#mexican street food near me

[t6506615]

Homemade vegetable soup in Houston | Mexican street food near me Houston - Tilas

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https://www.tilas.com/menu/

[opendragon]

had a four hour dream where my ex and i were stuck in the same house and arguing there was tension and intrigue and bright colors and family and chickens and people playing irl minecraft and cats. it was wonderful

[featherandferns]

risk (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | partly inspired by this incredible scene

content warnings: sexual content; physical violence

word count: 18k.

blurb: after a hurricane, a Labrador shows up at JJ's house. After some posters go up around the country, JJ begrudgingly returns the dog to you on Figure Eight. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

This is actually insane.

JJ has no idea how everything went to shit faster than a penny falling from the top of the Empire State Building. It seems to be the crux of his life.

One minute Rafe is beating the shit out of JJ’s face, Kelce holding him tight in a headlock, with Pope being strangled to his right by Topper, and the next everyone is still like rock.

There you stand, holding up a gun, safety unlatched, with the aim set directly at the centre of Rafe’s forehead. He’s already called your bluff once. It’s a classic Mexican stand-off. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next, not even JJ. Hell, he’s not even sure if you know what you’ll do next.

And it’s crazy to think that all of this started because of a dog.

Two Months Earlier

It always sucks when JJ admits to himself that Kiara was right. She was right about most things, in fairness, but just this once – just for a change – he had hoped that she wasn’t.

The blonde-haired boy stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a poster taped to a streetlamp. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip in thought as he tugs the poster free, as if gaining a closer look might change what he sees.

MISSING DOG

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO 12 SILVER CANOE WAY, FIGURE EIGHT

REWARD AVAILABLE

The picture is an uncanny reflection of the dog currently sat by JJ’s feet. He’s panting in the sun, blissfully unaware of the curveball tossed at his temporary owner. As JJ looks from the black-and-white poster to the middle-aged dog, he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that Kiara was right. This dog wasn’t a stray. Instead, he was the pet of some bratty, spoilt Kook.

“Whose dog is that?” Kiara asks.

JJ follows her gaze to the labrador cosied up on the porch, soaking up the sun like it was his God-given right.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours?”

“Yeah, he just showed up after the hurricane."

It was true. The morning after the hurricane, JJ ventured out of his house to assess the damage only to hear a rustling and whimper from under the porch. Getting down on his hands and knees, expecting to find some beaten racoon, JJ came face to face with a petrified, middle-aged labrador. No collar. His cream coat was covered in dirt and dust and a small cut near his eye told JJ he’d found his way to his house during the hurricane, likely seeking shelter. After he coaxed him out with some fresh fish, the dog seemed to take a liking to the seventeen-year-old. JJ took it as the dog distribution system shining the light on him but Kiara didn’t seem so sure.

“And you’re just gonna claim him?”

“He’s a stray,” JJ tells her.

She looks to the dog again, then back to JJ. Her face essentially says, ‘seriously, dude?’

“He is!”

“A dog that well-groomed and that well fed is not a stray, and you know it.”

JJ’s stomach twists. He’d thought the same thing once he’d given the dog a wipe down. A full stomach, trimmed fur, trained to do more than just sit…Strays don’t come like that in Kildare County. But JJ liked the company the dog brought. He’d always wanted one, ever since he was a kid, but his dad would never allow it. Waste of money and food, he’d say. But so far, JJ had managed to keep the dog’s existence on the downlow. He wasn’t very loud or yappy. In fact, he was as calm as sea turtle. JJ liked the bond that had so quickly grown between them. So, swallowing the faint feeling of guilt of keeping someone’s dog, he tells Kiara:

“Well, until someone puts a poster up, I’m sticking to my gut. He’s a stray and he belongs with me.”

It’s like the universe was calling his bluff or something.

JJ crumples the poster in his fist, litters it on the street, and gently tugs on the leash.

“Come on, boy,” he mutters.

The dog gets to its feet and follows JJ down the street, back to the Chateau. He seems rather drained from the brief walk around the cut. Curls up by the front door in a patch of shade, yawning before nestling his head between his large paws for a nap. JJ watches him from the kitchen as he sips on a cold cider. His mind is in battle between right and wrong (as it usually is) as he contemplates the poster.

Kiara nearly falls over the dog as she walks into the Chateau. Then, she shoots a deadly glare to JJ.

“You didn’t go to the vet, did you?”

“Who actually microchips their pets, anyway?”

“Most people, JJ. It’s a clever way to make sure you get your dog back if, let’s say, it runs off in a hurricane without a collar,” Kie returns.

JJ rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his drink. “I’ll take him tomorrow.”

“Actually, there’s no need,” Kiara says. She walks across the room to him and pulls something from her back pocket. As she unfolds the rectangle of paper, JJ comes face to face with the very poster that had been occupying his mind for the past half hour. She holds it out to him.

“See? This is someone’s dog.”

“That could be any dog,” JJ lies.

Kiara quirks a brow. JJ breaks easily, sighing.

“Look, can we just consider the possibility that this dog would be happier with me?” JJ argues. He ditches his cider and makes his way over to the animal. “I mean, he likes me, Kie. And he listens to me. And I like having him around.”

Lowering to his knees, he pets the dog awake from his slumber. He makes an adorable grumbling-whine as he rouses from his sleep. Looking over to Kiara, JJ must resemble an eight-year-old begging their parents for candy at the grocery store.

“I’ll take good care of him,” he promises.

Kiara sighs. Her icy exterior softens, features overcome with sympathy. She joins him and the dog on the floor, scratching at the pet’s back.

“I know you will, JJ,” she says. “But this is someone’s pet. And they clearly want him back. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Since when do I ever do the right thing?” JJ mumbles. He looks down to meet the chocolate brown eyes of his new best friend.

“Since today, hopefully.”

JJ holds the dog’s gaze. There’s such tenderness in his eyes, as the dog stares up at him. Makes JJ feel as though he is the most important thing on this earth. Dogs don’t care about money or mind: you treat them right and give them a good stick, and they’ll be happy forever. Unconditional love like that is rare to find in humans. It seems to JJ like it’s almost impossible, really. But then he thinks of the dog looking at a little girl or boy like that, and how (as spoilt as they may be) the child feels nothing but love for the dog in return. It seems cruel to take that away. He knows deep down what the right thing is. The moral thing.

“Tomorrow,” JJ quietly says. Looking up, meeting Kiara’s eyes, he nods reluctantly. “I’ll take him to the house tomorrow.”

She smiles smally, nodding to herself. Getting to her feet, she leaves JJ alone with the dog to enjoy the last few hours of time together. He ends up falling asleep on the pull-out couch with the dog, face buried in the scruff of his neck, as he unconsciously counts down the hours left until he gives him back.

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

JJ stretches out the walk to the house for as long as possible. He lets the dog sniff at every scent and even tries to coax a million pee breaks out of him. He lingers by the sea, stroking the dog’s fur, and shares a hot dog as they pass a gas station. Eventually, they arrive at Figure Eight. The hurricane left the cell towers down on The Cut, so he didn’t bother with his phone. That leaves him to follow street signs until he’s making his way up Silver Canoe Way.

The houses are insane. Marvels of architecture and money. Bright green hedges trimmed into the most obscure shapes; useless statutes standing pretty in front gardens, protected by walls and security cameras. Fountains on almost every property, and a pool probably found in every back garden. Lucky sons of bitches.

House 12 is gorgeous: cream stone bricks and oak-style wood accents. There isn’t a gate, which is curious considering all the others down the road have one. JJ feels as though he’s trespassing as he makes his way up the driveway. There's not a single weed sprouting between paving slabs. There’re two cars in the driveway, each probably cost more than his life insurance pay-out. He imagines birds that dare shit on them get taxed: it’s the only way to explain their cleanliness. God, living like this and he can half understand why Kooks are as obnoxious as they are. What appear to be marble steps lead to a huge front door. The dog seems to know where he is, tugging excitedly on the leash as he guides JJ up the stairs.

JJ stands for a long moment. He looks down at the dog, takes in its wagging tail, and sighs. As he lifts his fist to rap against the door, it swings open. JJ is just as stunned as you. He doesn’t have time to apologise for startling you, because your eyes drop from JJ to the barking dog. You sink to the floor, mouth falling open, and willingly let your dog tackle you in a hug. His leash slips from JJ’s hold. You scruff the dog’s neck, press kisses all over his face, and giggle tearfully as your dog greets you after almost a week apart.

“Oh my God! Ranger! Oh my God!” you happily cry over and over again.

JJ immediately feels evil for even contemplating keeping your dog, Ranger, to himself.

The moment Ranger seems to gain some composure, you remember JJ’s existence. Looking up, you quickly wipe away your tears from under your eyes and clamber back to your feet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so rude!” you laugh, sticking out a hand. He shakes it as you introduce yourself.

“JJ,” he replies.

There’s a moment of recognition that passes over your face but it’s gone as soon as it comes, like the flash of green at sunset on the horizon.

“Thank you so much,” you say. One of your hands reaches down to ruffle at Ranger’s neck. JJ takes in how happy he is, staring up at you, grinning and panting, tongue out with exertion. “Where did you find him?”

“He kinda found me,” JJ replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Showed up under my house just after the hurricane. Guessing he got spooked or something.”

“That’s what we think happened,” you say. “I woke up to find the backdoor open. He must have jumped and bolted; he frightens easy, you see. I felt awful when I realised he was gone.”

As JJ listens to you speak, he’s partly distracted. It’s hard to follow along to what you say when you’re standing gorgeous like the first day of June.

“Well, like I said, it’s no trouble,” JJ repeats.

You smile brighter than a brand-new penny, teeth pearly white and perfect aligned. JJ doubts you ever needed braces. Probably born with a set of veneers. It’s with that bitter thought that he reminds himself what he’s dealing with here. A kook who lives in nothing short of a mansion, who can’t even keep her dog inside during a hurricane.

“The, uh, poster said something about a reward…” JJ awkwardly mentions.

Your face dawns with realisation and he momentarily feels guilty, but then you’re nodding fervently. “Of course! God, I can’t believe I forgot!”

“I mean, I would have brought him back anyway,” JJ bold face lies.

“No, don’t be silly, it’s the least I owe.” You pull your door open. “Come in, please,” you say, heading into your home.

JJ falters in the doorway. It feels as though even stepping into your home might put him short of a few hundred bucks, just from breathing the air. He follows the route you took into the house, closing the door behind him. The minute he’s out of the entryway and in the main corridor, his eyes widen like he’s witnessing a supernova.

“Holy super kook,” he mutters, gaping at the interior.

Marble everything. Expensive obnoxious artwork that must only be interpretable once you reach a certain tax bracket. Framed photos of yourself and your family on the wall at various vacation spots: France, Italy, Mexico, China. There are others, too, of dance recitals. A shelf of trophies and awards. Ornaments and figurines standing on podiums like he’s in a museum. JJ’s terrified to walk, as if one step might send everything falling off the walls.

He finds himself blindly following you into the kitchen. It’s crystal clean and white. Granite counter tops beautifully cluttered with every appliance you can imagine. You head to the fridge.

“You want a drink?”

“Uh, sure. Water’s fine, thanks,” JJ replies.

You nod and grab a glass that probably costs JJ’s entire monthly wage. Then you go to your fridge (it has a touchscreen for Christ’s sake) and dispense ice cold water. Holding it out to him, you smile, sweet like buttercream.

JJ sips and watches as you reach for a bag that lies on the kitchen counter, retrieving a wallet. Holding out two fifties, you wait for him to take them. His eyes stare at the unwrinkled notes. JJ’s momentary pause makes you frown.

“Sorry, that’s a bit tight of me, isn’t it?” you say. You dip into the bottomless wallet and retrieve another fifty. “Is that enough?”

“Uh, I couldn’t…” He clears his throat and finally snaps out of his stupor. Taking the money, he passes two fifties back, saying, “I can’t take all of this.”

You shake your head and push the money back towards him.

“I insist. You brought my dog back! I should be giving you more,” you say.

JJ holds back his laugh.

More? It’s a fucking dog! You’re about to give him $150 for a Goddamn seven-year-old labrador? God, Kooks really do just think different.

He looks up from the money and takes you in, properly this time. JJ recognises you. Not from keggers or house parties – he’s seen you at neither of those things – but from church. He used to be subjected to Sunday school in a desperate bid to ‘send him on the right life path’, and he could remember seeing you there. You’d attend the service, sat safe in your father’s shadow. Even though JJ stopped going, he’d still see people heading in the direction of the county church if he were in the area. You were a regular. Dressed in the prettiest dresses, hair perfect and proper, jewellery to the nines, always sandwiched between your mother and father. You didn’t indulge in the debauchery that most teenagers on the island did. JJ would know if he’d spotted you at one of the many hangs; you had the kind of beauty that demanded to be seen, like a rare bird on the marsh. No, girls like you didn’t partake in those things. You spent time with your parents and a small circle of Church friends, probably just as sheltered and saintly as yourself, and was in bed before sunset and awake before sunrise.  

And yet, you never rubbed JJ the wrong way like all the other Kooks did. He didn’t know you from Adam – in fact, the first time he’d ever shared a word with you was today – but something about you…You seemed different. Genuine. Rich, no doubt, but not exactly snobbish.

An idea suddenly comes to JJ. It’s stupid, and rather out of character given his prejudices, but for some reason, it’s miles more appealing than $150. A part of him wonders where his sudden charity is coming from. Maybe it’s something about your personality and his underlying infatuation he’s had with you since Sunday school. Maybe it’s your dog and how doting he appears to be of you. Hell, maybe it’s because you’re pretty. JJ’s always been a sucker for pretty girls – Kook or not – and he’s always wanted the things that he can’t have.

All these thoughts race through his head at a hundred miles an hour, and there’s only half a minute that passes before JJ speaks.

“How ‘bout this?” he says. “I take a fifty, and you let me take you out.”

You blink once, then twice. “Take me out? Like…on a date?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. The fact that your whole face didn’t immediately shrivel up like a prune at the suggestion gives JJ hope that he might have a chance. “What’d you say?”

There’s a moment where your eyes dip down to Ranger. He’s sat at your feet, watching the two of you interact with his tongue hanging out, mouth in a seeming smile. The second your eyes lock with your dog's, you look back to JJ with new-found confidence.

“Depends,” you say, correcting your posture, chin held high. “What did you have in mind?”

JJ’s never had to pitch a date to a girl before in his life. Usually he asks and they’re there: hook, line and sinker. His brain thinks hard and fast. “I can pick you up. Go for a drive, grab a bite maybe. Get to know one another,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Is that all?”

Of course, you have standards. Hell, the guys that court you probably dine you at The Ritz and gift you a Rolex. JJ isn’t deterred though. Instead, he’s rather amused.

With a boyish grin, he says, “princess, I promise one date with me and I’ll change your life forever.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Bold statement to make, Maybank.”  

JJ takes note of how you know his last name and thinks back to when he introduced himself; that strange flash of recognition on your face. You know who he is and yet, you’re entertaining the idea of letting him take you out. Curiouser and curiouser.

JJ doesn’t beg or barter. Instead, he just stares you down, waiting for your response as you visibly contemplate his offer. There’s a hint of a smile on your face, the type that might come when you’re trying to suss someone out. It’s barely there but JJ’s sure he can see it. He knows that look all too well.

“When would this be?”

JJ’s painfully aware of how desperate he may sound as he says, “Tomorrow night?”

“I have ballet practice tomorrow.”

“Thursday then.”

“Piano recital.”

“Jesus, woman,” he can’t help but mutter. It makes you smile.

“I’m free Friday,” you offer.

And, holy shit, no way you’re actually agreeing to this. JJ hopes the shock doesn't show on his face.

“Friday works. The, uh, cell towers are down on The Cut so how ‘bout I just pick you up? Seven thirty sound good?”

“Sure.”

You speak in a manner that tries to give the impression that this whole conversation is rather mundane to you. That you have Pogues asking you out every other hour, almost like a nine-to-five job.

“But pick me up on the street outside, not in the driveway.”

JJ doesn’t question it. He’s not going to argue to your terms when he’s somehow landed a date with the hottest, goody-two-shoes kook in Kildare.

“Alright. On the street, Friday at seven thirty. Wear something pretty, yeah?”

Your brows quirk. “Any other demands?”

“Yeah. Give me a fair chance?” JJ wonders, half-joking.

Your eyes flit from JJ’s face, down his body, right to his toes, and back again. Smiling, sweet like cotton candy, you reply, “I think I can do that.”

His body goes ice cold. JJ nods, cementing the dates and times in his memory like he’s remembering nuclear launch codes.

“Then, I guess I’ll see you soon, princess."

“I guess so,” you say, returning the leftover fifties to your wallet. JJ pockets his fifty, gives one last pet to Ranger in farewell, and shows himself to the front door. As it shuts behind him, JJ leans against it. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Then, he laughs. He laughs and laughs, mouth upturned in an astounded smile, and shakes his head.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles to himself.

John B is not going to believe this. None of the Pogues are.

Rubbing at his face in disbelief, JJ repeats, “no fucking way” one last time before walking down the driveway. He spares one last glance at the house. Friday. Seven-thirty.

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

JJ has never been one to care all that much about his appearance. Half of his clothes have a hole in them somewhere, whether it be on the collar or in a pocket, and his hair is constantly tousled with salt-water from the sea. He isn’t unclean though. He showers and shaves and washes his clothes (though perhaps not as much as he should). He doesn’t think he’s bad looking, either. Lived experience shows that to be true, as he’s never struggled to land a date or hook-up. But there’s something about you, something about this particular meeting, that has him turfing through his chest of drawers.

He’s pretty sure he’s settled on an outfit. It’s ironic that it looks almost thrown together when JJ’s spent fifteen minutes obsessing over it. He washed his hair with shampoo and conditioner (that he stole from Kiara) and even used some hair wax to try and style it. Again, it probably looks the same as usual, but he feels better for it.

