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To the people who walk straight down the main road in a parking lot:
You are getting a bad grade in pedestrian, something that is normal to not want, a possible to achieve
#clarification: i have nothing against pedestrians#but when you walk several aisles down the main throughway you are a massive inconvenience#and putting youself in actual danger fir thise who dont look carefully#personal
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rumours (fic)
jj maybank x grumpy!fem!reader | HEAVILY inspired
content warning: mentions of drinking and smoking; absent parents
word count: 20k.
blurb: your life has been surrounded by rumours, and so has JJ Maybank's. One night, out of the blue, he strikes up a conversation with you. From there, the rumours only grow, and some rumours are far worse than others.
There was a rumour that you and your sister weren’t allowed to date until graduating high school. That one was true, until March of Junior Year.
Kildare Academy was full of spoilt assholes.
Well, in fairness, not everyone fit into that category. Some people were spoilt but bearable, and some people were assholes but not particularly spoilt. Rafe Cameron was the perfect culmination of both. He was in your junior year despite being a senior. He flunked so hard last year that the academy insisted that he retake it to graduate with a subpar diploma. At the yacht club, it had been the talk for about two months, much to the displeasure of Ward and Rose Cameron. You’d found yourself sharing nearly every class with Rafe since the year started and, man oh man, was it torture.
He found you the perfect bear to poke, never passing the opportunity to make a jab about your clothes or your face or your overall demeanour. The latter to mean that you weren’t the most approachable of people. Whilst you self-described as tempestuous, others might prefer the term ‘heinous bitch’. Rafe Cameron knew how to push your buttons it seemed, and you in turn knew how to bite back just enough to leave a mark.
“I can’t wait to get out of this town,” you complain to your friend Mia. “If I have to spend another seventeen years surrounded by these half-wits then I’ll pull a Sylvia Plath, I swear.”
“Clearly today has been a good day,” Mia chuckles. She’d known you long enough for the bitter grump of your character not to phase her. “Rafe bothering you again?”
“He’s intolerable,” you tell her, indirectly answering her question. “In music today he thought it’d be funny to put cola in the trombone. Men blow my mind with their stupidity. God knows how the patriarchy was even formed with how little brain cells they use.”
The two of you walk down the stairs of the school, heading to the parking lot amongst the herd of students. The spring weather is finally creeping in now that you're in March. The floral smell of blossoms hangs in the air, embracing the world in a warmish breeze. The briefly pleasant moment is rudely interrupted by none other but the devil-boy himself. His bright red Mercedes whips into the throughway of the parking lot. He doesn't seem to care about hitting anybody. To him, others are like bowling pins: he’d probably take delight in taking someone out.
You and Mia ignore him as you walk up to your car. At least, that was the plan, until you look up from your keys in time to see your younger sister Charlotte hopping into the back of Rafe’s pimped out ride per his offer.
“That’s an interesting development,” Mia remarks.
You watch as Rafe revs the engine - grinning like the pompous asshole he is - before jetting away. He narrowly misses knocking some poor kid off his bike in the process.
“It’s disgusting, is what it is,” you correct, promptly blinking away the surprise.
You follow Mia into your car, tossing your track bag into the backseat, and start up the engine.
Charlotte was only fifteen. She was young, innocent, carefree and (more often than not) insufferable. You couldn’t be more different. Whilst Charlotte searched for the good in people, you tried to find ways to stay as far away from them as possible. The only tell that you were related were your features. The same nose and same chin, you taking your father’s eyes and her your mother’s. At school, Charlotte enjoyed pretending that she didn’t know who you were. Your reputation didn’t pair well with hers, and at fifteen, nothing was more important to Charlotte than popularity. Those things didn’t matter to you. What someone thought of you didn’t make much difference to your mood or your future. Studying on the other hand? That was the stuff of consequence. Nevertheless, you cared for your sister. Her cushioned upbringing made her vulnerable. She had been sheltered by your family’s wealth and because of your father’s obsessive protectiveness, her experiences with boys were minimal. That to say, having her in Rafe’s line of sight certainly made you uneasy.
You drive home chatting to Mia about the plans for the weekend - planning to head to The Wreck for lunch on Saturday - but you can’t stop thinking about Charlotte sat in the back of Rafe’s car. When you pull up outside Mia’s house, she pauses just after opening the door.
“What do you think that was about? With Charlotte and Rafe?”
“Honestly, I have no idea,” you reply, turning down the radio. "But I’m not gonna let it go any further.”
“Amen,” Mia agrees. With that, she gives a small wave and climbs out the car. “See you tomorrow.”
“See ya.”
When you pull up outside your house, you spot your dad sitting on the porch. He’s probably reading notes about the latest case he’s taken on. As one of the best lawyers on Figure Eight, he always has plenty of work to be chipping away at. Sometimes it feels like he has a new client every week.
You make your way up the neatly kept garden path, the creaking gate giving you away.
“Afternoon sweetheart,” he says, not looking up.
“Hey dad,” you reply, walking up the steps.
“How’s your day been? Made anyone cry yet?”
“Not yet, but the day’s still young,” you return, only half joking. With that, he glances up. “How’s the case?”
“Long. Boring. Don’t let on that I said that.” he says. “Where’s your sister?”
Before you can delight in telling, as if manifested into existence, Charlotte comes floating up the pathway. Her ridiculously short white tennis skirt floats in the wind like a dove’s feathered wings taking flight. Not one hair is out of place and not one eyelash misaligned. You resist the urge to roll your eyes as she makes her way up the stairs.
“Where’ve you been?” your dad immediately quizzes.
“Nowhere daddy.”
“How come you’re later home than your sister?”
“Well, somebody wouldn’t give me ride,” Charlotte replies, shooting you a glare. Her perfect smile takes on an edge when you lock eyes.
Your dad sighs and looks up at you. “We talked about this. Until Charlotte gets her license, you drive her to and from school. Y’all are both heading to the same place anyway, so what’s the big whoop?”
“She hijacks my radio and plays fluffy pop crap.”
“Taylor Swift is not ‘fluffy pop crap’. She’s the bible itself. You’re just not used to listening to good music,” Charlotte replies.
Swallowing your anger, you correct your stance, folding your arms across your chest. Biting back a smirk, you say, “ask Charlotte which guy drove her home today.”
“Don’t change the—Guy? What guy?”
Charlotte’s face goes to drop but she recovers quickly. Taking a reproachful step towards your dad like he’s an unpredictable stray dog, she talks in a sickly-sweet voice.
“Now, daddy, don’t be angry, but there’s this boy at school and I think he—”
“Believe me, I think I know what he’ll be thinking,” your dad immediately cuts in. “And the answer is no. It is always no.”
As your little sister’s eyes flash to yours, you grin victoriously. Enjoy, you mouth to her. The angry twitch in her brow is delightful.
“Daddy, this is ridiculous! I’m the only girl in high school who isn’t dating!” Charlotte whines.
“You’re fifteen, you don’t need to be dating. And you’re not the only girl. She isn’t dating either,” your dad replies, shoving a thumb over his shoulder in your direction.
“And I don’t intend to. I got bigger fish to fry,” you say. Charlotte’s deadly stare hardens tenfold. “Besides, the boys in this town are whack jobs.”
“Like music to my ears,” your dad practically sighs. Very rarely do you seem to please him, but your stance on boys appears to be the one common ground the two of you have. “Now y’all both know the rule: no dating ‘til you graduate.”
