#he looks like he does gel face masks

[gwensy]

jonathan crane standing about four inches away from his television screen watching saw on blu ray like a white father watches the news

[slater-baby]

Boyfriend Johnny x All Your Expensive Skincare

Johnny x f!Reader

Boyfriend Johnny who wakes up earlier than you one morning on accident. He stumbles into the bathroom, and brushes his teeth while scowling confusedly down at all of his girlfriend's skin products.

"Doesnnae make a lick o' sense to me, bonnie, but if ye like it, that's all that matters."

-

Boyfriend Johnny who's turning his face this way and that in the mirror, trying to get a good shave. You're showering, completely unaware of the havoc he's about to wreak.

"Bonnie, you know where my aftershave went?"

"Not a clue, babe. Check the shelves."

"Fuck it," he huffs frustratedly.

And that is when he spies your ridiculously expensive face lotion. Conspicuously, he peers over at where the shower curtain blocks your sight line.

He slathers it all over his face like a heathen.

-

Boyfriend Johnny who really likes your fucking lotion.

"Johnny," you huff, jogging into the living room, "You think we can stop by Sephora on the way to dinner tonight? Ran outta my lotion. Again."

"Uh--sure, bonnie," he answers, barely looking up from the game he's playing, "Lemme get the keys."

When you walk away, you don't see the raging blush on his face. That, and you don't notice that he smells suspiciously like vanilla sugar when you climb into the truck.

-

Boyfriend Johnny who graduates from lotion to face masks and eye creams alarmingly quick.

"Johnny?" you knock on the bathroom door, shocking him out of his stupor, "You okay in there? You've been in there awhile..."

"Uh--yeah, bonnie, m'alright," he tries to come off convincingly. And yet, the clay mask over his face hardens quickly, slurring his speech, "Just...puttin' some more gel in m'hair."

"You need more gel?" you ask, alarmed, "Didn't know such a thing was possible..."

"Shut up," he scowls, turning back to the mirror.

-

Boyfriend Johnny who you catch in the act one day.

Without even looking, you burst through the bathroom door--only to freeze in your spot when you see your boyfriend standing front and center, half-naked, with golden, sparkly eye masks glued onto his dark circles.

Immediately, Soap jumps to damage control.

"Bonnie--I swear it's not what it looks like," he huffs, face immediately going fire truck red.

....only for his worry to fall flat when you break down into raucous laughter, wiping tears out of your eyes.

-

Boyfriend Johnny who pouts on the couch while you paint a face mask over his cheeks.

"Johnny," you giggle, looking at his pursed lips, "Are you really that upset that I caught you?"

"No, m'just..." he grumbles, going still when you reach his forehead.

"I'm not angry, y'know," you smile, "Just glad to know who's been stealing my lotion all this time..."

"Whatever," he turns his face, trying (and failing) to pretend like he isn't thoroughly enjoying the treatment.

You cap the mask, looking down at your handiwork (and one very red Scottish boyfriend.)

"Do you want me to make you a cucumber water?" you ask gently.

"......Yes."

-

Boyfriend Johnny who does face masks with you every Saturday night.

Boyfriend Johnny who stands by you in the mirror, ogling your bare body while he washes Lancôme face wash out of his stubble.

Boyfriend Johnny who amasses his own collection of expensive skincare, all of which you helped him shop for.

Boyfriend Johnny who gets so used to it he even keeps up his routine when he's on base.

-

"Soap," Ghost halts in his steps, staring down at where Johnny lays on his cot. Soap drops the book he was reading to look up at the lieutenant.

"What, LT?"

He can practically see Simon furrow his brows underneath the mask. He leans closer, cocking his head.

"What's all that shite all over your face?" Simon asks curiously, eyes locked right on the scream slathered messily over Johnny's cheeks (he could never do it as gracefully as you could).

"Tea leaf mask," he answers without even thinking.

"Weird," Simon says immediately, continuing his prowl of the barracks.

Instantly, Johnny calls after him.

"Whatever," he scoffs, "You wankers are just mad m'beautiful."

[featherandferns]

gamble (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | technically a sequel to risk (read here!) but can probably be read as a standalone too!

content warnings: physical v!olence; mentions of sex (fem receiving); kook assholes

word count: 22k. (get a warm drink and strap tf in)

blurb: you love JJ Maybank for who he is, but as more people find out, more secrets are uncovered, things start to feel different. Why does it suddenly feel like JJ's keeping things from you? And why does he never tell you that he loves you back?

You used to have trouble sleeping. It felt as though someone was always lurking in the background of your mind, passing through the backdrop of your dreams like an extra in a movie. Overtime, it came and went. You got used to the occasional insomnia. But after JJ, you slept soundly at night. It was such an eerie shift that you wondered if it was him. If JJ was the one that had been lingering in the back of your mind, as though the universe had saved space for him in your life before he’d even entered it. 

The Maybank name was infamous on Kildare Island. You weren’t oblivious to the reputation that was tied to it nor were you oblivious to JJ Maybank himself. He was like a comet shower: unpredictable and unavoidable. Girls were drawn to him the same way he was drawn to trouble, and you were seemingly no exception. But you admired from afar. You’d catch glimpses of him during Sunday service, back when JJ was practically forced to attend. Subtly trying to glance over your dad’s body, you’d make out his shaggy sun-bleached blonde hair, free from his usually caps, and the way that his creased dress shirt sat unnaturally on his ever-strengthening frame. Then, he vanished from the church. You think it had to do with his mother, come to think. You knew little of JJ’s family but you never took Luke for a big bible-thumping man. People no longer wanted to help JJ. No, they wanted to leave him to the fishes. He can make his own bed, they’d sigh, and he can lie in it. A twin of his father, they’d sigh. A lost cause.

You didn’t believe in that. JJ had changed the trajectory of your life. He was the sunlight beaming down on your days of grey. He was the throttle in your beat-down tin box car. He was the album that you never knew existed but never wanted to be without again. He brought colour to your bubblewrap Kook life. Blinding red and brilliant yellow and haunting blue. Adrenaline and lust and happiness. 

JJ squints his eyes open. 

“Quit it!” you scold with a smile. 

“Just wanna look at you,” he mumbles. There’s a dopey smile on his lips as his eyes close once more. You laugh quietly and roll your eyes and shake your head. You’re sat, straddled, on his lower stomach. In one hand is a tub of Clinique clay face mask, your other hand dirtied at the fingers. JJ’s hands are resting on your bare thighs, fingers rubbing mindless patterns, up and down, in hardly-there massages of the flesh. The cool, damp clay smears across his cheeks and you rub it in with the pads of your fingers. It’s a nice excuse to touch him - not that you need an excuse. The tips of your acrylic nails barely scratch the surface of his skin as you wipe the facemask under his eyes and around his temples, painting it along his cheeks and chin. There’s the faint scratch of his growing back stubble that poetically contrasts the soft peach fuzz atop of his boyish features. 

“Is it stinging?” you check. 

“No,” he hums. He sounds relaxed. He looks it, too, sunken into your bedding, head propped atop of throw pillows, a lilypad in a sea of comfort. You wipe your hands clean on an Egyptian cotton towel before leaning over and digging about in your make-up bag. You subject JJ to lip scrub, gel-cooler pads on the eyes, and even eyelash and eyebrow serum. JJ takes it all willingly. You think he secretly enjoys how doting you are of him. Enjoys the attention and the pamper and the care taken for such insignificant things. 

“For someone who washes, like, twice a week, you have incredible skin,” you murmur, a little envious. 

“Hey! I wash more than twice a week!”

“Going in the sea doesn’t count as a shower. You know that, right? It’s important to me that you know that.”

At your teasing, JJ squeezes your thighs. Not hard enough to hurt; enough to draw a giggle. A warm, damp washcloth wipes his skin clear. You treat him with toner and moisturiser and facial spray and lip balm. His eyes remain closed, blissful, as you go about the motions. He’s adorable like this. Nobody would believe you if you told them that you gave JJ Maybank a spa-like pamper treatment. This side of him was just for you. You could tell by the way it took very little convincing for him to allow you to do it. Leaning down, you plant a quick kiss on his lips. 

“Done,” you brightly announce. 

Sighing, JJ blinks his eyes open and sits up onto his elbows. His hands slide down from your thighs to your knees. As he wakes up his muscles and joints from their hour long break, you reach for the mirror that lies on the comforter of your bed and hold it out before him so he can see his reflection. JJ pulls a face as if impressed by the glow of his skin and you grin. 

“Feels nice, right?” 

JJ runs a finger along his jaw as if admiring your handy-work. “I’ll say,” he grins. 

His hands suddenly land on your hips and JJ tugs you down towards him. Giggling, the mirror flops back onto the plush duvet as you gladly fall into his hold. You catch yourself with a hand by his head and another on his firm upper chest. God, it’s not fair. He’s so pretty it hurts. Your lips slot against his. The combination of oils and scrubs and balms taste sweet and tangy. JJ’s greedy with his touch, his hands slinking around to your backside, palming leisurely at the flesh. Pulling apart for breath, JJ’s hooded eyes flit between your damp lips and shining eyes. A telling smirk grows on his handsome face. 

“What’d you say I give you a facial too, huh?”

“You’re gross,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes. JJ sniggers and you can’t take the distance much longer. You quiet him with your mouth. He sinks into your kisses like he sinks into your bed. It’s like a dance, the way your lips move together. The push and pull: hard then soft. It’s like he’s Jekyll and Hyde, debating how to be. Whether to savour it or take it. His fingertips tease at your skin and you sigh contently against his lips. Like a fire, it simmers to a warm burn then sparks up again with newfound kindling. You rock against him, feeling him under his shorts, trying not to smirk at the ego boost of knowing how much you affect him. It’s not like it’s one way though. Nobody had ever had you like JJ Maybank did. 

JJ’s fingers slip into your hair. It’s still damp from washing it, unstyled and untamed atop of your head. Before, you wouldn’t dream of letting someone see you so unkept, but with JJ it was different. He saw through all of that anyway. The glitz and glamour was a part of you but it didn’t make you. His lips draw away from yours and he’s breathing heavy, hot against your skin, as he chases your jaw and your neck. You sigh at the lubricious kisses against the tender skin. The toe-curling sensation of his teeth scratching the surface just-so, never enough to break, never enough to hurt. 

“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles against you. He inhales as if he wants you in his lungs like vapour. You pull his lips back to yours, alight once more. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

“You talk too much,” you tell him against his mouth. He sort of chuckles. 

“Like that’s ever bothered you.”

“Shush,” you hurry out, kissing him harder, deeper. His tongue lewdly brushes yours. 

Neither of you can keep your hands to yourself. Neither of you can keep still. There’s no thought safe from JJ. No desire or wish. He’s everything, all consuming, as if he’s brainwashed you. 

“Prettiest girl in Kildare County.”

“Prettiest boy in North Carolina.”

“Always gotta one up me,” JJ sniggers. 

Hands and lips and tongue and teeth. Your heart races in your chest, lungs short of air. It’s giggly and erotic and romantic and there’s nothing else in the room, in the world, than JJ and you. His fingers finally find the lace fringing of your panties and your lips smile instinctively at the promise of what would follow. You go to decorate his jawline with hickeys as if painting a Monet. The sounds he makes are your favourite. Some whining-type groan, mixed amongst sighs and heavy breathes. Incoherent praises through mumbling lips. 

“Ew!”

Like a sledgehammer to an ice sheet, the moment is shattered. You pull back with furrowed brows, staring down at a cringing JJ. 

“Ranger! Get off!”

Your head whips around to find your darling geriatric golden retriever licking the fuck out of JJ’s feet. JJ keeps trying to kick his foot away but Ranger is obsessed, following after it. You laugh. 

“Ranger, I don’t think you wanna do that. God knows the last time he washed those dogs.”

“Hey!” JJ protests at your reasonable comment. You turn back to him with a playful grin. He leans up and kisses you fleetingly on the lips. “It’s a good thing you’re hot,” he jokingly tells you. 

“Could say the same thing to you.”

“Ranger! Seriously, man!” 

You’re gently tossed off JJ’s body, tumbling into the sheets with a laugh, as JJ gets up and frees his feet from Ranger’s affection. Rolling onto your side, you smile as you watch your boyfriend fuss your dog whilst he tries his best to discipline. The bracelet you made him sits safe on his wrist: seashells and blue and white and silver beads framing the two letters JJ. It’s a sister bracelet to your own which JJ rather persistently requested you make: seashells and blue and white and silver beads framing your own initials. 

“You know,” you start to say, “I sometimes wonder if you’re with me for my dog.”

“You’re crazy.” Looking over to you, his grin is his tell. “I’m with you for your money.”

Gasping, you grab for one of the many, many throw pillows and toss it at him. JJ bats it away with a laugh. You continue your onslaught with JellyCat children and cushions and through your combined laughter, JJ crawls over to you, coaxing you onto your back, looming over you. You smile up at him. He’s pretty like this. No, he’s pretty whatever way you look at him. It’s like he’s the night sky. No matter where you are, when you are, how you view it: it’s breathtaking. 

“Hi,” you giggle. 

His blue eyes held so many layers of emotion, fragile like the casing of a bomb. They peer into your soul and you feel seen, truly seen, by him. 

“Hi.” 

His eyes glance down at your lips. This kiss is different. It’s slower and languid. He takes his time as if he’s mapping every muscle in your lips to memory. Sighing as he pulls away, you gaze up at him. The words fall out of some corner of your mind and topple out your mouth. 

“I want you to meet my parents.”

JJ’s smile flickers like a dying lightbulb. “What?”

“My parents,” you mumble, lifting a finger to stroke dotingly at the apple of his cheek. “I want you to meet them.”

“What? So you can see my execution up close?”

“JJ!”

Laughing, he rolls off you and lands by your side with a gentle thud. Rubbing at his face, he says, “babe, your parents are not gonna like me.”

“You don’t know that,” you say. He gives you a look that reads as ‘really?’ “JJ, my parents aren’t some stuck-up snobs.”

The look intensifies. 

“What? You think I’m a stuck-up snob?”

The look reaches its limit. Rolling your eyes, you gently bat at his face and he snorts. “Come on! I want you to meet them. And I know they want to meet you.”

Panic flashes across his face. “You told ‘em about me?”

“No, not fully. Just that I’m dating someone,” you say. “But the church is full of gossips so...”

“Pretty sure the bible frowns upon that,” he mumbles. 

“Well, tell that to Mrs Dulamy. But only if you want to lose a limb.”

JJ stares at the ceiling and you stare at him. You can hear Ranger at the foot of your queen-sized bed, sighing as though his life is filled with stress before he settles down to rest. You reach out and rest your hand on JJ’s chest, feeling the warmth of him through his shirt. His eyes slowly look over to you and you smile smally. 

“I just want them to meet the guy that I’m crazy about,” you quietly say. 

“You really think they’re gonna like me?” he asks you after a moment’s thought. 

“I think they know me well enough to know I wouldn’t fall in love with the wrong person,” you reassure him. “So, yeah, I think they’re gonna like you.”

JJ sighs and contemplates the offer. “When would this be?”

“Tuesday? They get back from their cruise Monday afternoon.”

“One dinner?” 

“One dinner.”

“What happens if I say no?” JJ wonders, his tone almost joking. 

The truth? You’d never force JJ to do something he didn’t want to do. You know this wasn’t his world. Family dinners and expensive parties and bible study-groups. He dipped his toes in as much as he felt comfortable when with you but you wouldn’t push him in, head first in the deep end. For now, you were more than happy to settle for the occasional pamper night and meal at the Wreck. Besides, his life was always more exciting than yours. As long as you got to keep your jewellery and make-up, you would happily be a Pogue. 

But for now, you pretend to seriously consider his question. “I won’t put out for a week.”

His mouth drops open in horror. “What?”

Shrugging, you roll onto your back. “Those are my conditions.”

“That’s blackmail!”

“No, it isn’t,” you say casually. “Blackmail is when I have something on you that I decide to hold against you.”

“Alright, well then it’s jus’ mean,” JJ replies. Giggling, you look at him. He begins to smirk. “Like you’d be able to go that long without it anyway.”

Quirking a brow, amused, you say, “you certainly think a lot of yourself.”

“I’m just goin’ off what I’ve heard,” he grins. Scrunching his eyes up, his voice goes up an octave as JJ mimics you. “Oh! Just like that, JJ! Feels so good!”

“Hey!” you laugh, lunging over and playfully attacking him. “I do not sound like that!”

“Harder, harder!”

JJ catches your wrists easily, stalling your lazy so-called hits. You shake your head, smiling down at him. 

“You look good like this,” he says. 

“You look good all the time,” you reply. 

“Damn straight, princess,” he grins, pulling you down so your lips meet his. Between kisses, he asks, “but really? What’s in it for me?”

“Apart from a nice meal?” you say. “I’ll let you take me fishing again.”

“Meh,” he shrugs. 

You look down at him with a small, sultry smile. “And I’ll let you do that thing you like.”

A grin slowly unfurls on his face. His kiss is overly hard and passionate and it makes you laugh against him, as he somehow spins the two of you so you’re on your back once more. Before JJ can do things that will make you forget your own name, he gives his answer. 

“Sold.”

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

The musty smell of aged wood and cold stone floors somehow compliments the overpowering notes of designer perfume that exudes off the girls you sit between. They sit in their Sunday bests; hair styled to perfection without a single strand out of place, their  heads hung in prayer. The wooden pews are uncomfortable and your throat is dry from the air conditioning. Your lips move absentmindedly through the prayers that you’ve been saying for as long as you were able to form words. 

“In Jesus’s name we pray. Amen,” you say in unison with the others. Lifting your head, you watch Father Jude walk up to the ornate podium. There’s a peaceful, friendly smile on his weathered features. 

“Father Jude talks like it’s going out of fashion,” Bethany mutters. The girls snort and giggle under breath and your own lips twitch in a small smile, not necessarily disagreeing. 

“He’s kind of a DILF though, don’t you think?” Ashley whispers. You cringe. 

“Ashley, that is so gross,” Daisy sniggers. 

Bethany, Ashley and Daisy. The Bible Bitches, as JJ had lovingly deemed them. 

“And we ask, Lord, won’t you guide us to be truthful? For is it not the teachings of the bible - is it not the word of Jesus Christ himself - that we should be truthful to ourselves, not only to others?” Father Jude preaches. 

“Psst.”

You look to your left and meet Ashley’s gaze. Her eyes are doe-like but they aren’t innocent. They fit well on her love-heart shaped face. In hushed tones, she asks, “is it true that you and Maybank are, like, official now?”

You nod. An unfamiliar smile appears on her face. It prickles you like a thorn. “How do you find him?”

Brows tugging, unsure of her meaning, you shrug. “Usually at his friend’s house.”

“No, no,” she sighs. “I mean, how do you find him in bed? Is he kinda freaky with it or…”

Your temper ticks just enough for a sharp rush of adrenaline to wash through your veins. Saving you having to catch your tongue. Bethany leans over to whisper, “Ashley, are you seriously talking about sex in the church right now?”

“You’re unbelievable,” Daisy giggles, thumbing her pearl necklace. 

“What! I’m just asking the important questions!” Ashley replies, grinning like there’s some great joke at play. 

Your face contorts in disgust and disapproval. 

“Just as Ephesians says, 4:25. Therefore each of you must put off falsehood and speak truthfully to your neighbour, for we are all members of one body.”

Her brows twitch up as she licks leisurely at her teeth. Before she speaks, you know you won’t like whatever she’ll say next. “Just trying to get a group census for her boytoy.”

“Shush!”

Startling in your seats, you all turn to meet the eyes of one of the longtime church attendees. Her elderly features are downturned in disapproval, probably much like your own. 

“Sorry, Mrs Dulamy,” Ashley whispers, turning back to the front with the others. The girls erupt in barely stifled giggles and you do your best not to roll your eyes. You don’t want to feed into unnecessary drama which would circulate for the next week. It’s easier to pretend like you enjoy their fraudulent friendship. They were the kind of kooks JJ hated. The kind that thought Pogues were bred to mow lawns and buss tables, and the kinds who would borderline emotionally abuse their boyfriends to get gifts out of them. Daisy would console you in one moment and then recount the story with fabricated fill-ins within the next. Ashley would pick and choose who was her favourite depending on who had the best social footing. You trusted Ashley as far as you could throw her. Bethany was the most bearable of the trio. You’d confide in her the most, though only bits and pieces which would do no harm if they were to make it into Figure Eight. Before, you settled for their questionable morals to have company, but now you have the Pogues and have experienced real, true friendship, and it was as if you saw the Bible bitches in a whole new light. The rose coloured glasses were off. 

Father Jude smiles lovingly at the gathering of people. “So, I ask of you all, to live life in truth, and encourage others to live truthfully too. As the Proverbs say: an honest witness tells the truth, but a false witness tells lies.”

Hums and approving nods occur across the room like an unnatural current. The girls stay quiet for the rest of the service and the conversation doesn’t pick up until after closing prayers. As the bells chime for midday and everybody rises to leave, Daisy speaks first. 

“So, my parents are out on Thursday night. I was thinking about a bible study?”

Bible study was code for girls’ night. Someone would sneak their parent’s wine and you’d all drink and bitch and occasionally glance down at your bibles. 

“I’m in,” Bethany nods. 

“Sure,” Ashley agrees. She looks over her shoulder at you and flashes you this Cheshire cat grin. “I wanna hear about Pogue boy.”

“I’ll see if I can come,” you say, shooting a not-so-subtle glare at Ashley. “My parents get back tomorrow so they might want some family time.”

It was a half-truth. You would much rather spend your time with JJ, either with or without the added company of the Pogues. The pair of you were a little attached at the hip. As Daisy and Bethany discuss the latest episode of the Bachelor, you follow the stream of people out into the streets of North Carolina. The sun beats down hard on the concrete. Fans appear to manifest out of thin air as church goers fan themselves. Your eyes search the space for JJ and you find him waiting for you across the street, looking like some James Dean heartthrob from the fifties. He leans against his red dirt bike; toned, sun kissed skin delectable under a white t-shirt. Dressed in cargo shorts and combat boots, as if his beauty wasn’t enough to have him stand out from the others. You smile at the sight of him, smitten all over again. 

“Damn. He looks good in white,” Ashley mutters. 

Despite your jealousy, she isn’t wrong. Turning to them, you say, “I’ll see you guys later” and then gladly cross the street to meet JJ. 

“Hey,” you smile. You close the gap between the two of you and loop your arms around his shoulders. Mostly for yourself but partly to remind Ashley who JJ belongs to, you push up onto your toes and press a kiss to his lips. They’re salty from the sea and grainy from the sand. He smells like aftershave and sunscreen and a hint of weed. One of his hands comes to rest on your waist. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Well, you have a promise to keep,” JJ reminds you. His fingers toy with the fabric of your dress. The length of it sits just above the knee, the neckline shy of being too revealing for a Sunday service. You garnished yourself with jewellery: earrings and layered necklaces and a thick bracelet. “You look pretty.”

Your cheeks grow warm at the easy compliment but you try to play it cool. “You helped me get dressed.”

“Think helped might be a strong word,” he grins. It was true. If anything, he hindered the process. Looking over your shoulder, he gives a slight nod. “Your pack is watching.”

Glancing over, you make out the Bible Bitches ogling with the rest of the gaggle of church attendees. Mr and Mrs Mantash stand out in their cream yellow attire, murmuring to one another, eyes trained on you and your boyfriend. Rolling your eyes as you look back to him, you change topic. “Fishing?”

“Fishing,” JJ confirms. 

You take your usual spot behind JJ on his bike. Arms looping around his waist, you tether yourself to his firm middle. You can remember the first time you rode on his bike. The adrenaline spike and the hammering heart as JJ raced the two of you down the roads. Now, it’s as second nature to you as hopping on a bus. JJ revs the engine to spite the spectators and you giggle. Then, the two of you take off down the road, away from Figure Eight and out towards the Cut. You watch the scenery zip past you as the wind creates a dull sting in your eyes. Under his shirt, you can feel JJ’s stomach tense at every dip and corner. The stifling nature of the kook bubble you’ve lived most of your life in fades with every yard and as it does, you feel as though the air gets lighter and your lungs get wider. 

The two of you park in a small lot beside a walkway. It leads down to a wooden pier that's immersed in a scenic marsh. The greenery spans across the water and expands out as far as you can see, perfectly outlining avenues of water that house gators and fish. JJ’s fishing gear is already set up. It’s a quiet spot that few know about aside from locals and it seems JJ has a good enough relationship with the regulars to trust his rig won’t get stolen. Besides, he’d probably just steal it back. His hand is clammy in your hold, the metal of his rings warm against your fingers. Then begins the dance of prepping the rods. You watch over his shoulder as he messes with hooks and lines. 

