#due to the nature of my writing always in some form being a way of processing what is going on in the rest of my life

[theneutral-zone]

quite bizarre the timeline we live in that my father has read harrow the ninth and i have not

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Doting

Tags: jjk men as dads, tooth-rotting fluff, comfort drabbles

Synopsis: How the JJK men treat you while pregnant (spoiler warning- they dote on you.)

An: This is my formal apology for writing Nanami angst on the “Baby’s first words” post 😔 it will never happen again (can we stop with the death threats now?)

SATORU • SUGURU • TOJI • SUKUNA • NANAMI

SATORU

Oh, your loving husband is all over you while you’re pregnant. He genuinely has such a cute fascination with all the changes your body is going through. He seriously thinks you’re so strong for carrying his heir.

He loves rubbing your bump. In fact, he will always be touching it in some form or fashion while you two are together. When he’s away on missions, he has you send him pictures and updates on your pregnancy as if anything major has changed in a couple of days.

You best believe he is ready to indulge you on your every craving, no matter how strange. It’s three a.m and you’re crying because you need that specific brand of chicken wings and a can of whip cream? He’s heading to the store immediately to fetch whatever you tell him to.

He genuinely worries about being a good dad. Many nights he lays his head on your bump and talks to you about how teaching didn’t come naturally to him. He wasn’t born knowing how to meet people where they’re at. He use to expect people to be able to meet him on his level. He worries that he may inadvertently put a lot of pressure on his kid, and that’s the last thing he wants due to how he was raised. He just wants his kid to be a kid.

He’s the best, most loving and compassionate dad to your baby, more than you could ever hope for. Even if teaching didn’t come to him naturally, being a father did.

SUGURU

He’s such a “sit down and let me do it for you” while you’re pregnant. He cooks, cleans, works, and tends to you completely throughout your pregnancy.

Suguru gets hyper fixated on your health during pregnancy. He only feeds you the yummiest and healthiest foods while you’re pregnant. He encourages for you to sit on the yoga ball and do (very) light exercises. He just wants the best for you and his baby.

Whenever I said he tends to you, I genuinely mean he tends to you. He’ll gently brush your hair at night time, rub your back when your belly is becoming heavy to carry around, serve your breakfast, lunch, and dinner in bed, carries around emesis bags and breath mints for if you get morning sickness while you two are out.

This man is the king of enforcing your boundaries to people when they don’t listen. That really annoying family member that insists on being there for the birth even though you’ve already explained to them that you want this to be an experience for just you and Geto? Yeah, he’s made it very clear to them that they will not be at the birth if they want to be in your kid’s life.

He is absolutely not afraid to hurt feelings if it means his wife and future child are safe and cared for. He really don’t give a fuck who anyone else is. You and his child are first priority.

TOJI

Toji is definitely the type to express his love and devotion for you in other ways than the most conventional methods.

He is so incredibly gentle while you’re pregnant. He doesn’t rile you up as much or play fight with you anymore. He constantly reminds himself that you’re carrying another life inside you and that you have enough on your plate.

This man… whew does he love seeing you pregnant. Toji’s the type of man to feel so feral when he looks at you heavily pregnant with his kid.

He adores your body. He’ll rub lotion all over you and oils to help your skin accommodate to the stretch of carrying a kid. He massages your body and absolutely worships it while he’s rubbing the lotion and oil on you.

Your breasts are sore? He’ll gently massage them until they feel better. Your back hurts? He’d be the type to lift your bump up and take the weight off you for as long as you ask him to so you can feel relaxed for a few minutes.

And look this is probably TMI but like, if you got a clogged milk duct due to breastfeeding, Toji would unfortunately be the type of man to fix that issue with his mouth. i’m sorry but he would.

Final thing is, you better believe that he doesn’t allow anyone to get too close to you. He is so unbelievably protective over you while you’re pregnant. If he could, he’d lock you up at home to prevent anyone from getting close to you.

SUKUNA

On the outside, he acts very nonchalant and unbothered by your pregnancy. On the inside, he is constantly plagued by the thought that your body may not be able to carry his heir. The thought of losing you or his child haunts him.

He will secretly observe and take notes on your body and how it is changing. If he catches you expressing any sort of short windedness, he will immediately send you off to bed rest. Though, you’re usually able to convince him to take you off of it by the next day.

The only servant he trusts to tend to you is Uraume. No one else in his court is allowed to be anywhere near you unless he gives specific instructions. Still, he hates leaving you in the care of Uraume. He trusts them, but he wants to be the one to take care of you.

He loves holding your body close to him at night. All four arms are wrapped around you and holding you closely. Since he doesn’t need much sleep, he will stay awake rubbing on your tummy all night long. One time, he felt the baby moving in your stomach while you were asleep. He was so intrigued that he woke you up and told you to “make them do it again”.

Now, he will randomly approach you at any given time while you’re heavily pregnant and hold his hand out so he can feel his baby moving around inside of you. It soothes his worry.

During birth, Sukuna was a complete mess. The amount of blood lost during birth fucking terrified him. He was panicking and yelling at anyone to do something to save you, even while everyone was assuring him that you’re okay and this was natural.

After 9 long excruciating months of extreme worry and constant fear, he finally feels peace when he’s cradling a newborn in his arm and a sleeping wife in the other arm. All of his hard work to protect you paid off he thinks.

NANAMI

Oh, to be pregnant by the king of domestic love himself.

Nanami is the type of man to immediately start working on a nursery for you as soon as you reveal to him that you’re pregnant. He immediately changes the guest bedroom into a nursery that you design for your little baby.

He reads up on all the parenting books and articles. He’s constantly compiling things to either do or to not do during pregnancy and even while raising a kid.

Like Geto, he tends to your every need. He is a total house husband all while working 40 hours a week. When he’s at work, he is constantly calling and texting you to make sure that you’re okay and taking care of yourself, but let’s be fr he literally did everything for you before he even left for work (meal prepped for you, set out your clothes for you, put out all your self care items in case you want to bathe).

When you express concerns of your body getting bigger to him, he does everything in his power to show you that he loves and respects your body for creating life. He literally cherishes and worships your body for hours if you let him.

Like Toji, Nanami is protective over you. He constantly has an arm around you if you two are in public, and he watches everyone who dares to get close to you like a hawk. If he gets a bad vibe about anyone, he’s immediately stepping in front of you and taking over the conversation.

Nanami is the best partner to have during birth. His reading of articles during your pregnancy really paid off. He is supportive without being overbearing. He listens to your needs and tends to you without question. Constant praise and encouragement while you’re giving birth. The moment he gets to snuggle with you and the baby is the moment he realizes that he cultivated the life of his dreams. He has the family he always wanted.

[monstersflashlight]

how about a male kitsune x fem reader. Maybe they are childhood friends and he loves to tease her a lot and acts really cocky all the time but scares away any potencial rival. Unknown to them both their parents who are good family friends ,have been trying to set them up together partly due to the fact of some very old promise their ansestors made or something but won’t force it and see it as if it happens it happens. But male kitsune has a secret, his true form and accidentally shows the reader this while confessing but she reassures she doesn’t care how he looks (if anything she finds him quite handsome like this) and she likes him too. His secret form I guess could go two ways I’m not sure which sounds better 1: she never knew he was a kitsune, and them being childhood friends was really just her playing around with a baby fox that she thought belonged to his family. Or 2: she knew he was a kitsune all along but he has a 3rd form he never showed her this one looking more like a bipedal humanoid fox a form of which not even his family has thus being self conscious of. Thank you so much your writing is really cool!

A/N: Hi! This request was very fun to write, hope any of you mind that I mixed both, made sense in my head. Also, as a great mind said “daddy is a state of mind”, I imagine this story as them being very close in age, like max three years apart. Enjoy!

The nine tails

Kitsune x fem!reader || daddy kink, arranged marriage, mates,

When you thought back to your childhood, you always had blurry memories of an animal. A fox. A white fox that followed you around and played with you when you went out into the garden. Your parents thought you were talking about a plushie or something, but you knew better, there was an actual fox that approached you as soon as you stepped outside. But when you were about twelve, he disappeared.

It hurt you so bad and so profound that you cried for days. You cried and cried and your parents didn’t know what was wrong. Your neighbor came around, a nice lady that you’ve known all your life, the mother of your crush… She said it was a pain of heart, and also disappeared. It was ominous and weird, and it woke you off a stupor that you didn’t know you were into.

You woke up and kept living. Even when your friend, your crush, left, you kept going.

And kept going.

When past your twenties, your parents announced that you were to marry an unknown person, or not so unknown. When you walk to the altar and see your long forgotten childhood friend… you are lost of words. You are so confused you dissociate through all ceremony. Before you realize you were married and living with a man you thought forgot about you.

You are calling him husband and he’s calling you wife, and your life is boring. You came back to your house one day, a bit earlier than anticipated because you signed a big contract and you want to go out for dinner with your husband, even if you barely talk. But what awaits for you there is not what you expected.

There’s a white fox in your living room. A white fox that turns into a human, a very naked human in the form of your husband. You gape at him, speechless.

You turn around to leave when he stops you. “Wait! Hear me out, I…”

But then it clicks. “You are the fox,” you deadpan.

“What?” He’s as surprised as you.

“The fox from my memories. It’s you.” Everything starts making sense, why they left, what his mother said when you were a kid.

“I- I thought you didn’t remember that,” he whispers, more to himself than to you.

“Of course I do, it broke my heart when you disappeared. I was so sad my parents bought me a puppy.” He doesn’t answer, staring at you like you grew a new head. You look into his sad eyes and can’t hold back anymore: “Why did you leave me?” Your question is filled with sadness and disappointment, the wound that you thought forgotten is once again open and bleeding. You thought you could get over the fox leaving, probably something to do with nature, but knowing it was him… That it was him who abandoned you…

“I’m sorry. I- They told me I had to. I couldn’t keep visiting you because I could throw everything into the wind if my fox got too attracted to you. So I pulled away, but it pained me, it pained me so much I could barely transform for so long after I stopped seeing you. And then we moved away and I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” His voice is broken as he explains, his words rushed as if he’s trying to convince you as much as he tries to convince himself.

And you get a new realization at that. “That’s why you came back? That’s why you married me? Not because they signed some papers when we were not even born?” You ask for confirmation.

“Of course not! I love you. Always have. Always will,” he tells you, eyes filled with tears and emotions showing in every twitch of his body. You stare at him, so moved by his words that you just stare. You stare for so long that he starts to squirm and moves to walk away, accepting your silence as a rejection.

But this time is you who stop him: “Then make love to me until I can’t walk anymore. Breed me until I can’t think of anything else. Fuck me until the sad memories disappear and I can only think of you inside of me,” you pronounce the filthy words as if your life depends on it. As if his body and his soul are what you crave more than air.

He chuckles, swallowing back his tears as he tells you: “You can’t say that and look at me directly, or this would end sooner than expected.” You look down at the same time as he does, seeing his dick twitching and growing hard in front of your eyes.

“Does me saying dirty things arouse you, daddy?” His groan is so loud and desperate that you have to bite back your own moan.

You throw your clothes off your body like a soul followed by death and stare at him, naked in all your glory, as his eyes flash in different colors and his ears morph into fox-like ones. And then you see his half form, his tails behind him, all nine of them swinging as he approaches you slowly, making you grin at him until you are chest to chest. He grabs you by the waist, holding you thigh as he lowers his head and kisses you in the most dominating way ever. Your knees give out under you, but he grabs your ass and pushes you up, inviting you to wrap them around his middle.

He gropes your ass as he grinds his dick up to your wet center. You keep whispering “daddy daddy daddy” as he rocks your body against his. He’s as desperate as you are, your kisses consuming, trying to get your love across his lips. Trying to show him all the longing and pain that he caused you, as he tries to kiss it away. It’s intoxicating and deep, so emotional and intense that you are breathless.

When he finally pushes his dick inside your dripping cunt, you shiver with the force of the sensation. He pushes your body against the wall, plastering himself against your front as he leaves your mouth to kiss your neck, leaving marks as he goes.

He fucks you against the wall, desperate, uncoordinated… and perfect. “Yes. Yes. Yes,” you chant over and over, his dick hitting that special place inside of your pussy that makes you see stars.

You start to shake in his arms. “Are you going to come for daddy? Are you going to make a mess out of your pretty pussy for me?” You nod eagerly, biting his neck and making him cry out as the first shoot of cum hit you deep inside, hot as lava.

You groan as your own orgasm rocks your body, convulsing against his arms as his tails caress your legs like the softest touch. It drives you to a new level, head thrown back, mouth open in a silent scream as he fucks you through your aftershocks. He breathes hard against your neck, biting softly with his long fangs.

“You are so good, such a good girl for daddy,” he keeps whispering soft things against your ear as you come down, breathing hard and blushing harder than ever. He kisses your sweaty forehead as he walks you to the bathroom, not letting you go as he runs you a bath.

[velvrei]

Hellohellooohellooo!!!God I fucking love your way of writting Logan!!! You really imitates his aura and his own being! I can almost feel his temperamental blows coming out! and- not for talking about the smuts 🫨— that was my ovaries reading some smut request that you have done,sorry let me just: ❤️‍🔥🤏🏻 *gives you my damn horny heart due to so erotic request

I really wanted to tell you,i really like it,also to give you another request since you like so much writting them 😈 (and so do I sweetheart but even more)

My request it’s that,can you write about Logan sucking Reader’s boobs? I have always seeing him wit really big mommy issues (perhaps maybe him not remembering her :-c ) but also a man of boobs (he would lick some breast like his favourite tequila) I m not sorry🫶🏻other raqueta i tough about was him thrusting reader like drawer that does not close (if you are not very comfy about the own request feel free to just don’t do it,honestly principally i do it because i m very insecure myself of my own and my weird sexual headcannons)

have a good day when you are reading this my favorite Wolverine’s writer🫶🏻🫶🏻

this request is perfectly fine :) you are so kind. thank you so much!! i hope i wrote it the way your were imagining. (i tried to add your second request into this one!)

logan sucking your tits (18+)

logan is such a boob man. if he could touch, kiss or suck on your boobs just as a way to touch you he would do it. logan’s favorite physical thing about you was your boobs. he was a slut just to kiss and lick on your chest.

he was on top of you, he’d been making out with your chest for almost twenty minutes now.

his slutty ass was whining, whimpering as you watched him. the scene was so intimate.

logan kissing your body, his big light greenish-brown eyes staring up at you as if he was a deer in headlights. he would moan, whimper, everytime you pet his head, and he found himself rutting against the bed for some form of friction because of how turned on you had him.

“you that desperate, honey?” your words caused his body to shiver, his doe eyes gazing up at you.

“rutting against the bed for some form of friction? you really that turned on just from sucking my fucking tits?”

he nodded, not caring to hide his desperate nature. “you’re just so pretty, i love every part of you.”

his voice was his usually deep and raspy, but he added a little whine to it, as he batted his eyelashes up at you. fucking slut.

you ran your hand through his hair watching as his lips closed around your nipple again, his hand caressing the other breast.

he kissed, sucked and licked, all around the skin and his tongue flicking along your nipple.

“you’re so pretty like this honey, desperate for my touch.” he whined, eyes scrunching shut. you knew exactly how to make your tough boyfriend whine and whimper.

[cherriegyuu]

red | csc

pairing: seungcheol x f!readergenre: smutword count: 1.6kwarnings: minors do not interact, kissing, a little bit of dirty talking, swearing, oral (male), masturbation (female), unprotected sex (please wrap it up kids), sort ot public sex, car sexa/n: not entirely sure how this one happened but here we are i guess. this was not how the story was supposed to go, i had different plans and maybe i'll write them later. if you filled the form to be tagged in my fics but was not tagged for this one, it means that you are either a minor or i didn't find your age anywhere in your blog.

this is part of my series, seventeen as songs from red (ts)

Seungcheol ➝ Red Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly↳ the sight of seungcheol driving had always been your favorite but when both of you were trying to escape while being chased down by the police, you couldn't help but make things a little more… interesting

“Baby, no, you can’t be serious” Seungcheol complained, his voice a weird mixture of moan and groan as he looked between the road and your hand that was dangerously close to the waist of his jeans. 

He looked at you again, but your eyes were focused on the rear windscreen, a small smile playing on your lips as the cops struggled to follow along. Clearly, the police academy should provide driving lessons, because there was no way those men were actually that bad at driving. 

“It’s going to be fun” you whispered against his skin. 

You pressed your lips over his jawline, right where it connected with his ear, going down his neck, lightly biting into his skin. Your kisses trailed down his neck until his collarbone, where you pressed them over his sweet spot, sucking his skin hard enough to leave a mark. 

You enjoyed knowing that his skin was marked by you.  It was only fair that he too carried marks after leaving a few of them himself all over your body. It had been hard to explain to your sister, ever so naive, how you had gotten those bruises. She saw you as sincere enough, pure enough, to believe that some of it had been due to your clumsy nature. Good thing she never saw the ones right above your panties and the two on your inner thighs. 

“We're going to get caught” 

Seungcheol had always been the first one to throw any sort of caution out the window and he was never one to tell you no. If you wanted something, it was yours. If he didn't have what you wanted, he was sure to get it for you. So when you undid the button of his jeans and slid your hand in, pushing his underwear and pants down just enough to set his semi-hard cock free, Seungcheol didn't complain. 

His words of caution had been a lot more for you than for him. You had been his quiet and shy girl, who sometimes got scared when the cars were too loud. He wasn't certain when that new version of you had come out, but he knew he liked it a lot.

Truth be told, it wasn't really a new version of you, but a you that was only his to see and know about.

“Do you really want Kyle back there to see me choke on your dick?” you pressed your lips to the corner of his mouth “Imagine the view he's going to get… my ass in this tiny skirt in the air, you dick in my mouth, my eyes filled with tears because you're too big to fit into my mouth but I want to take you all way”

God, he loved it when your mouth got a little dirty. 

Seungcheol grabbed your hair, pushing your head down into his cock. You smiled, finally happy that he had given it. You loved that he was willing to pull back but also loved that he didn't hesitate to say yes to you sucking him off.

You licked him, from the base to tip. Your hand pumped him once, twice, three times. A fourth one just for good measure, to be certain that he was almost fully hard before you took him into your mouth.

The moan that left Seungcheol's lips caused a wave of tingles to dance through your body, all the way to your core and you couldn’t help but moan too. 

The sounds he made while you sucked him had always turned you on. So to have him driving — probably your favorite thing about him — and moaning for you, while his hand was tangled in your hair, forcing your head down until his dick touched the back of your throat turned you on in ways that you didn't think were possible.

You had never been one for public sex. Not just public, but anywhere near someone else, or where someone else could hear the faintest sound. But with Seungcheol all of your inhibitions had been left behind and he was all that you could see and feel and want.

He went from the hot driver who helped you escape an illegal race, to the hot driver/boyfriend you were sucking off while being chased down by the cops. 

“Balls too” you managed to pull back long enough to say.

You pushed Seuncheol's jeans a little further down, glad he was willing to help by raising him hips just enough. Once all of him was out for you, you leaned over him again. Your hand was on his cock while your mouth was busy a little more down.

He let out a grunt when you grazed him with your teeth, moaning again when you took him again. His hand was back in your hair, maybe it had never even left, guiding you up and down, at the pace he liked the most. As if you didn't know it already, as if you hadn't memorized it.

“I love your mouth, so much,” he said, holding your head down “You take me so well, baby” 

Tears started to form in the corner of your eyes, spit Dripping out and coating all of him. You snaked your free hand into your soaked panties, needing some sort of pressure too. You moaned when the tip of your middle finger grazed your clit, the tiniest bit of stimulation enough to make your head almost spin.

“Are you touching yourself, baby?” whichever incoherent sound left your mouth was enough of confirmation to Seungcheol “I bet you're pulsing around nothing, begging to be filled.  Ready for me”

You moaned again, rubbing your clit a little more desperately than before. If you were going to get Seungcheol to his release, it was only fair that you got some sort of your own too.

Seungcheol looked at the rearview mirror for a second, when he reached the exit he was looking for, opting to get away from the main road. Those cops weren't aware of the alternative road, so you were almost out of any danger — if such a thing had even existed, for a moment at least.

He pulled you up, his hand on your jaw. He loved to turn you into a mess, with tear-stained cheeks and spit all over you. Your hand never left your pussy when he pulled you to him. He kissed you for a second, doing his best to keep the car moving, still on the road.

“Come ride me” he whispered against your lips.

Your eyes gleamed and you moved, pulling your skirt up and shoving your panties to the side. Seungcheol pushed his seat back, as far as he could go, to make room for you.

The position was a little awkward but it didn't matter as you angled his tip with your entrance, slowly coming down on him.

A long moan left your lips, until he was all the way inside you. You loved the burning sensation he always gave you, almost as if he was too much, like he wasn't going to fit in you. But he always did.

“How are you even tighter?” he moaned, his mind going blank for a second at the overwhelming feeling of taking you in public, of you riding him, of how your pussy sucked him in in desperation, of taking you bare.

Slowly, like torture, to started to move up and down, as much as you could. You moved your hips up, until he almost completely out and then let yourself fall into him. 

“Cheol” you begged, for what it was uncertain.

You wanted, needed, all of him, all over you.

“Take it, baby, it's yours”

Your moves became frantic, a mixture of bouncing on him, while grinding on him, searching for as much friction as you possibly could. 

Seuncheol moved your hand from his neck to your pussy, pressing your own fingers to open yourself up even further, giving you more room for friction.

“Cheol…” you moaned again, your voice louder as you moved over him “You're so so deep like this”

He no longer could take it. He pulled the car to the side of the road. The police had long been left behind and he had gotten to the point of not caring anymore. You were over him, almost on breaking point. He cared about getting you off, about seeing your eyes roll as your orgasm took over. 

“I got you, baby,” he said while kissing you “I've got you”

Seungcheol held your hips and started to pound into you at a relentless pace. He wanted to chase his high while giving you yours.

You moaned into his shoulder when he pressed a hand to your groin at the same time you started to rub your clit again, matching his pace.

“Cum with me, baby”

His words sent your body into a frenzy, your orgasm taking over as your entire body shook. Seungcheol swallowed all of your incoherent moans and words, his high following yours. He only stopped moving when all that was left was the small spams on your legs.

You leaned your head back when Seunchheol tugged at your hair. He loved that expression on you, when you were completely fucked out and pleased. He liked knowing that he had made it happen.

“Hi” he whispered

You laughed a little, your eyes still closed.

“So sex while the cops chase us turns you on, huh?” he said kissing your neck, enjoying the small goosebumps erupting on your skin “Fully noted”

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[justadeadreaper]

okay so I'm curious- puptrapping you say? That you'd need another post to go into? I'd like to encourage this please

Puptrapping?

You want to hear about puptrapping, you say?

Anon, your wish is my command.

Just so you know, this is like you encouraging a crack addict by finding them a new dealer. I am not joking because this is my obsession at this point, but I do encourage you to send in more asks about Omega!Makarov or ideas you want me to write about because I will. I never originally thought of puptrapping; instead, it was my dear friend @frogchiro who said that she thought he would based on a comment I made about him tying you down to make sure you cum in him. Also, do thank @frogchiro because she helped me form these ideas in our late-night rants, and she is my biggest encourager.

Now that I have written this, I am tempted to write about Omega!Makarov with pups or a fic based on this idea if anyone wants it.

Obvious warnings for puptrapping (omegaverse version of babytrapping) and all the shit that goes with it, Omega!Makarov spiking your drink with an omegaverse version of Viagra (that sounds so fucking weird), but also a big misunderstanding between Omega!Makarov and reader.