“This is so unfair! The two of you are so unhinged!” Charlotte goes on. She seems about a minute away from stomping her feet and waving her fists like a toddler throwing a tantrum. You’re only half ashamed to say that you relish in every moment of it.
You see, Charlotte was a daddy’s girl. Pretty, pink and poised, she loved the theatrics of Kook life. At the yacht club gatherings and the monthly dinner parties, the two of them would soak up every minute whilst you’d skulk in the back, headphones in and bitch-face on. You’d never much connected with either of them. Your mom understood you well, but she wasn’t around now, so, what did it matter? All the Kook crap was just that to you: crap. Fickle people who were so rich that their nerves were deadened, leaving them to enjoy nothing more than gossiping about everyone and everything. Whilst one half of the island waited tables and sweated out in the sun day-and-night to keep the lights on, the other was complaining about their golf clubs not being shiny enough. It was all crap.
“Alright, fine. Here’s how we fix this. Old rule out, new rule in. You can date,” your dad says to Charlotte. Her smile is instantaneous. As your mouth goes to gape open in horror – the thought of Rafe Cameron snapping up your sister like a crocodile preying on a bunny – your dad makes your day. “…when your sister does.”
“What!?”
“Har har,” you grin.
Charlotte points accusingly at you. “But she’s a mutant! You couldn’t pay a guy to date her!”
Your grin only grows with the thought.
“Then I guess you’ll never date. Oh! I like the sound of that,” your dad gloats. God, you have never loved him more. “Now get out of my hair, the both of y’all. I need to get these notes done for tomorrow.”
“Thanks dad,” you chirp, promptly heading into the house. Charlotte is quick to follow.
“You’re evil,” she hisses.
You shrug, back facing her as you start up the stairs. “And you’re spoilt.”
“Urgh! Has it ever occurred to you that you’re like clinically insane!?”
“Don’t care!” you sing-song before darting into your room, closing the door behind you. Through the wood, you hear Charlotte let out a shriek.
Smiling, you dump your school bag and take up shop at your desk, hoping to get some studying done, peaceful at last with the thought of Rafe Cameron never getting near your sister.
There was a rumour that when JJ first spoke to you, you spat in his face. That one was false.
“Hiya princess.”
The rasp of a guy’s voice interrupts your conversation about the yacht club’s annual spring-ball with Mia. Slowing turning your head to your left, you come face to face with a dirty-blonde haired boy. He looks to be about seventeen. His skin is slightly glossy, presumably from sunscreen and sweat, and there’s a smirk hiding behind his smile. That’s when you know that this boy is trouble.
“You talking to me?” you ask, unimpressed.
“Who else?”
“Hopefully anyone,” you say.
Mia snorts. You look away from him to share a bemused look with your friend. This guy cannot be serious…
“You need’a hand there?”
Eyebrows pulling together, you glance at him. He seems to think you’re confused about what he’s referring to, nodding down to the Sprite bottle in your hand. The cap’s still on. The truth is, you’re confused as to why he’s even talking to you at all. Wordlessly, you lift the bottle to your mouth and secure your teeth around the cap. There’s the satisfying click-crack as it comes lose and you spit it on the floor by his feet. Then, holding his gaze, you take a drink. His eyebrows quirk up in surprise.
“That’s, uh, certainly one way to get a guy’s attention,” he says, chuckling to try and regain some charm.
“My mission in life,” you return. Then, before he can cook up something else to say, you turn to Mia and loop your arm in hers, guiding the two of you to the exit of The Wreck. You’d been planning on heading out anyway, having finished your lunch earlier, and this was a sign from the universe that whatever good time you’d been having was officially over.
Unfortunately, the guy doesn’t seem so easily deterred.
“I’ll pick up at eight then?”
“Oh, yeah, eight. Uh huh,” you agree dismissively.
He falls in step with you on your left, hands casually shoved in his short pockets, combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floor.
“Well, you know, the night I take you to places you’ve never been before.”
You see his boyish grin in your peripheral, making you whip your head around to meet his stare.
“Where? The seven-eleven off main street?”
His lips part, blundering for some quick-witted reply, but you don’t give him chance.
“Do you even know my name, screw-boy?”
The smirk is back, full force. Tilting his head slightly, self-assured, he replies, “I know a lot more than you think.”
“Doubtful. Very doubtful,” you assure.
Finally, you and Mia seem to shake him. He doesn’t follow you to your car door and he probably made the right call, because you were moments away from using the bottle of Sprite as a weapon. As you unlock the car, Mia leans against the side of it.
“What was that all about?”
You spare a glance back to The Wreck to find him stood there, glancing inside the building as if debating heading back, scratching the back of his neck. His misplaced confidence seems to have dwindled significantly. Ah, success.
“God knows."
“You know, I think that’s JJ Maybank. One of them Pogues who hangs out with John B,” Mia says.
JJ seems a fitting name for him, you think. You vaguely recall seeing the Pogues hanging around. Kiara from the academy seemed quite close with them. You watch as he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting up and taking a drag. Gross.
Pulling open your car door, you look back to Mia. “Come on. Let’s hang out at the beach.”
“Yeah, and far away from that nutjob,” she snorts, walking around the car to the passenger side.
As you go to climb in, you find yourself looking one final time to the entrance of the restaurant. The messy haired boy is nowhere to be found. Good riddance, you think to yourself. Happiness restored, you swing into the driver’s seat and shut the car door.
There was a rumour that your mum was in witness protection. That one was false.
You weren’t entirely sure how it got so late but it was nearly one in the morning. Having spent the past three hours studying, you’d sort of lost track of time. Your eyes nearly bugged out of your head when you’d checked your phone screen.
“Goddamn,” you mumble. Pushing away from your desk, you close your notebook and switch off your lamp.
Walking to the bathroom, you don’t bother closing the door. You know your dad’s asleep by now and with his own en-suite, there’d be no reason why he’d need to use this bathroom. Charlotte is probably asleep too: beauty rest and all that. You turn on the faucet and pull your hair out of your face. You wash and dry and reach for your toothbrush. That’s when Charlotte appears.
“Oh,” she startles. “Didn’t know you were still up.”
“Could say the same to you.”
You take in her pyjamas. They’re Roller Rabbit, selling at $150 a set. Pastel pink and plum purple, they sit sweetly on her dainty frame. You on the other hand are dressed in an oversized t-shirt that you got given for free at an indie film festival, and a pair of boxer-short bottoms.
“Cute pjs,” you tell her.
“Thanks. Daddy bought them for me,” she chirps.
Charlotte makes a b-line to the vanity. She opens the drawer and retrieves the tweezers. You watch her in the mirror as she tames her already perfect eyebrows. She makes eye contact with you through the reflections, taking in your own nightwear. “You could try a new look, you know? People might like you if you weren’t so hostile.”
“I’m not hostile,” you defend. You put toothpaste on your toothbrush, breaking the line of gaze. “I’m annoyed.”
“Potato potata. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if people didn’t like me.”
“You forget that I don’t care what people think,” you reply honestly. What would it matter if some thought you unwelcoming? Everyone ends up as bones in the ground anyway.
“Sure you do,” Charlotte says. “At least on some level.”