“You remember how to do this from the last time I showed you?” JJ asks you. His fingers work meticulously at the hook as he fastens it to the line and rod. You’re mesmerised by his intricacy, thoughts happily wandering towards the gutter. 

“Sort of,” you mumble, not fully present. 

“A’right,” he hums. “Pass me the bait.”

You do as he asks and retrieve a small, pink shrimp. Your mind immediately makes the connection and at your dawdling, JJ turns to look at you as you begin to giggle. Gently puppeting the shrimp, through your laughter, you imitate in a strange, high-pitched voice: “and the other thing is, my sister had a baby and I took it over after she passed away, and the baby lost all its legs and arms and now it’s just a stump but–”

Rolling his eyes, grinning, JJ takes the shrimp from you. “Such a dork.”

You laugh and wipe your fingers on his shirt, drawing another chuckle from him. 

“You watchin’, baby?” he checks. You nod and calm yourself and watch as he hooks the shrimp onto the hook. Holding the rod out to you, you take it with your free hand and wait as JJ sorts out his own rod. Soon enough, you’re guided on how to throw the line into the water. Then, your favourite part: the waiting. Rods lying against the railing of the pier, you and JJ stand side by side, your head resting on his chest. He’s vaping a dab pen and the mango-infused vapour pleasantly scents the air before the two of you. Your feet are turned in towards him like tree roots searching for safety. Birds coo and call in the distance, sweeping over the water and teasing the fish below the surface. The sky's spotless blue and bright with daylight. You feel a little guilty for breaking the serenity of the moment. 

“So…You going to finally tell me why Rafe and his gang of fairies wanted to kill you and Pope the other day?”

JJ’s breathing stutters, though you wouldn’t notice if it weren’t for your ear against his chest. “Like they need a reason to be dicks.”

“They don’t,” you hum in agreement. “But neither do you, so.”

“So?”

“They don’t pick fights for absolutely no reason.”

“Hm,” JJ says, clearly not in full agreement. 

“You can tell me anything. You know that, right? Like, I’m always going to be on your side,” you remind him quietly. JJ’s hand finds your hip easy and he squeezes. 

“I know,” he mutters. “Jus’ don’t want you thinking less of me.”

“Less of you how?”

“I don’t always make the right decisions,” JJ says, almost embarrassed. Snorting, you glance up at him. 

“Like I didn’t know that?” JJ’s bemused furrowed brows prompt you to continue. “JJ, we went to Sunday school together. I think you hold the record for being kicked out of class.”

“Fair point.”

A breeze comes and it’s a nice excuse to inch slightly closer. Rafe’s threat to you hasn’t escaped your mind. Knowing that the gang still had their aims set on yourself and JJ, and the other Pogues too, obviously didn’t thrill you. But that came with the gig. Avoiding an obnoxious asshole was a pretty small side-effect to a drug like JJ Maybank. So, to lighten the mood, stepping away from him, you plant your hands on your waist and jut your chin up. “Well, I’ll protect you if anything else happens. I’m an armed woman now.”

Raising a brow, smiling, JJ says, “you gonna protect me, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nod. 

“But then who’s gonna protect you?” With that, he grabs at you and tosses you over his shoulder. Screeching, giggling, smacking lightly at his back, JJ wanders over to the railing. 

“Put me down, Maybank! Put me down!”

“Can’t hear you princess!” JJ loudly remarks. “Maybe you ought’a pray for help.”

“I’ll scream!”

“Knock yourself out,” JJ smugly says. But you don’t. You just laugh and continue to natter for him to put you down and after he pretends like he might throw you in, he relents. You gaze up at him, your limbs still tethered. 

“I’ve got your back,” you say, breath now caught, laughter contained. “I trust you.”

“I know,” JJ nods. He’s visibly uneasy by your brazen honesty. You get the feeling that he’s not used to someone being so openly in love with him. So carefree in their affection. So willing to show it.

“I love you," you smile.

A smile come fights onto his face. As he dips his head and your eyes slip shut, anticipating the familiar feel of his lips on yours, he pauses. Then: “yo! Yo! You got’a bite!”

“Huh?” you ask, opening your eyes. 

“Fish on!”

You swiftly turn to your rod to see it twitching, telling of a bite. Gasping, you rush to grab at the handle and awkwardly manoeuvre your hands in the way JJ taught you. He hovers by your side, his larger hands shadowing yours. 

“You remember how I showed you right?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” you mumble, brows furrowed in concentration as you try to reel in your catch. But your arms start to ache and you feel as though the line is endless. “I can’t do it, JayJ.”

“You can, you can,” he encourages. “Reel it in faster, baby.”

“I can’t!” 

“A’right, give it here.”

JJ’s hands are warm as they encase your own. You let JJ do most of the work as he pulls the fish in, and the grunts of effort beside your ear should not be as erotic as they are given the moment and your saintly Sunday start. Soon enough, the line reaches its end and a fish emerges through the water, hanging from the hook. You giggle excitedly at the sight. 

“That’s what I’m talking ‘bout, baby! Woo!” JJ whoops. “Get the net, get the net!”

You scramble and do as he says, ducking under his arm. You hang the net just below the fish and help JJ guide your catch onto the pier. There, JJ tactfully removes the fish from the hook and holds it up. The grin on his face is like a schoolboy who just scored his first goal. He’s radiant like this. You smile wider, prouder. 

“Hell yeah! That’s a flounder right there baby! Hell of a boy too!” JJ gloats. Laughing, body thurming with excitement and adrenaline, you watch as JJ preps the catch for the cooler. Once everything is squared away, JJ strides over to you and captures your cheeks between his hands. His lips press to yours in a short kiss and you giggle and groan, trying to squirm out of his hold. 

“Ew, JJ, your hands are all fishy,” you carp. “S’gonna ruin my make-up.”

“Bite me,” JJ grins, kissing you again. It’s a good way to quell your complaining. Good way to derail your thoughts, too. 

Later, after John B has picked the two of you up (JJ riding the bike home), the two of you find yourselves shoulder to shoulder at the kitchen counter of the Chateau (though JJ is a good head taller than you). The pungent smell of fish makes you feel as though you’re fifty feet below the ocean’s surface. The flounder is squishy under your fingers, soggy from the cooler it had been kept in. When JJ’s knife makes a small incision by the fish’s eye, you gag and look away. 

“Oh my God, JJ, that’s so gross,” you mumble. 

He sniggers. “Jus’ nature.”

You hesitantly glance back down at the fish to see JJ make another incision with the blade. And then, the fish twitches. You shriek and JJ jumps, thankfully not slicing off any fingers in the process, cussing up a storm. 

“It’s alive!” you exclaim. 

“Barely! It’s just a reflex,” JJ loudly replies, shaking his head. One of his hands (slimy with fish guts) reaches for yours and guides your fingers back to the body. “Come on. You said you wanted to do this.”

He wasn’t wrong. You, in fact, insisted. He warned you that he didn’t think you’d like it but you hated being thought of as incapable, even if that wasn’t how he meant it. Stubbornness was a family trait. You could wear pink and talk about politics. You could plie and prepare a fish…maybe…

“Oh my God, oh my God,” you mutter, alternating between swallowing and gagging. Your acrylic nail slips under the top layer of the creature’s skin. JJ laughs, guiding your fingers as if puppetering. 

“You’re fine,” he sniggers. 

“I didn’t think it’d be so…gruesome.”

“It’s a fish.”

“It’s disgusting,” you mither. At the feel of something squishy and spongy under the tip of your finger, your hand comes flying out and you practically dance away from the fish as you squirm. “No, no, nopity, no.”

Laughing, JJ shakes his head and turns back to the fish, finishing the job. You head to the sink to clean your hands. “You kooks crack me up. Bet you think theses things come outta the water already baked and broiled, huh?”

“Har har,” you sarcastically quip, scrubbing at your hands. You study the underbeds of your nails to find fish gunk all up them. Whining, you say, “these are a fresh set of acrylics, JJ.”

“Hey - you’re the one that wanted me to have dinner with your parents,” he says with a shrug. 

Wiping your hands dry on a questionably clean dish towel, you lean your back against the counter and watch your boyfriend. “I didn’t know how much I’d have to sacrifice, clearly.”

You take the few steps towards him and wrap your arms around his middle, cradling his back against your front. You press a kiss to his shoulder blade. One of JJ’s hands lands atop of your own and squeezes softly, and it’s so sweet that you can’t even be annoyed that he just got fish slime all over your freshly washed hands. You lean against him as he continues to work on prepping the fish: the muscles of his back rippling and rolling with the movement of his arms and wrists. This close, the indescribable smell of JJ washes away that of the flounder. It somehow calms and turns you on all at once. Here, like this, you’re happy. Being with JJ was like stepping into a secret oasis, free of prying eyes and callous whispers. You knew introducing JJ to your parents was going to shift things slightly. It would set it in stone: you’d made your choice, and your choice was a Pogue. You were ready for that change but you worried that maybe JJ wasn’t. I guess only time would tell. 

The front door to the chateau creaks open and you glance over to find Kiara walking in. 

“Sup guys,” she greets. 

“Sup,” JJ replies, not bothering to turn. 

“What’re you guys doing?” she wonders, walking over. You untangle yourself from JJ and lean against the counter. 

“JJ’s showing me how to prepare a flounder.”

“You guys go fishing?”

“Yep.”

“This one caught her first fish,” JJ chimes in proudly. 

Scoffing, you shake your head as you look at Kie. “Barely. It bit my rod and JJ’s the one that pulled it in.”

“Under your supervision,” JJ adds. “Officially a fisher girl now.”

“A flounder’s a pretty decent catch, too,” Kiara praises, glancing over her friend’s shoulder. “Nice one, princess.”

Yes, it seemed the princess nickname had stuck with everyone. It didn’t bother you all that much. You were rather prissy compared to them. You hated getting dirt under your nails and would see red if there was a beer stain on your shirt. Any excuse to wear heels and often dressed in skorts or skirts. No matter how late, you had to do your full skincare regime. At first they teased and poked fun but they never insulted you. It was just part of your personality. 

“You guys eating here?”

“Actually, I should head back soon,” you say, glancing to the clock on the wall. “My parents should be home by now.”

“Dutiful daughter duties call,” JJ remarks. You poke him and grin at his squirming. One of your favourite discoveries of JJ Maybank? He was insanely ticklish. 

“We should probably head to Heyward’s soon, too,” Kiara says. “Promised we’d give them a hand with deliveries, remember?”

“Damn. I forgot 'bout.”

You take that as your cue to leave. Reaching a hand up to JJ face, you turn his head towards you and push up onto your toes. 

“See you,” you say, kissing him quick. 

“Later,” he replies. You wave politely to Kie in farewell and head to the door. Just before you pass through it, you call JJ’s name and wait for him to turn and face you. You point at him. 

“Tomorrow. What time?”

“Six.”

“On the dot.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismisses, waving a hand, turning back to the fish. You look at Kiara and she grins. 

“I’ll make sure he gets there on time.”

“Hey!”

“Thank you,” you smile, satisfied. With that, you make your way home. 

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

You pace the hallway of your house. Your eyes glance to the clock that hangs on the wall, crowded by framed pictures of yourself and your family. He’s late. Ten minutes late. Sighing, nervously twiddling your fingers, you glance from the front door, to the sitting room door (where your mom is lounging), to the office (where your dad is thankfully occupied by a business call). You knew your boyfriend wasn’t very timely, but surely tonight he would know the gravity of it. The importance of it. 

“Come on, JJ,” you mumble, glancing to the front door once more as if manifesting for it to knock. 

Ranger slowly trundles into the hallway, his tail wagging slowly, half-asleep. He rubs against your leg asking for pets and, as if sensing your anxiety, gives a sympathetic whine. Scratching as his head, you sigh. 

“I know, boy. He’ll be here.”

As if on cue, the door cracks open. JJ eases it open and steps in cautiously, and your head lolls back as you exhale in relief. 

“Finally!” you say to the ceiling, eyes slipping shut. Walking over to him, you press the door shut and grab his wrist, tugging him behind you through the house. “I thought you knew I was serious when I said you needed to be on time, JJ. This is a big deal, alright? You’re lucky my dad has been on a call for the past ten minutes!”

At his silence, you take pause at the bottom of the staircase and look at him. 

Your mouth parts in horror at the sight. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe. 

His lip is cracked, the half-heeled, ruby red cut from his last scuff up broken, now accompanied by a second fresh wound. His face is discoloured. Cheeks a muddy brown and plumish purple, with bruising on his cheekbone encircling a cut. There’s another impressive bruise by his brow, and a third near his mouth. His eyes are what sadden you the most. The hollow, gaping impression of them, as if he’s retreated somewhere inside of himself, the brightness snuffed out. His teeth and clenched and jaw tight. You immediately feel guilty for chewing him out. 

“Oh my God, JJ. What happened?” you ask, reaching a hand up to cup at his face, as if needing to confirm he isn’t some kind of apparition. He bats your hand away dismissively. 

“It’s nothin’, a’right? Let’s get this fuckin’ thing over with, yeah?”

You frown, keeping your hands to yourself. “JJ. Don’t be like that.”

“Like what? I’m here, ain’t I?”

Sighing, shaking your head, you take his hand in yours and guide him up the stairs and to your bedroom. Ranger sneaks in before you close the door. He lingers by JJ’s legs as JJ takes a seat on the edge of your bed. It seems Ranger calms him, nuzzling his head into JJ’s palm, demanding affection. Leaning against your door, folding your arms across your chest, you study JJ a moment. He’s shaken up but trying to hide it. It reminds you of how he was after Rafe and his gang jumped him. You wonder if that’s who is responsible for these injuries, too. There’s some anger that lingers, hovering around him like a smoke, not yet to dissipate, and it worries you for the gravity of the night. 

“We don’t have to do this tonight, if you don’t want to,” you say gently. 

He shakes his head immediately, eyes trained on Ranger’s panting face. “It’s a’right. I’ve been through worse.”

“Funnily enough that isn’t particularly reassuring, JJ,” you sigh. “I’m sorry for tearing into you like that. If I’d have known–”

“--I just wanna forget about it, a’right?” JJ says, almost snapping but not. He looks at you and nods, and tries a smile that looks queasy. “I know how important this night is for you. I don’t wanna use this as a get out.”

“It isn’t, though,” you say, crossing the room to him. Ranger makes space for you to stand in front of JJ, and he rests his head against your stomach. Your hands rub reassuringly at his upper back. “I want you to meet them when you’re ready for it, y’know?”

“I know,” he says against your dress. “You look pretty by the way.”

Rolling your eyes, smiling, you say, “thanks, JayJ.”

“I'm sorry. I wanna meet them,” he says. Pulling away, he looks up at you and gives a sheepish smile. “You got some sorta magic potion that can fix me up.”

Grinning, as if you’re a nineties movie character who has just been granted the permission to give a makeover, you eagerly nod. JJ chuckles at how you rush for your make-up bag. Taking a spot beside him on the bed, you use every trick in the book to help cover up JJ’s wounds, careful not to be too brutal in your craft. 

“Don’t tell John B about this,” JJ mumbles as you blend out the concealer. 

“God forbid a man wears make-up,” you sarcastically murmur back. 

“I’ve got a reputation to keep, y’know?”

“Mhm. Think you lost that reputation when you started dating a kook,” you giggle. 

He grins. “Nah. Just made me even more of a staple, really.”

Rolling your eyes, amused, you say, “be quiet so I can finish this off. We’re already late for dinner.”

“You want me to get changed?” he asks. “You’re dressed up all nice.”

“I’m always dressed up all nice,” you tell him. It’s true: you’re wearing a new dress that you got in the sale from Miu Miu; your hair styled to the nines; the brightest, bestest jewellery you own; and, of course, JJ’s bracelet. JJ sits in his usual attire: a graphic t-shirt that reps one of Kildare’s many local establishments, a pair of shorts that are kissed with dust and seasalt, and his combat boots. 

“You want me to, though?”

“No,” you say. “I want them to meet JJ. Not JJ.” 

At the pompous accent you put on the pronunciation of his name, JJ laughs and nods, and bows his head almost bashfully, as if holding your eyesight is too intimidating for a moment. 

“We should probably go and face the music,” you quietly tell him. 

Taking a deep breath, JJ nods and juts his chin up. “How’d I look?”

“Handsome as ever,” you smile. Careful not to hurt his wounds or rub at your work, you pinch his chin in your hand and guide his lips to yours for a quick kiss. 

“Promise me this won’t change anything between us?” JJ whispers. 

“I promise,” you reassure him. 

Nodding, JJ gets to his feet with a grunt and encases your hand with his own. Ranger perks up at the sudden spike in energy, eagerly guiding the way to your door, then down the stairs and into the hall. As you pass the doorway into the sitting room, you feel JJ free his hand from your hold. 

Your mother and father sit like something from a Victorian portrait. They’re in an armchair each, on either side of the fireplace, a haunting orange glow illuminating the sides of their profiles. Your mother is drinking coffee from a fancy glass-mug; her hair hung in such perfect, symmetrical ringlets around her face, it’s as if she slept with coca cola bottles in them. Your father is the picture of success: dressed in a Gucci suit, not a wrinkle or crease in sight, his grey hair stark but not unflattering. They’re not making it easy to be unintimidated by them. 

“Darling!” your mom croons. She beckons the two of you over. “We were wondering where you two got to!”

“Sorry, mom,” you smile, crossing the room to her. She presses a kiss against each of your cheeks. Then, she ushers JJ near. 

“Yeah, sorry, Mrs T,” he says, clearing his throat. “I, uh, got caught up at work.”

“Well, there’s worse things in life than a boy who knows the importance of work,” your dad says. 

Your mom smiles dotingly at JJ, extending out a hand. “It’s wonderful to meet you, JJ.”

“You too, Mrs T,” he says, shaking her hand. 

“Oh, don’t call me that! Mrs T was my heinous mother. I’m Pam,” she light-heartedly tells him. 

“Well, alright, ma’am,” JJ nods. He turns to your dad next, who feels the need to rise from his seat as if Jesus Christ himself has demanded him to. A hand is thrust out like a bayonet. 

“Pleasure, JJ. Good to put a face to the boy who caught our daughter’s eye,” he says. JJ takes his hand and gives a firm shake, and you’re weirdly proud of how well he’s holding up. He must be terrified. You know how much he hates Kooks. Feels stifled when he’s around too many of them; judged and belittled, despite their charity and kindness. You can’t ever empathise, but you can certainly sympathise. “Call me Patrick.”

“Well, I think it’s time for some dinner, how about it?” your mom says. 

“Oh, I think that’s a wonderful idea, darling,” your dad agrees. They lead the way out of the room to the dining room, and you linger back with JJ. 

“You okay?” you check. 

“Could definitely do with a drink after this,” JJ only half-jokes, nervously smiling at you. 

You smile. “You’re doing amazing. They already like you.”

“Don’t give me false hope. Now come on,” JJ says, following after your parents. 

The table is set as though it’s Christmas dinner, or perhaps even the last supper. Impressive candles stand in even more impressive candle holders, and the runner is pure satin. The fancy china is out alongside the fancy wine glasses. JJ takes the seat beside you, opposite your father, and yourself opposite your mother. 

“Wine, JJ?” your dad asks, pouring himself a glass. 

“Oh, no thanks, sir. I’m seventeen,” JJ politely says. You have to hide your smile behind your own glass of water, taking a sip to walk down the humour. JJ drank like a fish. 

“Good man,” your dad says, winking at him. Another test passed. 

The door opens and the chef brings through the loaded plates. He places them in front of everybody one by one. 

“We’ve been told steak is your favourite,” your mother says to JJ. 

He glances at you, slightly surprised, then recovers and smiles. You’ve never seen his spine so straight before. “Uh, yeah. Thanks. Um - I mean, thank you.”

“Of course,” she smiles. You look down at your plate. Medium-rare steak, of the finest cut, smothered in peppercorn sauce and accompanied by steamed vegetables and homemade garlic butter. It smells delectable, mouth-wateringly attractive in its layout. Hands are interlocked, grace is said, and then everybody begins to eat. In the corner of your eye, you see JJ wince as the cut on his lip stretches too wide. 

“So, JJ. You say you have a job?”

“Uh, yes sir,” JJ says. “Usually odd jobs but I have a pretty steady gig at the golf club, which is nice. I busboy there.”

“Honest work, that is,” your dad says, tipping his glass in approval at him. “Honest and good work. I think it’s important people learn the importance of working, don’t you darling?” 

“Oh, absolutely, darling,” your mom agrees. 

You see JJ stiffen in your peripheral and instinctively your hand reaches for his leg, hidden under the table. You squeeze his knee reassuringly. They don’t realise how tone deaf they sound. How backhanded it is to say such a thing whilst eating a dinner that cost at least sixty dollars, dressed in nothing but designer threads. 

“Our little pumpkin tells us you’re pretty good with your hands though,” your mother says oh-so-innocently. 

Your face feels hot as a boiling kettle and your eyes shoot down to your plate. You can imagine JJ’s smirk perfectly: the picture of coy and cocky. 

“Oh, really? Little pumpkin, said that, huh?” JJ says. 

“Oh yes,” your mom says, blind as a bat to the innuendo. “She says you’re good with all sorts of mechanical mumbo-jumbo.”

“I’m pretty good with it, yeah. My dad taught me everything I know. He’s the better one at fixing up motors and stuff like that,” JJ says, his voice taking on a weird sort of edge, the thought of his father brings up a strange myriad of emotions. 

“Your father, eh? That’s, uh, Luke, isn’t it?” your dad says, swirling his wine. 

“Yes, sir,” JJ eventually says. 

“Ah. I went to school with him, back in the day. He always had a knack for getting caught up in the wrong sort of thing,” your dad absentmindedly says. 

“Dad,” you lowly say, shooting him a look. He seems to remember himself. Clears his throat and shakes his head. 

“I apologise, JJ. I didn’t mean to offend,” your dad says. 

“Not at all sir,” JJ replies, but it’s stifled, like the lid on a shaken bottle of fizzy pop. Desperate for a hand, you look to your mom. She brightens up and chimes in. 

“Oh! The midsummer’s ball is right around the corner! I imagine it’s been all hands on deck at work, getting things ready for it, hm?” 

“Oh, you better believe it,” JJ chuckles, nodding. Then, your mom makes a noise like an elephant trying its first toot of its horn. It alarms everyone, catches their attention. 

“Darling! I just had the most splendid idea!” your mom bursts out. Your head shoots up, mouth full of half chewed food. “You should take JJ along with you as your date!”

You chew and chew. Swallowing, glancing at JJ, you nervously laugh. “Oh, um, I don’t know if it’s really his kind of thing, mom.”

“Come now! Some nice food and nice music. An excuse to get all dressed up. What’s not to like?”

Dressed up? She clearly doesn’t read JJ very well, sat in his well-worn t-shirt, hair an enticing mess (cap begrudgingly abandoned). Just to put the matter to rest, you oblige, placing a hand on JJ’s leg as you do in hopes he’ll track the secret message of, ‘don’t worry - you don’t have to!’

“Maybe, mom. Maybe we will,” you say. 

The rest of the dinner passes with little hitch. If anything, it’s almost mundane. Your mother tells embarrassing stories that have you cringing and JJ laughing; your father recalls anecdotes from the office that are only mildly boring. JJ even starts to share some of his own tales. A car he helped to fix up, which prompts your dad to tell him about his classic car collection - offering JJ a tour some day, and even a drive around, which certainly appeals to your boyfriend. Another story about you, from when you went cliff jumping. Your parents are visibly taken aback. They can’t seem to imagine you hurling yourself off a cliff, down and down into water. Your mother even says something like ‘good grief’ when JJ recounts the tale. 

“Will you be staying for dinner, JJ?” your mom asks as you all depart from the living room, full and fed. 

“Uh, I should get going,” JJ says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Got people to see and things to do, y’know?”

“Busy, busy,” your mom beams. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, glancing down. The make-up has started to fade, teasing at the bruise that’s likely only worsening on his handsome face. 

“Well, it’s been wonderful to meet you, JJ,” your mom says, meaning every word. 

“Likewise,” he says. “Y’all have a lovely home. And thank you also, for the dinner. It was fuc– Uh…It was freaking amazing.”

“You keep that good head on your shoulders,” your dad tells him, sticking out his hand once more, though this time far less threateningly. “And take good care of our daughter. She’s pretty taken by you.”

