#the ones who went willingly and the ones who were forced

[bokutosbabe]

hii I wanted to send a request for the more than a married couple event😋 I wanted to request rin and the emojis 🫐 and 🧁

Hi!!

A Rin Itoshi Blueberry Cupcake

જ⁀♡⊹｡° but my luck couldn't get any worse

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event

♡ content — rin itoshi x gn! reader, gn! reader, rin still plays soccer, people view rin as 'cold' and 'cruel', one bed trope, kinda forced proximity(?), made it where rin doesn't mean to be cold he just doesn't know how to interact with others, set in high school (third year/senior year), mention of god one or twice, rin is a DIVA (he doesn't wanna sleep on the couch)

♡ synopsis — you could live with rin itoshi as long as the two of you just stayed out of each others space. that was the easy part...until his bed decided to break.

The marriage simulation announcement hit the school like a tidal wave. Some students were giddy with anticipation, while others, like you, wanted to melt into the floor. Living with someone and pretending to be married for an entire month? The idea alone made your stomach churn.

But nothing prepared you for what happened next.

Your name. Rin Itoshi’s name. Side by side on the pairing list.

The moment you saw it, the air seemed to shift. Whispers darted through the room like wildfire, and everyone’s eyes locked on you. You looked over at Rin, who was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. His expression was as unreadable as ever, but his piercing teal eyes glanced briefly in your direction before looking away again.

"Good luck," someone muttered, half-pitying, half-jealous.

With the reputation Rin Itoshi held, you thought you may need more than luck to survive the next month.

The silence in the simulation apartment was deafening when you and Rin first arrived. Like the other couples, you were handed a list of tasks and expectations, ranging from grocery shopping to date nights to budgeting your "shared" finances. Unlike most of the other pairs, however, Rin made no effort to hide his disinterest.

He surveyed the apartment with a sharp gaze before retreating to his room with barely a word. You were left standing in the living room, clutching the folder of instructions and wondering how you’d survive the next month.

It didn’t help that Rin had a reputation. Brooding, blunt, and fiercely competitive—those were the words most people used to describe him. But as the days went on, you realized there was more to him than that.

Rin wasn’t completely unbearable. In fact, he was startlingly efficient when it came to the tasks. Cooking, cleaning, and even budgeting—he handled it all with precision, as if he were strategizing for a soccer match. But the atmosphere between you remained tense, like walking on eggshells.

Until the incident with the bed.

It happened a week into the simulation. You were reading through the task list when Rin walked out of his room, an unusually irritated look on his face.

“There’s a problem,” he said flatly.

“What kind of problem?” you asked warily, putting the list down.

He gestured toward the open door of his room. “The bed frame broke.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

“The bed frame,” he repeated, his tone clipped. “It’s broken. Maintenance won’t fix it until next week.”

“Oh.” You hesitated. “I guess you’ll have to… sleep on the couch?”

Rin’s eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. “The couch is too small.”

“Well, then what—” You stopped mid-sentence as the realization hit you. “No. Absolutely not.”

“It’s just a bed,” he said, crossing his arms. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, but—” You faltered, heat rushing to your cheeks. Sharing a bed with Rin Itoshi? That sounded like the setup to a bad rom-com, not something you’d willingly agree to. But his expression left little room for argument.

“Fine,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “But stay on your side.”

That night, you lay stiffly on one side of the bed, clutching the blanket like a lifeline. Rin was equally silent beside you, his back turned as if to create as much distance as possible. The bed wasn’t small, but it felt like it, the awareness of his presence making every breath feel amplified.

“This is ridiculous,” you muttered under your breath.

“What is?” Rin’s voice cut through the darkness.

“This. All of this,” you said, gesturing vaguely even though he couldn’t see. “The simulation, the tasks, the… shared bed situation.”

He didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer than you expected. “It’s not like I asked for this either.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But it’s just so… awkward.”

Rin shifted slightly, and you felt the mattress dip beneath his weight. “Then stop overthinking it.”

You turned your head to look at him, surprised by his candidness. His profile was outlined faintly by the moonlight streaming through the window, and for a moment, you saw a different side of him—less guarded, more human.

“Easier said than done,” you murmured, rolling onto your back.

Rin didn’t reply, but his presence felt a little less suffocating after that.

Oh and, also, the matienence people never came to fix his bedframe. You were sure this was some sort of malicious prank on you. As if god himself had been watching you like this was a comedy only he found funny.

One morning, about halfway through the week, you woke to the warmth of something solid and steady pressed against you. For a moment, you didn’t move, still caught in that hazy place between sleep and wakefulness. It wasn’t until you shifted slightly that you realized Rin’s arm was draped over your waist, his chest rising and falling against your back.

Your eyes flew open. How had this even happened?

Slowly, you turned your head to glance back at him, your heart racing. Rin was still asleep, his expression unusually peaceful. The usual tension in his features was gone, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite describe.

You thought about moving, but the warmth of his arm, the weight of his presence—it wasn’t… uncomfortable. And judging by how relaxed he seemed, he didn’t seem to mind either.

So you stayed. Just for a little while longer.

When Rin finally stirred, his eyes fluttering open, you braced yourself for the inevitable awkwardness. But to your surprise, he didn’t pull away immediately. His gaze met yours, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The silence was thick, but not unbearable.

Then, he spoke. “...How did this happen?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Rin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he finally moved, his arm sliding away as he sat up. “It’s… whatever,” he muttered, his tone strangely subdued. “Don’t overthink it.”

You sat up too, your heart still pounding. “I wasn’t—”

“Good.” He got out of bed and walked toward the bathroom, his movements uncharacteristically hesitant. Just before disappearing inside, he paused. “...Sorry, by the way.”

You blinked. “For what?”

“For that,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the bed. And then he was gone.

You stared after him, your thoughts swirling. Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe it was something.

The following days brought small but surprising changes. Rin, while still stoic, seemed to make more of an effort to engage with you. It wasn’t much—an extra question here, a quiet comment there—but it was enough to shift the dynamic between you.

And then there were the moments when the “fake couple” act forced you closer than you were comfortable admitting. Holding hands in public, sitting closer during classes, and—most unnerving of all—the lingering touches that came with the territory.

“It’s for the grade,” Rin said one afternoon, his hand resting lightly on your lower back as you walked into a mock “family dinner” event.

“Sure,” you replied, trying to ignore the way your heart sped up at his touch.

The bed situation, meanwhile, remained an unspoken tension between you. Every night, you’d lie on opposite sides, trying your best to ignore the proximity. But as the days went on, the awkwardness began to fade.

One night, after an exhausting day of tasks, you both collapsed onto the bed without much ceremony. You didn’t even realize how close you’d ended up until you felt Rin’s arm brush against yours.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, moving to create space.

“Don’t,” he said quietly. “It’s fine.”

You glanced at him, surprised. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, but there was something oddly comforting about his presence. Against your better judgment, you allowed yourself to relax.

By the final week of the simulation, the line between “fake” and “real” had become increasingly blurred. Rin wasn’t just tolerable—he was… comforting. Reliable. And, though you hated to admit it, you found yourself looking forward to his company.

The realization hit you like a freight train one evening as you sat together on the couch, going over the final budget task. He looked up from the spreadsheet, his teal eyes meeting yours, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“You’re staring,” he said bluntly.

You blinked, heat rushing to your face. “No, I’m not.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he returned to the spreadsheet, leaving you to grapple with your own feelings.

The final task—a formal dinner—was both a relief and a heartbreak. As you stood side by side, dressed to the nines and presenting your “marriage” portfolio to the grading panel, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness. The simulation was almost over.

When it ended, the apartment felt strangely empty. You packed your things in silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging between you.

“Hey,” Rin said suddenly, breaking the quiet.

You turned to face him, your heart pounding. “Yeah?”

He hesitated, his usual confidence faltering. “I don’t want this to be over.”

You stared at him, unsure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

“This,” he said, his voice firmer now. “I don’t want it to go back to the way it was.”

A lump formed in your throat as his words sank in. “Rin…”

Before you could say anything else, he stepped closer, his teal eyes locking onto yours. “You don’t have to say anything now. Just… think about it.”

As if you needed time to think about being with the Rin Itoshi.

ugh i love rin so much

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[i-mean-technically]

#i feel like the anti-organic rhetoric is ramped up in tfa for a reason#there's some reason why Ultra Magnus and the council want mecha to stay away from organics and im just staring at it#... if we're rolling with the (Arachna 9 was a set up) theory Ultra might've chose an organic planet on purpose @transingthoseformers

yes that's what i've been thinking too! why were they told to stay away from organics. i mean there's always the quintessons as a reason bc i like them as enemies.

but that seems like a cop out to me idk.

and 👀👀 yeah yeah yeah Arachna 9 being a set up and it being an organic planet????? high command KNEW it was dangerous that's why it was off limits in the first place. and that much fuel/treasure on a ship???? they wouldn't leave it.

sure, command and Magnus say that decepticons don't exist but the war happened and the 'cons and probably all the war frame autobots that refused to be forcibly reformatted were kicked out of cybertronian space. meaning that they couldn't risk them getting whatever was on the ship. meaing that there probably wasn't anything on the ship if it was a set up

[viric-dreams]

Weeks after learning of the Commodore's death--when he could no longer lie in bed consumed by grief, after he was forced to get up, to feed himself, to keep going--Roberts had visited the Dark-Spectacled Admiral. There was no love lost between the Admiral and the Commodore over the years. Roberts had heard plenty of the stories of the Commodore's frustrations upon return from his many trips to London. He hadn't seen the Admiral himself since he was barely more than a child. Yet he had to try.

As the years had gone by, the old guard had slowly faded out of the picture, until there were so very few people left who remembered the olden days. Remembered the Commodore as Roberts knows--knew him. The man who was full of jokes and life, whose charisma captured a room. One who cared. A man who'd spent hours yelling encouraging words through a layer of crumpled steel, trying to grant some level of comfort to a trapped and terrified child, to at the very least abate some of that terror in what could've likely been his final moments. The man who had slowly faded into placidity and smiles and bright nothingness as the years had gone on.

The Admiral was no friend to either of them, not since the schism, but perhaps he might remember the friendship the two had once had. Perhaps he might care that he died. Perhaps there is someone else who remembers the man, the same one Roberts does, and feels something at his passing. He has to try.

He adjusts his spectacles, hiding the puffiness of his eyes from view, and knocks on the door.

[genderqueerdykes]

one of the most evil parts about me being told that i needed to lose weight before i could get my diseased gallbladder removed was that without telling me at all whatsoever, the physician's assistant who was responsible for my surgery consult silently gave me a referral for bariatric weight loss surgery. she told me that i'd have to get my gallbladder removal surgery with that department as well because they're used to working on bigger bodies.

she told me this, but that's not what she meant. she wanted me to get bariatric weight loss surgery all because i told her that i have poly cystic ovarian syndrome and that it's hard for me to willingly lose weight. when i called the bariatric surgeons about scheduling my consult for my gallbladder removal, they were extremely confused and were like "well is this for the bariatric surgery referral or the gallbladder removal referral?"

without my permission, without me asking, the physician's assistant silently signed me up for weight loss surgery that i never consented to. i never once mentioned wanting this surgery. i never once mentioned that my weight is affecting my health or bothering me. this person saw this as a mandatory step in order to get the surgery to remove my diseased organ. as if there were no other options. i never want to get bariatric weight loss surgery because i know it will completely devastate my health. this PA was so stuck on my weight. she could not get over it, she was literally obsessed. she did not care about my health, safety or well being, she was just obsessed with her hatred of fat people

she saw my weight as a higher priority than my diseased gallbladder. she was so stuck up her own ass that she was convinced that my weight was doing more damage to me than my gallbladder was. she wanted to keep blaming me for eating a high fat diet (i'm a vegetarian- i don't eat a high fat diet) and mocking me for being fat. she literally saw me being fat as a bigger issue than the fact that i had a literal rock stuck in the neck of one of my organs. if you ask me, if the surgeons and anesthesiologists have problems working on fat patients, that's a skill issue on them. that means you're a bad surgeon or anesthesiologist and you need to try to improve your skills. this is a literal skill issue, it's not the patient's fault that the medical professional fucking sucks at their job!

i can't describe to you how evil and insidious that is. the fact that she looked at me and went "oh my fucking god it's your weight that's the problem just go lose weight you fat asshole" just showed how much disregard she has for her fat patients. it's like she relishes torturing us or leaving us to be sick or die. there's no reason to behave this way. there's no reason to FORCE someone into weight loss surgery. my health is NOT being negatively impacted by my weight- gallstones are not caused by being overweight, and you can't give yourself gallstones. no matter how much fat you eat you can't give yourself gallstones- this is something that happens outside of your control

i hate medical professionals who are proudly fatphobic. they wear the fact that they let people remain sick and die as a badge of honor. like they're doing the world a favor. like staying sick or dying is better off for the patient. like the patient somehow doesn't "DESERVE" to be in good health. fat people DO deserve to be in good health. we DON'T have to "EARN" surgeries or life saving procedures. we are alive and human just like everyone else. this qualifies us for being cared for medically, no matter what. leave your prejudices at home. you can't just kill fat people because you don't like that we exist.

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[flangore]

❥ scarlet plumes

feat.: Valentino/f!reader

warnings: nsfw content, noncon, physical + psychological abuse, unhealthy relationships, violence, drugging, rough sex, choking, punishments, manipulation, Valentino is his own warning

You were not the type to get into trouble.

Being confrontational, at least attempting to have things go your way through protests and complaints, had never seemed worth it; not when the one you were up against was Valentino, who always got what he wanted in the end, one way or another.

All too often, you had seen the way he punished disobedient whores; all too often, you had watched the way they were still limping days after, bruises blooming on skin if they had been lucky, bullet wounds trying to heal, oozing blood, if they had been less so.

There was no reason to willingly go through the struggle of disobeying when simply giving in, caving to Val's wishes and orders, was so much easier.

When Valentino told you to bend over, you did so readily, spreading your thighs apart in offering; when Valentino ordered you down onto your knees, you went obediently, lips dropping open, praying he wasn't in a bad mood, unpredictable as his sudden bursts of anger often made him.

You were not the type to get into trouble, and yet you currently found yourself on the floor, crumpled in front of Valentino's boots, cheek warm and stinging.

“Now, why don't you tell me what happened, baby?” His tone was a low coo, almost gentle enough to soothe your sobs. “You've never acted out like this before. What happened to my well-behaved girl, hm?”

In your defense, it really hadn't been your fault — you hadn't meant to do it.

Your night shift had been supposed to be a simple session for a well-known client, consisting of some lap dancing and a blow job; that was what he had paid for, at least. Your surprise when he had begun ripping your skimpy panties off you, forcing your legs apart, hands greedy, mouth drooling, high on some drug, was therefore understandable in your eyes; as was the way you, in your shock, had lashed out, claws scratching at his chest in order to push him off you. A split second later, the side of your face had ached with pain, his flat palm having met your cheek before he had stormed out of the room, screaming and spitting.

Valentino had been with you after barely any time at all.

“I didn't—”, you choked out, voice trembling, “I didn't mean to do it, sir, I swear, he just startled me, and, I mean, he didn't pay for more, he wanted to —, he wanted to—”

One hand of his cupped your cheek, golden claw gently tracing over your jaw. Even with him crouched down in front of you, he seemed ridiculously tall. “Hey—, relax, sweetheart.” At an exhale, red smoke coiled around you, assaulting your senses. Instinctively, your raised shoulders fell as tension bled from your muscles. “I get it. I understand.”

With how utterly merciless Valentino was known to be, it took a few moments for you to actually understand the meaning of his words. Even then, you barely dared to let go of the dreadful fear curled in your stomach. “You do?”

“Of course I do”, he said, eyes half-lidded behind heart-shaped glasses. His voice was soft enough to cause more tears, now of relief, to drip down your cheeks. “You know, I was really surprised when that patron came up to me, demanding to have you fired, if not killed for your disobedience. You're usually such an obedient girl — I was wondering what actually happened. Good job for being honest with me.”

Hope bloomed in your chest, your eyes widening. Streaks of mascara and eyeshadow, black and colourful, ran down your wet cheeks. “So you're not upset with me?”

“Upset with you? Of course not, amorcito. You were scared, that's alright. It happens, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Your breath hitched in a stifled sob, lips, the gloss now smudged, curling up into a pitiful mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Thank you, Val.”

This could have gone much worse. Your hands were still shaking, anxiety thrumming underneath your skin, and yet Valentino didn't even seem particularly upset. Some higher being — whether that was Lucifer or God, you didn't really care — must have blessed you, somehow.

“Of course, baby.” The moment Valentino stood once more, he towered over you, his shadow swallowing you up. “Now, follow me, yeah?”

Your legs struggled to support your weight, knees feeling weak as you trailed behind him through corridors you didn't recognise. Your steps were unsure, the heels, ridiculously high, only adding to your troubles. You have half a mind to stop yourself from asking where you're going.

It's entirely unnecessary, either way.

You arrive but a moment later, the noise of a heavy door falling shut causing you to flinch; where Valentino was in front of you just a second ago, he was now behind you, a looming presence at your back.

It was a studio; not the fancy kind actual stars like Angel Dust filmed in, but a smaller one, the light bulb flickering, the sheets on the bed stained. Voxtech cameras were pointed at the mattress.