All the faffing leaves him running late. It’s closer to 7:45 than 7:30 by the time JJ pulls up your road on his bike. He’s aware of how loud the engine is in this area, rumbling as he slows to a stop. You’re stood in the sidewalk, arms crossed anxiously over your chest, glancing up and down the street. As JJ approaches, your eyes fall on him and a nervous smile sparks to life. JJ bullshits himself by labelling his hammering heart as adrenaline from riding a dirt bike on Figure Eight. You push some of your hair behind your ear as you walk up to meet him halfway. You’re practically glowing under the sunset sky, skin shiny with body butter like you’ve been bathed in glitter. He shuts off the engine and sits back in the seat.

“You’re late."

JJ cringes playfully. “My bad?”

“Mhm.”

You step over to him and linger by his bike. He quirks a brow. “You hopping on?”

As your eyes survey the vehicle, JJ starts to grin, smug. “You ever been on a bike before?”

“Course,” you say, almost too quickly. “Just…Not one like this.”

JJ offers out a hand and you hesitate for a second before taking it. Grasping your hand in his, you climb onto the back of his bike. Your summer dress rides up as you do and you nervously tug it down. Then, your arms gently loop around his waist. Laughing, JJ shakes his head. He tightens your grip on him.

“Gotta hold on tight or you’ll fly off,” JJ remarks.

“Promise not to do anything stupid?” you say, voice thick with nerves.

JJ starts up the engine. “Princess, I can’t promise anything like that,” he grins. Looking over his shoulder, meeting your terrified eyes, he softens his smile. “But I promise you’re safe.”

Your own smile battles through the queasy nervousness. JJ revs the engine and turns his head back to the road, and then he sets off. Your arms immediately latch tighter like a vice. It makes him laugh, and you mutter a meek ‘shut up’ in reply. Having you close like this; he can smell your perfume. It’s expensive, encapsulating you like you’ve been doused in it. Several bangle style bracelets lining your wrists press into his skin through his t-shirt, only slightly uncomfortable, and when he turns a corner, they shift and jangle melodically together.

Zipping down the roads of Figure Eight, JJ drags out the journey the same way he did walking Ranger back to your house. Gradually, mansions turn to shacks and quaint homes, and well-kept children’s parks into overgrown yards surrounded with chain-link fence.

He pulls down a dirt track, heading nearer to the marshland, and eventually comes to a stop. You catch your breath as he turns off the engine.

“Feeling alright?” he checks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply.

You look a little windswept. Instinctively, JJ reaches out a hand to brush some hair from your face. Embarrassed, you help, calming down your hair and fixing your appearance. Then you use JJ’s shoulders as an anchor, climbing off his bike.

“So…You brought me out to middle of nowhere…” you say, looking around.

JJ kicks on the stand and pulls the keys form the ignition. “Scared?”

“Should I be?”

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on. I got something planned.”

He takes your hand, smiling to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his, and guides the two of you through the shrubs towards the water side. The P.M.S. Pogue sits moored in the marsh. A loan, if he helps John B clean out the chicken hut next week.

“Now, I know this probably ain’t like all the fancy yachts you and your folks have,” JJ starts, walking up to the boat side. “But I promise it runs like a dream.”

As he looks back to you, JJ’s eyes shamelessly sweep along your figure. The dress you’re wearing is pastel green adorned with dainty flowers of white and ivy. It ends just past the point of tortuous on your legs. You’re pretty as a vine and sweet like a grape, decorated with expensive jewellery. Pearl earrings and a Tiffany necklace. On your wrist, though, JJ finds a series of handmade friendship bracelets amongst your bangles. They’re made with shells and beads and tiny pendants of silver. Several rings sit pretty on your fingers.

Looking back to the boat, JJ pulls the ladder free with a grunt. It creaks from want of use: himself and the Pogues usually just climb inside or jump on from the jetty. “Ladies first,” he says, offering out a hand.

You look between his hand and the ladder, and then something deterministic overcomes your face as you place your hands on lip of the boat. With a huff, you use whatever upper body strength you have to climb up. JJ stands, taken aback, and his eyes falls to your bare legs. Your toes are pointed, calve muscles tense and strong, and he can almost picture you in pointe ballet slippers. Amused, JJ lets you clamber up into the boat. Sighing, you correct your dress and jewellery before looking down at him.

“Well? You coming?”

JJ gives a small laugh before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

He climbs with significantly less difficulty than yourself, proudly flexing his muscles as he does, shameless in his peacocking. When he gets to his feet, he finds you staring. “Like what you see?”

Your face flushes. You try and play it off though. “Just checking if you needed a hand.”

JJ grins, playing along, and you roll your eyes and walk to the wheel of the boat. He follows, pulling the keys from his short pockets, and turns on the engine which sputters to life. You hold onto the side of the steering hold as JJ guides the two of you into the marsh.

“You wanna steer?” he asks once you’re in wider waters.

You wordlessly step up and take the wheel. It’s easy, guiding the boat along. JJ hovers behind you, testing the waters by placing a hand on your waist. You don’t shrug him off. Soon enough, JJ’s placing a hand back on the wheel and guiding you to a certain spot.

“I found this place a while ago,” he says over your shoulder as he steers. He can feel your gaze on him. It’s terrifying, having you so close to him. God, he hopes it doesn’t show. “Best stargazing spot in the whole county.”

He slows the engine to a shuddering stop and steps away to toss the anchor down. It’s silent out in the water, asides from sea birds and marsh-side insects. Fish that break to the surface for a split-second disturb the water every now and then. Crickets and distant hooting owls. It’s dark now, too. Everything painted in a dusky blue. JJ grabs the old blanket that he stole from the twinkie and lies it down on the nose of the boat.

“Here,” he calls.

You make your way over, accepting his hand as you step up. The two of you settle to lay side by side. JJ tucks his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. You stare at the sky, eyes falling open at the endless expanse.

“Woah.”

“Pretty sick, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing quietly. “It’s awesome.”

JJ grins. Nailed it.

For a while, the two of you just stargaze. He can hear your breathing, steady and calm, and once more your perfume invades his senses. A bottle of the stuff probably cost more than his bike. That thought prompts him to break the silence. Sitting up, he looks down at you.

“Alright, I gotta ask,” he says.

You sit up on your elbows, curiosity piqued. It takes everything in JJ to keep his eyes trained on your face and not your chest.

“Why’d you agree to go out with me?”

You smile, somewhat amused. It’s like you’ve been waiting for him to ask. “Well, that’s an easy question.”

“Oh, is it now?”

“Mhm,” you grin, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Christ, you’re angelic. “Ranger.”

“Your dog?”

“Yep.”

“What? You kooks manage to translate what they bark about or something? He give you some words of wisdom?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Sitting up fully, your bracelets chime together. “He liked you.”

“Yeah?” JJ says, brows tugging together in confusion.

“Ranger doesn’t trust easy. He’s a rescue and he practically chose me. The shelter people said he hadn’t let anyone near him since arriving, but with me, he came running over, like he knew me or something. He likes men even less. He won’t let my daddy within five yards of him without barking and cowering. He wouldn’t hurt you, but he gets scared and jumpy. But he seemed to like you. Seemed to trust you.”

“So, that made you agree to go out with me?” JJ checks.

Shrugging, you simply reply, “dogs are the best judge of character, after all.”

Humming in thought, JJ looks out to the marsh as he considers what you’ve said. It’s a little hilarious that a runaway dog is the reason that he’s got you here, alone, on the P.M.S. Pogue.

“My turn,” you say, seemingly initiating a game of twenty-one questions. JJ looks back to you. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Pretty obvious. You’re fucking gorgeous,” JJ replies.

Whilst your smile turns to mush, you roll your eyes and act as if you’re unaffected by his words. “Seriously, though. I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Smoking hot girls? Nah, you’re pretty much my type to a T,” JJ goes on, charming smile in full view.

“What about Kiara?”

JJ gives a bemused smile. “What about Kie?”

“I know she hangs out with you guys. We’re pretty different people, me and her.”

It’s obvious that you’re far from low maintenance. You're proud of being a kook. You don’t shy away from it: happy to show off your money and beauty. JJ doesn’t get the sense that you’re haughty but it seems rather clear that you live your life to a certain standard.

JJ shrugs. “Guess that’s why I’m not dating her.”

“I know your reputation, you know. About all the girls you hook-up with and stuff.”

“Oh. You jealous or something?”

“No,” you say. Voice turning softer, you continue. “But I feel like I should to tell you that I’m not the kind of girl who has a lot of hook-ups. Or the kind who puts out on the first date.” When JJ doesn’t say anything, you feel the need to add, “just, before you get your hopes up.”

Pursing his lips, JJ nods slowly. He had a feeling that was going to be the case. You weren’t exactly known in the community for being particularly flirtatious. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known any guy to date you. From the way you spoke, careful with your words, and the way you acted, you were almost made of solid gold: pure through and through. So, having you take sex off the table for the foreseeable future didn’t exactly blind-side JJ. That to say, if you had offered it up, he would have jumped at the opportunity. God, he’s half sure he’d die if he ever saw you naked.

He could be a gentleman, though. He could. Something about you had JJ entranced outside of just the physical. So, if a hook-up wasn’t in the cards, maybe getting to know you might be all the better.

He’ll just have to learn to keep his eyes and his dick to himself.

Sighing, JJ lowers himself to lay down again. This time, he only tucks one arm behind his head. The other, he outstretches into your expanse of the blanket.

“Alright, princess. I think I can live with that,” he says.

Seemingly content with his reply, you lay back down, resting your head in the nook of his arm.

“It’s your turn,” you quietly say after a moment’s quiet.

“To do what?”

“Ask a question.”

JJ filters through the many in his mind, tucking the inappropriate ones away for a later date, and finally settles. “Alright. Was Ranger the only reason you agreed to go on a date with me?”

You let out a small tuneful hum of contemplation. “No. I wanted to see what you were like.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’ve seen you around the island and heard the stories. I suppose I wanted to know for myself,” you say. “Plus, I always do what I’m supposed to do. I guess I wanted to do the opposite, for a change.”

“Rebelling against your dear old daddy with the derelict from the Cut?” JJ jokingly asks.

“Hmm. Something like that,” you say, playing along. You turn your head to the side and meet JJ's eyes. “You’re just a pawn in my game, Maybank.”

JJ’s too sucker-punched from that to come up with something witty in reply. There’s a foreign thump in his chest and a selcouth feeling in the back of his throat as you look at him. JJ swallows it away, returning his attention to the star-lit sky.

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

JJ revels in the miracle that he landed a second date with you as he fixes his hair in John B’s bathroom mirror. His best friend sits on the closed toilet lid, watching him.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing her again,” John B says for the millionth time.

JJ grins at his reflection. “I know.”

“I mean, what do you guys even talk about?” JB continues, face contorted in confusion.

JJ shrugs. “I don’t know. We just spent the other night talking about all sorts, really.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t being paid to go out with you?”

“Maybe the first time, but not this time, no,” JJ replies. He stops messing with his hair. Licks over his teeth, checking for trapped food, and dusts of his t-shirt. Looking to his friend, JJ asks, “how do I look?”

John B barely takes his appearance in before saying, “like she’s out of your league.”

“Come on, man,” JJ groans, shoving his best friend’s shoulder. He leaves the bathroom, John B hot on his tail. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. That I’m macking on a kook and you ain’t,” JJ tells him. Opening the fridge, he tosses a beer to John B before taking one for himself. “I know you’ve had a thing for Sarah Cameron since we were kids.”

“No,” John B quickly says, shaking his head. “No, no, I do not have ‘a thing’ for Sarah Cameron.”

“JB, you’re a terrible liar,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of his drink. Liquid confidence. Eyes glancing up to the clock hung on the chateau’s kitchen wall, he reckons he has about five minutes before he should leave for your house.

“So, seriously: what is this? Why this new flavour of the month?” John B grills.

JJ shrugs. “I dunno man. She’s just…She’s cute. And hot. And rich, and easy to talk to, and kinda funny, and, oh did I mention, rich as fuck. I don’t see any downsides, really.”

“Mhm, well, I do,” John B gladly counters. “She’s a kook.”

“Yeah, but she’s not like a kook kook. Kinda like how Kiara’s a kook,” JJ argues.

John B looks bewildered. “She is nothing like Kiara.”

“Alright, not in personality or looks or actual money, but in general kook-ness.”

“All I’m saying is that if you think this thing has a long shelf-life, you’re way more crazy than I thought you were,” John B says.

JJ doesn’t reply. Downing the rest of his can, he tosses it at the trash can (dismally misses) and heads for the front door. As he goes, he taps John B on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

“Nice to know you’re rooting for me, man,” he jovially says in farewell.

Then, he’s heading down the porch steps, climbing onto his bike, and setting sights for your house for the fourth time in his life.

Your house stands like a castle in the streets. JJ practically sees the driveway as a crocodile infested moat. He waits on the street at the foot of the driveway for you, arriving in time to see you make your way down the drive. You’re dressed in Levi shorts and a Tommy Hilfiger shirt, designer sandals on your decorated feet with anklets and toe rings. JJ sits back on his seat, engine running, and finds himself grinning as you smile at him. When did that start to happen?

“Not late this time, huh?” you playfully say.

“Learnt my lesson.”

You don’t hesitate as you climb on the back of his bike. You wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers splaying out across his chest over his t-shirt. JJ revs the engine.

“Ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

Grinning, JJ sets off down the street.

Once again, you’d left the plans in JJ’s hands. It was a little surreal to him, how trusting you were of him. Might be a place of concern, even. But, hey, JJ will take the win.

It’s still light when you get to the cliffside. From here, the view is incredible. An orange-pink sky that looks like it might taste of tangerine and peach hangs above a rolling sea. The view stretches on for miles, with the mainland off along the horizon.

JJ admires you as you stand in breeze, looking out at the view. You turn to face him.

“Why does every place I let you take me get more and more concerning every time?”

“We’re going cliff jumping,” is JJ’s reply.  

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your head. “That’s called suicide, JJ.”

“Nah, not here,” he says, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and tries to coax you nearer to the edge so you can see the drop. “Water’s plenty deep and cliff’s plenty high. It’s fun.”

You catch on that he’s not joking. Laughing nervously, you shake your head and take several large steps back to safety. “No, no, no.”

“Come on! It’s fun!” JJ swears.

Your smile begins to fade and your head shakes faster. “No way. I don’t do…That. And I’ll ruin my hair. And what about my jewellery?”

“You can take off your jewellery,” JJ argues, walking towards you, “and your hair’ll look good either way.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort, eyeing him up as your arms cross over your chest. “You’re a guy.”

“First of all: rude.”

JJ tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Your eyes instinctively glance down at his chest. JJ doesn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“Second of all: live a little, princess.”

You scoff. “I live plenty, thank you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Have you ever been to Paris? Seen the Eiffel tower? Been in the catacombs? Or gone to Italy and tasted wine fresh from a vineyard?”

JJ raises a brow, sarcastic as he says, “yeah, every Tuesday. Now come on.”

He grabs for your wrist, tugging you towards him. You don’t push him away as he lifts his fingers to the clasp of your necklace, only momentarily struggling to get it loose. He gently places it on top of his t-shirt, and soon your many rings follow. You lean down and take off your toe rings and anklets, and then your earrings. The handmade bracelets stay, though. Standing upright, you take a shaky breath.

“Look, you don’t have to,” JJ quietly says. He can see the fear clear as day on your face. But you shake your head, newly determined by his offer of an out. Clearly you don’t like having your bluff called.

JJ’s eyes nearly fall out of his head as you pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even have time to recover before your wriggling out of your shorts, stepping out of them and carelessly tossing them onto the pile of clothes and accessories like you got them from a bargain bin at a thrift store. Stepping out of your sandals, standing proud in matching Calvin Klein underwear, you grab his hand and interlock your fingers, guiding the two of you to the cliffside. As you pull him into motion, JJ comes out of his filthy thoughts, mouth dry.

You come to a sudden stop a safe three feet away from the edge. JJ’s done this too many times to count but the adrenaline that floods the system before the first jump shocks him every time like a cold plunge. You gnaw on your lower lip in trepidation. JJ squeezes your fingers, mutters your name, and captures your attention.

“You trust me?”

Your beautiful eyes dance across his face. JJ almost sees you go calm, like a baby soothed by its favourite nursery rhyme. It seems that his question, as simple as it is, made something click in your mind.

“Yeah,” you breathe, as if realising it in the moment. “I do.”

With that, JJ gives one last squeeze to your hand and a fleeting smile, and then he starts running towards the cliffside. You run too, only a step behind, and the two of you hurl yourselves off the edge at the same time. Your scream echoes in the wind as air rushes past JJ’s ears. He whoops on his way down. The two of you pummel down towards the water, your hand never leaving his until you reach the surface. His eyes press shut and he prepares for impact as he crashes into the depths. The water is cold but not icy – it cools his skin comfortably. Everything goes quiet in the water, mellowed out and muted. JJ pushes to the surface and takes a breath of air, shoving wet hair off his face. As he looks around, treading water in the currents, he feels the adrenaline rise once more when he can’t find you.

JJ starts calling out your name, looking left and right and left again. Just as he’s about to dive under, you break. He gasps out in relief.

The minute your eyes open, they land on him. Then, the biggest smile he’s ever seen comes over your face. It etches itself on his brain with permanent marker. JJ could be senile and decrepit and still remember that look on your face.

“That was amazing!” you scream, throwing your hands up, spraying water everywhere. “Oh my God! We have to do that again!”

JJ laughs, soaking in your joy.

It’s weird seeing you, wet and without all your dressings. It’s like seeing a priceless painting outside of its frame: it makes it somehow even more beautiful. The setting sun warms your wet skin as you throw your head back, eyes shut, grinning like a mad man. JJ wants to seal this moment in resin and place it on his mantle as a keepsake.