“Dad,” you grumble, embarrassed. 

“I will sir. I’ll keep her safe, I swear,” JJ assures, shaking his hand. The four of you stand a moment before you speak. 

“I’m gonna walk JJ out.”

With that, the two of you make for the front door, leaving your parents in the sitting room with their bids of good will and safe journeys home. He’s a stride or so ahead as you pass the hall. His toned back enticingly sways under his shirt. The two of you linger on the doorstep, outside the closed front door. The summer evening air is muggy and morish. JJ retrieves his vape and takes a hit or two to calm any persisting nerves from the dinner. 

“How you feelin’?”

“Like I just survived a mugging,” JJ says, making you laugh. He seems to like your laugh. He starts to smile. 

“They liked you.”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, certain. “My dad especially.”

“Your dad’s scary as fuck.”

“He is not!”

Shrugging, disagreeing, JJ takes another drag of his vape. He looks down at you then, smiling to himself, sleepy. “You sneaking out to the chateau later?”

“You want me too?”

“Is that even a question?” he asks, quirking a brow. Grinning, playful, you reply: 

“Well, a girl likes to feel wanted.”

Shaking his head, amused, perhaps even smitten, JJ leans against the wall of the cove of the entryway. He watches you for a moment. 

“You gonna tell me who banged you up like that, then?” you broach, eyeing his just concealed injuries. They’re more obvious, gleaming through, in the doorway light’s fluorescent. 

“Why? You gonna go vigilante on ‘em?” JJ smirks. 

Rolling your eyes, you say, “don’t kid, JJ. I don’t like seeing you all black and blue.”

“Well, knowing me, you’re gonna have to get used to it, little pumpkin.”

“Oh good. That’s catching on,” you mumble. Laughing, JJ clears the gaping gap between the two of you with two shuffles of the feet. 

“It’s a cute nickname.”

“It is not becoming your new nickname for me.”

“Mm. We’ll see,” he says. He dips his head and kisses your lips, and it tastes like salt from the dinner in the most divine way. “Come to the chateau tonight, yeah?”

“Okay,” you murmur against his mouth, never being good at saying no to him. Another kiss, too short and too fleeting for your liking, and JJ steps away. Then, the matter comes back to you. You grab at his hand and stop him in place. “What my mom said, about the midsummer’s ball - you really don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I mean, of course it’d be nice if we went together, but I know that isn’t really your scene so…”

JJ winces, not quite torn but off put in disappointing you in some kind of way. Maybe your smile is reassurance enough for him to be honest. “I just can’t handle being around that many kooks, y’know? And the penguin suits and the blind ignorance? It’s just–”

“--I get it,” you assure, nodding, smiling. “It’s tone deaf.”

“People on the Cut still don’t have power from Aggie,” JJ says, “meanwhile Figure Eight are wasting their power on fairy lights. No offence.”

You shrug. You like midsummers: you weren’t going to lie about it. The dresses and the costumes; the community and the music; the sneaking drinks and the gossip that sparked. Most of kook life was lonely and insufferable but the party felt rather fun, most years. You imagine JJ would be delectable in a suit. His muscled-up arms brimming under a white dress shirt; legs hugged in the black iron-pressed trousers; hair combed and quiffed, still swooping over his forehead…But he wasn’t a ken doll. No, he was G.I. Joe. You weren’t going to wrangle him into a suit to play dress up and parade him around something that would only make him feel like he’s lost at sea. Besides, there was something magical, almost, in the way he was with you, out of the eyes of others, or in front of the Pogues - worry free of judgement. You liked that JJ, not the one that looked like he practised sitting with a ruler and waited for a misstep in conversation to casually degrade his entire family and upbringing. 

“That’s okay, JayJ,” you soothe. “You’ll just have to make peace with the fact that I’ll be looking fine as hell in front of those dumbass kook boys.”

“You already look fine as hell, every Goddamn day,” JJ chuckles. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, his voice dipping as he says, “and those dumbass kooks will know who to answer to if they forget who you belong to, huh?”

A thrill trickles down your spine. Giddy, you bite back your smile as JJ pulls away. There’s a knowing look on his face, as if he could hear the effect his words had on you. You hang onto his hand for as long as possible as he slowly backs away, down the front door steps. You give him a small wave farewell as he wanders over to his bike, and as he starts down your drive, you step back into your house. 

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

JJ’s skin is warm against your cheek. Your body shifts up and down with the steadying rise and fall of his chest. You’re both clammy, probably more so being cuddled together under the tousled sheets, and his skin smells of sweat and sex and seasalt. A finger toys with the shark tooth necklace that rests just shy of his heart. The mattress is uncomfortable so you prefer JJ's stomach. You can feel every spring pushing through the thin material and you contemplate buying him a mattress topper, sneaking it on when he's out surfing or working. But you know he'd tell the difference: know it'd upset him in a way that would come out as frustration. 'Charity'.

One of JJ's hands leisurely rubs at your bare thigh and whilst the action itself isn’t necessarily erotic, it keeps a gentle humming buzz through your bones like someone keeping an engine running in a car out front. 

“How many girls have you been with?” you wonder. 

JJ barks out a laugh. “Why'd you ask?"

“Just curious,” you say, glancing up at him with a cheeky smile. “I wanna know how I rank.”

He peers down at you through half hooded eyes. “Dumbass question. You know where you rank.”

“At the bottom, right?” you joke, raising your brows. 

Laughing, he shakes his head and gazes up at the ceiling. His hand squeezes at the flesh of your leg, somehow lovingly, somehow telling you, 'no, not at the bottom'. 

“Just gimme a ballpark figure.”

“C’mon!” JJ laughs. “You know I ain’t gonna do that. This is one of those traps you girls set to catch guys like me out.”

“No it isn't! I just want to know, I swear! May God be my witness.”

His laugh tells you that he’s not going to fess up anytime soon. Smirking, aware fully of your teasing, you say, “well, at least tell me if I’m the only Kook you’ve been with.”

“Baby–” He cuts himself off with another chuckle, but the way he looks at you this time gives you room for answer. Your mouth parts in an aghast smile, giggling as you point at his face. 

“I knew it! You’ve slept with another Kook before me!”

“Oh my God,” he says, shaking his head, amused, not denying. 

“Who was it!? Maybe I know them,” you ponder, curious. 

“Nobody special,” he tells you. “Nobody as special as you, anyway.”

“Aw. You passed the test,” you kid, pressing a kiss to his lips.

One of his hands captures the back of your head, his fingers sinking into your hair like fingers into bread dough, and he deepens the kiss. Licks lazily at your lips, his tongue brushing against yours. He tastes like the joint he was smoking when you made it to the Chateau (successfully sneaking out of your house), and the flavour maps itself into your memories so it will forever be tethered to the name JJ Maybank. Insatiable in bed, as if his hunger is contagious, your cunt throbs at the implication of JJ’s wandering hands. You part your legs just enough to let him slip a finger through your wet folds, stimulated and sticky from the last round. Lips parting from his, your head rests on his collarbone as he pushes through your already used hole. Soft moans slip through your lips like the susurrus of the wind. JJ kisses at your ear, nibbling at your earlobe, kitten-licking the helix. The sweet gentleness to his kisses juxtapose the way his fingers fuck into you. 

“So fuckin’ wet, baby,” he murmurs in his crooning, southern accent. “So fuckin’ wet for me, huh?”

“Just for you,” you dumbly breathe against his skin. Your body rocks against his hand instinctively, chasing the pleasure that has your vision going mushy. The metal of his rings against your swollen walls, just cool enough to push the buttons of your stimulation just right. His fingers curl and brush against you and it hits that spot that has you gasping out, practically humping his hand. It’s crazy that your man could make you feel this way. 

“That’s it, baby. Gimme one more, yeah, baby? Gonna gimme one more?”

“M’close,” you whimper. He doesn’t relent. Keeps his fingers pumping in and out, the lewd sounds feeling as though they echo in your head. You push out the thoughts of sin and blasphemy from your mind, recalling JJ’s own words when you confided in him about your worries of wronging the Lord. If he ain’t want you to feel good like this, he wouldn’t have given the human body the right. Instead, you choose JJ as your alter. 

A new pace sets in, merciless as he pounds his digits into you. Your eyes are sealed shut, noises that feel foreign falling into the abyss of the room. Praises drive you on, fed into your ear in a voice as sweet and thick as Tennessee Whiskey. 

“That’s it, baby. Be a good little girl and come for me, huh? Come on, I know you’re close.”

You clench around his fingers with a gasping whine. Feel yourself leak out pleasure, dribbling down your thighs, drunk on the dopamine. He softens his rhythm. Kisses pleasantly at your ear and neck, whispering sweet nothings in the way your fellow church goers mumble out their prayers. And as you feel yourself return to your body, a smile grows on your face. You were lovestruck: it had gone straight to your head.

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

The rolling slopes and green of the country club are perfectly trimmed; not a single blade out of sync. The smell of cut grass, recently hydrated from the hurricane the other week, seeps naturally into the aroma of the party. Liquor and juice mixers; fried clams; flowery fumes from the decorations. Amongst that is the perfumes and colognes of the guests, your own probably only adding to the fragrance of the Midsummer’s party. Wooden beams form rectangular archways, organised on the lawn, with wisteria and baby’s breath and lavender twirled around it, dangling down like something from a fairytale illustration. You glance around the gathering and search for familiar faces. There’s the Bible Biches, gathered with their parents. You spot Pope with his father at the food pop-up. Kiara’s talking to him. You like to think they’re your friends too - not just JJ’s - but something in the way they stand and talk, it seems personal and private. You decide not to pry. 

“You look beautiful, little pumpkin,” your mom tells you, catching your attention. You smile at her and let her fiddle with your hair, correcting some strands. “It’s a shame JJ couldn’t come.”

“I know. He’s busy though. Had to work,” you lie. 

“Well, I think it’s good that the boy knows priorities. Working is the world,” your dad nods. Your teeth grit. You know he means well when he says things like that, but working for JJ is synonymous with living. He didn’t have a choice. Still, you wish there was some truth to your words. JJ didn’t want to come to Midsummer’s but he never told you what he’d be doing instead. You feel the gap of his presence beside you and wonder if maybe you’re too joined at the hip. 

“I’m going to get a drink,” you say to them. They nod and catch eyes with the Mantashs, and you part from them. As you venture to the bar, you wedge yourself between people. 

“It’s just downright disrespectful,” a woman says. You glance curiously to your right and recognise Topper’s mother. “I mean, sinking someone’s property. It’s disrespectful.”

“It’s illegal, is what it is,” another woman agrees. Kelce’s mother. Their headdresses are ridiculous and over-the-top. 

“It isn’t surprising though. Those Maybank people are trouble with a capital T,” another woman remarks. That has your attention. You dip your head and listen in. 

“Still. Strange that he’d sink your boat without rhyme or reason,” Kelce’s mom says. 

“Like those delinquents need a rhyme or reason to cause chaos. That John B beat your son black and blue the other day, and then the Maybank kid had the nerve to pull a gun!”

“Well, I’m just glad we pressed charges. They arrested the Maybank kid just the other day, thank God. He owes us a restitution,” Topper’s mom gloats. “It’s about time they learn some consequences.”

You suddenly feel very, very sick. Your mouth is so full of saliva that a drink seems frivolous. You step away from the bar as if you’re already tipsy. The words arrested and restitution rattle around your head like a ping pong ball. JJ was arrested? When? She said only the other day, so it can’t have been that long ago. Why wouldn’t be tell you? Why didn’t he call you? You could have bailed him out; helped him cover the restitution. Is that why he was beaten when he came to your house the other day? Did the cops do that? No, no, they wouldn’t. Surely? Maybe Topper, again? But if Jj was arrested, that would be revenge enough, surely? The bombardment of questions doesn’t help the nausea so you step outside. Beneath the worry and the confusion is a sting of betrayal. He lied to you. Right to your face, several times. Hell, even last night, tangled in bed with him at the Chateau, he had the gall to look you in the face and omit all of it. You grip the railing of the porch and look out across the way. Kie and Pope are still talking. Do they know about all of this? You wonder about going over to ask but maybe they’re not supposed to tell, or maybe they don’t know themselves and you spark more drama. 

“You alright, pumpkin?” your mother asks, wandering over to you. You plaster on the smile you wear for dance recitals. 

“Mhm. Just a little stuffy in there, is all,” you say. More questions troop through your head. Does your mother know about this? Your father? You imagine not, given their earlier remarks about JJ. But will they? This town is small and this community is full of gossips. They liked JJ enough at dinner last night but you imagine that to change if they hear he was arrested for destruction of property. What did Topper’s mother say? ‘Sinking’? It must have been a boat that he sunk. You can’t imagine your dad to be willing to show his classic cars to a known convict. Your spiralling thoughts are interrupted by applause, and your head turns like everybody else’s to watch the Cameron family stroll through the doorway and onto the porch. The guests of honour. Rose is in a hot pink dress with a headdress that could poke somebody’s eye out. Sarah follows behind in a darling satin gown. You envy her hair and flower crown. Beside her is Rafe and your blood immediately turns cold. His baby blue suit does little to quell his intimidation. You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess. JJ’s absence - despite his secrecy and lies - has never felt so gaping.

The night twinkles on as the daylight dwindles. In the far distant, amongst the clouds are streaks of pink and orange and tangerine. The rest of the world is cast in a dusk-like blue. It’s so beautiful you can almost begin to relax. Almost. Kiara is with her parents and Pope with his father, and you feel as though you’ve been spending your night avoiding people. You nurse a glass of ginger ale and watch people under the warm glow of the fairy lights, dancing to the music of the live band. You wish JJ were here. He was a good dancer, when you got him going. 

“Hey! There you are!” Bethany giggles, rushing over to you. She grabs your hands in hers as Daisy and Ashley follow behind her. “Why are you all on your own?”

“Just not feeling it tonight,” you mumble, smiling smally. 

“Well, that’s silly,” Daisy says, hiccuping. You quirk a brow. She’s been on the sauce. “You should come dance with us!”

“And have some of this. It’ll perk you right up,” Ashley says with a coy smile, holding her glass out. You take it and have a sip. The taste of vodka hits your nose like cough medicine. You wince as you swallow, laughing as you hand it back. 

“Jesus! What the hell did you put in that?”

“Just that good stuff,” she grins. She was intolerable at times, but had her perks. Taking your now spare hand, she sways your arm. “Bethany and Daisy are right. Come have fun with us.”

Your eyes dart to Pope - busy at work with his dad - then at Kiara - hovering around her parents, almost sulking. You’d lost track of Rafe and his gang, but being enveloped with friends made you less of a target, you supposed. Besides, you could do with a pick-me-up after being blindsided by JJ’s apparent arrest. With that thought, you happily let the girls drag you out onto the ‘dance floor’. You sway to the music, hips moving to the beat, and laugh with the others as you take turns busting moves. Ashley passes around her drink and you’re happy to indulge, giggling at Daisy’s squiffy nature, and finally the night starts to brighten. 

Come on and hold me. Just like you told me, the singer belts. 

Bethany takes your hand and twirls you under her, the two of you laughing. Your dress swirls around your feet, the fabric moving like liquid, and you correct your flower crown that’s perched dainty on your head like a halo. Then, in your peripheral, you see a familiar silhouette. You slow your dancing, your brows tug together, and your eyes fall onto JJ. He’s dressed in a white button-up, covered by a waistcoat and bowtie. It doesn’t look ugly on him but it certainly is foreign. His hair is as untamed as always; face still healing from the mysterious bruises. The bracelet that you gave him is on his wrist and for some reason - maybe because of the alcohol - this infuriates you. Why is he here? To appease the girls and save their suspicion, you pretend to continue to dance, keeping a watch on where JJ goes. He approaches Sarah Cameron. Taps her on the shoulder, presses his finger to his lips at her confusion, dances whilst conspicuously handing her a folded note. Why the hell is he here? Jealousy trickles into the infuriation and confusion. You think back to last night, how he’s slept with another kook before you. Was it Sarah? No, surely not. 

Then, you spot him. In his baby blue suit, Rafe strides over to JJ. Your boyfriend turns to come face to face with him, backed by his posse. Your body stills with panic. You try to eavesdrop into their conversation but it’s impossible over the girls’ chatter and the music. Every noise starts to deafen like cicada buzz. Rafe has his hands on JJ’s arms, holding him in place, as Kelce talks to them. You think to the arrest, to Topper’s mom, to the outdoor movie altercation. JJ manages to break apart and backs away, and your body instinctively follows like a magnetic pull as he takes off running into the building. Your hands grab at your dress to lift it from the floor as you hurry after them. Inside, you see JJ in the far distance race through the building, shadowed by Rafe as his gaggle. When they filter into the men’s facilities, your panic peaks. Standing dumbly in the centre of the room, you look around and think of what to do. What to do? Do you get Kie? Pope? Your dad or mom? No, no, they’ll ask too many questions. Think! 

A security man hovers in the corner like a CIA agent, dressed in a black suit and tie. Yes! You rush over to him. “Sir! Sir! I need your help!”

“What’s wrong, miss?” he asks, brows tugging together.

“I need your help, please,” you jabber. You grab at his wrist and drag him after you, ignoring his mass of questions. “Somebody’s in danger!”

There’s a commotion behind the door of the men’s changing room. You follow behind the security guard as he strides in. You look around his arm to find JJ in a headlock by Kelce, Rafe looming in his face. Your breath catches in your throat. The security guard flickers the light of the room and they suddenly become aware that they’re not alone. From their distraction, JJ is able to shuck himself free. Kelce lends a hand chivalrously, shoving him away. 

“Gentlemen! Is there a problem?” the security guard asks, sauntering into the room. You stand just to his side in clear view, arms folded over your chest in a way that you hope looks intimidating, despite the anxiety that overrides every emotion in your body. 

“Oh. Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue,” JJ chatters, still panting. “I just– actually, yes. No, there is an issue.” He runs a hand through his hair and his eyes finally catch yours. That betrayal chips hard at your resolve when you lay your eyes on him, face to face. Maybe it reads through your gaze because he’s quick to look away. “Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in, right? Blatant disrespect for private property.”

“Yeah,” Rafe nods, scratching oh-so-casually at his ear. 

“I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir,” JJ tells the security guard. You can feel the guard’s temperament changing and your concern shifts for the millionth time that night. What the hell? JJ was the one getting beaten up? How is that fair? “But these young gentlemen…”

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce snaps, batting JJ’s hand away from his bowtie. 

“...uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do, escort me out of here,” JJ says, raising his hands as if to be placed in handcuffs. The security guard wastes no time in walking over, grabbing harshly at his wrist and dragging JJ. You want to protest but can’t seem to find the words. Your eyes survey the scene once more and Rafe catches your eye. A smirk shadows his menacing face. JJ glances after them as he’s pulled away. “All right. Fix that tie, son. You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun.”

“Tell your little girlfriend there that she looks pretty hot for a Pogue,” Rafe quips. Your stomach churns in disgust at the comment. JJ breaks free with that, a newfound anger overcoming him, and he strides over to break even. You dart forward with the security guard, trying to hold him back, and Kelce comes between them too, though with far less innocent intentions. Finally, JJ begins to leave. You follow after them, gnawing your lip in anxiety, and spare one last glance at the room of Kooks. Rafe catches your eye and winks. You quickly look away. 

“Hey! Be gentle with him!” you say to the security guard as he practically manhandles JJ through the room. Your boyfriend is rattled, high on adrenaline, and only seems to lean into chaos now. “Hey!”

“Look– Look, man, I can walk by myself. I got legs. Can you see that, brother?” 

“Come on.”

Outside, people look and leer. You follow after them both, protesting at the security guard, your worries melding into JJ’s taunts and complaints, all of which fall on deaf ears. JJ then swipes a drink from Mr Dunleavy which doesn’t help his situation, and you glance worriedly at the gathering of people who are watching everything unfold like a daytime drama. You wonder if your parents are watching too. 

“It’s okay, everybody! Do not panic!” JJ announces loudly to the room, raising his hands in mock surrender. You take pause on the stairs, watching it unfold, aware that you’re past the point of being able to help. “...Let’s hear it for them! Rose! Looking like Lady Liberty! It’s good to see you again.”

You think back to the other day, fishing on the dock, before you knew all that you know now. I don’t always make the right decisions. You feel as though you’re getting a first person demonstration of an example. This side of JJ is new to you. It’s hard to decipher how you feel. It’s like trying a new food for the first time; trying to worm your way through the flavours and textures, and coming to an impasse. 

“Let go of him!” Your head darts over to Kiara. “You can’t boot him! I invited him here.”

You don’t know what’s true anymore. Did she invite him? Didn’t you invite him also? But then why did he sneak over to Sarah? Your head hurts and it isn’t from the vodka. JJ takes advantage of the destruction and shoves the security guard away, with a hasty apology. He points at Kiara then. Talks as if you don’t even exist. 

“Hey! Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie,” he says. “Pope, you as well, all right?”

You watch it all unfold, invitation-less, and it feels isolating and dismissive. You stand like a ghost on the stairs and watch the Pogues gather together at the outskirts of the party. JJ doesn’t even spare you a glance as Kie runs over to him. He doesn’t spare you a glance as he takes her in his arms, spinning her around. Jealousy rears its ugly head yet again. They take off into the darkness, laughing and hollering, and you stand, forgotten and forlorn. And JJ doesn’t even spare you a glance. 

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

Ranger’s tail wags as you walk. He’s got a barely-there tug on the leash, guiding the way on your mid-morning walk through Kildare. It’s glorious today; the sun glad to shine after the storm last night. You wish you were more awake to enjoy it but after Midsummer’s, you barely got any rest. At first it was the mass of questions from the Bible Bitches. What was that? Why was he here? Why didn’t you go with them? Next, from your parents. Just created a scene. I wonder what the fuss was about. I thought you said he was at work. Finally, your own. The worst part? You had answers for nobody, including yourself. JJ hadn’t texted or called. The service was still dodgy after the hurricane so it wasn’t entirely his fault. Still, it didn’t sit well with you. None of this did. It felt the more time passed, the more you were left on the outside, looking through a window that was being concealed, one blind at a time. 

Ranger suddenly takes a diversion that has you frowning. You try and tug him back onto your main course but he’s insistent, leading the way down towards The Wreck. Well, you could do with a lemonade. You relent and let him do his thing. The Wreck is closed but you can hear voices from inside. You catch some phrases like 'Royal Merchant' and 'sweater vest', and before you can contemplate going in, JJ comes out. He’s in a muscle tee, showing off his muscular and slim frame. It’s not fair for him to look good when you’re mad at him. He seems surprised to see you there just as much as you are him. 

“Hey,” he says. “What’re you doing here?”

“Ranger must’ve heard you,” you say, nodding down to your joyful pup. As JJ approaches, his tail starts like a propeller, swinging back and forth. JJ fusses him and murmurs loving compliments at Ranger, and eventually looks up at you. You quirk a brow. 

“Is this about last night?”

“What’d you mean? Oh! You mean how you randomly showed up to Midsummer’s, gave Sarah Cameron - of all people - a secret note, got chased by Rafe and his gang, saved by me, made a huge scene and ran off without even saying thank you or goodbye?”

JJ cringes, caught in a corner. “...Maybe.”

“Talk. Now,” you say, unimpressed. 

Sighing, he stands tall and runs a hand through his hair. He glances back to The Wreck. “It’s complicated, okay? It’s a long story and I don’t wanna bore you with it.”

“I’m not bored,” you flatly reply. 

JJ walks over to you and grabs your hand. You’re unwilling to meet his gaze, desperate to stay disgruntled. He kisses you and you try to dip out of reach, but he just opts to kiss your cheek after. “I’m sorry, okay? I should have thanked you for saving me.”

“Damn right you should have,” you mumble. You finally relent and look up at him. He’s playing the part well: remorseful and abashed. It feels a little pathetic when you admit, quietly, “I didn’t like being left out, JJ. I felt so embarrassed just stood there watching you all.”

JJ nods, dipping his gaze. “I didn’t think of that. I should’ve said something to you. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“What was the meeting at Rixon’s even about?” you ask, narrowing your eyes slightly. “And why did you give a note to Sarah?”

“Oh, you spying on me now or something?” JJ jokes, a playful glimmer on his face. When you fail to be amused, he sighs and knocks it off. “Look, it’s not really my business. It’s a Pogue thing, okay? I promise it isn’t anything that you gotta worry about.”