“Val—?”

“Bend over, baby.”

“You said you're not angry with me.” The words tumbled out of your mouth without your permission, a panicked high-pitched tone. “You said you're not—”

“And I'm not, as long as you hurry the fuck up and do what I tell you to.” His voice was sharp. Instinctively, you obeyed, bending over the edge of the bed, nausea churning in your stomach. “See, that guy you were a bitch to was a regular. Good money. I gotta show him you're sorry, sweetheart. You understand that, right?”

For a moment, you didn't get a word out, throat tight as tears spilled past your lashes. Eventually, you managed a shaky; “Yes, Valentino.”

“There we go. Knew you'd get why I have to do this.”

Large hands settled on your thighs, the touch making you flinch; his claws, all too sharp, teased at your skin, leaving faint scratch marks, before they prodded at your folds.

This, by now, should have been routine. It was; and yet, the idea of this being a punishment had you tensing, muscles locking up while Valentino thrust one claw into you, only to grunt, irritated.

“Ungrateful bitch”, he spat, one hand settling on your lower back, pinning you to the bed while another fumbled with his belt, metal clinking. “That's what I get for tryin' to be nice and preparing you — tightest cunt I've ever seen. Loosen the fuck up or deal with it.”

“I'm sorry.” Your voice shook, though the threat of violence, of pain, didn't help with relaxing in the slightest. Instead, you instinctively clenched around the digit, only to whimper when he yanked it back out.

“Sure doesn't seem like it.”

The fat head of his cock, pierced, the metal cold, pressed against you, then pushed inside; you were unable to stop yourself from letting out a pitiful noise, sounding more like a wounded animal than a practiced porn star.

Valentino didn't seem to mind it one bit.

Your vision blackened out for a moment when he bottomed out inside of you, the pain agonising. For a moment, you were certain he was tearing you from the inside out. His hips slapped against your plush ones, building up a steady rhythm; one set of his hands grabbed onto your hips, claws digging into your skin, using his grip for leverage to pull you back against him

“Some wetness would help us out here, y'know”, Valentino mumbled, complaining, bitching, like this was your fault. It probably was.

The only response you were able to come up with was a choked out sob, a dull ache steadily present in your abdomen, only interrupted by sharp stabbing pain whenever Valentino's tip hit an impossibly deep spot inside of you.

This couldn't have possibly gotten worse — or so you thought, tears dripping down your face, your claws ripping the sheets as you scrambled for purchase, only for it to get so much more agonising when, all of a sudden, his hand closed around your throat, squeezing.

You weren't able to breathe.

Instinctively, you clenched around him, thighs shaking. If he wasn't still holding you up, you would have collapsed.

“Fuck, you're so damn tight.” Valentino groaned, low and raspy. His tongue lapped at your neck, leaving trails of pink saliva to drip down your shoulders, your chest. “We could've had such a pleasant time together, baby, if only you hadn't been such a disobedient slut. Hate that you're making me do this.”

His pace was unforgiving, the metal of his belt buckle hitting your hip with every other thrust, surely leaving bruises. Not that it mattered — Valentino did provide you with full coverage makeup, after all.

Out of the corner of your eye, you focused on the red dots of the many cameras, blinking, recording. By now, numbness spread through you, a small blessing. You weren't certain just how long it went on; only that, eventually, Valentino came with a groan, filling you up, making you whimper.

When his grip on your throat loosened for a split second, allowing you to suck a burning breath into your lungs, it felt like Heaven.

“Use your words, baby. Talk to me.”

“Val, 'm sorry—”

“Yeah?”

“I'm sorry”, you repeated, the words barely audible through sobs, “I'm sorry, Val, I'm sorry—”

Suddenly, his hand, still on your throat, yanked your head up, his lips clashing against yours; the very moment you opened your mouth, pliant with submission, with exhaustion, smoke flooded it, you choking on it.

Your mind felt muddled, mouth dry even as saliva trickled out of your lips, jaw slack.

Faintly, you were able to feel his cum drip out of your cunt and down your thighs, sticky.

“Now”, Valentino said, voice a sultry purr, “Why don't you wait here, I'll send you your client and you apologise properly to him?”

Mind filled with scarlet plumes, you barely knew what you were agreeing to, nodding mindlessly. “Yes, Valentino.”

“That's what I like to hear. Good girl.”

When multiple pairs of footsteps echoed through the room, you, even in your hazy state, had the bad feeling that you were going to be having a long night.

i won't lie i didn't proofread this yet.. tomorrow... ALSO FIRST POST YIPPEEE

[ellecdc]

Can we get a James potter pregnancy fic like the moon water one? I just on ow he’d be so sweet and doting and wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

it's so true though - he would be a master coddler, & sorry to leave you waiting since April, this fic gave me a run for my money 🥺

James Potter x pregnant wife!reader who interrupts game night

CW: mentions of pregnancy, gambling?

Sirius was not too proud to admit that he felt immediately guilty when he realised the mistake he had made.

As you got further along in your pregnancy, James had become increasingly less inclined to leave your side for any extended amount of time.

It got to the point that James actually took a leave of absence from work, and was now debating whether or not he’d ever go back once the baby was born. 

Remus, Sirius, and Peter all had bets on how long that was going to last, knowing how…involved James could be, not withstanding the potential pregnancy hormone related fits of anger and exhaustion. 

So, this week's game night (and likely every remaining one until perhaps your child went to Hogwarts) was being hosted at James’.

“Sorry boys, I just don’t want to risk not being here in case she needs anything, you know?” He had said. 

And they did know; and quite frankly, Sirius was looking forward to not having to clean up after his sodding friends, so there were no complaints from him or Moony. And your place was closer to Peter’s flat, so he was happy for an excuse to take an evening stroll.

So when the four friends were sitting around a circular dining table, bickering over whose turn it was in their game of muggle poker and you were - what was only now very clear to Sirius - tiptoeing down the stairs of your townhouse, Sirius really shouldn’t have made your presence known. 

“What are you doing up?” James asked as he quickly dropped his cards - face down, dammit - onto the table to make his way over to you after being alerted to your presence by Sirius’ traitorous smile and wave.

“I just wanted a snack, Jamie.” You admitted, half bashful and half frustrated at the fussing, though you accepted James' embrace willingly.

Sirius thought the hug looked awkward, seeing as how the two of you needed to leave so much room for your belly. 

“You should’ve told me, angel; I would have gotten it for you.” He chided gently as he ushered you (forced you) into his seat with a gentle hand on your back.

You smiled apologetically at the boys as you sat in James’ seat with only a small groan and a hand on your belly.

“Sorry, Trouble.” Sirius apologised quickly. But you - the sweet ‘angel’ that you were - simply waved him off. 

“Even if I had made it to the kitchen, he would have heard me rummaging in the fridge.” You said simply, picking up James’ cards and reorganising them.

“Has he got anything good?” Peter asked quickly, causing you to shake your head no before putting the cards back down.

“Damn sod’s been bluffing; he was always such a terrible liar at Hogwarts when he was the lookout for our pranks, how on earth can he bluff?” Remus asked incredulously as he dropped his own hand down on the table (face down, damnit). 

“He’s not bluffing; I don’t think he has a clue how to play this game.” You explained simply.

“You should come to all of our game nights.” Sirius chuckled as he gently nudged your arm with his elbow. 

You chuckled and looked towards the kitchen. “The point of gamenights was for you four to get together, and for me to have a quiet house.”

“Please.” James called as he made his way out of the kitchen with a tray of various treats in one hand and a large cup of ice water in the other. “You gave up having a quiet house the second you said ‘I do’.” 

You accepted a loving kiss to your temple as he handed the cup of water to you and placed the tray in front of you on top of his cards. 

If Sirius didn’t get a peak at someone’s cards really fucking soon-

“How many more weeks do you have?” Remus asked you then; probably a polite thing to ask a pregnant couple but Sirius was a little preoccupied wondering if there was an X-ray vision spell he could use to see through Peter’s cards. 

“Too many.” You responded as James offered a jovial “It’s gone by so quickly!” 

“Jamie, I really don’t think you get to say that.” You admonished him, though Sirius could tell the furrow of your brows was all for show. 

“What? Why? I feel like this pregnancy has just flown by!” 

“Oh, well I’m very glad you feel that way.” You sneered. “But you’re not the one who had to stretch and grow and carry around a bowling ball.”

Sirius felt himself swallow nervously in James’ honour, but the dumb sod simply beamed at you lovingly and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s because you’ve done it so beautifully, angel; you made it look easy.”

And damn James and his smoothness; he had even Sirius blushing.  

“Alright, I’m in.” Remus announced then as he pushed a pile of chips towards the centre of the table.

“Me too.” Peter agreed as he followed in suit.

Sirius felt like he was grasping at billywigs, but he felt he had a better chance than James, so he, too, bet a couple of chips. 

“What say you, Prongs?” Peter asked then.

James turned back to the game, looking surprised as if he’d forgotten they’d been playing at all.

“Oh, I fold.” He said simply.

“What!?” Sirius screeched as he threw his cards down on the table. 

Remus made an exasperated groaning sound as he also placed his cards face up.

“Yeah, I had nothing.” James responded with a casual shrug.

“Nice.” Peter murmured quietly as he took in the state of Remus and Sirius’ cards before placing his own down on the table and pulling the chips towards himself.

“For fucks sake!” Sirius shouted.

“Pads! Little ears!” James chided.

“Are they even fully developed yet?” Sirius muttered back, earning him a swat up the back of the head from his boyfriend. 

“Oh yes.” You said solemnly. “Babe has been very active everytime Uncle Pads talks.”

Sirius paused in his tussle with Moony to whip his head towards you. “Really!?”

You smiled and nodded, holding your hand out for his which he took willingly and allowed you to place it to a particularly hard spot on your stomach.

“Say something.” You instructed.

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good!” He chanted, the end of his sentence rising an octave (or two, if you asked Moony) when he felt a little kick right underneath his hand. “Oh my godric!”

“I wanna feel.” Remus murmured as he reached over his boyfriend to swap places.

“Mischief managed.” Sirius continued, feeling the slight jump of excitement in Remus’ body at the movement he obviously felt beneath his hand. 

“Oh gods, you’re gonna have a trouble maker.” Peter remarked with a shake of his head, though his smile let you know the comment was made in jest. 

“Oh, there was never any doubt about that, considering who the father is.” You quipped back, smiling lovingly up at James who simply beamed down at you in turn. 

“Well, I’ll get out of your hair, boys.” You said as you made to stand. “Let you get back to your games.” 

Your sentence was met with a round of dissent. 

“No, no mama. We’ll leave.” Sirius argued as he too stood. 

“What? Why are we leaving!?” Pete asked then.

“Peter, you already took all our money, leave the expecting parents to their evening, yeah?” Remus reprimanded, causing the three of them to look over only to see James blanketed over you from behind with both of his hands resting on your stomach as he murmured softly into your ear.

Your eyes were closed as you allowed James to rock the two of you back and forth with a soft smile spread across your face. 

“Come on Petey, we’re officially intruding.” Sirius added as he tossed another chip at his friend. “Take this for the road - I’ll be winning it all back at our next game night.”

[hazelfoureyes]

The Safeword is RadioApple (part 1)

I’m gonna go ahead and apologize right now

Lucifer x FemaleReader x Alastor

Part 1 ꒰აMaleReader✧FemaleReader໒꒱ Part 2 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱ Part 3 ꒰აAlastorxLucifer໒꒱ tidbit (cute, not smut) Part 4 ꒰აFemaleReader໒꒱✨NEW✨ ₊⊹⁀➴ Lucifer wins���Alastor Wins

Alastor would give you anything, all you had to do was ask. When you asked for Lucifer, he delivered. But after seeing just how much you enjoyed Alastor’s rough handling, Lucifer takes a turn and gets a little lost in the pleasure.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, Lucifer x Reader, smut, RadioApple in a sense, fem reader, creampie, breath play, rough sex, Alastor is an eternal little shit, soft jazz, hard jazz, Luci calls himself Daddy, 🗣️ READER GETS SPITROASTED, threesome, cervix hulk smashed, half assed blowjob, help I got too horny on main

Minors dni

“Sir.”

Lucifer jumped, whipping around and shoving Alastor’s face away. “You are a living nightmare, fuck!” He hated being snuck up on, as most people do. Adjusting his hat, he looked around the hotel lobby to see if anyone else witnessed his personal jump scare. Charlie and Vaggie were seated nearby, but hadn’t paid them any attention.

“I aim to please! Now,” Alastor gestured to the stairs, “I, unfortunately, need to show you something upstairs.”

“Ha!” Lucifer forced out a laugh, “Ha. Haaa- Not a chance, scarecrow. Find someone else to search for your brain.” He smirked to himself. “Did you hear that Charlie? I made a joke.”

But Charlie was not laughing. She finally turned her focus to them. “Dad, you have to start trying to get along with Alastor.” She looked to Alastor who was nodding along as if he actually cared at all, “He’s trying to spend time with you. Come on, Dad. For me?”

With a pout, he dramatically crossed his arms, “Fine. I’ll play nice, for you. Not for him.” Lucifer glared daggers at Alastor. “Fuck him.”

“Daaad!” She groaned.

“Yeah yeah, I’m going.” 

Alastor let his microphone follow behind Lucifer’s back, an unseen and unfelt safety net so he couldn’t back out. When they approached Alastor’s door, Lucifer put up his hands as if to physically stop the situation from progressing, “There is no way in all of hell I am going in your bedroom.”

Alastor’s eyes rolled, frustrated already with the interaction. “Are you sure about that?” He pushed the door open, using his mic to make contact with the small of Lucifer’s back. He stopped resisting when he finally looked into the room.

He took a step in, willingly, and as he saw you sitting in the center of the bed in just your silk sleep robe, he let out a quiet, “What the fuck is this?”

Then a louder, “Heeey, kitten…”. The sound of the door locking made his head whip back to Alastor, teeth bared.

“Luci.”

Softened under the sound of his own name from your lips he brought his attention back to the bed.

It was no secret to anyone that you two were fond of each other. It was the little things you did that endeared the fallen angel to you, how you doted on him. Filling his glass at dinner when you noticed it getting close to empty, holding the door for him, keeping eye contact when he went off on some excited tangent.

Everyone was also aware you were Alastor’s person. And Alastor would give you anything you wanted in death; and today you happened to want Luci.

You’d seen the broadcasts of the King of Hell defending his daughter during the last extermination. The power he gave off, even from your screen, brought goosebumps down your arms. So when you found your way to the hotel, you were elated to see Lucifer himself readily available for interactions. Your luck continued, as your father’s love of jazz had been passed down to you and allowed the radio demon to notice your presence among the sea of new residents. Following the sounds of Nat ‘King’ Cole, he found you one evening in your room, and a mutual fondness for music bore a new friend. And then, more. 

Soon enough you were a regular member of the Hazbin Hotel core crew, by way of Alastor.

That’d been some months ago now, and you finally had the courage to ask Alastor for a special favor.

No part of him understood your motivation, but the idea of making the king of hell pussy-whipped to his darling was understanding enough. And, of course, the pleasure of watching you enjoy yourself. While he was capable all his own, he was happy to allow someone else to fill in. Not to mention—- no, actually, definitely mention the fact it would give him a little more power in the tense dynamic between himself and Lucifer.

For Alastor, sharing you physically wasn’t an issue. Sex was something he did for your pleasure, though he did enjoy the control he held over you in those intimate moments.

Watching you mewl under someone else, knowing he gave the permission, that Lucifer would never have a chance in Hell if The Radio Demon didn't allow it, made his head dizzy with the loss of blood flow. Whatever pleasure Lucifer could give you was pleasure he has granted you both. The idea of someone pining for you but never having a chance unless he says so made him feel powerful.

“I have a request, of sorts.” You tried to keep your smile still, cheeks twitching with pure nerves. The room was lit by only two small lamps on either nightstand and the light coming from the half open bathroom.

Lucifer approached you, making a dramatic point of going past Alastor. The radio demon chuckled, the king of hell scowled. He placed one knee on the end of the bed, trying to forget this was the spot you shared most nights with Alastor. His smile encouraged you to continue.

“You can say no.” You added quickly. 

“Why would I ever do that?” Lucifer continued to smile at you, too sweetly for what you were going to ask.

“Many reasons.” You added quicker. 

“Come on, tell Luci.” He laughed softly at the idea of denying you anything.

You pressed the tips of your index fingers together nervously, “I want you to fuck me.”

He tried to blink but his eyelids only seemed to rise further and further up his face with every attempt.

“You what now?”

His eyes darted to Alastor, who was now crawling onto the bed and settling behind you. 

“It was a fairly straightforward statement, sir.” Alastor’s tone was always teetering on mocking when he addressed Lucifer, “My dear would like you, for some god awful reason, to bed her.”

If this hadn’t been such a shock, Lucifer would have quipped, “Oh because you can’t, you overdressed maitre d’?”

But when he opened his mouth, there was nothing. He just stared at you. Alastor’s long legs and lanky arms came down beside you, behind you. You looked like the enticing light of an angler fish’s lure, sharp teeth shining just over your shoulder. 

“I thought-,” he motioned between the two of you.

You nodded, “Alastor is happy when I’m happy. And right now, I’d be overjoyed to spend an evening taking care of you.”