This whole idea is based on it being a misunderstanding. Omega!Makarov is a feared man; no one even knows he is an omega; you were only allowed that grace of knowledge due to being his alpha -specifically chosen for being the most desired for your size and strength-. Knowing how secretive he was about his second gender, you presumed that he would never want pups as it would reveal his identity to the world, and he could not have that, could he? Hell, you did not even think he loved you; he only used you to satisfy his natural instincts that come with being an omega so that he would not be on a constant edge from having his subconscious desires not be fulfilled. You enforced the rule around using some form of protection as you did not want to force or pressure him into having pups that he would never want in a million years.

But oh, you poor, dumb alpha. How wrong could you be?

Omega!Makarov is infatuated with you. As soon as he saw you, he knew that you had to be his; no one else would be able to satisfy him after he saw you. Yes, he may be a cruel, heartless man but he loves you in his own special way and let me tell you he loves you with all his heart! He genuinely does! Now, being that he loves you so much, it is only natural that he wants your pups; it is only made worse by him being an omega and having the natural instincts to breed and have pups that poor omegas like him have. He knew he wanted pups from a young age, even if he knew that he did not love like a normal person does. Another part of him wanting to have pups is his own relationship with his father. A narcissistic, bullheaded alpha that abused Makarov and his poor brother for being omegas, Makarov had to watch as his poor mother was abused for not giving that asshole the alpha sons he desperately wanted. His father was never nice to him; he was a horrid father who chickened out at the last minute instead of suffering the consequences of his actions. Makarov does not want to be like that; he instead wants to be the best father he can be and have as many pups as he can to shove it to the old man who damaged him so much, to embrace the one thing his father abused him for and always forced him to hide.

So, for you to say that you need to use birth control? That is the biggest insult to him! Do you not love him? Do you not think he is a good enough omega to have your pups? Are you just using him to get yourself off? Are you planning on just dropping him off one day? Why do you not feel like him? He wants your pups so badly, why do you not want to give them to him?

He damn near hissed at you for suggesting such a thing, but he decided to hold his tongue as he knows he will get his way, he always has.

Now it just. depends on what type of birth control you force him to use for what he does to still be able to have your pups.

Condoms? Expect every single one to have multiple puncture holes from the set of pins that used to belong to his mother. Small enough for you not to notice but just big enough to allow enough cum to come through to give him a nice litter of pups. But that is only if you are stupid enough to allow him to be the only one to supply the condoms or allow him to be around the box by himself for longer than two minutes. If you buy them and never let him near them, you can be sure that those things will rip because, for some reason, your knot was a lot bigger than it normally is causing the condom to rip.

Birth control? He is lying about being on it. The prescription he showed you was a fake he forced a poor pharmacist to make as the pills inside that he showed you were nothing more than sugar pills mixed with the omegaverse version of Viagra known as an Amplifa that helps people knot while also increasing their fertility that he forced the drug dealers he hires to make. Each day, he will take them in front of you, knowing that they do not work. But if you are the one to supply the pills, then he is finding any pill or herb known to man to counteract it so that the birth control fails.

The Amplifa he uses to spike your drink and his own have a few side effects. I imagine omegas to have a reverse knot to match an alpha’s knot, which means they are doubly bonded. How it works is by inflating the sides of the passage like how, for an alpha, the base inflates to lock inside; it is to make sure that the alpha is being milked of all their cum and that the omega is too tight for the alpha to pull out. Since both he and you have been spiked with it, it causes your knot to inflate beyond the point of it being pulled out while he is too tight that it hurts to try and pull out. It also makes the knots last for hours upon hours instead of the normal half an hour to an hour, as it makes you cum so much. Not to mention it makes you incredibly more horny so you could fuck for longer.

With everything prepared, he has sex with you.

Once you are close to cumming he leg locks you making sure you can not push him off as you cum. Your knot inflating inside him as he milks you dry, all while he is still moving his hips in a specific motion to cause more friction that stimulates you and makes you hard yet again. Wiggling his hips and whining as you have yet another orgasm while the two of you are stuck together as his reverse knot will just not let go. Watching as his tummy begins to form a bump already as it grows from how much cum you have stuffed inside of it with every orgasm. He puts on the “I’m innocent, I swear!” act; he uses all the manipulation tactics he knows, the fake tears, the lies, the everything. He is just a simple omega who was trying to enjoy sex with his alpha; he has no idea what is going on. Whining over how worried he is since with this much cum he is most definitely already pregnant, even if you were being safe. All of this while he continues to move his hips as you cum once more.

And as soon as you are asleep from exhaustion and overstimulation he is gently caressing his stomach as he purrs. He can already imagine the litter of pups he will be having in a few months and how much of a happy family you all will be...

[bunji-enthusiast]

Hope you're doing well!! Please take however long you need to get your creative juices flowing <333 may I order a Dogday recognizing Poppy's Angel is actually the former Playtime Co. employee he and many others came to love and cherish due to their kindness? The reader is THAT employee that others envy, many of the toys LOVES them and prefer to be taken care of by them.

Maybe the reader had found out the sinister nature of the company but is understandably afraid to speak up about it as they realized their old co-workers maybe weren't just fired or " quit " out of thin air after all... Perhaps something happened behind the scenes that made the reader " quits " ( Maybe they could be threatened but by a lot of pleading and bargaining, they're spared but has to keep their mouth shut and never come back, otherwise... )

The toys are devastated, angry and just lots of mixed emotions. The reader feeling more and more guilty as they venture through their once happy place and having to harm the ones they once swore to care for.

The rest is up to you! Please again, take care and take your time, all the best in everything <333

I'm So Sorry

Note || oh my hearttt the angstttt, lovely to write this as always. In the form of head canons if that is alright? ^^

WC || 1,035

Sypnosis || you knew otherwise, presumably what went on. You just didn’t mean to harm those around you.

Being aware of something most employees where not had dug you a thorough grave, you didn’t want to leave your beloved friends in the toy factory. A factory misconstrued on a basement of lies and futility you may as well be well over with, and bury it in the ground. Yet, bury in the ground they did. 

Your superiors had learned of your knowledge of these things, and began sending letters. Bit by bit, they had only started off by threatening you; telling you to keep quiet. They didn’t want their precious reputation to be ruined by the likes of you. Still, you continued to stay, you didn’t want to leave your loved ones. All the friends you’ve come to love, eventually becoming like family for you.

You weren’t deaf nor blind to what the superiors at Playtime Co. do, quite literally you’d have to bandage your eyes or plug your ears to ignore all that was happening behind the scenes, you didn’t let it fall on deaf ears however. Eventually soon enough it was eating away at you to actually just quit, just straight up disappear from Playtime Co.’s eyes. 

Among the many toys; Huggy, Kissy, Mommy, and Poppy, hell even CatNap began to wonder where you went. Why did you flat-out depart from working at the Factory so suddenly? One day you were visible and present, the next you had not shown up. Oddly enough they soon had gotten their answer when the Hour Of Joy had occurred, Huggy Wuggy had come across your paper of termination when he had taken upon himself in the act.

So long ago, that was a decade past you left that life behind. You really wished you would have granted them goodbyes before you had gone, yet it seemed you got that chance to do so when you received a paper in the mail that had appeared to be from your co-workers. Word for word you could remember reading, everyone thinks the staff disappeared ten years ago, we’re still here. Find the flower.

The only reason you even had to come back to the factory in the first place was because of the guilt easily overwhelming your logic, you needed answers. You needed to know what happened to your co-workers and all the toys you cared deeply for, yet you had an overwhelming suspicion you really knew what happened to all the staff in Playtime Co. you simply just weren’t present for it. Having technically already left. 

Seeing Huggy Wuggy on the pedestal again brought back some memories for you, he was certainly a hoot. In a way, you really liked him along with the rest of the toys. He was certainly a unique one out of the few–especially along with Kissy Missy. You thought they were a cute pair together, Kissy always managed to calm his murderous tendencies and Huggy was always someone you can count on for a good hug if you ever had a bad day.

Killing is not something you would ever dare think of doing, it was simply not in your mind or blood to do so. So why did you have to resort to killing Huggy? You silently wept, having no time to grieve for him properly as you had to trudge on along to the flower.

Poppy was the last person (or toy, ahem) you expected to find in that case you came across. Now you find yourself in the game station, seeing her get pulled away like that right after she offered to give the code to you had you on the steels of your nerves, you were immediately very close to being in an angry mood. 

Now you had to deal with Mommy’s antics, you felt for her, but you certainly wouldn’t want to go through the trouble of trying to get the code from Mommy. Least of all having to resort to killing her, as she would not listen to your words. Convincing her was impossible to do, trying to make her remember you was a whole different story.

Crap.

Why’d she have to go in a rage? Now she’s dead too, and what in the seven circles of hell did she mean by “HE’LL MAKE ME PART OF HIM! YOU CAN’T DO THIS TO ME!” You shudder when a mechanical hand comes to pull away Mommy’s corpse, you mentally make a note that is the Prototype. As you’ve come to learn the name after you had scavenged Elliot’s office. 

Soon you learn what Mommy had meant, arguably enough you were angry that Poppy had derailed your only train to get out of Playtime Co. but your heart had ached too much to not finish what you started. Now CatNap was hunting you while you ran around in Playcare, you just never expected to see such an untimely sight that nobody should be put in.

DogDay was hurt, real bad. His legs were severed, he wasn’t long and limber like you remember him to be. His life seemed to be completely drained and sucked away from him, you wince when he moved, movement appeared to be harsh to even put energy into. Your heart bleeds for him, yet you are surprised when he actually recognizes you from before, all those years ago. 

“Angel, you! Y-You're the one that cared for so many of us.” You nod, parental instinct already kicking in to free him from his belts from which he hung from. DogDay doesn’t deserve a fate like this, not then and especially not now. “You don’t need to, leave me here.”

“Oh hell no, you need to live.” You refute, shushing him before DogDay begins to protest. You sigh in relief once he finally is free, as selfish as it may be, he hadn’t ever attempted to kill you. You wanted someone with you that actually remembers you and doesn’t try to gun for you the moment you even step into the vicinity.

Gosh, you really hoped to get this over with. Guilt weighing heavily in mind as you had to kill so many toys, so many that you cared for. 

At Least it meant to be in the name of self defense.

Right?

[earenwen-leafwhisper]

The handmaid and the dragons

Pairing: Child Daemon Targaryen x servant mother nature fem reader, Baelon Targaryen x servant reader, Child Viserys x servant reader, Alyssa Targaryen x servant reader (All platonic)

Summary: Life at the castle can be most enjoyable as a servant when you can take care of two young dragon princes.

Author’s note: Viserys and Daemon are 4 years apart. Daemon was born in 81 and Viserys in 77

Reader are not describe, in my mind she is chubby/plus size, but she can be of all shapes.

English is not my native language, i'm sorry if mistakes were made. I will correct as soon as possible.

After a few months without writing fully, here is the first written of a multitude of ideas that I have in mind for some time. This One-shot could be continued in the form of headcannon or other One-chot, or multiple chapters.

---

The life of a servant was not easy, apart from early morning wakes and short nights due to requests from some residents and guests, not always very understandable and sometimes almost impossible to accomplish (as this noble woman, who wanted to enter one of the princes' chambers in order to try to seduce and marry the man she desired; it was as if that had ended with the dismissal of the said noble woman) did not allow you to have a good quality sleep.

But this life of servant, you would not have exchanged it for any other, because beyond the rebukes of some older servants and lords and lady, who could be haughty. You were in the service of the Targaryens, and although some nobles and peasants did not carry the members of this house in their hearts. You were not treated badly, on the contrary, you were considered better than servants of other smaller houses.

Since your early childhood you remembered having met people with Valeryan blood. Your parents had served under the late reign of Maegor and survived him because of their good labours. They then served Jaehaerys. You had followed their ways, as was customary for the people. You had become multi-tasker, allowing you to be better paid, and help your parents who were beginning to get old to serve the Targaryen house as well. You could go from kitchen to floor scrubbing, from washing clothes to helping princesses dress or hairdressing.

But more than that. More than this work. There were in that castle two small heads with silver hair, for which you had taken affection.

A few years ago, you had become a servant of Princess Alyssa when she was pregnant for the second time. You were one of many servants, but you always did your best to allow the princess to have everything she needed, in order to make it easier for her to wait for the birth of her second child. Being a hectic life, the rest offered and almost ordered by the masters, bored her to the utmost point, towards the end of her pregnancy, she could no longer ride on Meleys and was irritated for nothing, whether it be on the servants, her ladys in waittig. But when she calmed down, unlike other nobles, Alyssa apologized, knowing that she would not have reacted in this way if she was not pregnant.

But even in those moments, you loved the princess, not that you envied her, no, you loved her because she always behaved with respect.

---

When you seen the baby Daemon, you had taken a liking to him, how many times did you manage to give him gifts, however humble? You hadn’t counted, all you liked was to see Daemon play, or eat the cakes that you had prepared in the kitchens during your working hours. Just seeing him smile and recognize you made your heart warm. You didn’t forget the princess or Viserys when you made the cakes, but your favorite was always Daemon.

You always had a maternal nature, to care about others, but that nature is just manifesting more greatly towards Daemon. You never disrespected Alyssa, on the contrary, you worried about her, even though she was your age, you sometimes nursed her slightly, just out of concern for her health, like the day when she took baby Daemon to fly on Meleys’s back, you were worried.

“Princess Alyssa... are you sure you want to do this?...” The masters have advised against your health...”

Would you be afraid that Meleys would face evil against Daemon? Or would you not trust me?

“I have faith in you, princess... I know that you did the same thing with Prince Viserys.... It’s just that...”

“Fear not, Meleys will do nothing against Daemon, it’s only a little theft after all. It won’t hurt me.”

It is the close heart that you watched the princess go towards the dragonpit.

During the whole morning of labor, your mind was not focused on your spots. Every moment you could forget about Alyssa’s flight, something made you think of her or the children. Some servants with whom you shared your time of work, found your behavior strange, not understanding why you showed so much kindness and devotion to the royal family, that family which did not spank attention to the servants and people of the people, At least according to them.

All your stress went away when you saw Alyssa and baby Daemon return, it is with a sincere smile that you welcomed the princess, taking care of her and Daemon with the other servants.

Although you were a simple and humble servant, you had become close to Alyssa over the days, months and years, even when travelling for tournaments or festivities in other parts of Westeros. Alyssa ordered you to accompany her, the other servants did not see this in a good way, nor even the nobles who found it unnoble approach on the part of the princess. For they thought the nobles should stay among them, the others were nothing but nothing.

---

You saw the children grow, the first steps of Daemon towards Alyssa even gave you a small tear in your eye, so proud of Daemon’s progress. Not forgetting the progress of Viserys, He was 4 years old when you met him and now from his future 7 years, he loved playing with you, loving his wooden dragons by lending one only when it was sure to get it back later. He was a rather easy child, even more so because of his attraction for food, asking for cupcakes, the masters had more than once ordered you not to give any more to the young prince, but behind their backs, you gave one or two to please him.

You were not in direct contact with other members of the royal family, except Baelon, whom you saw radiating to the coast of Alyssa, as well as to her sons.

When the news of the new pregnancy of the princess. Everyone was happy, it took three years, but all hoped that the future event would be happy.

Oh... Alyssa...

---

You were awakened in the middle of the night, guards had come to fetch the princess’s servants. The corridors of the castle were dark to the limit of gloom, although they are illuminated by torches. To the right and left you could see servants, midwifes, guards and masters running through all the censes.

You felt a cold sweat through your back, a wind of panic engulfed you. Midwifes, was a sign that the princess was in full labor and about to give birth. But the presence of the masters, was bad omens, they came only when the birth was complicated to see serious. Alyssa was the only known person in the castle who was pregnant and about to give birth.

You passed in the corridor of the princess' apartments, horrible screams pierced ears, spanking you stop at the door, heart pounding, fear to sell, guards took you by the arms to force you to continue walking. You were assigned to the supervision of children while other servants were assigned to take over the orders of masters.

When you arrived, Daemon and Viserys were sleeping, unaware of who was going on in the castle. You sit on one of the chairs, watching the children, while trying to calm your breath, reassuring you as much as you could, praying to the gods, for the survival of Alyssa and the baby (whether you are a believer or not).

It was only in the morning, when you helped the children to prepare (make sure that Viserys does not wear his tunic upside down, tie their shoes), that Baelon entered. His hair was glued to his forehead by the sweat, his breath saccader. You turned your head to look at him before getting up from the ground on which you were kneeling, in order to bow down as required by protocol. But before you got up, Baelon raised his hand to stop you and walked towards the boys.

"My prince..." Your heart was beating, the anticipation of the news was great.

"The work was hard..." Baelon knelt before Viserys and Daemon, before taking them in his arms.

"Work?" Viserys looked at his father with questions.

"Your mother giving birth to a little brother..."

"Little brother?" Viserys’s eyes lit up, while Daemon seemed to be a bit soft.

"Yes, you will soon."

Baelon was happy and reassuring, he gave them each a kiss in the hair before raising his head towards you.

"Alyssa will need you, for now she needs to rest."

"Of course, my prince..."

"I know you’ll look after her."

You shook your head gently, your head was full of questions, all revolved around the princess and the newborn baby, the cries remained in your memory.

You only saw the princess when she was awakened after several hours of being unconscious. She was so full of life, she looked like a living dead, almost diaphanous. Her simple vision gave you a terrible desire to cry. Alyssa, seeing you, smiles softly, feverishly. You walked towards her before sitting down to lean out of her bed and gently take her hand, holding her company, explaining that Viserys and Daemon were happy to see her soon and have a little brother.

Alas, Alyssa’s health did not improve much, after almost a year the princess was very weak.

---

One morning, the nannies who took care of Daemon and Viserys had not been available, between one who was falling ill and the second who had to return to King’s Landing for family business, Baelon, whom you saw rarely, He ordered one of his servants to find you, so that you could look after the children. It was now days that the masters watched Alyssa, who slept more and more, ate less and less. Worrying everyone in the castle.

You decided to please the children, to make them stretch their legs in the company of guards, in the gardens of the castle.

The sun was shining, the light breeze of wind was refreshing, and you had placed yourself at the side of one of the fountains, watching the boys running in the garden gates gave you a smile, temporarily preventing you from thinking of Alyssa, and allowing you to live a little in carelessness. When Daemon fell to the ground after having tripped, he started to cry slightly before watching Viserys continue to run, he watched you with his eyes. You smile gently, before he gets up and walks towards you with tears in his eyes, he showed you his hands, covered with dirt and gravel.

“Y/nickname! Its hurt!”

“It’s all right, my little dragon, I’ll look.”

You gently took his hands, leaning gently to observe his hands, before taking a cloth, for the soaked in water to gently clean Daemon’s hands, he sniffed softly after moaning on contact with the cloth.

"That’s right, my little dragon, you are brave, like a proud warrior.” The tone of your voice was sweet and comforting to the young Daemon.

Daemon looked at you, then looked at his hands red with rubbing against his palms. When you laid a kiss on each of his palms, his eyes lit up, all forms of pain and sadness had withdrawn from his face. After all, soft drops on the little bobos are always miraculous remedies for children.

“Do you want to continue playing?”

Daemon shook his head, a big smile on his face, he went back to join Viserys, laughing as he pursued him.

You only came back at the time of dinner which could not be taken outside, the children in the company of members of the house Targaryen present at the castle, except Alyssa and Baelon, who was at his bedside. As for you, you were eating in haste in the room dedicated to the servants, talking with your friends, discussing the latest news while walking through the dark corridors.

The servants' dinners were often more courtly and of lesser quality than those of the nobles, but it was enough to give energy for all the day’s work.

“Apparently, Prince Baelon refuses to leave his wife’s bedside...” One of the king’s servants had just spoken.

Yes, her health is in perpetual decline, the masters fear that she will not pass on the next moons. One of the servants who had been looking after Alyssa had just answered her.

You listened to the exchange with attraction, trying to get information that had not yet been disclosed. But their discussions stopped when they noticed you. All knew of your closeness with the princess and children, taking care not to tell you about the royal family, lest you speak about it with the princess. You shrugged before looking at your friends and talking to them. It would have pleased the servants who did not like you, to show them that their behavior touched him. It was only when you were called to serve the young princes that you went out into the corridors, arriving near the dining room, Daemon ran in your direction, followed by Viserys. You took them in your arms before walking, a hand in the small hand of Viserys, while Daemon clung to your neck, while you carried it. The guards would follow you, ensuring the safety of the children.

Once in the children’s shared room, Viserys settled into a pillow that covered part of the floor in one of the corners of the room near one of the windows.

You settled down beside him, Daemon sitting on your legs in the direction of Viserys. It was a sweet evening, punctuated by the preparation of their bath, and some childish quarrels.

It was only when the guards opened the doors, and you looked in their direction. that you had a cold sweat.

The queen herself entered, she seemed paler then before, she almost wore a sick complexion. Your heart began to beat, your intuition told you that something serious had happened and how much you would have wished to have been wrong.

---

Tag list : @avalyaaa

[featherandferns]

fascinating new thing (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | the music the band plays in this are songs by beach bunny (that's the music style i envisioned for the reader) - check them out!

content warning: drinking & drug use; anxiety & anxiety attacks

word count: 18k. (the definition of a slow-burn, so just hang in there, okay?)

blurb: after your band plays a show at kiara's parents' restaurant, you find yourself face to face with jj maybank. shy and socially awkward, you fumble through, knowing that a guy like jj would never want a thing to do with you, right?

“I don’t understand you,” Kiara says. She’s perched atop one of the speakers.

“What’d you mean?” you ask from where you kneel on the floor. You’re detangling wires.

“When you met my parents, I could barely get your name out of you. But now I find out you enjoy singing to a crowd of strangers in your spare time?”

You laugh, shrugging.

“I mean, if I was shy, I think my worst fear would be singing to a group of anybody – let alone strangers,” Kie tells you with a chuckle.

“I guess it’s cause I’m in my element when I’m singing and stuff. I feel calm,” you think aloud.

You’d never really thought of it that much. Performing music always came easy to you. Talking to people, not so much.

The wires finally unknot and you go about plugging them into the correct amps. Kiara had offered to help you and your band set up before your gig. It was at The Wreck – her parents gracious enough to let you guys play – and Kie, being your friend for just over a year, was all for it.

You’d met at school when she transferred to (what she proclaimed as) Kook Academy. Kie felt as if she didn’t fit in, away from the Pogues and amongst the snobs. You felt like an outsider too. Making friends never came easy to you. Your shyness got in the way and made you clam up. The good first half of your years at school were spent having panic attacks during breaktime and hiding behind the sheds to eat lunch alone. One day you made your usual journey there to find Kiara, sat crying. You’d struck up your best attempt at conversation, sympathising immediately. She confided in you about missing her old school, and how this ‘bitch’ Sarah Cameron had started a rumour and ditched her. You nodded through it and offered up eating lunch together, which soon turned into hanging out after school, and overtime Kie pulled you out of your shell. That was when you told her about your band.

The only reason you’d managed to find your band was from the school counsellor’s insistence that you join an extra-circular. When you meekly confessed that you liked playing music and writing songs, she’d thrust you into band practice. Seriously: she literally escorted you there. Benny, who played drums, and Pansy, who played guitar, were your first friends. Pansy had an effervescent charm to her; naturally outgoing but not intimidating. Strangely, she was easy to talk to. Non-judgemental and non-pushy. Never asked you the age-old question ‘how come you’re so quiet?’ Benny was a little like you and it was as if the two of you clocked each other and decided to stick it out. Over time, you both opened up, with Pansy’s assistance of course. The bassist was someone Pansy met (and probably cornered) at a kegger, named Mike. Aloof and mysterious, you spent a great deal of your time wondering if he liked you and a greater deal wondering who he was. Finally, with you on vocals, the band was formed. Pansy lovingly named it The Wallflowers, in your honour.

As soon as Kie found out, she insisted on having you play at The Wreck. All of that led up to today, with the show due to start in two hours.

“I’m so excited to hear you guys play,” she grins. “I can’t believe it took you so long to tell me you were in a band.”