You make JJ climb up that cliff and jump into the ocean about five times over, until the sun has almost fully set and you can’t risk the dark. As it slowly inches down and down towards the horizon, you and JJ sit side by side on the grass. Your hand is so close to his, fingers reaching out like growing ivy, teasing at making contact. The moment the jumping was done, you’d returned all your jewellery to your body. It sparkles with the damp. As his eyes drift down from your profile to your figure, he picks up on those handmade bracelets again.

“What’s with the friendship bracelets?” JJ asks.

You look down at them then up at JJ. “I make them.”

“Why?”

Laughing, you shrug. “I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything?”

“Do you sell them?”

“No,” you say, messing with one. “I just enjoy doing it. I make them for my friends.”

“That’s sweet,” JJ hums, looking back out to the view.

“What about your shark tooth necklace? Someone make that for you?” you ask.

JJ glances down at it. “My ma. She used to collect shark teeth that washed up on the beach.”

“Well, she’s pretty talented,” you smile. “Maybe she can make one for me, one day.”

JJ swallows thickly, jaw ticking tight. “She, uh, ain't around anymore.”

“Oh…I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

The awkward quiet that comes passes like a summer breeze. Sighing contentedly, the two of you watch as the world gets darker and darker, and the sun gets lower and lower.

“So, how are you finding it?”

“Finding what?” you ask.

JJ gestures to himself, to everything around him.  “This. Pogue-life. Rebelling against your dad. Not doing as you’re told.”

You laugh, shaking your head. JJ watches as you pull your knees up to your chest, sitting dainty as a robin balanced on a branch. Tucking some hair behind your ears, you look out to the horizon as if caught in a daydream. A solemn look threatens to cross your face as you say, “it’s making me realise just how much I’ve been missing out on.”

And that…JJ wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting one of your usual playful jabs, soaked in sarcasm. Not that. It makes you more human and less Kook. More real. More attainable, even, for JJ. It’s like with every minute he spends in your orbit, he gets closer and closer to you. But everyone knows the story of Icarus, and what happens when you fly too close to the sun.  

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

By the fourth date, JJ’s practically foaming at the mouth, feral from restraint.

He still hadn’t kissed you. Hadn’t had the opportunity. You’d kept teasing him with it, temporarily placing it on the table before taking it away. He knew he had to go about this carefully. One wrong move and he could screw up all his hard work and send you off running.

What surprised JJ more than most was the fact that feeling your body under him was one of the lowest ranking motivators to spend time with you. Don’t get it twisted – it was still a pretty bloody strong motivator – but JJ wanted to know you and be known by you. You were interesting and captivating, and caring and kind. You were funny and had this sweet sense of humour that glimmered through from time to time, like a kaleidoscope hanging from a window-frame. With every minute in your company, his prejudice of Kooks was dismantled piece by piece. One run in with Rafe or Topper and it would probably be rekindled ten-fold, but for now, JJ learnt to see past it. You were a little out of touch but you didn’t act like you were better than him. Then again, he hadn’t taken you to his house or the Chateau yet. He kept the dates on common ground, where he never felt out of his depths or wallowing within them.

You hit like a crisp, ice-cold beer on the hottest day of summer. More intoxicating than any blunt he’s ever smoked, or any line he’s ever snorted. Light like a feather in how you move, soft like rain and driven like fresh laid snow. You had hijacked nearly all of JJ’s thoughts, in one way or another, and it fucking terrified him.

“So, I went for white and pastel blue. I think they’re cute. What do you think?”

You hold your fingers out for JJ to inspect your nails. JJ couldn’t care less about nails – half the time, his are dirtied with mud and oil – but you care an awful lot, so he can pretend. To be honest, he had only been half-listening to your story. His eyes had been fixated on your lips, daydreaming about how they’d feed against his own, how soft they might be as he nips at them with his teeth, how wet they might be if he were to slip his dick between them…

“JJ?”

He blinks out of his gutter-brain and takes in your nails.

“They’re pretty. I like the, uh, sheen on them,” he says.

You practically become alight with the comment. It feels like another brownie point that he can tally. Bringing them to your gaze, you nod fervently. “Right? I’ve never gotten metallic powder on them but I think I like it.”

With that, you sigh and lay back on your towel. The two of you are at the beach and have been since two in the afternoon. It’s now nearly seven in the evening. JJ thinks you’re at your prettiest in the golden hour. It’s like God himself is shining a spotlight on you, highlighting every perfection of your features. The way your designer jewellery twinkles in the rays, the sun-kissed sheen of your cheeks, the ethereal-like glow of your eyes…It’s taking everything not to look at your body, proudly displayed in a bikini. It’s blue. It seems you like blue an awful lot.

JJ distracts himself from your figure and his tightening swim shorts by petting Ranger. He’d tagged along for the day and is currently napping in the sun. You’d brought plenty of water and dog snacks to keep him going. JJ had supplied the seltzers and bag of chips for the two of you. He’d noted how you’d been making one can last for about two hours. He wondered if you’d been tipsy before, or drunk even.

When he looks back to you, eyes sweeping up your sand-scattered stomach, he finds you threading the seashells you’d been collecting throughout the day on string. You’d brought a little kit with you in your bag and had spent the last three hours making jewellery on and off whilst talking to JJ. You lay in a sea of designer accessories – Ray Ban sunglasses, Dior lip-gloss, Clinique sunscreen – as you craft.

“That’s coming together nice,” he comments.

You glance up to meet his eyes, smiling. “It’s for you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. Need to check if it fits, actually,” you mumble, shifting onto your knees.

JJ willingly holds out a wrist for you as you coil it around. It looks hilariously dainty on his built form. Seashells and blue and white and silver beads. Then he notices the small letters you’d interwoven into the design. JJ. His heart makes that awful, jarring tug again. JJ can’t decide he likes this effect you have on him.

“Perfect,” you say.

You tie it off and fasten it around his wrist. He shakes his arm out a little to check its fit. You’re right: it’s perfect.

The moment your eyes glance up from his arm, meeting his, JJ forgets all his manners. He takes your face in one hand and presses his lips to yours. You let out a gasp as he does, hands coming up to press at his shoulders, pushing him off.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, fingers flying up to your lips.  

His heart is loud in his ears, hammering like he’s thirteen and having his first kiss all over again. In the deafening beat of it, he dumbly replies, “kissing you?”

“Well, you can’t just kiss me,” you say, almost offended. “You have to ask first.”

“Alright…Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes are like raging storms as you stare at him. Anyone would have thought from your expression that he just asked to take you roughly in the streets. Trying to calm yourself with a drawn-out breath, you cock your head.

“Why should you?”

JJ frowns. “What?”

“Why should I let you kiss me?”

Now usually, JJ would be pissed. Annoyed and impatient, and would get up and leave and never look back. But for you, he can’t find it in him. No, it’s all offset by that same damn curiosity that got him here in the first place. You’re like an enigma. A blackhole. He wants desperately to know more, to understand, but is terrified of being sucked in completely. Terrified of what it might all mean.

So, JJ deliberates your question. “Cause you like me?”

“I do?” you ask, quirking your brows.

You must. You wouldn’t have stuck around for this long if you didn’t. Wouldn’t have handmade a bracelet. So, he nods, feeling his confidence grow like the swell of a wave.

“Yeah, you do. I think you like what I bring out of you.”

“Making a lot of assumptions here, Maybank,” you practically warn. But the anger is gone. Gives him hope that he’s on the right track. JJ tries and fails to bite back his smile.

“Maybe,” he says. “But it’s only cause I feel the same way.”

When you don’t speak, he takes it as a cue to continue. As he goes on, his heart shudders with the anxiety that vulnerability brings.

“I like the way I am around you. I like how you make me feel. I like talking to you, and I like hearing you talk. You just have this way of speaking that’s…It just makes everything feel like it’s good. Everything’ll be good.”

Something in what he’s said seems to take you aback. You blink a few times, lips parting as you sit, looking at him all the while. He hopes that if your thoughts are still set on the idea that he’s in this for nothing more than a lay, he’s just proved that wrong. He supposes with his reputation on the island amongst the youngsters, he can’t be all that surprised if that was what you had thought. But surely, after spending so many hours in your company, doing nothing asides from talking and innocently touching, you had seen past that. Didn’t you say that you wanted to get to know him, to see him for yourself?

“Do you mean that?” you quietly ask. It’s almost sad, the tone of your voice and the look on your face, like nobody’s ever said something like that to you before. JJ swallows the sick feeling that it brings.

He nods. “Yeah. I do.”

Slowly, a smile blossoms on your face like the first budding flower of spring. With a small, slight nod, you tell him, barely louder than a whisper, “you can kiss me now.”

JJ does so gladly. But he’s careful with it this time, makes it count. He sweeps one hand from your shoulder, up against your collarbones, until it cups your jaw gently. Tilting your head just-so, he leans forward and pauses just a breadth before your lips. And then, he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet and different to the usual blind-haze rush that JJ finds himself in when making out. The pacing to it makes it almost sensual. The feeling the kiss brings is alien to JJ; he can’t quite place a name to it.

One of your hands finds home on his jaw, exploring his skin, fingers looping into the hair on the back of his neck. When he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, you sigh gently against his lips.

As the two of you kiss on the beach, that new-found sensation in JJ’s chest intensifies, and then it dawns upon him - this new feeling that your kiss brings. Different from lust and libido.

His eyes fly open. Stomach plummets through the sand.

JJ Maybank is falling in love with you.

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

As the summer stretched on, JJ realised he’d spent most of June in your company, growing closer and closer. It felt natural now to have your hand intertwined with his. JJ can hardly remember a time when wasn’t talking to you, or talking about you, or thinking of you, or organising his days around meeting you. He knew what it meant, what all of it meant, and this impending feeling of something grew with every word passed and every kiss shared. It almost felt like he was watching a sand-timer. Seeing each grain slip by, counting down until the inevitable end, just like most things in his life did.

He'd introduced you to the Pogues upon everyone’s insistence, including your own. John B was still in disbelief that JJ had managed to keep you around for as long as he had. Pope, on the other hand, was practically suspicious of it. It was as if he needed the cold, hard evidence for proof that JJ wasn’t spinning yarns. Kiara had of course jumped at the opportunity to gloat about the ‘good karma’ she’d bestowed upon JJ, by encouraging him to return Ranger to you. When she’d met you, she’d be apprehensive. Distrusting of your Kook status, having known you more than the others from attending Kook Academy with you. But JJ was sure she’d warm up, bit by bit. It helped that you wanted to try new things. You wanted to try the whole Pogue lifestyle. You let JJ take you surfing and begged to try his bike out. You let John B teach you to fish and wrestled Pope on nights spent around the campfire. You’d share seltzers with Kiara and sang along whenever she played the uke. And, oh, of course you could sing. You’d had lessons, you see, as you had with practically every other extra circular on earth. Piano, violin, ballet, tap…Shit, it was like you were collecting Pokémon or something.  

In fact, it scared JJ how easy it was to pick up on the little details about you. It was like collecting stones on the beach: before you know it, your pockets are weighing you down, filled with tiny little pebbles. You were a fruity girl: cocktails and sangria and wine and seltzers – never beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker. Didn’t partake in shots apart from Cherry Bombs. You preferred sweet over salty; always took creamer and syrup in your coffee, in that order; rom coms from the nineties and noughties were your kryptonite, and you loathed fast and furious; skirts before shorts; Tiffany before Pandora; lip gloss over lip stick. God, the tingly sensation from plumping lip gloss was all too familiar to JJ now, from having it smear off your mouth to his.

After the kiss on the beach, mouths and hands had only continued to wander. It’s like JJ’s admission that this was more than just trying to score you for sex was the passcode to open you up. You weren’t prudish. In fact, when JJ met you, he was half certain that maybe you were a virgin. But no…now he found that very hard to believe.

Saying all that, it still felt bizarre to be seen out in public with you. It wasn’t a secret, had never been really, but JJ remained surprised at how willing you were to take his hand in public. To be seen with him by everyone in the County. It was like you wanted to show him off, parade him around like he was something special, like one of your many Prada purses. It almost made JJ want to question if you had ulterior motives.

“You wanna just split a portion of fries?” JJ asks, looking at The Wreck’s menu. You were there for lunch.

You hum in thought. “Maybe. I want mac and cheese though.”

“We can get that, too. I mean, you’re paying, right?”

You prod him under the table with your foot. He gives a playful laugh, grinning childishly. He’d started calling you his sugar mommy since you had to pay for gas when his card got declined. It softened the sting of embarrassment that came with being broke, especially when compared to you. I mean, even now, he sits in a thrifted t-shirt, the decal on the chest nearly faded with how much it had been worn and washed, whilst you’re in your new threads. Dior threads, for that matter.

“Hiya. You guys ready to order?” the waitress asks.

JJ glances up from the menu and shit. Shit shit shit. The minute his eyes meet hers, recognition dawns upon her. It’s weird seeing this girl – Lily, he thinks her name is – from this angle. Last time they’d seen each other, she’d been laying underneath him…

You’re thankfully blissfully unaware, eyes trained on the menu.

“JJ. Long time no see.”

With that, your head darts up. Great.

“Hey…Lily. How are you?”

At least luck is partly on his side: he got her name right. She places a hand on his waist. “Fine, thanks. Been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy,” JJ says.

“I bet. Remember a time when you were busy with other things…”

Her tone speaks volumes, as do her eyes as she surveys his body, smiling flirtatiously.

Suddenly, your hand is extending across the table, towards Lily. JJ looks to you to find a sickly, sweet smile on your face.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” you say, voice honied. She shakes your hand as you introduce yourself. “You know JJ?”

“We have a…history, of sorts,” Lily replies.

“Oh. Well, any friend of JJ’s is a friend of mine.”

Looking to JJ, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s terrifying and sexy as hell. Raising a hand, your fingers leisurely splay across the expanse of JJ’s shoulder, manicured nails digging-in only so. Not enough to cause damage but enough to make a point. Enough to mark your territory.

“Babe? Can you order for me?”

“Uh, course,” JJ says, clearing his throat.

Looking down at the menu, eyes not even fixating on any of the words, JJ reals of an order. Lily scribbles it down, takes the menus, and leaves without another word. The minute she’s out of sight, you drop the act, hand unlatching from his body. JJ raises his brows, holding back his laugh as he turns to you.

"What a bitch," you mutter. You wash away your words with a sip of your water.

“Didn’t take you as the jealous type.”

“Yeah, well, some girls need to learn when to shut their traps,” you lowly return. Sighing, you close your eyes and shake your head. “Sorry. That wasn’t very girls-girl of me.”

“Mm. If only your daddy could hear you now,” JJ adds, sighing disapprovingly.

You shoot him an unimpressed glare. JJ brings his glass to his lips, having a sip of his water.

“You sleep with her?”

JJ chokes and coughs. “Jesus. Straight shooter."

“Better not be talking about yourself there, Maybank.”

JJ laughs, putting his cup down. Looking to you, he shrugs. “Yeah. Like…three months ago, alright? It was before we met.”

“Mhm. You sleep with anyone since we met?” you wonder.

JJ can’t place your tone but something tells him that this question will make or break him. Thankfully, there isn’t even a need to lie. “No.”

“You swear?”

“Scout’s honour,” he says, lifting three fingers whilst simultaneously marking his heart with a cross.  “Shit, I don’t want you to claw my eyes out. Or any other girls, for that matter.”

You shove his shoulder gently, smile creeping back to your lips. “Shut up. Like I’d ever. The Bible frowns upon it.”

“What about ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“Ooh. Somebody went to Sunday School,” you tease.

“Yeah, just so I could gawk at you,” he smoothly returns, winking for good measure. With that, JJ knows he’s back in your good books.

When Lily brings the food over, she doesn’t try to strike up any conversation. Dare JJ say, she looks terrified to be within a foot of the table. JJ knew you had an edge but this is different. This possessiveness, this proprietorial energy that came over you…Fuck, he knows what’s the newest addition to his wank-bank.

The two of you eat, talking about what you should do tomorrow (because, of course, he’ll spend tomorrow with you) and then JJ desperately tries to give constructive feedback to your latest Pinterest board of hairstyle inspiration. He gets up to pay. It’ll probably cost half his wage but it’s worth it. I mean, this meal is pretty dismal compared to the feasts you’re used to, but you never complain. Saying that, it doesn’t go unnoticed that when it’s on your dime, you’re far more willing to get a lemonade and a dessert. When it’s JJ paying, you say you’re happy with tap water and splitting a side. It’s mildly mortifying.

Lily is stood at the counter. “Ready to pay?”

“Tell me the damage,” is JJ’s reply.

“Twenty dollars thirty,” she says, punching buttons on the register.

JJ’s stomach twists. Fuck, he hopes his card doesn’t decline. She holds out the machine for him and he swipes his card.

“How long has that been going on then?” Lily asks.

JJ follows her gaze to you. You’re sat at the table, reapplying Dior lip gloss with an Armani compact mirror. He’s half convinced that if anything bought from Target touched your skin you might implode.

“Bout a month,” he says.

“Hm. Never took her as one to venture out of Figure Eight.”

“Never took you as one to judge random people,” JJ counters, anger ticking with her unneeded commentary.

“I’m just saying. She’s a Kook, JJ.”

“Did it go through?” he asks, cutting the conversation short.

Lily sighs, looking down at the card machine. Nodding, she goes to get his receipt. But before she hands it over, she feels the need to add, “just…maybe ask yourself what she’s getting out of this? Girls like that…They’re sneaky. Just, watch your back.”

JJ takes the receipt hastily and walks off before he can’t bite his tongue any longer. As much as it pisses him off to hear someone who doesn’t even know you talk like that, there was a sincerity to Lily’s voice that speaks to JJ’s insecurities. Massages them. It certainly doesn’t help that the minute JJ arrives back at the table, you ask, “did you have enough?”

JJ hates how the rest of the day, that one interaction – that one moment – at the Wreck keeps him disconnected from you. Anytime you ask what’s wrong, it’s the same excuse: ‘I’m just tired, s’all.’ But whenever there’s a second for thought, Lily’s voice echoes around his head.