That doesn’t make you feel much better. It’s like applying a bandage to a bruise. JJ seems to sense this. His finger hooks at your chin and guides your face up to meet his. The kiss he plants against you is like an apology rewritten. You feel your anger melt away the longer he kisses, and you want to smack yourself for being so easy to appease. Maybe he’s right. Maybe you don’t need to worry. It might just be a silly thing. But silly things feel hard to believe when things like ‘arrest’ linger in the background. It’s a slippery slope from a prank to a crime. 

“There’s nothing goin’ on with me and Sarah Cameron, a’right? You’re the only girl I’m mackin’ on, I promise you that,” JJ reassures you. You’re grateful for that. The image of him hugging Kiara still has you a little green on the edges but you’ll chase that monster away on your own. Like he told you from day one: he didn’t want Kie. He wanted you. 

The moment is short lived though. JJ pulls away, takes a step back, and you realise he was leaving to go somewhere. The wounds are healing well on his face, so at least that’s a relief. You want to ask about the boat, and the arrest, and press about the meeting at Rixon’s cove, but he’s already backing away before you can. 

“I gotta go, baby. But I’ll see you soon, a’right?”

“Wait, where’re you going?” you wonder, disappointed. “I thought we could spend the day together.”

“Uh…I gotta go to work, y’know?” JJ says. It’s his tone that has you taking suspicion. 

“To work?”

“Mhm. Duty calls and all that,” he says in his upbeat, energetic way. “I’ll see you later though, baby!”

“Wait, wait,” you blurt, rushing over to him, Ranger in tow. He does as you ask, if anything looking mildly concerned. Once in front of him, you push onto your toes and press a fleeting kiss to his lips. “I love you.”

You open your eyes to meet his. They’re a little wide; his lips parted, damp from your barely-there spit. The corner of his mouth twitches, maybe with a smile, maybe not. Clearing his throat, JJ nods, smiles tightly down at you, and then he reaches down to scruff Ranger’s neck in farewell. You watch him walk away, rounding the corner, taking off down the road in a hurry. 

He didn’t say it back.

Ranger barks again then whines, and he looks up at you. 

“I know, boy,” you mumble. “Something doesn’t feel right to me, either.”

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

“Hello!? It’s your turn,” Daisy sing-songs. 

You blink yourself into the room and look blankly at her. “Huh?”

“It’s your turn to read,” she says, nodding down to the bible in your hands. It was Bible Study with the Bible Bitches, hosted at Ashley’s house for a change. They were indulging in the blood of Christ (red wine that they’d snuck out of Bethany’s parent’s cellar) but you decided to steer clear. There were enough emotions lining your mind that alcohol would only pull out of you. The four of you were sitting on her plush, pink duvet, cosy in her canopy bed. Music played from her speaker and a candle burned on the bedside table. You look down at the open page of your book and nod. 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” you mumble. Tucking your hair behind your ears, your eyes focus on the dancing words. “The Lord himself goes before you and he will be with you…Uh…”

“Everything okay?” Bethany asks at your lack of presence. 

Sighing, you close your book and hang your head. “Just hard to think, is all.”

“Is this about JJ?” Daisy wonders. You glance at her and your lack of answer seems answer enough. She nods and purses her lips. 

“What’s new? Boys are liars. We knew this,” Bethany says, unimpressed by his actions from Midsummers, no doubt. 

“Especially JJ,” Ashley snorts. You look at her. There’s something irritating in her glee, as if she’s glad he lied to you. 

“Look, you guys don’t know him like I do, alright,” you say, jumping to his defence. He might be acting a little shifty right now but that didn’t mean you loved him any less. Ashley quirks a brow. 

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” you say, tone steady like stone. “He’s been through a lot, okay?”

“That might be true but he still sunk Topper’s boat,” Bethany says. 

“Topper’s a douchebag,” you remind them, “they were probably getting even for something Topper started.”

“Still. Getting even to me is like egging a house, not sinking a twenty-thousand dollar boat,” Daisy tells you. You look down at the comforter, agreeing if only slightly. It certainly doesn’t help to deescalate a situation, by sinking a boat. 

“What makes you think we don’t know him like you do?” Ashley randomly asks. You frown at her. 

“Because you don’t.”

“But what makes you say that?”

“You don’t see the kind of JJ I see,” you impatiently reply. You knew JJ inside and out. You knew his fears and his anxieties; his insecurities and his ego; his pet peeves and his pleasure. Except, did you? Did you know that he sunk Topper’s boat? That he pulled a gun on Topper at a kegger? That he was arrested for both? That he was going to sneak into Midsummers? That he was going to hand a note to Sarah Cameron?

It’s as if Ashley can see these questions run through your mind like a teleprompter. That same smirk teases at her lips. It reminds you of a change in wind, warning of a storm. 

“He did tell you about us, right?” she says, quirking a brow. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” you mutter, unamused. 

“Well, I just want to check. Since you know him in a way nobody else does, I’m guessing that means you know everything about him, right?”

“Of course,” you immediately reply. 

Her ruby red lips grin unscrupulously. Her head cocks like a cat, askew to the left. When she speaks, her tone is innocent, as if she’s telling you the weather or relaying an order for a table. 

“Well then, you know that we slept together, right?”

The air in your lungs gets stuck. You feel as though you could start choking from it. Everything else fades away: the hazy music, Bethany, Daisy. It goes mute and fuzzy like you’ve hit your head. Ashley’s figure becomes hyper focused. The flawlessness of her skin, the immaculate placement of every strand of her hair, the recalcitrant personality that she hid so well under prayer and pretty bows. She was everything you weren't. And as if you’re on a hideous psychedelic trip, your mind conjures haunting images that flash through your thoughts like a high speed slideshow. JJ’s lips on Ashley’s. His hands on her body, the way they laid on yours. His mouth pressed close to her ear, mumbling the intimate things that he said to you. The things you thought were only for you. It blinds you. Consumes you. Something about it all, something about the way that you didn’t know, had no idea, feels like betrayal. 

Ashley slowly lets her smile transform into something mocking concern. “Wait…Did you not know?”

You swallow the bile that churns in the back of your throat. It burns as it runs down into your body and it’s as if it sets your body aflame with anger. A strange sort of anger. A quiet, secret anger. Your jaw tenses. 

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell Ashley. You get up from the bed and stride out the room. There’s murmurs between the girls as you leave. What the hell, Ashley? What? She deserved to know. Someone is coming after you as you walk down the landing. 

“Wait, wait,” Bethany says, hurrying over. You wave her away. 

“I’m leaving,” you say, starting down the stairs. You feel like you’re floating. Like your soul is grappling to stay inside of your body, maintain some autonomy. 

“She didn’t mean anything by it–”

“Oh my God!” you snap. You laugh, unable to hold it back, far from amused. You spin on the step and glare up at her. “You can’t seriously believe that!”

“She was just doing what she thought was right,” Bethany fumbles. You hold her gaze for a long, long moment. The silence drips down the walls. Shaking your head, you take a tense inhale through your nose. Do not speak ill of others. 

“I need to talk to JJ,” you lowly say. Bethany doesn’t follow after you, then. You make your way down the stairs and out the door. The air is uninviting. If anything, it’s muggier than inside, soothed by the AC. The humidity feels like sweaty hands grabbing at your throat, choking you. The world is off its axis. The July evening air does little to alleviate the flurry of emotions racing through you. They’re all hitting at once, mixing into a confusing mess, as you struggle to process Ashley’s words. What they mean. What you feel. What you should do. The sickness sits. You pull your phone out of your pocket and stare at your text message thread with JJ. Read the last one he sent.

Have fun tonight bby

Had JJ called her that, when his dick was buried inside of her? Had he whispered it into her ear as he fucked her in the very bed you were just sat on? Or was it the Chateau’s bed? The one that you contemplated buying a mattress comforter for so he could get better sleep at night? Did she know what it felt like to have every spring scratch at her spine as he rammed into her, over and over? The sickness swirls in your stomach. 

You need to talk to him. 

He must be at the chateau. Where else? He said he was hanging with the Pogues tonight. You don’t know what to believe anymore, and that is maybe what hurts the most. You climb into your car. The drive flashes by as your mind flicks through haunting mental images. An abhorrent collage of JJ and Ashley tangled together, intermingled with memories of you and JJ, giggling, gasping, grinning. The chateau’s driveway is pitch black, as is the house and the yard. You park your car and sit, and try your best to piece together the fragments of feelings and thoughts. The yard is empty, as is the pier, and after walking the house, nobody is home. You sit on the porch steps. You wait as though you’re a phantom, a strange echo of the Midsummer’s party. You wait and wait. The thoughts flatten into nothing, become apathetic to the pandemonium of emotions, and you only focus on the sound of the water and wind. You wait and wait. 

The Twinkie turns up the driveway. You can hear the Pogues. They’re loud in their chatter as it bounces off the interior of the van. You don’t bother turning your head. You feel like you can’t. JJ’s voice floats above the others and it sparks the mental images again. 

JJ’s mouth on Ashley’s tits. 

They clamber out of the van. They sound happy, elated even, and you wonder what that feeling is like. It feels so alien now. So far away. They’re talking over one another. Their voices get louder as they approach. 

“Hey!” Kiara says, happy, spotting you. “What’re you doing here?”

Your head turns and your eyes fall on JJ. He’s in cargo shorts, a black long-sleeve, and a slate-grey blue t-shirt over the top. A bandana sits around his neck. His hair is dishevelled in a way that hints at trouble. In this lens, he almost looks like a different person. He almost looks like the JJ Maybank everyone talks about. The lady killer, the delinquent, the liar. He is a liar. He lied to you.

“Hey,” he says, smile wavering when he notices you. “What, uh…What are you doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

He glances at his friends then back at you. Licking his lips, nodding, he takes another step over. “Alright, yeah, we were just gonna–”

“Alone, JJ,” you say sternly. “We need to talk alone. Now.”

The Pogue’s excitement simmers down and they share looks. You know how you look, how you sound, but you don’t care. JJ clears his throat and nods. He looks at John B (who is head to toe in dirt and mud, and you don’t have the energy to wonder why let alone to ask) and an unspoken conversation seems to unfold, and John B recommends to the others that they should go hang on the pier. 

Ashley’s mouth around JJ’s dick. 

As they make their way over to the water, you rise to your feet and venture inside. You’re suddenly restless, desperate for a thing to do. JJ isn’t ever far behind. He flicks on the lamp as you mindlessly wander to the kitchen. You fill a glass with water and chug about half of it. You stare at the window, unable to make out anything through the reflections of light against dark. Instead, you watch JJ hover nervously in the room. He’s fiddling his fingers together, rocking slightly on the heel and ball of his feet. Taking a slow, steadying breath, you place the glass down on the counter and turn to face him. Head hung, eyes slipping closed, you find your voice. 

“I’m gonna ask you this once,” you say, “and I need you to be completely honest with me, okay?”

JJ’s quiet for a moment. Then, “okay.”

You take another breath, hoping to ease the nauseous but only making it worse. Raising your head, opening your eyes, you meet JJ’s gaze. 

“Did you sleep with Ashley?”

JJ’s brows twitch. “What?”

“Just answer the question, JJ, please,” you reply. 

But JJ shakes his head, defensive. “Why the fuck would you ask me that?”

“You said you’d answer–”

“--No, no,” he says, taking a few steps towards you. He points accusingly. “Why the fuck would you ask me something like that?”

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” you sharply ask. 

“Because it’s none of your fucking business,” JJ snaps. 

Your lips part, eyes widening, genuinely taken by surprise. You scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You have no right to ask me something like that,” JJ snarls, eyes narrowed as if you’re the one at fault. 

“I have every right to ask you something like that,” you argue. “I’m your girlfriend, JJ. I’m entitled to know that.”

“Entitled? Entitled? Jesus - you’re fucking entitled to everything, you kooks," JJ sarcastically derides.

It stings. Salt in a wound. He isn’t the one that gets to be angry right now. That’s not fair. You stare at him, lips parted, and despite the stray bullet, you can’t help but keep focus. Shaking your head, you hopelessly say, “why can’t you just answer the question, JJ?” 

He lets out a tense exhale. He turns away from you, paces the length of the room. Takes his cap off. Messes with his hair the way you like to. Stands, back to you, hands on his hips, for a long, long, minute. Another sigh fills the quiet and yet somehow, this one feels different. Your heart cracks. 

“It was before we met.”

“How long before?”

“I don’t know–”

“Yes, you do,” you interrupt. “How long before, JJ?”

“Jesus, I don’t–” He snaps, spinning back around, but then he stops himself. Meets your eyes. Realises something, perhaps. Sighing, shaking his head, hanging it, he says, “maybe a week. Two, maybe.”

A week. 

One week. 

Your eyes slip shut as that same, awful, agonising pain slices you in half. Cuts every neuron, every nerve, every cell. The tissue and muscle tear apart from one another and the pain finds solace in your heart. 

One week. 

Lips grimacing in an ugly frown, the tears finally fall freely. 

JJ’s steps echo as he crosses the room to you. His hands try and hold yours but you wriggle them free, shaking your head. A sob slips past your salt-slicken lips and you try to stifle it with your hand. 

JJ’s fingers inside of Ashley.

“Baby, please just…”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you blubber. When you look into his eyes, the pain just worsens. More sobs come and you gasp for air. “Why didn’t you tell me that, JJ?”

“I didn’t think there was any need to! I…” He scrambles for reasons, explanations, but there are none. 

You cry and cry. You’re not even sure what is causing the hurt. All you know is that whatever it is, it hurts so fucking bad. 

Your hands cup over your mouth and you shake your head, trying to steady your breaths but to not avail. Slipping past him, needing some room, you begin to pace the room now. 

“It was before we met, Y/N,” JJ tells you. 

“That’s not the point, JJ,” you say, wiping your cheeks. 

“Not the point? It’s entirely the point,” he argues. His defensiveness has come back, always quick to shield and deflect. JJ was raised in a house of arguments: it was his way. “I didn’t know you then.”

“But you did after,” you counter. “You did after and you never told me.”

“Because why would I?” he shouts. Catching himself, he visibly tries to calm himself. Tone normal, he repeats, “why would I? I figured my past didn’t matter.”

“But that’s the problem, JJ,” you loudly say. “You always just assume things and you don’t tell me anything. Ever. I feel like I’m always the last one to find out.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“The Royal Merchant, JJ!”

“Oh my…”

“The arrest! The boat! Everything! What? You think I didn’t know? That I wouldn’t find out? You were arrested, JJ! You should have told me!”

“I’m trying to protect you!” he shouts. 

“I don’t need protecting!” you screech. 

The words hang in the air. You hate hearing your voice like that. Shaking your head, you rub tiredly at your forehead, unbothered by your already ruined makeup. 

What a fucking mess. 

“I knew this was going to happen,” JJ mumbles. 

You frown. Looking to him, you ask, “what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“This. All of this. It’s too much for you,” JJ says. He gestures between the two of you. “We’re too different. I knew you’d get tired of it and you’d find a way to–”

“Oh!” you exclaim, quick to catch on. “Oh! I get it! This is about me being a kook again, isn’t it?”

“Don’t say it like that!” JJ argues. 

“Like what?”

“Like it doesn’t matter when you know it does!”

Scoffing, you shake your head. “I can’t believe we’re having this fight again.”

“We’re too different, okay? We keep trying to act like it doesn’t matter but it does.”

“It doesn’t matter, JJ, unless you make it matter,” you disagree. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?” JJ laughs humourlessly. 

“You don’t tell me anything that happens in your life: you didn’t tell me about the boat, about the treasure hunt, about the arrest. I mean, did it cross your mind that I could have helped you? Bailed you out?”

“See! That! That right there!” JJ’s finger points as if singling you out in a courtroom for a jury. “I’m not your fucking pet project.”

“Pet project?” you gape, bewildered. 

“I don’t need your charity. I don’t need your fancy meals and your fancy parents and your fancy dumbass parties.”

“Oh, you’re so right,” you say sardonically. “I’m so sorry that I made you eat a five-fucking-star meal when you met my perfectly polite parents. I mean, how wicked of me! The horror!”

“You don’t get it,” JJ mutters, shaking his head. 

“You know what I don’t get, JJ? I don’t get how you can leave me out of so much. I don’t get how you sleep with one of my friends and not even tell me!”

“She’s not even your friend!” JJ laughs. “What? Do you want me to invent a time machine or something? Go back in time before I met you and not sleep with anybody? I didn’t know you yet! And I’m sorry that it happened, and I’m sorry that it hurts, and I’m sorry that I can’t take it back, but I can’t change my past, a’right?”

“I don’t care that you slept with her, JJ!” You snap. “I care that you didn’t fucking tell me!”

Again, another quiet. In arguments like these, it’s like navigating rapids. A lazy river tumbles into a violent rapid, and voices raise and things are said in desperation for clarity that could never result from such, as if throwing a life ring blindly into the waves. Your cheeks are uncomfortably tacky and sticky from your tears. Your nose is clogged and sniffly and the lump in your throat lingers. Your chest heaves, throat dry, from the shouting. JJ’s hair is sticking every which was from his restless pulling. Then skin inside his mouth is probably ripped to shreds from his anxiously gnawing. And here, stood opposite him, the two of you illuminated in the barely-there lamplight that desperately tries to expand across the room, you know you love JJ. Nothing could change that. 

Have you dug yourselves in too deep?

Shaking your head for the millionth time, you brush your fingers through your hair. 

“You never say it, y’know?”

“What?”

“You never tell me you love me,” you quietly say. 

JJ shakes his head. “Of course I do.”

“But you don’t say it,” you emphasise, meeting his gaze. “I mean…Are you ever going to be able to let go of me being a kook?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” JJ admits in a sad, defeated sigh. 

You let out your own. Sniffing, you glance away from him, eyes fixating on some random aspect of the room. Your fingers rub your lips restlessly. It was all too much, too fast, too quick. 

“Maybe we rushed into this too fast,” you mumble. “Maybe…Maybe we just need some space to think. Not a break or a break-up, or anything like that. Just some time and space.”

JJ sniffs. He clears his throat. “Maybe you’re right.”

Sighing, suddenly tired, you glance at your boyfriend. His hands grip the edge of the counter that he leans against; the muscles in his arms taught and flexed. Head hung, eyes trained on the floor, his teeth gnawing on his lower lip. He’s so fucking pretty it’s unfair, especially when the two of you are in a fight. Crossing the room to him, unable to help yourself, you wrap your arms around his middle in an embrace. He doesn’t hesitate to return it. His face buries in your hair, inhaling deeply, and you do the same to his shirt. You’ll miss this. The feel of him and the comfort. The smell and the warmth. The two of you stand like that, intertwined, neither wanting to break it. 

“I really do, y’know,” JJ mumbles at one point. “Love you, I mean.”

“I know,” you say quietly into his chest. “I love you too.”

Gently easing apart, inevitably drifting like fault lines, you look up at him with a pained, smiling expression. “Just…what if that isn’t enough?”

JJ swallows. He bobs his head as if contemplating something, like you spoke to something inside of him. “Yeah, well. I guess that’s always the problem, ain’t it?”

Before you can try to think of what that might mean, let alone ask, JJ’s pulling away completely. He grabs his cap and his keys as he walks to the door. Glancing over his shoulder, he shucks his head in the direction of the van. 

“Come on. It’s late, I’ll drive you home.”

You nod and comply, following him out the chateau and into the truck. You keep your distance again but now for entirely new reasons. You don’t talk. Somewhere in the journey JJ’s hand reaches across the bench-like seat and finds your hand, and you interlace your fingers, squeezing reassuringly. You don’t let go until you’re getting out of the truck. JJ leans against the driver’s door and you walk around to meet him. You stand in front of him and linger. Neither of you want to leave. 

“How, uh, long is this space-thing gonna last, then?” JJ wonders. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. I guess as long as we need to make a decision, really.”

“A decision about us?” JJ checks. 

You shrug again. “I guess.”

Nodding slowly, JJ licks his teeth. You raise a hand to his face, your fingers gently resting on his warm cheeks. The peach fuzz of his hair tickles your skin. It’s like your nerves are hyper aware of him now that you have to leave. A small smile blesses JJ’s face and you mirror it. Pushing up onto your toes, JJ dips his head, and the two of you share a kiss. It’s slow and abiding, sensual and bittersweet as your tongues only just brush against one another. Breaking apart, you purse your lips and try not to cry again. Arms coiling around yourself in a hug, you awkwardly take a few steps backwards, away from JJ. You wonder if you should say something but JJ seems to understand your struggle, and he gives a reassuring yet queasy smile and nod farewell. You take in the sight of him and sink it deep into your memory - slate grey t-shirt; black long sleeve underneath; cargo shorts; combat boots; dirty blonde hair; swollen, damp lips; dreamy eyes; shark tooth necklace; your friendship bracelet around his wrist; silver rings - before you turn away, walk up to your door, and never look back.

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

There’s a gentle knock on your bedroom door. You don’t bother moving from your spot in bed, buried under your comforter, amongst throw pillows and jelly cats. You hadn’t washed your pillow yet and it still smelt like JJ. You were slightly angry at yourself for how attached to it you were, how scared you were for the smell to fade. The doorknob twists and your mom slowly walks in. She sits on the far side of the bed, your back facing her. 

“Are you going to join me and your father for dinner, little pumpkin?” she softly asks. 

“I’m not really hungry, mom,” you hum into your pillow. Your voice is croaky from want of use. Her hand sweetly lays on your head. Her fingers stroke lovingly at your hair and you press your eyes shut to ward off the tears it elicits. 

“I know we’re not always home much,” your mom says. “But you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?”

“I know mom,” you whisper. Then, you force yourself to roll over and face her. The sympathy on her face is so blatant that it makes you cry, and that only makes it worse. 

“Oh, pumpkin,” she murmurs. She pulls your bedsheets up and climbs in, kicking off her slippers. You crawl into her warm company and let her cradle you like you’re eight years old all over again. Vague memories fizzle into thought of how she used to hold you like after a bad dance recital or a failed piano exam. She smells of Channel and Chardonnay as you nuzzle against her sweater. “I know it must hurt.”

“He lied to me, mom,” you cry quietly. “I love him so much and he lied to me.”

“I know, darling, I know,” she soothes. The two of you stay like that for a while as you cry. It feels cathartic, letting it all out. Eventually, you pull away. You wipe at your blotchy face and sniffle loudly, and it’s so comical it makes you both laugh. Your mom shifts to sit up against the mass of pillows and you do the same, laying against her. She continues petting at your hair. “What exactly happened, darling?”

“A lot,” you say quietly. “He’s a good guy, mom. He really is. He just doesn’t always make the best decisions.”

“Mm. Like the boat?” Your head darts up and you meet her gaze. A knowing smile comes to light. “What? You think I didn’t know? Us mothers know everything, darling.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Mad? Of course I’m mad! He sunk someone’s darn boat!” The way she says it has you both laughing, yours still wet and soggy. “But your father and I did a good job raising you to know that you know a good person from a bad one. And JJ is a good person.”

“He is,” you sniff, agreeing. 

“Your father was right. We went to school with his father - it was before the academy was even built, back then. There was only the one school. We know his dad well enough to know that your boyfriend wasn’t given an easy life. When you grow up like that, it makes it harder to make the right call every time. It doesn’t excuse it - and I certainly don’t want you to go sinking boats with him - but it does explain. And the Lord told us to give grace, did he not?”

“He did,” you hum. “He just gets angry sometimes. Not at me, but just at the world, I suppose. And I can’t really blame him.” Your mind ventures back to the security guard; how quickly he turned from a hero to a villain, just because of who JJ was. 

“But I’m guessing that isn’t the reason why you’re so upset, hm?” she gently presses. 

You don’t particularly want to divulge your sex life to your parents, nor JJ’s for that matter. You don’t imagine them to believe you were a virgin - they weren’t those type of Christians - but admitting this aloud wasn’t on your bucket list. “He used to date this girl who I know, and he kept it from me. And it wasn’t just that. He keeps me out of a lot of things, mom. Like the boat, and the arrest, and some other stuff, too.”

“Ah,” she says. “I see.”

You sink against her and want to hide in the labels of her sweater forever. It feels safe here, in your cocooned bedroom. Not as safe as being with JJ, wrapped in his arms, but safe enough. 