It’s too late in the night (or early in the morning) to argue. Instead, you start brushing your teeth. Charlotte goes on pimping and preening her appearance in the mirror silently. She produces a jade face roller and begins massaging her cheekbones and jawline. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes. As you’re rinsing out your mouth, you see Charlotte’s extensive skincare routine continue. If someone was to walk in, you’d think she was heading to the Oscars at the crack of dawn. She unbuttons the top two fastenings of her polo pyjama top and shrugs it down enough to reveal her collarbones, taking the effort to jade-roll them too. That’s when you notice the string of pearls around her neck.
“Nice pearls,” you comment, putting your toothbrush away. They did suit her, as did most delicate jewellery.
“Thanks.”
“Dad buy them for you too?”
“No,” she says. “They’re moms.”
Your stomach twists like a viper. “Moms?”
“Yeah. Daddy found them in a drawer last week.”
“And what? Now you’re just gonna start wearing them?” you say aghast, spinning around.
She frowns, looking over her shoulders. “It’s not like she’s coming back to claim them any time soon.”
You scoff. “You’re woefully missing the point.”
“Whatever,” Charlotte mumbles. She looks back to her reflection, smiling at herself, lifting a hand to fiddle with the small beads. “I think they look good on me.”
“Well trust me, they don’t,” you lie before promptly leaving the bathroom.
There was a rumour that you wrecked Rafe Cameron’s car. That one was true.
“Morning Lucy,” you greet, walking into An Offer You Can’t Refuse.
“Morning. Early start for a Saturday, don’t you think?” Lucy replies from behind the counter.
You shrug and shift your tote bag further up your shoulder. “Wanna get first dibs, I guess.”
“Well, all the new stuff is back there, like always,” she says, gesturing with her head to the far end of the store.
You were somewhat a regular at the shop. It was the only spot in town that sold old movies. Not old movies like the nineties. Old movies like the early 20th century: the black and white classics, with extravagant sets and telephone-voices and an untouchable charm that modern things just couldn’t quite capture. You weren’t a film snob exactly. You’d sit through a Marvel movie and tag along with Mia to see the latest cheap jump-scare horror. But those weren’t as gripping, as enthralling, as captivating as the classics. Somewhere along the way, you’d made it your life mission to see every old movie on earth.
Flicking through the cases, you pick out a couple that had been sat on your list. One was a thirty’s flick and the other from the sixties. Lucy settles up with you and you slot one in your bag. You keep the other out to read the back, scanning over the summary as you walk out the door.
“Nice car.”
Stunned, you stop and look up, finding none other than JJ Maybank. He’s sitting on the bonnet of your car with such carelessness that one would assume he owned it.
“Are you following me?” you outright ask.
He looks offended by the insinuation. Gesturing across the street, he says, “I was in the fishing shop. I saw your car and I came over to say hi.”
Rolling your eyes, you put your movie in your bag and continue to your car. “Hi.”
Before you can reach for the handle for the door, JJ slides over, effectively blocking it and forcing you to meet his gaze once more. You catch a whiff of his cologne. It smells more modest than some of the fancy crap the guys at school practically drown themselves in.
“You’re not much of a talker, are ya?”
“Depends on the topic. My car doesn’t really whip me up into a verbal frenzy,” you return, folding your arms across your chest.
JJ takes a moment simply watching you. It’s annoying. First, he interrupts your pleasant weekend by wiping his grubby cargo shorts all over your car, and now he’s trapped you in the most disinteresting conversation of all time. You quirk a brow, hoping that your displeasure reads plain and clear on your face.
“Can I help you?” you prompt, annoyed.
The smile he gives you is less cocky than usual. It’s almost curious. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
You frown. “Afraid of you? Why would I be afraid of you?”
He shrugs. “Well, most people are.”
“Well, I’m not,” you counter.
Whatever he was thinking before seems to have passed. His grin turns smug again, as quick and smooth as the moment dusk turns to flat-out night.
“Well, maybe you’re not afraid of me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked, huh?”
Oh, brother.
You gasp, feigning your fluster by lifting a hand to your sternum. “Am I that transparent? I want you, I need you, oh baby, oh baby.”
With that stellar performance, you practically shove him out the way whilst forcing the car door open. JJ seems to take the hint and backs off, shoving his hands in his short pockets. He watches you climb in your car and he pulls out a cigarette in the process. You’re half-surprised he doesn’t keep blabbering away. JJ doesn’t seem as wounded this time by your dismissal and you’re not sure whether that ticks you off more. As you glance in the rearview to reverse out the parking spot, none other than Rafe Cameron drives up behind you. He then parks illegally in the middle of the parking lot, blocking you in.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“What is it? Asshole day?”
Rafe shuts off his engine and walks past your car with a faux swagger in his stride. It makes you sick.
“Do you mind?” you loudly ask him as he goes by.
He doesn’t even spare you a glance. “Not at all.”
Your blood is bubbling under your skin, boiling up your nerves and burning up your patience. Doing one last glance at the Rafe’s back as he walks away from you, you don’t think twice before pulling your keys out the ignition. Getting out the car and slamming the door shut, you storm over to the ugly Mercedes. With the car key positioned between two fingers, you lean down slightly and dig it through the paint and into the metal, dragging it along in a satisfying streak. The sound is as pleasing as nails on a chalk board. One cut doesn’t seem to diffuse your anger enough, so you go in for a second. You debate doing a third but better to be safe than sorry. So, you pocket your keys and start walking home. You can pick up your car tomorrow. As you go to leave, you catch JJ’s impressed expression in the reflection of Rafe’s blacked out windows.
There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up at an outdoor movie night. That was completely false.
Over the dialogue over the movie, the swell of the orchestral music, and the mumbled chatter of friends and families, you can’t hear the soothing lap of the sea waves on the sand. That didn’t take away from the beauty of the scenery. Twilight had painted the sky in the most ethereal pinks, purples, oranges and blues. The boats which had taken anchor looked like shadows with how the sun had dipped. Huge trees framed the waterline cinematically. You can’t seem to help glancing at the view every now and then. It feels like something from a coffee table book. No wonder the beach was your mother's favourite place to be.
There were few island traditions which you liked, but the movie nights were one of your favourites. From March onwards, they ran bi-weekly. A huge screen would be put up in a lawn and people would come with deckchairs and picnic blankets and take up space on the grass. Snacks and cakes and drinks would be shared in the jovially calm atmosphere of the evening. There was a snack bar over near the bathrooms selling bags of candy and pre-prepared tubs of popcorn. When you hadn’t been shooting looks to the view, you’d been looking to the snack bar, debating buying some. At the rumble of your stomach, you relent.
“I’m gonna go get some snacks. Want anything?” you ask Mia in a whisper.
She doesn’t look away from the film when she shakes her head.
“Okay. Be right back.”
Standing up, you whisper out apologies to other movie-goers as you slink away from the lawn, venturing to the snack bar. It’s only when you’re seconds away do you recognise JJ Maybank. He’s wearing longer pants this time, still of the cargo material, and an old t-shirt that says Pelican Docks on the left breast. It looks well-worn at the sleeves. His hair is tucked under a cap. The most notable thing you pick up on is the fact that he isn’t smoking. Every other time you’ve seen him outside, he’s had one of those cancer sticks stuck between his lips. It’s annoying to admit to yourself that he looks good.
Ignoring him, you head straight to the girl manning the snack bar.