Ask yourself what she’s getting out of this.

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

“How in the hell do you not get lost in this place?” JJ asks you as you wander through your house.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I grew up here.”

It’s laughable, the difference of JJ’s house to yours. He’s never taken you to his home; kept your dates and hangouts to the Chateau or the Twinkie, or anywhere but his house. He’s half-certain that you might just dip if you saw the state that he lives in. Plus, he can’t risk his dad showing up and meeting you. He’d hate you – the same way he hated most people – and again, you’d be gone in a second. In fact, as more time passes, JJ realises more and more that he’s got an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through it without a second glance.

“You want some tea?” you ask. JJ shrugs his yes. He’s never tried it before but no time like the present, right?

You guide the two of you to the kitchen. As you pass by room after room, JJ nervously glances around. “So, uh…Your dad or mom home, or?”

“Relax, Maybank,” you grin. “They’re on a cruise. They don’t get back until Tuesday.”

“Oh, cool, cool. I mean, I ain't have been bothered if they were home.”

You bark out a laugh. Opening a kitchen cupboard, you talk as you retrieve two mugs. “Oh really? So you haven’t been avoiding my house like the plague because of my parents?”

JJ rolls his eyes. Busted. You go to heat up the water, grabbing two fruit tea bags and depositing them in each mug. JJ looks around the kitchen, searching for a certain dog. As if you can hear his thoughts, you say, “Ranger’s in the sunroom. If you call him, he’ll probably come.”

So, JJ does just that. Sure enough, Ranger trudges through the house and into the kitchen, tail wagging. He looks as if he’s just woken up from a nap. JJ grins, watching as his energy returns the moment he sets eyes on yourself and JJ, and the blonde-haired boy falls to his knees, arms outstretched. God, he missed this old fart of a dog.

“Why don’t you bring him along to the Chateau more?”

“Where would he ride? We always take your bike,” you laugh.

“Probably for the best, anyway. John B would definitely try and steal him,” JJ mumbles.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t?”

Insecurity picks at JJ like a scab. “What does that mean?”

You quirk a brow, unaware of the almost offence caused. “JJ, you would pick that dog over me in a heartbeat, if it came down to it.”

Of course. Of course you were talking about the dog, and not making some dig about his family reputation, or his sticky fingers. Shit, it’s like ever since that day at the Wreck, his insecurities had tripled in size and volume. Every time you looked at him, JJ wasn’t sure if you were passing judgement and he hated himself for it: for becoming so suspicious of you, when you’d done nothing to warrant it. But he couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex.

Once the tea is made and Ranger’s retired back in another sunny patch to sleep, the two of you head upstairs to your bedroom. JJ began to recount the story of the Grady White discovery and the Motel Room after the last hurricane’s end. He’s half certain that you don’t fully believe him.

“So, what did you find in the motel room?” you ask, pushing open your bedroom door.

“It was fucking crazy! Like a shit ton of money and this weird map. Oh, yeah, and…” JJ ditches his backpack by the foot of your bed and unzips it. Proud as a Superbowl jock, he presents the gun he stole. “This.”

Your mouth drops open. You place the two mugs of tea on your desk (on coasters, because of course) and reach out for it. JJ frowns and holds it out of your reach.

“Let me hold it.”

This reaction, out of all the reactions, was the one he expected the least. “No way.”

“Come on!”

“Nu-uh. You’ll shoot my dick off."

Rolling your eyes, you quip, “wouldn’t that be a gift for mankind? Come on!”

Sighing, he relents. Double checks the safety is on before passing the gun to you. You hold it like it’s a priceless artefact or a Louboutin heel (both as equal in value to yourself).

“It’s heavier than I thought,” you mumble, inspecting it.

Is it bad that JJ thinks you look unbelievably hot holding a gun right now? Probably. He can address that later in life when he eventually winds up in therapy.

“Yeah, these things are the shit,” JJ boasts, taking it back. He pretends to aim with it, gun pointed directly at one of your bears. At your scolding he puts it away again. “Anyway, now we got this dumb ass compass. JB thinks it’s got a clue in it, but I’m not so sure.”

JJ accepts the tea that you offer him as the two of you take perch on your bed, you at the foot and him at the head. You sit cross legged, nodding along to his tale, interested. JJ’s not entirely sure why he’s telling you this, especially when he was so adamant that the Pogues keep it on the down low, but something in him tells him that it’s okay for you to know. Useful, even, though he has no idea how. When he wraps up the story, he takes in your room. It’s just as he pictured it to be. Immaculately clean, psychopath level organised, decorated with brand after brand, China-white and pastel blue detailing every turn of the head. Looking back to you, he sniggers.

“You look like a witch right now.”

You take in the way you’re sitting and laugh, making a point to cradle your mug of tea between two hands. God, you’re adorable. The years of ballet have paid off: your back is straight as an arrow. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as you sip your tea. Outside, you can hear the sounds of nature pass by. There’s something understated and special about spending time with someone without feeling the need to fill the gaps. Just…existing. As JJ finishes his tea, you nod to his empty mug.

“Want me to read your tea leaves?” you ask.

JJ eyes you up, entertained. “No way you know how to do that.”

“Course I do. Here.”

You put your mug down on the windowsill and hold out a hand out for his. He passes you the empty mug and leans back against the cushioned headboard. Hell, if he had a bed like this, he’d never leave. You hum in deep contemplative thought as you look into the mug. Eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing, you study the scraps of tea leaves intently. JJ tries to stifle his laughs. It’s clearly a ploy. He can see right through the act.

“Ah, well…These are very good leaves,” you suddenly announce.

JJ plays along. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Yeah, yeah, I see a great fortune in your future,” you tell him. A glance up to his face, stupid grin on your lips, and then back to the mug. “Mhm. Yep, I see a…A boat.”

“Oh yeah? A Grady White by any chance?” JJ jests.

“Oh, no. This thing…It’s like the titanic. Big ship.”

“You have a way with words, princess.”

“And! A rainforest! And stones!”

“Alright, this tea’s gone to your head,” JJ laughs, reaching over for his mug.

You giggle as he takes it back, ditching it half-arsed on the bedside table so he can drag you to him by your forearms. Half tumbling forward, your hands ungainly catch yourself on his sturdy frame. You’re still laughing as he kisses you. JJ smiles against your mouth.

“I’m telling you,” you manage out through kisses and giggles. “You’re gonna be very fortunate in your future.”

“Mm, I’m fortunate now,” JJ replies, chasing your lips.

He uses a hand to hoist you further into his lap. You finally find purchase, a hand sliding along his neck, tantalisingly slow and smooth. As JJ’s lips creep along your jaw and inch down your neck, you lean your head, giving him more and more canvas to work with.

“I’m very lucky, you know,” you say, sounding short of breath.

JJ just hums. He continues his tapestry of love bites and kisses as you ramble on. He loves how soft it is with you; how there’s time for pause, for thought, for laughter. It’s the polar opposite to what he knows. Frenzied hands and sex in a timeframe. The patience of sex with you isn’t without heat, though. It isn’t like a married couple who can hardly remember what they liked about one another, chasing a high before drifting off to sleep. No, it’s like how people take time to pray. Like how musicians fawn over their music for hours, bit by bit, until perfection. So, JJ revels in your half-meaningful speech, slurred like you’re drunk despite being stone-cold sober, as he gently eases your cardigan off your shoulders.

“Every dance team I’ve been on, we’ve won…”

As JJ’s lips descend to your chest, you sigh. Fingers tightening just-so in his hair, spurring him on. One of his hands stays placed on your hip, a thumb rubbing circles on your exposed waist.

“Probably just ‘cause you’re a good dancer,” JJ mumbles against your skin.

“Not just that, though,” you muse. “I’m a good luck charm, I’m telling you. Nothing bad ever happens to the people around me. I’m lucky.”

Whatever you say, JJ thinks as he unhooks your bra. You help guide it off, sitting back against JJ’s thighs and lifting a perfectly manicured hand to his jaw. Your skin is soft like Mother of Pearl. Not a single cut or nick. Guiding his face up until his gaze meets yours, you lean down and press your lips to his. There’s no more laughter and no more silly stories. There’s no room in JJ’s brain to conjure anything other than thoughts of you. Your hair and your skin and your perfume and your nails and you. God, he wants to consume you. Breathe you in like vapour, soak you up like sunlight, feel you like the weather, all over him.

Nobody’s prettier than you.

Nobody prettier from this view, nestled between your thighs, almost suffocating as he swallows you up. More and more – insatiable. The distinct taste of you sits heavy on his tongue. It spurs him on like cocaine, energy unrelenting as he goes down on you. The sounds you make, the way you grab at him, grasp at the sheets, writhe and wriggle like it’s too much, like you can’t take it. But you can. Have before. Will again.

Your body bends to JJ’s will like water. You’re so trusting of him; have been ever since you met him. Let him take you how he wants, faithful in the pleasure he’ll give you. Usually JJ didn’t care much if girls thought him selfish in bed, but you? No, he needed you to give the mark of approval. He needed your praise, your validation, like his sex wouldn’t have meaning if you didn’t think it worthwhile. The way you fit around him; JJ swears to God it’s like you were made for him. He has you on your front, fucking you into the mountain of throw pillows that make up the head of your bed. He keeps your hips and ass angled upwards, holding you steady as he ruts into you over and over again. You’re a drooling, moaning mess underneath him. One of your hands is clenching and releasing the sheets much like your walls are to him. Having you like this – Christ, it makes JJ feel like a young God.

When you fall apart, it pushes JJ over the edge too, almost like a suicide pact. He’s not sure heroin could touch ecstasy quite like it. Drifting away on dopamine, JJ pulls out of you and flops onto his back, chest heaving. You shuffle atop of your sheets, curling up as you let the afterglow take over. JJ knows he should dote on you but he’s so tired and spent. After tying off and tossing the condom out in your bedroom trash, and tugging on his boxers, JJ lays back down on the bed beside you, flat on his back. One of your hands rests on his chest – damp with sweat. Just for a minute, JJ thinks. I’ll just close my eyes for one minute.

JJ tunes into the sensation of you stroking the bare skin of his back. It rouses him from sleep. Somehow, in his tiredness, he’d rolled over onto his front. Your sheets smell of fabric conditioner and safety. Goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets; a memory foam mattress that mimics what JJ might imagine falling asleep on a marshmallow to feel like.

“JJ?” You continue to run the side of your hand up and down his skin. "Are you awake?"

"No," he mumbles into the sheets.

“I want us to make this official.”

JJ groans sleepily. “Wha’dya mean?”

“I mean, I want us to put a label on this thing. I want to be your girlfriend, and I want you to be my boyfriend.”

It’s like the mattress has become a gaping wormhole and it’s sucking him in. That very thing that he was drawn to, entranced with, that very thing that he was learning and dreading to be true, every little insecurity and anxiety that had built and built since the second date…It’s all arriving at once, hitting him hard and fast like a meteor strike. 

JJ turns his head, looking up at you. You’re watching him patient, a giddy-type smile on your face, slightly disquieted with nerves.

“Well…How do you know that?”

Brows furrowing, your smile doesn’t move. Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know…I just know. I…I know it because I feel it.”

Those words do nothing to ease the panic that’s building up JJ’s body. He shuffles until he’s sat upright, staring you down like you’re something dangerous. For some reason, your innocent request feels like a trap to him. A con. A joke that he’ll be the unwilling punchline of if he agrees. And he realises what that impending feeling was, all this time. It was him waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Lucy’s point to come true and for the curtains to be pulled. To find out what the hell you wanted with him.

“You can’t just say things like that. That’s a really messed up thing to say to someone,” JJ mutters, moving away from you.

You’re frowning now, befuddled. “Why is it? It’s true, and it’s how I feel. I want to make us official. I want us to be together.”

“Well, you’re saying that now but what about if we do get together, and I meet your parents and your friends, and you realise how different we are but you feel like you’re stuck with me, and then all of it was for nothing.”

Face the picture of perplexed, your mouth contorts into something ugly. “Where is all of this coming from? What did you think we were doing? I mean, we’ve been fine this past month and I know that there’s something between us.”

“How do you?”

“Because I’m not stupid, JJ,” you sharply reply.

Good, JJ thinks. You’re getting angry. You’ll lose your temper and you’ll let something slip that you weren’t supposed to, and he can bolt without a muddied conscience. He moves away from the bed and starts grabbing his strewn-about clothes in a frenzy to bolt. 

“If there’s something between us, why haven’t I met any of your friends yet?”

You stare at him. He takes your hesitation as confirmation to his doubts. Pointing accusingly at you, he snarls, “because you’re embarrassed of me. You’re embarrassed to be seen with a Pogue-nobody from the Cut, in front of your Kook friends.”

“What is your obsession with me being a Kook!?” you exclaim. “Have you ever noticed how I never bring it up? How it’s always you, JJ, talking about it.”

“Well, I feel like I ought'a!”

“Why!?” you vociferate. 

“Because what the hell do you want with me anyway!? You’re going to mess around with me for the summer, and get your kicks, and rebel against dear-old daddy, and then ditch me for some Kook jackass, who you’ll marry and he’ll take you on ski trips and summer’s in the Hamptons, and send your snotty children to expensive summer camps, and then you’ll laugh with all your trust-fund friends about how you went slumming once too.”

With that narrative, you laugh in disbelief, mystified. “What kind of fucking story are you spinning?”

“One that’s based on nothing but the facts,” JJ shouts. He’s shaking and angry, but it’s just his panic in disguise. He saw a glimpse of happiness with you and instinctively wanted to smash it up, like a psychopath child and a harmless butterfly.  “I mean, you said it yourself - you wanted to do what you’re not supposed to do, for a change. Have a taste of rebellion and then go back to your rich-ass bubble wrap.”

JJ’s seen you possessive before. He’s seen you jealous, and scared, and snippy. But he’s never seen you angry. It’s horrifying. 

“Did it ever occur to you that all of that has nothing to do with you? Has nothing to do with you being a Pogue, or me being a Kook?” you yell. Hands flying up to your chest, holding on like your heart might fall out of your skeleton, your voice turns thick. “I was miserable JJ! I was never allowed to do anything; never allowed to go anywhere. I did what my parents told me to do. I went to bed by nine every night. I was wasting my time with all these fucking after-school extra-circulars which I don’t even care about! I hate ballet! I hate piano! Christ, I hate all of it! And my friends are fake as anything. They say one thing to my face, and come to my house for pool parties, and then bitch about me behind my back! They’re assholes, JJ! So, yeah, I didn’t want to waste my time introducing you to them because I don’t actually like them!”

His lips start to quiver uncomfortably as he watches you unravel. It’s like JJ was pulling and pulling on a spring, and now he has to stand and watch it snap.

Make-up free, hair still tousled from earlier, oversized t-shirt half hanging off your frame: there’s no Kook defining thing about you here. It’s just you - just as it always had been. 

JJ’s heart cracks as a tear falls down your cheek. With a shaky breath, in a quiet, defeated voice, you tell him, “I wanted to go out with you because I wanted to live. Because most of the time, I feel so useless and so alone that I wonder if I’m even here at all.” 

And hearing you say that finally allows the curtain to fall. Only, it revealed to JJ something entirely different to what he expected. To what he’d told himself time and time again. Seeing you cry on your bed because of him…JJ’s made some real big mistakes in his life, but this one surpasses them all. 

“So don’t put your shit on me because you’re the one that’s afraid,” you say, stealing yourself as you aggressively wipe your eyes. JJ’s narrow. It’s like poking a searing hot skewer into his most tender of wounds. 

“Afraid? What do I have to be afraid of?”

“You’re afraid of me! You’re afraid that I won’t love you back! You’re afraid of what all the shallow people in the County will think! You know what, JJ? I’m afraid too! But fuck it - I want to give a try!”

It feels as exposing as having you peel back his skin. JJ pulls on his t-shirt and shakes his head, turning for the bedroom door, mumbling something about ‘I’m not doing this right now.’ 

You dart from the bed and grab at his arm, stopping him. “No. No, you’re not leaving,” you blubber. 

JJ yanks out of your grip, turning around, lashing out like a stray animal approached all too quick. “What do you wanna know!” He yells. You recoil. “What? That I don’t have a great life? That I’m jealous of how you live compared to me! That I don’t want you to see how I really live because I’m ashamed shitless of it!”

You’re crying, hard, but JJ can’t find it in himself to stop. Why won’t he stop? The butterfly is dead, wings torn from the body, antenas shattered from the beating: but it’s like he doesn’t even want dust to remain. 

“That my dad beats the shit out of me, so I sleep at John B’s house!? That I’ll probably end up in a prison cell or an early grave!? You ain't wanna hear that shit! Don’t tell me you want to hear that shit!”

“I do want to hear that stuff! I do want to hear it!” you argue through your sobs. You lift your hands as if you might try and cup his face. “I just want to help you.”

He retracts from your almost-there hold. “Help me! What the fuck! What, do I got a fucking sign on my back that says Save Me?”

“No!”

“Do I look like I need that!?”

Reaching for him again, tears streaming, you wail, “no! God, I just want to be with you because I love you!” 

JJ grabs at your wrists, driving you away from him, driving you towards the door until your back presses against it, all the while yelling at you. Don’t bullshit me! Don’t fucking bullshit me! 

JJ’s never been lucky to have good things. He waits for his friends to get up and leave. Knows his dad will too, one day, just like his ma. He’ll end up alone, drunk, high, and not long after, dead. You? You’re just a glitch in his programming. A girl who saw a project - yeah, that’s it. A girl who saw a project, a thing to fix, and the moment you have will be the moment that you get bored, and leave him broken hearted and alone. JJ knows more than anyone: you’ve got to leave before you get left. 

But as you’re standing with your back against the wall, you don’t cower from him. Don’t wait for him to land a hit on you. Always so trusting. And seeing you, crying, sobbing, begging for him to listen to you, repeating that you love him over and over…JJ knows you’re not the malicious enemy he’s created in his mind. He knows you’re not. 