“Did you know that I used to date Ward Cameron.” You bark out a laugh, taken aback, and look up at your mom. She’s smiling, nodding, as if to say, yes, it’s true. “Your father didn’t know, though. He found an old love letter from him in the attic from way back when and nearly saw red. I’ve never seen him so upset, if I’m honest. I suppose he’s like your boy in that way - just gets really mad, when really it’s just pain. The thing is, I never told him because I figured, ‘what did it matter?’ I loved your father and Ward was just a skeleton from my past. Sometimes we don’t always make the right calls in things out of trying to protect the ones we love. I’m sure JJ didn’t mean to keep it from you in a hurtful way, darling. He probably just didn’t want you to know because he knew it would upset you.”

“It only upset me because I didn’t know,” you grumble. She quirks a brow. Your mother knew you better than anyone else. Because she was right. Underneath that - the lie and deception - was the truth. You were jealous. You hated the thought of someone having been with JJ in that way. All the other girls were just faceless figments, as hypothetical as Schrodinger's cat. But Ashley - Ashley you knew. Ashley made it real. Real that JJ had a history, and that his history didn’t include you. Sighing, you bow your head. 

“Your father managed to look past it after a few days. We sometimes joke about it now, at things like Midsummer’s, and it’s just a little blip. People aren’t perfect, darling. You’re not and JJ isn’t. We have to give ourselves and others grace to make mistakes.”

You cuddle against her and let your eyes slip shut. She strokes at your hair the way she might pet Ranger’s fur. The tiredness creeps in and takes over silently, like day turning to night, and you finally get some sleep since the argument with JJ.

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

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

You startle awake, shooting up in bed like you’ve been electrocuted. It’s one of those feelings when you don’t remember where you are or when you fell asleep. As you rub at your eyes and let them focus on your surroundings, illuminated by the soft glow of your bedside lamp through the darkness, you remember. You’re in your bed, in your room. Your mom must have left you to sleep after you nodded off, finally at some semblance of peace to get some rest. The sleep you fell into was dreamless and well-needed. 

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

Blindly reaching for your vibrating phone, you squint at the bright screen and make out Kie’s contact picture and name. You swipe to answer. 

“Hello?” you mumble, half-asleep. 

“Hey! Can you hear me okay?”

“Yeah,” you yawn, rubbing at your eyes again. “What time is it?”

“I don’t remember. Like ten, maybe? Eleven?”

“Hmngh.”

“Are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sleepily reply. 

“I think you need to come over,” Kiara says. Something about her tone has you awake like a shot of espresso. You push the covers down off you. 

“Is everything okay?”

She sighs and that does little to ease your worries. “Look, I know you and JJ are in a bit of a fight-thing right now - I don’t know, maybe that’s why he’s acting the way he is, at least partially but–”

“Kie? What’s going on?” you interrupt. 

“I just…” She sighs again, then finally says, “I just think JJ really needs you right now.”

“I’m on my way,” you reply, hanging up. You climb out of bed and don’t bother getting dressed past pulling on a sweatshirt. The clothes on your body are three days old; you changed once since the conversation with JJ. A pair of mac and cheese stained sweatpants and an old tank top. Ranger wakes as you make your way down the stairs and you decide to let him join. It’s disorientating as you sneak out the house into darkness, considering that you fell asleep in the daylight. The two of you load into your car and you’re leaving your house in record time. In the rearview mirror you check your hair and cuss, trying to smooth it down. Your skin is makeup free and body empty of jewellery, save from the bracelet that twins JJ’s. It makes you feel somewhat naked. As if he heard the whole conversation, Ranger whines from the passenger seat. You murmur reassurances and pet his head as you drive down the deserted roads. The Chateau beams into sight from your headlights. But there’s something else. Some other light, bright and illuminating, from the yard that wasn’t there before. You park your car and climb out, Ranger quick to follow, and walk into the yard. Your eyes widen as they land on a hot tub. 

“What…the…fuck?”

“Oh, thank God,” Kiara exhales in relief, appearing in the doorway of the porch. She rushes down to you and wraps you in a hug, and you’re happy to return it. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to get involved in whatever it is going on with you and JJ, and I never really know if we’re friends or just circumstance friends but–”

“Kie! It’s fine, it’s fine,” you interrupt with a small laugh, a tad concerned. You pull apart, hands on her shoulders, to meet her gaze. Your smile melts with unease, eyes heavy with worry. “What’s going on? Is JJ okay?”

She sighs and shakes her head. She takes a step away from you and rubs at her head. “He got in a fight with his dad. Some stuff went down after you two had your…talk. I don’t know…It might just be better to ask him.”

You purse your lips and nod slowly, contemplatively. 

“He’s inside,” Kiara tells you. With that, you make your way up the porch stops. At the front door, you falter and stop. Would he even want to see you? Was this somehow breaking the rules of your ‘non-break’; not giving him the space he needs to think and function away from you? You recount the past three days of your side of the non-break. How you’ve spent them hiding in your bed, crying at the oddest moments, feeling the lack of JJ’s company like you lost a limb. Ranger rubs at your leg, whining, and you decide to trust your gut. If he wants you to leave, all he has to do is say, but you’re certain Kiara wouldn’t call for just any old thing. 

The spare bedroom door is shut. Ranger whines and whines and scratches at the door. Your hands wrap around the handle and you take a steady breath in. The rickety handle creaks as you slowly push it open, the hinges protesting loudly. One of your hands leans down to grab at Ranger’s collar to keep him by your heel. On the bed is JJ, slumped as he sits, his back to the door. 

“Kie, I told you to jus’ leave me alone, a’right? I’m fine,” he mumbles. His voice is thick like he’s been crying. You swallow. 

“It’s not Kiara,” you quietly confess. JJ whips around. His lips part and eyes gape and he stares at you as you stand awkwardly in the doorway. You probably look just as much of a mess; days-old clothing, unruly hair, make-up free and irritated skin. Funnily enough, a diet of purely Reese’s Pieces is not the best for keeping spots and blemishes at bay. 

“What are you doing here?” he says in a tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Kiara called me,” you reply, shrugging as you add, “she’s worried about you and thought I should come over.”

“Oh, uh, right.”

His head slumps and he stares at the blanket atop of his bed. You purse your lips and feel the awkwardness and unease consume your entire body. Contemplating leaving, you glance behind you, into the silent hallway. But then Ranger somehow manages to slip from your hold. He races over to JJ like a rescue dog in the mountains, clambering onto the bed, ambushing JJ. He laughs at the onslaught of slobbery kisses, letting Ranger imitate a lap dog. His fingers scratch into the coarse fun on Ranger’s neck and he chuckles. 

“I missed you too, boy,” he murmurs. You smile at the sight. JJ glances over at you. 

“I figured you might need a puppy-pick-me-up. He missed you like crazy.” You then take a shaky breath as you go on to admit, “we both did.”

A look flashes across JJ’s face then. His smile lessens as if in thought, and he nods. “I missed you too.”

“I can leave if you want me to leave,” you tell him. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“No,” JJ blurts, quick like a cat running from a loud bang. “No, don’t…don’t leave. Please.”

You nod. You’d stay forever if he asked you to. You’re not sure there’s many things JJ could ask of you that you’d protest to. Closing the door behind you, you wander over to the bed and sit sort of opposite to him, on the side nearest the door. Ranger settles half laid in JJ’s lap, appeased now that he’s in the company of perhaps his favourite person in the world. Your eyes survey JJ’s face for new injuries and am relieved to find none. The old have healed completely now too, thank God. That’s a relief at least. He’s unharmed. Or so you thought.

“Do you, uh…Do you remember when we went fishing, just last week? I don’t know, it feels like a lifetime ago now but…” you cut yourself off nervously with a laugh. JJ nods vaguely. “D’you remember what I said to you?”

“That you’re an armed woman, now?” JJ wonders, quirking a brow, that cute, playful smile trying to break out. 

You laugh quietly, shortly, and dip your head for a moment. “Not just that though. D’you remember that I told you that you can always tell me anything, and that I’m always gonna be on your side?” 

JJ nods again. 

“It’s kinda ironic cause I think that’s when you started putting up these walls,” you say. Another small breath in and then you continue, “and I don’t blame you for it, JJ. In fact, I think I understand it.”

His brows tug together, unclear, and you’re not sure you’ve ever known him to be this quiet before. 

“I can’t relate to you, JJ. I have my own struggles with silly, trivial kind of things but I don’t know real struggle. Not like you do. So, I don’t blame you. Why would you let a rich, stook-up Kook into that?”

“I ain’t mean it like–”

“--No, no, I’m not mad. I’m not saying that to be all ‘woe is me’ or whatever. I mean it. Like…I get it,” you interrupt, fighting to hold his eyesight. “It just hurts, y’know? Cause the thing is, I love you. I love you no matter what. No matter the ‘bad decisions’ and the stupid choices, like the Midsummer’s fiasco or whatever. But I can’t love you, JJ, if I don’t know you. If I don’t know these things about you. I don’t like being left on the outside. It makes me feel like I don’t matter to you, and I don’t know if I can take that feeling, y’know?”

JJ licks his lips nervously and clears his throat. He nods, glances around the room, uncomfortable by your candidness. You got the feeling he didn’t come from a place where conversations like these were encouraged or common. As if to reassure, your hand finds his on the blanket and you softly envelope it with your warmth. He stares at that small gesture for a long while. 

“I just don’t want you to think less of me,” JJ confesses quietly. “I’m a scumbag, a’right? I make dumbass choices and get myself into dumbass situations and I’m not good for you.”

“Yes, you are, JJ. You’re a good person.”

“No, I ain’t,” he quickly dismisses, meeting your gaze once more. And he means that. It hurts you so bad because he means it. “I ain’t a good person.”

“Don’t say that,” you whisper. “You’re a good person to me, okay? I don’t care about all that other noise–”

“--Well, you should, alright?” JJ snaps, losing his tether. His hand slips from your comfort to flail out into the air in a wild gesture. “I mean, Jesus! I just fuckin’ robbed a drug dealer and blew the money on a hottub, for Christ’s sake - and you’re sitting here telling me I’m a good person?”

You look down with that. JJ catches his anger and sighs, shakes his head, disappointed. “I’m sorry, I just…This is what I mean. I can’t let you get that close to me.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You don’t love me, JJ, that’s okay. That’s not your fault.”

“No, hey - what? I never said I don’t love you.”

“You never tell me you do,” you whisper, eyes stinging with tears yet again. You look at him and offer him a shaky smile. “I don’t want to force someone to be with me, JJ.”

“I don’t want you to tie yourself to me,” JJ out-right states. As if surprised by his own truthfulness, he’s spurred on. “I don’t want you to say you’re okay with these things now and then look around in three months time or whatever, and realise just what a fuck-up you’re with.”

“I’m never gonna think that,” you tell him. “I’m never gonna think you’re a fuck-up.”

JJ looks unsure of whether to believe you or not. Your hand finds his again, the other landing on his thigh. “I mean it, JJ. I’m in love with you. I don’t care what batshit, crazy stuff you get yourself involved in, as long as I’m in it too. I’m in, okay? All of it. I’m in.”

JJ shakes his head slowly. But he’s easing up, coaxing open like a conker from its spiky shell. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling sweetly. “But I’m your baby.” 

He smiles at that. 

“So, will you tell me? All of it? Please,” you request. And he does. It’s hard at first, like he’s forcing the words out syllable by syllable, but then it gets easier. The stories. The reasons. The motives. It starts with the hurricane - hurricane Agatha - and then with the white boat that they found. That’s where he got that gun - the same gun that you used to save him from Rafe and Topper - and you distantly recall his story. Then bits and pieces continue to crop up surrounding the Royal Merchant: the compass, the package…Then comes the grocery run and the jump on Pope, and the revenge. How Pope sank the boat, not JJ. That’s when the scruff up happened at the outdoor theatre, with you wielding the gun and saving their asses. Soon after came the arrest, originally intended for Pope but JJ gladly taking the fall. The pictures in the interrogation room of those men, bludgeoned and killed with a fishing spear before being left for shark bait. How JJ was terrified of that happening to John B and, more importantly, to you.

So he started to shut you out of it. Wanted to keep you at arms length. Safe. Unaware. You couldn't get wrapped up in the Royal Merchant madness if you knew nothing about it.

"Cause I have to keep you safe," JJ mumbles, gazing into your eyes. "You're the most important thing in the world t'me, y'know? If something happened to you...and it was because of me..."

His voice trails off as if he can't bare the thought. Your heart swells. He returns to the story. To how his dad beat him when he came to pick him up, and that’s why he was black-and-blue when he came to your house for dinner with your parents. God, if only you knew. After, with Midsummers, with John B dating Sarah Cameron (hence the secret note) and the meet-up at Rixon’s surrounding the Royal Merchant and the gold. How you weren’t invited because above everything else, JJ had to keep you safe. Then, they found it. They actually found the gold, under the Crain house, and they were going to be rich. Stinking, fucking, stupid rich. That brought them to today.

“So we melt the gold down,” JJ recounts, petting Ranger’s sleeping head. “And go to this pawn shop, a’right, way up town in like dodge-ville. I’m the one who’s gotta pawn this hunk of crap ‘cause I’m the best at bullshitting, so I go in and spin this whole yarn about my dementia-crazed mom or some shit. The pawn broker sends us out to the middle of butt-fuck nowhere, and we get jumped by this random guy with a gun. He held it to our heads and made us give up the gold, but John B got the upper hand, right? You following? And I lost my shit, okay? Like things just felt…With you and the whole ‘break that isn’t a break’ thing, and the gun…I lost me shit, and I wanted to get even. An eye for an eye and all that crap - I mean, you know, you’ve read the bible. So we go to his shitty ass trailer and I steal the twenty-K that I owe for that boat Pope sank. But the others weren’t, uh…they weren’t super cool with that, so I went off alone, a’right? Cause I don’t need anybody but me, yeah? And I go to my dad and give him the money to settle up with the cops. But…But he don’t wanna do that. So this whole…thing starts and…”

JJ loses his momentum. His lower lip starts to tremble and this infuriates him. Huffing, he presses his hand over his mouth. You frown, worried, brows so closely knit they might as well be one. A shuddering breath that’s so deeply unfamiliar to hear in JJ lets slip. A tear trickles tellingly down his cheek. 

“Oh, JJ,” you murmur. 

“I nearly fuckin’ killed him,” JJ gasps. More tears fall. He stares you down as he repeats, “I nearly fuckin’ killed him, baby. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t take it–”

You throw your arms around his shoulders and pull his shivering body into you. JJ rests his head on your shoulder, burying his face in your collarbone, and he sobs. Your own eyes well at the feeling of his pain leaking onto you, and you press your nose against the collar of his shirt, breathing in the only smell that can bring you calm. Your own personal brand of nicotine. His arms raise to cradle your back, holding you close just as you do him, and you let him cry. With every tear, it’s as though another brick has been pulled free from the walls he’s been building in the past two short weeks.  

Even when the headfirst sadness has passed, you hold him. It’s safe here, in this corner of the world, once again lapped in moonbeams and darkness. 

“I do love you,” JJ says against your skin. His breath is warm as it fans across the flesh. “It’s jus’...my family, we didn’t do the whole talking thing. I’m not used to really tellin’ anybody anything, let alone how I feel. It’s easy enough saying it to my friends but with you, like that…It scares the crap outta me.”

“Why?” you breathe, pulling back to be able to meet his gaze. Your head shakes as you gently say, “why is it so hard when I say it to you all the time? You know I’m never gonna turn you away or shoot you down for saying it.”

“I don't’ know,” JJ admits. “I don’t know, I guess I just have this thing that tells me I shouldn’t eve tell anybody.”

“In case you ever wanna take it back?” you wonder. 

JJ swallows thickly like taking medicine, and he shakes his head. His eyes look so sad you could weep as he admits, “No. In case you ever want me to.”

Lips parting, something clicks in your head. You think about the past two weeks. How your parents welcomed JJ into their house with open arms, whereas JJ is lucky if he can stay in his for a week without a blow-up. How you lean into your mom for comfort, whereas JJ can only find that in the bottom of a bottle. You’d only ever been met with love and grace and forgiveness. JJ? He knew betrayal and abandonment and disdain. You said you understood before, the first time he told you that he loved you, way back after the fight at the outdoor movie, but you didn’t. Not until now. 

You feel yourself begin to smile. Your eyes lose their squint like the light’s eased up, and your body feels lighter from the epiphany. Now. Now you know everything about JJ. 

“JJ. You took me from my world of grey and gave me colours that I’ve never seen before. The kind of colours I can’t see with anyone else. I’m never going to stop loving you, just for that,” you profess. 

JJ’s eyes gaze into yours, The universe sighs. Time smiles. Like spring, there’s suddenly change. His lips find yours like a migrating bird returning home, and you feel as though you can finally breathe right for the first time in three days. Your fingers slip into his hair, combing through the strands, and JJ’s palms and fingers caress across your figure, as if tracing your body back into his mind. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “I love you.”

There’s still some things, some tangles to smooth out, so you’re both walking the same map in the same way, but those can wait. It can all wait. Because, right now, for maybe the first time, you finally see JJ for who he really is. And as the two of you kiss, you realise that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was JJ. Wonderfully, recklessly-imperfect, Pogue through-and-through JJ. 

read the alternative ending to gamble here!

[daenysx]

Modern!aemond coming back from hard day at office so reader gives him a pamper day to get him back on his feet. I’m talking face masks face gels hair thingies all sorts to make him feel better and babied and he just LOVES IT and demands playfully for this every week

i believe aemond is the type of guy who has a skincare routine but just this once we'll ignore it. i hope you enjoy, thanks for requesting! (also i got a bit emotional instead of playful i'm sorry) <333

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, fluff

"you can lean back just a bit." you say quietly, your hands on his shoulders.

aemond does as you say, settling down on the tub you filled for him. it's much easier to access his long hair now. you wet his shiny blonde strands, the water makes them curling up on his shoulders.

he had a long day, he could barely stay on his feet when he got home. you like taking care of him when he's like this, tired and inevitably soft. you offered to wash his hair for him and he gladly accepted it with a pinch of pinkish color on his cheeks.

aemond has always liked the softness of baths and playing with bubbles since he was a kid. he draws shapes on his arms with foamy water now, with you looking at him from his shoulder. he turns his head to you, your eyes are gentle. it was a bit awkward at first being bare like this in front of you at the beginning of your relationship. the realization of getting used to it feels nice, though. you like every spot of his body. you let him know how much you like him. he trusts you.

you take his shampoo first, start rubbing it on his scalp. his hair is always flawless, you've never seen it messy except the mornings when he's restless enough in bed to put his head on the wrong side. you use a bit water to massage his scalp, fingertips pressing lightly towards his neck. aemond exhales deeply, he tilts his head back.

"does it feel good?" you ask.

"yes." he says quietly, the word flowing out of his lips. "so good."

you keep moving your fingers on his head, especially on the spots where you get a reaction from him. he tries to enjoy the moment of silence, your company has always been peaceful but now it feels like you belong to him, and only him. no other distraction, he has your full attention, and he loves the feeling.

your wrists get a bit tired from doing the same thing for a few minutes. aemond angles his head enough to help you rinse the shampoo. when his hair is clean, you reach for the conditioner. it needs to sit for two minutes so you decide to use the leftover foam from shampoo to rub his shoulders.

"you're so tense these days." you say, applying some gentle pressure on a tight muscle. "i wish you could relax a bit."

when he moves, a cracking sound leaves his neck. "i'm relaxed right now." he whispers. "relaxed when i'm with you."

you massage his shoulders until your wrists go numb. rinsing the conditioner, his hair is shiny and wet. aemond forces his eye to open to turn his head to the side. he kisses your hand on his shoulder, leans his face on it for a second.

"i can do the rest." he says. "thank you, sweetheart."

you kiss his shoulder nicely. "anytime."

leaving him alone in the bathroom to clean himself up, you go to kitchen. aemond doesn't like eating so late at night but he likes the herbal tea you got him recently. it helps him sleep better, he says. you prepare the tea for him and a cup of your favorite for yourself.

he looks much better when he meets you in the living room. you gesture him to lay on your lap until his tea gets a bit colder. he puts his head on your thighs.

"i got something for you." you say, showing him the skincare essentials you got him from your side of the bathroom shelf.

"what's that?" he asks, interested in the white bottle.

"that's an under eye cream for circles and puffiness." you show him the cream. "and this is a serum for hydration."

"and this?"

"it's a night cream for your face. moisturises really well."

"you'll apply them on my face?" he asks, his look is unpredictable.

"if you want, yes." you reply, with a smile. "they always help me with the tension on my face, you know, rubbing them with my fingers. i think you'll like the feeling."

"please." he says, giving you the bottle he has in his hand.

you apply the creams and the serum in an order you use for yourself. you're careful with aemond's scar, spreading the productions gently. he closes his eye, the lines on his forehead and the corners of his mouth get loose as you massage lightly on them. you kiss his forehead when you're done.

"your tea gets cold, my love." you whisper. he doesn't open his eye at first.

he reaches for your hand slowly, kisses the back of it and your palm. "no one's ever taken care of me like you do." he says. "thank you."

you don't want him to get upset. "i'm happy you let me take care of you. i'll always do that anytime you want. just like you take care of me."

"always." he promises. he accidentally falls asleep on your lap without drinking his tea.

[gicosmo]

Random OP Character Headcanons

Random hcs I’ve been thinking about for like the past two months lol

Luffy: Play fights will turn dangerous real quick. Out of all of the Strawhats, he’s the one you shouldn’t ever think about play fighting with.

Zoro: So bad with directions he has to hold his hands out in an L shape to see which is left and right.

Franky: Has tried to do his hair to make it look like the word “SUPER”. Ended up hating how much gel he was using tho.

Nami: Her and Ussop have self care days. She goes ALL out every time! Face masks, pedicures, full blown hair care. She’ll make sure they have a relaxing day.

Usopp: When the crew reunited, him and Nami bonded over their hair. Will talk about different styles they want to try out, different hair products, even going as far as teaching themselves different hair styles to practice on one another.

Kaido: We all know he’s an emotional drunk. Has cried in front of Yamato about how he thinks he doesn’t love him. (Yamato didn’t gaf.)

Yamato: He’s only sticking to one hairstyle and that’s his ponytail. He cannot for the life of him bring himself to do anything else with his hair. It’s him and his ponytail against the world!

Lucci: Lowkey loves gossip to the point where he uses Hattori. Hattori knows allll the tea. Watch out for the adorable bird, he’s getting insight for Lucci.

Kaku: Loves giraffes so much to the point where he despises the predators of them. Lowkey disliked Lucci for a bit because of his leopard devil fruit.

Mihawk: Hates being called “Dracule”. Mihawk, his full name, or Hawkeyes, or even Mr. Creepy Swordsman will do just fine. But please do NOT call him Dracule.

Crocodile: Made mini sandcastles out of boredom one time in his office when trying to figure out the budget for Cross Guild. Didn’t try it again because Daz almost walked in on him doing it.

Daz Bonez: Turned his finger into a knife so he could cut fruits for himself. Why go out of your way to grab a knife when you can become the knife?

Buggy: We all know he has beautiful long hair. Downside to that lucious hair is that he’s tender headed, especially if someone else is brushing his hair. Will hold his head, flinch away, probably even start crying. His scalp is very sensitive!

Doflamingo: As manipulative as this man is, he CANNOT flirt. He can’t even do it as a form of manipulation. He’s better off dancing like an actual bird to attract a potential relationship(that won’t work either)

Corazon/Rosinante: Unlike his brother, this man can actually flirt! Is a natural at it actually. Only downside is that he’ll get flustered if someone flirts back and end up falling to the ground. (Also headcanon that he definitely slipped on a random banana peel on the floor. Baby 5 put the banana peel there.)

Perona: She actually attempted to try her negative hollow move on Mihawk once. Didn’t get the chance to because a simple glare from him made her rethink her life choices.

Barto: Most definitely has written cute fanfics about the Strawhats. Probably has drawn fanart too.

Ace: Most definitely held a “loudest fart/burp” challenge on the Moby Dick. Whitebeard won

Sabo: Tried swinging his staff around as a party trick. Ended up wacking himself on the head with it. Never did it again.

Marco: If he lived in the modern world he would most definitely binge watch those paternity court videos. Or Jerry Springer and Maury vids.(This is all thanks to Stussy and Weevil. Bro does NOT think that’s Whitebeard’s biological son.)

Shanks: Can handle getting drunk off his ass. Cannot handle getting high, not even in the slightest.

Law: After he got his tattoo, he admired them and wondered if Cora would be happy about him getting them in his honor.

Kidd: Loves eyeliner, HATES mascara. He cannot stand anything on his lashes. Also has a horrible habit of plucking his lashes a bit.

Killer: Has bought those straws that are made into designs. Most definitely has a straw that looks like glasses.