Oh, why couldn’t you have said it so sweetly the first time? Take care of him? You always did. Every time he felt something lacking he’d find you close behind offering him just the thing.

Whether a smile, or supportive word, or just a sympathetic ear.

Shifting onto your hands and knees, you crawled toward Lucifer. His face was flush, his brows knitted together in some mix of worry and confusion.

“You don’t have to do that, kitten. I don’t need that.” He reached out a hand to touch your cheek but stopped himself; he’d never touched you before. He had gone out of his way to avoid it, because he couldn’t bear what it would do to him. He’d just be hurting himself, he had thought. His hand began to pull away but you reached out with both of yours and took hold of his wrist.

“I don’t have to do anything, ever, Luci,” Alastor’s grin widened as you said it. A hum of approval only he could hear. A silent, ‘That’s my girl.’

“This is about what I want.” You leaned up to rest your cheek in his open palm, “I’ll accept any answer from you.” Your eyes staring up at him promised safety, “So, what do you want?”

He buried his face in his free hand, opening his fingers to look over you once more. In the shade of the canopied bed, Alastor sat motionless. But Lucifer couldn’t see him, not because of the shadows but because his focus was so purely on you. He had absolute tunnel vision, which happened often when you two would speak. Lucifer made a low sound, coming from somewhere deep in his chest,  hidden beneath all his shame and sense of inadequacy.

Your question was answered as he removed his hat, tossing it to the chaise lounge near the wall. You sat back on your legs and gave him space to remove his coat. Your heart seemed to double its pace, skin practically vibrating. A not-insignificant part of you expected a gentle but firm, “kindly fuck off.”

He seemed to be avoiding eye contact as he pulled his bow tie loose, only returning his knee to the bed when he’d kicked off his boots. Just the shifting of the weight of the bed made your thighs twitch, finally. Alastor leaned backed and watched, Lucifer’s gaze was full of uncertainty as he crawled to you. 

Hilarious. Already worth the price of admission. 

Both on your knees, you leaned up and placed a chaste kiss on Lucifer’s lips. Pulling back, you looked at him and he felt like we’re looking at the sun. Your face was so bright, and warm. What light were you reflecting back at him? Surely not his own. That was long dead. Long buried under bruised wings and lost promises. 

You snaked your fingers into his hair and brought him in for a deeper kiss. When you bit gently on his bottom lip, he shakily opened his mouth. Your grin spread across both of your faces as you pushed your way past his lips.

Lucifer’s tongue was long, and tapered more than you’d expected. It moved, unsure, against yours. Your hands slunk out of his hair and down his chest, sliding until finding the buttons of his vest. 

You felt him gasp into you, and when you began to open his shirt he pulled away, “It’s been… a very long time.”

A scream echoed in your skulll, your own scream, thankfully entirely in your mind. He was so cute. So soft. He looked so worried, you wanted to rip him to pieces with affection. Was that possible? You were going to try.

Your hands fumbled over his belt, the tremble in your fingers making the pants button feel like an aptitude test. Your mouth returned to him, kissing down his cheeks and into the space under his jaw. Finally you could slip your hand down into his pants, and you hissed without thinking.

He was painfully hard, throbbing head pressed into his skin. 

Did you do this? Had you gotten the King like this with just a question and a kiss? Tip nearly purple with pressure, you rested your forehead on his collarbone and watched his stomach jump as you wrapped your fingers around it.

Alastor fought back a laugh, tongue nearly cut clean off with the attempt. This was better than he had expected. And he had just the idea to push it over the top.

When your head dipped to swipe your tongue over Lucifer’s cock, you both startled at the sudden sound of music. First you looked to the radio, then to Alastor.

One hand was loosening his bow tie, the other unbuckling his pants. 

“Don’t stop on my accord,” he bit his bottom lip, watching your attention return to Lucifer’s lap.

Lucifer raised a finger in protest, “I wasn’t aware this was a group activity.”

“The more the merrier.” Alastor whipped his belt off and tossed it to the floor, other hand pulling his member free.

“Three’s a crowd.” 

“Two heads are better than one.” When Alastor lifted your robe away and sunk himself into you, no preparation, you moaned into the blonde hair at the base of Lucifer’s cock.

Your breath over his shaft and now down his balls made his hips buck against you. Your hands gripped at Lucifer’s thighs, trying to get steady enough to return your mouth to his waiting heat. You could smell his arousal, your head dizzy with so many of your senses being assaulted by both men. 

“You okay, kitten?” A concerned hand came to your cheek. 

Your watery, lust clouded eyes met his, “It feels so good, Luci.” His dick jerked. When you finally managed to get him in your mouth his head fell back, legs under him twitching with the need to move along to the bobbing of your head. Lucifer was wider than Alastor, the corners of your mouth burning as you tried to take in as much of him as possible. 

Alastor’s hand raked long nails down your back, a whine ran from your throat and down Lucifer’s shaft.  He moaned in turn, trying to not connect the dots between himself and Alastor.

“I think you may need a little demonstration, from someone more–, “ Alastor leaned down, his face now inches from Lucifer’s. His hand wrapped around your neck, “experienced.” He pulled you up by your throat.

Lucifer watched, your knees no longer touching the bed as Alastor fucked up into you. One hand gripping your throat, one arm holding your body against his. Your face began to redden, and your thighs noticeably clenching as best they could, legs open and feet on either side of Alastor’s body. Lucifer winced, you looked pained, he wanted—

“Aa--Alastor,” Your voice was like honey, thick and sweet around Alastor’s name. Lucifer’s face fell flat, how could he have that? What did he need to do to have you say his name in such a debauched way? Why did that gangly sack of bones get all of the fun?

“See? She can handle more than you’d expect.” Alastor grinned, planting a kiss on your neck. You could see Lucifer watching through your wet eyelashes, his cock twitching repeatedly as his hand finally came down to touch himself. 

With the hand not holding onto Alastor’s wrist at your throat, you reached out for Lucifer. “Luci.” 

Alastor let you fall forward. Keeping your hips in the air and knees dangling just above the comforter, he continued his rough pace into your sopping cunt. Pulling your body on and off of his length with harsh drags he watched you lick from the base to the top of Lucifer’s member. Each thrust from him knocking your chin against it. 

When you popped the head back into your mouth and moaned around it from Alastor’s continued fucking, Lucifer gripped your hair with both hands. Alastor’s own erection jumped in you, the king of hell himself buckling from his dearest’s mouth. He could break him entirely by just pulling you off of Lucifer’s cock and refusing to return you. He was positive Lucifer would cry into his ruined orgasm if he did such a thing.

Tempting.

But, he promised to play along, for you. And he would, at his own terms. 

He pushed aside the thought entirely, instead returning to the task in front of him. Your tongue was pinned down when Lucifer was in your mouth, cock too fat to allow any room for movement. You abandoned trying to suck him off, and changed tactics to lick and kiss the sensitive flesh in your hands. 

Lucifer’s mind was—- he wasn't sure where exactly. His consciousness splintered around you. The feeling of you; your tongue was swirling around him, the first contact he’s had other than himself in literal years. The sound of you; your soft moans and huffs were both audible and physical, the hot breath ghosting over him. The sight of you; head in his lap as he leaned back, your ass in the air and making a satisfying slapping noise every time– 

Alastor. His eyes met Lucifer’s and a wicked grin took hold of his features. Lucifer could practically hear Alastor whisper across your body, ‘Watch this.’ Maybe Alastor had thought it, but he kept it to himself. 

Your hands began pumping Lucifer’s length while your body was slightly dragged away as Alastor backed up and let your knees find some solid ground again. 

Lucifer sat on his legs still, eyes flitting from between your face to the place you and Alastor connected. He could see Alastor disappearing inside you, and every intrusion had you gasping and mewling into the blankets. Your hand was still gently stroking him with outstretched arms, eyes clenched close.

Alastor smirked up at Lucifer, coming down over your back to reach around your body and find your clit with his middle finger. Immediately, you reacted. Legs squeezing together, hands stilling around your king’s cock. With a bite and lick to your shoulder blade, the radio demon set a bruising pace against you. That warmth in your core was spreading down as you felt him press against your cervix with every kiss of his hips. 

You choked out his name, a chant Lucifer had never wanted to hear before now. How could you make Alastor’s name sound so delicious? He wrapped his fingers around yours on his dick and began moving with you. Your eyes rolled up to him, a weak smile forming before your orgasm made your jaw lock. Alastor knew your body so well, bringing you to orgasm was like playing a well practiced song on the piano. Both required strong and fast fingers and a sense of rhythm. 

With a few more deeper, shorter moves Alastor stilled, too. Your knees slid down as your hips sank into the bed. 

Lucifer let your hand go limp, swallowing hard. He wasn’t ignorant to the way Alastor smiled at him as he reclined into the headboard, tucking himself back into his pants. 

“I have complete faith in you, for once.” Alastor teased Lucifer, hand motioning to your still limp body. His smile seemed to dare Lucifer, challenge him, to keep going even with Alastor’s release sitting pretty in you. 

Luci took a deep breath, steadying himself mentally, before pushing the hair from your forehead, “Hey there, kitten. What do ya need?”

With an uncharacteristic hunger in your eyes, you forced your line of sight up to him, “You, Luci.” Visibly shuddering, you sat up and brought your legs towards him, your knees touching each other in an odd display of shyness. Your hand felt at your entrance, Alastor’s seed just beginning to find its way from your relaxed walls. 

“Is it okay?” You asked, spreading the thick fluid between your fingers in front of Luci. 

Something between a grimace and a pout came over him, it wasn’t his ideal situation but the idea of — just how much he’d slip and slide between your folds with the added lubrication made him feel feral. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Alastor hoped to ruin you and sour his experience. He decided to not allow it. 

With a kiss to his nose, you wrapped your arms around his neck and lied back. You weren’t sure you were breathing anymore when you felt his scorching head slot up with your entrance. He rubbed the leaking fluid over himself and you with swipes up and down your lips. The difference between his heat and the cooled cum made him shiver in turn. 

As he began to press into you, your body instinctively scooted away. It took both of your hands hooked under his arms to stay still enough for him to make any real headway. 

Luci stopped, your face clearly pained. Your head shook in response, “Please, you just have to keep going. I’ll adjust.” While both of his heads swelled with pride – Alastor’s cock clearly smaller – Luci didn’t notice the wild eyes of the radio demon. 

Alastor brought a hand to his face, red eyes peering between his spread fingers, smile threatening to break at the seams as he watched Lucifer Morningstar fucking his cum into his darling doe. 

 What a pitiful sight. How humiliating.

What would Charlie think of her big bad daddy? What would the other sins say? If they could see their king now, slick and shiny?

Your nails cut into his skin, and you were sure you were tearing slightly. Instead of attempting to thrust his way in, he chose to just continually press. The way your body seemed to be splitting made you second guess your decisions. But when his head finally popped in, your hole got some reprieve. He stopped, taking deep breaths. 

Tears were collecting on your waterline, Luci noticed and leaned on an elbow to wipe them away. His blonde hair was falling forward now, tickling at your forehead. 

You nodded, answering a question he didn’t ask, and he continued to force your walls open to accommodate him. The only sound in the room was the soft instrumental jazz number playing from atop the dresser. Your voice was stuck in your throat, Luci was focusing too hard to form words. Alastor could speak, but the music was just too enjoyable to interrupt. 

Finally, after what could have been two minutes or twenty, you felt Luci bottom out. You had to just lie there for a second, never having felt something so solid in your otherwise soft body. No slight to Alastor, who was perfectly skilled in his abilities. Luci was just—- more than you had expected. 

As he pulled out, you thanked the heavens and hell and the rings within that Alastor had left you so wet and already softened. The first few thrusts were genuinely uncomfortable, the pleasure you felt almost entirely mental, drawn from the reality of who was pulling your insides back and forth. You were so tight around him that he too was almost pained; so much pressure but no way to move enough to get any release.

Slowly, the ring of your entrance relented and Luci could finally move at a normal pace. He would take himself out to his head before slipping back in. Every thrust made your body spread around him, a semi-truck through a field of sunflowers. Your body didn’t stand a chance, and you were grateful he chose gentleness for his entrance.

He leaned back on both hands, using the position to fucked up into you at an angle. He knew very well where to hit to begin gathering your pleasure.

Alastor dropped his head, yours between his legs. His hair made a short curtain, hiding the look he was giving you from Luci. He adores the faces you make when you are happy. Excited. Pleasured. You tried to offer him a smile, but you couldn’t manage it for long. Your eyes would wretch shut, lips tighten as you focused on the feeling Luci was providing. Focused on the sensations, of being so full, so wet, so wanted. But Alastor was still watching, the sight of Luci blocked from his view as he enjoyed every little twitch of your mouth, every whimper. 

It wasn’t jealousy, it was something more personal that stung Luci. While he couldn’t actually discern the looks you two gave each other, Luci felt very much the odd man out. But, he considered his position. Literally. He was leaning as far from your body as he could. He remembered the way you said Alastor’s name. Alastor had showed him exactly what to do, albeit in his usual obnoxious, showy fashion.

Sitting up, Luci adjusted your legs and slotted himself between them. Alastor leaned back, relinquishing your focus. Both of you looked at Luci though as one of his hands came to enclose your throat.

Alastor was almost impressed. Almost. You brought both hands to wrap around his wrist, glancing to Alastor behind you.

The words came out of Alastor as half warning, half instruction, “If she needs you to stop, she’ll tap two fingers twice on you, wherever she can reach.” Lucifer nodded, eyes not meeting Alastor’s. He kept them on your face, watching for any sign of distress as he tightened his grip. The way your pussy clenched around him earned you a hiss.

He began to move again, the new position causing him to rub against your clit as he buried himself in you. More clenching; He tightened his grip more. 

“Are you sure she isn’t hurting?” Luci asked, your eyes closed and nails digging into his wrists.

“Nonsense. Can’t you feel her? Or does she just grip me like that?” The cocky expression made Luci unconsciously clench his fist on your neck. A gentle tap tap snapped him back to you. He loosened up again, his eyes large and apologetic.

You tightened your own grip on his dick, grinding up into him for more friction. Your body had finally relaxed, pleasure freely flowing from where you and Luci tangled together. You closed your eyes, the pressure constant on the veins to your head. Blood flow restricted just enough to lower your oxygen levels and raise the nitrogen oxide in your body. It resulted in a dizzying feeling, maybe there was a primal panic that caused your body to feel heightened pleasure. You didn’t feel scared, or in danger. You felt —— ah there it was. You felt weak. You felt docile. You felt like you existed purely to give pleasure and the idea turned you on. In every day life you’d never allow someone to use you, to push you around. You were anything but subservient. That’s why it was so enthralling now. It was so strange a sensation. And to give yourself so fully to the king of hell, the originator of all sin? You groaned, head rolling back. 

Luci watched your head loll, drank in your groans and gasps and felt himself get dizzy too. More. Say his name like you did Alastor’s. Praise how well he fucked you. Reward him. Love him.

He pulled out suddenly, his head leaving you for the first time since it managed to fit in initially. Luci put both hands on your hips and directed you to roll onto your stomach. He pulled your ass up, knees bent. You crawled up enough to rest your forehead on the crook of Alastor’s leg, one lazily outstretched and the other bent under him slightly. Luci wasted no time pushing back in. He leaned over you and pressed his hand into your back, forcing your chest to be slightly crushed into the bed. He pulled out and slammed back into you, tearing a yelp from you as he hit deeper than he had before. 

He stopped, unsure, until he felt your hand reach under yourself and rest at the junction of his knee and calf. His other hand came to your right hip, and he used it to keep you from sliding up the bed. Letting his eyes close again, he focused on the feeling of you around him. His crotch and thighs were soaking wet, his balls tight against him. Every drag out of you made his body jerk back into you with need. It felt so good, too good. He needed more. He pressed hard into you, oversized tip of his cock threatening to push past your cervix. He made shorter thrusts now, ensuring he bottomed out every time. It was too deep, too much of a stretch. Your moans slowly devolved into screams, the pleasure mixed with a soft burning. 

You could feel him spreading open your womb. The feeling of your cunt pressing down on him from all sides including the front was driving him mad.

You were screaming. Actual, pleasured screams, threatening to alert the entire hotel to your activities. Screams that started shrill and dipped into a gutteral cry filled the room with every thrust of Lucifer’s frenzied hips.

A tiny part of your brain felt embarrassed, a dying animal shrieking into Alastor’s thigh.

An ever shrinking part of Lucifer existed too, the piece of him too preoccupied with your two fingers on his leg to enjoy you. It got smaller and smaller, no longer a blockade to his pleasure, but a safety net allowing him to walk the tightrope of sadism.

The radio’s volume dial rolled, smooth jazz now blaring and drowning out your painfully pleasured cries. Alastor was fine with allowing someone to take care of your needs at his permission but strangers had no business enjoying your sounds.

As Luci became lost in the sensation of your wet pussy trying to suck him in whole, his hand on your back began to press down. Your breaths got shorter, it got harder to expand your lungs fully.

Face turned and drooling onto the fabric of Alastor’s pants, you started gasping out his name, “Luci! Nngh Luciiii, Lucifer.”

Your lips dropped his name and it fell like lead into his thoughts. He fought the urge to close his eyes again as he felt his orgasm building. He watched your flushed skin jump beneath every punishing thrust, his name a spell you could now barely whisper, not enough breathe to scream. Your upper body was entirely buried into the mattress. It felt like your back might snap with Luci’s loss of control. You kept your hand on his leg, ever ready to tap out.