“A bag of Sour Patch kids please,” you smile, holding out a couple of dollar bills. She exchanges them for a bag of sweets. Candy in hand, you walk over to JJ.
“If you’re planning on asking me out again, you might as well get it over with,” you tell him, already disgruntled.
He looks away from the movie screen. “You mind? You’re kinda ruining this for me.”
You frown, glancing between himself and the film. “You like ‘Singing In The Rain’?”
JJ shrugs. “Course. Don’t you?”
The guilt from assuming is overshadowed by your curiosity. Before you can think of something to quiz him with, he’s talking again, eyes fixated on the actors.
“I mean, it’s no ‘Casablanca’ or ‘Some Like It Hot’, but I’ll take it,” he says casually.
Your eyebrows must shoot up into your hairline. “You know the movie ‘Some Like It Hot’?”
“No doy. It’s a classic,” JJ says. “Jack Lemmon is a natural in roles like that. It’s kinda rogue of me to say but I gotta admit, I think he’s better in that than in The Odd Couple.”
The question ‘you know The Odd Couple?’ is on the tip of your tongue but it’s silenced by a loud crash in the movie, catching your attention. You watch the theatrics of Cosmo as he performs ‘Make Them Laugh’, and you can’t help but smile. It’s one of your favourite parts of the movie.
“You know, I saw you earlier and I was gonna come over,” JJ admits, drawing your gaze to him once more. “I’ve never seen anyone look so sexy without even trying.”
The pre-teen at the counter snorts, clearly having overheard. When you and JJ look to her at the same time, she flushes bright pink and presses her lips together in embarrassment. It makes you laugh though, and when you look back to JJ, he’s holding back too. The sunset and reflection of the screen is painting his face in a youthful glow. The smile on his lips seems more genuine than before; it’s no longer bolstered up with ostentatious flare. His self-assured demeanour remains though. You can see it in how relaxed he stands, shoulders loose and back.
“You’re not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke.”
“Yeah, I quit. Turns out they’re bad for you,” JJ says.
“You think?” you mirthfully reply.
Come with me to the keggar tomorrow night,” JJ asks out of the blue.
You don’t roll your eyes this time. In fact, you’re not even annoyed. Instead, you find your smile growing. “You never give up, do you?”
“Is that a yes?”
You chuckle under breath, passing your candy bag between hands and turning to return to Mia. "No."
You begin to walk away.
“Well, is that a no then?” JJ calls. Someone shushes him abruptly.
Sniggering, you call back, “no!”
“Nine tomorrow night! I’ll pick you up!”
“Hey, shut it, man!”
“Sorry, dude. Jeez,” you hear JJ mumble.
You bite back your laugh, making your way back to the film. Mia is waiting impatiently for you. Taking your spot on the blanket again, you fight the urge to look back over your shoulder to JJ. She takes the bag of candy despite her earlier turn-down.
“What took you so long? You missed the best song,” she whispers.
You shake your head and steal a gummy, eyes fixating on the screen again. “Doesn’t matter.”
And then, you’re lost to the cinema.
There was a rumour that you threw up on JJ’s shoes at the keggar. That one was (unfortunately) true.
You know you’ve made a mistake braving going downstairs for a snack the moment your foot hits the final step.
“Daddy, it’s only for one night!”
Charlotte is there, whinging away, stood beside her friend Laura. You didn’t like Charlotte all that much but you liked Laura even less. Whilst Charlotte was losing her sense of humanity bit by bit, Laura was a hollowed-out husk dressed head to toe in Shien. Maybe if she had a stellar personality you wouldn’t care, but she didn’t. She was cruel, two-faced and you trusted her as far you could throw her. So, you were obviously thrilled to find her stood in your house.
“You know anything about a party?” you dad asks you, roping you unwillingly into the conversation.
You shrug, shaking your head no.
“Of course she doesn’t know, she’s a cave troll,” Charlotte snarls.
“That’s a new one,” you mutter under breath, starting for the kitchen.
“If she isn’t going, you’re not going,” your dad tells Charlotte.
“Urgh!” Charlotte exasperates. She rushes over to you, taking you by the shoulders and forcing you to meet her gaze. You’re a little surprised to find how genuinely desperate she is to leave the house for a dumb keggar. “Can you please forget that you’re completely wicked and just be my sister for one night. Please.”
You suck your teeth, feeling your conviction dwindle. Suddenly the half-completed page of notes about maths drops in your priorities. Charlotte seems to notice. The puppy-dog eyes come out in full effect - the ones that she used to get the new Mac book and the ones that she used to get your old pair of converse when they suddenly became trendy again.
“Please,” she begs, doubling down.
You sigh, shaking your head as if in disbelief of your own actions. “Fine, I can make an appearance.”
Charlotte looks over to Laura and they begin to squeal, hopping up and down like the floor is lava. You realise that she’s wearing the pearls still, but before you can think much more about it, you’re trapped in a hug. Everything tenses, from your head to your toes, and it isn’t over soon enough. You open the downstairs cupboard and retrieve a jacket to combat the spring breeze that’s likely going to haunt the beach at this hour. Your dad is lecturing Charlotte and Laura as you shrug it on; you pass them to the door.
It's a little frightening to open the front door and come face to face with someone who you’re not expecting to be there.
“What are you doing here?” is the first thing out of your mouth when you meet JJ’s eyes.
“Nine o’clock, right?” he replies.
It’s impossible to bite back the smile that’s coming to your face at the sound of his voice. When did that start to happen?
“Well, I’m little late, so,” he admits almost sheepishly.
You blink out of your stupor with that. A man who can’t even be on time for a date that he practically begged for – once again, the bar is on the floor.
“Whatever, I’m driving,” you tell him, brushing past and down the porch steps. He follows.
“Nice digs here.”
“Thanks,” you reply. You pull open the front gate and it creaks like it might snap off any moment.
“Y’all rich and can’t afford to oil that damn thing?"
“Help yourself to it,” you jokingly quip back. You pull your keys out your coat pocket and unlock the car. “Hop in.”
The drive to the keggar is mostly quiet. JJ points out the turnings you need to take and you refuse to let him turn on the radio. He goes to put one leg up on the car seat but must see your sideways glare, making him stop. Instead, he rests an arm on the window frame and taps his fingers along to a non-existent beat.
He’s dressed rather nice. Quite casual, but you supposed for a keggar, it didn’t much matter. It wasn’t like you were dressed to the nines either. A grey sweater hangs slightly big on his frame, but it sits on his broad shoulders a little too nicely. He’s wearing a pair of black cargo shorts which are muddied with dust on the thigh, probably from biking, and those damn cargo boots again. No cap this time, he lets his blonde hair sit mussed, seemingly from running his fingers through it. That’s something he seems to do. A lot.
When the two of you park up, the beach is already buzzing. It’s swarming with people from your school and his, yapping away to one another. People are passing drinks and passing out. Some are carrying coolers in and others are shot-gunning the moment their feet touch the sand. Sighing, you mentally prepare yourself for a hellish night.
JJ tries to walk beside you but you seem to be one step ahead every time. He takes to following your tail around the keggar as you survey the scene. A girl vomiting in the corn; a group passing around a bong; a group of horny dirtbags jeering and cheering as two girls make out. A brunette girl comes stumbling over, practically throwing herself at JJ.