Hawkins: He likes crystals! One of those astrology people. “What’s your zodiac sign? Oh? Gemini? Damn… You’re gonna die.” (Most definitely yelled at Kid for calling Aquarius “Asparagus”)

[literaila]

megumi x reader whennn 😁😁😔🥹♥

“what even is that?”

“please,” you pout, knowing his eyes are closed. “can’t you stay still?”

megumi opens one eye, looking down to where your hand is, then glancing towards you. his eyelashes flutter incessantly. “did you mess it up?”

his hands rest softly on the backs of your legs, barely a graze of his skin on your jeans. his head is tilted up towards you. he’s barely even holding on, and still you feel the innate need to push him away.

a couple of months ago, space was anything but what you wanted from megumi fushiguro.

and now it feels like you’ll stop breathing if you don’t get any. whatever that means.

“if anything, you messed it up,” you tell him, a drawl in your voice, “now shush, i need to focus.”

he closes his eyes again, leaning back. it’s very tempting to lean forward. to feel his breath on the skin of your face and imagine his eyes opening again. megumi always tastes like spice, like the hint of coffee you know he’s sneaking around.

so you say, in a stern, stop thinking about things like that way, “this was expensive, you know?”

“it smells like kugisaki’s perfume,” megumi murmurs, attempting to keep his face still.

“jasmine?”

“whatever.”

you shake your head, continuing to lather the face mask on his skin. you might be drawing this out a bit. “does it feel nice?”

“thought i was supposed to ‘shush.’”

you giggle, maybe because his imitation of you is entirely accurate, and continue to paint his skin. this particular face mask is pink, which goes perfectly well with him, you think.

but megumi fushiguro would look good in anything, so that’s not saying much. even with his frown and his disapproving eyes.

“is this going to turn my face a different color?”

“c’mon, megumi, i know you know what a face mask is. i’ve scrolled through your phone. and your pinterest.”

“that’s different,” he answers, an eye open again. you poke his chest with a finger and he scoffs. “who knows what kind of things you buy.”

you roll your eyes, but continue nonetheless.

every couple of seconds he shifts, and his hands move—you think it could be on purpose, with the circles he’s drawing on the backs of your thighs, but you can’t be entirely sure. maybe he’s just impatient.

it’s distracting you anyway. you could hiss at him to stop, but you’re not sure that you want him to.

“how much?” megumi blurts, after a moment.

“what?”

“how much was it? you said it was expensive.”

you snort. “like i would tell you, rich boy. i don’t need anymore of your judgement.”

“you brought it up.”

“i was kidding,” you murmur, finishing the last bit of bare skin. “i bought it to share, anyway.”

and then you lean back, admiring the view a bit more.

it’s not as if megumi needs a soothing gel mask to help his skin, as perfect as it is, but you know why he agreed to this in the first place.

and you know he’s enjoying it, even if his feet have begun to tap a bit restlessly on the ground. you know because his face is entirely relaxed, and because in the year you’ve known him, megumi has never shied away from telling you what to do.

if he didn’t like it, you think, he would make it known.

“okay,” you set down the applicator, grinning a little bit at the pink filled spaces of his face. “all done. was that so bad?”

“yes.”

you laugh and take a step away from him, trying not to make the gasp of air you take obvious. but megumi probably noticed anyway.

“i can pay for it,” he tells you, softly. his eyes are just barely open, his face almost immobile. he might be even closer now. “since you’re sharing.”

you frown at him as he stands from the counter. “i’m not going to let you pay for something i coerced you into.”

“you didn’t coerce me,” megumi says. “much.”

you laugh, and turn around, handing him the applicator. “okay, my turn,” and then you take his spot, still shorter than him, even when you sit by the sink.

“i have to do you?”

“why do you think i invited you?”

“so you could enjoy my suffering.”

“well, that too. but it’s easier to put it on someone else. i always spill when i try to do it myself.”

“really?”

“are you going to keep complaining,” you ask him, leaning in, “or are you going to return the favor?”

megumi makes a noise in his throat, but he acquiesces. “i have no idea why i agreed to this.”

you hum and close your eyes, the buzzing feeling of his skin close to yours a pleasant surprise as he begins.

really, you’ve been this close. you’ve hung onto his shoulder after missions, let him patch up the cuts on your faces in the car. but it’s different now that you know him.

different now that he’s… here. not out of some obligation, but because you asked.

you definitely don’t feel this way when nobara plucks your eyebrows or draws shapes on your face with eyeliner.

“what?” megumi murmurs, after he’s finished the first side of your face.

“what what?”

“you’re smiling.”

you open your eyes and he’s right there.

his irises are an unusual color. some mix between deep blue and green, some unmistakable gradient. and you’ve stared before, but megumi’s never been this close.

at least not here, in your bathroom, instead of some moldy alleyway.

“am i?”

he nods, tilting his head at you.

“sorry,” you whisper, closing your eyes again.

“no,” megumi pauses, and you can feel his breath, his hand as it moves, the vibrations of him entirely apparent. “you have a nice smile.”

you almost jolt away from him, but refrain. you want to push yourself against the vanity, fall into the sink, or simply hide under the counter.

and you want to open your eyes again, just so you can see his face. megumi is always serious—sincere—but he doesnt share his thoughts often, doesn’t allow himself to be vulnerable unless it’s absolutely necessary.

and you don’t think he’s ever let anyone else corrode his face with a pink face mask.

“i do?” you ask, just to hear him say it again.

“mm-hmm.”

your lip twitches and you relax once again. you already know what he means, anyway.

[moonsapprentice]

𝔗𝔬𝔯𝔡 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

𝔄𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔵𝔢

✩ like every single fanfiction author on the face of tumblr and wattpad would describe, Tord has caramel brown hair. It can really easily get staticky which is funny as fuck when he works on his robots. You’ll walk in and it’s all over the place.

✩ I see people describing his hair as ‘hair horns’ which isn’t wrong per-say, but a better word for it is cowlicks. He literally cannot control them. When he was a teenager he tried so hard to gel them back just to have them spring right back up. Despite that, his hair is actually really silky. He doesn’t like having body hair so he shaves all of it off. Sometimes he leaves a happy trail though.

✩ his eyes are a very striking grey. Depending on lighting they look wildly different. They can look almost white and icy in the light But in the dark they can look menacing and deep.

✩ Tords skin is pretty pale. His skin has warm-neutral undertones. He mostly prefers to be indoors, especially when he’s deep into a project. However when it isn’t above 70 degrees he loves to go out into the woods.

✩ He’s around 6’3 and lean. He’s not very visibly muscular but you can tell he works out. when he’s just out in a t shirt you might catch a glimpse of bicep.

✩ very warm body temperature. Norway is cold, so his body probably just got used to producing heat.

✩ I don’t mean this in a weird way, but he has a pretty face. Just generally nice to look at.

✩ he wears a lot of comfy, casual things. I imagine him as a bit of a gym guy, so sweatpants and T shirts are his go to. And obviously, hoodies.

✩ Tord has scars all over his body.

ℜ𝔬𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔠

✩ very romantic

✩ his love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation, with acts of service sprinkled in

✩ Tord never does it infront of people but spews the sweetest most poetic shit you’ve ever heard. Literally pure honey straight out of his mouth. It’s mostly things about your appearance. He has trouble defining his emotions, so instead of opening up and trying to deal with it he says ‘I love you’ a million times a day. It’s the only emotion he truely can explain. He just loves you.

✩ even if he can’t say his emotions, he can sure as hell show them with touch. He can’t say ‘I’m feeling down today’ but he can wrap his arms around your waist from behind and look at you with droopy eyes. He can’t say ‘I feel happy’ so he hugs you tightly and peppers kisses all over your face.

✩ big big big snuggler. Happy to be small or big spoon, whatever it takes to have you close by

✩ a bit random but if you’re into skincare he’d really want you to put a face mask on him. Girl dad style.

✩ loves to kiss on your neck, especially your pulse point. He likes to be reminded you’re alive and always around.

✩ Tord loves receiving kisses on the corner of his mouth and on his neck.

✩ likes a healthy amount of pda. Hugging, kissing, and hand holding are all on the table. As long as the kisses are under five seconds.

✩ gets jealous easily. He trusts you to not do anything but he doesn’t trust other people.

✩ it’s corny, but gun range dates. I CAN’T DENY IT. HE WOULD.

✩ rough and long kisses are his shit. He likes feeling connected to you

✩ 90% of the time has his arm around your waist.

✩ love love loves touching your hair. he’ll touch it at any given chance.

✩ I feel like he’d have a strong sense of smell, so he recognizes your perfume, shampoo, body wash. Everything.

✩ He dates you with the intent of staying together for a long time. He sees you as a spouse rather than just a partner.

✩ loves going to theme parks with you

✩ gives AMAZING massages

✩ would be very happy at the thought of marriage. He doesn’t need a big wedding if you don’t want one, you could even elope. He just wants to feel connected to you.

✩ very tight hugs. Like he’s scared you’ll float away

✩ might want kids to continue his legacy, but a bit iffy on it due to his ‘secret occupation’.

✩ HE WILL GIVE YOU FLOWERS EVERY WEEK NO MATTER WHATT ‼️‼️ NO MATTER IF YOU’RE FIGHTING, HES BUSY, WHATEVER. NOTHING WILL STOP HIM

✩ terrified of losing you

ℜ𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔬𝔪

✩ light sleeper, if he gets any sleep

✩ stays up until 2 - 3am on most nights

✩ despite this, also likes the morning? Both a morning and a night person. Probably gets up around 8 or 9am. Late at night and early in the morning are his most productive hours. During the day he mostly lounges.

✩ smells like smoke, wood, and cologne.

✩ smokes weed very often

✩ loves energy drinks, SEPCIFICALLY white monster.

✩ sweet tooth

✩ but can’t bake for shit.

✩ bites his nails very badly

✩ furrows his brows when he’s focused

✩ crack his back please he needs it.

✩ likes bbq sauce

✩ salmon enjoyer. Specifically smoked

✩ used to dye his hair that dark brown color because he thought it made him look cooler.

✩ mostly listens to metal music and punk rock, but secretly has a vocaloid obsession

✩ his favorite anime is sailor moon because I said so.

✩ would I be wrong if I say he probably has a hatsune miku body pillow

✩ I don’t really think he has a canon family but in my mind I have a whole life story for him. I think that his dad is the OG red army leader, and the main base is in Norway. I don’t think they have a good relationship. His dad often went way to far in teaching him lessons in combat, survival, strategy, etc but they both kind of bonded over engineering. Bonding maybe isn’t the right word because tord definitely does not love his dad, but his father saw that Tord had strengths in robotics and let him persue that. Then bla bla bla Tords the red leader now. If you want you can just ignore this Hc ^^ it just helps me see him as more of a person than a 2D character. I have mini life stories in my head for all the EW characters but Tords is the one I can see the most clearly.

✩ Pau and pat are like brothers to him

✩ wears boxers with hearts on them

✩ also wears Minecraft boxers

𝔑𝔰𝔣𝔴

✩ Any sex position with you in his lap is his favorite. He puts his head in your boobs and holds you still, thrusting up into you. Sometimes he likes to do mating press though.

✩ Tord gets so focused on your pleasure that sometimes he forgets about his own. He’ll go round after round with his head between your thighs.

✩ 100% a switch. He could be on top of you with your legs over his shoulders, or sinking back into the mattress with his eyes rolling back into his head.

✩ lowk a brat

✩ 7 inches when hard. Bends upwards. Shaved

✩ A big kink for dry humping. If you’re in his lap he’ll start grinding on you. He’ll press little kisses on your neck too

✩ goes crazy for some titties

✩ has a lot of crazy ideas, and would love to try them on you if you consent

✩ pretty much has no turn offs. He’s open to try anything you want as long as you’re happy. The only thing he’d never do is hurt you. The other aspects of his life are so violent he doesn’t want to take it to the bedroom

✩ massive oral fixation. He likes having your thumb in his mouth or vice versa depending who’s the top.

✩ he’s very very perverted and very very horny, but he also loves the connection that sex provides. Like yes, he likes boobies at face value. But when he gets into it he really gets into it. Sex is when most of his emotions come out. If he’s had a hard week he may be a bit rougher (obviously with consent). I could also see him as the type to cry a little when he finishes. It’s very rare though.

✩ a high libido. If you’re down he’s down.

✩ if no one else is home he will do it ANYWHERE with you.

✩ will give hickies anywhere. And if you give him one he will show it off proudly

✩ can go about 3-4 rounds average

✩ Lowkey has a breeding kink I can’t lie.

This has been in my drafts for like 3 months so sorry if some parts are a bit ass 🫶 xoxo

[konigsblog]

omg I loved idea of kidnapper!konig w the shy and sheltered reader it has me floored tbh🫨😮‍💨 presenting you my brain rot the way a proud cat delivers a leaf on your doorstep as a token of gratitude

thinking about how he noticed her at her work or something bc she was so helpful but a little reserved, afraid of him even. Probably bc she isn’t used to seeing 6”10 behemoth military men every day. Konig is smitten w the way she shies away from his intense eye contact, the way she flushes painfully all over her face and neck and stutters as he tries to make conversation. He is enamored, because despite being taken aback by him she still is so obedient and proper in the way she addressed him, going out her her way to make sure he has everything he needs. He wonders in how many other ways she would be so willing to serve him. He knows that she would make the perfect housewife, one worth it to being kept in a gilded cage. a beautiful girl such as herself, oblivious to the dangers of the real world needs protection, someone strong to keep her safe from all the bad men who would no doubt gladly take advantage of her. Konig makes a vow that day to be her protector. at first, the only thing she does is cry and try to get away from him after she wakes up and finds herself chained in his dark basement. She refuses to believe this is her new reality, that’s she’s held captive in the dungeon of the soldier with the icy blue eyes she met at work. She wonders what her mistake was, because she only tried to be nice and friendly despite feeling a deep sense of dread in the pit of her stomach the minute she had laid eyes on the masked giant. If only she had listened to her gut…

no matter how much she beg and pleads, the giant doesn’t budge. He patiently waits for her panic to subside as he takes her in his arms, shushes her and gently wipes and kisses away her tears. He makes her skin crawl, but no matter what she does, she can’t escape the iron grip of his enormous arms snaked around her waist, holding her against his chest as he rocks her back and forth. He is so sweet and gentle, so patient and understanding. He lulls her to sleep in his arms, speaking soft and soothing words in her ear. Soon, she’ll get used to her new home. To her new place beside him, as his. His to love, his to cherish and protect. He promises the chains will come off her ankles and wrists once she behaves and stops trying to get away. But until then, she’s bound to sleep on the old mattress in the cold basement. Of course he isn’t heartless. He comes down once a day to feed her, always making sure its her favorite foods and snacks she gets but on one condition: she has to let him feed her, take the bites and spoonfuls from his hand. He coos at how much of a good girl she is being for him, his praises tinting her ears all pink. And he allows her to bathe, he has all of her favorite oils and gels and products. But once again, for a price. She has to allow him to bathe her. At first she tries to edge away from his hands on her, large and brute palms lathering her soft skin with soap, thoroughly rubbing her all over. She’s never been naked in front of someone else, let alone touched in such a way. But she relaxes once he applies enough pressure on her aching joints, massaging the soreness away. When she finally relaxes and leans her head back against the bathtub, she feels his calloused fingers edge down to her core, teasing her folds. She flinches and opens her eyes, looking up at him, startled and caught like a deer in the headlights.

“have you ever been touched down here, meine hirsch?”

his voice is ever so soft and inviting. She shakes her head, caught in his gaze as her chest falls and rises, her nipples hardening from the cold as her soapy breasts peak up from underneath the bubbles. His fingers find something small, something hidden between her folds and she yelps when he starts rubbing slow and small circles on it. He is delighted to have his suspicions confirmed, his engel is untouched. A virgin.

“you’ve been so good for me today. So obedient. You’re learning so fast, meine hirsch. I think you’ve earned another reward. How about I spoil you some more?”

NON-CON/RAPE

könig is so ecstatic to realise that his little engel is a sweet, inexperienced virign. so he can be your first, the one to corrupt you. you're just so sheltered, so scared and teary-eyed when his hands dip further and further until they reach area's you wish they wouldn't have.

his semi-hard cock only hardens more at the sight of you; bare and wet in a tub of warm water, weak and vulnerable against him. god, the thoughts and fantasies of taking you now – even if you didn't want it – were driving him crazy, almost delusional as his eyes widen and the sides of his mouth curl up into a eerie smile. his morals almost forgotten about when he saw you shudder.

“oh-hah, my sweet thing... are you a virgin?” he lauaghs out at the question, almost taken about, excited and shocked.

he chuckles lowly when you nod, rubbing your clit in soothing circles whilst kissing your cheek. you whimper, whining at the newfound attention to your clit. you can only grip the sides of the bathtub, cornered in and useless against your kidnapper.

“please–stop!” a hearty chuckle leaves könig at your sight of misery, your fear. the tortue he's inflicting apon you and your poor, virgin body.

“you have nothing to be afraid of, my dear...” despite his promises, you could see past his smirk, knowing exactly what he had in store for you.

könig bundled you up into the towel, holding you in bridal style before placing you down at the edge of the bed. he threw the towel open from your body so that you were laying against it. the rough texture against your soft skin while he swirls his throbbing dick around your tight entrance. you whimper, squirming and shaking at the pleasure before he eases inside mercilessly. your nerves through the roof.

he doesn't care. not about your pleasure, but about the tightness of your pussy around his big dick. he's just so hard, so, so fucking hard as he pushes deep inside, pressing against your womb as he repeatedly begins thrusting into you. you cry out, thrashing beneath him to no avail as his grip on your hips only tightens, pushing you down against the bed :(

“stop-please, i don't want it!!” you whimper out, fearful and trembling, pussy throbbing and pulsing uncontrollably around him, only driving him more insane, giving him more power and control as he uses the way your body reacts against you. your pussy can't seem to stop drooling, what's the issue? he's just making sure his princess is treated right.

“look at you, you can't even deny that you're enjoying this.” he huffs out when he feels your folds wrap and tighten around his fat cock, continuously driving his huge cock into your virgin pussy relentlessly. no pity or mercy, and sure as hell no sympathy as you continue squirming despite being asked repetitively to stay still for him. so he can use you, just how he thinks you like.

you don't want this, none of it. but when he pinches your hardened, swollen nipples while bullying his thick and veiny dick into your weeping, raw cunt, you can't help but moan and pant, arousal dropping from your sex as he grinds against you.

“...no-no more...” you pant breathlessly. so sore, aching and bruised. his rough pace doesn't stop, not even for a second. slapping your face harshly as you grew more dumb and dizzy from his cock. he didn't want you to miss a second of this.

“don't pass out on me, engel, i won't stop even if you're unconscious...” you sob out at his words, choked and silenced when he wraps his large and calloused hand around your throat, making you babble out at the burning, rupturing sensation in your core.

so, so callous and careless as he leaves you whimpering and sensitive.

[rini-rushed]

right here.

☆ sae x reader! (gender not mentioned)

★ comfort | college au

sypnosis -> reader is losing it after an assessment, feeling like they can't be saved, someone steps in to remind them just what the fuck they've been living like.

notes: this might be really edgy.. but like im 14.. can i get a pass for it

i listened to 'liquid smooth', 'my september' memes, 'loveit' while writing certain parts

you can feel it.

it's here.

that unsettling feeling, the hot bubbles popping underneath your skin. your throat closing in. the hotness in your cheeks, under your skin your blood ran like molten lava.

rushing to somewhere to erupt all of your frustrations.

to erupt from your heart.

this past week has been nothing less than numbing, now you can't even function properly, simple things have been grabbing and scratching your skin.

your eyes glossed over with a tragic gel, reflecting the scene of the thin, two paged packet in your hand, in red ink scribbled lines and circles from your professor.

78%

daggers of your own insecurities started to dash into your heart, weakening the grip of the papers that was being held within your hands, you could feel the paper under the pads of your fingers grow warmer with your body heat.

you stared so intensely at your paper you might as well burned it with your vision, a cold feeling manifested inside your hands, coating your skeleton with this animalistic urge.

the want to thrash at this object in front of you grew stronger and stronger.

wrinkles started to imprint themselves on the paper, crinkling the once flat face into one of frustration and aggression.

your frustration and aggression.

the more you looked at the first page the more your insides started feeling unstable, like someone planted some bombs in your vessel of a body, waiting for you to explode from the inside.

as the lava infected your hot lungs, boiling your blood and sweat, evaporating your bodily evidence of your so called hard work, you could feel your vision cloud up, start to distort and water and it only made you angrier.

The hot magma had apparently reached one of the planted bombs because suddenly your moist and musk despair was suddenly overwhelmed with the heated resent of your failure, setting your insides on fire as the aggression picked up.

a hoarse and ugly croak was ripped from your once angelic chords, now burnt with your rage as you crumpled the paper once and for all.

with hot hands you slammed the paper away into the trashcan, hitting the table against your guilty knuckles.

you don't care for the spike of pain that came from the blunt hit, your heart beat deafens your physical pain and numbs you. suddenly your hear foot steps against the floorboard, you don't react.

you don't even spare your stinging knuckle a look as you brought your hands to your face, your own limbs bending into the silhouette of your visage to create a mask, censoring your face in shame.

crouching over your body crumpled underneath you, on your knees, at the mercy of no one, you fought the urge to tear out your hair.

then you felt a person next to you, you know who, and it doesn't comfort you at all. you just want to disappear, after all, if you can't even get a good score after all that work, just what the hell were you really doing? sae will tell you.

sae will tell you that you've been rotting these past few weeks.

his gaze isn't stern nor does it push on your fragile body, it just merely looks, he doesn't push his existence into your mind yet.

"what happened."

you don't reply, choking silently (or as silent as you can be) on your jagged tears, puncturing your throat.

when you don't answer him, he shifts in his spot, looking at you and your disheveled appearance, it really did hint at the hell you were pushing yourself through for these past few weeks.

in the shared space as of late, for sae, it was like living with a restless spirit, he'd be reading on the couch when your tired figure dragging itself throughout the halls, your sunken eyes dirty with exhaustion,

even now as he gets look at you closely, he sees your chapped lips, your messy hair, eyebags that were painted under your eyes to undermine just how bad your sleep has gotten.

he wasn't gonna lie, you were hard to look at.

but thats because every time he looked at you, he was reminded of how badly you were treating yourself. how much you've been neglecting your own needs for the sake of your assignments.

he then turns his head away from you, putting a light hand on your shoulder, you could barely feel the weight of his palms.

"you can't possibly miss the fact that you've destroyed yourself these past weeks."

as those words fall upon your ears, you close your eyes tighter, feeling beads of tragedy roll down your cheek more and more. your shoulder shaking a bit as you sniffled.

feeling you tremble under his palm only squeezes his heart even more, to see you in this fragile state, this sick state you've cornered yourself into.

"and you can't possibly expect anything good to come from this,", his eyebrows bunching together slightly, tilting his head so he could at least peek into your vision.

you just wanted to hide yourself even more, getting hit by a block of exhaustion, you peek at your tired hands, he moves his, ever so slightly rubbing your shoulder in awkward comfort.

"it wouldn't be fair." he adds.

but you worked so hard.

"but i worked so hard-"

"that doesn't matter, you've worked yourself to the bone, you're one the verge of getting sick if you aren't already." sae cuts you off sternly, his gaze turning from passive to more stern.

a moment of silence passes, staring at the ground in shame longer, you wiped away your tears using your sleeve, a sniffle and a shallow sigh passes, you slump your head in defeat.

"take a deep breath." he instructs, you follow, your lungs tremble as a lasting affect of your sobs, if it's even finished..

he lets you have a moment to yourself, a quiet moment as you recollected your memories, just what the fuck you've been putting yourself through in the supposed weeks that have passed.

for that minute or so, you just sit in defeat, wallow in your own blood, sweat, and tears. your own shame encapsulates and hugs you with it's rough and uncomfortable closure.

but then a hand reappears, it pulls you in, the jagged exterior then melts away into something you can enjoy, something you can rest within. well, it's not like he's going to give you a choice after this point, you need rest and comfort more than anything.

he softly pats your hair and as you weakly squeeze around him, sae reciprocates in silence, and you can only gratefully take the sensation of his body against yours.

you can feel it.

he's here.