“Just never came up,” you chuckle, standing up. “How many people do you think’ll come?”

“Maybe fifty or so? Dad posted about it on the Facebook page and I put up some posters.”

Your stomach drops. “Posters?”

Kie jumps off the speaker. “Only around the cut! None at Kook Academy, don’t worry.”

The panic eases somewhat with her clarification. You weren’t exactly enthused to have some of your classmates, who seemed to find pleasure in teasing your quietness, coming to see you play. Your band was like your safe spot: where you could express yourself. Pansy practically had to prise the songs you’d written out of your hands at the first practice.

As if summoning her by thought, the afro haired girl waltzes into the restaurant, guitar case slung over her shoulders. “I can’t believe I haven’t been here before! This place is hella cute, Kie!”

“Thanks,” Kiara smiles.

Pansy hops onto the small make-shift stage you’d borrowed from the school’s music department, looking around the room as if she’d conquered the land.

“Yeah, yeah. This’ll do nicely.”

“This your lots’ first gig?” Kiara wonders as she gets up to get you all drinks.

“Nah. We’ve done a couple at my uncle’s bar,” Pansy replies. “Benny managed to get us this thing at a fundraiser too, last month.”

“It’s nice trying somewhere new though,” you say. Pansy nods enthusiastically.

“Especially somewhere this cute!”

Kiara laughs, walking back over with three cups balanced in her hands. You and Pansy take one each and have a sip. Fresh lemonade; perfect for the April weather warmth.

“When’s Benny and Mike getting here?”

“Mike’s hitching a lift with Benny. Said they’ll be about ten minutes or so,” Pansy replies.

She puts down her cup and shrugs off her guitar case. Unzipping it, she retrieves her ‘baby’. You’re surprised she doesn’t start gushing over how beautiful she is. You and Kie keep chatting about how schools nearly finished for the year as Pansy sorts out the cables and amps for her electric guitar. She then props it on the stand.

Just as she said they would, Benny and Mike walk into The Wreck just under ten minutes later. They’re both wheeling in drum pieces. Mike dashes out to grab his bass from the van. You move to help Benny set up his drums.

“You borrow your dad’s van again?” you ask him.

He nods. “Surprised he isn’t making me pay for gas.”

As you sit back on your haunches, screwing in one of the bolts for the kick drum, Benny looks at you. “You look nice, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smile, not looking away from your handy work.

“New shorts?”

“Nah. Had them a while.”

“Oh. Well, they look nice.”

Benny lingers a moment longer, as if he might say something else, but then must think better of it and goes back to fixing the hi-hat.

“You nervous for tonight?”

“Not more than usual. I know I’ll be fine once we start playing,” you reply.

As the two of you finish setting up the drumkit, you glance off to see that Pansy has trapped Kie in some intense discussion about crystals. You knew it was risky introducing the two of them: two astrology girlies are a deadly combination. Mike sits off to the side, tuning his bass. The speaker’s on and it echoes around the room.

“Sounding groovy,” Kiara’s dad calls from the doorway of the kitchen.

Kie groans. “Dad, nobody says groovy.”

“Well, I do,” he says, winking at her. She rolls her eyes lovingly. “Think it should be a good crowd tonight, guys. Excited to hear you play.”

Pansy beams at him. “Thanks! We’ve been practising like mad for it!”

“Yeah. Pansy didn’t give us much of a choice,” Mike sardonically grins, making everyone laugh.

“Oh! I forgot to tell you!” Kiara says your name to catch your attention. “You remember me telling you about my friends, John B and all that? They’re coming too.”

“They are?” you ask, nervousness spiking.

She nods. “They’re super excited to meet you.”

There must be clear panic on your face because her enthusiasm evens out into a calming smile. “Hey! Don’t worry. They’re super chill.”

“Kie, no offense, but from some of the stories you’ve told me, they don’t sound super chill,” you mumble, going back to fixing another part of the drum into place.

“I mean they’re non-judgemental. Especially Pope. He’s a little weird too. Uh, no offence.”

“Offence,” you reply, though you smile when you do.

Kie calling you weird doesn’t bother you. Any other Kook at school doing it though, and you’d probably burst into tears.

“It’s alright. I’ll just sneak you out after the gig in a suitcase like they do with Taylor Swift,” Benny whispers to you. You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Great plan. Not obvious at all.”

The rest of the set-up goes to plan. After an hour, the instruments are plugged in and tuned up. Mike and Pansy have practised the bridge to one of the songs about twenty times, making your head begin to pound. Kiara’s dad has elicited Kie’s help in the kitchen with making the buffet-style meal. Their working was to do a pay-for-it-all sort of method: a set price of ten dollars per plate, loaded up as full as you want. Seconds and thirds were another five dollars. It seemed the best way to take orders without interrupting the gig. Kie’s mum comes to prepare the drinks. Bowls of punch for the kids and teens, and beers and cans for the adults.

By the time it comes close for you guys to play, the room is beginning to pack. You sit on the side of the stage, mostly hidden by one of the amps, with Pansy acting as an unofficial barrier for anybody who tries to talk to you. She’s glad to answer any questions, quickly diving into stories about the band name and the songs and whatever else comes to mind. Mike chimes in too, also rather extraverted, and you and Benny cower in the back like lost children in a shopping mall searching for their parents.

There’re the nerves before you play – like always – but the calmness of knowing that as soon as the first chord is strummed, it’ll fade out. You seem to slip into a corner of your brain when you guys play your songs. Like nobody can touch you or judge you. You’re almost able to fully let go.

“You guys ready?” Kiara’s dad asks, walking over to your foursome.

Nope. Nerves are back and in full force. Maybe you’ll throw up right here right now, and they’ll have to call the whole thing off.

“Hell yeah!” Pansy exclaims. She probably thinks she’s talking for all of you.

Kiara’s dad steps onto the stage and goes to the microphone, flicking it on. It buzzes to life, the noise catching people’s attention, and when he taps on it to make sure it’s working, the conversations naturally die down.

“Alright, folks! You guys are in for a treat tonight! The grooviest band from Kildare County is here to perform!”

You see Kie groan and shake her head from the back of the room, making you laugh. It helps ease your nerves. You don’t have time to check if her friends have arrived because you’re being ushered up by Pansy.

“Let’s here it for The Wallflowers!”

The applause from the small crowd that’s gathered feels like a stadium cheering you on. Pansy jumps on stage first, grabbing her guitar, waving happily to the crowd as if she knew each of them personally and had been banking on them to come. Mike gives a casual nod as he steps up and pulls on his bass. Benny slinks behind the drum kit, flashing the briefest of smiles to the crowd.

You focus on the floor and take a quick breath in. Here we go. Then you’re stepping onto the stage, forcing your head up, plastering on a smile, and waving.

Pansy always introduces the band. You can’t bring yourself to form words at the start of the show.

“How we all doing tonight?” She loudly asks, her voice echoing through the speakers.

The crowd give another whoop and cheer. It’s mostly teenagers and young adults, with some older couples and families intermixed. You catch Kiara’s eye and feel your shoulder’s relax a little when she gives a grin and thumbs-up. There’s not enough confidence in you to look at her friends.

Pansy introduces herself then names each one of you, pointing as she goes. Finally, she declares, “We’re The Wallflowers and we’ve got some songs to play for you tonight. You guys ready?”

You don’t take in the response from the crowd. Just close your eyes and wrap your hands around the microphone, searching for the tap of Benny’s drumsticks to count you in. Wait for it. Wait for it…

Two, three, four—

The moment Pansy strums her first chord, and Mike hits his first note, your mouth opens and the words fly out, second nature, without a thought.

“Sometimes I think I see your ghost…”

The anxiety gets shoved down, suppressed by something akin to confidence, and you manage to open your eyes. Your body naturally sways to the music, hands not leaving the microphone until you reach the first chorus.

“If you’re gonna love me, make sure that you do it right. I’ll be under your window in the moonlight.”

Fingers pushing through your hair, sweeping it off your shoulders, you dance a little to the beat. Benny’s hitting, keeping you all in rhythm, and Mike’s bass thrums lowly to keep you in tune. Pansy’s grinning – you see it from the corner of your eye – as she plays her guitar. It makes you smile. Your band; a mismatched group of teens from the sweeter side of Kook Academy. You have no idea how you managed to find them, but there’s no complaints to be heard. As if sinking into the cosiest of beds after a tiresome day, you relax into the music, relax in yourself.

After the first song, it becomes easy. You feel in your element, like a bird returning from migration, and start to engage with the crowd some more. Start having them clap along to the beat when the bridge starts up for the third song. Have them jumping a little to the chorus of the fifth.

“Ain’t she great?” Pansy encourages from them after the sixth song.

The strangers who’ve accumulated to see you, now a little buzzed, applaud and whistle. You feel your face flush hot. At the back, Kiara cheers the loudest, accompanied by several guys’ voices who holler. You look over and it’s then that you meet his eyes. JJ Maybank.

The nerves hit you full force.

Oh God.

Oh God.

How the hell are you supposed to sing another song knowing that he’s watching you? That someone who looks like that is listening to you sing your stupid little love-sick, fantasy-formed songs? You knew he was friends with Kie, but you didn’t think he’d actually show up.

You consider pretending to faint, but that’ll probably be more humiliating than just powering through. To distract yourself, you duck down to take a sip of water from your bottle.

“Come on,” you whisper, closing your eyes. Just one song left, and then you’re home free and can hide under your sheets for a week. Maybe two.

“This next one is mostly me and my girl,” Pansy announces, nodding to you as you rise back to stand. “We’re gonna bring it down a minute, alright? I wanna see lots of loved up couples slow dancing, you hear?”

There’re some chuckles. You’re always in awe of how easily she interacts with the crowd. Pansy begins to pick out the melody on her strings, turning to face you. She smiles reassuringly, nodding to count you in. The anxiety melts away as the words line up ready in your head. Taking a breath, you turn back to the microphone.

“I wither within when I’m without. Baptised in sin and blessed with doubt.”

From the corner of your eyes, you see a phone torch lift into the air. Then you see more and more people do the same, until there’s a powerful white glow shining on yourself and Pansy. You let out a small, bashful giggle. Through the phones, you spot Kiara again, nodding along to the beat and swaying. She’s got an easy smile on her face. You can’t help but glance your eyes to JJ, who’s at her side. His arms are crossed over his chest, face nearly stoic, but he’s swaying too. Looks almost deep in thought. Before he can clock that you’re looking at him, you flit your eyes back to the wall.

“There’s always someone, I’m tryna live up to. I can never get to you. You always seem closer, in the rear view…”

As the song goes on and your voice sings out, your eyes slip shut again. You sink into the words and let your mind drift into thoughts of romance and love. It had never been all that present in your life. Talking to strangers in the chance that they might be your friend was terrifying enough; if you find them attractive, then it’s game over. You practically become mute from nerves. That left you pretty lonely, romantically and otherwise. Besides, guys didn’t tend to go for girls who could barely spit out a sentence in a group project and are as often seen at a kegger or house party as a dodo bird. At least, not the type of guys you liked.

The ending of the song starts to build; Mike picks out a steady beat on his bass. You slowly begin to clap on every other beat. Gradually, the crowd joins in as the melody from Mike continues. Once enough people have joined, you decide to pick up the lyrics.

“You love me. I love you. You don’t love me anymore, I still do. I’m sorry. I’m trying. I hate it when you catch me crying.”

One the final lyric, Benny’s joining in, Pansy in tow. The big finish arrives, the crowd stopping their clapping to whoop and bash their heads to the heavy beat. You repeat the lyrics again, finding your grin once more at the sight of everyone having fun (save for some dwellers and shoe-watchers on the outskirts).

“I hate it when you catch me crying.”

The song comes to an abrupt end. Pansy lets her last note ring out. When the crowd cheers and applauds, you laugh bashfully into the microphone, your face so hot that you worry it might explode.

“Thank you,” you manage out with a smile.

“We’ve been The Wallflowers! Follow us on Spotify and Instagram! Good night!” Pansy shamelessly promotes, waving with both hands in farewell.

You take an awkward bow, Benny waving nervously from behind the drum kit, and then Kiara’s dad is flicking on the main lights. The chatter of the crowd soon kicks up now that you guys are done playing, and Kie’s dad switches back on the usual playlist that buzzes through the restaurant to fill the background’s quiet. You turn to Pansy to find her beaming, practically vibrating on the spot with excitement. She ambushes you and Mike in a group hug.

“You guys did amazing! We fucking rocked! Holy shit! We’re playing here all the time!”

You laugh at her ways, hugging her back tentatively. You’d never been the best with physical affection, which was a perfect match for Pansy, who didn’t seem capable of doing anything without a bear hug.

“It was pretty rad,” Mike agrees, nodding. Cool and calm as ever.

Benny emerges from behind the drums, shaking his head of ginger hair out of his eyes. “I think we sounded alright, yeah,” he says, smiling at you.

“Alright? We sounded fucking amazing!” Pansy screeches.

You flush with embarrassment. “I could’ve hit the note a bit better on—”

“Oh, would you guys stop it and just enjoy the moment!” Pansy berates, pulling back to mirthfully roll her eyes. “The truth is we sounded great, and you know it.”

“She’s right!” Kiara calls from below.

You turn your head and smile at her. Pansy nods in approval, pulling Mike and Benny into a conversation, as you climb down to talk to Kiara.

“You liked it?” you ask.

“Are you kidding? You guys are awesome!”

“Thanks,” you laugh, reluctant to accept the compliment.

The place is starting to fill out now that the gig and serving is done. A few people linger to chat and discuss the show, but most filter out the front and back doors. Gradually, it gets easier to hear the reggae music through the speakers.  

“You’ve gotta meet the gang before we leave! Come on,” Kiara says as your chatter about music dies down.

Before you can register her words, she’s grabbing at your wrist and guiding you outside to where the boys are loitering. Your meek protests fall on deaf ears and soon you’re face to face with the trio. Kiara announces your name proudly, as if presenting an award, and you awkwardly wave, barely making eye contact with any of them. Least of all JJ.

“Hey,” John B smiles. He has a nice smile. Friendly and warm. “I’m John B. This is Pope-”

“-You guys sounded great, by the way,” Pope says to you. You feel overwhelmed by the praise and vaguely nod in thanks, hopefully smiling as you do.

“-And JJ.”

At his name, you find yourself looking up at him. He’s taking a hit of his vape and offers you a smile, then he holds out his fist to bump yours. It takes you too long to clock what he means. By the time your fist hits his, he’s halfway retracted his own. It’s already a mess. Oh God. Maybe that spilt-beer puddle on the table is deep enough to drown yourself in.

“I liked that last song.”

You blink out of your panic-filled haze and into his eyes. “The last one?”

“Yeah. The slower one that goes all loud at the end? What’s it called?”

“Rear view.”  

He bobs his head, the silence stretching out. Say something else. When you wrote it, maybe. Before your brain can catch up to formulate anything else outside of your blunt response, JJ’s taking another hit of his vape.

“Well…It’s a good song.”

“Thanks,” you cloddishly say.

Oh God. It’s terrible. It’s painful. It’s…

“You wanna come back to the chateau and hang out?” John B wonders.

“The chateau?”

“It’s just this dumb nickname for John B’s house,” Kiara says.

“Hey!”

“You wanna?” she asks, ignoring him.

“Oh, um…”

You glance back inside The Wreck, through the window, seeing you friends chatting animatedly. Benny’s smiling, which is always a good sign. Then you look back to Kiara and her friends. The Pogues, as she often called them. Your eyes fall on JJ last. He isn’t looking at you, instead out to the distance, as if waiting to leave. Yep – you blew it. Good job.

“I’ll pass,” you say, tone apologetic. “Need to talk with my band.”

“Oh. Well, let us know if you change your mind,” Kie smiles, recovering easily.

You nod and accept her offer of a hug. Then you’re walking back into the restaurant, ungainly waving goodbye to her friends. John B and Pope wave back, and JJ nods his head at you in farewell.

As soon as you’re out of ear shot, you look down at the floor and sigh.

Whispering to yourself, you can’t help but say, “good job, me.”

~*~*~*~*~*

The fishing supply shop you’d stumbled upon was more like a shack. There was a mom-and-pops feel to it; a hand painted sign that creaked when it swung in the breeze (the lingering presence of spring, fighting to stay before summer would cast it out). You push through the door, hearing the chime of the bell, and look down at the list your dad had given you. Looking back up to the rows of goods, you feel as if everything is spelt in Spanish. Sighing, you go to start searching for the things on his list. It doesn’t help that he’s been wonderfully vague: lures, hooks, bait. You look at some of the boxes and take one down to inspect the label better. You’re pretty sure these are hooks…

“Hey, you’re Kie’s friend, right? That chick in the band?”

Assuming somebody’s talking to you, you look up, to the right, and come eye to eye with JJ. Your mouth instantly goes dry like the Sahara.

“Yeah,” you say. You’re trying to smile but it’s like the muscles in your face have gone lax. Why are you so Goddamn inept sometimes?

“I’m JJ,” he says, fixing his cap. “We met at The Wreck?”

“No, I know,” you tell him. You don’t mean for it to sound rude – merely stating a fact that of course you know who he is – but through your nerves, it sounds clipped. Like he’s bothering you.

JJ nods, a little awkward himself now. “No, yeah, of course.”

Just as you’re willing up the guts to apologise for your hopeless social skills, JJ’s filling the silence once more.

“You fish?”

“What?”

“Do you like fishing?”

What a weird question. “No.”

“Oh,” he says. He glances around. “Then…Why are you in a fishing shop?”

Oh. Yeah, duh.

“Oh, my dad does,” you say, lifting the list to show him. JJ’s eyes skim it briefly and he nods, quietly letting out an ‘ah’. “Asked me to pick some stuff up for him.”

Oh God, shut up.

“Well, this place is a pretty good spot to go for your gear,” he tells you.

“Do you fish?”

And, good job, you’ve managed to ask a normal question.

JJ smiles and it seems as if he’s relaxing into himself again. It makes you feel easier too; it’s always painful when your awkwardness rubs off on others, like the spreading of a disease.

“Yeah, I do. My whole family were fishermen and stuff. Can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fishing,” JJ says.

Whilst you prepare yourself to ask more about his family, and what sort of fishing he does, JJ’s flashing you a friendly grin and nodding down to your list.

“Well, I’ll let you get back to it. Hope you find everything.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks. Um, you too,” you reply.

You final have enough control of yourself to smile at him. It might be your delusions contorting your perception, but you’re sure JJ’s smile grows a bit brighter when you do.

Turning away, you go back to staring hopelessly at the box in your hand. The front is raving about the benefits of this style of hook, reeling of jargon as if trying to impress a university professor. It’s useless. Not only are your thoughts now hijacked by overthinking everything you said in that conversation, and the fact that JJ Maybank spoke to you on his own agenda; you still haven’t learnt anything about fishing in the last five minutes. You’ll just get a receipt and your dad can come back and fix whatever mess you make of this seemingly easy errand.

“You gonna buy those?”

JJ’s still there, stood at your side. He’s looking at the box from over your shoulder. You look up to him.

“Yeah?”

“Those ones are pure crap. No, no, you want the good stuff,” JJ tells you, shaking his head.

He takes the box from your hand and replaces it with another, from a higher shelf. Tapping on the cover, he begins to read off some of the hooks’ perks (who knew there could be so many?).

“I mean, they’re a little more expensive but you get more bang for your buck, you know? Those other ones’ll snap after like four days on the water.”

When he looks back into your eyes, he must see the blank look behind them. He laughs. “Just trust me on this.”

“Okay,” you say, finding a laugh.

“Here, what else’s on your list?” JJ asks, taking the scrap of paper from you.

You don’t complain. Being in his orbit feels like you’re seeing the earth from space; even if it’s just him helping you buy fishing gear, there’s no way you’re going to pass up this opportunity.

JJ keeps talking, jovial in tone, casually dropping reams of information and tips about fishing. As he starts moving around the store in search of items, you blindly follow, nodding along, though only half understanding what he’s saying. It just feels nice to hear him talk. He has a nice voice; one that easily brings a smile. There’s the strong, Carolina accent that shines through, intermixed with slang that’s robust on the cut.

“So, what band are you guys a tribute for?” JJ wonders as he inspects different wires.

“What’d you mean?”

“You know, like who’s music are you playing? I haven’t heard it before.”

“They’re originals,” you say. His head whips around, eyes wide.

“No way.”

“Yeah. I, uh, wrote the songs myself,” you admit, modest.

“You wrote them? That’s insane!”

“Well, they’re not Fleetwood Mac or anything—”

“—Well, nobody’s Fleetwood Mac, for starters,” JJ interrupts, turning back to the wires. “And not anybody can write songs. I sure as hell can’t. Fucking hopeless with words.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you laugh. You feel as if you’re inching out of your shell, the longer you talk to him.

His shoulders, strong and built, shrug under the cotton of his tee shirt. On the back, there’s an emblem: Kildare County Boating Supplies. “Born with my foot in my mouth. Never know when to shut the hell up, half the time.”

“Oh, same here.”

JJ laughs. He glances over his shoulder at you. The crinkles on his cheeks from his smile give him a boyish look of innocence. “Oh, you’re funny, huh?”

“Not usually,” you reply.

“Nah, I doubt Kie could be friends with someone who didn’t have a sense of humour,” JJ lightly argues.

He seems to have decided on a wire and picks up a box, handing it to your building pile stacked up in your arms.

“I think we got it all,” he says, checking over the list. It’s fickle how the term ‘we’ makes your heart stutter.

The two of you head to the counter, gently dumping all the items. You request two bags, knowing you’ll need as much help as you can get to lug it all home. JJ’s still lingering by you. The cashier begins to scan through the items.

“Oh, shit,” JJ mumbles, grinning. He’s looking at a pocketknife on the counter; picks it up to inspect it.

Confused, you ask, “what is it?”

“It’s the latest model,” JJ says.

“There’s different models of pocketknife?” you hear yourself ask.

JJ chuckles, still inspecting it. You notice how the cashier is eyeing him up, like he might just slip it into his pocket, then and there. He probably doesn’t catch the glare you shoot at him.

“These guys make the best ones. My dad gave me his old one and it lasted for like ten years. Damn.”

Your eyes glance down to the box he took it from, checking the price. It’s more than what you’d pay for a pocketknife, but apparently it seems to be worth the money. JJ eventually puts it back.

“That everything for you, dear?” the cashier checks.

JJ seems to take it as his cue to leave. Shoving his hands in his short pockets, he flashes you a smile and a nod.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Kie’s friend.”

“Thanks for your help.”

“Course,” JJ shrugs. He nods to the cashier in farewell, too, then heads out the door.

Looking to the cashier, who’s still waiting for a reply, then down to the box of pocketknives, you smile, overcome with an idea. After you’ve paid up and packed your bags as quickly as you can, you thank the cashier before darting out the store, glancing around for JJ. He hasn’t gone very far, walking towards the docks. You remember Kie telling you about Pope’s dad Hayward, and how he lived on the waterside, and you put two-and-two together. Before the small bout of adrenaline can leave, along with your confidence, you jog over to him, calling his name.

JJ turns around and smiles, a little confused. “You good?”

“Here,” you say, digging about in your short pocket to retrieve the knife. You hold out the pocketknife to him, hands shaking a bit. “As a thank you.”

He looks down at it. Then, he begins to frown. “Why’d you do that?”

“As a thanks,” you repeat. You’re still holding it out. Heart pounding in your ears. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea after all. You overstepped. He was just being helpful and you made it weird, like always.

JJ scoffs, shifting his weight. He glances off to the water. Looking down at you, jaw somewhat tense, he says, “I don’t need your charity, you know?”

Frowning, you reply, “it’s not charity. It’s…A sign of gratitude, I guess?”

He eyes the knife like it might be laced with Anthrax. Okay, this is getting slightly ridiculous.