“Kiss me,” she slurs, clearly hammered.
JJ doesn’t look too thrilled but it doesn’t keep you from rolling your eyes and continuing on.
“Not tonight, girly,” you overhear him say. You then hear his footsteps behind you once more.
His popularity among the Pogues is startling. Soon enough, someone else is coming up to him, followed by a third. You overhear good-humoured conversation kick up, spirits high, and the smacking of hands as they enact a brief handshake. It seems a good opportunity to ditch him.
The moment of freedom is over quicker than the final week of summer. Rafe Cameron, in all his knobheaded glory, saunters over.
“Didn’t peg you as a keggar girl,” he tells you. Even on the night, you can’t catch a break from him.
“You know me: full of surprises,” you return dryly.
“Surprising in that outfit too. Nice to see the puppies out today,” he says, licking his teeth as his eyes shamelessly flit down to your top.
You roll your eyes. “Eat crap creep.”
Rafe doesn’t seem to be finished. He follows after you leisurely when you walk around him. “Your little sister coming tonight?”
“Stay away from her, Rafe,” you warn.
“Oh, sure, sure, I’ll stay away,” he nods, raising his hands in mock surrender. The most wicked, twisted grin sinks into his skin. “But I can’t promise she’ll stay away from me.”
Your disgust must read plainly on your face. Rafe chuckles darkly, apparently finished with the interaction, and you watch as he makes his way over to his pack. You shiver out your repugnance and distract yourself by making another lap of the keggar, hoping to find your sister in the process.
Unfortunately, you’re not quick enough to get to her before Rafe. He’s fiddling with a strand of her hair, looking down at her in a way that she might think is doting but you can only read as looming. Your stomach sinks as he notices you, jutting up his chin proudly.
“Yo. Look who found me,” he taunts.
Intestines are now in your shoes as you spot his hand looping around her waist and laying grip. Charlotte tangles her fingers into his, a red solo up in her other hand, and goes to lead the two of them away. You quickly dart after her.
“Charlotte, wait, can I talk to you?”
“Don’t address me in public,” she hisses, horrified.
You hope your expression is as pleading as hers was earlier, but it mustn’t be, because she continues to move away from you.
“Go, enjoy the night,” Charlotte says. She probably thinks she’s being nice, putting your mind at ease, but it makes you all the more concerned. “That’s what I’m gonna do.”
Looking around as if something or someone might tell you what to do next, your eyes fixate on the coolers. You soon find yourself taking a swig of tequila. It burns as it runs down your throat; you close your eyes with wince.
“I’ve been looking all over the place for you!”
You open them to find a very disquieted JJ.
“I’m getting trashed bro,” you reply, lifting the bottle up in proof. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at a party?”
“Not with that crap,” JJ replies.
Rolling your eyes, you take another shot. “Whatever. I’ll catch you later.”
Then you’re walking away from him and weaving through the crowds. The trashy RnB music playing over a loudspeaker thumps through the sand and rattles through your bones. You find yourself collecting drinks like a pre-teen collects trading cards. With each sip, the alcohol goes down easier and easier, and your control becomes lesser and lesser. You’re only half sure of the time. Nobody here looks familiar to you and you have no idea where Charlotte has gone. The thought of her with Rafe has you reaching for another drink but it’s taken from you before the bottle can meet your lips.
“Hey!”
“How about I have this one?” JJ offers.
You snatch it back. “No way, this one’s mine.”
Was that your voice? Jeez, maybe you’re more drunk than you thought. That doesn’t keep you from necking the whole thing, some dumbass cheering you on. Dumping the bottle in the sand, you pull a face to JJ, extending out your arms as if to say ‘see – what you gonna do about it?’ .
The makeshift dancefloor becomes randomly appealing. The rhythm of the music seems to have finally crept out of the ground and into your bones, and you stagger your way to the crowd of dancing, swaying drunks and begin to move to the music. Closing your eyes, you drag your hands up your sides and into the air, hips dipping and diving to the song. It isn’t your usual thing but you find the groove to it. The reason you lose it is the elbow that suddenly jams into your back. You wince in pain and tumble forward, balance screwed from all the drinks. The ground comes to meet you surprisingly quick and you don’t have time to put your hands out to save your head from hitting a stuck-out branch from driftwood.
“You alright?”
It’s JJ.
“I’m fine,” you slur.
When you go to stand, everything is spinning. It makes you slip in the sand and nearly face plant a second time.
“You’re not fine. Alright, come on,” JJ mumbles as his hands gently take your biceps. You grumble out complaints as he helps you off the ground.
The music drifts away from you as JJ guides you somewhere. The shakiness of the world makes you feel nauseous so you opt with keeping your eyes closed. There’s a throbbing from where you hit your head.
“Can I talk to you?” someone asks. You don't open your eyes to find out who.
“Not right now, man. I’m a little busy,” you hear JJ return, patience clearly dwindling.
“Can you give me a second?”
The firm but friendly hold JJ has on you momentarily vanishes. You hear the crunch of sand as he walks away a few steps but you’re too busy fighting to keep yourself upright to see where he’s gone. Just as you’re about to lose the fight, JJ’s back, catching you and steadying you on your feet.
“Woah, woah,” he chuckles. “Come on.”
As the mayhem of the party fades, you find the pounding in your head to lessen. You’re slowly lowered to sit on a piece of driftwood.
“This is so patronising.”
“Leave it to you to use big words when you’re smashed,” JJ says.
Braving to open your eyes, you find JJ digging around in his cargo pockets. “Why are you helping me?”
“I’m worried you might got a concussion,” he tells you. He produces a small box from his pocket, no bigger than the palm of his hand, and he cracks it open.
“You wouldn’t care if I never wake up,” you snort. The scrunch of your brows has you reaching up to the stinging pain of your head wound. Before you can touch at it, JJ’s pulling your hand away by the wrist.
“Sure I would.”
“Why?”
“Cause otherwise I’d have to start taking out girls who actually like me.”
“Like you could find one.”
“See? That right there, makin’ me swoon, mama,” JJ ribs. He reaches out for your face then. “Alright, this might sting a little.”
His fingers are warm as they touch your skin. He lightly coaxes your head up and back by the edge of your jaw. You watch with half-blurred vision as he concentrates, gently dapping what must be an alcoholic wipe to your cut.
JJ has a pretty face. Dimples that are visible even when he isn’t smiling. A soft jawline that sharpens when he’s flexing, whether it be in concentration or aggravation. The long slender nose sits nicely on his face, guiding into surprisingly neat eyebrows and eyes with lashes so long Charlotte would cry with envy.
The wipe hits the deepest point of the wound. Flinching back, you hiss in pain.
“Sorry,” JJ mumbles.
“S’okay,” you quietly reply.
He finishes dabbing the blood away and sighs, pulling the wipe back. JJ seems to notice your stare at that point, flitting his eyes down to meet yours.
“What?”
“Your eyes have a little grey in them,” you observe.
His lips twitch in a smile. Maybe it’s the warmth of the booze, but you’re half sure that the boy blushes. Your eyes glance down to his lips, the one part of his face you haven’t yet analysed. JJ clears his throat and removes his hand from your head. He litters the wipe on the beach floor and shoves his hands in his short pockets, creating some distance. He doesn’t move any farther away from you though.
“How’d you know to do all that?”
“Cleaning cuts?”
“Mhm,” you say.