★ 終わり ☆

might make a pt2

#anotherSHITassendingloloolol

tags: @mininji @tofumiarchives @tired-xyra-urstruly @ac3ss

@rinitoshiplzdateme @motchilyn @fishii-writes @reapkusho

oh and hi @zaephix i just thought id tagged you.. lmk if you dont wanna idm

[xo-hugs-n-kisses-ox]

hil, love ur writing!!

could i request a Paul Lahote x Bella's Younger Sister! Reader (Luna Swan). y'know how in new moon Jacob does this like parkour climb into Bella's room (Imao). maybe like reader is doing her night time routine to get ready for bed then hears pebbles being thrown at her window and she already knows it’s her bf paul is out there. she opens the window for him and he climbs up showing off his strength. he immediately wraps his arms around Luna’s waist and puts his head into her neck/shoulders. she reciprocates his deep hug, rubbing her hands up n down his back and shoulders (bc he shows up shirtless in true werewolf fashion😌). she asks him all coy “what are you doing here” so he just explains how he needed to see her and be with her bc ofc we all know how protective of an imprint Paul must be. it’s all cutesy then they kiss and cuddle to sleep.

btw… obsessed with ur writing🫶🏼. literally im always checking back on ur account for updates💞

Pebbles

Paul Lahote x reader

Now Playing: Ho Hey by The Lumineers

I hummed to the song on the radio as I sat at my vanity, applying creams to my skin and oils to my hair. It had been a long day; school was tiring, I had a million assignments, and work was… well, it was the service industry, so about as good as could be expected.

The sun had set already. Dad was on a hunting trip for the winter break, and Bella had taken the opportunity to stay with Edward for a few days. This left me alone in the house, but it wasn’t all that bad.

I had gotten up to dig around under my desk for a face mask, finding it and sitting back on my bottom as I read the back for instructions.

A thud made me look over towards my window. I watched for a long moment as nothing happened, until a small pebble hit the window again. I got up, making my way over to see who was there.

I peered through the glass, only to see a familiar face staring back at me. I smiled as I saw him, pushing my lacy curtains back to unlatch my window and open it.

“What are you doing?” I call coyly, laughing at Paul as he grinned up at me

“What, I can’t come see my girlfriend? Can’t make sure she’s okay after a long Monday without her?” He teased, adding, “Watch out, I’m coming up.”

I take several steps back, watching as he takes a running leap up to the ledge of my window. I watch as he shimmies his broad shoulders and long legs through the small opening, laughing as his foot gets caught in the curtain.

He scowls at me, taking long strides forward to envelop me in a hug. He presses his face into the crook of my neck, bowing his body over mine to reach, and his arms circle my waist tightly.

I sigh with content as I wrap my arms around him, one over his shoulder to take through his hair and the other around his torso to run my hand up and down his spine.

“You’re lucky Charlie isn’t here,” I murmur, “If he saw you climbing up here, he’d bust in to kick your ass, and also to give you a shirt.”

He snickers, complaining that “Shirts are restricting, and I run hot.”

“‘It’s a werewolf thing’.” I quote, smiling as I add, “I was about to put on a face mask, you want to join?”

He pulled his head back to eye me, suspicious of my proposition. I only laughed at him, pulling away and reaching for the tube of “Green Tea Detoxifying Face Mask Gel”

---

We end up cuddled together on the bed, the fan blowing towards both our faces to dry the mask.

He’s laying on his side, his hand propping his head up. His other arm is wrapped around my waist, keeping my back secured to his chest as we watch reruns of old movies.

I yawn, so comfortable that I’m almost falling asleep.

“Tired?” He asks quietly, and I shrug.

“Comfortable,” I reply, “You’re so warm, makes me want to fall asleep.”

He laughs a little, reaching up to poke my cheek, “Mask’s dry, let’s take them off.”

I groan as I roll to my feet, padding to the bathroom to peel off the mask. I do mine first, leaning over the counter and carefully taking the dry, rubbery substance off of my skin and throwing it in the trash. When I’m done, I haul myself up to sit on the counter as Paul props his arms on either side of my legs.

I take off his mask, careful of his eyebrows and the short hair on his chin and jaw.

“You didn’t shave this morning,” I comment, turning to throw the part of the mask I had gotten off into the trash.

“Ran late today, Sam dragged me to school before I could,” He replied, his eyes glued to my face, “Jared hogs the bathroom trying to fix his hair.”

I smile, peeling off the nose strip now.

“Tell him to quit sleeping with his hair wet, and he won’t have to fix it as much in the morning.”

He sighs, “I’ve tried. He’s stubborn.”

I hum, “Reminds me of someone else I know.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching my thigh and making me laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” He says sarcastically, “But the only stubborn hot-head you love is right here, letting you torture him with face masks.”

I laugh, “You know you love them!”

Again, he rolls his eyes, leaning in to press a kiss to my lips as he says, “I love *you*, I tolerate the masks.”

I giggle as he presses dozens of quick kisses across my face, never more grateful for life than I am in this moment.

———

Thank you so much for the request!! It was super cute and I had so much fun writing it 🥰

And I’m so glad you like my writing!! That made me so happy 😁 I really hope you enjoyed this, and lmk if you have any more requests 💕

[l1vchuu]

resentment. part four

!! warnings: mentions of sh and suicide, strong language, may contain triggering themes and blood, angst, and slow burn, P.S. This chapter might have a lot of time skips, so be wary.

A few days went as you were gone, and you weren't the only one who felt the changes.

It was a Monday afternoon as you sat at your kitchen table, reading a book you randomly had picked off your old shelf- "Norwegian Wood" by Haruki Murakami. You bought this book after watching the film that just got released in the theaters, hoping that you would read it someday and feel the same emotions you did when you sat in front of the big screen. After some unfortunate events that occurred in your life at that time- you never really got to read it.

The soft yellow tint of the light from the cheap lightbulbs filled your small kitchen, going through your hair, and making a slight shadow on your face. The tea you had made for yourself earlier was getting colder as the minutes passed by, and you couldn't feel more peaceful.

So far, you tried taking things slow- since you had a whole month to figure things out. You've put out the thought of seeing a therapist later, your mind was still blurry. Currently, you were trying to calm your mind by reading and watching movies.

A few hours later, you put down the book and decided to take a shower. As you entered the cabin and turned on the shower, the sudden warmth of the water took all your thoughts with it.

You recently bought some new showering essentials- new shampoo, conditioner, shower gel, and a few other things. Maybe if you tried to take better care of your hygiene you could feel prettier, or at least have some type of order in your life that you follow.

The sweet honey scent filled the atmosphere as you washed your hair, slight steam flowing in the air, getting captured in your lungs with every breath you took. Your mind was roaming through your memories, mostly the good ones. You remembered the first time you discovered Wes Anderson.

A few years ago...

You sighed as you scrolled through your Letterboxd watchlist, the titles moving faster than the thoughts in your head.

"'Detachment', 'Lost in Translation', 'Vertigo'..."

You mumbled to yourself as you kept scrolling, looking for something to watch. Then your eyes stopped at a yellowish poster, excluding itself from the others.

"Fantastic Mr. Fox"

You had heard of that movie before, all positive things. You stared at the trailer for a while

"Who even watches trailers for movies that have been out for years?"

You thought to yourself as you kept looking, but you were mesmerized. You hadn't seen anything else like this. It was so quirky and sweet and bitter that you wanted to watch it badly. You found the movie, and just as you were about to put it on, Simon opened the door.

He entered the room, looking at you with his brown, empty eyes.

"How was the shift?"

You tried to spark up a conversation, but it ended nowhere.

"Fine."

He sat on his bed, still with his mask on. You know he took it off when he slept, but you had never seen his face. It's like he knew the moment you woke up and fall asleep just so he can put his mask back on and act like nothing had happened.

"You gonna' sleep?"

You asked him, your eyes looking up from the monitor of your laptop.

"Not now, why you ask?"

"I was going to watch a movie, that's why."

You could somehow see his eyebrows rise underneath his mask. It was the first time he heard those words from a Sergeant. People usually never had time to do anything really, being tired from long work shifts and all.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It just... It's the first time I've heard that sentence here."

"What? You don't watch movies?"

"No- It's not that. People don't find the time for things like these."

"Well, I do. Does it bother you?"

"As long as it's not too loud, no."

"Good."

You sat back on the couch as you hit space and the movie began.

Half an hour later, you were so invested in the movie that you didn't notice the presence of your roommate next to you... until he coughed, causing you to flinch, and because of your reflexes, your hand went into a defensive position. He looked at you, his eyes slightly wider.

"Oh, sorry."

"I think... I think I saw Jesus."

He chuckled, showing the slightest bit of emotion he ever has.

"It's just me."

"You really live up to your name, huh? Sneaking in like that."

"I didn't do anything, it's the movie's fault for having you so fuckin invested."

"Yeah, sure."

-

It might not seem like the brightest memory ever, but that was the first time you had such a close interaction with Ghost ever since you got moved into a room with him. That moment felt like a slight push into a whole other universe. A universe where you felt less scared to talk to him, a universe where he got to be the closest person to you.

The whole story began when you joined the British Army at 17 years old after a really bad banter between your dad and your brother, resulting in your brother's suicide. At his funeral, you could barely hold yourself up and alive- it had shattered you completely. You couldn't help yourself to eat, your mother had to force-feed you just like she did when you were a baby. Your body was aching with every step you took, every time your jeans brushed against your thighs, making your fresh scars bleed again from the friction. A month later, you were at your lowest point in life- you didn't go to school, and your mother ignored every call from the principal because she didn't know what to say. Everyone at your house was so lost, your father refused to go out of his room, leaving the house in the process, your mother barely slept at night, and you had ruined yourself. At this point, everything was a lost cause.

One morning, as you barely walked towards the front door, placing the rubbish bag in its' place, you saw the leaflets from the military scouts that live in your area. Usually, you would throw them in the rubbish bin and continue on with the day, but this time something was off. Your brother wanted to enlist in the military so much, he even started going to the shooting ranges outside the city to train his aim. You could feel your cheeks getting wet as you stared at the papers in your hands- he would've served his country and fulfilled his dreams in a year.

With slow and steady steps you went to his door, opening it slowly. His room was always cluttered, as he never got the time to clean it- always so busy with his voluntary work and training. There was a big flag hung on his wall, frames with pictures of him in his boy scouts uniform, pictures with him and his friends at a red cross event, and posters of his favorite movies and superheroes, he was such a bright and generous kid. There were stacks of military scouting leaflets piled on his desk, catching more and more dust as the days go by.

You sat on his bed, holding a picture of him with a German Shepherd 'Scouty' - a military dog that was pretty famous in your city and had saved multiple lives. You remembered taking that picture, him getting so excited when they allowed him to pet the dog, his eyes lighting up when they said that we could take a picture with him, his big smile, showing his braces as the dog stood still. Everything seemed so wonderful, life was so full and bright.

The tears began rolling down your cheek as your fingers traced his face, the room still smelled like him, somehow. You felt a pair of fragile hands holding your body close to them. You looked up with your red and teary eyes at the figure- it was your mother. You two sat in silence, crying quietly as you held each other. She noticed the leaflet in your hand.

"When does the recruiting start?"

Your mother asked you, her voice quiet and shaky as she looked at the paper.

You wiped your cheeks as you checked the dates on the leaflet- it was slightly damp and crumpled.

"The applications can be sent in a month from now."

You said, your voice cracking as your hands shook slightly.

"Mhm."

Your mum responded as she gently pat your head, her fingers brushing through your hair.

You stared at the paper in your hands.

"Will you leave Dad?"

You asked.

"I can't, you are still here."

She replies.

"What if I leave for university? Will you leave him?"

"Yeah, I suppose so."

But you still had two years left, and with your absence, you were sure no university or college will accept you. You thought about it- if you were to return to school, people would ask you questions back and forth, and you couldn't deal with that. You knew your mother was suffering more than you, I mean, losing a child can be amusingly painful for a mother. And the last thing you wanted to do is to make your mother suffer even more, but continuing to live with your father after all that had happened was doing that same exact thing.

You thought about this the whole day. Holding that same leaflet, making all the research, asking people about it- and then you made your decision. You were going to join the Army.

Sure, you may have absolutely no experience, unlike your brother, but that's what he would've wanted. You were doing this for him and your mother.

You walked back and forth in your room, wandering in your documents and checking in your strengths. You knew a little about artillery from your brother's trainer and all of his lessons. You had a month in order to prepare for it. You went to consult your mother on the decision.

"Are you sure you want this?"

"I'm sure, I just need to train a bit, but I need to know that if I go, you leave him."

She thought for a minute.

"I'll stay at your aunt's place until I save up enough money for rent and divorce."

You looked at her, your eyes full of uncertainty.

"Do you promise- No- Will you promise me to do that?"

You took a breath before continuing.

"When I leave, you leave him. You go as far away as you can. I'll lend you money if I can- Go to another country and live there if you need- Just promise me you'll leave that man, please..."

She put her arms on your shoulders, making you look at her.

"I promise you, but how do you know if you are going to get recruited?"

"I will get recruited, don't worry."

She looked at you, not being sure if you were just talking nonsense or actually meaning your words. By the look in your eyes and the sound of your tone, she knew you weren't joking.

After your mother made that promise- you got to work. You went out and trained every single day, but before that, you visited the shooting range. You knew that the trainer was a British Air Service veteran, so you asked for his help.

'You want to enlist? As in, you want to apply?"

He looked at you, a worried look on his face. It was the first time he saw you since your brother's funeral, and he saw the change in your appearance.

"Yes, and I need your help."

You said, looking up at him. You had explained everything to him, in detail, too.

"For a month..."

He silently thought to himself as he looked at you, his eyes narrowing.

"I can manage a training schedule, but I'm not sure if you could-"

"I'll do it.'

You interrupted him.

"- handle it."

He stared at you, his eyes slowly wider than before. He sighs.

"It won't be easy. Not at all. Your brother had months and years of practice, but now you have to make it up to him in a month."

You nodded your head, your eyes burning with ambition once again.\

"I'll do it. I won't give up."

"We'll change up your diet too,"

He paused, taking in the situation with your family. Your mother could barely stand up from her bed, and your father was nowhere to be found.

"I'll bring you food, you'll eat here."

You tilted your head to the side.

"Will that be okay with you?"

You asked him, a worried look on your face.

"It'll be absolutely no problem. I'll pack in food for your mother as well."

You nodded, feeling grateful for his offer.

"Thank you."

He nodded, holding his hand out for a handshake. You took his hand, giving a firm squeeze.

"I'll come pick you up tomorrow at 5:30 AM."

He searched your face for any reaction.

"As I told you, it'll be hard."

He gave you a slight smile.

"But now I believe you'll make it."

During that month, he took care of you and your mother- you trained with him all day, and he checked in with your mother in the meantime. He was a single father taking after his father's business. His son enlisted two years ago, leaving him alone in his house all year round. You became attached to him quickly, he was almost like a father to you. He helped you become the person your brother wished to be. For a month, you became a weapon, which got you in the Army, which got you in the Special Forces (SAS). That's the place where you first met Simon.

It was three years after you joined the Army- you were now 20 years old. You finally had the opportunity to apply to the SAS- which you did. After a long process of training and selection- you finally made it into the force.

When you got in, they introduced you to a couple of people, Captain Price and some other Lieutenants. As you entered the base where you would be working and living, they introduced you to one final person- your roommate- Simon Riley, or his callsign 'Ghost'.

As you finally got to call your mother, announcing the news to her, you were surprised more than usual when your trainer picked up the phone.

"Hello?"

The male voice echoed through the phone. You furrowed your eyebrows, barely recognizing it.

"Hello?"

You replied.

"It's you! How's it going, kid?"

And that's when you recognized him. You two had a long conversation- apparently, your mother had moved in with him, which got you flabbergasted. Your mother was at work when you two were talking. You announced the news to him.

"Really? You got in?!"

He said, his voice full of pride and joy.

"I knew you would make it. I'm so proud of you!"

I'm so proud of you.

I'm so proud of you

That sentence kept you up at night. It replayed in your mind non-stop, echoing through your veins with each word.

Someone was proud of you.

-

Simon looked at Soap as he ate his lunch, holding his bowl in one hand as always. It's been a week since you were gone, and by that time everyone was aware of your absence. Soap looked back at Ghost, unsure about how to approach a conversation with him after all that had happened. Your seat at the table was empty, and nobody dared to sit on it, leaving a gap between Gaz and Ghost. It was rather quiet, everyone was lost in their own mind. Some of them were surprised that you never said anything, that you didn't notify anyone. Johnny was probably the first person who decided to write to you.

"Come on, I can't do this by myself. We have to let her know that we are with her and that we miss her, right?"

Johnny states, looking at the empty piece of paper in front of him.

"So, what do we write?"

Kyle grabs the pen and begins the letter, slowly filling it up with words until the page is full. Signing at the bottom were Johnny, Kyle, and Alex. After a few hours, the letter was sent to you, arriving in your mailbox.

The morning after, your neighbor notified you that you got mail. You looked in the box, a confused look on your face as two letters appeared in your hands. One of the letters had three signatures, while the other had only one- a skull face.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.☆.｡.:

Heyy!! I'm back as promised with the fourth part. This part had a lot of time skips for which I apologize if you were confused with! Sending lots of love and see you with part five <3

[spruzu]

THROWING SOME SONIC HEADCANONS ON U

Sonic

-He always has a bruise or scratch on him somewhere even if he hasnt fought eggman in a few days. there. is. always. one.

-He's also COVERED in scars. Theyre either covered up by his fur/quills or theyve faded over the years.

-When sonic showers he uses a bottle that can be used for shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, mascara, ketchup, pepsi and a microwave.

-Sonic only really likes physical touch like hugging when he's seriously injured or in pain (example A. sonic prime and frontiers). Also he doesnt mind it when he's doing it to someone else.

-Sonic paces when he's worried, thinking or waiting for something. (Shadow does this too just less)

-Sonic fidgets in his sleep a LOT. He'll falls asleep on his back and wake up with his legs half off the bed and the duvet on the floor.

-Sonic cant cook so he gets tails to make him dinner (he knows how to make chilli dogs tho dw)

-Sonic used to hum tails to sleep when there was a storm

-This ties in with the one before it. SONIC IS A FANTASTIC SINGER. This man is angelic. Also no one can tell me Rouge can't sing coz she defo can.

-Sonic has a draw of all the stuff from his past adventures (chips bracelet, this upgrades from sa2, etc.)

-He smells like man deodorant (Lynx)

Shadow

-He takes notes on how to be a ''real mobian'' since he was brought up on the ARK he doesnt really know how to fit in so he'll stalk sonic and take in how he acts.

-Shadow and Rouge have ''girl nights'' where they stay up, do face masks, eat pizza and watch movies. Just a sleepover pretty much. (Omega is sometimes involved to)

-Shadow sleeps like a vampire

-Shadow and sonic spar often (3-4 days a week)

-And if sonic doesnt show up to the sparing session he'll go find him and make sure he's ok that they are still sparing

-His bedroom is lit up by lamps, no big light at all just lamps and the window.

-He's INSANELY good at cooking and baking. Gordon ramsey ahh hedgehog

-Can speak every language fluetly, this includes few ones that are dead (this is smt gerald gave him when he was in the 'creation' sage oin the ARK)

-He smells fucking fantastic 24/7. Lavendar, rlly nice perfume (probably Rouge's), deodarant, anything! This man smells great.

Knuckles

-He has a really low spice tolerance, one SPECK of spice and this dude is like sonic in tmosth.

-He gets bothered by Rouge trying to steal the master emerald at least once a week.

-Works out everyday, maxes out the machines and just goes at it like it's at the lowest setting.

-Sometimes he'll ask if sonic wants to spar for the fun of it if he's not on Angel island.

-FEMINIST! (He loves women)

-Denise he loves rouge but will just get flustered if she makes on single flirtation towards him.

-Has tubs of frosting and a spoon at nearly all times (WHAT IF HE GETS HUNGRY ITS A GOOD SNACK)

Tails

-Tails puts on cooking videos for background noise when he making/designing a new invention.

-Tails info dumps about planes and nerdy stuff to sonic and sonic just pretend s like he knows what tails is going on about because he knows it makes tails happy.

-Tails uses his tails for pillows sometimes.

-Getes his little hair ruffled by everyone (mainly sonic)

-Likes making gifts for people as a way to say thank you

Amy

-Amy plays dress up with cream.

-Herself and her room smells like roses/flowers in general.

-Loves watching mean girls with rouge.

-Doesnt look it but is STRONNGGGG. Your telling me that she would swing a punch and wouldnt send someone FLYING?? SHE CARRIES THAT MASSIVE HAMMER FOR VRYING OUT LOUD!!!

-Crystals.

Rouge

-LOVES to gossip

-Ayesha Erotica listener

-Does shadows makeup sometimes (Omega watches)

-Has a perfume collection that she lets shadow use to

-Has the most BEAUTIFUL dresses in her wardrobe for different occasions

-Loves to wear rings

there u go, have fun with those.

[hetaherr]

scent of tomorrow

: childe, thoma, wriothesley, kazuha, wanderer

: fluff, a little angst if u squint, all about smells

super self indulgent, literally thought of this in the shower lmao okay bye happy reading and reblog to win your 5050s <3

childe

scent is one of the senses you should put to use when childe is around. it is known to see and to feel is a privilege given that the man is often travelling in his line of work. but i implore you to not take smell for granted, for in his abscence all that shall be left in your home is the scent of his presence. you find yourself sinking into the cold and empty bed, the smell of him freshly out the shower will waft through the room, eventually dissipating in the following days. you remember his muscular arms wrapping around you shamelessly, a cheeky smile adorning his tired face as he begins to tickle you. take a whiff and it smells of water, clean and refreshing, it's slightly minty and it feels pristine. there are floral notes like the orange blossom, you can make out the innocence and playfulness- much like the purity that is his love for you. it's weird how the first time you met childe, the air was grim and smelled strongly of metal. it isn't hard to guess why, he looked intimidating and seemed far away. but now he was yours, all you can think about is how much you miss his joyful and refreshing antics- much like the aroma he brings and makes any space immediately feel like home.

thoma

though far away, you often find yourself transported into the charming yet quaint town of mondstadt. or at least what you pressume to be mondstadt. thoma smells like a freshly baked apple pie, vanilla and apple- and a little cinnamony as you've mentioned before. "my cinnamon boy" you will say while snugging into him on a cold rainy inazuma day, he feels warm and the smell of vanilla feels oddly comforting and relaxing. if you think about it he smells like walking into a kitchen with the oven on during christmas. he smells like the feeling of running fingers through your hair, cozy as you listen to him ramble about his day with the kamisato clan. it is the perfect feeling of nostalgia and pure comfort, the embodiment of fall. there is something so homely about his scent that makes you want to call your family or childhood friends again, he reminds you of the innocence of youth that is forever unattainable. he smells like the remembrance of the past and the security of the future that lies in his warm embrace.

wriothesley

there is something so on brand as you see those 3 in one soaps sitting so awkwardly in your shower, squeezed inbetween your fancy bottles of shower gels and all kinds of face and hair masks, body scrubs to keep yourself feeling clean. i suppose to this man, one bottle will do, and being clean is a 2 step process. however it's funny, he'll come home and a teasing grin will fall apon his face while chasing you around the living room- despite being exhausted from work- for a hug. "no hugs until you take a shower!" you can try shouting, squirming as he catches you. but trying is really all you can do. you can smell the musk that is his sweat, it's a little woody yet it makes you feel so very secure and safe- similar to the fortress he runs. a true sign of his hardwork, it may be a little gross as you return his hug- groaning as usual. but as he relishes in your touch, you can smell the lingering scent of that ridiculous soap he insists on using, it smells like jasmine. so pure and weirdly sensual as he tells you yet again that "i've missed you". its fascinating how his scent does such an accurate job at reminding you of his honesty in his work and in loving you. you may complain about his sweaty hugs and his odd taste in soaps but you do hope that the both of you stay in each other's embrace for just a little longer, before it's all washed away down the pipes.

kazuha

an honest laugh sounds across the beach, kazuha's hand unconsciously moving a piece of your hair away from your face as he listens to you speak. "you just smell different from how i imagined..." the sheepish remark sparks the feeling of surprise within his chest. when you first set eyes on the wandering samurai, the image of autumn and beautiful maple leaves falling from trees appears within your mind- a reasonable thought. but it couldn't be further from the truth. kazuha smells like summer, he smells like white musk and coconut. it's a little woody, fruity and floral at the same time, similar to his calm yet charming nature. it reminds you of the way he is able to remain so composed like the tranquil ocean while he manages to fluster you with his flowery words. at times you can faintly smell the sea breeze, salty and citrusy- but the scent comes and goes as does he, never staying in one spot for too long. under the sun as you lay with him atop a warm rock feeling the breeze, his scent is vast. one moment it feels like splashing in the ocean under the sun and the next it feels like watching the waves crash against the shore under the moonlight. he smells like the way you romanticise being at the beach, whether you are playing with your friends or sitting in a hammock, just watching and existing. be glad that everytime he is away, the beach will always feel like home.

wanderer

there is something so peaceful about waking up in the early mornings of spring, the crisp air and morning dew is something so miniscule yet so easy to love. but all you chose to look at is how his mouth is agape, brows slightly scrunched together, the motion of his chest falling and rising is the only thing moving in the still environment that surrounds you. at this moment as he wakes, you are greeted with the delightful aroma of lavender. unlike his usual stubborn and harsh behaviour, the scent of lavender only enhances how calm and tranquil it feels. it makes you laugh at how different his personalities seem throughout the day. his eyes narrow at you as his arm that drapes lazily across your waist pulls you closer. you can smell the aroma, surprised at how long it has lasted, you like how it reminds you of his devotion to you. there are times he smells like bergamot too. it smells like the sun, citrusy and a little playful. it dispells the shadows of despondency and anxiety, he smells like breathing the fresh air of morning walks. he smells like hanging the fresh laundry in the afternoon on a sunny yet windy day. the mixture of scents remind you of the elegance and purity that he is. a man capable of change and love, after being brought his sun.