“Look, will you just take it? I’ve got no use for it, so it’ll just go to waste if you don’t,” you say impatiently.

JJ’s eyes flash up to yours. There’s a twitch in his cheek, threatening a smirk. Chuckling quietly, he reluctantly accepts the gift.

“Okay, I will. Uh, thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” you say, nodding. Good. That was good. The only problem is that now that you’ve done that, the interaction has come to a natural end, and you have nothing else to say to fill the gaps. “Well…Have a good day.”

Chuckling, he nods, waving you off. “You too.”

The moment your back’s turned to him; you exhale out the lingering nerves. Your smile doesn’t fade, turning almost giddy from the fleeting conversations you’d shared. It’s brought you too much joy that JJ just accepted a pocketknife off you; it’s practically pathetic. Nonetheless, you don’t berate yourself too much. Instead, you walk home, replaying the way JJ chuckled and smiled down at you when you let your patience slip.

~*~*~*~*~*

As an introvert, you’ve managed to find your way out of plenty of social gatherings. Award ceremonies? Stomach bug. Presentations? Stomach bug. House parties? You guessed it – stomach bug. Keggers? Any ideas…?

One gathering that you’ve never been able to get out of - nor have ever been able to say no to, out of guilt - are birthdays. Any sort of birthday celebration, no matter how big or how small, and you feel have to go. You almost feel like it’s your duty to. Friends were a rarity in your life, like finding emeralds and gold, and you didn’t want to risk it by making it seem like you didn’t care about someone’s special day. Even if parties made your stomach feel like it was filled with led and you barely opened your mouth in fear that you might puke with anxiety, you force yourself to any that you’re invited to.

For Pansy, it was always a house party. Some big, ridiculous do that her rich parents would throw. Streamers and themes and a hired DJ. A huge, ridiculous cake that barely got eaten and party favours that were practically insulting in price. She didn’t care all that much about it, but she was an only child and boy do rich parents like to spoil their only off-spring. It was sort of sweet though. Her parents weren’t trying to buy her affection: they genuinely did care for her, and just wanted her to have a good time. So, when Pansy’s birthday rolled around, at the beginning of June – just after school finished up for summer – you get the dreaded text:

Birthday bash on Friday night: be there or else.

A knife emoji, and then…

Love ya!

You groan and toss your head back, flopping onto the pile of pillows on Kiara’s bed. Her phone chimes a moment later and, after reading the text, she flashes you a pitiful smile.

“Pansy’s birthday party?”

“Mhm,” you hum.

“It’ll be fun!”

Unconvinced. “Mhm.”

“Come on. We can get ready together and pre-drink together and get drunk together. It’ll be great.”

Easing yourself up reluctantly, you cock a brow at her. “Really?”

“Yes! It’ll be great,” she repeats, firmer as if in promise. The ding of her phone prompts her to read the second message. You watch as her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh! She invited the Pogues, too.”

“Like the band?” you ask tiredly, rubbing your forehead.

You wouldn’t be all that surprised. One year her parents managed to bag ‘The 1975’ for a birthday-shoutout-video-call. Don’t ask.

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Like JJ, John B and Pope: The Pogues. Dumbass.”

Your eyes shoot open.

JJ.

Hoping to sound nonchalant, you watch Kie type away on her phone as you ask, “well, you don’t think they’ll wanna go though, right? I mean, didn’t you say they hate Kooks?”

There’s the telling whoosh noise that a text has been sent. She looks up at you and shrugs. “They probably will. They might hate Kooks but they love open bars.”

Great. No, yeah, that’s great. You’ll run into JJ again and the conversation will be doubly as awkward and you’ll make a fool of yourself, like you always do, and you’ll go drown in the pool that’s overflowing with your tears of embarrassment. No, great. That’s just—

“Great.”

The theme for Pansy’s seventeenth turns out to be 2000s. She’s dressed up as Regina George from Mean girls – the scene where she has circles cut out of her white vest top, showing through her pink bra. She sends you a picture of her costume on the night, whilst you’re at Kiara’s getting ready.

“Woah. She looks amazing,” you grin, showing the phone to Kie.

She’s sat on the bed, working on her eye make-up. Momentarily glancing away from the mirror to check your phone, she smiles and gives her mark of approval. You text Pansy back, gushing over her costume, and then follow it up with a blatant lie: so excited for tonight! Tossing your phone to the side, you look in the mirror and get back to working on your hair, portioning it in two to style it into pigtails. You’ve dressed up as one of the Powerpuff Girls. Namely, Bubbles: the sweet, quiet, innocent one. In many ways, you feel as though you are Bubbles. The costume’s fun and reminds you of childhood.

“John B just text me,” she tells you, glancing down at her phone that’s pinging away. “Says they’re still at the chateau and will probably show up later. I reckon we’ll be ready to leave for Pansy’s in ten.”

“Are all of them going?” you ask. You’re not sure what you want her answer to be.

“Yep. Even Pope,” she says.

You look back into the mirror and swallow your nerves. It’ll be fine. It’ll be great, just as Kiara promised. Reaching for your bottle of cider, you down the rest and finish getting ready.

It takes about fifteen minutes to walk to Pansy’s house from Kiara’s. The two of you start up the path towards the house. It’s impressive. Modern and ageless, with contemporary finishes and floor-to-ceiling windows on nearly every wall. Painted exuberant white, the place stands as a monument to money. There’s a fountain in the front garden and an electronically powered front gate that’s been left open for the night. The two of you head up the stairs to the front door. Music is pulsing, sneaking out the house and into the night, and you take a breath in preparation. Kie seems to notice and takes your hand, smiling and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. With that, you remind yourself why you’re putting yourself through this hell. Pansy’s birthday.

It's rammed and loud and overstimulating in every way. There’re couples making out on the coach and friends dancing near a speaker and two guys arguing loudly by the window. Empty cups and bottles, an abandoned bong on the coffee table (another perk of having rich parents: they let you do whatever you want). Somebody’s already passed out on the stairs, with other party goers narrowly dodging them as they rush off to the bathroom or in search of a quiet room. Kiara guides you through the house, through the kitchen, in search for Pansy. Your hand never leaves hers. The pounding of the bass is so loud that it’s hard to tell what’s your heartbeat and what isn’t.

You spot Mike first. He’s lent on the counter of the island, chatting to a girl you don’t recognise.

“Hey, Mike,” you say, finding your smile from the familiar face. He looks to you and grins.

“Hey!” his low voice booms. He wraps you in a quick hug. “Wasn’t sure if you were gonna come?”

“You know me,” you smile, queasy. “Anything for Pansy.”

“Amen,” he nods, tipping his beer in approval. He greets Kie, having met her at The Wreck the other week.

“You know where Pansy is?”

“Out back, last time I checked,” he replies, nodding to the backdoor.

You thank him and drag yourself and Kie out the patio doors and into the garden. Scanning the area, you try and spot your friend. There’s people swimming in the pool, cannonballing in, and others dancing to the music. Someone throwing up. A bong being passed around. Beer pong and drinking Jenga and…It’s chaos. Keep it together.

Then, you spot Pansy. She’s lent against the shed, chatting away to a half-arsed Juno. Walking over, the moment she clocks you and Kiara, the other conversation is ditched. Throwing her arms out – already drunk and probably high – she gives a cheer of your names.

“You made it!”

“Better late than never,” Kiara grins.

You let her hug you; almost have the life squeezed out of you in the process. “Happy birthday, Pansy.”

“Damn right, it’s a happy birthday,” she grins. “Look at this rager!”

 Kiara nods in approval, taking it all in. “Having fun?”

“I am now!” Pansy exclaims. “Maybe now that you’re here, Benny’ll finally show up.”

“Benny’s here?” you ask.

“Mhm. I lost him about five minutes in, though. He’s probably hiding under the stairs, poor thing,” she says, shaking her head. Looking to Kie, she asks, “did the Pogues come along?”

“They should show up at some point,” Kie nods, smiling.

“Oh, yes! Finally, my plan can come into action!” Pansy says. She then gives a laugh that borders on psychotic.

You frown, befuddled. “Your plan?”

“My set-you-up-with-JJ plan? Only been waiting since the fifth grade,” she buzzes.

Your face drops. Your stomach plummets. All your internal organs flop out of your body and land on the floor, with your heart last.

One too many drinks in Pansy, and she casually lets slip of your biggest, most pathetic secret on earth, to none other than one of JJ’s best friends.

“What?” Kiara practically shouts. She gapes at you.

Pansy’s face quickly switches from excitement to dread, as her brain seems to catch up. “Wait…Shit, I wasn’t supposed to say that, was I?”

“Nope,” you say, through gritted teeth.

Hold it together. Hold it together.

“JJ?” Kiara checks. She’s staring at you as if you’ve just done an Irish jig.

You don’t reply. Not sure you can. You swallow thickly and stare down at the floor.

Then, scarily calm, you say, “I think I’m gonna go get another drink.”

Neither of them stops you – Pansy already distracted and Kiara practically in shell-shock – and you slink back into the house. You grab the first thing you find (another bottle of beer) and frantically search for a bottle opener, cracking it open. Downing half of it, you look around for Mike. He’s not where he was stood before. You have no idea where the hell to even start looking for Benny. You finish the bottle and then look for another. In the process, you decide that having a shot of vodka might be alright and take a swig or two right from the bottle. Okay, maybe a little more than a shot.

There’s a hand on your arm, tugging, and it catches your attention.

“There you are!” Kiara sighs in relief. “Look, it’s okay that you have a crush on JJ. If anything, it’s better than okay! It’s kinda sweet! I just wish you’d told me—”

“Kie, please, stop,” you say, shaking your head. “I really don’t want to talk about this right now, alright? Pansy didn’t mean to say that. I don’t…It’s not even true!”

She pulls a face as if to say ‘yeah, right’ but doesn’t argue. “Well…If you ever wanna talk about it—”

“--I really don’t—”

“--But if you ever do! You can, alright?”

She means it. You can hear it in her voice and see it on her face. Sighing, you nod. She smiles at that.

“Look, I’m not gonna tell him, okay? I would never do that,” she assures you. You smile, nodding once more. Your stomach feels like a mosh-pit.

“Good. Now, come on! I promised you a great night and I meant it.”

Kiara ropes you into a game of drinking Jenga. At some point, Pansy joins, then Mike. After three rounds – and two shots to get out of doing dares – you begin to feel weird. It’s then that you realise, as the world becomes fuzzy and your thoughts start to mush, that all the alcohol you’ve been necking is hitting at once.

Oh no.

You excuse yourself to go find the bathroom, hoping to have a moment to pull yourself together, and despite Kiara’s instance you tell her not to follow. You just need a moment alone to calm down your heartrate. Why does it suddenly feel like it’s going to beat out of your chest now? You’ve been to Pansy’s house plenty of times before, but you suddenly feel lost. People are crammed into every room like sardines, all of them strangers, and you can’t grasp your bearings. The alcohol isn’t helping, nor the panic, and the longer your search for a bathroom or an empty space, the more you feel like the walls are closing in. At some point, you end up in a corridor of the house. It’s a little quieter than in the main rooms, a few bodies lining the walls, some girls sat on the floor chatting. The only light is a single bulb hanging above. At the sight of you stumbling down the hall, one of the girls must think you look as bad as you feel.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asks.

You nod, trying to smile, but you’re honestly not sure what expression is on your face anymore. The bathroom door is locked. No. The girl is coming up to you, maybe thinking she’s being helpful, but you hate strangers and you hate conversations and you hate parties and

Why did you come?

You’ve spoken about five words to Pansy all night! She’d understand if you didn’t; probably wouldn’t even miss you. Great. Something about that thought has tears stinging your eyes, and the random girl who’s made it her new mission in life to help you is only spurred on. She’s shushing you and it makes it all worse: you’re so embarrassed. If there’s anything you dread more than talking to strangers, it’s crying in front of them. Is this a nightmare?

The sound of your name reflexively has you turning your head. It’s JJ.

“Jesus, you don’t look too good,” he says.

Great.

His eyes flit to the girl uselessly trying to calm you down from your panic attack. He ushers her off you, half-arsedly thanking her, and then he’s guiding you from the hallway and through a door. It’s a bathroom. Maybe the door you’d been trying earlier wasn’t a bathroom? It’s all so confusing. You didn’t even know JJ was here; just assumed the Pogues hadn’t bothered showing up. You suddenly realise that you’re still hyperventilating, in front of your crush of all people, and then you remember that Pansy let slip to Kiara that you have a crush on JJ and…

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” JJ’s saying. He’s frowning at you, concerned.

You’re shaking your head, waving him off. “I’m fine. It’s fine. Sorry. I’m sorry! You can go back to the party!”

That would all be believable if you weren’t gasping out the words. JJ doesn’t listen. He doesn’t even acknowledge that you’ve spoken. You don’t bother to try again. The ground seems a good place to go. Solid and unmoving. You slide down the bathroom wall and gasp in air. It won’t seem to stay in your lungs, as if fighting to escape, and you start to cry.

JJ’s saying your name in a soothing voice. He’s squatting in front of you, watching as you pull your knees up to your chest. God, this is humiliating.

“We’re gonna play a game, okay?”

A game?

“Yeah, yeah. It’s called the ‘five things’ game, alright?”

“I don’t…I don’t understand…” you cry, shutting your eyes.

Playing a game is the last thing you need right now. You just need to breathe. Why can’t you breathe?

“I’ll go first, alright? I have to name five things beginning with…Gimme a letter,” he says.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You write songs, for Christ’s sake,” he laughs, tone gentle. “Come on. One letter. That’s all I’m asking.”

You sort of want him to shut up, so you scramble through your thoughts. “T.”

“Okay, alright. I have to name five things beginning with ‘T’,” JJ says.

All you can hear is your panting for a while. You feel lightheaded.

“Um…Toothbrush. That’s one. How about…”

You crack open your eyes. He’s looking around the room. You notice his cap’s abandoned on the floor. Move your eyes to his legs, mostly bare save for his shorts, and to his chest.

“Tee shirt,” you offer, breathless. JJ’s head whips around to look at you. He smiles encouragingly.

“Yeah, tee shirt. Okay, three more.”

You begin to glance around the room. Stomach still rising and falling, you try and search for something beginning with ‘T’. It’s suddenly become the most important thing in the world.

“Toilet,” you say as your eyes drift over to it. “And toilet brush.”

“Damn, you’re on a roll,” JJ chuckles. You barely manage a laugh. Your head doesn’t feel as fuzzy anymore. “Just one more.”

It’s then that you realise he’s had a hand on your knee the whole time. Rubbing slow, concentric circles on the skin. You start to focus on the feeling of it, looking down as he does it. He’s gone back to searching the room, as if he’s forgotten he’s doing it.

“Touch.”

JJ frowns, looking back to you, then following your gaze to his hand. His smile is almost shy. “Yeah, that counts. Touch.”

The panic attack has eased off. Your lungs are finally doing their job, filling with air and holding it for longer than a millisecond. Exhaling slowly, closing your eyes, you tilt your head back against the wall.

“Better?” JJ wonders.

“A little. Thank you, for helping I mean,” you say.

“Don’t mention it. I know how shit it feels. I’ve had my fair share of panic attacks,” JJ tells you.

There’s a shuffle as he moves to sit on the floor. He retracts his hand from your knee and you immediately miss the feel. Opening your eyes, you look at him with a frown.

“You have?”

“Mhm,” he nods. “John B had to calm me down almost everyday at one point. It sucked.”

“Is that where you learnt that trick?”

“Yeah,” JJ says, offering a small smile. “It’s a good distraction.”

You nod. You’ve never tried it before. Always found that you could ground yourself with your breathing, but everything out there was too much, too crazy, for you to focus. Correcting how you sit, crossing your legs (the skater skirt smoothing out over your thighs), you sigh and hang your head.

“I hate parties.”

JJ chuckles. “No kidding.”

You snort, shaking your head.

“But hey, least you look pretty though.”

You look up. There’s very little energy left in you to overthink what he’s just said. No room left to panic.

“I do?”

“Yeah,” he smiles. “I like your costume.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. Your fingers move down to mess with the hem of your skirt.

“Who’re you meant to be?”

You can’t help but bark out a laugh. “How can you like my costume when you don’t even know who I am?”

JJ laughs, after seemingly being taken aback by your outburst. “I dunno. I like that skirt on you.”

“I’m Bubbles. From the Powerpuff Girls,” you tell him as your laughter dies down.

Realisation flashes across his face as quick as a comet darting through the sky. “Oh! Oh shit, of course!”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Hell yeah!” JJ grins. “Mojo Jojo was my favourite character as a kid!”

“Ugh, he’s iconic,” you groan happily, tossing your head back.

“That one episode, when he gets told off by the professor,” JJ reminisces excitedly.

“I loved that one!”

The two of you laugh.

“Who’re you meant to be?”

“Um…Well, I didn’t get the memo it’s a costume party,” he admits with a wince, smiling.

“You could say you’re from…The Hangover?” you offer after a moment’s thought.

JJ cringes. “That might be worse than just saying I forgot to wear a costume.”

You laugh, nodding. “True.”

There’s a brief moment where the two of you just look at one another, smiling contently. You always knew JJ was pretty (as Pansy so graciously revealed to Kie earlier), but up close, under the white light of the bathroom, he’s gorgeous. A cute smile, shining eyes. The most perfect jawline that you could write reams of songs about just on its own.

“Think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me,” JJ points out.

Your smile turns solemn, nodding. When you reply, you talk quietly, as if revealing a secret.

“I’m not very good at talking to people.”

“Can I ask you a question, then?”

“Mhm.”

“Why’d you come to this house party? Doesn’t really seem to be your scene,” JJ asks.

Nodding, affirming his theory, you shrug and look down at his feet. He’s wearing black boots, shiny and heavy.

“It’s Pansy’s birthday, and she’s always been a big birthday fan. She’s one of my closest friends and she’s always there for me; always has my back. So, I figure, I can hack one night of the year at a stupid, over-the-top party for her. And usually I can…But I guess, I just couldn’t tonight.”

As you finish talking, you lift your head to take in JJ’s reaction. He’s nodding, a small smile still on his face.

“You’re a good friend.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You are,” he affirms. Your face goes warm and you shrug. Laughing, he adds, “you’re also shit at accepting compliments. I noticed that when we first met after your gig.”

You chuckle. Looking up to the ceiling, you feel your confession bubbling out of you, likely driven by the alcohol. “Yeah, well, all what I remember after the gig is thinking that you didn’t like me.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you say, chuckling in self-deprecation. You meet JJ’s eyes, see the confusion shining in them. “You sorta seemed uninterested to talk to me. Which is fine, I figured you would be. But after the fishing shop - and now tonight - I’m starting to think I was wrong?”

“Yeah, you’re wrong,” JJ laughs. He’s not laughing at you, though. It’s almost as if he’s laughing at himself.

He rocks his head back and nods at the ceiling, pursing his lips in thought.

“I’m sorry if I made you feel like that, at The Wreck. It’s just…Kiara told me you were kinda quiet, before we met, and I’m kind of…not. I didn’t wanna freak you out or anything, so I tried to be more chill. Guess it had the opposite effect though.”

There’s a selcouth feeling in your body when JJ speaks. It’s like something in your chest lurches. In your stomach, there’s a feeling like the butterflies you get before a show, but they’re sweeter and gentler, as if calming down in preparation to cocoon. As if the nerves are fading and you’re desensitised.

He looks back down at you, right into your eyes, and you wonder if he can see into your thoughts. If he can see how much you like him.

“Well, I think we’re friends now, so, no hard feelings,” you tentatively say. JJ cracks a smile, nodding.

“Yeah. We’re friends,” he assures you.

Strange, how something that you thought would bring you so much joy only makes you feel a little bit worse than before.

~*~*~*~*~*

It’s dark in the chateau, the kitchen counter only illuminated by a single orange-hued lamp. You’re halfway measuring out some sugar when you think you hear a noise. The creak of a floorboard. Frowning, you hesitantly start towards the corridor, where the sound’s coming from. Maybe something got in the house? A raccoon?

JJ rounds the corner the same time you do, almost bumping into you. He lets out a yelp and grabs at his heart, the same time you jump back about ten feet.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, laughing. “You scared the shit outta me.”

“Sorry,” you smile in apology (as if he hadn’t made you almost crap yourself too).

“Thought you were Big John’s ghost or something,” JJ mumbles, rubbing at his face tiredly.

You frown, walking back to the counter where you’d previously been. “Are you saying I look like John B’s dad?”

“No you- That’s not – You look very womanly-”

He cuts off his rambles with a sigh, shaking his head as he laughs at himself. Running his fingers through his bedhead, he seems to come to a realisation that you’re not usually at the chateau.

“Wait? What are you even doing here? It’s late.”

“Went surfing with Kie. Got tired, took a nap on the pull-out, woke up about ten minutes ago,” you explain, keeping your voice soft as to not wake-up John B.

“Can’t fall back asleep?” JJ asks.

“Wide awake.”

“Damn. Hate when that happens. How come you’re in the kitchen?”

“Thought I’d make brownies,” you shrug. You pick up the box of cocoa powder and the bag of flour, showing them to JJ. “You guys have all the ingredients.”

“God, brownies sound so good right now,” JJ moans, tossing his head back.

Laughing, you go back to measuring out flour with a cup. JJ goes to the fridge. The white light shines bright on his face. There’s the indent of the pillow on his cheek. His eyes are squinting against the light, a little bleary from sleep.

“Come to think, the last time I had brownies, they were these amazing edibles,” he says as he searches for something to take.

“Oh? Were they good?”

“So good,” he says. JJ grabs a carton of juice and hops onto the far counter to sit, taking swigs.

“I probably have enough stuff to bake a batch of edibles too, to be honest,” you offer after a moment’s thought. Looking to him, hands dusted with flour, you ask, “you got enough to spare?”

“Hell yeah!” JJ grins.

Ever since you and JJ bonded at the party, you feel as though there’s been a barrier removed. He isn’t as scary as you thought he would be. Easier to talk to than you imagined.

“I’ve always kinda wanted to try them,” you admit.

“Wait, have you ever smoked before?”

You chuckle down at the bowl, then sarcastically ask, “What do you think?”

“Really?” JJ gapes. “I thought you’d be all for it. It’d probably help you relax and stuff…”

He almost cuts himself off, as if trying to reel in his words. “I…I mean…”

You can’t help but glance to him, face serious as you deadpan, “what do you mean? I’m like the most laid-back person ever.”

JJ’s crystal-clear panic that he’s genuinely offended you has you breaking your façade with a quiet laugh.

“I’m joking. I’m probably the most high-strung person ever. Feel like weed was kinda made for me.”

JJ laughs too, giving a small sigh of relief.

“I’m kinda curious to see what you’re like high,” he tells you.

“Me too. Hopefully it doesn’t have me bouncing off the walls,” you say.

“Nah. That’s coke that’ll do that to you. Hard to imagine you on coke.”

“You tried it?” You wonder, non-judgemental as you ask.

JJ shrugs. He has another swig of juice. The muscle tee he’s wearing hangs lose on his built frame.

“Once or twice. My dad’s sorta a junkie though. Put me off, you know?”

“Shit. I’m sorry,” you softly reply.

JJ hadn’t mentioned his family a lot, but neither had you and neither does anybody. You’d heard the passing news of JJ’s dad being involved in some sort of pharmacy robbery in the county for Oxytocin, but never dug about. It wasn’t any of your business, and the malicious world of medicine and addiction wasn’t some black and white picture like the Kooks at school liked to paint it out to be.

Shrugging it off, clearly not in the mood to get into it, JJ asks, “was that fishing stuff you got for your dad useful?”

“Yeah,” you say. You’ve started on the wet ingredients now: cracking eggs into a measuring jug. “His exact words were, ‘I never knew you had such a gift for fishing’. I think I’m gonna become his fish-fetching-bitch now.”