“I want you to tell me that you don’t love me." A shuddering breath, trying to calm your quivering voice. “Because, if you do, I won’t call you anymore. And I won’t be in your life…”

And JJ’s never been good at admitting when he’s wrong. Maybe he learnt it from his dad. Maybe it’s a defensive mechanism. Maybe it’s dumb, childish youth that he never outgrew. So, as you sob, waiting for him to say something - to say you love him - JJ feels his face turn to stone. Cold, emotionless stone.

“I don’t love you.”

He grabs the rest of his shit in one quick sweep and he leaves your bedroom before he has to see the long-lasting damage he once again inflicted on someone. Slams the door. Rushes down the stairs. Passes the barking Ranger, alarmed by all the yelling, and dresses as he stumbles to the front door. In the air of the driveway, he takes a gasping breath, cringing with melancholic agony. Panic rises in his chest like a fist is clenching around his heart, over and over. He raises a hand, rubbing at the uncomfortable pain. JJ knows this feeling well. Knows it from childhood and from adolescence. Knows it almost as much as he knows breathing. 

Heartbreak.  

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

JJ distracted himself with drinking, smoking and treasure hunting. Indulged at night and diverted throughout the day to avoid any thoughts of you. He was lucky, in a way, that his friends were there to keep him busy. They only asked once why he wasn’t seeing you anymore, wondering why you were never around, and learnt their lesson never to ask again. He tried to hide behind the lie that he’d so easily told himself: that you were a spoilt-bitch Kook who would have ditched him soon anyway. But he remembers your voice and your face clear as day, begging for him to tell you that he loved you. He can picture all too easily your reaction the minute he stepped away from you, after telling the worst lie of his life. 

Throwing himself into work was a good distraction. It’s hard to think about you when he’s thinking about how heavy the motor is that he’s lugging, or how close he’s cutting it on time to deliver groceries with Pope. His hurt made him wreckless, like he deserved whatever bad thing might come. You were good karma for returning Ranger and his mistreatment was bound to be paid back to him by the universe. Maybe that was why he’d been so eager to exact revenge on Topper and Rafe. Their attack on Pope certainly made it easier for JJ to handle his hurt when he was reminded of how awful most Kooks are. It was almost possible to group you in with them, to help mitigate the sting of guilt that came whenever your name crossed his mind. Almost. 

But, like always, the consequences of his actions were bound to catch up to him. So, as JJ sits beside Pope and Kiara watching the outdoor movie play under the watchful gaze of Topper, Rafe and Kelce, he knows bad things are coming.

“JJ,” Pope says, nudging his leg. 

“What?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

JJ’s leg is quivering with building adrenaline. “Hold it.”

“I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda.”

“It’s too exposed, they’ll totally see us,” JJ argues. 

“I gotta go,” Pope insists. 

JJ purses his lips and glances back over his shoulder the same time Pope turns around. Their eyes land on the three pissed off Kooks, sat like mob bosses, biding their time. They might as well be smoking a pipe and stroking their one-eyed cat like some '50s Bond villain. 

“They’re blocking the bathrooms,” Pope observes. 

Yeah, no shit. JJ looks around, noticing the woodland behind the giant projection screen. “Alright, come here. I know where.” 

The two of them get to their feet, hunching over as they go to move. When Kiara asks where they’re going, JJ shrugs and tells her, ‘we gotta ring it out.’ With that, they venture to the screen and relieve themselves just behind it, out of view, into the shrubs. As they piss, Pope and JJ banter. JJ finishes first, zipping up his fly and turning around to keep watch. 

“You bring the peacemaker?” Pope asks, referring to JJ’s beloved gun. 

His stomach drops. “Oh, shit, I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?”

“Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Dude, you had one job. That’s all I asked you to do, man,” Pope complains as he finishes up.  

“I know, let’s go,” JJ quickly replies. The moment he turns, JJ comes face to face with Rafe. Fuck. 

“What’s up Pogues?”

“What’s up, Rafe?” JJ casually replies, walking backwards with Pope as Rafe approaches steadfast. He won’t let on that he’s scared - learnt that from his dad. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

As Pope tries to make a run for it, Topper emerges, Kelce in tow. “Hey that was some nice work you did on my boat!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pope fumbles.

JJ assesses the situation. Three on two. Pope isn’t the strongest fighter. No gun. Yeah, the odds are not stacked in their favour. 

“Not so burly without a gun now, are you?” Rafe taunts. 

JJ’s jaw ticks, his anger rising with his annoyance. The adrenaline is pumping and working its usual magic. Bring it on, pussy. I can take a few licks - it’s my birth-right. 

“Take one more step and I’ll rip that prepubescent face off,” JJ warns through clenched teeth. He watches as Topper approaches Pope leisurely. 

“Hey Pope, do you feel good about yourself, stealing shit? Is your mom proud of you? Is your dad proud of you?”

Pope slams his head into Topper’s upper chest and pride swills through JJ. “Attaboy! Attaboy!” He grabs his friend’s shoulder, lifting his clenched fist. “Now with your fist, see?”

With that, Rafe claims him. They begin to get in a dust-up. JJ takes the first few punches; each one that lands on his cheek brings searing hot pain that quickly vanishes with shock. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. He taps into the pit inside of him, deep and angry and bitter. His self-hatred, for all the shit he put you through, for all the shit his dad and mom pegged on him…Throws his own punches, then. Wrestles too. Blood begins to draw. Lips crack open. Eyebrows split. But then it’s two on one: Kelce grabbing at him, holding him steady so Rafe can just lay into him. JJ’s winded as Rafe’s fist meets his stomach. He collapses in Kelce’s hold as Rafe right hooks him. And every hit, JJ takes like it’s his earnt punishment. 

“Come on, Rafe,” JJ provokes through the agonising pain. “That all you got?”

“Let go of him Topper! You fascist asshole!” 

Kiara. She helps Pope first, hitting Topper with JJ’s backpack. At least, that’s what JJ sees through the double vision. The backpack. The gun. Topper grabs it off her and tosses it, and then JJ’s too busy getting the shit beaten out of him to see what follows. It’s all just noise. Blends almost cinematically with the sound of the old-timey movie playing. At some point, it even sounds like there’s a dog barking. Blood fills his mouth like he’s at some sadistic dentist surgery. Pain numbs his nerve endings and softens his muscles. Air becomes a rarity as he’s held in a headlock, half-strangled. 

“Let go of them right now!”

Everyone goes still. JJ only notices because he finally has a second to catch his breath, gasping as the arm around his throat loosens just slightly. He opens his eyes, desperate to get his vision steady, and…no fucking way. 

There you stand like some designer vigilante heroine. Hair perfect, as always, with not a strand out of place; jewellery to the nines; make-up enhancing your gorgeous features. In your hand, clasped between perfectly manicured nails, is JJ’s gun. It’s pointed directly at Rafe’s forehead. 

Rafe laughs. “What? That supposed to scare me or something?”

You grit your teeth, harden your stare, and remain stoic and strong in your stance. Rafe just quirks a brow, a sick smile twisting upwards. 

“Oh, what, you’re gonna be the hero here? Why don’t you just run back to your daddy and mind your own fucking business?”

“Let. Them. Go.”

JJ realises then that Ranger is standing by your side. He’s growling, looking feral like Cujo, salivating at the mouth, death-glare set on Kelce who still holds JJ in a headlock. Your command and Kelce might lose a leg. 

“What’s it to you?” Topper snaps. 

“They’re my friends.”

Okay, no, JJ must have fucking blacked out or something. In the brain damage caused by Rafe, he’s seeing things. You’re his own guardian angel that his dying brain has conjured - that is the only explanation. 

All of the Kooks laugh. “Your friends?”

“I won’t ask you again,” you darkly warn, not a spit of humour in your voice. 

Rafe whistles lowly. He mockingly raises his hands to his head in surrender. Shares a laugh with Topper and Kelce. It vanishes the minute you unclip the safety. 

“You wouldn’t,” Rafe tells you. 

Slowly, maleficently, the faintest shadow of a smirk forms on your lip-glossed mouth. “You really want to test that theory?”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how JJ Maybank ended up in the most insane predicament of his life. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next: not JJ, and probably not even you. As JJ waits, his eyes dart down to Ranger. The very thing that started all of this. 

Rafe sniffs. He juts his head at Kelce. When Kelce finally lets JJ go, Topper does the same with Pope. Kiara helps Pope up. JJ leans over, hands on his knees, coughing and gasping in air. 

“You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess,” Rafe warns you as he saunters away with his posse. If JJ wasn’t on the brink of passing out, he’d lay him out for even looking at you.

The minute the three Kooks round the screen, acting as if nothing even happened, you drop the gun on the backpack and race over to JJ. It’s hard not to flinch after his moments-before assault when you clutch his shoulders. He realises that you’re shaking. Hears in the quiver of your voice how shit-scared you are. 

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

No and no. 

“Do you need to sit down? What should I–”

No, definitely don’t sit down. 

“Come on - we need to go,” Kiara tells you. She has Pope’s weight on her.

You seem to copy, taking her guidance from her years of experience with hanging with the guys, and guide JJ away from the scene of the crime. You grab the backpack as you go, the gun shoved inside (safety now on). Ranger licks anxiously at JJ’s hand, whining in worry. 

“I’m alright, boy,” JJ lies to the dog in a slur.

swirling, becoming blacker and blacker with every step. His body is screaming for rest and reprieve. He vaguely overhears you tell Kie where you’re parked. Lets you half-drag him to your ride. The minute JJ’s helped into the backseat, safe in the smell of you, he blacks out. 

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

The first thing JJ notices when he wakes up is how much his head hurts. There’s a headache above his brows, similar to that which you get when hungover. It feels like his brain was a ping pong ball, rattled around in there for hours on end. Sniffing, he groans as he tries to sit up. There’s a hand pushing him back down to the bed gently. 

“Just lie still, for now,” you say softly. “No sudden movements, okay?” 

JJ groans again, eyes pressed shut. At the sensation of a straw pressing against his lips, he drinks. 

“Open your mouth,” you say after he swallows. JJ does as he’s told, in too much pain to argue. You give him a few pills - presumably painkillers - and help him chase them with water. “I’ll be right back.”

JJ must fall back asleep. When he comes to for the second time, the pain in his head is significantly lessened, as are all the general aches and pains of his body. He dreads the idea of looking in a mirror: he’s probably black and blue. Saying that, it’s not like it’s an unfamiliar state to him. Opening his eyes, he immediately recognises your bedroom. As if on cue, you walk through the door, a mug of what must be steaming hot tea in hand. When your eyes meet his, a relieved smile comes to your face. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he rasps. 

Making your way over, tea deposited on the bedside table, you take the seat next to him. Shit, no wonder he was sleeping so well. Your bed is like sponge cake. 

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit,” JJ grunts. You stifle a laugh. Shifting to sit up, his brows furrow as last night comes back to him, piece by piece. “Did I…Was I hallucinating, or did you save our ass?”

“Mmm, I might have maybe just saved your ass,” you innocently reply. 

Shaking his head, JJ rubs tiredly at his face. 

“I’m not even going to ask what Rafe and his gang of fairies were angry about.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” JJ cringes. 

He finally braves holding your gaze. There’s a distance there - a reluctance to be fully present - and JJ knows it’s because of him. 

“That was really ballsy, what you did,” he tells you. 

“It's nothing,” you quietly reply. 

“You’re probably going to lose your Kook card now.”

“Never liked it that much in the first place,” you say with a half-smile. 

JJ silently laughs, shaking his head, mesmerised. He was so wrong about you. About all of it. “I was, uh...kind of a dick to you.”

“Yeah…”

“And…you were right,” he mumbles. 

Brows lifting slightly, a small, amused smile teases your lips. “What was that sorry?”

“You were right,” he repeats, no louder. 

Leaning in, a finger to your ear, you say, “one more time, I didn't quite catch it.”

“Fuck off,” JJ groans, shoving you away with hardly any force.

You snort out a laugh. The moment the humour passes, you look back to him. He feels as though he can hear your thoughts. Your anger and annoyance and insecurity and pain. He hears it all in the emotion swimming through your eyes. So, he nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, JJ,” you whisper. 

One of his hairs falls into his face. Before he can react, you’re leaning forward, brushing it out the way. JJ captures your wrist quickly, keeping you near, almost panicked that if you move even a millimetre away, he’ll lose you forever. In that same frenzy, desperate to have you close, he forces out the three words he’s never let himself say to anyone. Ever. 

“I love you.”

Face an exact replica of the one you made that day on the beach, you blink at him. Once, then twice. JJ nods again. 

“I just…I can’t…It doesn’t…”

“I know,” you say, forehead bumping against his own as you lean down. Then, in a whisper, you add, “I know. It’s okay.”

JJ sniffs, suddenly overcome with emotion, and nods against you. As his eyes press shut, you kiss him. It’s slightly salty with tears but no less welcome. He winces as your hand cups his jaw. Kisses you through your mumbled apology against his lips.

And as the two of you kiss, JJ realises that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was you. Wonderfully, princess-perfect, Kook-turned-Pogue you. 

want more? read the sequel to risk here!

[lewisvinga]

love talk | zhou guanyu x fem! reader

summary; in which during traveling for formula one, he meets a girl in the streets of mexico. despite not knowing a lick of spanish and her not knowing any mandarin, they find themselves growing closer.

warnings; reader is implied to be mexicana obviamente , but none

taglist; @namgification

word count; 760

notes; requested! omg but i used to be a kpop fan like 2 years ago and wayv were my fave unit of nct😭😭😭 but since they’re the chinese unit i decided to write about zhou🤭 this could’ve taken a more 18+ route bc of the meaning of the song but i don’t write anything like that😭

masterlist !

Y/n furrowed up her eyebrows as she noticed the plaza busier than usual. She huffs as she tries to find a place to sit so she can eat her food peacefully. Her hands clutch onto the sides of the plate as she walks around.

She lets out an excited gasp when she sees an empty seat across from a man. She mentally prayed and hoped that the man wasn’t waiting for a girlfriend to sit down.

“Disculpe, puedo sentarme aquí?” [excuse me, can i sit here?] Y/n questions with a hopeful smile to the man as she points to the empty seat. He looks up with a confused face, clearly not understanding a single word she said. Her eyes widened. She could tell that he definitely wasn’t Mexican.

“Uh-“ Her brain seemed to cut like a circuit.

But he gives her a soft smile as he points at the seat across from him. “Sit. Uh, you can sit here.” He says with a slight nod. She wasn’t fluent in English but knew an okay amount due to her cousins who lived in America. So thankfully, she understood him.

“Tha-Thank you.”

To avoid such awkwardness, Y/n mustered up all her confidence and decent English skills to at least make conversation. “I’m Y/n.” She says with a nervous smile, holding her hand out. “Where are you from?”

“Guanyu, but everyone calls me Zhou since it’s my last name.” He replies with a smile. “I’m from China. I’m guessing you’re from here? Mexico?

Y/n tilts her head to the side out of curiosity. “Yes!” She exclaims with a nose, “But why are you in Mexico?” He thought her curious look made her look adorable and had to hold back a laugh.

“I-uh- race cars.”

Her eyebrows furrowed up more. “Race cars? Like Checo Pérez?”

Guanyu laughs at the mention of the only Mexican driver on the grid. “Yeah, like him basically.” He says, noticing how her eyes immediately lit up.

She leans in closer, feeling her previous nervousness go away despite having to speak in a language she didn’t know. At least she could understand el hombre guapo the handsome man. “How does- How does it work?”

Despite using the translator app on his phone, he managed to explain to her how Formula One works. Soon after, they started talking about anything and everything- of course with the help of the translator app.

It was getting dark, near midnight, and instead of still being at the table talking, they were walking around Mexico City as she showed him around her hometown. Since it was getting dark and he needed to get up early the next morning, he hesitantly told her he had to go.

Both of them felt sad by the fact he had to leave already. Y/n felt some type of connection with him even if she had to converse with him through a translator app half of the time. Guanyu wanted to spend the whole week with her if he could, he couldn’t get enough of her smile and her laugh as she messed up a sentence in English.

Luckily, his hotel was nearby so they walked together, their hands brushing against each other. The Alfa Romeo driver got a sudden burst of confidence and grabbed her hand in the middle of talking. She glances at him with a wider smile as she looks away. He continued talking about what his home was like until they made it to the front of the hotel.

They stood in front of each other for a moment, staring at each other with happy smiles. “Actually, y/n,” he spoke up as he let out a chuckle, “Your number, could I have it?”

“Finally you asked.” Y/n happily replied as he handed her his phone. After typing in her phone number, she hands him back the phone. “Call me.” She smiles before placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Adios, Zhou!”

Guanyu stood there in shock as she began to walk away. “Bye, Y/n!” He quickly says, realizing that she had said bye. He lets out a laugh in disbelief as he glances down at her number on his phone. He had gone out to explore Mexico before the start of the race weekend to sightsee the city, but he never expected to find someone special. Even with the slight language barrier, he knew that she was going to be something more to him. After all, even if they used a translator to communicate, love talked just enough for the both of them.