The yellow of his eyes turned red, just like the skin of your ass where his hip bones chaffed. “You take me so well, kitten.” He ground out, “Daddy’s gonna cum.”

Alastor’s eyes glowed a blood red from the end of the bed, a wickedly devious grin across his face at the opportunity before him, he looked up at Luci and said with a commanding tone, “Cum.”

Luci was already over that peak when his eyes flew up to catch Alastor’s, it was too late to stop his orgasm. He was helpless to disobey, despite his now desperate desire to never cum again. With a moan, and a hiss, he pressed your body fully into the mattress. Your body now flush, he waited until his cock stopped jerking his long overdue seed into your bruised womb.

Luci lied on top of you even after you were full to the brim with his cum. It was already forcing its way out around his softening cock when he managed to roll off of you and onto his back.

Staring at the canopy of the bed, he felt two emotions rise to the surface. First, concern. He turned to you, and you gave a weak thumbs up.

Second, rage.

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you? Fuck you.” He looked to Alastor, who was grinning as he pet your head, whispering something to you. 

“Little late for dirty talk, your highness.”

Lucifer growled, but Alastor’s palm pressed against his forehead and pushed him back down to the bed.

“I sleep on the left. I’d prefer you on the right.” he gently moved your head from his lap, “Beside me, my dear. A darling barrier.” Alastor didn’t look at Lucifer, just slid off the bed and walked into the en-suite bathroom. “No outside clothes under the comforter.” Alastor called from the bathroom before the sound of rushing water poured in.

You rolled onto your back, still catching your breath. Body sprawled out on the massive bed like a starfish.

Lucifer turned onto his side, hand caressing your arm. “Are you okay, kitten? I didn’t mean to lose myself like that.” He felt shame, like he had done something terrible. “And— I didn’t help you finish. That’s pretty shitty.”

But it fell away when you smiled back at him, “I feel great. Sore, but great all the same.” You let your fingers clumsily lace with his. “I really like you, Luci. And I don’t need to cum to enjoy myself. You can always try again, ya know?”

Lucifer felt his face grow warm, but couldn’t press you to clarify what exactly that meant before Alastor scooped you up and carried you to the bath.

There was a moment where he was alone, noticing the radio was back to a tolerable volume, the water splashing softly out of view. He felt out of place, like he had accidentally walked into a stranger’s home. He wasn’t sure what to do next, where to go from there when Alastor’s head popped back into the room, annoyed, “Are you coming or not? Those are clean sheets.”

༻Masterlist༺

[luminousdryad]

smth smth Joel's win has long been anticipated since his madness arc in Last Life where he was fighting to live mainly for himself with a fluctuating alliance with Scar, then in Double Life he finally had a teammate who would stay with him–albeit not out of their own choice–which meant at least he had something to fight for. "The ship burns, everything burns!" This time, he went mad because they destroyed the symbol of his relationship–something he built for Etho to prove he's a worthy partner, only for it to burn down just as if breaking him and Etho apart was that easy...and yet, they died together, burning together like their ship, and if you think about it, Joel must've thought the ship burning meant it was as fragile as their forced alliance...but even with his doubts, his hesitation, Etho stayed with him. His rage came from his insecurity, not merely out of loneliness.

Then in Limited Life he finally had real allies, people he'd willingly give up his life for (whereas in Double Life, he had to stay alive for his partner), even intending to sacrifice himself just to break Jimmy's curse. Jimmy's death broke him, drove him to insanity.

In Secret Life, he found himself allied with the people who were shunned when they turned red, and no one thought they'd make it–but they fought together til the end, him and Bdubs together, with Pearl fighting to secure them the win. His allies knew loneliness and desperation, the way it haunted them even with a newfound family. They tolerated each other's madness that way, a visceral understanding of how it feels to lose your mind as you fight and fight for an uncertain future while your former allies seem to turn against you.

Then came Wild Life. Joel has always been wild, driven by rage and an inclination for chaos. But this time, finally seeing how his previous antagonism caused him isolation, he decides that this season is about family. He'll antagonize no one, not even Scott. He never knew how to cope with his natural madness, but now, he made peace with it–with the help of Gem, someone equally unhinged but in control of herself, to ground him and pacify his anger when needed.

This time his violent tendencies didn't bring about his downfall, because this time, he was finally at peace with himself. He wasn't the desperate hunter chasing down victims. His tactic was to avoid and evade, let them chase him down this time, waiting for the time to strike. Gem's death, unlike Jimmy's, gave him the push he needed to focus. And with Scott out of the way, he is now secure in himself, fighting steadily even if he panics internally.

Before, he played the part of the hunter only to fall prey. Now, in becoming the prey, he became the hunter.

Make it wild, the final instruction said. But Joel has always been wild. To be wild is to be passionate, turbulent and volatile, and he has always been those things. But wild can also mean, "to deviate from the intended or expected course." People expected him to lose it and cause his own downfall again. People expected his aggression and explosiveness. They didn't expect him to be, for once, stable.

Joel has always been full of irony. He drives people away from him all while craving a sense of belongingness. He's one of the most violent, yet also one of the most loving. Now, he won Wild Life by being perfectly in sync with himself.

He didn't need to be the villain to be wild. His peace amidst the chaos was wild enough...and even Grian encouraged it. Grian, who has watched from a close distance, once even too close, how desperate Joel was. He saw the growth. And he decided, this time, "You know you could win this, Joel. It's your turn."

And win it he did.

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (3) II a.putellas x sister!reader

prequel one two

since you all wanted to be hurt so bad here is more angst! and for the sake of the broken and left behind younger sibling support club, a little comfort and some steps forward too - song i listened to when writing was we might be dead by tomorrow by Soko! filling the void (3) II a.putellas x sister!reader

after your outburst it worried eli to watch you retract into yourself, and for an entire week bar going to work you hardly left your room.

something out of character for someone like yourself who since your sisters decided they didn't want to spend time with you anymore, had thrown yourself head first into social activities with people who did.

you still saw your friends at work and when they drove you home or picked you up for a shift, but you had a variety of excuses to avoid the dinners or hang outs you were invited to outside of that, alarming not only eli but also your friends now.

your friends had all of course been filled in on the discourse of your apparent abandonment, having assured you time and time again that it wasn't your fault.

they spent time affirming to you that it was just an unfortunate side affect of the large age gap which wasn't something you had any control over. they all did their best to make you feel supported in your emotions whilst also encouraging you not give up on the relationship with your sisters entirely.

something that probably would have benefited both alexia and alba to know, at first feeling sorry for themselves after your outburst. this was then channeled into a disapproval for these new older friends you kept close.

guards went up from both of your sisters about how these strangers were trying to replace their space in your life, they were your older sisters not these new girls hanging around.

eli had all but banned alba and alexia from coming over throughout the week following your explosion at them, warning you needed space and time and that the more they pushed you the further away you'd pull, case in point your outburst in the first place which had spawned from both of them going at you too hard and too fast.

but when the weekend rolled around and still you made no move to leave the comfort of your bedroom or the family home eli decided maybe it was time she step in a little, unable to see any change in your antisocial behaviour unless she offered a somewhat forceful helping hand.

"hija." you looked up from a book your head was buried in with a raised eyebrow. "i am going to watch alexia's game soon." eli started as you noted she was dressed in a barcelona jersey with alexias name and number proudly on the back.

"okay." you nodded with a small frown of suspicion, unsure why she was really telling you this and sensing maybe there was more to it.

"you should come with me." the woman continued encouragingly with a warm smile. "are you asking me or telling me mami?" you questioned with a sigh making the older woman chuckle.

"telling. you have not left the house all week nena and i am worried about you." her voice softened the last few words as you sighed. "mami i'm fine! i am going to see my friends tomorrow night." you promised as she hummed.

"really? that is good then." eli smiled happily as you hummed. "sí, they said if i did not come willingly they would break in here and kidnap me, so i didn't really have a choice." you sighed making your mami chuckle.

"bien. now get dressed we leave in ten minutes!" eli clapped as you made a face. "wait i still have to come?" you asked with a small groan as she nodded. "sí, i was telling not asking." the woman smiled as you groaned again but snapped your book shut.

and sure enough ten minutes later you were following her out the door albeit begrudgingly, your airpods confiscated the moment you tried to put them in, deflating even further as you slid into the car.

"don't look so miserable fresa, watching one football match will not kill you." eli chuckled throwing the car into reverse as you sighed dramatically. "i could only dream of being so lucky." you mumbled sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

"why are we here?" you questioned a little anxiously as you recognized the street she turned down a little while later. "picking up your hermana, she is also coming." eli spoke with a slight air of caution, glancing to you as you frowned clearly a little lost in your thoughts.

"mi hija i know your sisters have really hurt you i am not dismissing that, and i will not push you any further then you are ready to when it comes to letting them fix it. but you are all still my daughters and i enjoy spending time with all of you, together." eli tried to put it as gently as she could as you sighed but nodded none the less.

when you didn't say anything further eli didn't prompt you to do so, waving at alba who locked up her place behind her and made her way to the car, surprise flickering clearly across her face seeing you sat in the front seat.

"hola mami." your sister slid into the back, leaning forward and kissing eli's cheek, contemplating for a brief second whether to greet you in the same way but thinking better of it and settling back in her seat.

"hi fr-hermana." alba was quick to catch herself, eli flashing her a small smile through the rear view mirror as you hummed and mumbled back a greeting, gaze trained out the window.

you zoned out of the conversation which followed the duration of the drive to the stadium, alba trying a couple of times to include you but when she only received one word replies she recognized that was likely doing more harm than good and ceased her efforts.

you stuck out a little once you all arrived, finding your seats in the friends and family section and you were one of the only spectators sat without a jersey on.

you of course had more than enough to choose from. as you grew up alexia had gifted you with countless jerseys both for spain and barcelona.

some she'd played in during important games and wanted you to have over anyone else, and some were just spares, getting most of your immediate family members the latest kits as soon as they dropped.

but when you'd stopped bothering to go to her games you had assumed this ceased. but unbeknownst to you alexia had a whole horde of jerseys at her home for you, but at her own fault barely having spent much time with you had disallowed her to be able to gift them to you.

so even though you could have easily worn a barcelona jersey, you were still upset with both of your sisters. so to wear alexia's name and number on your back felt a little too close to home for the time being which eli had respected enough not to bring up when she'd noticed.

you'd managed to busy yourself with your phone for a good half an hour, sat on one side of your mami as alba sat on the other, the two engaged in their own conversation that your anti social behaviour prompted you not be involved in.

but everything changed when eli stood to use the bathroom before kick off, alba then taking it upon herself to slide across one seat now sat right beside you causing a small sigh to drop from your lips.

"hermana." alba started gently and you recognised where she'd be angling this conversation from the soft tone of her voice.

"alba por favor i really do not want to talk about the other night, i do not even want to be here." you exhaled honestly, watching the warm ups on the pitch and avoiding her eyes.

"then why did you come?" your sister asked curiously, propping her arm over the back of her chair to rest her head on her fist. "mami made me." you grumbled in annoyance crossing your arms across your chest with a frown.

"so you don't have a curfew and go out at all hours of the night doing whatever you want with her permission but mami can still make you come to ale's games?" alba spoke as your head whipped around to snap at her though seeing the teasing smile on her face you realized she wasn't serious.

"sí." a small smile crept onto your lips which disappeared quickly. "saw that." alba commented quietly, turning her eyes back to the pitch as yours rolled.

thankfully before you were subjected to anymore small talk eli returned, but to your dismay alba didn't move seats and instead was now sat still beside you as eli sat on her other side.

when warm ups finished alexia's eyes drifted to the crowd, spotting olga sat with a few friends and waving before looking for her family. she spotted eli with a grin, waving again as alba did the same and for a moment alexia's eyes glanced over you without a second thought.

but then they snapped right back and widened in shock, not having seen you at a game for a long time now she hadn't even realised the figure sat beside alba was you.

"mami made her come!" alba mouthed giving the captain a subtle thumbs up as you missed the entire thing, attention focused on your phone.

catching eli's eye next alexia mouthed a thank you as the older woman smiled and gave a curt nod, alexia hurrying off to follow after the team to the change room.

upset with her or not and no matter how long it had been since you were at estadi johan cruyff there was no denying your sister was a force to be reckoned with on the football pitch, and she was enigmatic to watch play.

just before she was subbed off in the second half alexia lined up near the goal when caro stepped up to take the corner, delivering the ball in perfectly for your sisters head to knock it into the back of the net.

you looked around as the crowd errupted, chanting alexia's name as you of course clapped her goal though without quite as much enthusiasm as those around you.

you watched your sister turn toward where the three of you were sat and make a weird signal with her hands, blowing a kiss at your mami before racing back for kick off.

"you saw that, sí?" alba nudged you with a grin as you gave her an odd look. "qué?" you questioned a little confused as to what you were supposed to have been looking at.

"ale's celebration. E, A, F." alba recreated it with her own hands as the strange look didn't drop from your face and your older sister rolled her eyes.

"e-" she pointed at eli beside her. "-a-" she pointed at herself. "-f." she pointed to you as it clicked. "oh." you mumbled, dropping your sunglasses down over your eyes and remaining quiet for the duration of the match.

"can i go wait at the car?" you asked hopefully, glancing to eli as the stadium had now mostly cleared and the girls friends and families were making their way down to the pitch to greet the team on their six to nil win.

"no, stay where i can see you please hija there are a lot of people around still. i think you should come say hi to your hermana, but i will not push you." eli squeezed your shoulder with a gentle smile as you nodded, staying in your seat as she headed down to the barrier where alexia was already speaking with olga and alba.

you pulled your knees up to your chest and sighed, doom scrolling through your social media's to try and pass time as you attempted to ignore the internal battle your mind was having whether to go greet your sister or not.

"well well well, hola diablillo." you jumped a little in shock as a new body dropped down into the seat beside you, sunglasses snatched from your face and placed onto her own as you couldn't help but grin.

"you are so annoying maría give them back!" you laughed reaching for them as she clicked her tongue and pushed your hand away each time you reached to take them back.

"no i think i will keep them, they look better on me anyway no?" mapi teased before pulling you into a hug. "it has been some time since we've seen you here diablillo." mapi's voice was a little softer now and you weren't sure if alexia had filled her in at all on what had happened lately.

"sí, i have been busy." you shrugged dismissively making mapi chuckle. "ohh because you are so grown up now, just a little worker girl hm? too grown up to slum it with your sisters friends at a football match." mapi teased pinching and pulling at your cheeks playfully.

as you caught up with the older girl who seemed in no rush to go greet the rest of her teammates you were too occupied to feel alexia's eyes where she watched on from the barrier.

eyebrows furrowing and a strange feeling twisting in her stomach at the way you easily conversed with her best friend, rough housing around with her and laughing, just like how you used to with alexia.

"amor." olga's hand caught her wrist as she jumped the barrier to head up toward you, giving her girlfriend a slight look of warning as alexia tugged her hand away.

"i am just going to say hi." alexia promised as olga still looked unsure but nodded, turning around as someone called her name and alexia headed off up into the stands.

"you know diablillo you are nearly old enough for some of these of your own, maybe you come over and i will bust out my gun sí?" mapi grinned wolfishly, showing you a few of her new tattoos.

your eyes lit up in awe as they traced the deep inkings which wrapped around the older girls limbs, the exact same way they had as a child when you first laid eyes on her.

"i don't know how our mami would feel about that maría, stop being a bad influence." alexia's tone was teasing but she didn't miss the way your entire body seemed to tense at her arrival, mapi grinning up at her best friend none the less.

"me? capitana i would never." mapi gasped, standing to her feet and messing up your hair before handing you back your sunglasses. "you call me and we can talk more about it. adios diablillo!" mapi addressed you now with a wink, messing up your hair before making her way down to where ingrid was waiting, the tall norweigan sending you a kind smile and a wave which you returned.

"hola." alexia recaptured your attention now, your body stiffening as she sat down beside you, your sister frowning a little as you leaned your body away from hers just slightly.

"did you enjoy the match?" alexia asked, cautious of her every word as you nodded. "sí, it was a good win." you acknowledged, resting your chin on your knee as your fingers drummed anxiously against your thigh.

"i am glad you came, i have missed seeing your face in the stands." alexia's next words sent a strange feeling through you. "you didn't even notice i stopped coming." your words came out before you could stop them, alexia deflating a little as still you refused to look at her.

"fresa-lo siento hermana." alexia was quick to correct, trying her best to remember snippets of what you said the other night. "i know i did not and i really really want to-" she couldn't even finish her sentence before you shot to your feet.

"i need to go to the bathroom." you were gone before alexia could blink, scrambling away like a startled deer as your sister sighed and tiredly dragged her hands down her face.

there was a soft touch to her shoulder and she glanced up to see her girlfriend looking down at her sympathetically. "no luck?" olga winced slightly as she sat down and alexia shook her head.

"i barely said two words and she was gone. she looked terrified, and of me!" alexia struggled to get out with another deep sigh as olga rubbed her back.