JJ barks out a laugh. “You know, I never expected you to be funny.”

You roll your eyes as you begin to fold the wet ingredients into the dry. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re also cute when you bake.”

“Can you not compliment me?” you nervously chuckle. “It makes me uncomfortable. Not cause of you, it’s just…I’m not good with the complimenting thing.”

“Too late. It’s my life’s mission to get you to actually accept a compliment without going all-”

You catch him do an overemphasised impression of you becoming flustered. You scrunch your nose in light-hearted disapproval. He grins at you as he snaps out of the character.

“-You know?”

“Well, I hope you’ve got a long life,” is all you say. “Wanna grab the goods?”

JJ hops off the counter with newfound fever, making you laugh. When he returns, he stands beside you, juice carton ditched to the side. He smells like soap and weed and smoke from the bonfire. You go to grab the plastic bag from him but he pulls it out of reach, looking down at you in disapproval.

“What?”

“This is Kildare’s finest bud,” JJ scorns. He gently places it in your hand. Cupping your fingers around it, he envelopes your hand with his. His touch is warm. “You gotta treat it with care. It’s the meaning of life itself.”

“I thought the meaning of life was enlightenment,” you mumble, distracted. You’re pretty sure your heart might beat out of your chest.

“Meh. Depends who you ask.”

He takes his hand off yours and let’s you open the bag. The smell of marijuana hits, full force. Before you go to mix it in, you need to check the brownie base is up to scratch. You’ve been perfecting your recipe for years. Dipping in a finger, you suck it clean, debating the flavour. Unsure, you grab for the spatula and scoop some batter up, holding it out to JJ without thinking. You’re a little surprised to catch him staring at you.

“Wanna try?”

For once, JJ doesn’t say anything. Just takes the spatula and has a lick. His eyes widen. “Oh my god. That’s so good.”

“It’s alright.”

“It’s amazing.”

“I’ve made better,” you find yourself saying, and maybe he has a point about the whole compliments’ thing…

You tip in some of the bud as JJ finishes licking the spatula clean.

“You’re like a triple thread, aren’t you?” JJ says.

As you mix, moving to prop the bowl against your waist, cradled in your arm, you frown.

“A triple thread?”

Listing with the spatula, he says, “She can bake, she can sing—”

“—she’s socially inept,” you sarcastically finish.

“You’re not socially inept,” JJ says. When he dips the spatula back in for a second taste, you don’t bother fighting back. “Just a little quiet, is all.”

“No, no, I’m like a lost cause,” you chuckle. “I’m fine with it, for the most part. I just don’t like not knowing what people are gonna ask me. I get all nervous, thinking I’m gonna make a fool of myself or something. It all just snowballs until it’s easier to just…not try.”

JJ nods, listening, licking the plastic utensil clean.

“Well, I don’t know. Maybe it’s good that you’re a quiet person. Helps balance out the world,” he offers.

“How’d you mean?”

“Like, I’m one end of the spectrum, yeah?” He gestures wildly to one side of the kitchen. “And then you’re the other.”

His theatrics create an imaginary continuum. He lists his friends, labelling them on this make-believe spectrum, doing it in such a way that has you laughing at his antics.

“Think people sometimes forget being quiet isn’t the same as being boring,” JJ thinks aloud.

You smile. It’s a nice way to summarise it. You’re not a rock: you enjoy spending time with friends and you have hobbies and interests. When you feel in control of the situation, you can even tolerate crowds. But when you don’t speak a lot, loiter around at parties or keggers, and get nervous to read in front of a class, people make an assumption that you’re dull. There’s not much coming out of your mouth so there can’t be much going on in your head. It’s almost a relief to hear from JJ, of all people, that not everybody thinks that way. Makes your heart do funny things, as if he didn’t already have enough power over your emotions.

JJ leans in to take one more scoop from the bowl. As he does, his shirt slips forward enough for you to catch a glimpse of a hickey on his collarbone. Fresh purple, not yet bruising. It hurts more than you expect it to. A clear-cut reminder of who he is, and who you’re not, and who you never will be. That JJ sees you nothing more than a friend – Kie’s friend – and that he’d never look your way because���Well, because why would he?

You distract yourself by looking back down into the bowl, continuing to mix.

The two of you finish preparing the brownies and set them to cook in the oven. As you wait, you sit on the opposite counter to him, falling into a conversation about surfing and snacks. He’s fighting for justice for peanut-butter jelly sandwiches whilst you’re battling for the recognition of Nutella sandwiches. It’s easy and comfortable, and as the sun slips into view through the window – its rays chasing up the floorboards – the brownies cook and cool, and you do your best to enjoy the moment and not think about the hickey on his chest.

~*~*~*~*~*

Now that summer had begun and school had ended, it felt the days stretched on for miles. Light mornings and lighter nights. Good weather near daily. The odd hurricane warning and occasional storm to give the water a drink, and then back to beauty. You decided not to waste a minute of it. Most days were spent with you band, writing songs and practising for gigs. Pansy was constantly on the search for new shows and venues that would let you play. Kiara’s parents were already talking about letting you guys do another gig at The Wreck. Benny had taken it on to try and teach you how to play the drums, even though it was halfway hopeless. It meant that you’d been hanging out at his house a lot more. You didn’t mind; liked his company.

Kiara had you hanging out with the Pogues near daily too. You’d become a regular at the chateau, with Pansy sometimes tagging along, and had felt more and more comfortable around all the guys. Especially JJ. Whatever awkwardness that used to linger between the two of you had mostly vanished. He didn’t seem to hold back anymore; being his usual, effervescent self. ‘Young, dumb and broke’, Kie dubbed him.

“Hey, are you listening?” Benny asks you from behind the drum kit.

You look up from your phone, having read a text from Kie. We’ll be at Benny’s in five minutes.

“Just replying to Kie,” you tell him. “I’m going surfing with the Pogues.”

“Surfing? Since when did you like surfing?”

“Since this summer,” you shrug, pocketing your phone. You get up from your spot on the floor and walk around the drum kit, standing by his side.

Benny practised in his garage. His dad had soundproofed the place. Today was a hot one, leaving you no choice but to open the front shutter. The picture-book street he lived on was mostly empty, asides from the odd couples walking their dog or a kid flashing by on their bicycle.

You glance down at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Play it again?”

He smiles up at you and begins to play a beat, lips flattening in concentration. You smile as you watch him play. Some people are born musicians. They have a gift to find rhythm, can escape within it. Benny was one of those people. For someone so quiet, you found it funny how he settled on choosing the loudest instrument.

You nod your head to the beat. Shouting over the kick-drum, you say, “it sounds good! Think Pansy’ll find a good riff for it?”

“I’m more excited to hear your lyrics,” he loudly returns.

Coming up with lyrics hadn’t been any problem as of late. Your inspiration had never been more fruitful, for good and for bad, all thanks to a certain blonde haired boy.

He finished the repetitive rhythm, ending with the hi-hat. As he looks up at you, shaking his ginger hair off his damp forehead, he smiles.

“Your hair looks pretty today,” he tells you.

You take your hand from off his shoulder to touch at it, as if on reflex. “It does?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh. Thanks,” you say, smiling. “You don’t look to bad yourself, for it being like one-hundred degrees outside.”

Benny’s cheeks shine pink. He looks down at the drum kit in thought. “You wanna give it a try?”

“The drums?”

“Mhm.”

“I thought we’d learnt by now that me and drums don’t mix,” you laugh, shaking your head.

Benny won’t seem to take no for an answer, shoving the sticks into your hands. “Just, give it a try. You’re good at everything.”

“Not true,” you sing-song, but oblige in taking his seat.

Joking around, you tap a beat above your head on the sticks, counting yourself in like a rockstar. Then, you’re stumbling through a simple beat, laughing at your frequent mistakes. Benny’s smiling at you – you can see it in your peripheral – and nodding along as if you’re playing like a pro.

“Yo! Didn’t know Travis Barker lives here?”

At the sound of JJ’s shout, you stop and look up, laughing.

“Yeah. The Kardashian’s are just across the street,” you joke along. Benny comes to stand behind you as the rest of the Pogues walk into the garage.

“I’d believe it. Anything’s possible in Kook land,” John B shrugs.

Pope’s sauntering behind. “You ready to go surfing?”

“Yeah. Just need to grab my bag from the kitchen,” you say.

There’s the sudden feel of Benny’s hands on your shoulders, squeezing gently. He brushes some of your hair off one of them as he replies. “I’ll go grab it for you.”

Blinking away the surprise, you turn to catch a glimpse of the boy’s back as he darts into the house. That was weird.

Kiara starts talking about the waves they’ve already spotted. You move to stand, looking back to the Pogues to see that JJ’s staring at the door that Benny just went through. His hands are in his short pockets, jaw locked tight, as if he’s annoyed. That makes two weird things.

Walking over to your friends, laughing under breath at a joke John B makes, you nudge your shoulder against JJ’s bicep, hoping to lighten his mood. He looks down at you and smiles, tension somewhat fading. Benny returns with your bag, handing it to you, and you give him a wave farewell. Then, yourself and the Pogues are heading out the garage and into the banged-up Twinkie.

By the time you get to the beach, it’s late afternoon. Sunset is beginning to creep, teasing at the earth by patterning the sky with pink and orange. That doesn’t put the five of you off surfing. Instead, it’s like it spurs you on. Paddling out deeper into the waves, you hear Kiara give a small ‘whoop’ as you all turn to watch John B ride on the water. The rest of you are quick to join. You know how to surf; learnt when you were a kid. Having never had many friends, you didn’t surf all that often. But after meeting Kie – an avid surfer – and now hanging out with the Pogues, you found yourself out on the water more and more.

After an hour or so of surfing, the sky nearing dusk, you and JJ take a moment. JJ sits on his board, floating near you. You look down at your legs, kicking back and forth leisurely in the water.

“You have fun at Benny’s?” JJ asks.

You glance over to him. He’s watching the Pogues surf.

“I guess,” you shrug. “We’re working on some new stuff.”

JJ nods. His wet hair makes the highlights of blonde darker, curling slightly at the ends from the sea salt. It hangs shaggy over his face. Bare back, muscles taught, freckle-kissed from being out all day.

“Why are you acting all weird?” you can’t help but ask.

He looks to you. “I’m not acting weird.”

“Yes, you kinda are.”

“I’m not.”

“JJ, things haven’t been weird with us since the party. I don’t want them to go back to how they were before.”

“It’s not weird!”

“Look, if I did something—”

“You didn’t do anything, alright? It’s all good,” JJ insists. He nods at you, affirmingly, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s lying.

You sigh and lay on your back on the board. Closing your eyes, you bask in the remnants of sunlight. If he doesn’t want to talk, you won’t force it. You know more than anyone how awful it feels to have words forced out of you.

The moment of bliss is interrupted by the feeling of cold, seawater splashing over you. You gasp, sitting up in shock. JJ’s laughing his ass off, hands on his chest. You glare through a smile and shake your head.

“Oh, you’re in for it, Maybank.”

His laughter doesn’t cease. He’s looking to you again, quirking a brow. “Oh, am I?”

“Uh huh,” you grin. You kick a splash at him, barely making enough to cover his legs.

“That was pitiful.”

“Shut up,” you chide.

“You Kooks can’t do anything right.”

With that, you’re jumping off your board and swimming over to his. He doesn’t have time to paddle away. You come to a stop by the side of his board and splash at him from up close, getting him perfectly in the face. He winces, laughing, spluttering out some water that seeps into his mouth.

“That’s cheating!”

You roll your eyes and grin, hoisting yourself onto his board. He starts to protest through his laughs, moving to wrestle you off, and in the process, you end up pulling him into the water with you. The two of you emerge, laughing, drenched like drowned rats. You brush your hair out of your face and wipe the water out of your eyes. When you open them, blinking past the sting of the salt, JJ’s watching you. There’s a strange look on his face, one that you think you might’ve seen before. The longer you look at him, the shadow of a smile resting comfortably on your sun-kissed cheeks, the easier you find to place it. From the gig, during the last song, when he seemed almost absent in thought.

Before you can dwell much longer, JJ seems to snap himself out of his haze. He shakes his hair of the water and pulls himself back onto his board.

“We should probably start heading back to shore,” he says.

That was weird.

You frown but don’t argue. Returning to your board, you listen as JJ hollers that the two of you are heading back to land, and then you both start to paddle. The gang soon follows. Wading out the water, carrying your board, the five of you head to where you’d dumped your stuff. JJ makes quick work of building a fire. Pope and Kiara dip into the snacks and drinks you’d brought, passing them around. You dig about in one of the bags for some water, instead coming out with a Uke. The stickers on it hint at it being Kie’s. Hanging onto it, you look around and decide to take the empty spot on the sand next to JJ. The water from your wet hair dribbles down your back. In the embers, you feel yourself beginning to dry.

JJ hands you a cider, taking the cap off using the pocketknife you bought him. You have a sip.  

“That was a pretty good surf,” Kie says, leaning back on her forearms.

Pope’s taken out his book, using his hoodie as a makeshift pillow to sit against as he reads.

“Just think tomorrow, we get to do it all again,” John B grins.

Kie clinks the neck of her bottle with his. “Here’s to that.”

Sand working as a makeshift bottle holder, you’ve taken to picking out random notes on the uke, absentmindedly tuning it.

“What you up to tomorrow?” JJ asks.

You look up at him. He’s put his cap back on; a green one, worn around the edges of the beak.

“Chilling out at home and practising, I think. Pansy managed to get us a gig at the June-Jam.”

“Wait, isn’t that kinda a big deal?” Kiara says. She must’ve been eavesdropping.

You shrug. “It’s only a fifteen-minute slot.”

“But the June-Jam Fair?”

“Yeah, folks from all over the county come out for that,” John B agrees, smiling.

“My dad’s setting up a shop there,” Pope tells you, looking up from his book. “If you guys need a snack, he’ll hook you up for free.”

“Thanks,” you smile, grateful.

“When is it?”

“Couple weeks’ time.”

“We’re coming,” Kiara declares. You chuckle, flustered and flattered at once.

“You don’t have to.”

“Well, we are, so…”

“You gonna play any of the new stuff you’ve been working on?” JJ wonders.

“Maybe,” you say. Fingers still chipping away at the strings, you shrug. “Got a few ideas that’re coming together.”

“Gonna play my favourite?”

“Of course,” you say. Rear view. He’d mentioned several times since hanging out with you how much he liked that song.

JJ sighs and moves to rest his head on your thighs. You don’t complain. Feel your heart stammer at having him so near, so comfortable in your presence. He takes his pocketknife out and begins to mess with it. The campfire light reflects off the blade as it zips in and out of sight.

John B and Kie have fallen into a conversation of their own and Pope is lost to the world of fiction.

“Why’d you like that song so much? I’ve written better ones,” you ask JJ.

He shrugs. Tips his cap over his face, as if taking a nap. “Just makes me think of things. I like the lyrics.”

“What kinda things?”

“Family things, maybe? Maybe not,” JJ vaguely replies. You hum, nodding.

You stare at the crackling fire. Small sheds of burnt up wood spit off into the air, fading away like dust, hiding into the smoke. There’s the cosy smell it churns up, tinted with the sea water that’s coated your skin. The rustle of movement has you looking back down to JJ, watching him retrieve a blunt and his lighter. He sighs. Balancing the joint between his lips, he flicks the lighter to life. On the metal of it is his carved initials. JJ. As you watch him take a drag, overcome with the smell of weed, you wonder how your life lined up in a way to end up here. Fifth grade you would have a fit if she knew you were hanging out with JJ Maybank. Hell, current you isn’t far off doing the same.

He's so effortlessly pretty. Maybe it’s because he has an aura about him that he doesn’t care what people think. Self-assured and light – all that you envy. There’s the faded colouring of a bruise on the apple of his cheek from a scruff he got into at a kegger the other night. The thought of the kegger that you didn’t attend makes your head stammer.

It seems whenever you let yourself fade into the fantasies of wondering what it might be like to have JJ as more than a friend (if he were to ever lean that way towards you), reality always finds a way to sink in. The reality that JJ is the loudest example of an extrovert, and you the spitting image of an introvert. He can pull chicks any time he wants, practically just has to look at them to have them swoon. Lies as if it’s second nature and strikes up conversations with strangers as though they’re lifelong friends. Crowds don’t make him uneasy and he can glide through a house party without needing to hide in the bathroom during a meltdown. He’s funny and charming and likeable.

But you? You spend your evenings sat in your room or on the porch, song writing, living in the safety of a daydream. Baking into the early hours of the morning and socialising with a select few individuals who had the patience to get to know you. Quiet and simple and boring. What the hell would JJ want with that?

Sighing, you hear yourself strumming out a melody. It seems to have naturally emerged from trial and error of messing with notes. You look down to watch your fingers work. There’s a melancholic undertone to the tune you’ve found, different to the one Pansy had shown you on the guitar, when the song had started to form.

Kiara and John B’s conversation momentarily dwindles at the sound of your playing. You try not to be discouraged, knowing they don’t mind the disturbance. JJ takes another hit of the bud, blowing it out and up into the air. After the chorus, you let the music fade away; the song’s only half-finished.

“That new?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding. You’re looking at the stickers: Animal Rights in a pink, cartoon love heart…

“You’ve got the prettiest voice,” JJ quietly tells you. So quiet, you’re not entirely sure he did say it, or if you’ve contorted the murmurs of John B and Kie’s conversation, and the crackles of the fire, and the slosh of the waves, into something of a fantasy.

But, when you look down to him, he’s got this vacant smile on his face. “I’m real glad Kie introduced us.”

“Me too,” you smile.

Under his gaze, you feel how you imagine flowers do when the sun allows them to bloom. It’s a blissful rarity, to be affected by someone in such a way. Overwhelming, even. You force yourself to look away, towards the fire.

It hurts too much to stare at something you can’t have.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The June-Jam Fair comes around faster than you expect. It’s like being caught off guard like a lorry switching lanes without indicating. You only feel half prepared when you and the band are loading up Benny’s dad’s van.

“Who packed the back-up wires?” Pansy worries.

“I did,” Mike grunts, lifting one of the amps into the hold.

“Microphone stand?”

“Got it,” you say, sliding in a box of electronics.

“Okay, then, I think that’s everything,” she mumbles.

She’s spent the last ten minutes running through a mental list of every piece of musical equipment to ever exist. You wouldn’t be surprised if on the way to the fair, she starts listing off all the ways the show could go wrong (though that does seem more Benny’s style): guitar string breaking; microphone stops working; nuclear strike…

It’s hard to believe that the gig at The Wreck was three months ago, now. You’d spent the majority of the previous months hanging out with the Pogues, finding it hard to fathom how you killed the hours before knowing them.

As the four of you load into the van, with you and Benny in the front, Mike takes control of the aux. As him and Pansy sing along, venting out their pre-show nerves, you strike up conversation with the ginger haired boy. He’s been quiet – quieter than usual – with his fingers tapping on the steering wheel, a drummer’s habit.  

“I feel like I haven’t spoken to you in ages,” you half-laugh, somewhat awkward. “Summer’s going so fast.”

“Well, you dip at the end of nearly every band practise to hang out with your new friends, so,” Benny grumbles.

He seems mad about it, more than you expected him to be.

“I don’t ‘dip’, I just head-out,” you say.

“Yeah. All the time,” Benny mumbles.

Frowning, you say sincerely, “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was bothering you guys so much. I just like hanging out with the Pogues. They’re fun.”

Benny sighs, shaking his head. “No, it’s cool. It’s just…I just missing having you around, is all.”

“But, I am around. I still come to band practise. Hell, we all got breakfast the other day.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, shaking his head once more. “It doesn’t matter.”

“If it’s messing with our friendship then it does matter, Benny,” you say.

You see him debate whether to expand or not. In the end, he does. As he speaks, he looks at you.

“I miss me and you hanging out, is what I mean.”

Your lips part. Oh. “Well, we can still do that.”

“We can?”

“Yeah, of course,” you smile. “How about tomorrow we go for food or something?”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Why not tonight?” he wonders, looking back to the road.

“I’m hanging out with the Pogues tonight,” you say, apologetically. “JJ and Kie and everyone.”

“JJ,” Benny repeats. He says it under breath, in a scoff, like he didn’t mean to let it slip.

You frown. “What? Don’t you like him?”

“No, yeah, he’s…He’s a character,” Benny settles on, giving you the briefest of looks as he replies. “I just don’t see why he’d wanna hang around with you so much.”

You try and ignore the sting of his words, digging into your chest like the horn of a thistle. “What’d you mean?”

“You two barely have anything in common. I just find it kinda weird how you get along so well,” Benny explains. His voice is always gentle, soft and non-demanding, but somehow it doesn’t lessen the blow. “You talk about him all the time. All the dumb shit you get up to. Not to mention how much weed you’ve been smoking with him. Just find it weird how you’re suddenly the type of person who gets along with JJ Maybank.”

“Well, I just…am,” you say, shrugging. Off put from the conversation, you look out the passenger window.

“I know you like him.”

Crap. Your stomach flips. “No, I don’t.”

“Of course you do,” Benny says, laughing. “Who doesn’t? He’s an attractive guy, I’m not stupid. He’s an adrenaline junky and a bad-boy, and everybody loves a bad-boy, don’t they?”

“He’s not a ‘bad-boy’, Benny. Sides, who actually says that, outside of the movies?” you add, hoping to recover the exchange into something light.

“He’s trouble, is what he is,” Benny tells you. His voice is firm and definitive. The way he says it makes you think back to the fishing shop, and how the cashier was watching JJ like a hawk.

“He’s not trouble,” you reply, trying not to keep your tone softer. “He’s nice.”

“Nice,” Benny scoffs. Licking his teeth, he nods, staring ahead at the road. “Sure. Whatever you need to tell yourself.”

The foul taste from the conversation with Benny doesn’t ease up for the rest of the journey. It lingers in your throat as you set-up on stage and comes back, full force, when the Pogues come over to greet you. Wish you luck for the show. The rough feeling of JJ’s knuckles, and the cold press of his rings, when you fist bump him. How he knows that you don’t like to hug before shows, with your anxiety sky-high. As you sing through the songs, talk to the crowd, work through the nerves that never fully fade, you find yourself looking to JJ more and more. Whenever you do, there’s Benny’s voice in the back of your head, almost judgemental as he repeats the mantra: ‘I just don’t see why he’d wanna hang around with you so much.’

Was he right? Does JJ just like seeing how he can make you nervous? Enjoys watching you squirm and fumble through social interactions, wade through his compliments as gracefully as a paralysed ballet dancer?

No, he’s not mean. He’s kind and he’s soft with you, but not in a way that makes you feel like you’re made of glass. He knows how to joke with you, how to get a laugh from you. Knows how far to push and when to pull back. JJ knows you. He’s your friend. He wants to be your friend. Doesn’t he?

Or did Kie talk to him, after all? He’d said how she’d told him you were quiet before the gig at The Wreck, as if warning him off. After the party, how do you know that she didn’t hunt him down before he bumped into you in the bathroom? That she told him about your pathetic school-girl crush, and it bolstered his ego, and he found himself trapped in this awkward thing of having to be friends with the weird, quiet girl who has an unattainable crush on him…

As your overthinking goes to hell quicker than a penny falling from the Empire State Building, you manage to keep up with the songs and belt out the lyrics. You can’t bring yourself to look at JJ when you conclude on Rear View. Have to close your eyes. The lyrics sting a bit too much. More than they usually do.

The Pogues are waiting at the end of the show.

“That was dope, you guys! Everyone loved it!” Kiara buzzes, high-fiving Pansy.

“Might be our best show yet,” Mike agrees, nodding. He’s packing away his bass.

“We’re gonna head off in about ten minutes or so,” Kie says.

“Pope’s meeting us at the Chateau later. His dad roped him into helping out,” John B tells you.