“Kinda have to learn, when you grow up in a house like mine,” JJ vaguely replies.
You spare a glance at his side profile to find his eyes trained ahead in an almost vacant stare. He comes back to himself, looking at you.
“So, uh, why’d you let him get to you?”
“Who? Rafe?”
“Uh huh.”
“I hate him,” you state.
JJ purses his lips and nods. “Fair ‘nough.”
Someone whoops out to another in the far distance. You try to ignore it, instead focusing on the susurrus of the wind, the sighs of the sea, and the steady inhales and exhales of the boy sitting beside you.
“So, your mom a nurse or something?” you ask.
“My ma?”
“Yeah. With the cut cleaning and all that.”
“Nah, she ain’t a nurse,” JJ replies. “Fact, I don’t know what she is. She ain’t around anymore.”
“That sucks,” you say.
He shrugs. “Happened a long time ago. She walked out on us so guess there can’t be much to miss, right?”
“I guess,” you agree, though you’re not sure if you fully do. For some reason – maybe because of the alcohol blurring your barriers – you find yourself telling him, “My mom walked out on us too.”
“Really?”
You nod, and instantly regret it.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It gave the yacht club something to talk about for like a year,” you say, cracking a smile.
JJ grins. “You Kooks gotta have your gossip.”
“Oh yeah,” you whistle, nodding. “Otherwise we’d actually have to start making conversation about shit that matters. Or realise how little we all like each other.”
The two of you laugh and lock eyes. His dimples are now out in full force, teeth shining in the off-cast street lamp glow and enchanting moonlight.
“You know, you’re not as vile as I thought you’d be.”
His smile only grows. “Thanks. I think?”
The pulsating pain in your head seems to vanish for a moment. You think it’s because of JJ and his weirdly wonderful ways. You think it is, until you realise it’s because your body is distracted by a whole new problem.
Head whipping down, you aim away from your shoes and somehow directly at JJ’s.
And then bam: vomit.
There was a rumour that you and JJ hooked up in the back of your car. That one was false.
It’s abnormal seeing JJ sat behind your steering wheel. His elbow is propped up on the window ledge, knuckles cracked as he grips the wheel at the top, guiding it with the other hand. You keep stealing glances. He focuses ahead on the road. It’s pitch-black asides from the glare of the headlights and the few and far between streetlamps. You’re not entirely sure how you got to this point with him, to have him driving your car and to find yourself completely okay with it.
The playlist that the radio is humming out changes to the next song. You instantly feel your body soften in the passenger seat with the swell of violins and cellos. Naturally, gradually, they find a melody. It’s solemn and serene all at once.
“I love this song,” you hear yourself say.
“What is it?”
“Love Theme, from Cinema Paradiso,” you reply.
JJ’s lips twitch with curiosity. “Never heard of it.”
“It’s my favourite piece of music of all time,” you tell him. “It makes me cry.”
“Really? Don’t know if any song’s ever made me cry.”
“Then you’re listening to the wrong things,” you're quick assert.
JJ chuckles at that, but he doesn’t disagree.
The piano chimes in now; steady waltz-like chords which complement the strings flawlessly. You sigh and watch the world pass by through the window. After throwing up, draining the alcohol from your body in the least flattering of ways, you feel more stable. There’s still a blur to the edge of the world hinting that you’re not fully sober but you no longer feel out of control. The three mints which you had the moment you got in the car helped to freshen your mouth.
“It’s a pretty song,” JJ observes. You’re surprised that he’s listening to it. “Is it meant to be happy?”
“Sort of. It’s the third version. There’s three reprises of the song throughout the film. The movie’s sort of a culmination of genres. It’s a love story about Salvatore and Elena, this girl who he’s completely infatuated with throughout his teens. But it doesn’t work out. It’s also about his relationship with Alfredo, this old man who runs the cinema. Salvatore falls in love with cinema and Alfredo is like a father figure to him. As he grows up, he’s pushed to leave the small town and live his life.”
JJ whistles lowly. “That’s a lot’a unpack.”
“Sorry,” you meekly reply. Maybe you rambled on a bit too much.
“Don’t be. It’s interesting,” JJ says.
You glance over to him and see him smiling, and you struggle to bite back your own, looking back to the road.
“You seem to have a thing for movies,” JJ notes.
“I love them,” you sigh, pushing your hair behind your ears. The music builds at that moment, with the wind instruments taking control of the melody and pushing the emotion to another level. You find your eyes slipping shut on reflex. It’s with them closed that you find the confidence to admit, “I want to write movies for a living. But nothing like the new crappy things. Films like the old ones. The ones with real emotion and meaning behind them. I’m so sick of the cheap rewrites and remakes. All the CGI junk that fills the cinema now and the empty scores.”
“So, why don’t you? Write movies, I mean?”
As JJ asks you this question, he pulls up outside your house.
You scoff. “Yeah, my dad would just love that. He wants me to go to school for accounting or economics. Something with ‘a future’.”
The engine shuts off but the song continues to play. JJ glances down at the radio, his eyes scanning over the song title. He seems lost in thought, or perhaps lost in the music, and you feel a small smile settle comfortably on your face. He’s so pretty in this light. He’s pretty in any light.
He seems to remember himself, coming out of his stupor in a similar manner to how he did back on the beach. Looking up to you, JJ catches your gaze. He reflexively switches off the radio, cutting the song off and enveloping the two of you in silence.
“You uh,” he begins, gesturing lamely to the house, “don’t seem the type to ask for your dad’s permission.”
“Oh what? Now you think you know me all of a sudden?” Your tone is teasing. It’s so different to the usual bite it has from your other interactions.
JJ shrugs. “I think I’m starting to.”
The honesty behind his words has your lips parting, somewhat taken aback. The bad-boy façade that he hides behind seems to have slipped tonight. You hold his gaze and he offers you a warm, tender smile. There’s a nervous yet excitable thrum in your chest. It's terrifying.
“Yeah, well, the only thing people know about me is that I’m scary,” you say dismissively.
“Well, I’m no picnic myself, so,” JJ muses.
And it’s things like that which catch you off guard. Your efforts to push him away and close him off are so easily dismissed. He seems to have a talent for peeling away your walls and it never feels intrusive. Instead, it makes you feel seen. Understood. It’s something that you haven’t really known since your mom walked out. Mia understood you to an extent, but you weren’t sure that she knew you. You weren’t sure if you’d ever let her, as awful as it sounds.
“Well, thank you. For driving me back,” you quietly say.
JJ nods. His eyes never stray from yours. He’s so beautiful it’s unfair.
“Course. Anytime.”
He takes a breath and it’s shaky, tempered with nerves, and that’s when you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours. If his stomach is full of butterflies too, bringing about the most addictive of anxieties. As his tongue darts out to dampen his lips, you find yourself taking the leap. Slowly, so slow that you’re not sure you even are, you lean forward to him, letting your eyes slip shut. In the moonlight, in your car, after the conversations of the night, you finally feel as though you have seen the real JJ, and he’s seen the real you.
A second passes.
Then another.
Then a third.
You hear the rustle of clothes and the creak of the car seat as JJ shifts. It makes you open your eyes. He’s watching his fingers trail along the leather grip of the steering wheel, knuckles uncomfortably tight and lips rubbing together.
“Maybe we should do this another time,” he eventually says.