"we talked about this ale, slow. fresa needs time and i know you want to fix it cariño but you have to let her come to you, she needs to want to fix things." olga reminded softly as alexia nodded, kissing the girls cheek appreciatively before the two of them stood and made their way back down to the pitch.

your airpods finally returned to you they were quickly stuffed in your ears as you allowed alba the front seat and slipped into the back, swaying your head a little to the music bouncing around your head as eli drove home.

you were snapped back to attention as someone tapped your knee, pausing your music and pulling one of them out, alba having turned around from the front to smile at you as you were now stopped outside her house.

"would you want to get breakfast tomorrow?" your older sister asked careful not to come on a little too strong but it was hard not to miss the hopeful look in her eye.

"i have plans already." you declined as your sister nodded in understanding. "maybe another time then." she squeezed your knee quickly and kissed your mami's cheek goodbye, thanking her for driving before she was gone.

"are you going to get in the front nena or make me drive you home like a taxi?" eli caught your eye with raised brows making you grin, unbuckling yourself and moving to the front seat, your door closing and belt re-buckling before she drove off.

"i thought your friends were kidnapping you tomorrow night?" eli hinted subtly as you looked out the window and hummed. "they are." you confirmed with a small nod.

"do you have other breakfast plans then?" "no." you sighed, sensing some sort of lecture might follow.

"i'm not ready yet mami." you added on honestly, still trying to come to terms with it all and what you thought was best for you going forward now you had some time to process everything.

"fair enough fresa, take all the time you need. but know your hermana's do love you, very very much."

~

"this is nearly done, go choose something to watch." eli nodded as you moved off the stool you'd been sat on and headed toward the living room, clicking on the tv.

"something funny? a love story? action movie?" you called out as you flicked through the genre's. "mami do you have a pref-" you glanced toward her right as there was a loud clatter and your eyes widened.

"mami! estás bien?" you were by her side in an instant, the older woman clutching her chest and rapidly shaking her head as you panicked. "mierda!" you fumbled around in your pockets, pulling out your phone and calling for help.

you rattled off quickly what was happening, your anxiety sky rocketing as suddenly the older woman fell to the ground still clutching at her chest as the medical officer on the other end of the line calmly told you an ambulance was dispatched and talked you through what to do.

"mami? mami? mami!" you repeated, struggling to breathe yourself as suddenly the older womans eyes closed and she went limp and unresponsive. the operater encouraging you stay on the line and assuring the ambulance would be there any second now.

"i don't know if she's breathing!" you cried out, unsure how to check for a pulse as rapid knocks were heard at your door and you forced yourself away from eli's limp body, two paramedics barreling in the moment you unlocked the door.

the operator now hanging up a third paramedic gently assured you were doing all the right things and eli needed to go to hospital, promising you that she was still breathing as you nodded.

"is your papi here querida?" the paramedic asked softly as you watched them carefully load your mami onto a stretcher. "he's dead." you replied bluntly, panic peaking as the other two spoke so fast you couldn't understand but they were saying but you knew it was serious.

"venga, go get your shoes and you can ride with your mami in the ambulance." the older woman squeezed your shoulder with a kind smile, repeating the words and shaking you lightly when you remained rooted in spot watching them push the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

your worry only continued when no one could really give you any answers, only repeating you would be at the hospital soon as they lowered an oxygen mask onto eli and spoke to one another in what felt like a second language over her head.

it was worse when you finally did arrive to the hospital, your mami wheeled off and out of sight as you panicked when you were informed you couldn't go with her and would need to sign it at the front desk and wait in emergency for further information.

"how old are you cariño?" the receptionist asked carefully when taking down your information. "seventeen." you replied, eyes straying every few seconds to the doors eli had been wheeled away into as if willing she would miraculously walk back out and all would be fine.

"you need to be over eighteen to be an emergency contact and sign the paperworker for your mami. is there anyone else who could come?" the lady asked as you sighed but nodded, knowing exactly who you needed to call as you excused yourself and pulled out your phone.

"alexia? algo malo sucedió, i need you."

~

alexia thanked the gods that she wasn't caught by police as she flew down the streets of barcelona going easily double the speed limit, barely saying two words to olga before she had her keys in hand and was sprinting out the door already on the phone to alba.

finding a park she locked her car and raced across the lot, chest tightening as she stepped into the emergency department, eyes scanning the waiting room before finally spotting you.

you'd always been shorter than her but sat on the chair in the waiting room drowned in a hoodie which was two sizes too big and staring off into space you looked positively tiny in alexia's mind.

you jolted and tensed up as arms were thrown around you, alexia noticing right away and letting go trying not to focus on how much it pained her that even in the current situation you couldn't hug her.

"you have to go fill in the admission paperwork at the front desk." you mumbled with a nod, refusing to even look her in the eye as you tucked your knees to your chest resting your chin on them.

spotting alba over your shoulder alexia caught her eye and stepped away toward the front desk leaving you with her, glancing repeatedly to the two of you every few seconds as she filled in the necessary documents.

"someone will be out later with more information." was the only answer she got when asking for an update on eli's condition, frustrated but knowing that now all you could all do was wait.

"hermanita what happened?" alexia crouched down in front of you as alba sat beside you, you shifted a little uncomfortably under the intensity of their stares but sighed.

"i don't know. mami was making dinner and everything was fine, i stepped away to find something for us to watch and i looked over when she dropped something and she was just grabbing at her chest-" you began to recount, your sisters hanging off your every word.

"-she couldn't speak she didn't even yell out or cry in pain or anything she was just silent but she looked terrified. then i called the ambulance and she fell down and her eyes closed and she went limp, i didn't know if she was breathing." you exhaled shakily and paused for a second before continuing.

"she didn't respond to anything i said or did she just laid there. and then the paramedics came and put her on a stretcher and we went in the ambulance and came here. then they wheeled her off back there and wouldn't tell me anything because i'm not eighteen." you puffed out air through your nose at that last part.

"they wouldn't tell me anything either, just said someone will be out with more information later." alexia sighed wearily, standing to her feet and sitting on your other side.

"oh fresa." alba started sympathetically, stretching an arm across your shoulders intending to draw you into her side but you shrugged her off. "please don't touch me." you muttered, your sisters sharing a concerned look over your head.

"hey nena we just-" alexia tried next, her hand which sat on your leg pushed away as you wordlessly stood and moved to a different row of chairs on the other side of the room sitting back down.

"just give her some space ale, she's clearly shaken up." alba stopped alexia where she stood to follow you. "even now she runs away like she's scared. mierda we're in the hospital!" alexia snapped as alba pulled her into a hug.

"she's not scared of you alexia she's just hurt, and we both know she has every right to be." alba reminded as the older girl exhaled and sunk back into her chair with a nod, both of them watching you cautiously as you seemed on another planet just looking off into space.

"segura?" around an hour later an official looking woman in scrubs and a clipboard called out, both of your sisters up and on their feet as you were quick to follow.

"daughters?" the woman clarified as you all nodded.

"your mami went into mild cardiac arrest, she's mostly stable but still out while we run some more tests to try and determine the cause. her heartbeat is quite irregular and she's having trouble breathing on her own so we've got her hooked up to a ventilator." the woman explained reading off her clipboard.

"can we see her?" alexia asked hopefully, deflating at the shake of head that followed. "she's in the coronary ward but she's being taken for some more tests soon. once we get the results of these initial ones she's just had someone will come speak to you, but all three of you don't need to be here." you frowned as that last sentence was clearly directed your way.

"gracias but we will all be staying." alexia stepped up protectively, the woman nodding before she stepped away and alexia rolled her eyes. "hey, have you eaten?" alba suddenly realised looking at you as you shook your head.

"vamos, the cafeteria should still be open." alba encouraged as you made no move to argue with her, tucking your hands into the pockets of your hoodie and nodding.

"go call olga. do you want a coffee?" alba checked as alexia nodded appreciatively, all three of you parting ways. you seemed lost in your own head as you arrived to the cafeteria, alba bumping you gently with her shoulder and nodding for you to pick something.

anxious and uptight you simply chose a sandwich, not really wanting to eat but knowing your sister well enough that if you didn't pick something she'd just pick for you.

"coffee?" alba offered as you shook your head, quickly paying for your sandwich before she could. "hey! i would have gotten that." your sister shoved you lightly as you shrugged, alba relieved when you didn't complain about the slight touch. "i have money." you replied dismissively, moving to take a seat while alba waited for their coffees.

it would seem you were hungrier than you realised as you polished off the sandwich in a few bites, finishing right as alba grabbed the coffees and you stood to follow her back to the waiting room, grateful she wasn't trying to push a conversation.

you took your seat again on the other side of the room to your sisters, missing the way their eyes raked over you with concern at how you stared blankly off into space, not a hint of emotion present in your features.

you of course were plagued with emotions, especially a growing anxiousness toward all the 'what ifs' which came with your mami's hospitalization and all the unknown details.

but determined to prove once and for all you weren't a baby anymore you'd bottled these feelings up, keeping them under lock and key in your own mind as you did your best not to let them show.

though as more time passed that anxiety grew and grew and grew and suddenly you couldn't seem to rid your brain of all the worse case scenarios racing around on repeat, sending your body into a sort of shock as you blocked out the world around you.

shaking your head and trying to zone back in you stood, needing a drink of some sorts and remembering having passed a vending machine on your way back from the cafeteria.

alexia watched you go with a small frown, alba having somehow fallen asleep in the hard chair next to her as the time was now nearing midnight and still they'd had no further news.

the overprotective older sister in her told her to call olga and have her come pick you up and take you to their home, though the slightly quieter but more rational side knew if she even suggested that it would only upset you and you'd refuse.

when a few minutes passed and you didn't return alexia grew a little worried, shaking a grumpy alba back awake and shoving half a cold coffee into her hand before following after you.

you glared at the vending machine in annoyance as again you tapped your phone to pay and punched in the numbers for the drink you wanted but it made no move to deliver it to you.

"vamos!" you shook it hoping that might help though to no avail as again nothing happened. trying another two times you were getting dangerously close to a breakdown as all of your bottled up emotions simmered on the surface and you gave the machine a hard kick.

finally the arm moved and grabbed the drink you wanted, but your eyes widened in disbelief as it seemed to die before it could drop into the awaiting chute, the entire machine going dark.

and that, that was what caused you to snap.

a string of curses left your mouth and hot tears welled up in the corner of your eyes as you kicked the machine over and over, missing alexia appear at the end of the hallway and race toward you.

"hey hey hey." you tensed as her arms grabbed your biceps and pulled you away, delivering one last hard kick to the machine before alexia had tugged you out of reach.

"get off!" you grunted though it came out as more of a choked up broken sob as alexia's heart dropped and despite the warning voice in the back of her head she refused to let go.

"alexia let go of me!" you cried out trying to pull away but your sister shook her head. "no." you weren't sure if it was the tone of her voice, your sheer exhaustion or the final overflow of the emotions which had been simmering for the last few hours but you gave in.

it was now alexia who tensed up in surprise as you suddenly turned in her arms and hugged her tightly, fists balling at her jumper as alexia relaxed and held you.

"está bien fresa, está bien. mami will be fine, everything will be fine." your sister cooed, hand rubbing small circles on your back as the other cradled your head which pressed into her shoulder.

a nurse walking past gave alexia a sympathetic smile which she returned, whispering assuring words in your ear and holding you tightly, no different than she would when you were upset and much younger.

after a few minutes you managed to calm yourself down a little, and realising who it was that was actively holding you had you pulling away and wiping your eyes with the corner of your sleeves.

"do you want to go for a walk?" alexia offered softly, and as much as the prospect of being alone with her wasn't ideal you really weren't up for returning to the silent stark white waiting room just yet so you nodded.

"wait." alexia held up a finger, glancing around to make sure no one was around before quite literally ramming her body shoulder first into the vending machine as your drink dropped down into the chute from the force.

"needed a footballers touch." your sister smiled handing it to you as you quietly thanked her. not really with any destination in mind the two of you started to wander, a comfortable distance between you as alexia ignored the urge to tuck you into her side like she would when you were younger.

"i do not think i have been in hospital this time of night since you broke your arm." alexia chanced a conversation, sending you a look which you met with a frown.

"i didn't break it alba broke it." you muttered with a slight huff causing a smile to curl onto your sisters lips at the memory.

you were eight years old and eli was working a night shift which left you in the care of both your older sisters for the evening.

showered and dinner had you'd all been watching a movie, dirty dancing, one you found incredibly boring and made a point to tell both your sisters this repeatedly throughout the entire film.

"he's strong!" you marveled as suddenly the main actor lifted his female counterpart into the air, holding her up easily and turning her around mid air. "pft thats easy!" alba dismissed with a scoff as you lifted your head from alexia's lap.

"you couldn't do it, chicken legs." you challenged as alba shot you a filthy glare which had you shrinking into your eldest sister who'd fallen asleep not long after the movie started, having trained twice today and gotten up early for a run.

"could too!" alba shot back as you shook your head. "could not." "could too!" "could not!" "could too!" "could not!"

"cállate por favor!" alexia interjected with a tired groan, eyes fluttering open and her hand moving to cover your mouth as you went to continue the argument.

"you are arguing with an eight year old?" alexia sighed at alba who rolled her eyes but ignored the question. "i could fresa. vamos, we will do it right now!" your middle sister stood and gestured for you to do the same as you wrenched alexia's hand off you.

"what are you both doing now? she should be in bed alba!"" alexia exhaled deeply, her own bed also calling her name. "bah! in a minute. go get a run up hermanita." alba ordered as you shrugged and jumped down from the couch.

"i do not even know what is happening and i know its a bad idea." alexia sighed rubbing her eyes with a shake of her head. "vale fresa, on my count!" alba encouraged readying herself as alexia watched on with a raised eyebrow.

"tres, dos, uno!" you sprinted on one, jumping as she grabbed you and indeed lifted you easily into the air. "muy bonito. the putellas hermanas everyone!" alexia's voice dripped with sarcasm as she clapped slowly with a roll of her eyes.

but what all three of you failed to miss was alba backing up dangerously close to the coffee table, alexia noticing just a millisecond too late.

"alba watch out for the-" the brunette started to warn before your sister made contact and tripped backwards. you hardly blinked then your body was dropping to the ground and a sickening crunch was heard.

"ay dios mio!" alba sat up and paled seeing your arm as you let out a scream, alexia dropping to her knees without a second thought and scooping you up. "get the car keys now!" she barked at alba who scrambled to her feet and raced off.

"hey hey hey fresa está bien, estás bien. don't cry nena don't cry!" alexia cooed, covering your eyes so you couldn't look down at your arm which was very clearly broken, your sobs muffled into her jumper as she sprinted out to the car, alba sliding into the drivers seat as alexia sat beside her still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"ale shouldn't she sit in the ba-" "drive alba! now!"

"she might have broke it but i'm the one who got in trouble for it!" alexia rolled her eyes with a small smile as you both turned around and headed back the way you came.

"i still was the worst off because it was my arm that was broken!" you reminded with a grunt. "hey you got a cast and jenni drew all over it, closest you got to having tattoos." alexia shrugged and you allowed yourself a small smile.

"and then you yelled at jenni and made her scribble over what she drew." you chuckled as alexia groaned. "because you were not going to school with detailed female anatomy on your arm." alexia sighed.

"it was educational!" "don't quote her! it was very inappropriate for an eight year old."

"that cast was so itchy it was the worst!" you sighed with a shake of your head. "then you threw a tantrum because it was white and not coloured." alexia teased lightly as you rolled your eyes.

"because liliana also broke her arm the week after and she got a red cast, and then everyone said she was faster than me." you frowned at the memory. "sí because red is the fastest colour?" alexia laughed beside you.

"obviously alexia, everybody knows that." you sighed as you both returned to the waiting room and at the tense atmosphere you clamped up again, falling silent and returning to your chair making your sister frown.

"anything?" alexia asked taking her own seat next to alba again. "she is done with tests for the night but still out of it, her breathing is better but her heart beat is still very irregular so they will monitor her closely." alba explained with a sigh, her eyes hovering over to you.

"anything?" her younger sister echoed the question back to alexia in regards to you now. "she had a slight meltdown but she didn't want to talk about it, got a hug out of her though and then we went for a walk and talked about when you broke her arm trying to do that stupid lift." alexia explained.

"and i proved i could do it!" alba defended as alexia gave her a side eye. "alba that is what you take from what i said?" the eldest putellas scoffed as alba shrugged, though before either girl could say anything the nurse from earlier reappeared and waved alexia over.

"you and your sisters should go home. you will not be able to see your mami until she is awake and more stable which will not be before tomorrow at least. she cannot afford anything to stress her out or affect her heart rate further until we have more answers on what caused the cardiac arrest." the nurse explained as alexia frowned but nodded.

"you are her emergency contact sí? we will call you once things change and you can all see your mami. but for now go home and rest, you cannot do anything else for her right now and she is in the best place being well looked after." the nurse encouraged before leaving again.

your eldest sister quickly filling alba in you were so zoned out you hadn't even seen her speak to the nurse, staring off into space as alexia took the seat beside you and bumped her shoulder into yours softly to gain your attention before filling you in.

"okay." you nodded quietly, glancing anxiously over your shoulder toward the doors where you'd last seen eli with a pained expression. "hey, they are right hermana there is nothing else we can do. you will come home with me and stay the night and we can go and see mami once she is awake." alexia's words had you shaking your head.

"its fine just take me home, i will be fine." you declined the offer firmly.