[trash-king18]

miggy hc’s

sorry for the delay on pt. 9 my loves. i just moved and things are a little hectic but here’s some head cannons i had written for mig (sfw and nsfw) pt. 9 should be up tmr or wednesday<3

————

i feel like he’d absolutely convince you to get your nails done and pay for it too just so you could play with his hair and rub his back with them because he’s literally a sucker for it. like he’d be embarrassed about it at first and deny it but he’d be purring at your touch.. like literally though bc he’s half spider 

hear me out: on the lowest of keys miguel is kinda autism coded. LISTEN listen listen… the agitation, the sensory issues from heightened senses, the rigidity, the strong sense of justice, the need for seeking patterns to make sense of things that have happened, a fucking genius, (has a literal fucking rage meltdown in the movie) and would absolutely end up with an adhd golden retriever energy gf (partner if ur queer bc duh) 

would definitely think bigotry in general is “unintelligent and barbaric” homophobia especially and would defend any and all spider kids from bigots (let’s face it they’re all at least bi) even though he’s a grump he’d protect them. 

his love language is acts of service and physical touch

he likes to stay busy, even though you coax him into relaxing more, physically maybe not so much since hes always fighting bad guys…(or fucking you) but mentally. he’s reading, or watching documentaries, playing chess (he definitely programmed an ai himself that would be near impossible to beat just for the challenge and like analyzed the worlds best players. and just because i think it’s cute, you definitely introduced him to like a childish animated puzzle game on your phone that he insisted was stupid but then you wake up to find he stole your phone to play it at night. definitely gets frustrated with it and you make fun of him “it’s harder than it looks ok” 

when miguel started acting softer towards you lyla would tease him about it every chance and try to embarrass him in front of you 

if you are latina and(or) have curly hair like me i can see him getting all pouty when you straighten it. he’d tell you, you look gorgeous of course “you always do” but i feel as a latino he would just think your natural hair is absolutely gorgeous (curly or coily) 

when he comes out with you, if he does, he just holds stuff and watches over you. he will never initiate pda but he certainly doesn’t mind if you cling to him in front of all the people watching. unless you’re at work “reputations” and all that 

he’s not a dancer(but he’s extremely good at it)… unless maybe you’re walking down a shadowed street where there aren’t many people and there’s latin music he might be tempted to pull you into him to dance a little salsa or just feel your hips move when no one’s looking 

dates are more quiet, private, and thoughtful settings. 

is 100 percent not a morning person. blackout curtains and no alarms and while he will stay up all night working or wake up at the ass crack of dawn for missions he will bitch and moan about everything when you try to wake him up when he doesn’t have work and he is a pouting sulking grump when you do 

food. this man is always fucking hungry. but he cooks his own food or doesn’t eat at all and is as much a control freak in the kitchen as he is at work. and it takes you forever to convince him to let you cook, even though you’re perfectly good at it and better at certain things. definitely loves making you taste things as he cooks even when he’s made it before 

every time you pass a “mexican” place unless it’s actually authentic he’ll mutter under his voice cursing them saying they’re ruining his culture (they are). just imagine him driving/swinging past a california tortilla and rolling his eyes and scoffing 

miguel’s nightmares wake him up in a cold sweat more often then he’d care to admit. and as a light sleeper you are almost always already up stroking his face and hair and on the rare occasion you aren’t he’ll just pull you on top of him to feel and watch you instinctively cuddle into him. 

when you’re home you are glued to his side. he’s the: keep you on the kitchen counter while he cooks, shower together, literally tangle your bodies together in bed or on the couch, type of man. but his time away on missions which is frequent, gave you some breathing room. because as much as he’d presumably be the distant one he’s got domestic instincts like no other. he gets enough action at work that he’s definitely a homebody once you coax him into overworking himself less.

————

nsfw

2 word’s: cock. warming. any chance he gets to get himself inside you he takes, or he makes them. he is obsessed with the idea of making a permanent imprint of himself in your pussy and he 100 percent loves belly bulge. cuddling or working from home? you’re on his lap preferably in one of his shirts with his dick stuffed inside you. sleeping? probably ended up pulling your leg over his and (consensually!) slipping himself into your hole. one the rare occasion you sleep later than he does he’ll wake you up by lazily rutting into you. 

2 more words: panty ruin-er. and that’s all 

i don’t know exactly how to explain this one.. but he’s got a pretty dick. you can tell his hygiene is very good and he’s particular about everything and that goes for down there too.. but it’s just pretty. (idk if y’all know what i mean but sometimes you just see one and it just- idek the girls that get it, get it) 

he’s got an oral fixation and don’t tell me he doesn’t. mans a munch but he’s also perfectly satisfied to kiss, nip, lick, and suck at any other part of you. 

imo, he’s really not subby or even on the bottom he likes to be the one in control even the times where all he’s really doing is giving you everything you ask for. but dont assume that means he doesn’t absolutely love watching you ride him or give him head/hj. and when hes cranky he will sheepishly ask you for it almost like he’s embarrassed about being needy (he 100 percent is and you make fun of him for it all the time… after you fuck his soul out of course) 

he HATES being teased. give it but can’t take it. but the reason he doesn’t is because he will whimper a little and he would never hear the end of it. 

more than once he’s stopped you sucking his dick to pull you up purely to cum in you instead of your mouth (sorry bro man has a breeding kink i don’t know what to tell you) “wouldn’t want to waste that would we” 

the only thing that really truly makes him blush is when you grab/slap/poke his ass and you do it just for that reason and he will chase you around the house yelling at you(mostly playfully) after 

if you grind on him he’s usually pretty quick to try and just fuck you instead. because when you do you’ll start kissing his jaw and his neck just rubbing yourself on his bulge or his thigh and suddenly the thought and sight of you getting off just from that is enough to push back any thoughts of embarrassment at the sounds that leave his throat and he doesn’t like loosing control but he can’t help it with you 

i feel like if he found you touching yourself he would immediately worry it was because he wasn’t taking care of you well enough and ask what you wanted but you’d just laugh and tell him it was simply because you got wound up and impatient thinking about him. 

he can never finger you if he’s already wound up because.. claws 

as gentle and caring as he can be he still loves to overstimulate you. the aftercare is amazing but he will fuck as many orgasms out of you as he wants. sometimes he just can’t think straight until he gets to. 

————

taglist:

@urmotherswhor3 @marcswife21 @l3laze @kirke-is-my-name @rexxesgirl @simp4miguell @urmomisafinewoman @dammittjanet

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Am I the asshole for going to a mexican market while not knowing any spanish?

So I (20ftm) live right near a Mexican and Salvadoran market and restaurant, which I go to frequently. The nearest chain grocery store is a mile away and since I hate driving I'd much rather walk across the street to the market for my stables like milk, juice and spices. Plus the food is fucking amazing (if you've never had a pupusa you are depriving yourself of one of life's many joys)

I go there all the time and have kind of established myself as a regular, enough to recognize everyone and be recognized by most everyone, and while I don't make a lot of small talk (I'm very socially awkward) I have build a bit of rapport with a woman around my age who goes to night school and a middle aged man who is always asking me about what I'm making and sometimes gives me candy for free.

I really like going there, the only problem is that I am very white and I feel terrible going there and being the only person ordering food and buying things in English. It hasn't caused any problems, everyone I've spoken to is fluent in English (and obviously having an accent doesn't mean someone doesn't understand English) but I do worry if I am inconveniencing everyone involved by not ordering in Spanish.

Just today the middle aged man I talk to asked me if I wanted to talk in English or Spanish and I fumbled (again, socially awkward. Deer in the headlights moment) and said that either was fine, it didn't matter. So he said everything in Spanish first then looked at me and when I didn't know what to say he repeated it in English. We had a friendly back and forth and he tried to teach me how to say "Have a good weekend" which I kind of fumbled back to him before bidding goodbye and high tailing it out of there.

I don't know if I'm an asshole for going knowing I don't know a lick of Spanish, or if I'm an asshole for not learning any Spanish up to this point (I've been going here over a year at this point) but I feel guilty about being an annoyance. I'm going to make some flashcards and learn some basic phrases and numbers so I'm not fumbling again like I did today but I don't know, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[cupofmilkyway]

I saw some people putting the dunmeshi gang in their own country/region and thought it was a fun idea! So here's some art and thoughts on a mexican setting:]

We have Marcille enjoying a cup of arroz con leche (rice and milk dessert), divorced dad Chilchuck eating chapulines (fried/cooked crickets) and the Touden siblings representing me and my sister when we get esquimos (icy milkshake)

More rambles + extra Chilchuck doodle under cut <3

Basilisco con tenis :)

I'm from the mainly urban part of México (basically next to the capital, if you know you know) so I didn't have a lot to draw from when it comes to traditional or regional clothing in my area, so I avoided it. But I put them in outfits I see around me commonly so I think it counts.

Chilchuck says early on that he actually enjoys eating coin bugs, so I think he'd like chapulines and other bug snacks too! He's also wearing a paliacate that he sometimes lifts up to his head when it's too hot.

All of them probably get sunburnt a lot from the climate, but I think Laios suffers the most from it since he doesn't like to put on sunscreen.

Senshi (not pictured here) has a very shady looking but delicious street food stall near Marcille and Falin's school, they met when Laios forced convinced them to try it's menudo (a soupy dish made with animal innards). He changes locations regularly but prefers to sell near universities and other schools.

Falin has hiked up the Popocatepetl at least 3 times and everytime she brings home some sort of bug for Laios to stare at.

[kedreeva]

I would love to hear about the otherworld marketplace

oh right!

Okay, so the REASON I went the expo yesterday, when we weren't planning on it previously because it is Distant, is because my friend that takes me had to exchange some caging, and the crafters were going to be at the show, so why not vend as long as we're out there if we're driving 2+ hours each way anyway. So we vend the show, it goes well, we have fun, everyone's packing up... except the vendor she's exchanging caging with, who tell her they're going to be at least another hour packing up etc and also they don't have the cages with them, we'll have to drive to their brick and mortar shop.

Well, whatever, that means we can go grab some food. We look up sushi places, grab the first/closest one, and drive out. GPS takes us to a mexican restaurant. we fiddle with the GPS and when swapped to "walking" it tells us actually it's across the street. We can't see across the street because of trees, so we drive across the street, and there's a Mall. Like a legit, old mall- and I realize with a bit of dawning horror that I KNOW this mall, it was built a couple of years before I went to college, it was shiny and new when I first visited it, we used to come here often. I did not recognize it because it looked like it at been through some kind of apocalypse. So I turn to my friend and say, we have a choice, we either go in and get Mall Sushi from a food court, or we pick someplace else. She stops her car in the middle of a road, not a parking spot, and we both look at the list of sushi places nearby. I see one just plainly called "sushi market" and it looks normal and there's a picture of its storefront indicating it is, perhaps, not Mall Food Court Sushi, and we take off.

I am expecting a Hole In The Wall sort of strip mall place like the two near my childhood home, but instead we enter The City.

The City, if you do not know, is the same place. You enter into it and you may or may not have been to this city before but you have been to The City and it all looks the same, really. The shops maybe have different names, but it's unclear if that is because time has passed and the coral reef of storefronts has grown/exchanged inhabitants or if this is a different place entirely and actually it doesn't matter. Which street you entered from may determine which stores you see, but you are always entering The City.

This place we are going is a hundred yards outside of The City, and looks like it. It is the same 100 yards outside of The City that exists down by my little sister. If the air had tasted a little different, I would have told you for sure I was in North Carolina visiting my sister, not a little bit lost in northwestern Michigan. We park in a little street parking place and look around hesitantly. There's a storefront for a bagel shop. There's a storefront for a local barbeque (local to ME, not this place, or at least I thought that was the case until I looked it up at home.... they don't have a shop local to me. I have eaten there a dozen times, at work, with others. it does not exist near me. this is how The City works though, sometimes you have to accept that). The parking lot is almost empty. The street is vacant. it's quiet. Nothing is happening in this location. The building indicated is unmarked, plain brick. No windows except at the bagel shop and barbeque's storefront windows. They do not have doors of their own, only a set of unmarked, double doors between them.

But, the GPS insists it is here, so we go through those blank doors, and step into an Otherworld. Inside, is a busy marketplace.

The floors are all dark, smooth concrete. Above is all grubby, teal-grey steel and wood, the walls are covered in bright-colored artwork. There are stalls that don't look permanent fashioning the interior into a maze. This is the bible belt of michigan. There's Thai food, sushi, a mochi donut shop. There's a stall devoted to popcorns, both in different flavors but also from specialty kinds of kernels. There's a wall of soda in glass bottles from companies I've never heard of. There were four shelves devoted to black cherry sodas. Floor to ceiling shelves of ginger beer, birch beer, root beer. There's a pastry shop around a corner where I stood and watched someone slicing a cheesecake six inches tall, decorated in strawberries like a painting. We pass a charcuterie shop to reach a wine and cheese bar, which is across from a seafood shop peddling fresh catch from the great lakes, which is next to a deli of local meats, across from a shop exclusively dedicated to seasoning rubs for meat. Tucked into a back corner is a chocolaterie selling bonbons and hand scooped michigan-made ice cream. There's some kind of reunion taking place up at the front of the place. There are old ladies buying popcorn. There's a guy looking at the soda walls, dressed like it's 3am and he couldn't sleep.

The place is packed, but there's hardly any cars in the parking lot so I have to assume people walked here. We dodge people and make it to the sushi counter, where we are greeted by a young woman who has sparkles glittering across the bridge of her nose instead of freckles. She takes our order and welcomes us to sit at the bartop to eat (we don't), and we find a quiet corner to sit and eat. It was the best sushi I've had in my life- the rice was actual sushi rice which is a good start, it was slightly warm still, it was melt-in-your-mouth good. We stopped by the chocolaterie to get a small scoop of ice cream (cashew caramel) and a couple of chocolates to bring home. They're tiny, with local strawberry/cherry fruits, with little things painted on their tops. They were delicious.

My friend took photos of some of the inside of the place. I don't know if she waited for the right moments or what, but there's almost no people in her photos. I cannot express to you enough that this place was FULL. I waited in lines to get food. That's me at the chocolate/ice cream shop counter and there were several people in front of me in line.

There was a second story we didn't make it to, because we had to leave to go get the caging. We exited back to a normal Michigan spring a hundred yards outside The City. The parking lot was mostly empty. The building was plain brick. There was no one on the street. The bagel shop and the barbeque storefronts had no people past the windows. There was no storefront for the sushi shop, because it was in the very heart of the place, it shared no walls with the building walls at all, there was no door to it.

[thealogie]

miss thea im visiting LA for the first time this weekend and i must please know if you have any recommendations…… especially for delicious things to eat and especially in the santa monica/culver city areas 🤲

Yes you’ve come to the right place because I love to eat my way across LA. I’m more of an East side girl but I do have some west side faves.

We are a reservation heavy city and it’s a little too late for that if you’re coming this weekend but here are non-reservation places:

For breakfast: do Layla bagels (for something quick and good) or destroyer (brunch spot in culver with really good brunch food). You can try to get into Elephante in Santa Monica and sometimes it works and other times they are very booked (it’s a beachy brunch spot with good food and great vibes but very trendy).

Lunch/dinner: I love love gjusta in Venice (very close to Santa Monica). It’s more of a lunch/brunch spot but you can also make it an early dinner. It’s a fancy deli with immaculate vibes. Seriously just trust me on this one. Also Great White is very basic LA girl and it does get packed with reservations at night but if you go before 5 pm it’s first come first serve and the food is good so it’s where I go whenever I don’t have a reservation and need somewhere good to go.

Sonoratown and Teddy’s red tacos are both iconic no frills casual Mexican places. I prefer sonoratown but they are both iconic.

Dan Tana’s is an old school Hollywood Italian place where the food is ok (the chicken parm is excellent) but the waiters are old stand up comedians and you just feel like you are in a movie. and they might be able to do a walk-in if you go super early.

Finally, you can go to sawtelle (a street/neighborhood near sant Monica) and just walk around and find amazing Asian restaurants. Killer noodles is a fave of mine but there’s just so much there to explore.

[the-pan-ace-writings]

El Sin Nombre

A/N> low key struggled on this one but i actually ended up really liking it and I didnt have to combined missions so it shouldnt throw of title names lol

tw> smoking (i have fascination with shotgunning so theyre gunna do it at some point in this series just not today )

First Next Last Masterlist AO3

Two trucks rumbled to a stop in some forgotten spot in the Mexican desert, their only light was the yellow tinge from the headlights, and distantly the scraping and howling of wild dogs filled the night air. 

    Soap and Alejandro roughly handled Hassan as they pulled him from the truck, he struggled blindly against them angry sounds of protest escaped him 

   “On yer knees” Soap shoved him to the ground and Alejandro ripped the bag from his head. Badger mirrored Ghost, both standing on opposite sides of the truck watching as Graves set up a computer camera to point towards Hassan. 

   “Y’all got a clear picture?” Graves was messing with the computer screen a little longer before Badger heard an affirmative from who he presumed was the American general Shepard and Laswell. “Alright, we are live, folks” he swaggered over to where Hassan was kneeling, who looked surprisingly arrogant for being the one about to be interrogated, Badger caught the look of annoyance flash across Graves face. 

   Hassan was the first to speak, leading up towards Graves as he neared. “Do you speak Arabic?” 

   “No.”

   He didn't look surprised, “Farsi?” 

   Graves looked down at him, he had his hands gripping his vest and he stood in a way that declared bored confidence, he pressed his lips in a thin line before responding. 

   “No.”

   “Course not” he smirked “Then I'll speak your bastardized medieval English because you are all uneducated street dogs.” he looked around him as he spoke before returning to watch Graves as he took a step forwards

   “Ahh, see… were getting of to a bad start here, Hassan”

   “You are talking to a Quds Force Officer” 

   “You’re the commander of a foreign terror organization”

   “I can say the same to you.” 

   Graves took another step forwards and leered at Hassan “What’s your target. ‘Major '’' the title sounded mocking as it fell from his mouth, Hassan's face twisted slightly at the insult. 

   “What was your target when they sent missiles to my land?” 

   “Oh well, wild guess…To nail your ass”

    “So insolent and foul-mouthed. You will learn to respect me when your nation sees fire.”

   Badger was certain Hassan could feel Graves' breath as he spoke with how close he had gotten, the previous humor slipping from him to be replaced with stone. 

   “You are in bed with the cartel, Hassan. If you disappeared, no one would know where to look for the fuckin’ stain.”

   Hassan turned from him and laughed before leaning ever closer. 

   “I have no doubt you’ll take pleasure in torturing me”

   “Who’d you get American missiles from?” Soap stepped forwards towards them, a look of frustration evident. Shepherd’s voice cut in roughly from the computer screen interrupting any reply Hassan might have given. 