“You guys are coming right?” Kie asks the four of you.

Mike looks up from his spot near the amp, unplugging wires. “I’m gonna pass. Got a date.”

“You’ve got a date?” Pansy gapes.

“Yeah?”

“With who?”

“This chick I met at your birthday party,” he shrugs. You have a vague memory of seeing him talking to a girl, before you went up to him that night.

“Why are you so secretive, Mike? What other second-lives are you leading?” Pansy teases.

Mike rolls his eyes, giving a covert smiling. “They die with me. I’ll see y’all later.”

As he waves farewell and walks away, Pansy shakes her head, almost impressed. “God bless that weird, strange man.”

“So that leaves three?” John B checks, pointing to you three.

You still haven’t looked at JJ. Pansy answers on your behalf. “Well, us two definitely are. Benny?”

“I’ll pass. I’ve got a curfew,” Benny says.

“Most Kook thing I’ve ever heard,” JJ sniggers.

“Yeah? Well, I’m sure it’s nice having parents who don’t give a shit,” Benny replies sharply.

You frown. Looking to Benny, your eyes are narrowed in confusion.

JJ frowns too, only for different reasons. Staring him down, he stands a head higher.

“What’d you say, princess?”

“Look, man, I’m sorry your dad’s a criminal but I don’t see what that’s gotta do with me.”

JJ’s jaw goes rigid. His body tenses. Anger comes over him suddenly like a hurricane. He takes a step forward, gladly getting in Benny’s face. JJ’s taller, broader, stronger. Benny’s hours spent playing the drums don’t stand a chance in a round with him.

“You wanna say that again, Kook?”

“Guys, come on,” Kie says, trying to step between them.

“You like messing with her, huh? You having fun with it? Like having her gawking after you?” Benny bites back.

His eyes flit to you as he talks. Your heart fractures.

JJ shoves him on the chest. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, man.”

“I know who you are, JJ. Everybody does. You don’t fool me, with this whole good-guy act you’ve got going on with her. You’re messing her up. Getting her to do drugs with you and shit? You’re gonna end up hurting her, like you hurt everybody else. Just what you Pogues do.”

“Benny, what the hell?” you whisper.

JJ isn’t as silent in his anger. He swings a punch, knocking Benny straight in the cheek, sending him backwards against the stage. Some stranger from the fair exclaims when they catch sight. John B immediately steps in between. JJ is reluctant to backdown, standing over Benny, urging him to fight back. When Benny goes to do retaliate, you come to your senses and step up. You grab for his wrist before he can throw his punch.

“Don’t be an idiot, Benny,” you snap.

His eyes flash to you. Something behind them seems to break. He hides it with anger. “You’re taking his side?”

“I’m not taking anybody’s side,” you say, annoyed. “This is pathetic. Both of you.”

As you talk, you let your eyes glance to JJ. He’s breathing heavy, still pissed, but takes a step back at your disapproval.

“We’re at a Goddamn family fair. Both of you need to get your shit together,” you tell them sharply.

You let go of Benny’s wrist and walk off, heart beating out your chest. You hate confrontation. Hate when people fight.

Kiara and Pansy come after you, both of them bitching about how useless boys are. You fold your arms across your chest and blink back tears. No matter what emotion you experience, it always seems to resolve with waterworks. It’s then, as you think back to the altercation, that you hardly recognise the memory of Benny in that moment. It’s so disappointing when you see who people for who they truly are, beneath all the personas, only for them to end up being fickle and fake.

Your feet carry you to the back-ends of the fair, lit up by the remnants of daylight. It’s nothing but storage containers, vans and trucks, the odd horse and animal box from the farm-show. You take perch on the step of one of the empty caravans. Pansy and Kiara sit beside you, the former coiling her arms around you in a hug. You place your head in your hands and let out a few tears. There’s no point fighting them off.

“JJ is so stupid sometimes,” Kie mutters.

“No kidding. And Benny? Pushing at him like that?”

“Asking for a fight.”

“Guys are so dumb,” Pansy concludes with a sigh, shaking her head.

You sit up and wipe your cheeks.

“Where’s your head at, hun?” she asks you, softly.

Shaking your head, you scoff. “I have no idea. I don’t understand why Benny would say things like that. Why he’d lash out at JJ like that, about me.”

“Well, it’s cause he likes you,” Pansy says plainly.

You shoot her a look of pure bewilderment. “What?”

“Girl, it’s so obvious,” she chuckles, sympathy in her gaze. “The guy practically follows after you like a love-sick puppy.”

“She’s right, you know? Even I can see it,” Kie confirms.

You look between the two of them. Benny? Seriously?

You’ve spent so much of your life alone, out of the minds of boys and girls, void of compliments, that you find it hard to believe anybody might have a thing for you. Least of all, Benny. Sweet, quiet, unassuming Benny. Well, until tonight, that is.

But come to think…The last few months, he’s been weird. The random compliments he’s been dropping, when he never used to before. That time in the garage, when he messed with your hair and put his hands on your shoulders. The car ride today, disapproving of JJ.

“I know you like him.”

The penny drops.

“He’s…jealous?” you whisper.

“No duh, dumbass,” Kiara mutters.

“But- Wait, of what?”

Your life feels as though it has suddenly become a teenage rom-com after being nothing but years of a podcast of white-noise a person could fall asleep.

“Of JJ,” Kie answers, as if it’s obvious.

“Why in the hell would he be jealous of JJ?”

A look gets shared between Pansy and Kiara.

“Because JJ has a thing for you too…”

“JJ does not have a thing for me,” you snort. “He doesn’t have a thing for me, alright? You guys are way off.”

“Hun—”

“No, he doesn’t, alright?” you can’t help but snap at Kie. The emotions of the last few months are bubbling inside of you. More tears well up. “Why would he? I’m awkward, and I’m useless, and I’m desperate, and I’ve been in love with him since I was a kid and have never done anything about it! I’m pathetic! And he’s���Well, he’s him. He’s funny and charming and fucking gorgeous and…And I’m just me.”

Pansy and Kiara are staring at you with eyes full of pity. They don’t speak, but Kiara grabs at your hand and squeezes it tight.

"Don’t ever talk about yourself like that,” she tells you in a voice that’s firm but sweet, like cookie dough.

“I’ll slap you if you say anything like that again,” Pansy not-so-delicately doubles.

You laugh through your tears at that. Wiping your face, sighing, you look down at the ground.

“I…I think you should really talk to JJ,” Kiara offers. “You can say whatever you want, but I see how he is around you. He’s never like that, with anyone. You bring out a different side of him, and I mean that in the best way.”

“She’s right,” Pansy nods, nudging your shoulder. “I was looking at him through the set, and he had his eyes glued on you.”

“I’m the singer,” you sigh in disagreement.

“Yeah, but I’m the most talented one up there,” Pansy replies, as if it’s obvious. You laugh at her antics. “Everyone should be looking at me.”

Looking to your two friends, you can’t help but feel a swell of gratefulness for having them stick by you. Nodding, you sniff away the last few tears.

“I wanna talk to JJ,” you tell them.

“Perfect,” Kiara says. “He’ll probably be at the chateau. I’ll give you a lift.”

Doing as she says she will, Kie drops you off at the Chateau on her drive home. As you climb out the car, Pansy sticks her head out the back window.

“You sure you wanna go on your own?” she double-checks.

You smile at her. She’s a good friend.

“Yeah, I’m good,” you nod.

She smiles back. “Alright. Now, remember: you’re hot, you’re talented, and you’re a catch-twenty-two.”

“Got it,” you say with a laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Good,” Pansy nods. Mission accomplished. “Go get ‘em.”

You wave farewell to Kie as she pulls back out the driveway and onto the road. The moment the car’s gone, you’re abandoned in darkness. A few birds are giving their final caws of the day, settling down for the night. Crickets and night critters merge with the distant lapping of the water of the marsh. Sighing, you wrap your jumper tighter around yourself in a hug and walk towards the back garden. You’re hoping JJ’s here. Kiara said he should be.

As you round the side of the house, you make out the hammock. It’s swaying lightly. There’s a foot extended out of it, heel of a boot dug into the ground, causing it to rock. The faint puff of smoke that blows up makes you certain it’s him.

“JJ?”

The rocking stops.

You walk a bit closer until you’re in his line of sight. He’s looking down at his hands, one of which is messing with his pocketknife as the other cradles a joint.

“Hey,” you quietly say.

“Hey,” he mumbles. His cap is tilted down, concealing his face slightly.

“How’s your hand?” you ask.

He glances to it. Nods. “It’s fine.”

Nodding, you shift your weight from one foot to the other. “Can I join you?”

He stops fiddling with the knife. There’s an awkward pause before he nods, shifting so you can climb onto the hammock. You take a spot by his feet. He uses his foot as an anchor to steady the sway.

“Did you like the set?”

“Mhm.”

“I played one of the new ones,” you say. He nods, feigning disinterest.

“It was nice,” he says. “Benny help you write it?”

You sigh. “Seriously, JJ?”

He looks up at that. Eyes dazzling in the moonlight. “What?”

“Did you have to hit him?”

“The guy was asking for it, alright? You heard what he said to me, didn’t you?” JJ defends, sitting up.

 “Of course, I did. But you can’t just hit anybody who pisses you off.”

“You don’t get it, alright?”

“Sure I don’t,” you reply, sarcastic.

“No, you don’t,” he repeats, firmer. He pushes his cap back as he goes on, blunt momentarily abandoned. “You live in your little Kook world, ignorantly bliss to the shitshow that goes on around you.”

His words set off something inside of you.

“I’m not some stuck-up snob, JJ. Don’t treat me like I am. That’s not fair. Being a Kook and a Pogue has nothing to do with you picking a fight with Benny at the fair.”

JJ laughs, tossing his head back. He wipes a hand down his face. “Oh, you’re so stupid sometimes, you know that? It has everything to do with it!”

“How!? How does that make any sense?” you gape, sitting upright. You wave your arms around. “In what Pogue-Kook universe do you have to pick a fight with Benny? We’re just friends!”

“For someone so quiet, you sure don’t pay attention,” JJ insults, staring you in the eyes.

Your resolve slackens. “Don’t be mean, JJ.”

“According to your little boyfriend, that’s all I can be,” he mutters, looking back down to his pocketknife.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you sigh, exhausted. You rub at your forehead. “I don’t know where all that stuff came from, okay? He’s never acted like that before. I’m so embarrassed, and I’m so sorry he said all that to you, and he was way out of line. I don’t know why he did it.”

“I do! Everyone does! It’s obvious! The guy’s in love with you. He thought he was defending your honour or some shit,” JJ spits.

“He’s not in love with me,” you deny. Maybe he might have a crush on you, but in love? Come on now.

“Seriously? You seriously don’t see it?” JJ says, voice rising again.

You shrug, making a face as if to say ‘no, I really don’t’.

It seems to make him angry again.

“He follows you around all the time! He’s always watching you, alright? Always. He’s looking at you all the time. Complimenting you. Making little jokes, hoping that you’ll laugh. Finding any excuse to spend time with you. Like with that teaching-you-the-drums bullshit? What the hell was that? And don’t get me started on that little display he did in the garage that day! With the hands on the shoulders and stuff and grabbing your bag for you like a little pussy-whipped simp. Helping you out without you even asking for him too--”

“That’s your definition of love?” you practically shout, cutting him off with a scoff. “You do all of that!”

“Exactly!” JJ yells.

Silence.

JJ’s breathing heavy. You see the moment the words catch up. See his face drop into panic, then glaze over as if uninterested. Your mind’s racing, scrambling for purchase and muddling through interpretations…

But…there’s only one though. Right?

JJ looks out to the water. He takes a hit from his joint, almost desperate.

“JJ,” you whisper.

He shakes his head. Looks down at his joint as if it’s something to inspect. As if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. “Doesn’t matter, alright?”

“Yes, it does.”

“No-” his clipped tone is cut off with a sigh. You see him close his eyes. Collects himself. There’s a lingering quiet. A mosquito nips at your ankle but you can’t bring yourself to waft it away.

“You don’t know the effect you have on people, do you?” He asks you quietly. He opens his eyes to look out to the water. You’re not sure if you’re meant to answer. Before you can, he’s talking once more.

“Benny’s got almost everything in common with you, okay? He’s rich, he’s got a nice house, nice family. Goes to a good school. I bet he gets good grades, too. Talented. And he’s not the worst looking asshole, alright? So, yeah. It is a Kook-Pogue thing, alright?”

His eyes flit to you for a moment but he doesn’t let them linger. He looks back down to the pocketknife. His thumb dances over the wood of it.

“It was always gonna be a Kook-Pogue thing. The moment that I realised I liked you; I knew there was no chance. I mean, what the hell would you want with a guy like me?”

Oh.

There’s a strange, euphoric feeling that comes after JJ talks. You suddenly feel like you understand why you’ve always gotten along with JJ. It’s like you’ve been staring in a mirror this whole time. It’s then that that you realise that you’re not nervous anymore. That you haven’t been nervous in a while, whenever JJ’s around. That if you ever do feel anxious or unsure, finding his face, meeting his eyes, searching for his smile; it always brings you back. Suddenly, you don’t care about the differences; the small, insignificant things that really don’t matter, when you think about it, because as long as you’ve got JJ, you don’t care what happens.

He says Benny’s got more in common with you, but Benny doesn’t know about the panic attacks or how to ease you back from them. He doesn’t know how to make you laugh; not to the point where you feel your stomach might collapse and your ribs might break. His compliments don’t make you feel like there’s a shot of electricity running through you, quick and painless. With Benny, they’re just nice words, like when a cashier tells you to have a good day. Maybe he’s book smart and plays the drums well, but JJ could tell you anything you want to know about fishing: how, where, when. Mechanics and boats and handy-man tricks. Intelligence wasn’t one thing; it wasn’t just about being able to dissect a Shakespeare quote. And you could sit and listen to him talk all day. The cadence of his voice rising and falling like the tide of the water.

You’ve liked JJ since you were a kid. Since that stupid day on the marsh, when you were frog hunting, and you saw him on the rope swing. He was so funny. So bubbly and lively. Everything you wished you could be. And when he looked at you, through the bushes of the marsh, and smiled…that smile became every inspiration for every song you wrote. The thought in the back of your mind when you conjured up the lyrics. As he got older, he became more beautiful, twisting into the definition of an American heartthrob. Your lives stretched differently and you came to accept that liking him would be a pipedream. Something you could live in your fictional songs. But then came Kiara, and The Wreck, and everything else, and it all lined up so nicely. It was as if an invisible string was tied around your wrist the first day you saw him, guiding you to now.  

Right now.

You shift onto your knees and move up the hammock until you’re face to face with JJ. Before either of you has time to think, you’re cupping his jaw and guiding his lips to yours. Under the unsteady purchase of the hammock, you move your free hand to his chest for balance. It’s hard and sturdy. Once the shock slips away, JJ’s kissing you back. One of his hands comes to your face, swiping across your cheek and pushing back some of your hair that’s fallen into your face. His other comes to sit on your waist. Squeezes your skin softly, as if checking that you’re real: joint and pocketknife abandoned. A feeling zips through your body, right down to your toes. It’s indescribable. It’s sweet and mercurial and…it’s JJ. It’s all JJ.

When you pull back, you’re smiling.

JJ’s eyes open slowly. A smile is blooming on his face too, cheeks pink, lips still parted, damp from your touch.

“Okay,” he whispers.

You giggle, biting your lower lip. “Okay?”

“Not what I was expecting,” he admits with a small laugh.

You can’t help but kiss him again, wanting to taste his laughs. He gladly pulls you closer, shifting you so you’re straddling his waist. The more you kiss, the more he eases into touching you, the more you relax into kissing him. Finding a rhythm and a pattern that has the two of you short of breath.

Breaking apart once more, JJ stares at you as if in a trance. The same look from The Wreck and from the ocean. You recognise what it is now.

He strokes a finger across your cheek and you lean into the touch of his palm. Makes him smile brighter.  

“You gonna write a song about me now?” he quietly jokes. His eyes flick down to your lips.

You smile, laugh almost silently as you shake your head. Before leaning down to kiss him again, you confess your only remaining secret to him in a whisper.

“They’re already about you. Every single one of them.”

[natalyarose]

𝓛𝓾𝓷𝓪𝓻 𝓝𝓪𝓴𝓼𝓱𝓪𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓼 - 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓭 𝓯𝓮𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓺𝓾𝓮 🌙

Originally, I was going to do a short write-up on one character who's Nakshatras made sense to me, but this turned into an extensive piece on the mystical, mysterious nature of Moon ruled Nakshatras lol. I hope this is enjoyed & without further ado, ima delve into this. 💕

Now to put it plainly, Moon ruled Nakshatras are lunatics. I'm allowed to say it lol, but seriously. Lu-na-tics. but that's okay! In fact, it's great; a bit of lunacy is an asset in art & anything that requires outside of the box thinking. The Moon is often associated with purity; but in a sense to be pure is to welcome any and all whims & emotions without judgement.

Running into the wild ocean at 3am solely because you felt like it? Okay! (my Shravana stellium mum lol), frolicking in the woods with no rhyme or reason? Sure! Making daisy chains and thinking about chai lattes lol (Moon = milk, lunar people often love milk drinks) instead of focusing on your assignment? Yup. Dating some guy who's known to be trouble because you 'feel there's something more to him'? Mm..

The Moon rules over all that is mystical, whereas Mercury rules over the cerebral realm. This is why Ashlesha tends to be a very mystical Nakshatra- it's placed within Cancer (Moon ruled) but is a Mercurial Lunar Mansion. In Ashlesha, there is a union between unexplainable intuition & sharp intellect. It is said that Ashlesha natives if they apply their focus correctly, would be the first to uncover the secrets of our world.

The Moon is a blank canvas; readily available for anybody to project their energy onto. Moon seldom clings to an identity or persona, it just 'is'.

in Rohini, there is this sense of 'nakedness' & a lot of vulnerability. Themes of unbridled imagination, sensitivity, pleasure seeking & creativity come through, and there is a lack of boundaries being lunar yet co-ruled by Venus; a planet pertaining to relationships. Rohini really needs some form of external structure, but at the same time thrives on lunar fluctuation and instability. It is why the creativity in Rohini is so immense and there is constant growth.

In Hasta, we see the co-rulership of Mercury, being in Sidereal Virgo. Hasta is where the Moon realises that it is not always safe to be completely receptive and vulnerable, therefore becomes shrewd and learns to be a little more pragmatic & purposeful in the way they express themselves. For this reason, you'll find Hasta slightly less represented in this 'wild feminine' archetype exploration, though some Hasta natives still very much embody this energy. Hasta; similarly to Ashlesha focuses on being conservative & logical in the face of internal lunar fluctuation.

In Shravana, we see lunar energy matured- the co-rulership of Saturn provides the structure, discipline and boundaries the Moon needs to thrive. I find that while Rohini is very maternal & associated with motherhood, I tend to see Shravana as THE mother. The stability Saturn provides makes for this ability to nurture & listen but still instil some sort of routine or restriction, which is necessary in motherhood. A friend of mine noticed that Saturn Nakshatras (think of Pushya, the other Moon-Saturn Nakshatra) are strongly represented in themes of motherhood due to the fact that children thrive when there is (gentle) but definitive limitation. Rohini's style of nurturing is very free form and full of sweetness & virtually zero judgement.

The beauty of lunar people really shows in how comfortable they are with change. I've noticed Moon ruled people retain their youth and tend to age very beautifully partially because they are so in tune with feminine cycles and are not as resistant to change. This isn't surprising as Moon is connected to the face & traditionally holds associations with fertility and youth. Moon Nakshatras embrace flow, embrace change, so they move into every phase of life with grace.

Random note: I've always suspected this but I just saw this on TikTok the other night to confirm- research shows that people who have a lot of pimples or oily skin, tend to age much better due to that extra oil. As mentioned, Moon rules the face & also relates to water- I've noticed & it has been written that people with prominent Moon influence will be more susceptible to acne & weight fluctuations due to the water/fluid connection. A lot of people who age remarkably well tend to have a Moon Nakshatra somewhere (and people who look older even from a young age are often Saturnian; Saturn Nakshatras falling opposite to Moon).

A lot of people mistake lunar individuals for being 'dumb' and ditzy, but there is a certain wisdom in the madness as you will find in the examples I'm using today :)

𝒜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝓎𝓈𝒾𝓈 𝑜𝓃 𝒜𝓊𝓃𝓉 𝐸𝓁𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒷𝑒𝓉𝒽, '𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒢𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉' - 𝑅𝑜𝒽𝒾𝓃𝒾 𝒮𝓊𝓃, 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒𝓁𝓎 𝐻𝒶𝓈𝓉𝒶 𝑀𝑜𝑜𝓃

I watched 'The Great' a while back and I couldn't get over how strongly the actress; Belinda Bromilow portrayed Rohini energy! I looked up her chart after watching, & as per Galactic Center mid-mula ayanamsa she is indeed a Rohini Sun native, likely with Hasta Moon; only amplifying the lunar influence.

There are many reasons, but what really tipped me off was how as a character, despite being an 'older woman' she really comes across so youthful and full of this magical, fanciful zest for life. I also find her gorgeous!!

I ADORE her character, she is so funny & light without deviating from the overall intensity of the show.

In 'The Great', Aunt Elizabeth is this 'strange', mystical, offbeat woman with a lot of unconventional wisdom. She's a woman who talks to butterflies and other creatures, has all of these 'wacky' witch-esque remedies that work, and has no shortage of odd, seemingly random one liners that often veil deep metaphors.

She often would be seen in the show comforting the main characters & acting as a trusted, empathetic maternal figure/guide. Simultaneously, she was viewed as somewhat insane & often used that perception to her advantage (her Hasta Moon reflecting the calculated side of Moon). Her character is extremely loving, able to look past the faults of others and show softness and compassion to people considered 'unlovable'. One of her notable roles as a character being Peter's (the barbaric Emperor who reigns with cruelty's) aunt who was really more of a maternal figure to him than his real mother, who was cruel much like himself.

She's in a sense, everyone's comfort, the woman in everyone's ear (very Serpent yoni too).

Aunt Elizabeth doesn't condone or necessarily agree with Peter's evil actions, but she has this beautiful way of seeing the little boy in him and nurturing him no matter what (Rohini's combination of Moon & Venus creates a person who is capable of seeing the beauty in everything & everyone).

There is another strong plot point pertaining to her child who sadly drowned. I've noticed in media, Moon women tend to have strong plots related to their love for other people (children, spouses, etc.) not because they don't stand strong on their own, but because Moon women naturally devote to their loved ones.

Throughout the show, Aunt Elizabeth has this gentle persuasion that subtly influences the characters in profound ways. I've seen talk recently of Moon Nakshatras being manipulative, and in a way they most definitely are (for better or worse). The same way the Moon pulls on the tides & pulls the attention of humans & animals alike.

Hasta's more shrewd nature shows in Elizabeth's surprising ability to scheme and commit dark acts in order to achieve a bigger goal- even though the Rohini energy gives her this energy of being very kooky, 'off with the fairies' character.

Moon's manipulation can be very much this subtle, almost subliminal feminine influence. It reminds me of the saying, 'behind every powerful man is a woman'; meaning that a man who is powerful never stands alone. He never got there without the love, or at least the influence of a woman. Behind him there is a woman who nurtures him (be it his mother in childhood or his wife), subtly influences him, lifts his spirits, etc. Even if not, the fact of him even incarnating and being born in the first place is the work of a woman.