"i wasn't asking. you will stay with olga and i tonight and we can talk more about it tomorrow, its late and i think we all need some sleep. i will sleep better knowing you aren't in that house by yourself." alexia spoke softly but firmly, admittedly surprised when you gave in with a curt nod, making no move to argue.

"and you will call me as soon as you hear anything?" alba stressed as alexia sighed tiredly, unlocking her car for you to get into a little while later. "sí. as soon as i hear anything you will know!" alexia promised, drawing her younger sister into a hug before alba walked off to her own car and alexia slid into the drivers seat.

respecting that it didn't seem you were in any mood to talk alexia didn't try to make you, having already paid for her parking she slipped the ticket in and pulled out of the lot.

you watched the dimply lit streets of barcelona fly past in a blur, music filling the somewhat awkward tension in the car helping it to ease a little and before you knew it alexia was parking in the garage of her complex.

you exited the car and followed her into the elevator, still not a single word shared between either of you as your sister twirled her keys around on her finger and you both stepped out onto her floor.

alexia hadn't even turned the key in the door before it was swinging open, olga stood there with a sympathetic smile as you shuffled inside, wrapping your arms around yourself a little awkwardly as your sister kissed her girlfriend hello and closed the door.

"hermana do you want a shower? something to eat? drink?" alexia tried with a smile as you shook your head. "i'm tired." you hinted heavily, shifting from one foot to another and sending olga a small smile.

"vale, spare rooms all made up." alexia nodded behind you and with a quiet good night mumbled you were gone, door closing after you with a click as alexia seemed to deflate now you were no longer there.

"vamos mi amor, you look exhausted." olga encouraged softly, grabbing her girlfriends hand and alexia made no move to fight as she was pulled to her own bedroom, quickly changing and laying down in bed before filling olga in on everything.

"hey that sounds like some steps forward cariño? even just baby ones." the younger girl smiled softly as alexia hummed, the two finished speaking about eli and now moving onto you.

"and she came to your game, no?" olga continued as alexia shrugged. "because mami made her, and she'd rather talk to mapi than me." a slightly jealous pout curled onto her lips making her girlfriend chuckle and run a hand through her hair.

"she posted about going to the game? thats something." olga tried again as alexia gave her an odd look. "where? i did not see that." your sister frowned as olga grabbed her phone and clicked into instagram.

"see? shows she is not embarrassed to be at your game." olga showed your story as alexia's frown deepened and she was quick to grab her own phone from the nightstand.

"i don't see it?" your sister showed that your profile showed no story, comparing it side by side to olga's screen.

"amor what does this mean?" she pointed to the green trim around the edges of your story on olga's screen. "its on her close friends story." olga explained as alexia's eyes widened.

"she has a close friends story? why?" "a lot of people have them for privacy and stuff hermosa, especially teenagers." "privacy?" "sí, they might post stories that they do not want all their followers to be able to see so they have a close friends story where they can control who see's certain things." "and you....you are on her close friends." "sí, and lo siento mi amor but it looks like you are not."

"qué! i'm not going to show her stories to mami!" alexia scoffed as olga avoided her eyes. "why would she not want me on her close friends? i am a cool older sister!" alexia protested, clearly spiraling at this new information

"what? you want to say something, what?" alexia sat up a little and pressed her girlfriend who sighed. "querida. te quiero, mucho mucho mucho." olga started, grabbing alexia's hands in hers and kissing her knuckles.

"but you are...awkward ale. very very awkward!" olga winced as alexia's mouth formed a small o and she pulled her hands away. "no i am not! i play for barça, i go to fun events, i go to restaurants and bars and i travel and take nice photos. i take lots of photos of you all the time! i'm cool, i am!" alexia spiraled further as olga grabbed her hands again.

"you are thirty alexia, she is seventeen. i am sure its not personal! you are very cool amor, very cool." olga cooed in an attempt to soothe the blonde who scowled, crossing her arms and laying back down in bed.

"you are to your hermanita probably just...a little too old for her close friends story mi vida." "olga!"

~

you jolted upright in bed, body drenched in sweat and chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, tucking your knees up to your chest and rocking slightly with your eyes closed.

you hadn't had a nightmare in years but the one you'd just awoken from after the day you'd had meant your entire body was rigid and coiled with a cocktail of anxiety and dread.

being in your older sisters house in a bed and room that wasn't yours was not helping in the slightest. as your eyes adjusted to the darkness you kicked off the unfamiliar sheets which felt sticky and foreign against your skin.

managing to slow your breathing down a little you found your throat was dry, stripping off your hoodie and quietly leaving your room. a quick glance down the hall showing alexia's bedroom light was off you made a beeline for the kitchen.

you checked a few different cupboards before finally finding the glasses, doing your best to be quiet as you filled it with water and chugged it down, not hearing the soft footsteps which followed yor own.

"hermana?" you jumped a foot in the air and just caught the now empty glass by your fingertips as you nearly dropped it, grabbing at your chest and bending over a little as alexia stepped more into view.

"don't do that!" you warned in a harsh whisper, filling up the glass again and stepping aside as alexia grabbed her own glass and did the same. "lo siento. why are you up?" your sister asked with a concerned frown as you pointed to the glass in your hand and took a seat at the counter.

"did you have a nightmare? you only used to get up for water in the middle of the night when you had a bad dream." alexia asked softly once a few minutes passed and you hadn't made a move to return to your room.

you stayed silent as alexia leaned on the counter, not wanting to push you but watching the look of internal termoil clear on your face as your hands gripped the glass sat in front of you.

"if mami died i'd be all alone."

your words caught alexia off guard, a horrible sinking gut wrenching heart crushing feeling settling in her stomach as neither of you moved or spoke a word for at least a minute.

then once she seemed to snap out of the trance she'd been sent into she was rounding the counter, the thump of her glass against the counter bringing you back down to earth too and before you could take a breath there were hands either side of your face.

"no, no no no no. fresa you would never ever ever be alone. i would not let that happen no matter what i promise. i love you mi hermana, far too much to ever let you be alone. i would do anything for you!" alexia whispered out, holding your face firmly in your hands and her heart ached more seeing the tears pool in the corner of your eyes.

"then why did you stop trying to show me that? i have felt alone for the last year alexia! i felt like i have only had mami for the last year!" you could barely get your words out without your voice cracking, alexias stomach plummeting.

"because i am stupid and selfish and i saw you having friends and a life and i assumed you didn't need me around as much which was so wrong. i stopped checking in, i stopped making an effort and i hurt you. it is my biggest regret fresa, and not a day will go by where i will not wish i could change what has happened but i can't!" alexia's own eyes bore into yours filled with remorse.

"i know you are grown up now, but you will always be mi baby hermana. the same baby i held when you were born, watched learn how to talk and walk and whose hand i held when i walked you to school, who would steal my clothes or hide my boots so i didn't have to go to training because you would miss me and you couldn't come with me." alexia rambled, too far gone now to stop herself from word vomiting.

"the same baby who copied everything i did and snuck into my bed at night because you didn't like to sleep alone, who i would carry to the car when you fell asleep under the table at christmas dinner, who i tried to force to like football and accidentally knocked your front teeth out when i hit you in the face with the ball." alexia exhaled and finally stopped to take a breath before looking like she was going to continue.

"alexia." you sighed and pulled her hands away from your face.

"i know you and alba are trying, but it is really hard for me to see it as sincere when i tried for so long to tell you how i felt and neither of you listened." you spoke calmly, having swallowed the tears which wanted to burst forward.

"it is late and i am tired and it has been a really long night, i can't talk about this with you right now." you stood to your feet and went to leave, your sister grabbing your wrist gently as you paused.

"nena you would never be alone, vale? never." her lips ghosted your forehead but you were grateful she didn't pull you in for a hug, worried that would be the thing to tip you over the edge still actively swallowing back tears.

nodding at her words she let you go and the both of you returned back to your rooms though sleep didn't grace either you nor your older sister, both laying now wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

and alexia meant every word, she would fix this.

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

four

[featherandferns]

gamble (fic)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ squints his eyes open. 

“Quit it!” you scold with a smile. 

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

“Is it stinging?” you check. 

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

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

“Hey! I wash more than twice a week!”

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

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

“Done,” you brightly announce. 

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

“Feels nice, right?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Like that’s ever bothered you.”

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

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

“Prettiest girl in Kildare County.”

“Prettiest boy in North Carolina.”

“Always gotta one up me,” JJ sniggers. 

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

“Ew!”

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

“Ranger! Get off!”

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

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

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

“Could say the same thing to you.”

“Ranger! Seriously, man!” 

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” you giggle. 

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

“Hi.” 

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

“I want you to meet my parents.”

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

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

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

“JJ!”

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

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

The look intensifies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“One dinner?” 

“One dinner.”

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

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

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

His mouth drops open in horror. “What?”

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

“That’s blackmail!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Harder, harder!”

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

“You look good like this,” he says. 

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

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

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

“Meh,” he shrugs. 

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

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

“Sold.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Psst.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face contorts in disgust and disapproval. 

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

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

“Shush!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m in,” Bethany nods. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fishing,” JJ confirms. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

“Less of you how?”

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

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

“Fair point.”

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

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

“Yeah,” you nod. 

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

“Put me down, Maybank! Put me down!”

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

“I’ll scream!”

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

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

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

“I love you," you smile.

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

“Huh?” you ask, opening your eyes. 

“Fish on!”

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

“You remember how I showed you right?”

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

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

“I can’t!” 

“A’right, give it here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He sniggers. “Jus’ nature.”

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

“It’s alive!” you exclaim. 

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

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

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

“You’re fine,” he sniggers. 

“I didn’t think it’d be so…gruesome.”

“It’s a fish.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sup guys,” she greets. 

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

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

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

“You guys go fishing?”

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys eating here?”

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

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

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

“Damn. I forgot 'bout.”

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

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

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

“Tomorrow. What time?”

“Six.”

“On the dot.”

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

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

“Hey!”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know, boy. He’ll be here.”

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

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

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

Your mouth parts in horror at the sight. 

“Oh my God,” you breathe. 

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

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

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

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

“Like what? I’m here, ain’t I?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to, though?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I promise,” you reassure him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You okay?” you check. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, JJ. You say you have a job?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir,” JJ eventually says. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Busy, busy,” your mom beams. 

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

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

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

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

“Dad,” you grumble, embarrassed. 

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

“I’m gonna walk JJ out.”

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

“How you feelin’?”

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

“They liked you.”

“You sure?”

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

“Your dad’s scary as fuck.”

“He is not!”

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

“You want me too?”

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

“Well, a girl likes to feel wanted.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a cute nickname.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just gimme a ballpark figure.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this about last night?”

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

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

“Talk. Now,” you say, unimpressed. 

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

“I’m not bored,” you flatly reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“To work?”

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

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

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

He didn’t say it back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, really?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Because you don’t.”

“But what makes you say that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” you immediately reply. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She didn’t mean anything by it–”

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

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

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

Have fun tonight bby

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

You need to talk to him. 

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

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

JJ’s mouth on Ashley’s tits. 

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

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

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

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

“We need to talk.”

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

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

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

Ashley’s mouth around JJ’s dick. 

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

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

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

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

“Did you sleep with Ashley?”

JJ’s brows twitch. “What?”

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

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

“You said you’d answer–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was before we met.”

“How long before?”

“I don’t know–”

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

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

A week. 

One week. 

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

One week. 

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

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

JJ’s fingers inside of Ashley.

“Baby, please just…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’re you talking about?”

“The Royal Merchant, JJ!”

“Oh my…”

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

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

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

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

What a fucking mess. 

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

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

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

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

“Don’t say it like that!” JJ argues. 

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pet project?” you gape, bewildered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have you dug yourselves in too deep?

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

“You never say it, y’know?”

“What?”

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

JJ shakes his head. “Of course I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A decision about us?” JJ checks. 

You shrug again. “I guess.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re not mad?”

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

“He is,” you sniff, agreeing. 

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

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

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

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

“Ah,” she says. “I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

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

BBBRRRINNNGGGG. 

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

“Hello?” you mumble, half-asleep. 

“Hey! Can you hear me okay?”

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

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

“Hmngh.”

“Are you busy?”

“Not really,” you sleepily reply. 

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

“Is everything okay?”

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

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

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

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

“What…the…fuck?”

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

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

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

You purse your lips and nod slowly, contemplatively. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, uh, right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

JJ nods again. 

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

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

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

“I ain’t mean it like–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles at that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, JJ,” you murmur. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

read the alternative ending to gamble here!

[screeching-bunny]

Yandere! Concubine Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Many people would call you crazy or insane but you didn’t care. You absolutely hated your life and the god forsaken family you were born into. If you could choose, you would have been born into a lesser family. It wasn’t always like this, in fact when you were younger you were last in line for the throne. It was due to the sabotage of greedy and jealous mothers that got all your half siblings and full blooded siblings murdered. Unfortunately, that meant that you were forced into the position of being the next heir and eventually the new ruler.

You could remember the moment you became heir, you were immediately bombarded with people trying to curry up your favor. You honestly hated it, everyone just felt superficial and it didn’t help that as you grew, so did your power. Even your childhood friends were not immune to this. Imagine your shock when your closest friend got up on one knee and asked for the chance to court you. Then your classmate, then your former brother’s friend, and etc.

You had barely even had a concept of what love was. From a very young age your mother was murdered and your father hardly ever paid that much attention to you as well. You were mostly alone in your own little world and you absolutely loved that. People always just seemed so annoying to you that you did the bare minimum in communicating with others.

You tried to remain single as long as possible but your father did not agree with this decision of yours. He’s always seen relationships and marriage as a way to get more influence from around the world. So at the age of twenty, you were officially given a concubine, a foreign princess from the East. She was clingy and whenever you talked to other people she seemed to always want to monopolize your attention. This behavior only seemed to get worse when your father caused you to take in concubines to gain various alliances.

Within your harem there was competition daily. Sons of generals who tried to show off with their strengths, princesses who tried to get your attention with their singing abilities, princes who would try to show off their archery, scholars who showed off their intelligence, etc. The list goes on and on. There was so much jealousy in your harem that it was unbelievable. It also didn’t help that everyone was always trying to kill each other. You were so sick and tired of it. All you wanted was some peace and quiet.

There were daily assassination attempts on concubines, poised drinks to make someone infertile, constant fake crying so that you could favor someone, and etc. Every single time you take in a new concubine you could always feel them seething but you always ignored it. You didn’t know why they loved you so much, hell you even told them if they ever wanted a divorce you would give it to them. Yet, no one has ever left willingly. It was as if they looked up to you as a god or something it was just so strange.

You’re favored concubines were of course, always thrilled to have your attention on them. They were usually the ones who got to sleep with you at night. Seems as a privilege as only the most loved got to do that. You, however, had to be careful sometimes because unwanted sexual advances could happen anytime in the bedroom.

If you feel in a particularly good mood that day however, you may even let one of them bathe with you. “Your majesty, your skin is silky smooth. I wish to do this with you forever. No words can express how I feel and how much I love you. Won’t you allow me to be your first husband?” Yeah, this was basically how most of your conversations went. Everyone wanted to have the first slot at being your husband or wife. It was the ultimate showcase to prove you loved them the most and was a definite power trip for those in the harem.

Going to bed everyday was like a minefield. You just don’t know who’s going to show up in your chambers. Most of the time it’s one of your concubines, that you allowed to sleep with you for the night, in provocative attire. “Your majesty, I’ve been feeling a little lonely lately. Won’t you please pay some attention to me?” It’s honestly crazy how there is no limit of what these guys wouldn’t do for you. They just seem so overly infatuated and obsessive.

No matter what you did to them, they would always seem to look at you with love and admiration. You could basically insult all of them and they would accept it with a ‘thank you’. Nothing you did, could ever make them hate you.

Bullying was an extreme issue in your harem. No matter where you went there were always green tea bitches, white lotuses, and cunning foxes trying to bring someone down in your eyes. It’s even worse if they're new, having barely any awareness of what is happening, they definitely need to be more careful. No matter where you go at least three of them are stuck to your side. You’re alone time is basically nonexistent and extinct.

With teary eyes one of your concubines shout, “My lord, please help me! I’m being bullied by the others in the harem!” If you were being honest, you absolutely did not care about what was going on and one hundred percent knew that she was just using a manipulation tactic. However, to avoid the incoming headache you begin to console her and tell her that you’ll have a talk with everyone. You then decide to give her what she wanted and guide her towards your bedroom chambers. As you both leave she quickly looks at the faces of the others and sticks her tounge out. There was a look of absolute rage on their faces and with that they all had the same unanimous thought in their head.

“I’m totally going to get that bitch back for this!!!”

Pt.2

[yawnderu]

A/N: We made it to 3k less than a month after I reached 2k followers 🥺<3!!

I was genuinely not expecting this when I first made my account, but so far I've gotten so much support and I've met so many lovely people. I'm always reading your comments and reblogs, you mfs are hilarious JFEHJBFEHJB💕Onto the nasty sinful monkey sex now.

Synopsis: tired of working a dead-end job with no rewards, your childhood best friend offers you a job at his company, promising the stress levels are minimal and the pay is good. You accept with no second thoughts, not realizing you were tricked into becoming a stress relief toy for his men.

CW: humiliation, hard sex, gangbang, double vaginal, triple penetration, unsafe sex, creampie, 14 vs 1, cum swallowing, bukkake, spit kink, cockdrunk reader, deepthroat, handjobs, size kink, watersports.