   “I don't care who they’re from, I wanna know where they’re going” They all looked over to the screen as he spoke. Badger thought it was odd that the General wouldn't have wanted to know where they came from, He met Ghost eyes as the general spoke trying to see if he had the same suspicion as he did. 

   The dogs started again around them, and they sounded closer than then they first pulled up. Badger looked towards the middle again, and watched Alejandro who had kept his hand firmly on Hassan shake him a little with the sounds of the dogs, he saw Soap smirk at Alejandro's movement. 

   Graves took a step back from Hassan and raised his hands up to gesture to the area around them, still plunged in darkness from cloudy night. 

   “Take a look around, Hassan.” another dog howled “now you can either become part of the food chain or you can start talking” he stepped forwards and crouched down to Hassan's level, a sarcastic smile on his face.

   “I’m a hostage here, this is illegal” Hassan spoke simply.

   Alejandro pulled him back slightly so that he could speak down to him. 

   “You’re a prisoner of war” 

   “Iran is not at war with Mexico. I've broken no laws,” he tossed his head again towards graves and looked towards where Ghost was standing besides the headlights of the truck “These men and their commanders are the law breakers”  he dropped his sight to the laptop propped up as he spoke.

   Soap stepped forwards again “You and your beloved General Ghorbrani broke every--”

   “Do not speak his name!” Hassan spit the words like venom and  moved to get up, nearly launching himself towards Soap, Alejandro roughly shoving him back into place. “You executed him and you will pay for your crimes” he reared forwards again towards Graves this time.  “Only God can help you know!” 

   Badger started to step forwards from his spot against the truck as General Shepherd's angry voice came through the laptop. 

   “I want this bastard in permanent custody or looking up at the goddamn grass” 

   “General, killing Hassan is an act of war, keeping him is illegal. Right now, he is too hot to hold.” Laswell interrupted him. 

   “Tell me you're getting something actionable, Laswell”

   “Working on it. Stand by”

   Graves snatched the laptop up from the ground, placing it on the hood of the truck, Alejandro and Soap kept Hassan in place. 

   “Actual, let me finish this.” Grave spoke slowly into the computer, Ghost turned to watch him. 

   “There is nothing I would like more.” Shepherd sounded disappointed “but Laswell’s right, without proof we need to turn him loose. See where he leads us”

   Badger barely kept his anger in control as he turned sharply to watch the laptop, stepping behind Graves to look down at the General. Soap stepped over from Hassan upon hearing, and voiced the anger that Badger felt.

   “He's right here. You can't be serious.” he growled the words out, and the look of anger worsened as Shepherd spoke again.

   “I'm afraid I am, son” Badger didn't know what it was with Americans and calling everyone son but it angered him deeply he stepped forwards to join in the protest when Ghost spoke up.

   “Did we get anything from his phone?” voice ever calm and confident, that too grated on Badgers nerves. He knew logically that they were right but after all the hell they had gone through to capture Hassan, it was almost crushing to let him go and let that all be for naught. 

   “Affirmative. We got a hit.” Laswell’s voice sounded detached from the situation. 

   “Good, Now take him back and let him go.” They all shared a look of anger before nodding towards Alejandro and Hassan. 

   Hassan was roughly treated as he was tossed back into the truck, head covered and cuffed tightly once again. Any ramblings from him were cut off fast as Badger pushed him forwards pressing his face into his knees in the truck, his hand on the back of his head tightened as he leaned down to whisper threats of violence if he spoke again. He pushed his head forwards again before letting go and settling into his seat again keeping an eye on Hassan as the long drive started once again. 

   Ghost reported that Laswell Gaz and Price were doing a recon by fire mission based on the hit that they had gotten from Hassan's phone. They could only wait for the results of their mission before they could take any more action here, or even learn if they had to continue here. 

   Badger had found his way to the rooftop of Alejandro's base. He had graciously given the visiting task force quarters in the base to clean up and rest from the chaos that was then day. Badger knew he probably should be taking this time to sleep, but he found himself unable so when he finally exhausted all the tasks to keep himself busy he found himself on the roof. 

   He was freshly showered, redid Soaps handiwork on his forehead, and neaten his braided hair back into its bun. He had a lit cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, the remaining pack of cigarettes tucked into his pants pocket, they surprisingly survived the plunge into the river to his pleasure. 

   He heard the door drop against the rock he had propped in the doorway to keep it from locking him out, looking over his shoulder he saw Soap peeking out of the frame before he settled his searching gaze on him, a small smile and he was out from the door and settling himself next to Badger as he leaded against the railing looking over the landscape. He had a mug with him. 

   “Get lost wandering have you?” Badger spoke over his shoulder as Soap approached, he got a simple chuckle from the man 

   “Haven't you heard those are bad for you?” Soap joked with him, he leaned heavily against the railing and looked slightly up to speak to Badger, he just shook his head and took another drag of the cigarette. 

   “Barkin’ like my sister huh?” Badger grumbled at him when he saw Soap staring at the cigarette, “whatcha got in there?” He nodded to the mug held loosely in Soap's hand. 

   “Coffee, seems like you're not the only one unable to rest tonight”  Badger watched as he took a sip of the coffee, he turned to look back out to the landscape again exhaling the smoke away from Soap. “How's your head?” 

   Badger hummed nonchalantly, “nothing too bad, you patched me up well”

   “That's good, ye came up from the water looking absolutely deadly, looked like blood pourin’ down yer face.” He took another sip from his mug and continued to chat, filling the silence of the night as Badger followed along loosely, occasionally taking another drag from his cigarette watching as he spoke. 

   He must have missed a question because now Soap had stepped a bit closer to him and was holding out his hand asking for something unknown. Badger looked down at his hand as he shook it again, “are you out?” 

   “Out of what?” Badger asked dumbly, looking back up at Soap.

   “Smokes?” He didn't seem offended that Badger had missed the question, he seemed amused actually. 

   “Right” he tried to cover his slight embarrassment with a chuckle and grabbed the pack from his pocket, and offered it to Soap who looked at the badly water damaged box and the slightly ruined cigarettes inside, his fingers brushing against his momentarily as he grabbed one out of the pack. Badger shoved them back into his pocket and looked back out off the roof, bringing his own cigarette back to his lips. 

   Soap hummed to grab his attention, and when he turned to look back over at Soap with an unlit cigarette on his lips significantly closer, he almost took a step back but was stopped by the railing. 

   “A light?” Right. He hasn't given him the lighter. 

   He went to grab his lighter from his other pocket when Soap confidently took another step into his space and touched his unlit cigarette to the nearly gone one that Badger still had between his lips. Soap had stepped into the space between his legs to do so and gripped the railing that Badger was leaning on.  He stood stock still and watched as Soap lit his cigarette, he took a step back and took a drag from it, his hand brush his hip as it fell from the spot he grabbed the railing to lean on to reach Badger. 

   Badger coughed and flushed and did his best to look unaffected from what had happened and finished his cigarette as Soap just went back to chatting like nothing had happened. After a while Soap finished his and stubbed it out on the railing before winking at him with a smile, bidding him a good rest of his night and went back into the building to presumably catch up on rest, harassing Badger being enough to tire him out. 

   He shook his head before turning in himself. 

   They stood on a rooftop a little distant from a large adobe mansion, three stories tall, a gorgeous pool and windows and arches to the nines. The sky was darkening with nightfall, lights from the neighboring homes starting to go out as the families inside started night routines. 

   “La casa de Sin Nombre?” Soap asked as he lowered his binoculars to speak with

   Alejandro, Badger was impressed with how fast Soap was learning Spanish here even though his accent did make him sound clumsy. 

   “No. One of his Lugartenientes” 

   “A cartel Lieutenant” Soap repeated with confidence, which earned him a small pat on the shoulder from Alejandro before he turned back to look at the mansion again. Graves was looking at the mansion with his own telescope as Alejandro spoke

   “My sources tell me all the VIPs in Las Almas will be there tonight, some are invited, others are, umm…”

   “Volun-told?” Graves finished for him. 

   “yes “ 

   “What's the meet about?”

   “Us. Las Almas is burning and they want to know who lit the fire” Alejandro took a step back before looking over their group again, Badger stood next to Soap overlooking the edge, Graves had stepped closer to Alejandro so that he wasn't shouting his conversation, and per usual Ghost stood back a little distant keeping an eye on the entirety of the group. He stepped forwards. 

   “Sin Nombre will be there, yeah?” 

   “No guarantees but this is our best shot” Alejandro beckoned him closer to the rest of the group, pulling them away from the ledge and into a circle.

   “Then we take it, I got enough Shadows here to take over the whole damn country” Badger looked over at Graves sharply as he spoke, something about the man Badger found unsettling, whether it was the way he insisted on business casual under his gear or the too confident way that he spoke he wouldn't be able to tell you but it set his skin crawling. 

   “I’d prefer if you didn't” Alejandro leaned forwards as he spoke clearly miffed by Graves as well. 

   “I'm Just sayin’... one house shouldn't be a problem” humor lilted his voice. 

   “We need Sin Nombre alive” Ghost reminded 

   “Well…” Graves pulled a face and looked back over at the mansion, he might have enough shadows to take the country but he's got to keep this target alive, something that maybe his band of shadows might not be great at if the hesitation meant anything. “Then we need to meet him.”

   “How?” Soap perted up at the suggestion of action, Badger looked over to the mansion again as Graves started divulging his plan.

   “Give ‘em what they want, intel.” He smirked “they wanna know who’s here. Let’s tell ‘em”

   “In person-?” Alejandro started to object

     “Correcto '' Graves' voice took on that stomach churning confidence again “get one of us inside, find the boss” shit this was a bad plan. “Roll him up.” a really bad plan. 

   “I’ll do it” He is so fucking stupid, Badger could almost scream at that stupid Scots man. He stayed silent. 

   “You go in there, and they'll kill you, hermano” 

   “I’ll take my chances.” Badger looked over to Ghost trying to see if he'd object to Soap going in. “We came here to stop a missile, let's stop it” Ghost turned from looking at Badger to focus on Soap, It only slightly settled his nerves. “I’ll offer intel for a meeting with Sin Nombre, and if he’s there, we pounce.”  He shone with confidence. 

   “Hell yeah- you've got balls, you son of a bitch” Alejandro smiled deviously and gripped Soap’s shoulder lightly. “You make it in, you'll need eyes and ears. I'll go too”

   “I'll take overwatch” Ghost broke in, "Badger you too” He nodded silently in agreement “Shadow circles the target in a helo”

   “Roger that” Graves looked over to Soap “they are going to want poof…” he ripped a badge off of his vest and handed it to Soap. “Show ‘em this” it was the shadows insignia, They bumped fist, and Graves stepped away from the group a confident ‘call me when you need me’ tossed over his shoulder as he went to collect his part of the mission.

   The rest of the team started moving and Badger paused before following, Soap noticed his unspoken hesitation and waved back for him before lightly gripping the front of his vest and tugging him along to join the rest of the team. 

   “Stones don't worry that much” Soap jokingly whispered to him before they joined and Badger grunted before brushing him off half heartedly. 

   The lights of the city filled in the night sky and dimly lit the mountains that surrounded the city of Las Almas. Badger laid prone stiffly next to Ghost who was focused on adjusting his scope in silence. 

   “Shadows on station” Graves' voice leaked from their comm units. Ghost looked over briefly to where Badger was setting himself up with the comms and binoculars, his rifle in hand reach, and nodded before speaking into the comms. 

   “Copy. All set here.” 

   “Seein’ room to set down on the roof” Graves called out, Badger looked over the roof before whispering an affirmative over the comms to Graves, looking over the building it seemed to be chalk full of armed men peering out over every possible look out. It was extremely important that none of them were caught, the likelihood of Alejandro and Soap even combined trying to fight their way out of there successfully was slim. 

   “Eyes on two, armed at the front door” Ghost whispered into the comms, the sound rumbled through Badger. 

   “Alejandro, how you doin’?” 

   “Un Vaquero, inside…” Alejandro was whispering into the comms as well, but apparently made it inside safely.

   “Goddamn, how’d you do that?” Graves sounded mildly surprised at the speed that he had gotten in.

   “Violently” humor laced his whisper. 

   Badger looked down from the Mansion towards the driveway that led up to it, he caught Soap waking up slowly, arms raised and stripped of his normal tactical gear.

   “Eyes on Soap” Badger whispered almost too quietly, he watched as he approached closer to the armed men at the gate, watched as they shot towards his feet, watched as he flinched back before stopping.

   “Visual on Soap, confirmed” Ghost spoke into his comms, Badger must have been too quiet for the comms to pick up. 

   "Moment o’ truth” The way Graves spoke smugly in his relative safety while Soap was facing a literal loaded gun made Badger's blood simmer. 

   “They see him?” Alejandro questioned as the two men patted Soap down.

   “They do now” Ghost whisper was rough, Badger almost thought he might be as miffed as he was. 

   They watched with bated breath as they held him on his knees, weapons pointed at his head as they spoke into their radio. It only took another moment before one of the gunmen took a sack from somewhere in their pockets and covered Soap's head, and roughly dragged him back to his feet, kicking them wider so that they could pat him down further.

   It looked like the cartel took the bait.

   “They’re taking him in”

   “Kid’s got sand” Graves quipped back

   “Let's hope he keeps it, yeah?” Badger let go of the breath he had be holding in a slow controlled manner, trying to settle the simmering under his skin. 

   “I hope he makes it…” Alejandro whispered back to them, that did nothing to help settle Badger. 

   They both watched as he entered the compound and passed where they could keep and eye on him, or at least until he made it to the upper levels. 

   “Alejandro, he's all yours” Badger sat up from his prone position slowly to look around them again. 

   They were tucked into a small outcropping of trees, and rough boulders similar to the ones that littered the cliffside that they sprinted down less than two days ago. Very faintly Badger could hear the clipping of the Shadows helicopter hidden among the clouds. A storm was brewing behind the mountains, and it was sure to rain here soon. 

   He settled back down to his spotter position, and went back to searching through the upper levels of the mansion and peering into any window that he could, he could feel himself fidgeting silently. 

   The minutes crawled by, ever so slowly, and no sign of Soap, and Alejandro was silent, 

   “Where the fuck are they?” Badger growled lowly, he hated with all his heart missions like this, he wasn't made for recon, and barely possessed the patients to be a spotter he was one to go into the fight and tonight there wasn't supposed to be a fight, and if there was going to be one he wasn't going to be able to join. The simmering of his blood itched his skin and a grimace started growing on his face. 

   “Be patient.” Ghost snapped at him. “Sit fuckin’ still.” Badger hadn't noticed that he was messing with his binoculars again. He looked over at Ghost after settling back down. He looked like stone, not moving in the slightest, it barely looked like he was breathing only occasionally could Badger catch the slight expand of his shoulders. He flinched slightly when Ghost turned his head suddenly to look at him. “Spottin’ or starin’ Badger?” 

   Shit. 

   “Spottin’” Badger flushed slightly as he turned back to what he was suppose to be doing. Fortunately he caught a glimpse of Soap in a large window. 

   “Ghost,” Badger whispered to the specific window that he glanced Soap in. A guard pressed him against glass on the opposite side from the window they were looking into and seemed to be patting him down once again. The guard handed him a mask and he pulled it on. 

   “Ghost, we’re in” Alejandro broke the long radio silence, Badger relaxed slightly 

   “What’ve you got?”

    “El Sin Nombre is in the penthouse. Third Floor.” Soap's voice lit up the comms,  Badger caught the slight exhale from Ghost and watched as his shoulders seemed to ease some of the tension. 

   “Elevator is a straight shot. We just need Diego’s keycard” Alejandro and Soap moved off through the mansion and they lost sight of them again. 

   “Where’s Diego?” Ghost urged them

   “The Ofrenda. Second floor”

   “You seein’ anything, Lt?” 

   “If you can scout a way to the rood, there is access to the penthouse” Ghost turned with his rifle slowly to presumably look over to the penthouse access, Badger hadn't caught the access point. 

   “I’m headed upstairs either way”

   “Cuidado, hermano. Guards find you up there- or in the garage- they’ll shoot on sight.” Alejandro warned 

   “What's in the garage?” Badger and Soap spoke at the same time. 

   “No idea, but it’s important to Diego”

   “Find El Sin Nombre and let's get this done. Out here” Ghost closed the open comms on their side and sunk deeper into his position with his rifle cradled carefully in his grip, Badger pulled his own rifle closer to him, rechecking that it was alright where it rested. 

   Soap and Alejandro moved to the complete opposite side of the roof so Badger only caught a small glimpse of either of them. Soap was wandering as inconspicuous as he could while trying to quickly find his way to the second floor. Badger caught him slinking back into the building and off of the open roof area. Soap occasionally reported when he found something particularly helpful and it was mildly comforting to hear him report when he found weapons, he wasn't unarmed anymore. 

   “I'm on the second floor.” 

   “Diego is in the Ofrenda. Its somewhere on this floor”

   They watched him dodge the sight of guards, passing slowly between windows visible to them from their outlook. He came out to a balcony tucked in a corner just barely in Badger's line of sight. He paused before ducking back into whatever room that led to the balcony.

   “Alejandro- Found Diego” he sounded slightly breathless

   “Roger that”

   There was the sound of mild scuffling coming from the comms after Soap disappeared deeper into the mansion again, but no alarms sounded and no one seemed to be alerted to whatever commotion he was causing. Badger paused as he watched Soap reappear on the balcony, he looked a little roughed up but he now had a pistol in hand, and while he couldn't see his face Badger would be money that he had the stupid lopsided grin that he'd taken to when he was about to cause problems. 

   “Things are bout ta get hot here” Soap sounded like he was grinning that's for damn sure. Badger put the binoculars down to grab purchase on his rifle, its scope was smaller and made it harder to keep an eye on Soap, Ghost Huffed alongside him as he focused on what Soap was doing.

   “A la verga! Guess we’re doing this.” 