A memorable moment from the series that strikes me as very indicative of Moon Nakshatras tendency towards intense emotions & strong sensitivity is when Elizabeth is sitting in the carriage after witnessing the gruesome affects of the war in their region. She is eerily quiet on the trip home, until suddenly she calmly requests for the carriage to stop. She proceeds to get out of the carriage, and scream & thrash around intensely as catharsis for the pain & anger she felt for the horror she'd just witnessed. :(

More on Elizabeth, there is also this aspect of the story where she is a sort of nymphomaniac lol, having many lovers of any age/gender (Rohini doesn't discriminate lmao) and is forever tragically in love with her deceased lover Peter the Great (Peter's father). Peter the Great was a womaniser, but in a sense Elizabeth was his 'true love' which reminds me of Rohini's mythology being 'the favourite wife of the Moon'. He had many lovers and a great deal of power, but Elizabeth was the closest he had to a true love.

Elizabeth was shown multiple times to be very psychic- an example of this being her 'feeling it' & having a vision the moment Peter died.

In summary, this character is just such a glaring example of what an abundance of lunar energy manifests like (for better and for worse since she is a very multifaceted character). Speaking of which, the word 'multifaceted' in itself always makes me think of the Moon. The Moon has many faces/phases.

𝑀𝑜𝑜𝓃 𝒩𝒶𝓀𝓈𝒽𝒶𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽𝓎, 𝑀𝓎𝓈𝓉𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑜𝓇 '𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒶𝓃𝑔𝑒'

A lot of public figures who have a pronounced reputation for being 'witchy', strange or mysterious/disconcerting/charmingly bizarre will have a prominent Moon ruled Nakshatra in their chart. Lunar people can really embody the archetype of being 'insane' or random. but lovable all in the same.

Kate Bush, Shravana Moon (Ashlesha Sun) I may do an independent post on Kate Bush's placements, but she is such a staple example of Moon Nakshatras & the 'wild feminine' witchy, strange but beautiful energy. Her music & music videos are full of symbolism, often pulling inspiration from obscure ideas and stories. Some people find her a bit 'weird', especially men but just as many women and men alike adore her. Very mleccah (outcaste) Nakshatra vibes. People are either inexplicably drawn to her and enchanted, or find her 'creepy'. ~I'll note that Kate is extremely Mercury influenced too, hence the much rounder face than the examples you'll see. Moon people tend to have rounded faces, but they are typically a bit longer than Mercury and have very prominent cheekbones.

Stevie Nicks, Rohini Sun Stevie Nicks is always remarked to be a witch. She never explicitly said this, but upon the release of Fleetwood Mac's 'Rhiannon', (a very witch-y song about the Celtic Goddess herself) the witch allegations began lol. Other than that, Stevie Nicks & Fleetwood Mac have always been associated with the hippy/spiritual/witchy crowd.

Helena Bonham Carter, Rohini Sun Helena has been known to often play 'bizarre', witchy or macabre characters, known to work alongside Tim Burton (also a Rohini native) often. Some of these roles to note are her as the Queen of Hearts and Bellatrix Lestrange; but there are countless that speak to the lunar wild feminine archetype. Beyond that, Helena is known to have a very eccentric dress sense off screen, people often remarking that she has all this money yet chooses to still be herself and a little strange.

Alica Keys, Hasta Moon, Shravana Sun I can't think of any overtly 'witchy' or 'bizarre' associations for Alicia Keys, but I wanted to include her because I feel like her sweet emotive face and gorgeous flowing hair is very reflective of her Moon dominance. She has the 'vibe'. She's also mentioned that she has a spiritual practice in her everyday life & references the divine feminine.

James Marsden, Rohini Moon admittedly, I only know him in two movies, but in both he is playing this kinda bizarre, theatrical, childlike character very indicative of Rohini energy. In 'Enchanted' he is the dramatic, vibrant and endlessly cheerful fairytale prince who breaks into song whenever he gets the chance. In 'Hop' he is this uninspired guy who lives with his parents and can't seem to get a job or find purpose. That is until he meets the easter bunny who'd run away from 'Easter Island' and didn't want to be the easter bunny anymore. He then proceeded to become the easter bunny himself- lmao. If you know about Rohini's relationship with sweets & children (not to mention Rohini natives typically having prominent front teeth like a bunny) this movie is very on the nose.

Kylie Minogue, Rohini Sun & Pushya Asc an Aussie legend I say. Kylie is another one who always embodied this very lunar feminine mystique, she actually sort of reminds me of Marilyn Monroe (Rohini Sun) in some photos of her in her youth. The witchy, eerie, 'haunting' vibe Moon people can radiate really shines through in her enchanting murder ballad 'Where the Wild Roses Grow' with Nick Cave (a Magha native of course). A personal favourite of mine.

Teal Swan, Shravana Moon Teal Swan is a famous spiritual 'guru' who is known to have extrasensory abilities. She is a controversial figure due to strange behaviour in her past & questionable things in her personal life. Some disregard her as a narcissistic cult leader for these reasons, but in my opinion even if that were the case, two things can be true- someone can have ill intent with the knowledge they possess yet still genuinely possess that knowledge. I find a lot of her content incredibly helpful and intuitive. Credit to @makingspiritualityreal for my learning about this- you'll notice that a lot of individuals with strong Lunar influence in their chart will have very light, translucent looking eyes indicative of their receptive, psychic nature. Even if the eyes are brown, they still will have a notably 'light', reflective, soft, crystal-esque quality. We see this with all of these examples, but Teal especially.

Amber Heard, Hasta Moon I was struggling to think of Hasta examples that fit this archetype since as I mentioned earlier, Hasta places a huge emphasis on gaining control over their own lunar nature. In Hasta there is less of a tendency to be 'wild and free' the way we see in Rohini & Shravana. However, I still see in Amber Heard's infamy a different expression of the lunar witchy lunacy. A lot of people regard her nature as 'insane', overemotional, very manipulative, bewitching people with her beauty, etc. This being said, I know I've definitely seen witchy-ish Hasta natives, I just can't think of any as readily as I can the other Moon Nakshatras.

Alanis Morrisette, Rohini Sun Just another woman in music who radiates that lunar, wild feminine, raw emotional energy. If you listen to her song 'You Oughta Know' and see the emotionally chaotic, passionate music video, you'll absolutely see what I mean!

Tori Amos, Hasta Moon another witch-esque phenomenal alternative artist. I just remembered to include her!! She's perfect for this list. Listen to 'Cornflake Girl'. and once again you'll see the lunar, feminine energy. Shania Twain & Kate Winslet are two more Hasta natives I thought of who embody this energy, but I can't add anymore pics to the post :(

It's worth noting that Kate Bush, Tori Amos, Alanis Morissette and some other artists are often piled together and referred to as being similar in 'vibe'. Mysterious, feminine, emotional, mystical, etc. I'd venture to guess that other artists in the same sort of creative realm have Moon ruled Nakshatras.

I just thought of Bjork, another artist who is compared to ones mentioned. She is Swati Moon, with Rahu in Rohini as the lord of her Moon!

One last thing I want to mention, is I've noticed that Moon women can sometimes be viewed as 'anti feminist' by other women despite the fact that a lot of the time, healthy Moon women are extreme symbols of feminine strength and courage to be womanly & emotionally vulnerable. It's kinda like some people see the beauty, the softness, the emotion and picture a girl flouncing around in frilly dresses catering to men. Needless to say, a shallow and ironically anti-feminist conclusion. That being said, lunar receptivity can definitely make Moon influenced women prone to doing a lot to cater to men, but I think it's a mistake to miss the wisdom in the 'frilliness' and fanciful nature of lunar natives.

Anyway as always, I could write forever, this one was super fun to do :) noticing and dissecting these patterns is such a magical thing.

I hope this was interesting to someone, lots of love! 💞💞💞

[gotorux]

Fandom Discourse Analysis

Mentions of aging up, enjoying villian characters, and disliking popular characters.

Something I have noticed about anime becoming more popular and mainstream and also the rise in minors in certain spaces is a constant level of discourse over certain topics. I truly believe it’s a good thing anime has become more popular. However, as it brings in more viewers, I think it’s important too open up the conversation surrounding the necessity of distinguishing fiction from reality. There is a lot of posts I see while browsing tags and although I don’t post often I think something needs to be said about three very specific topics that, for me, mean a lot and seem to have a lot of discourse surrounding them. 

One of the things I see happening a lot lately within the community is the hatred against people for liking fictional characters who happen to be minors in their respective animes. The aging up dilemma. First off, let me start by saying that a fictional pixel on a screen does not = minor. It can not be a minor because it is a drawing that was made up whenever the author wrote it. And in a lot of these instances, these characters are crafted by the authors with traits that appeal broadly to audiences, transcending their canon ages. This is particularly evident in shonen anime, where characters are often depicted with maturity, wisdom, or exaggerated physical features that align more closely with adult aesthetics rather than with children. This stylistic choice by many authors is done purposely to cater to a wide demographic, enabling viewers to form connections with characters regardless of age. 

It's important to recognize that a great majority of the time it is NOT the age that attracts viewers to the character which differentiates them with people in real life who are attracted to minors. Having a crush on, or writing about a fictional character that, like I said previously more closely align with adult aesthetics, does not make someone a pedophile. I think when it comes to loli and shota, then yes maybe we can open up this conversation as those characters are made to look like children. But that’s another topic. Acknowledging the fictional nature of these characters and their resemblance to adult fictional characters should be taken into consideration and not be misconstrued as indicative of real-life inclinations towards minors. Not to mention many of these authors don’t want them to be minors which is why they write about them as adults. Again, these are NOT minors. They are drawings and their ages can be changed depending on who’s writing them. An author could come out tomorrow and say the character has always been an adult and that would make it canon. It is not the same as pedophilia. Most people like characters like Sukuna that doesn’t reflect their real life tastes. Which brings me to my next point. 

Liking a villainous character does not correspond to endorsing those actions in real life. Anime often portrays "evil" characters with a depth that makes them appealing through usually through some form of tragic backstory, a charismatic or confident personality, or having extremely complex motivations. I think this makes people often misunderstand that liking them is a reflection of one's real-world values. That is not the case. 

Some people even like these characters just for being attractive and due to the fact they are fictional, and again an authors way of getting people to appeal to said characters, it can not be misconstrued of saying that those actions would be okay in real life scenarios. These characters allow viewers to explore themes of conflict, redemption, and moral ambiguity that can be explored in safety because it’s fiction. I think one of the main reasons people find themselves drawn to them is that villian characters are often created with flaws and authors give them depth to explore said flaws. This is why anti-hero characters are also often seen as more relatable and engaging. Anti-heroes, like villains, aren't bound by the usual moral constraints and often make decisions that are more realistic than heroes would. They can express doubts, conflicts, and vulnerabilities that mirror real human experiences. This makes them intriguing and allows audiences to connect with them on a deeper level.

All that said I think the attraction to villainous or morally grey characters often stems from their complexity and the opportunity they provide for viewers to engage with difficult ideas and emotions in a safe, controlled setting. These characters challenge our perceptions of good and evil by navigating a blurred line between the two which is appealing for most people. 

The last thing I want to bring up which kind of ties in with liking villainous characters is that disliking certain characters beloved by others is not necessarily a negative stance. Anime characters are crafted with diverse backgrounds, personalities, and motives, which naturally produce varied reactions among viewers. Understanding a character's motives yet still disliking them is completely valid and should stop being treated as inherently wrong or a negative reflection of someone. 

People are allowed personal preference and I think that encourages a a better discussion within anime communities whereby differing opinions can coexist. It is through these discussions that fans can dig into character analysis and conversations revolving around characters. Recognizing that disagreement over characters is totally normal and that people can be cool with each other, or be friends and disagree is important in both real life and fiction. 

At the end of the day there is also the block button which I will admit I use when needed, if you disagree with someone’s take. Instead of sending them hate and being a horrible person on the internet. 

[ghouldtime]

*slides into the DMS*

S O. What does social anxiety for König look like through your fantastic characterization then? 👀

(Love your Alone operator series btw. Got me on the edge of my seat with each chapter!!)

(Thank you!! 💚💚💚 I'm so glad you're enjoying :D you all have been so so sweet with it and Im over the MOON so many people have liked it)

To answer this question I'm going to have to be a biiig yapper and explain why I think of him the way I do

Going to say this to start, but I'm going with the true fact that König is indeed diagnosed with social anxiety - anything else I'm saying is based off of my personal interpretation of how he acts in game as a disclaimer

I'm also going to state that personally, the König I write is in his lower to mid 40's. Sorry not sorry, I don't see him as a young dude. Especially not when it's pretty much agreed upon that he's a colonel. So he's had a SIGNIFICANT amount of life experience, and a significant amount of time to work on himself and have introspection.

To me, it makes the most sense that he was diagnosed with social anxiety earlier on in his childhood since it was significantly more obvious when he was younger. Something that severe wasn't unnoticed by those around him because some of them did care about him. It's also stated he's suffered from severe social anxiety throughout his life so that's how I took it.

I personally go with he grew up in a more rural town in his homeland of Austria, which meant there weren't exactly others around during the first few years. "Go play with the neighbors kids" didn't really work when there weren't neighbors around. It was mainly him and his parents and an occasional relative over.

What could be brushed off as initial shyness clearly couldn't be anymore when he finally was enrolled in school.

Even on the first day when it's "introduce yourself to everyone", he fucked that up so monumentally it'll be engraved forever in his hall of shameful memories that he thinks about late at night. School was an utter nightmare, quite frankly, from moment one. The whole situation was too much, too stressful, and too different from the life he had at home. He flat out refused to get up and present in front of the class and wouldn't talk in group projects just for the fear of embarrassing himself. At that time, he was hitting all the indicators for social anxiety like they're the targets he shoots at today.

He missed out on a lot of interaction with other kids initially because of how awkward he was - and having any form of anxiety never helps in social situations. Talking to others wasn't something that came naturally and his own panic amplified it tenfold. Most times, he'd either pretend he didn't hear them, avoid them, or stray as far to the edge of the group as possible to avoid it. Unfortunately this made him an easy target because kids are RUTHLESS and turned him into even more outcast as well which only worsened it.

School always sucked for him due to that, despite the fact that he was a smart kid. No amount of smarts could save you from social persecution when you had nearly no social skills to boot. [ side note but I'm dying on the hill that he's incredibly intelligent and has a bachelors degree (at the very least)].

His parents kept him in therapy to help him manage because without it, he'd be back at square one refusing to go to school and faking a cold just to get out of it. And of course, therapy is a very important tool when it comes to healing, coping, and managing severe mental disorders. The whole reason why he doesn't show such bad anxiety anymore is because he kept the skills he learned and applies them so much that it becomes his second nature.

He's had at least 35 years of this, he's good enough to mask and to keep up his facade.

Another part of why he doesn't show it nearly as much is because he joined the military and was thrown through the wringer with it. Being bullied for so long was a major motivator for joining in the first place, as he needed something to get away from the peers who tormented him so and he needed a new life where he wasn't known as target #1. But he ALSO wanted to gain actual confidence and more certainty in himself.

Joining the military really means you're not left with such things as many choices when it comes to anxiety in social situations. You're forced into quarters with others, have to work side-by-side, do nearly everything together, so on and so forth. He knew that going in but at that point for him it was like extreme exposure therapy, the last step he needed to really put everything he learned in therapy to work.

That doesn't mean he didn't suffer or loved it. No, it was terrible, intense, and nerve-wracking. But he wouldn't have done it otherwise if he didn't want that. Being in the military didn't give him the leeway to avoid what made him anxious, it taught him to face it head on and fight.

Now that he's up there in age and has considerable more experience (and leeway with having a higher rank), the ways he expresses it [look at me finally answering the question] are more subtle.

On the field, you're likely not going to notice it. Because that's him turning the little auto pilot switch in his mind to on when he has a job. The job is his focus and everything has been so engrained in his mind that it's muscle memory. He's, quite frankly, focused on not dying and getting any job done over himself. The joking you often hear him do and taunting alike is part of how he's expressing the confidence he feels when he's in his element, when he KNOWS what he is doing.

If you look closely or approach him off the field, however, it's another story. He usually tenses or straightens himself out when people approach and will hold that until they leave (unless they're someone who he truly knows). Many assume that's a taught habit of the military, but that's only half-true. He did that before then.

Unlike when he's working, he doesn't have a guide or things he knows he has to do in a specific order to best ensure survival - no matter how much talking to other people feels like the heat of the battle, you can't (legally) solve it with a gun or throw a frag and book it out of there. There's no true guide to social interactions and that stresses him out. There's no manual, no field guide, no ten step card on how to successfully navigate them.

He knows things that are normal to say, he knows sometimes what he should say - it's just a matter of finding the phrasing and how to say them. Yet it seems like whenever someone doesn't follow his pre-programmed line of thought when it comes to their talking, his mind can shut down and go blank as he stares, trying to figure out where to go or what to say (spoiler: it usually doesn't end well).

He's usually awkward to talk to because he's running over everything in his head as he tries to think of what best to say to avoid further interactions or ones that could be more targeting to him. And, as mentioned, he lacks the average set of social skills that plenty learn in childhood because he didn't have that proper socialization. He's also still not the best at talking itself and can be blunt and to-the-point, which also doesn't usually go down well.

Not to mention, he's bad at small talk and has a terrible, sarcastic sense of humor that many can't read and it quickly turns things uncomfortable very fast because everyone takes him seriously. It never helps he usually doesn't explain himself all too well, usually leaving it as is as he secretly wishes he didn't talk at all when mortification sets in. Hurrying away with an excuse of some paperwork or something else to busy himself is his go-to after those.

When possible, he'll avoid small-talk and greatly prefers gestures instead. Someone who can appreciate his greater need for silence and a lack of talking is someone who he will greatly appreciate in turn. He's a firm believer that not all silences are uncomfortable and sometimes, it IS best not to say anything at all.

Due to his childhood too, he's not really fond of being around many people and will do his best to avoid it. Unless he has to grin and bare it, he won't. He finds his mind calmest when he can just be himself without having to worry about saying the right things to appease others or to be friendly. That way he can focus on what he wants, think how he wants, and feels how he wants without second guessing himself or having to worry about existing.

He's going to avoid most public settings when possible. Though he can now suitably manage his anxiety, they're something he passes up on. Grocery store trips are something he does maybe once a week or two, if that - stock piling so he has to go to the store less is his usual strategy. Anything he can do himself, he WILL do himself, if he doesn't have a trusted person who can do it better or can help.

Notably, he also doesn't have many friends. He's like talking to a brick wall and unless you're considerably persistent and understanding of his need for space, you won't get far. A lot of people don't have the time nor patience for it, but if you do get close to him, he does come out of his shell. He appreciates anyone who cares enough to actually get close to him and get to know him despite how awkward he can be, and will be loyal to the end because of that.

Another side effect is that he doesn't sleep well. Between the massive amounts of trauma from his job and the trauma from his childhood, he doesn't sleep well as is. But the social anxiety aspect comes into play because many nights, his mind is rerunning all the interactions he's had as he chronically overthinks them. He always wonders what he could've done, how he could've improved, and what they're thinking of him (even if they're someone he may never run into again). Its very hard for him to shut his mind off and doing such usually requires him drowning everything else and making himself not think about that, or anything, any more.

[Another side note: He's an avid reader. Reading gives him new things to think about and can help put him to sleep, especially before bed. It's a good way for him to stop thinking about whatever was nagging him and shifts his mind into thinking about other things he enjoys instead)

Basically, IN SHORT this isn't my full in-depth detailed characterization of exactly who I think he is - the reason he's not presenting it as an anxious ball of pure energy who is so uwu shy and soft is because he is incredibly well-managed with his severe social anxiety at his age and that's uh, just not him. Social anxiety doesn't mean he's a blubbering mess or will cry at the slightest inconvenience and reducing him to that or treating anyone with social anxiety like they're a child because of it does not help at alllll.

He's had extensive therapy for this, he's got his methods, he can mask very well. He's a WHOLE GROWN MAN who is responsible for not only his actions but how he manages his emotions and he knows it. But if you know him and know what to look for, you'll be able to pick it up.

(Also the sheer amount of scenarios I've seen where people think he just would... cry if you took his mask off??? Him???? HIM???? König, "I can make you talk, where are they?" the skilled PMC operator? That one? That guy? Yeah no, anyone dumb enough to do that better have signed their will prior or hopefully has an intensive love for scrubbing all the floors with a single old toothbrush. He won't tolerate people harassing or hustling him or pressing on his nerves. Sure, it reminds him of his childhood bullies, but quite frankly that behavior as grown adults trying that is RIDICULOUS, it pisses him off and immediately lowers his opinion on them.)

To whoever made it this far, I hope this made sense, I took melatonin before I got the ask so I'm in another realm right now LMAO. König is one of my favorites and was the first character I realllly really loved and I just hate seeing him done so dirty. Especially as someone with severe social anxiety myself, it irritates me when it's portrayed just so... wrong and quite frankly, in a lazy, offensive manner lacking any nuance especially in relation to the character who has it. Like just making him stutter and cry isn't all social anxiety is and there's SO much depth and things to work with despite the... actual substance as far as his bio goes

[walks-the-ages]

let's play a game.

Biological Essentialism/Determinism can be summed up as, in the most simplified way, "what you are born as intrinsically determines your behavior and destiny".

"Gender Essentialism" uses the exact same framework but with a thin veneer of "trans inclusivity" slapped on top, to say that while your biology does not determine who you are, your gender identity does. Even before you realize you are trans or come out of the closet.

Under the framework of "Gender Essentialism" you're viewed as being X gender and somehow getting all of those 'benefits' from society even before you realize or come out as X gender.

So, some examples:

W is a member of a sentient Fantasy Race who is created to be Ontologically Evil. W being born into this Fantasy Race means that W is destined to be Evil and cruel no matter what and W and the rest of W's race will never ever be able to change their Evil ways.

X is assigned Female at birth. X is expected to be subservient, loyal to a single husband, and want to have children. X is expected to want these things from an early age and can and will be ostracized if X expressed any disinterest in these things or opposite behavior to the things expected of X's gender. (not wanting kids, not being interested in men, etc)

Y is assigned Male at birth. Y is expected to be fierce, strong, and to father many strong sons. Y is expected to want these things from an early age and can and will be ostracized if Y expresses any disinterest in these things or opposite behavior to the things expected of Y's gender. (being physically weak, not minding having daughters instead of sons, not being interested in women, etc)

Z is born into a strict caste system, and is born in the lowest caste. Z is expected to spend Z's whole life serving those 'better' than Z without recompense or complaint, with *no* possible avenue to advance in society due to the caste system.

This is inspired both by the wave of trans inclusive radical feminists who say that

"because trans men are of course men, that means they are inherently evil and oppressive and part of the patriarchy that seeks to tear trans women down."

and also because I've seen too many fantasy and scifi series way too comfortable with making Ontologically Evil Species and strictly enforced Caste Systems where everything is fine and dandy and everyone's happy with their lot in life as long as the ones with a caste system are the

"Beautiful, Pure and Good Elves, because as we all know, Happy Slaves aren't really Slaves, right? And if the Ruler has the Divine Right of Kings and all the little people think that's good, that makes it good, right?" (sarcasm).

If you've ever considering giving your fantasy or scifi race as 'caste' system that determins who does what based on their lineage or their body type and its apparently 'good and natural and everyone loves being their caste and wouldn't have it any other way'

....have you considered that Caste Systems have always been used as tools of oppression and discrimination and this is something real people face, and that we should not be writing "good caste systems" from the comfort of Western Society and perhaps consider the harm in romanticing these very real frameworks of systemic oppression?

Anyways, both in literature and real life:

do you agree that Biological Essentialism, Biological Determinism, and yes, "Trans-Inslusive Gender Essentialism" are ever correct and a good framework for viewing other people?

Or do you agree that this is an absolutely bullshit way to view individuals and that all it does is uphold systems of oppression, especially when it comes to queer people, people of color, disabled people, intersex people and more?

anyways just gonna leave you with this gif.