Being a commander who saw his soldiers as family, Graves knew he always had to watch out for his men, reward them for their hard work and loyalty, and what better way to do that than with a sweet little thing like you? Their own personal stress relief toy, who was tricked into taking a job at the Shadow Company, yet so willing to please. So eager.

"You're enjoying this more than you should." He's teasing you, of course, yet his cocky expression does nothing to help the pooling warmth on your stomach. One of the shadows is sitting behind you, gloved hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs open while Graves grinded his clothed boner on your bare cunt, the fabric feeling almost painful if it wasn't for how wet you are.

"Maybe I am." You manage to reply, barely able to speak between whiny moans and soft gasps, his cock rubbing in all the right places, but the stimulation wasn't enough. No, he had been teasing you like this for the past 20 minutes, making his men watch as you became a putty mess in his hand. The shadows were men of discipline and self-control, keeping their hands folded politely behind their backs, ignoring their painful, throbbing cocks until their commander allowed them to use their brand new chew toy.

"I want you to know," He began, hand slipping under your chin firmly to force you to look up at him, hard cock rubbing faster up and down your cunt, pressing into you harder. "That I ain't playin' with you, Stray. My men will do anythin' I tell them to. Last chance to pull out." He warned and you shook your head no, his cocky smile growing even wider as his other hand went to squeeze your tit, looking for any signs of discomfort and much to his delight, seeing none.

"I can take it." The words are more of a reassurance to yourself, gaze drifting around the room and counting the men inside. 14, including Graves. You swallow thickly, nervous eyes drifting back to Graves, who simply raises an eyebrow in return, waiting for you to realize just how fucked up you are if you don't pull out.

"I can take it." You repeat, slowly believing the words more and more. He simply smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately, the same way he always did growing up.

"Attagirl." He pulled away from you and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing you'll do a good job for him. He nods to his men and they quickly get to work, hands groping you all over, long fingers entering your cunt roughly to the point you're becoming nothing but a whiny, whimpering mess. They're rough and impatient, your wrists being grabbed and forced onto their hard cocks until you're willingly jerking them off, hands barely able to wrap around their thick lengths. It's intimidating, yet so hot to be locked in a room full of hormonal, pent-up military men.

"On your knees." One of them commands, yet you're forced on your knees before you can even try to get up. Four cocks are in front of you and you begin sucking with no hesitation, eyes closing as you give into your role at the company. Your lips wrap around one of them, slowly taking him deeper until he gets too impatient and forces your head down to the base, the gagging noises your throat lets out simply making it feel better.

"Good girl." You don't even know who's praising you, but it's enough to give you the encouragement you needed, starting to bob your head up and down until you're pulled off the cock, a new one being shoved down your throat. They're using you— you know it, and you're letting them. You get passed around, tasting and sucking on different dicks while your hands keep themselves busy, deep moans and groans coming from above you. They get too impatient quick, the man you recognize as Oz wrapping his fingers on your hair, pulling on it until you willingly get up, throwing you into bed and opening your legs wide with brutal force. You look down, eyes widening as you see just jow thick he is.

"You said you could take it, ain't that right?" He uses your words against you, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, your head dropping back as a moan escapes your lips. That's all he needs for confirmation, hands firmly holding the curve of your waist before he buries his cock to the hilt in one thrust. A pained moan escapes your lips, eyebrows furrowing as your nails dig into his arm— the pretty, long acrylic nails Graves paid for earlier that day.

"Shit... S‐slow down, asshole." The way you struggle to take him is almost cute, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips as he shakes his head no once, holding onto you tighter while he slams in and out of you. You don't have much room to complain before another cock is being shoved into your face, your lips willingly wrapping around the tip, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue circles all over it. Your whiny moans are muffled as you slowly begin to suck more and more, the pleasure of being groped all over and being fucked good slowly getting rid of any hints of regret you may have.

"Fucking slut." Oz says, hand coming up to gently pinch and pull on your nipples while he fucks into you faster. All you can do is nod, tears dotting your eyelashes at the mix of pain and pleasure, using the cock in your mouth to cover up the embarrassing sounds escaping you from being a used like a whore. Your body is manhandled into another position, a different shadow underneath you who wastes no time on fucking into your cunt, filling you just as much as Oz was. Your hands are kept busy jerking off more cocks while your mouth is put into good use again, muffling the moan of protest that threatens to escape when you feel the tip of a dick teasing the entrance of your ass.

"Wait—" You manage to speak when the shadow takes his cock out of your throat to give you time to breathe, only to be interrupted by your throat being forced open again. You close your eyes tightly, trying your best to relax, the folds of your tight hole slowly being eased, the man is being surprisingly gentle for someone who holds so much power over you.

"Good girl." He praises softly, voice deep with desire, yet holding so much care. His hand gently caresses your ass as he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust before his hands rest on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock, the thin layer of skin diving your ass and cunt making the pleasure even greater. It doesn't take much before you're willingly slamming your hips down, moving in your own pace and fucking yourself into the big cocks inside you like a greedy whore, too eager to wait.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" You can recognize Grave's voice, choosing to ignore it for now as you simply focus on feeling good. It doesn't take long until the men are taking turns with you, wet cunt leaking everywhere, yet none of them seem to care. You wince as you feel a second cock on the entrance of your pussy, nervous, yet eager to please. You don't even have to lift your head to know whose cock it is— fucking Phillip Graves. The man who got you into this situation on the first place... which you're now glad happened.

He's surprisingly gentle as he squeezes his cock into your airtight hole, the pain of the stretch only being overpowered by the feeling of a cock slamming back into your throat, nose hitting dark, curly pubes every single time the masked man makes you deepthroat him. Your whiny moans are mixed in with the lewd, wet sounds of your holes being used and abused. You lost count of how many times you were filled, mind too hazy from all the overstimulation, yet you can register the door closing behind them, leaving you alone with Graves.

''Attagirl.'' He praises, his hand running down the length of your sweaty hair as his soft cock settles into your cum-stained lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him with curiosity. Your mouth is suddenly filled with a warm liquid and you swallow without thinking about it, eyes closing once he's done pissing into your slutty mouth. He slowly pulls out, putting his cock back in his pants and admiring the mess his men did of your body, covered in cum and small bruises from their strong hold when they were fucking you.

''I got another job for ya. Ever heard of the 141?''

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Bestiary (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: Your husband and you do not speak the same language. During your wedding night, you find out that High Valyrian and the Common Tongue pale when compared to the way your bodies allow you to communicate.

Warnings: Heavy smut, not much dialogue. P in V sex. First time.

A/N: Who would have thought the most enthusiastic consent I have ever written with Daemon would be in a fic with nearly no dialogue?

Being coached through your wedding vows is not a good omen for your marriage. At least, that is what your husband must think, by the thunderous look on his face. You fight the urge to scream at him that you have practiced for this moment and that you do not need to be coached through the vows. It would be no use. The two of you do not understand each other.

Everything is strange to you in Westeros, from the language to the wedding ceremony. They make you cut your lips and hand, in a procedure you do not enjoy. Your husband does the same. Your blood flows into a goblet, from which you will have to drink later on.

It's barbaric. You suppose it must symbolize the joining of bloodlines in the crudest way.

At least Daemon kisses you at the end, a cold brush of his lips against yours that tells you he is still mad. He had probably felt betrayed, being forced into this arrangement you entered willingly.

If you had known he was that petty, you would have not shown your hand so fast. Your father had wanted dragons, which meant becoming part of House Targaryen. Daemon was the only one available for you to ensnare in your web.

As any good hunter, you had watched your prey first, taking notes of his behavior. Only an afternoon was needed to understand you started the race with a disadvantage. His eyes followed Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys and her little daughter, but never lingered on other women.

While you might have lacked the silver hair, you did not lack the wits and charms necessary to be taken in consideration.

You had needed a few days to ready your song, but you had approached him not even a week later. He had been sitting in the library, so you had knocked on the table twice to draw his attention.

Daemon had lifted his eyes from the scroll he was reading, annoyed. He had a handsome face, decorated with age lines that only served to make him look more regal. He looked more the part of the King than his brother, a decaying corpse that you had heard had also acquired his own nubile bride.

Such was the fate of the daughters of powerful men. Sold to other powerful men, old enough to be their fathers, birthing them their own litter of sons and daughters. Sons that would grow up to become powerful men in their own right, daughters that would become pawns to establish dynasties. On and on it went.

Daemon had spoken then. His words were much harsher than those of the language you were used to, lacking the airy song of the languages similar to the one from the Rhoynar. You had not understood. You did not speak a lick of the Common Tongue.

No silver hair, no words, but plenty of resources. You had placed the book you had brought with you on the table, and looked at him.

His eyes had lit up with curiosity. He recognized the title. He spoke again, intrigued.

Despite his tone sounding much more auspicious, you had no other option than to shake your head and speak, with a tremulous voice.

“Bodmagho.” It's the only word you know, one that you have prepared especially for this. But just in case your pronunciation is not perfect, you open the book and mimic the gesture of passing the pages.

Daemon looks stunned. He says something else, still in the Common Tongue. You were able to tell from the intonation he was asking a question, but you didn't know what it was about.

“Bodmagho.” You repeated, stubbornly. You placed your book down and pointed to it.

Daemon sighed. He pointed to the chair. You sat, happy as a clam.

“Prince Daemon.” He pointed at himself. Then, to you. “Lady…?”

You told him your name. He nodded.

“Daor.” He shook his head. “No.”

You stared. He shook his head again. You understood that no, daor and shaking head meant the same.

“Daor. No.” You shook your head. Daemon squeezed your shoulder, a proud smile on his face.

Your father told you that afternoon that you were to be married to him. Just as you had made efforts to catch Daemon, your father had been setting his trap.

Daemon did not oppose, nor encourage the match, but he was angry at you. Angry that you knew before him and tried to charm him into doing your bidding.

Men like him, you learn, like to be the ones pulling the strings. They hate being treated like hounds, even if that is what they are.

You get no further lessons.

This is how you manage to get to your wedding feast only knowing two words. Teach and no. It makes you the most riveting company, and so, it's no wonder you are soon ushered into a chamber with your new husband.

You had not noticed before, but it is the first time you are alone with him since the morning at the library. To you, it had been a matter of no consequence. You had to marry a powerful man, one day. Your father decided it should be him because he wanted dragons. It was as simple as that.

As a rich man, your father had known rich men only get richer at times of unrest. And unrest was coming for the Seven Kingdoms. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the whispers of the common folk. Princess Rhaenyra wasn’t going to inherit without issue.

Your family moved here for that reason. An opportunity to get richer could not be dismissed. Your father had taken one look at the dragons and decided that they were the key to turning his legacy into an empire.

Giant war machines that could level castles in one afternoon. Raze a city to the ground in mere hours. Fire so hot it could melt stone. They could not be bought, you had to be a Targaryen to have them. It was only natural to turn into one, then.

Your children would get dragons. You would provide funds and as many children as you could, and House Targaryen the magic in their veins. Simple business transaction. But apparently, Daemon disagreed.

His face is thunderous. You can tell he is about to berate you. He starts talking, brows pinched together and an accusing finger pointed towards you.

Has he forgotten you do not speak his language? You step closer and poke his arm, hard.

It was the wrong choice. Daemon's face turns even more murderous. His lips twist into a snarl, teeth bared. His posture turns aggressive. He puffs up his chest, he advances on you. The Prince tries to intimidate you through his body language alone.

You are not a small woman. But you are young, and you do not train as much as he does. His looming over you feels menacing, and it reminds you once again of the fate his late wife was rumored to have suffered.

This was a bad idea. A terrible idea. Daemon is forcing you to walk backwards, pushing your forehead and nose with his. You either move, or get a broken nose and a concussion.

Daemon is terrifying. You will not cross him again, you think to yourself. Only a fool goes around poking dragons with a stick. You feel your palms starting to sweat, a knot forming in your throat. You fight the urge to cry.

The back of your knees hits the mattress, and you fall into the furs with a small noise of surprise. Your husband does not lose any time. He gets right into your face, trying to intimidate you even more.

But if you hope to survive this marriage, to make it work as your father has requested, you can't bend. Daemon will never respect you if you do. He will see you as no more than a frightened girl, who will not disagree with him and serve for little beyond warming his bed. You are not that. You will build an empire, a dynasty out of his dragons and your wealth. The only thing you can do is persevere or break trying.

Daemon scowls at you. He notices the change in your eyes, the fight coming back to you.

“Daor.” You say, staring him down with all your might. It doesn't matter if you are lying down, and he is hovering over you, pinning you under him. You will triumph.

Daemon doesn't heed the warning. He starts tugging at the buttons of your bodice, tiny pearls sent flying all over the room. The gesture is as brutal as it is calculated. It is meant to remind you of your place, always under him from now on. Daemon has a right to your body, and he intends to exercise it as he sees fit. You are no more than an object, and if you cry or scream, it is not relevant.

Despite knowing why he is doing it, you can't avoid grimacing. He looks more beast than a man, snarling over you, ripping your clothes. It's a sight that would scare any woman, no matter how cold.

You look up at him. You give him your own little snarl. Daemon pauses. It's not the reaction he was expecting. He wanted you to cry. You would never give him the satisfaction.

It's a balancing act. You will have to bring him to heel, but soothe his pride in the next act, less he turns on you. Push away a man too much, and he will think you are disrespecting him. He will call you names, thinking you are the problem. Daemon feels entitled to you. You need to show him he is not, but that you are giving yourself to him. He needs to value you. The treasure to his dragon.

“Daor!” You say, firmly. You push him away. Whatever he anticipated, you giving him a fight wasn't something he was prepared for. It shows in the way he folds, stunned by your behavior. You give him hard little slaps to the chest, until you manage to get him off you.

Daemon's scowl turns more confused than angry. He looks at you as if you are a particularly challenging riddle to crack. He rightens his clothes and starts to retreat.

“Daor.” You repeat, grabbing at his shirt to keep him in place. You do not want him to leave.

Daemon wretches free from your grip on his arm. He mutters something, angered.

“Daor.” You use his trick against him, stepping right into his path and forcing him to back off. You use your body to make him advance backwards, toward the bed.

He sits on the edge of it, still scowling. You giggle, making Daemon madder still. You look at him with what you hope is a seductive expression and pull your bodice down.

“Bodmagho?” You ask him, as your dress pools around your feet, leaving you in a sheer shift. Daemon's eyes darken. His expression changes into an amused smile, and he gestures for you to come to him.

You do. You step closer and get on his lap. His hands envelop your waist, warm and calloused.

Then, the unexpected. Daemon grabs your hair and pulls, forcing your head back. You moan, pain and arousal mixing into an unknown emotion that makes the place between your legs slick.

You can feel his breath against your neck, making you shiver. His face comes closer, and closer. Daemon stares into your eyes, lips slightly parted. You mirror his expression, feeling as if you are being consumed by your lust.

He arches an eyebrow. Never been one to shy away from a challenge, you brush his lower lip with his thumb. Daemon parts his lips and sucks it in his mouth.

The shock must have shown on your face because he laughs, giving your thumb a playful bite. You squirm, instinct overpowering modesty, and roll your hips against his.

The two of you stare at each other. Closer, and closer, until his features blur, until two purple eyes turn into one. A dragon turned cyclops by the mere force of lust. There is hunger and want, and confusion. Both of you are so close that you are sharing the same air, the same breath. And Daemon pulls, and you are kissing, and you shake in his arms, feeling like how you think the gods must have felt when the cyclopes formed the lighting.

His hands go to greedily knead at your thighs, slipping under your shift. His palms feel rough against your skin, impatient. The shift rides up, up, up. You mewl against his mouth, desperately reaching for something unknown to you but that you know Daemon will help you reach.

You are restless as he pets you, biting at your mouth, hands sinking in his hair. You tug him towards your neck, knowing his kisses, scorching hot, would burn even sweeter along your nape and ears.

Daemon, though, has other plans. He pulls away and pecks you on the lips. “Vūjigon ” He says. He touches his mouth. “Vūjigon”

You kiss him, softly. “Vūjigon”

He pets your hair.

“Vūjigon.” And he points to his collarbones. You frown in confusion, thinking perhaps the word doesn't mean what you think it does. He sighs and leans in, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the space between your collarbones.

“Vūjigon.” You perk up, and start kissing his shoulders. Your hands pull his shirt more open, letting you bite and lick more of his flesh. The urge to consume and be consumed is overpowering, making you desperate to touch him.

Daemon laughs. He pulls you upwards. Can't he see you are starving?

“Daor.” He says, when you try to go back to it. You give him your fiercest pout. Daemon tuts at you.

He squeezes one of your breasts, making you moan, before cruelly twisting the bud. You gasp, your nails digging on his naked shoulders.

“Shhh.” Daemon soothes you, his hand going to squeeze your breast tenderly once more. “Daor?”

You don't know how to tell him what you want, so you grab his hand and make him pinch the tender bud again. Daemon smiles. He kisses you, muttering something fervently on your lips.

He lays you down on the bed, despite your attempts to sit up. Daemon pins you down with a growl, hand on your chest.

You can't help it. No matter the warning, you squirm as if you were in pain. It certainly feels like it. There is some sort of hunger in your belly, making you want to rub your core against him. You can feel your shift starting to become wet right above your tailbone. Daemon has you so bothered you are dripping into the shift and the bed.