[puppiesandnightlock]

Link: Why Bruce Should Not Have The Title of World's Greatest Detective Anymore, a presentation by Tim Drake

Summary: Bruce didn't know the Super Sons were dating somehow, and Tim compiled a list of evidence of a bunch of moment here he should have caught on, but did not.

Featuring Confused and Tired Dad Bruce, PowerPoint master Tim, Traumatized Dick, and an embarrassed Damian.

Super Sons Week Bonus Day: Family and Legacy (this one won by a landslide on the tumblr poll)

In Bruce’s defense, he was a father of six officially and about twelve emotionally. He had long ago resigned his title of World’s Greatest Detective to Tim, so honestly, could you blame him for not noticing that his youngest son had had company around more often? And come on, it was Jonathan Samuel Kent, the two were practically glued to each other even before recent developments. 

How recent, he wasn't sure. 

And now he had to sit through a folder Tim had given him, evidence compiled in an attempt to clear things up in his head. He plugged in the USB that fell out of it and it opened to a powerpoint.

Of course.

Angels and Demons, or otherwise known as B, how the fuck did you not know?

A presentation by Tim Drake 

Evidence #1: “Wrestling.”

The slide played a clip of surveillance feed from inside of the manor. Damian had Jon pinned to the ground, both panting and flushed. 

“What’s going on here?” Bruce turned the doorknob, poking his head through the door.

Damian scrambled off of the taller boy, schooling his features to a mask of indifference. 

Jon made no such efforts, choosing to starfish across the carpeted floor, a blank look on his face as he stared at the ceiling.

“Nothing, Father, we decided to make use of our time and spar. Jonathan needs practice.” 

Bruce eyed them suspiciously, pausing to take in the scene. Damian’s usual gel slicked hair was ruffled, and Jon’s curls were splayed out on the floor, some in his face.

Then again, his hair was always a bit unruly.

Their faces were flushed, and they had been breathing heavily when he came in.

The quick once over seemingly revealed nothing to him, although one could clearly see the still blown pupils of an expressionless Jon, and both boys’ kiss-bitten lips.

“Next time, spar in the cave, that’s what it's there for.” He walked out, shutting the door behind him.

The video feed played for a bit longer, Damian putting his face in his hands, a very un-Damian-like thing to do, and groaning.

“I cannot believe that actually worked.”

Tim had left a little note on the side of the video after it stopped playing. You have six kids, and one of them is one Richard John Grayson, how on earth did you fall for that?

Evidence #2: Dates

This opened to a video from a phone, someone walking into Damian’s room and filming his fussing with his appearance in the mirror.

“Whatcha doin’, baby bat?” Tim’s voice came from the other side of the camera.

“Fixing my hair, what does it look like, Drake?”

“Whoa, whoa, chill. I’m just curious, I haven't seen you put this much interest into your appearance since you had picture day.”

Damian scowled, more out of admittance that he was right then spite.

“Say what you will, Timothy.” He hesitated. “How do I look?”

“You’ll blow his socks off, Dames.” Tim said softly, a hand reaching out from behind the phone to straighten his jacket.

Damian inhaled deeply and carefully walked down the stairs. The doorbell rang, and as if filming a reality show, Tim followed dutifully behind. Jon stood, looking as nervous as he was, holding a small bunch of wild flowers that he immediately thrust into Damian’s face. 

“Oh my god-” was whispered from Tim as the camera zoomed in on Damian, a pink flush becoming slightly visible.

“I’m so sending this to Dick.”

Damian handed off the flowers to the nearest person, but not before threading a few into Jon’s curls.

“Where are you going?” Bruce came out from the dining room, files in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.

Tim switched the camera over to him, zooming in on his tired appearance, then zooming out so he could see everyone.

“The movies, s-sir.” Jon stuttered.

Burce raised an eyebrow. “Jon, you’ve known me for years, you can drop the formalities.”

An undignified squeak came from the boy and Damian sighed, albeit affectionately.

“We will be going, Father.”

“Have a good time.” He waved them off, disappearing into the labyrinth that is Wayne Manor.

“That’s it?” Tim was heard screeching off screen. “He gave ME hell, gave my dates HELL, broke out the KRYPTONITE when Kon even LOOKED at me, and all you get is HAVE A GOOD TIME?”

“Sucks to suck.” Damian jeered, taking Jon by the hand and dragging him out the door.

Followed by it was several screenshots from a chat titled “Rockin’ Robins”, all of them sharing stories until someone pointed out that maybe Bruce didn't even know it was a date, which was accurate.

This note said There were flowers. Flowers.

Evidence #3: They were in A FUCKING CLOSET.

Bruce spat his coffee out at that, massaging his temples. This was getting to be way too much. He did not at all need to know about what had happened in the closet, especially because he remembered this particular one and frankly? It was embarrassing that he didn’t catch on then.

Bruce was walking down the hallway when he suddenly heard noises coming from the third floor janitor's closet.

Tentatively, he opened the door. The last thing he expected was for Jon and Damian to stumble out of it, school uniforms slightly unbuttoned and very rumpled. Jon’s glasses were crooked, and Damian’s tie was missing.

“F-Father!” Damian stuttered, attempting to smooth out his ruffled appearance. Jon silently handed him his tie, both boys flushing furiously under Bruce’s rather confused gaze.

“What were you doing in there? Aren’t you supposed to be on that field trip? Your class is still on the first floor.” 

“W-We were…uh-” Jon fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt, nudging Damian for help.

Suddenly, his gaze caught on something reflecting green in his son’s back pocket. His eyes narrowed and his face set into a firm expression.

“We will be talking about this at home. I’m disappointed in both of you, I thought we’d gone over this.” 

Damian’s face paled, before morphing into one of confusion. “What exactly are you talking about, Father?”

“Sneaking out for hero work.”

Both teens inwardly sobbed in relief as Damian said stiffly, “Yes, Father.”and Jon with a quaking “Sorry, Uncle Bruce.”

Satisfied in his parenting skills, Bruce continued towards his office.

If he watched the video Tim had put in from the surveillance feed of Wayne Enterprises, he could almost guarantee they would have both been sporting some rather suspicious brusings. 

Bruce stood up, he was going to need a drink to get through the rest of this. 

Unbeknownst to him, most of his kids were perched in the living room, wheezing at their father’s reactions.

Damian was rather displeased at all that was being shown, and his face was flushed red.

“Looks like baby bat isn’t so innocent.” Jason cackled.

“My precious sweet little boy, this is OBSCENE, they are BABIES!”

“Richard, I am nineteen years old.”

“BABIES.”

Tim closed the laptop as Bruce left the cave, leaning back. “It was sad, honestly, to compile all this information and realize Bruce didn't get any of it. I mean, how long has it been?”

“Three years.” Damian muttered.

“Three fucking years. It’s sad to see him go.” Duke said solemnly.

There was a moment of silence as they mourned the loss of their once perceptive father.

Then promptly burst into laughter.

@super-sons-week-2023

[procyonloser]

Serial killer au pt 6 (warnings so many warnings, I'm putting up read more early. This dove is dead)

Before he was Lucifer, he was Sam. Sam had been born into a large family, his parents were closer related than most knew, loveless in their relationship, but the idea of divorce was tantamount to murder. They were well off, but insular, devout, but they spoke little of their faith, only their hate. There was no music, no art, no singing, no dancing, only silence. His parents both believed in not sparing the rod from the child, making sure all of the children stayed in line. They were beaten, starved, and treated as labor.

Sam had younger siblings that didn't make it to see double digits, and he remembered the wedding of his 14 year old sister to a man in the church was a solemn and quiet affair. She didn't survive long either. His parents spoke of her death as preferable to what happened to one of his siblings, who'd fallen to drink and earthly desires. One of his younger sisters grew pregnant, and no one said a thing about it, apart from the fury he would see on his mother's face. He never knew what happened to the infant, or who the father was, but he had his suspicions.

Sam began to realize he wanted to get away from them, the town, the state, what he knew. He wanted more than this, more than people contemplating his grave silently, so glad he'd done so little with his existence.

Sam left, left them all behind. He decided to go into medicine, because the human body always fascinated him. There were times when he watched porn, that he was more focused on how the body moved, reacted, how it functioned. It'd been fascinating to him, when he started studying cadavers in school, it was his first taste of true artistry. It was the first time he felt truly inspired, to physically and literally peel back the layers of what made people tick. The realization he could make them take whatever form he wished for.

His teacher was the first time notice that he was maybe more intrigued by the bodies than other students in the class.

"Perfect, you're doing very well." Lucifer said softly, running his hand through Adam's hair. It was soft, with gentle waves. Without gel in it, like the night he'd first met Adam, the hair fell down into his eyes and gave Adam a far more gentle imagery than he would have thought.

Sam had never gotten praise, so Lucifer knew he had to be the one to encourage Adam.

Adam breathed out onto his face mask, looking down at the body in deep concentration as he used a needle and fishing line to sew pieces of the musculature together. Lucifer had asked him what art Adam wanted to create, if he was to be helping him. He knew Adam had seen him initially as just a killer, he'd not understand Lucifer's purpose. He understood, of course, he had been about to kill Adam - a man he'd initially seen as a nuisance, a loud pock mark on society that could have served a better uses dead than alive.

Lucifer was glad he'd been wrong about Adam now, he'd never had anyone he could talk to before. Not like this.

Adam let out a shaky breath as he finished up stitching that piece, before looking up at Lucifer with a crooked smile. He needed Lucifer's praise as much as Lucifer enjoyed giving it to him, feeding him.

"Does it look okay?" Adam asked, and Lucifer kissed him.

"Art is individual, it's personal, and it's never perfect, except that imperfection makes it perfect. You're learning, and I can tell you and I will do great things." Lucifer said, and Adam leaned into the kiss, deepening it. He knew that at first Adam had been having sex with him with the idea it would buy him freedom, or the chance at it; but now, there was honest affection in it.

Of course, Lucifer was still not intending to let him move about freely yet. Maybe ever. There was no need to, he'd take care of Adam himself. He was cuter like this anyway, reliant on him.

Lucifer's phone rang, and he made a face, breaking away from Adam to go take the call.

"Sam?" Lilith's voice came over the speaker. "Charlie wants to see you, honey, will you be home late again tonight?"

"I'll be home to put her to bed and read her a story," Lucifer smiled to himself, leaning against the wall in the hallway. "I have to be at work early tomorrow though, you know how busy it's been."

"I know," Lilith said, sounding a bit put out by his response. "I just miss seeing you."

"I miss you too," Lucifer said without missing a beat. He did, to some degree. He missed Charlie more, he did honestly love his daughter, he hoped she'd eventually see his art the way he did. "But, such is the life of a coroner when there's a serial killer on the loose."

[ten-shi-fandoms]

Their love language + a bit of them as a partner:

Blue lock addition pt 3

___________________

Cw: characters are aged up, fluff/angst headcanons, mentions of pet names

Characters: Nagi Seishiro, Chigiri Hyoma, Reo Mikage, Kunigami Rensuke

______________________________________

Chigiri Hyoma ⚽🏃:

I feel like Chigiri's love language is acts of service.

In particular acts of hair and skin care service-

Chigiri loves you and his favorite things are your hair and skin.

He loves the feeling of your hair under his fingertips as he combs through your hair with his hand, the way the golden light of the sun glistens off your skin first thing in the morning.

He loves it so much that he decided to take care of it for you.

Hair care is something he does on himself so he loves doing it for you which usually ends up with the two of you having hair care dates.

He's so gentle with you and it shows in your hair treatment.

Chigiri washs your hair so gently that you could fall asleep, he won't even mind either.

Instead he'll just pick you up and move you so he can continue only after he's finished will he wake you up for skin care.

Your skin care consist of serums, rubs, masks, gels, lotions, and all the above.

He'll apply everything onto you as well, he won't even let you raise a finger.

He'll rub his hands gently over your face with each product, making sure to massage it in by the end of the small session your face is practically glowing, super hydrated and soft.

He does other little things for you as well.

Little things like good day notes telling you cute pickup lines and well wishes, good morning and good night text are a everyday occurrence.

He loves leaving hair product nearby for you, he puts them in the most obvious places and then acts like he didn't notice you eye it and use it. He'll just smile quietly to himself at how happy you look when your hair felt so soft under the pads of your fingers.

Angst:

When Chigiri is upset you can tell.

His eyes will burn wholes into anyone unlucky enough to be in his way, his hair a little messy, the biting of his lip until it's raw.

They're small signs but signs nonetheless.

When he's upset ask him to bathe with you.

The idea of relaxing with you in warm water makes Chigiri agree which end up with you gently washing his hair as he melts into you leaning his head back into your hands.

During these times he's vulnerable, and loves the way your hands gently scratch against his sensitive scalp, rubbing out the knots and leaving his hair and head light.

He gets so drunk off your love like this, the irritation he felt washing away like the conditioner rinsing into the water.

When your upset prepare for a spa day with him.

This man will pamper you to the point where you will forget why you were upset in the first place.

Doesn't matter if you want or don't want to be touched he somehow makes you give into him.

He'll run make you shower after he'll run a bath for you to relax in, even fill it with bubbles if thats what you want.

He'll wash your body, give you massages as the water soaks away your worries and irritation. Then his soft finger will lace themselves in your hair washing it with such fondness that it can make you sleepy.

If you want more he'll be placing gentle kisses against your shoulders, neck and ears, if not he'll simply wash your hair while quietly praising you for making it through the day, if you want him to stay quiet he'll stay silent and let you rant or cry about whats wrong.

Always makes sure to do your skin care especially if your not in the mood to do it.

He'll even dress you if you want, and if you just want your underwear that's fine to he won't comment on it.

After he'll lay you on the bed or couch get your favorite snacks, drinks and blankets just so he can bundle you up and put on whatever you want.

He'll even give you his shirts or hoodies just for you to have a piece of him with you if you want to left alone.

Whenever you fall asleep he'll quietly run his fingers through your hair as he whispers soft praise and loving words.

The next morning expect breakfast in bed and lots of kiss and praise.

Kunigami Resuke ⚽🦸🏻‍♂️:

Fluff:

Kunigami's love language is quailty time no doubt.

Kunigami wants you to feel special and he does that by spending time with you.

Little dates at the park, walking around the wall hand in hand, watching movies cuddled up together, all of it is quality time.

He does pick up some act of service traits.

Things like making sure you eat, making you bentos and such but he prefers spending time with you because it allows him to not only have his eyes on you but have your presence nearby.

Like why would he need to make sure you ate if he's sitting next to you at a café as you munch on a dessert he bought for his baby?

He loves taking you out whether it be out to a restaurant for a nice meal, a store to pick up some iteams or even the gym to have you cheer him on as he works out he will do it.

It doesn't even matter if you dislike outdoor activities, he will make you have so much fun it indoor activities.

Things like watching movies, painting, drawing, playing around are all normal occurrences when you both are home.

Things like this make Kunigami happy because he doesn't spend time with you often mainly due to blue lock and everything that comes with it.

All the time he has with you is memorial so don't worry about anything else.

He has small ways of making time for you to.

From spending less time practicing to calling off gatherings just to make time for you which he uses happily.

You can call him and say you want to spend time with him and he's already on his way-

Bonus points if you just called him because you missed him.

Expect lots of kisses and a movie marathon-

Angst:

Kunigami doesn't get upset often, he's really level headed so when he gets upset its a big deal.

You can tell he's upset by looking at the veins popping out on his face and how tight he's clutching his hands.

You don't have to do much.

Just find someway to take him away from what's irritating him.

It can anything, from not getting his goals, someone messing with him, even a opposing team who tried shit talking him.

Just grab him or tell him to leave and he'll follow you (not without sending a nasty glare to whatever made him upset-)

All you gotta do to calm him down is spend some time with him.

Hug his arm as you both walk around the streets to get fresh air, kiss his hands while you to sit watching movies, praise him as he lays his head against your shoulder.

Your entire being calms him down, he can never stay mad when he's around you and anyone can tell.

Just a little bit of your love is enough to calm his soul.

When your upset expect alot of attention.

No it's not physical either.

Kunigami is good at reading most people and depending on how long you've been together he can read you very well.

He can tell by the subtle things.

Your small groans as you work on something difficult, the nail/lip biting when your annoyed, the slight twitch of your eye when your about to snap.

He sees it all.

He's there when you need him.

His arms open if you want hugs, his lips already pressed against your temple when your angry , his hands rested gently on your face as you cry.

During this time he'll try to take you out.

It's usually to small restaurant and places of comfort for you but if your not in the mood he'll turn on some of your favorite programs and sit a bit away from you as you watch in silence.

He keeps his love at arms length always ready for you to push or pull him in depending on your mood.

Not in the mood to talk? No worries Kunigami is there waiting for you with snacks to stuff your face. Want to be held? He'll gently hold your body close to his while you listen to music. Wanna be alone? It's alright, he'll be waiting for you to come to him.

No matter how much you push him away he'll still stay close enough for you to know he's ready for you to spend time together.

He won't force it, and it's very natural.

If you fall asleep on the couch he'll gently pick you up and lay you in bed. If your already asleep in bed he'll take the couch so you can have time to yourself. If you want him, he'll snuggle up to you allowing your head to rest on his chest.

You will always have breakfast ready when you awake, your favorite show or movie playing for you to watch and a small blanket fort just for the two of you to watch said movie or show.

Also expect lots of kisses and dates the rest of the day-

He's gotta make sure his baby is okay you know :)

Nagi Seishiro 😪⚽:

Nagi's love language is physical touch and words of affirmation, mainly physical touch.

Nagi isn't someone who wants to get up, often times he's lazing around playing games or sleeping but he's good with his words.

He doesn't say much and is very blunt but he knows how to praise you.

He'll praise you for almost anything.

You can sitting down next to playing with his fingers as he plays his games. As soon as he wins he'll turn to you and praise you for helping him when even when you've done nothing.

Also he's a big cuddle bug.

He'll cuddle and hold you while he plays his games with his reasoning being your his good luck charm and having you in his arms makes him win.

His words and soft but firm cuddles give way to lots of quick naps and getting scolded by Reo-

To many times has Nagi cooed his way into your arms as he played his games, which quickly turned into a "small nap" which caused him to miss practice because you both were sleep for a few hours and that lead to you both being scolded by Reo only for it to happen again the following day-

Nagi is soft with his affirmations a stark contrast to his normally blunt speech.

He'll not only praise you but he'll coo at you to make things better.

You can be frustrated about not winning a game and he'll practically cooing in your ear about how he'll win for you and how good you did.

Will end up with you somehow in his arms curled up on the couch while he plays a game.

Many days you guys sleep on the couch because Nagi likes to cuddle you in smaller places due to it making you hold onto him tighter to not fall off.

Home dates are what Nagi is known for-

He'll even cancel stuff with Reo just to spend time with you cuddled on the couch watching some shitty comedy or even a dumb horror movie.

He's forgetful in the fact he'll forget dates you guys plan out which has lead to some arguments but it always ends up with you curled in Nagi's arms as he whispers small apologizes (even though he doesn't know what he did wrong-) and promising to do better.

Angst:

Listen you will never have the slightest idea this man is upset under no circumstances.

No expressions, no lack of communication (he barely speaks as is-), no hand movements, no nothing.

The only way you find out is either he tells you which is most times or if you ask him is he upset.

He's blunt about it and will tell you directly what he wants.

Whether it be words of how good he's done or holding him close in silence he'll make sure to let you know.

He'll get bored faster and just wants to be held in your arms, it makes him feel safe and wanted. He gets to be Nagi and not a genius. He gets to be your boyfriend instead of a tressure or a football(soccer) player. He gets to be himself instead off all the labels placed upon him.

When your upset in all honesty he won't notice it.

I mean literally-

Like he loves you but he won't notice the changes in behavior, the irritation or sadness, he won't notice any of it until you snap or fall into tears.

Only then will Nagi notice your upset.

He won't know what to do.

He does know that you need him so he'll turn off his games try to comfort you.

That usually includes him holding you, praising, trying to get you to watch movies with him and playing games.

If you don't want him near you, he'll try his best to convince you to play co-op with him. You wanna cry? Don't worry he's holding you close to his chest while mumbling small praises that your doing good. Want silence? He'll persuade you to play games with him in silence.

He'll be sure just to be there the way your there for him even if it's not physical.

He'll cuddle you until you fall asleep (or he does), if you don't want cuddles he'll hold your hand until you sleep (or he does-)

Your gonna be sore the next morning-

Not because of anything bad-

It's all because when you wake up Nagi is most likely going to laying ontop of you his arms around your torso, head ontop of yours, legs around your waist, his entire body weight ontop of your body and the lack of movement from your limbs will have you wishing you slept on the couch-

Or the floor-

Reo Mikage 💸⚽:

Gift giving.

Thats all-

I'm kidding but seriously this mans love language is gift giving.

That along with acts of service but mainly gift giving.

Reo loves the idea of pampering you in his (read his parents-) wealth and it shows.

He'll take you out to the most expensive places out there and get you whatever you want no matter the expense.

Saw a pair of shoes for over your budget? Don't worry Reo got them for you. Want to go to a very expensive restaurant but don't have enough money to get a reservation? No matter! Reo rented the entire place out for the two of you!

People sometimes think your a gold digger because of how much he spoils you but it's not like that.

Reo just loves spoiling you.

It can be with money or himself.

He'll wait by you on hand and foot.

Need something to drink? He's already got it for you. Your hungry? He ordered food the moment the words left your mouth and will try to feed you. Muscles sore? Poor baby, lay down so he can massage your sore muscles. Your feet hurt because of how much you two were walking? Its okay! Reo is bending down for you to get on his back, thats just how Reo is.

He loves you so much, but he won't baby you the way he does Nagi.

He gives you space but he's there at your bicken call.

You deserve the best and so he tries to give you the best ,though he'll slow down with gifts if your getting overwhelmed or uncomfortable.

Angst:

Easy to read.

You can see the clear irritation on Reo's face, not mention his cold demeanor to everyone but you.

He'll snap easily, his even swing on people who make him upset.

During these times take him somewhere private away from watchful eyes and hold him, praise him let him know you don't care what others think and just how much you love him.

Sometimes it may seem like your words didn't get through to him but they did you can tell by the gentle grip on your hips as he quietly nods along to what you say.

Just wants to be held when he's upset.

Just hold him and kiss him, he'll melt into you, his body flush against yours as you lay on the couch together you gently cradling his face as you pamper him with kisses.

Makes him feel special and very much loved not to mention seen.

When your upset he won't back off. He'll give you space but he'll try to cheer you up.

Money, new outfits, plushies, shoes, accessories, food, drinks the whole nine yards.

Anything you need he's got it for you, everything you want he'll buy no matter the cost or item.

If you want alone time he'll stay nearby that you call him but he won't be in eye or ear shot.

If you want affection, he'll be as affectionate as he can.

He'll hold you, letting you rest on his lap as he mumbles soft "it's okays" to you.

If you need to rant or rage he'll listen quietly. You need to cry? His shoulder is ready for you. Want to stay silent and sleep? He'll gently rub his hand along your back as he hums your favorite song until you either fall asleep or relax under his soft touch.

You can expect a nice breakfast ready for you when you awake, along with lots of gifts and sweet words.