[ID: a gif from Pokemon the Movie 2000, showing Mew and Mewtwo floating over a battlefield, with Mewtwo having the realization "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth are irrelevant. It is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are." End ID]

[catch1ngmoths]

Your writing is amazing!!:3(this is my second time putting in a request for you, and I will be coming back again and again)

Could you do reader x joost (gn reader) where reader is autistic and got very overstimulated and overwhelmed at one of joost concerts (reader is dating joost and reader always goes on tour with him) so reader went somewhere more quiet and after joost got done with his concert he always goes to reader but joost couldn’t find reader andddd idk how to end this SOO you can think of something!:3 anything really idm!!

HAVE SN AMAZING DAY/NIGHT (^���^✿)

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ WATERMELON ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ “I’m a watermellon slammed into your driveway, crack me open so I feel the air inside me…like a tounge-tounge, in my eardrum dum dum. Music boyfriend I’m your yum yum, call me and i come." - John + Jane Q public𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

Summary: your autistic and during one of Joosts concerts you feel overstimulated and hide out in one of the backstage. When Joost is done preforming he immediately cradles you and makes you feel nothing short of loved.

Note: This is a draft from 4 MONTHS AGO, I’m so sorry for being so late blah (all credits for the edit above go to multifandom.astar on TikTok!) WHOEVER REQUESTED THIS I LOVE YOU x 100000!! THIS IS BASED OF MY AUTISM, IT MIGHT NOT BE LIKE YOURS BUT I HAD NOBODY ELSE TO GO OFF SO I BASED READER OFF MY OWN STRUGGLES!!!!! if you don’t like bugs then…just pretend you do :,(

Warnings: overstimulation and little panic from Joost but overall just tooth rotting fluff

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

As the second performance nears, Joost takes a moment to get himself ready. Fixing his hair, checking his appearance in the mirror, making sure everything is perfect for the show. He can already feel the rush of adrenaline starting to course through his veins, knowing that it will only grow stronger once he's on stage. But today, there was an added aspect of nervousness and anticipation due to today's crowd and the task of making sure he could provide the best experience for you.

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves before walking out into the backstage area. He sees his DJ’s preparing and finishing up the final checks before the show, all of them buzzing with the familiar energy of an impending performance. His eyes scan quickly through the crew, looking for any sign of you, hoping to see you and ease his mind somewhat

You’re standing in the front of the crowd, crouched down looking at a beetle. Your bulky headphones cover your ears as you smile softly at the stag beetle that walks on the grass, stag beetles are your favorite!! Joost can't help but spot you in the front of the crowd, standing out amongst the sea of people waiting to enter the venue. He smiles when he sees your form crouched down. From his vantage point, he can't quite make out what you’re looking at, but he can guess it's probably some small creature, given your love for insects.

His heart feels a mixture of affection and worry, knowing that you’re probably feeling a little anxious and uncomfortable in the large crowd. His heart was right, call it lovers instinct but you were more anxious then you thought you’d be. This crowd was loud and wild even before the show started, the delicate little beetle on the ground was the only thing that seemed to be distracting.

He watches you from a distance, noticing the way you seem to be engrossed in admiring the beetle. He can see the slight tension in your shoulders, the way you seem a little on edge. He knows you well enough to recognize the signs of your anxiety even from where he stands. He wants to walk over to you, comfort you, and assure you that everything will be alright, but he knows that this is something that for now - you’ll have to handle on her own. So he just continues observing from afar…

You chuckle and smile down at the beetle, so cool, it could do no wrong, just natures beautiful creatu- *CRACK!!* a shoe steps right on the brown beetle making your eyes widen as the shoe disappears as quickly as it came. The beetles squished body makes you frown and bottom lip tremble. Joost sees the change in your expression as a shoe crushes the beetle you were admiring, and he can't help but feel a pang of sympathy. He knows how much you love insects, and seeing the disappointment and sadness on your face makes his heart ache.

He clenches his fists at his sides, his protective instinct flaring up as he watches you visibly upset by what just happened. He desperately wants you to look up to at least give you a look of comfort and reassurance, but before he can act, the crowd begins pouring into the venue, and the show is about to start.

You stare down at the dead creature before scooping it up in your hands, standing up from where you were once crouched down. You hold the beetles in your hands, that cute little thing was the only thing distracting you from your rising feeling of dread. The crowd around them continues to buzz with excitement and anticipation, but all he can focus on is you. The show finally starts and you wince when you hear the loud buzz of the music, you look up with wide eyes. Hoping to see - now your only form of comfort, the star of the show and your beloved, Joost.

Joost can see her wince at the loud noise of the music, his heart clenches again as he sees you seeking comfort in the midst of the chaotic scene. He wants to go to you right then and there, but he knows he has a job to do. The lights flash and the music begins, the crowd's cheers drowning out any other sound. He takes a deep breath, focusing on the performance, but his eyes frequently dart over to where you’re standing, watching your every reaction carefully.

You hold the dead beetle in your closed hands and while just the sight of joost calms her- her emotions are too much, its not enough, everything was too loud. Too close. Too much.. he performs, the words and music flowing effortlessly out of him as he puts on a show, but his mind is partially elsewhere. He glances over at you every chance he gets, his heart aching as he sees you holding the dead beetle, obviously feeling overwhelmed by the loud noises and the large crowd.

He tries to keep his focus on the performance, but he can't help but worry about you, wondering if she's managing okay despite the noise and chaos. You turn to look around nervously, almost frantically as you see everything going on. Even with your headphones on it was just too much, you just wanted you be in joosts arms but knew you couldn’t. You could feel your breathing quicken by the second

Joost watches you from his peripheral, noticing your breathing is rapid, and he knows you’re on the verge of a panic attack. His singing falters at the sight of your distress, wanting to do nothing more than stop the show and run to you but he forces himself to keep performing. His body moving and singing on autopilot, all the while his mind is racing, desperately wondering how he can comfort you.

You whimper and decide you could go backstage but that would mean going though the large, ruthless crowd… you clutch the beetle as you take a breath and close your eyes before swiftly turning and making your way through the crowd in hopes to make it backstage. You close your eyes tightly, taking in a deep breath before turning and forcing yourself to start pushing through the crowd. The jostling and noise makes your heart pound, but you keep your focus on getting backstage, on finding some kind of comfort and relief. Joost continues to perform, his eyes on you every now and then.

People push into you and bump into you, making you wince and whimper each time. You feel your closed eyes start to become glossy in overstimulation. You manage to make it backstage, slipping into his dressing room and finding some semblance of safety and comfort. You takes a few deep breaths, steadying herself after the arduous journey through the crowd. The room is quiet, a stark contrast compared to the loud environment you’ve just escaped. You know it will be some time before he's done, but just being away from the crowd and loud music makes you feel slightly better.

You cradle the beetle in your hands, feeling tears in your eyes at the sight of the innocent creature die for the crime of being small. “M’sorry little thing..” you coo and wonder how joost is feeling. You press a soft kiss to the beetles head before stepping outside into the backstage area and searches for a spot of soft grass, determined to give the beetle a proper burial. You dig into the soft ground, creating a small resting place for it, before gently placing the beetle there and covering it with the upturned soil.

He's finally about to wrap up the last song. The adrenaline is still coursing through him, but he can't wait to see you again, to make sure you’re alright. He finishes the song, the roar of the crowd only a dull hum in his ears. He rushes off the stage, his mind fully fixed on you. He makes his way backstage, heading straight for his dressing room... you sit on one of the couches, legs pulled up to your chest and arms wrapped around, resting your chin on your knees. You sigh and wait for joost, not knowing when he’d be there

He finally reaches the dressing room, opening the door and stepping inside, still wearing his rocker performance outfit. He looks over at you, a mix of worry, love, and relief washing over him. "Schatje..." He takes in your posture, noticing the way your sitting, your legs pulled up to your chest and your arms wrapped around. He quickly closes the door behind him before walking over to you with quick, but controlled steps.

You look up startled at the sound but relaxes as you see your lovers worried face, you immediately frowns and get off the couch. You lunge into his embrace quickly as he coos. Joost catches you in his arms, wrapping them tightly around your frame. He holds you close, relishing the feeling of your body pressed against his. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling the familiar scent and letting the relief of knowing your safe wash over him. “Oh, schatje... I was so worried about you..."

You snuggle deep into his chest as he pulls you to sit down on his lap on the couch, he cradles you as he rubs shapes into your skin. “How are you feeling honey?” He asks with a frown, “I’m better now - it just got too much” you respond with a slight shrug. “I know mijn liefde, you can come back here anytime okay. I’m proud of you for dealing with it without me, I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to help you” he sighs

You don’t have to respond, you both have a silent agreement of understanding between you both. “Y-your shows over.? You don’t have to do anything else..?” You ask as you look up at him with a tilted head. He chuckles softly at your question, his heart swelling with affection as he holds your face in his hands - pressing soft kisses to your eyelids. "No, schatje, the show is over. I don't have to do anything else now. I'm all yours tonight."

You smile gladly at him with a nod, “could we go back home.?” You mumble softly. He feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of your smile, your simple words making him eager to give you anything your heart desires. "Of course, schatje. We can go back to my place. Let me just grab my things and say goodbye to a few people, and then we’ll head out." He gently squeezes you in his arms, unwilling to let go of you just yet. “How about I pick up your favorite on our way back?” He smiles.

You gasp and nod with a hum of approval and a soft smile, the sound of your favorite food with your favorite person sounded like heaven after everything. He chuckles at your reaction, shaking his head before pressing a long kiss to your head in affection. “I love you schat..” he says against your hair, you wanted to stay in his arms forever. Forever protected and loved. “I love you joost..”

࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔ ࿔‧ ֶָ֢˚˖𐦍˖˚ֶָ֢ ‧࿔

EDIT: im so dumb I didn’t read the request all the way like a DUMBASS so it’s different from the og request. I’m so sorry I’m fucking STUPID 💔💔

[worldunbent]

chapter notes - matoba seiji

a compilation of all of midorikawa's chapter notes concerning matoba (as of volume 29)

all are from the official viz releases, translated by lillian olsen.

Chapters 23 - 26 - Inhuman Thing I didn't have a chance to write a story about Matoba until now due to page constraints or manga cycling issues in the magazine. I had fun when I finally got around to it. Matoba's appearance means Natori's hardships become more obvious. Natori settled upon his current philosophy after a lot of reflection. But then he sees Natsume wrestling with the same choices and slogging through the same place he used to be, and it's both amusing and frustrating at the same time for him. Natsume might realize this and not be able to presume so much on his kindness. Natsume and Natori are left with a problem, so l hope to take my time drawing them dealing with it.

Volume 9 (General afterword) I enjoyed drawing a bit about Matoba. He has several titles. He’s the organizer of the assembly of exorcists, so he’s called “Chairman” during the meetings. He’s the young head of the family from a regular human perspective, and known as the leader of his clan to yokai. Natsume has been more relaxed lately, so it’s very fun to draw something tense like this once in a while. I’d like to write thoroughly about exorcists some time when I have the opportunity. Seeing Matoba and Natori side by side here, they’re clearly eccentrics. I’m relieved that Natsume seems normal by comparison.

Chapters 52 - 54 - Behind the Chains Natsume is now able to face a variety of things. But I also feel that the distance between him and Natori grows each time they encounter one another. They see the same things and hope for the same outcome, but because their paths are a little different, it's hard for them to take action when they're together. It's a strange feeling. I'm sure Natori wants to remain Natsume's ally, and Natsume wants the same with Natori. I'm happy I got to draw more about Matoba, too. Whereas Natori tries to do what's right and is afraid of making a mistake, I think Matoba is the kind of person who doesn't fear making mistakes.

Chapter 77 - The Two Rings This was another story I had always wanted to do, but the timing never worked out, so I was very happy to get to it now. When I'm drawing Natsume, I always agonize over his dialogue and pick his words carefully. But when I'm drawing the Matoba clan, I don't have to think about the impression they're making, and I just use words that pop up in my head. Mr. Natori is somewhere in between. It's always a bit refreshing to draw the exorcists. I hope people form their opinions of Mr. Matoba based on what's on the page. In good ways and bad, he's a character who lies but is also uninhibited.

Special Episode 17 - A Hand Extended They let me do another episode of Natori as a high school student. There was another anecdote I wanted to include, but it wouldn't fit, no matter how hard I tried to rearrange things. Still, I'm happy I could depict more of Natori and Matoba's relationship. Sometimes you can't come to an understanding with a person, but once you become aware of your own feelings, you can often begin to be more objective. Then you start to see aspects of the person that change your mind, which is natural. But unlike Natsume, Natori can be stubborn and won't allow his feelings to change. It was interesting to see how Natori would feel about the aloof and unwavering Matoba.

Special Episode 19 - An Abandoned Station in the Rain With 16 pages, the plot could have felt too similar to other Special Episodes, so I decided to do a simple story just about running into someone unexpected. It was fun showing Matoba being himself. Mr. Matoba knows yokai who live in a slightly different world from the one Natsume knows, and Nyanko Sensei knows both worlds. I'd like to do more stories about the two of them.

Chapters 92 - 94 - The House of Promises I have a memory of some boys climbing the gate of the town hall to pick some loquats at the end of spring and getting scolded. I made it seem like spring when the chapter appeared in the magazine, but then I heard that loquats ripen in early summer, so my older sister helped me race to redraw the clothing into something more summery before the graphic novel release. I enjoyed drawing the exorcists. Mr. Natori just can't catch a break and Mr. Matoba has many things going for him, but he often gets shut out. They don't really get along, and they're skeptical of each other even when real empathy is extended. Natsume is always at least trying to listen, so conversations are easier with him present. No matter what, Mr. Natori is older, and Mr. Matoba is younger. End of story. When I include the exorcists, there are all these dilemmas and convolutions that make things complicated and fun to draw. It feels fresh to me. I get nostalgic for the first time Natsume and Mr. Natori met when they're together. Their bond is getting deeper, but it was easier before for Mr. Natori to casually invite Natsume on outings. When you know someone a long time, there are more things to say, but sometimes, just as many things remain unsaid.

Chapters 103 - 104 - Where Vessels Lie in Slumber* I was so happy to work on a longer story for once. My head starts filling up with what to do next while I'm still working on the current episode. when I'm in one-shot mode. But being able to linger on a story arc reminded me of the excitement I felt back when I first wanted to be a manga artist. I still have a lot of storylines I'd prefer not to cut short, so I hope I get more opportunities like this. I've wanted to do this particular story for a long time, but. I feel like it could only be done now because of how Natsume's currently feeling. I hope you can pick up on how Natori and Matoba's relationship changes subtly depending on the situation, and that you get a feel for their solidarity as exorcist peers. It was so fun drawing everything I wanted to include: Natsume's faith in his friends; Natori's belief that he can still offer help even as an exorcist; Matoba, who's sometimes prevented from action because he knows and sees too much; Tanuma, who's surely able to help, but is unable to accompany Natsume; the cats protecting their secret; Nyanko Sensei. And of course there were even more things I wanted to expand on, so I'll take my time working them out.

*The first three chapters of this arc are in the previous volume and there's not enough in the other note for me to include.

[myslutwritings]

Hey, hope you’re doing well!<3 :)

I love your headcanons on the uppermoon demons!! (I start doing laps around my room and cartwheeling every time you post🛐) I have a request on the upper moons x their female s/o during her time of the month (esp when she has very bad period cramps 🥲 like literally feels like you’re getting stabbed in the lower abdomen, back pain, nausea etc.,etc.)

You can write either mainly SFW hcs or mix it up with NSFW hcs, I don’t mind, just happy to get the request written tbh😭

(Also, if you don’t feel comfortable writing for such a topic, that’s okay! :) thank you for taking the time to read my request though! Hope you have a good day/night!<3)

TYSM🫶🫶 i’ll definitely be doing this! (and fyi yes i am completely writing for this kind of thing! it’s completely normal!)

➤ Uppermoons taking care of you on your time of the month

➤ Headcanons (not proof read)

Uppermoons x F!reader (modern AU)

Including: Muzan, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza + Hantengu Clones!

•

•

•

warnings: mostly sfw but with some semi-nsfw

Muzan Kibutsuji

He l literally just arrives home to find you curled up on the bed. You look like you’re in agony and immediately he presumes someone hurt you.

That’s all until you tell him that your body is just experiencing horrendous cramps due to being on your period.

Muzan isn’t a dumbass so he’s familiar with what a period is.

So he obviously isn’t repulsed by you or anything!

You don’t even have to tell him fully because he caught the whiff of your blood prior. Which is another reason he thought someone hurt you at first.

As we know, not the best at giving affection but he’ll take care of you (if you’re lucky)

But whenever you’re on your period you receive sooo much affection from him and it always catches you off guard because you never EVER witness him like this.

Muzan lowkey loves how clingy you get as well. Feeds off it when you rely on him. It’s his confidence boost.

Cuddles with you (on occasion) and will give you free massages without you having to ask.

Isn’t the most vocal but he will whisper words of affirmation in your ear. It sends chills down your spine whenever he does.

You don’t even have to tell him where your cramps are because he immediately knows and takes care of it for you!

Is unexpectedly good at holding back his hunger for your blood. Muzan Isn’t too fond of your blood in the first place because he doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. (surprisingly. considering he’s the demon king n all)

Kokushibo

Then again, like Muzan he assumes you’re hurt until you inform him that you’re just having agonizing cramps.

Kokushibo absolutely despises witnessing you in any form of pain so without saying a word you’re quickly embraced by him.

Will take care of you all day and all night until you’re finally off your period.

Has to fight back the urge to taste your blood💀

If you have to postpone sexy times then he is understanding! As long as you’re comfortable. He’s happy just taking care of you like this.

Is a bit shocked by how needy you become though.

It’s sorta cute in his six eyes how humans get like this.

he’ll also love love LOVE how you’ll rely on him.. (but ofc he doesn’t express it)

Being overly vocal isn’t his nature but he’ll do his best to comfort you with his words as well if you’re in extreme pain.

Gently massages your cramps, buys you a heating pad and everything or he’ll even bathe you. Bro is such a gentleman tbh<33

I’m conclusion, he is always prepared. He’ll happily buy you a bunch of sweets if you have a habit of earthy candy while you’re on your cycle. Always prepared with pads too.

Douma

Douma isn’t really too fond of how lazy you become whenever you’re on your period!

You’re usually up and about so what’s changed?

At first he doesn’t notice until he smells the faint scent of fresh blood.

It’s embarrassing really because at first you didn’t tell him. But Douma isn’t an idiot so he immediately knows and teases you when you confess you were too shy to tell him.

Douma absolutely adores taking care of you and he literally is on his knees for you no matter what so anything you need he can definitely provide it! He’s obsessed with giving. He’s almost too giving.

I feel like he would just naturally have sweets in his house so he’ll just give them all to you.

Will bathe you and cook for you and gives you very intimate massages.

Tells you how you smell extra good whenever you’re on your period.

You punched him in the stomach for that.

Buttttt.. if you’re the one to not wanna engage in sexual acts when you’re on your cycle he will throw a fit if you have to postpone sexy times with him. i

He wants to taste you badly. Especially when you’re bleeding from there yk (he’s so downbad it’s unreal)

On the other end, he’s still satisfied though because you become way more clingy! Usually, he’s the one who’s clingy, so it’s like the roles are reversed.

Douma also finds it amusing whenever you’re withering in pain because of your cramps. He gets off by how extra vulnerable you get. (He’s such a sadist, i swear)

Douma lends you extra cuddles but you proceed to complain about how cold he is. You want to be warm and comfortable and be just isn’t helping with us naturally cold body temperature.

Throws a tantrum if you don’t wanna cuddle. Will beg you until you say yes. He doesn’t care and thinks you’ll feel better if you let him hold you (He is fucking delusional and doesn’t understand that he’s only making it worst)

Akaza

You know him, you love him.

You bet your ass this man is gonna be head over heels for you and treat you like his queen no matter what.

Akaza immediately knows what’s up when he comes across you lying on the couch clearly in pain.

Carries you to the bedroom and gives you a heating pad and just lies down next to you while stroking your hair. Telling you about his day because he knows his words comfort you!

You don’t even have to tell him because he knows what makes you feel better when you’re on your time of the month!

Buys you all the necessities you need! He naturally just knows by heart what to get.

Even buys you the correct pads/tampons too, gets you your favorite candy as well, or anything else you like!

Suchhhhh a fucking gentleman!!

The two of you share lots of fluffy moments together!

Whenever you’re experiencing extreme nausea he will make you something healthy to eat and lend you a cold drink. Will deadass spoon feed you all romantically

He’s super overprotective and loves to take care of you. ALWAYS.

We know Akaza doesn’t eat women so he’s easily able to fight back the urge to taste your blood. He couldn’t care less about that.

Is super understanding and accepting of you don’t want to engage in sexual acts while you’re on your period. He would much rather take care of you! But if you did want to have sex he wouldn’t complain.

Akaza probably wouldn’t be into eating you out while you’re on your period because as we know he doesn’t eat women.

Hantengu Clones

Sekido

You’d probably expect him to be mad but he actually isn’t which is a huge surprise.

He is only mad at the fact you’re in pain.

Only anger is his nature but he’ll drop it for once in order to care for you.

Not the best at it, imma admit.

If he needs to buy you pads he’ll probably get lost in the store. It takes him like an hour to find the correct ones for you because all this feminine stuff is confusing on his end.

But surprise, surprise, he returns back with everything you need despite him taking awhile.

Complains to you about it afterwards and how infuriating it was to find pad/tampons for you.

He’s being over dramatic so you just laugh it off and thank him.

Well, at least you’re happy so that’s good enough.

Doesn’t really like cuddling but if it’ll help you he’ll do it for your sake.

Karaku

Another amazing care taker.

Cooks for you, gives you baths, buys whatever feminine products you require even tho he gets a lil confused..

But at the same time he gets really fucking aroused.

Doesn’t care if you’re bleeding, that makes it even better.

But if you aren’t the type to wanna fuck he’ll understand. But he’s bummed out about it though.

Lots and lots of cuddles for you!

Teases you when you’re in pain (then again, sadist)

But afterwards he’ll feel a tad-bit guilty and just cuddle you until you fall asleep in his arms.

Karaku is surprisingly warm so you don’t need a heating pad when he literally already is one.

Aizetsu

“Are you okay, love?” Aizetsu notices you’re in extreme agony and becomes worried as his eyes laid on your fetal position in bed.

Cue caretaker Aizetsu!!

Seeing you in such pain makes him so upset and even more depressed than before.

Is immediately doing EVERYTHING for you.

Even if this affection causes him to grow exhausted If it means the pain will go away for you then he’ll do it in a heartbeat!

Would never tease you either:( that’s so mean.

Bro gets a little flustered sometimes whenever he has to buy those feminine products for you.

He isn’t experienced with taking care of someone while on their period because he isn’t too sure on what exactly to do.

But as soon as you tell him what to do he’s doing it all in a heartbeat! Is surprisingly a fast learner so he goes into the habit of taking care of you without you having to ask anymore whenever you’re on that time of the month.

He even knows before you know when you’re on your period because he can smell your blood.

Urogi

Right off the bat asks why he smells blood.

You just tell him you’re on your time of the month and then he laughs and just cuddles you.

Is absolute SHIT when it comes to taking care of you though.

He can’t really give you massages because of his talons..

But you get a lot of cuddles though which is a relief!

Buys you painkillers or heating pads.

Goes into he feminine product section of the store and takes a picture of it and asks “What size pussy you wear, mamas?”

You hate him sometimes.

Instead of what you actually need which is the correct tampons and pads he comes back with marshmallows

MARSHMALLOWS

And because you’re more fired up when you’re on your time of the month you literally almost kill him.

He’s sleeping on the couch tonight.

AHHH! i’m so so so sorry for not posting! i’ve been trying to find a new job and life has been a pain in the ass. But i started this last night and was finally able to finish! I hope you like it. My requests are still open so i’m still taking them! It just might take me awhile to finish them.