   A single shot rang out, and for a moment nothing happened. Another breath of air and the whole compound broke into chaos. A siren sounded and men started rushing towards where Soap had launched himself through a window towards wherever he had shot. 

   “Ghost, we’re compromised!” Badger swore he heard a short burst of what could have been a chuckle from Ghost before he started firing towards any of the armed men that he could reach. 

   “Copy, covering exterior!” he paused his fire for a moment, “Badger, keep an ear out” 

   Badger made an affirmative and looked around them quickly before going back to help take out men along the roofs, Soap and Alejandro were unseen again but they could hear their clamor over the comms. 

   “Alejandro, Diego's dead” Soap emerged back into sight on the balcony, and he flashed the key card before tucking it into a pocket

   “A huevo. That's my carnal. Meet at the elevator!” Soap took off like a bat out of hell towards the insides of the building again. 

   Quickly there were no more targets for them to shoot, and they were still clear, no one had found their way up to them if they were looking. Badger had a sneaking suspicion that they might be too busy with the deadly duo that they had trapped to look out for the deadly hillside sniper. 

   The elevator seemed to interfere with the comms, their link went dead for a moment, almost long enough for Badger to call out over it to them until the clamor returned and it sounded like they breached into a room.

   “Snake cam is set, time to get PID on El Sin Nombre” Alejandro whispered over the comms

   “Lets put a face to the nameless” a pause “no fucking way” breathless. 

   “What is it?” 

   “The Sicaria I met downstairs. Valeria- Shes El Sin Nombre”

   “Valeria? Are you sure, hermano?” Badger was surprised to hear anger reaching into Alejandro's voice. 

   “Yes.” Soap confirmed again, he heard a curse over the comms and he couldn't tell who it was from, 

   “Graves, Sin Nombre is posing as a female sicaria. We’re moving in. You set?” 

   “Check” 

   “Ghost? Badger?”

   “Ready.” “we’re here” they spoke at the same time. 

   “Take her alive”

   A crashing came over the comms and then yelling as they presumably burst through a door, constant fire filled over the comms and they tracked the flashing of fire through windows keeping an eye out for anyone that burst from the penthouse. 

   “She ran out the back!” Alejandro was shouting “Don't let her escape!”

     Graves' helicopter became visible coming out from cloud cover and lowering close to the more open spaces of the roof, A door crashed open and a smaller figure rushed forwards. Fuck. it had to be her. 

   “Down! Get down. Now!” They could faintly hear the PA system from the Helicopter from their location; they were fortunate that she ran towards their side of the mansion so that they could keep and eye on the situation. “A bullet will make you kneel.” “‘atta girl” 

   “Ground team you're clear to move in'' They could hear graves speaking from Soaps comm as he approached the now kneeling woman to take her into custody.

   “El Sin Nombre” Soap was pulling her to her feet.

   “My name is Valeria” she sounded angry, clearly. 

   “Hiding in plain sight?” 

   “Hiding?” She sounded confident for the situation that she was in. “I’m everywhere..soldier” 

   Graves stepped down from where he was perched in the Helicopter to meet the woman, Valeria. 

   “That's good. So are we. let's go” Badger could hear the smirk in his voice, one of the shadows took her from Soap and pushed her into the helicopter, she seems to pause looking back at Alejandro. 

   “Hermano…what's up?” Soap had moved next to Alejandro who seemed to still be starting into the helicopter. 

   “Valeria…I know her.”

   They both climbed into the helicopter and Ghost and Badger watched it take off towards Alejandro's base. 

   Ghost was on his feet and collected the remainder of his gear before taking off down the hill towards the transport vehicle they had to drive to here. Badger followed closely in silence, and when they got to the transport he dumped his gear settling into the passenger seat, Ghost slipped into the drivers and they started rumbling down the road. Badger took out his pack of cigarettes. 

   He brought one to his lips and lit it, taking a deep drag of it before he looked over at Ghost, who to his surprise was staring at him, or rather at the cigarette. Badger grinned sheepishly and took it from his lips to offer to Ghost, and he was just a tad more surprised when Ghost gently took it from him. Badger turned away from Ghost so that he could smoke without eyes upon his face. 

   “Thank you”

   Badger nodded silently and lit another one and closed his eyes as they drove. It was going to be another long night no doubt.

First Next Last Masterlist AO3

[t6506615]

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[glamourooze]

I took this photo of my boy, Miguel, this morning at 6:45am. I knew this would be the last morning I would have waking up with him. He has always slept in my bed and I have always woken up to him nearby. Every single day for the past 15 years and 9 months. And now I have to go to sleep without him near my face or on my back. Not even under my blankets with me. And I will wake up without him. No weight on my legs or meowing for breakfast.

I mostly fear that moment tomorrow morning when I first wake up and I still believe he is here. It’s going to hurt. It’s going to hurt so fucking much because in that moment I will be happy again. But it will come and go so fast. I almost want to believe that maybe if I do believe strongly enough, if I can trick myself enough into truly believing he is still here and just in the other room, then maybe the universe will realize its mistake. ‘That person believes their cat is still alive so it must be true! We must have made a mistake!’ And the universe will plop Miguel back into my arms, healthy and alive and purring. I wish it worked like that.

I miss him so much. And the thing is, I’ve been missing him. He’s been a little down for a while now. But it got worse around September 15th and by the 20th, he wasn’t eating and was stumbling around. Falling and getting cold. I was so fucking scared. I cried into his fur, telling him over and over “I’m not ready. Please don’t break my heart. I’m not ready.”

We got him to a vet and he was extremely anemic. They could barely draw blood. But all the tests came back negative. The only thing they couldn’t test for at the time was cancer. They gave him a bunch of medicine and we took him home. We bought him joint meds and iron supplements and senior cat food and treats. Some high calorie snacks to help him gain weight. And he was better for a while. He finally ate some kibble! Which he hadn’t eaten in years. He had completely switched to wet food.

So Miguel was eating kibble and drinking water and taking his meds and doing good. He got to see my daughter turn 9 years old. He got to see my sister’s kids one last time. Because they had recently moved away but unexpectedly dropped by just a few days ago. But this past week he got bad again. Doing the same stuff he was before. Not eating. Drinking lots of water. And, I failed to mention, but while he was eating and ‘getting better’ he was having trouble with leaking poop.

It was hard but this whole week, and really the whole extra month we had with him, I’ve been thinking real hard on his whole situation.

Love hurts. It fucking hurts. Because all love comes with suffering. I must suffer because I love him and I didn’t want to force him to stay alive just to avoid the pain of being without him. So I made the choice today, after having him by my side all last night, to euthanize him.

I had him stay in my bed one last time. I didn’t care if he made the bed messy. I have a washing machine. I just needed him to know that I love him and that I was going to take care of him. And I think he knew. He kept rubbing his head against me and I petted him all night. Talked to him. Told him everything that was on my mind and how I’m still not ready, not 100 percent ready, but no one ever is and I wasn’t going to have him go another day and night with an empty belly, falling down everywhere. I thanked him for the extra month. That it really helped me get ready. And that he can go play with Molly now. (My daughter’s kitten that died back in January of this year)

I made him a sweater. Hand knitted it. He always loved wearing clothes. It was a beautiful, warm day. A perfect last day. Miguel’s last meal was on Friday. It was a pork street taco for our local Mexican restaurant. I always get the pork ones on Friday because they are on sale. I always order an extra one for him. I’m glad he got to eat that. That he had the energy to eat that day. The extra month I had him, he got to eat all of his favorite foods. Spaghetti, pork tacos, turkey, pepperoni, bacon, ham. My boy loved ham. And anytime we ordered a bacon cheeseburger he would come over, begging for a bit of bacon. His favorite snack was pepperoni slices. Second favorite snack was strips of ham or turkey lunch meat.

I’m going to share some pictures of my boy now.

And I apologize for this long, sad post. Especially since I haven’t been around Tumblr for a long while. I’ve been with him. My boy. My Miguel.

[posttexasstressdisorder]

"The best revenge..."

...is living and eating WELL while (and in spite of) living in poverty.

I actually had the gumption to try and have a cafe 30 or so years ago, and I live with a guy who had his own bakery: a Danish-trained Chef currently working as a Sous Chef at a big hotel in The City, and his 21 yr old son (who has literally been an assistant sous chef to his dad his whole life).

We're all barely afloat, his son is looking for his first real job-job "out there", and getting discouraged. Y'all hear regularly about my poverty status, and my roomie chef is doin' as much as he can, and we're all three freakin' broke.

Fuck it. We may be broke, but we are are gonna Eat as best we can with what we got. So to the current example.

Yes, I know how to cook Mexican Food like any native ex-south-texan worth his salt and lime. Yes I learned how mama/grandma did it, either mine or someone else's.

Roomie and I are carnivores, son is veg. We all agree that Mexican Food is good, so I'm always looking for how to spend my "old-fuck-on-food-stamps EBT the best way.

Behold, Example 1: 20 lb. bag of dried pinto beans.

20 lbs for $17. And lookee there: it's Fiesta, no stranger to this former Austinite. And anyone who knows knows that this boy knows how to make a pot o'pintos, with/without carnivorousness. Keep 'em on the stove long enough you got Refrieds.

Somebody at Groce-Out is from Texas, gotta be: They have Velveeta and Rotel (for QUESO!) at near-normal prices! I laughed today. Velveeta was 6.99 at Groce-Out, and I shit you not, $14.95 at Lucky.

Got that along with a couple 2-lb bags of their "Hollis Street" whole bean French Roast (Dark) for $11.95 ea. This is surprisingly good coffee beanage, freshly roasted right up the road in Emeryville, evidently. So good coffee for cheap. A similar brand at the 'non discount' grocery store I go to is $21 for a 2lb bag.

While they aren't the winner in the coffee bean competition, Lucky (the non-discount store) is great for meat, especially mid-week, when they have lots of specials. Their "megapaks" of chicken thighs (10/pkg) were buy one get one free. So for ten bucks, I got 20 thighs (over 7lbs), which, when roasted with lots of salt and pepper, and cooled and shredded and deboned become something like 4 pounds of Chicken Enchilada Meat. For ten bucks.

Tomorrow I go to another discount store closeby roomie told me about that has the best commercial Hatch Chile in a jar I have ever found. Tastes like mine, when we would get a case at a time at Central Market, get 'em roasted in the parking lot, and take 'em home and shuck most of the the skins/seeds, and saute onion and garlic and add. In. A. Fucking. Jar.

So you see where this is heading.

We will be having a TexMex Enchilada/taco Feast that can be repeated at will until we've eaten/given enough away. Freezer. Vacuum sealer. Oooooooom.

And yeah, we got the dessert thing covered. I buy flour, the three sugars, butter, real cream, good organic milk, good brown eggs. I bake everything from fucking scratch. I buy berries and grapes as my main fruit. I don't buy a lot of processed ANYTHING. I buy ingredients. And bread/tortillas, obvs. And I'm happy I have the "card" that gives me my eeked-out apportionment of "food funds".

So that old adage of "The Best Revenge" being "living well" means we may be fucking poor, but goddammit, we are gonna Eat, with a capital E if I have anything to say about it.

All three of us are pretty much clinging to the same leaky life-raft, this accursed but oh-so-necessary apartment, not much overlap in our lives/diets/schedules, but every once in awhile I get to go back into "restaurant mode" and do up a Massive Feed. Share with the neighbors and stock the freezer.

And a pot of beans on the stove in perpetuity.

[hearthfire-heartfire]

let's talk about trump and the tea party.

for folks who are a bit younger, you may or may not remember that the response to obama's 2008 election from the right was to fracture: the tea party was a grassroots movement of right-wing folk who thought the GOP was too centrist and corrupt. they positioned themselves as defenders of the constitution and, essentially, a populist party composed of the scions of the founding fathers, hence the name 'the tea party' and the adoption of 18th century iconography like the 'don't tread on me' flag and tricorne hats. they won a bunch of seats in congress and having to capitulate to them in the name of diplomacy created a lot of the deadlock that obama ran up against when his administration tried to do anything following the 2010 mid-term elections. this became the blueprint for what constitutes 'normal' behavior in american politics.

trump became a media darling both because he was regularly on tv on 'the apprentice' (all the way until 2015 when he was fired by nbc over his remarks on mexican immigrants while campaigning) and because his tweets became really popular among tea party members. he was the one who really put fire in the rumor that obama was born in kenya by tweeting about it, he rallied people with cries of 'show us your birth certificate,' and his jabs at obama were taken very seriously by what would become his core base. this was how he launched his political career.

i do not think we would have q-anon without the tea party. project 2025 has been in the works thru a network established in the reagan era (side note: please sign up for sarah kendzior's substack. she was a political journalist specializing in covering autocracies before trump was elected and i've been following her since then), but their methods have become much less subtle the more the right is rewarded for their unhinged tactics and outright insurrection.

if trump goes away, the momentum behind his base is still a threat to the world. if he is defeated at the polls, his base is going to take that as proof of the vast conspiracy they have constructed around him. and the truth is that individuals within the democratic party are beholden to the network organizing project 2025 even if they don't agree with nor explicitly endorse their aims. the dnc is actively campaigning against their own members who are unfriendly to AIPAC, like jamal bowman, and biden is talking about how only god could make him step down at this point.

i don't blame people for being afraid, but i will blame folks who are choosing to point their fear at a strawman version of the left instead of recognizing that we have been hamstrung by our own. what should be a time to reinvest in our mutual values has become a frenzy of panic and regression. we can't go back to 2019. wear a mask and see if there a street medic training or a mask bloc or food distro near you.

[themagdalenaotiende]

> Tres Amigos Stall, Pride Event. For @doctornilaybailey

If there were one adjective to describe Blue Harbor, Magdalena would probably settle for 'welcoming'. Every person she had spoken with at the festival thus far had been nothing short of friendly, and it only encouraged her to truly do right by the town with the project she was brought in to oversee.

"I'd love to tell you about what we have planned so far!" She had exclaimed to the anthropologist, a Doctor Nilay Bailey, she had got talking to at the Mexican street food stand, the two women sharing one of the picnic benches near the stall, as she tackled eating her trio of tacos as gracefully as she could muster. "But first you must tell me about your wing at the museum, I haven't had a chance to explore it yet. My only visits there have been strictly business."

[calliope-king]

I’ve lived in Amman, Jordan for the last year, and since I’m going back home to the states in a week, I wanted to share some of my favorite places in the city (I’m not gonna pretend like I’m a local or that I know everything, but still wanted to share these!).

First of all, cafes. This one is very important as it made up 70% of my going out experiences in Amman. My favorite is Sade Cafe in Jabal Amman. They have tons of cats that wander in and out of the cafe. The staff is really nice. It’s never really crowded. Also they have chess boards! (Which is really a plus since a lot of places don’t let you play chess or cards because they think you are gambling). Finally, the Mexican hot chocolate is fire. Literally.

Close second is Manara. The view from the terrace particularly around sunset is amazing, and it’s also super big so you can go there to study without having to order anything. That said I love the Spanish lattes there. And! They have punch cards for free drinks. Don’t forget those! They also sometimes I believe do film screenings on the roof, and I highly recommend those.

Shout out to Jungle Fever as well! Near the big blue King Abdullah Masjid. The art gallery below is really cool, and the cookies there are very good (by Western dessert in Amman standards).

Speaking of desserts, trying kanafa is a must in Jordan! No doubt in your first week (or even day) in the country you will hit up Habibahs. The kanafa there is excellent (although I have to admit the best I’ve ever had I watched someone make by hand over an actual fire in the woods). However! I personally believe the kanafa at Bab Al-Yemen (or as my friend once accidentally said Yab Al-Bamen) is better. Do yourself a favor, go there and get the kanafa with the Karak tea.

My personal favorite Arabic dessert is Awameh, but I never found any amazing places for this in Amman. If you know any, let me know!

Final and most important point on desserts, if you have a birthday coming up in Jordan, order the ice cream cake at Bekdash (the berry cheesecake flavor one). I believe there are multiple branches in the city, but we always go to the one in Wast Al-Balad.

Now that I have said the words Bab Al-Yemen, I got to say… I think it’s overrated. It’s worth going to, don’t get me wrong. The fahsa slaps. But I don’t think it’s as good or as cheap as everyone makes it out to be. Also sometimes… they try to scam you.

On the topic of scams, in my opinion, avoid all the restaurants above the ground level in Balad. The food is not that good and is overpriced because I guess it’s farther from the ground?? If you want to eat in Balad, go to Sharezade. The arayes there are so good, and I don’t even like arayes. When I say avoid all places above ground level, I am not talking about the Ezwetti Initiative (although they are more of a quick sandwich stand). Really anything up that set of stairs (the cafes and shops) is good. There’s a cute Palestinian jewelry and clothing shop up there too, although I can’t remember the name.

I will probably add to this later, but for now, a quick lightning round.

Alloy, it’s a jewelry shop in Jabal Amman. Everything there is really cute and unique. It’s all vintage or handcrafted by the man who owns the shop. Definitely check it out for you or your loved ones.

Shisha! I love Ayyam Zaman on Rainbow Street, mostly for nostalgia reasons. Also Beit Baladna in Lwebdeh is nice, but some of my friends have warned me against the tiramisu there.

You have to go to Bait Al-Roman. It’s a juice place, and it’s also in Jabal Amman. A worker there once recommended to me the Mango Passionfruit flavor, and I have not found a better one yet.

If you happen to be in the Sports City/Shmeisani area, go to Tash bakery. Specifically, you have to order their zataar manaqeesh with the stuffed cheese crusts. Best thing I’ve ever had. Your welcome.

Maybe this is cliche, but my favorite spot in the city is the Citadel. Please go. Particularly around sunset.

That’s it for now! Of course, listen to locals above me. Also, pretty much all food in restaurants pale in comparison to food made at home here. Seriously, try to get adopted by a local family here and let them feed you mansaf, msakhan, and malouba at home (and makmoura too if you are lucky). Let me know if anyone has any other recommendations!! 💕