Daemon gives you another growl and leans down to bite your breast over the fabric of your shift. It's meant to be punishment, but you arch into it, gasping.

He laughs. He takes as much of it as it can fit in his mouth, sucking greedily. The noises are obscene. The sight must be, too. Your mouth, open, moaning yourself into a frenzy. Daemon, nipping, biting, sucking, like a man starved. Your shift with two giant wet spots, one at the chest and the other by your arse.

You moan, surprised at the feeling. You had never thought bodies could be used in such a way before. Nor had you hoped for him to please you so eagerly.

His lips close around your bud. His tongue twirls around it, lavishing it with attention. You grab at his hair, his nape, desperately trying to hold onto something. Daemon just sucks harder on your breast. You moan, and moan, and moan some more. Desperate little sounds, gathering in the air around a desperate girl.

He switches to your other breast. Your shift feels sticky on your skin, so you start trying to take it off. The task distracts you enough for his hand to find its way to your core, and you squeak at the first sensation of his fingers against it.

Daemon smiles against your skin. He presses a finger inside you, and you squeal some more. He lets go of your breast to better gaze into your overwhelmed face, seemingly getting an enjoyment out of it.

Another finger joins the first. You cry out. It stings a bit. Daemon shushes you, kissing your cheek. He rubs at something above your opening that makes you squirm in delight.

His other hand comes into your sight. Daemon makes a gesture, two fingers together, separating. You stare. He nuzzles you, his cheek against yours, before repeating it.

You nod with a pout.

He starts prying you open slowly, this time. Despite enjoying causing pain, it appears your cooperation has granted you privileges with Daemon. He understood the distress on your face, and read you correctly enough to know it was not going to go well if he kept going as he was.

Daemon rubs at your shoulders, soothingly. You understand you need to relax, and force your body to do so. He kisses you in reward, slow and sweet, coaxing you to him.

You nod again. Daemon moves back, settling himself by your side. He takes your shift away, pressing soft little kisses to each new inch of skin revealed.

The sudden removal of your last layer makes you shiver a little. Your skin is wet from his previous ministrations and rapidly cooling. You plaster yourself to him, seeking warmth.

He chuckles, grabbing your arse to move you slightly out of the way. You scowl, not sure why Daemon is doing so, until you realize he is taking off his breeches.

“Daemon.” You whisper, softly. There is a part of you that is already cringing at the promise of pain the loss of your maidenhead will bring.

“Daor?” He asks you, one of his hands petting your cunt. It makes you shiver.

“Bodmagho.” You grasp at his shoulders, steadying yourself. Daemon lines the two of you. You feel his member at your entrance, holding you open and threatening to spear you apart. It feels scorching against your skin.

He helps you impale yourself on his member. It's not pleasant at first. Property dictates that you should not let him see your discomfort. You should just bear it like a good wife and allow him to chase his pleasure unbothered.

But you know Daemon enjoys causing pain. He thrives on it. So you let your eyes fill with tears, and your face goes slack and overwhelmed.

He smiles. He licks your tears away, and mumbles something. You squeal, and it only excites him more.

“Bodamagho.” Daemon pinches the flesh on your hip, clearly calling you to focus. His hands move your pelvis back and forth, back and forth, until you are hissing in pleasure, your hands on his chest, doing the movement yourself.

“Vūjigon.” You demand, moving your hips just like he taught you. Daemon is too focused on aiding you bounce by thrusting upwards to pay attention to you. When he doesn't obey, you give a tug to his hair.

He snarls at you. You snarl back. So he grabs your wrists and pushes sideways, and suddenly, you are under him and Daemon is still thrusting into you.

You are desperate for closeness. You scrunch up your face and wrap your legs around his back. Daemon looks down at you, and bites your shoulder. He is not pleased with your perceived attempt to take control.

Realizing your mistake, you shake your head.

“Daor.” You rub at his back with your foot, gently. You hold him close, and nuzzle his neck, delighting in his scent. Never you had thought before you would enjoy the smell of sweat and some sort of aromatic oil, yet here you are. “Vūjigon.”

Daemon's expressions softens. He leans in and gives you a kiss. You make pleased, chirping noises, trying to show him that was precisely what you wanted.

He complies, releasing your hands. You enthusiastically hug him. It helps you anchor yourself against the unrelenting waves of pleasure.

His hands, now freed from yours, are everywhere. Twisting your buds, rubbing at your pearl, squeezing your waist. Daemon whispers nonsense in your ears, takes the lobe between his teeth. He aids you, tilting your hips with his hands, reaching deeper.

You heard a story once, about Westeros. A white hart was said to come to the greatest Kings alive. A magnificent beast, tall as a man, with skin made of the purest snow and antlers as long and imposing as the branches of an ancient tree. If a King encountered it, it was a good omen for his rule. It would be just and prosperous, blessed by the Gods.

What did they do with the hart? Keep it in Kingswood, perhaps? You had made the mistake of asking, once. You had been told that they used the best spear they had. That men held the hart down, and they gutted it from head to belly.

The perfect, regal beast, fur as pale as snow. The pristine white sheets under you. Blood tainting the white. What a way to go.

You understood then why they called it a small death. You were sweating, squealing like a beast being gutted, thighs trembling under Daemon's hands. It was too much and too little, and you felt yourself reaching it, yearning for it.

You did not care if you burned, moth to a flame, maiden to a dragon. Daemon seemed to realize it because his hand went to rub at your pearl, and he leaned in.

“….” He was talking, but it was in that strange language of his, and your ears were ringing, you felt about to explode. Your body responded to his tone, though. Gentle, loving, coaxing you over the edge with a scream so fierce you might as well have been one of those weeping women that appeared far north.

Daemon grinned at you. A fierce, proud expression, eyes crinkling in the corners. You pulled him into a kiss, and raked your nails down his back, feeling the skin yield like butter under your fingers. It spurred him on, and with a gasp and a bite to your shoulder, Daemon was shattering inside you.

He collapsed on top of you with a laugh. You smiled. Daemon pulled you to rest, back flush against his chest, and you understood each other better than those who spoke the same, common tongue, did.

[amostnobleyandere]

Yandere! Diluc x Reader

Summary: Kidnapped Reader begins to feel touch starved after being trapped for so long and finally reciprocates Diluc’s need for physical affection. Cue a steamy make-out session.

MDNI.

Warning(s): YANDERE content (do not read if you are not comfortable), kidnapping, imprisonment, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied Stockholm syndrome, dubious consent (concerning touch), forced affection, forced kissing, steamy, !! heavily suggestive ending (smut implied)!!, slight hair pulling, slight isolation, forced marriage, they make out and both of them get somewhat turned on *gasp*

—————————

“Just one kiss. Please, darling.”

“No-“

Your protests were silenced by Diluc pushing his plush lips onto yours. The kiss was soft, delicate, and loving, something filled with longing after not seeing you for hours. However, the romance of it all didn’t mean much to you when you had been backed into the corner of your shared canopy bed with no way to escape.

You tightly fisted your hands into the sheets as his lips pressed insistently against yours, a discarded book next lying open on the silken bedding. You had been entertaining yourself pretty well before Diluc, your husband, had gotten home from a long day of work and business, deciding that he wanted to relish in your company after being deprived of it for so many hours. Your husband was a working man, and unfortunately for you, he only became more desperate to hold you after being separated most days.

Diluc’s arms caged you in while his thigh pressed against yours, heat seeping through the thin fabric. His winter clothes had been switched out for lighter ones with the coming spring, and you could feel every tensing muscle in his body as it shifted against your shamefully thin loungewear. You could feel the twitching of his body, the stiff movements that came with him resisting the urge to run his hands all over you. He knew you didn’t like him touching you. He knew that he was pushing it by kissing you with such intensity.

Today though, today was different. You didn’t mind the way his lips were bruising yours with each practiced tilt of his head. An all too human part of you was so tired of resisting every day, and it craved the warmth that you felt in those moments after he was done kissing you; those moments when he brought his gloved hands up to caress your face as you avoided his painfully adoring expression.

Hesitantly, you brought your tense arm up to graze the hair near the back of his head, each movement feeling slow and forced. But god, you were so desperate for the thought of being touched, and could no longer keep up the act of repulsion to the little physical touch Diluc gave you; you were tired of being careful to avoid every brush of skin, every silent show of affection.

Diluc knew it made you uncomfortable, and for the first few months of your “stay” you would have rather gagged yourself before you ever kissed him willingly. But loneliness was a powerful thing, and besides the maids who would barely look you in the eye, he was the only one you could reach out and hold.

Your hand landed on the back of his ponytail and you did you best to ignore how quickly Diluc stiffened under the shift in weight. His lips froze against yours in shock, but you pushed your hand further into his hair before anxiety made you pull it back. Your fingers curled into his locks, slightly tugging at the base where a ribbon held it back, and the first thing you thought was how absolutely soft it was.

You heard Diluc shakily breathe in, his eyes wide as he stared at you in disbelief. His hands landed firmly on your hips in an awkward attempt to put them somewhere. You could feel his fingertips digging into your skin, hands tense as he felt the new sensation of your fingers running through his hair.

…Clearly your touch was not unwelcome.

Feeling emboldened, you went further. With one of your hands still nestled in his hair, you rested the other one on his chest. You curiously ran it up to his collar, distracted by the new feeling of the coarse clothing and the strong body that shuddered underneath your light touch. You felt his heart beat unimaginably fast against your palm, heat seeping into your skin already from the light contact.

You quickly glanced up at his eyes and immediately became aware of the intensity of the look he was giving you. His gaze roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips, searching fervently for something in your expression. You had never been the one to initiate anything before, much less encourage his behavior. You had always been quite cold to your captor ever since he had swept you away and locked you up in his mansion, too paranoid and in love to keep you anywhere but under his watchful eye.

You suddenly felt very nervous. Diluc’s blood red eyes reminded you of a predator, following every slight movement you made with rapt attention.

A primal part of you was scared of breaking eye contact with the dangerous man in front of you and you felt your heartbeat quicken for the first time in a while; whether it was fear or excitement, it made a fire light in your body.

Slowly, you leaned into him, ghosting your lips against his as he sharply inhaled, muscles tensing underneath your fingers as you focused on the rhythmic thrum of his heart. You moved the hand over his heart to join the other nestled in his hair. You pressed your chests together, practically melting into him as the lonely place in your heart sighed in relief at the warmth surrounding you.

You were the closest to him you had ever been, and you were returning the affection he had showered you with since the day he took you away. In the moment, you were unaware as to what exactly was going through Diluc’s mind. This was a sign of you willingly accepting his love. A thing you had only ever seemed to acknowledge reluctantly. His self restraint snapped, and then his hands were everywhere.

What had gone from a sensual kiss of longing was now a passionate fight for breath, with every harsh press of his lips to yours ending and beginning again at a dizzying pace. His exhales met yours in quick, desperate pants, as he seemed only able to pull away for a second before attaching himself to you again.

You soon lost your balance from the onslaught and fell back onto the bed. Diluc paused for a brief moment before following you and carefully placing himself over you, putting his weight on one forearm and using his other hand to impatiently tug open his collar.

“Diluc?” You said, dazed by the sudden change in his behavior.

“Hot,” was the only thing he said, forgoing elaborating to instead nudge his face into the crook of your neck. You tensed as you felt his lips brush against the sensitive area, each exhale adding more heat to already damp skin.

You nearly screamed when you felt his lips settle onto your skin, his teeth latching onto your neck happily. He bit painful heat into your throat, marking each new spot he found with eagerness as he moved down your neck. He began pressing fleeting kisses up to your ear, which he then happily bit and abused. His tongue ran across the shell languidly, a teasing motion with a meaning more sensual behind it, and an unexpected bolt of electricity shot through you.

Diluc seemed to be caught between deciding to pin you underneath him or allowing your hands to be entwined in his hair. Eventually, he guided your hand up to where it had previously been, and you automatically pulled on the long strands just to ground yourself. He moaned at the feeling. You teased the ribbon away until it fell from his nape, watching bright red locks spill over the broad shoulders now caging you in.

Errant strands floated above you, teasing at your face and skin as Diluc ran his hands up and down the side of your waist. He panted in your ear and his hot breaths bounced against sensitive skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms.

You jumped as you felt his hand run to your thigh and squeeze, the firm grip making something light up in your stomach. You inhaled shakily, gasping as your realized that you were going to get what you wanted and more. Tonight was going to be a long night.

—————————

[indecisive-capricorn]

Headcanons to Yandere Portgas D Ace x Reader:

WARNINGS: Yandere, kidnapping, mentions of starvation (not from Ace), lovesick, insecurity, manipulation, jealousy and etc.

SUMMARY: Although Portgas D Ace could hardly find any treasure in the land of Wano, he had found something far more priceless than any jewel in the world.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

When Ace landed in Wano, you were one of the few who met him with curiosity rather than fear. While most villagers were wary, you went up to Ace and his crew and offered to cook for them- a gesture that genuinely surprised him.

Wano had been suffering from severe food shortages, but despite this, you and the villagers didn’t hesitate to share what little you had. Ace noticed how you always prioritized the elders and kids, even after he snuck in extra food. Your constant positivity and willingness to help others, even in tough times, left a lasting impression on him.

As Ace kept returning, bringing in supplies and lending a hand with clothes and hats, he started seeing more of who you were. Your curiosity about the outside world and your selfless outlook fascinated him.

But every time he saw the officials in the Flower Capital treat you with disdain—just because you were from a poorer village—it set him off. You were doing nothing but trying to help, and yet they barely acknowledged you, often dismissing you outright. It made no sense to him why someone as kind as you faced so much disrespect.

When Ace was ready to leave, he asked if you’d come along with him. As he expected, you turned him down, laughing off the idea and saying you couldn’t just abandon your people. But he wasn’t about to give up that easily. He decided he’d go about it one of two ways, depending on his mood.

If he was calm and in the mood to reason, he’d explain how leaving would give you a chance to learn, grow stronger, and one day bring those skills back to help free Wano from Kaido’s rule. Ace never wanted you to feel less than anyone, especially not weaker than him or anyone else. But he knew you were well aware of how difficult it would be to stand up to someone like Kaido and his forces.

But if his patience was thin, he might not bother with words. Instead, he’d quietly sneak into the village at night and take you with him, even if it meant dragging you onto his ship.

One way or another, Ace was determined to give you a future beyond Wano, promising he’d bring you back someday, once you were trained and ready. But something deep down told you that he might not be willing to let you go so easily, even with his promise.

Once you were on board with him, whether you had agreed willingly or not, Ace barely let you out of his sight. He stuck close, insisting you share stories from the books you’d read back in Wano.

Ace was in what could only be described as a "honeymoon phase", though neither of you had exactly put a label on your relationship. Still, he was constantly affectionate, sticking to your side like a koala and playfully hinting for some affection in return. Although he wanted nothing more than for you to be comfortable and even affectionate back, he held off, giving you space to adjust. So, instead, he showered you with his own warmth, always finding new ways to make you laugh and feel at ease in your new life with him.

Ace often talked about his “Pops,” also known as Whitebeard, and all his crewmates, whom he considered family. He wanted you to know a bit about each of them before you met, hoping it would make things easier when you arrived. When he mentioned Izo, though, it surprised you since this was the same Izo who’d left Wano years ago, vanishing without a trace.

Your curiosity sparked up again and Ace was thrilled when you started asking questions with that familiar, eager tone, and he kept talking, doing anything he could to make you feel comfortable.

When you finally arrived on Whitebeard's ship, you couldn’t help but feel out of place; everyone seemed so skilled and capable. Other than your healing abilities, you didn’t feel like you had much to offer. But the crew welcomed you warmly, and Whitebeard himself began calling you his daughter.

Ace was overjoyed to see you settling in, but it wasn’t long before jealousy kicked in when you started spending more time with Izo and Marco.

Izo reminded you of home, and you found yourself talking to him about Wano and dreaming of taking it back someday. With Marco, you were captivated by his impressive healing skills and eager to learn everything you could from him. Seeing you bond with them so naturally left Ace feeling a little possessive.

Ace had always felt undeserving of any love or affection, burdened by the guilt of his mother’s death at his birth and the shadow of his infamous father, Gol D. Roger. His past had convinced him that love was a rare gift meant for others, but being with you changed that. Your kindness, so freely given, became something he cherished deeply, and he found himself wanting to keep it all for himself.

He would never hurt his brothers, but he found ways to keep you close, telling you that his crewmates were tied up with duties or that they simply didn’t have the time for visits. Knowing how thoughtful you were, he knew you’d never want to interrupt their work, so you often ended up playing cards or board games with him whenever you both had spare time.

Ace soon convinced Whitebeard that it would be best if you accompanied him on missions, claiming he needed a healer by his side to stay safe and given his tendency to get injured, Whitebeard saw the logic. However, the old man wasn’t oblivious either. He had noticed Ace’s looks of jealousy whenever you spent time with Izo or Marco, but he thought it was only an innocent crush and agreed to it.

This arrangement meant you were with Ace on every adventure, and while it could be tiring with his constant need to keep you by his side, you couldn’t deny that it also brought you the chance to explore more of the world. It might not be the best in the world, but it's certainly not the worst to endure. Even when he acts like a clingy koala.