For a moment, you just sit. You take him in. He doesn’t appear cocky or disgusted, or even amused. He seems timorous. It’s so confusing and irritating that you find yourself defaulting to anger. It’s that anger that smothers the burning hot embarrassment you feel deep in your chest. It conceals the crumbling disappointment of not having his lips on yours. Suddenly, you want to be as far away from him as possible.
You scoff and push open the car door. It slams loudly behind you as you storm back up to the house, arms wrapping around yourself in comfort as you feel your heart painfully pulling at your throat. The sting of tears is hard to fight but you manage to keep them at bay until you’re in your bedroom. It’s there that you feel safe enough to cry.
There was a rumour that JJ tracked you down in a movie shop. That one was true.
Have you ever had so much on your mind that it’s physically impossible to concentrate, even on the simplest of things? Ever since the keggar three days ago, that’s how you’ve felt. Studying was more gruelling than usual. You would start reading an exert from Romeo and Juliet and somehow, you’d find your mind drifting to the sound of JJ’s voice on the beach, telling you about his mom. Watching movies was no longer an escape because any guy on screen had you back in the passenger seat, basking in JJ’s beauty. Even now, stood in An Offer You Can’t Refuse, you find yourself staring blankly at the back of a DVD case, trying to make sense of the blurb.
Sighing, you give up and shelve it. You wander back to the main throughway of the store and look at some of the more recent releases. Tugging your cardigan tighter around you, you round the end of the shelve, heading for the exit, to instead come face to face with JJ.
It’s a shame that your stomach twists unpleasantly at the sight of him.
“Excuse me, have you seen ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s?’ I’ve lost my copy?”
You hold back a grunt and opt to roll your eyes instead. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard there was a secret screening,” JJ tells you, humour lining his words.
You scoff. “You’re so…”
“Charming?” he offers.
You breeze past him.
“Wholesome!”
“Unwelcome,” you correct.
“You’re not as mean as you think you are, you know,” JJ suddenly tells you, tone taking an edge.
Mystified, you return, “and you’re not as badass as you think you are.”
“Oh, somebody’s still got their panties in a twist,” JJ quips.
Spinning around, you raise a finger threateningly. “Do not for one second think you had any effect whatsoever on my panties.”
JJ lightly taps your hand away. “What did I have an effect on then?”
It’s moments like these that you’re thankful your mouth is quicker than your mind. “Other than my upchuck reflex, nothing,” you lie.
JJ sighs, frustrated.
In the corner of your eye, you see the movies of the week. The universe works perfectly sometimes. Snatching up a copy, you shove Breakfast at Tiffany's in JJ’s chest before leaving the shop.
It sucks to be mad at JJ. You don’t want to be, but you don’t know how not to be. The whole night felt like an oxymoron. There was a moment when things felt so perfect and then he shattered it. It was abnormal. All that hard work to get you out on a date; the time taken caring for you and driving you back, checking you got home safe; and the conversations that felt far from empty and false…And then nothing. You knew JJ wasn’t a virgin. Not all rumours are based in truth – you knew that – but when it came to JJ Maybank, it was common knowledge that he had a way with girls. You weren’t the first girl for him to lay eyes on, and you certainly wouldn’t be the first girl he’d kiss, so why did he suddenly seem so discouraged? It didn’t make sense.
Whatever.
You close the car door and start up your engine.
You had more important things to sort out than deliberating over JJ’s intentions. Since when had a man ever interrupted your life before? There were some math notes which needed finishing back at home, and a track meet practice to prepare for tomorrow. Life was bigger than some pretty teenage boy.
Catching your eyes in the rearview mirror, you harden your gaze. “Get a grip.”
Your day doesn’t seem to improve when you get home. Whilst you’ve managed to put thoughts of JJ to bed, letting the irritation rest, your dad seems unwilling to give you peace. You walk through the door to hear himself and Charlotte talking animatedly about the Spring Ball at the yacht club.
“I’m not sure,” your dad sighs.
“But daddy, I’ve gone to them before.”
“But this one’s different. The guys there are older now. You’re older now. After last year, and our reputation, I’m just…”
The creaking floorboard before the kitchen doorway gives you away. Charlotte jumps at the chance to lasso you in.
“What if she comes?”
“She has a name,” you mutter, heading to the cupboard for a snack.
“I mean, if your sister goes then you can go, but I doubt she will.”
“She will what?” you ask. Cereal bar in hand, you tug away the wrapper and take a bite.
“Go to the Spring Ball.”
You guffaw loudly. “Yeah. No.”
“Knew it,” your dad says.
“Oh, come on! What’s wrong with the Spring Ball?” Charlotte carps.
You roll your eyes. “They’re stupid and performative and in bad taste. And old-fashioned. It just makes me feel icky. Whilst the Cut are trying to raise money to renovate the parks, we’re throwing balls for the fun of it. Plus, they’re boring. It’s just a bunch of rich morons talking about other rich morons. No offence, dad.”
“Plenty taken,” mutters your dad.
“You’re exhausting,” Charlotte tells you. “And unhinged.”
“Thanks,” you grin before taking another bite of your snack. You go to leave. “I’ll be upstairs.”
There was a rumour that JJ snuck into your school. That one was true.
You started running track following your school guidance counsellor’s advice. It was after you kneed Kelce so hard in the balls that he had to go to the nurse (you pride yourself for that achievement daily). Track was a good way to let off steam though. The world felt smaller and simpler on the circuit. You felt as though you could run away from all the things that were bothering you: Rafe, your dad, Charlotte, your mom. And now, JJ. The steady beat of your feet hitting the sand-topped track works like a metronome for your musings.
You’d heard the rumours that had been circulating about the night of the keggar. Charlotte hadn’t told you what happened between herself and Rafe, but there was a rumour that he didn’t drive her home. Apparently, someone called Louis had given her a ride back. You’d seen him at school every now and then. He’d only transferred a few months back so there wasn’t much to know about him. He seemed harmless enough though. Compared to Rafe, a rabid dog would be preferred.
“Good pace!” your coach praises loudly to you as you complete a third lap.
You’re panting in the warm sun. April was right around the corner now and the temperature was picking up, bit by bit, every day. Slowing to a jog, you direct yourself to the benches and retrieve your water bottle.
As your swallowing your third sip, you hear the loudspeaker system crackle to life. At first you don’t pay it much mind, assuming it’s one of the band members checking everything is working for a game tomorrow night or something. But then a voice is droning out of the speakers. It has a Carolina twang to it that is more common on the Cut and a youthful rasp that’s now all too familiar.
JJ.
‘Morning you wonderful Kook folks.’
You stare wide-eyed at the speaker.
‘Y’all are probably busy preparing your caviar or whatever the hell it is that you be doing out here on Figure Eight, but I’m here to read something I prepared. Brighten up your day and all that.’
Surely you have heatstroke. Surely this is not happening.
“’I’ve come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.’”
Sense and Sensibility. You glance around the field as if to check that you’re not the only one hearing this and - yep, you’re not.
“‘Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.’”
Dirty Dancing. Lips twitching into a smile, you’re in disbelief. Some people are sniggering at the cheesiness, others are completely befuddled by the whole thing. It is rather random. If you didn’t know what he was doing, you’d be confused too. Well, you still are, in fact. Did he know you'd be at the track today?
“And my personal favourite, ladies and gentlemen: ‘No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing. Badly. That’s what’s wrong with you. You should be kissed and often, and by someone who knows how.’”
Your perplexed smile turns more sober with that. Something trills in your chest – most probably your heart – and you nod in quiet approval.
“Alright then, Kooks and…Kooklemen. Y’all have a blessed day.”
The speaker clicks off with a crackle and some people on the field whoop and cheer, laughing and jeering. You shake your head and finish your drink, grinning like an idiot.
Maybe, just maybe, you can find some room to give JJ another chance.
There was a rumour that JJ Maybank spent his free time fishing. That one was true.
JJ Maybank was like a candy bar. He had a way of being sweet without being sickly, and he stayed on your mind the same way one gets chocolate stuck between their teeth. After asking around, you’re told that the best place to find the so-called delinquent was at a local fishing spot, down some old jetty. The floorboards creak unnervingly with every step you take. The sun is high in the sky, it only being mid-morning, and you find JJ easily. He’s perched on the end of the jetty, leaning forward against the rotting wooden railing. In one hand he’s supporting a rod, the wire of which is submerged deep in the water, waiting for a bite. There’s a small cooler by his feet alongside a bag of fishing tack. The back of his t-shirt has a large circular graphic on it. It’s well washed but you can make out the ‘sex-wax’ text.
“Yo,” you call out.
He startles then turns. There’s a strange flurry of emotions that cross over his face in a second when he lays eyes on you.
“Hey. How’d you find me?”
“I have my ways,” you reply, finishing the journey to him.
JJ moves so his back rests against the fence, body now facing you, and you pause a comfortable foot or so apart.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh?”
“I was kind’a an asshole at the movie store, the other day,” you say, uncomfortable in your confession. The proud twitch of his brow doesn't go unnoticed. “So, I figured it was only right to fess up.”
“Mhm. Anything in particular brought this on?” JJ wonders innocently.
You smile at that, rolling your eyes. Nevertheless, you play along. “You know, it’s so weird. This voice came over the speakers at school yesterday and it got me thinking.”
“Oh? You know who it was?”
“I don’t know,” you sigh, scratching your hairline. “Maybe God?”
“You sure it weren’t an angel?” he checks, tongue poking through his teeth with his boyish grin.
“Nah, but he sure had the voice of one,” you play along.
The entertained lift of JJ’s brows makes your smile flatten into something more genuine.
“Did you get in trouble for it?”
“For breaking into Kook Academy and hacking your intercom?” JJ asks. His face scrunches up as he shakes his head falsely. “Nah.”
“Mhm. Sure.”
“I’m a pro, sweetheart. I was in and out, like an ops-mission,” he recounts, using his free hand to gesture lamely like a discount spy.
You roll your eyes once more and move to stand next to him, separated only by the cooler. Leaning your arms forward on the jetty fence, you sigh and close your eyes, basking in the sun.
“What’re you doing right now?”
“Right now?” you say, opening your eyes to look at him. He nods. “Nothing much.”
“Wanna go to the break? Hear the waves are meant to be pretty sweet today,” JJ asks.
Your lips twitch at the corners. His seem to mirror. “Sure, yeah. Sounds good.”
“Sweet. Lemme just pack this stuff up,” he says. “My friend’s lent me his car for the day so we can ride there in that.”
There was a rumour that you nearly drowned when you went surfing with JJ. That one was completely made up.
The water is so blue you can almost taste it. The gradient of blues and aquamarines is mouthwatering in beauty.
Sighing, your feet sink into the sand, desensitised to the burn on the soles of your feet. On one shoulder you have your rucksack. It’s packed with snacks that the two of you picked up from a local shop: granola bars and a large back of chips, that sort of thing. JJ found some cans of soda when turfing through the cooler. Tucked under your other arm is a surfboard that JJ’s letting you borrow; there were three attached to the roof of the beat-up camper van he’s borrowing. JJ’s carrying a tattered looking picnic blanket that he dragged off the backseats and his own board. It seems JJ’s surfboard is the thing that is the best kept out of all the belongings he has.
JJ whistles. “Pretty good swell, huh?”
“Hell yeah,” you agree.
He walks in front and dumps the picnic blanket, lazily spreading it out with his foot. You put the rucksack down with it before leaning down to place your board carefully on the sand. As you go to stand, you find your eyes falling on JJ’s back. He’s tugging off his shirt, lats and triceps tensing and relaxing with the quick change. You can’t help but stare. The guy’s in good shape – nobody can disagree with that. He turns and catches your eye just before you can divert your gaze to the water, frowning as if assessing the waves. There’s an amused smirk that comes to his face, cocky like always.
“Enjoying the view?” he asks.
Your face scrunches in deliberation. You pretend that he’s referring to the sea. “Yeah; the waves look pretty strong.”
“Mhm,” he hums, entertained.
It’s then that you decide to seek some revenge. Casually, like the whole situation doesn’t make your heartbeat with elated anxiety, you pull your top off, revealing a crotchet-style bikini top. Living in Kildare meant that bikinis instead of underwear were sort of a given. Unbuttoning your shorts, you wiggle them down your body before stepping out and tossing them on the blanket. Glancing up, acting as if you’d completely forgotten JJ was there, you quirk a brow. He’s staring shamelessly at your body.
“Something up?”
“Not yet,” he mumbles.
It’s hard to bite back your smile. Hard, but not impossible. Dipping down to retrieve the board, you strain a little as you lift it.
“Come on. We’re wasting daylight,” you tell him, walking past towards the water.
“Yes ma’am,” you hear him say.
The crunch of sand behind you tells you he’s following. Then, his pace picks up and he’s rushing past, taking a moment to dab at your head jokingly.
“Hey!”
His laugh is light like buttercream frosting. You chase after him, towards the break, and soon enough you’re sliding atop of your board and paddling through the wake. JJ’s just a bit ahead. His back glistens in the sunlight with saltwater. You swallow your pride and dignity and let your eyes trail up his legs and butt. The water makes his clothes stick more than usual. He steadily rises to his feet, finding his balance on the board in such a natural manner that one would think he was born on it. The way he leans forward and back is effortless. He tames the waves like a creature of the sea, dipping on the currents and following the dives. You can’t help but sit up on your board for a moment and watch. His face is tight with concentration but the joy is as clear as the water. The sharp edge of his jawline teases you as you watch him surf. The tremble of your heart and knot in your stomach isn’t unfamiliar and yet it still catches you by surprise. To distract yourself, you paddle out some more before rising to your feet.
You know the old saying ‘time flies when you’re having fun’? You never much believed it until today. The two of you must have been on the water for an hour. Somehow, simultaneously, the two of you agree that it’s time to call it off. The scratchy over-washed cotton of the blanket is only slightly uncomfortable on your legs as you sit. JJ takes your rucksack and digs about for a snack. You opt for taking in the quietness of the beach; it feels as though you’re the only souls for miles.
“Who’s this?” JJ asks.
You glance over to find JJ holding up a photo he’d taken from your wallet. A part of you wants to make a jab about how he’s snooping around, but you don’t. Instead, you smile weakly.
“My mom.”
“Oh,” JJ says, looking back down at the photo with new interest. “She’s pretty. Can see where you get your looks from.”
“Thanks,” you smile.
JJ reaches back into the back and pulls a can of soda free. He tosses it to you and you crack it open.
“I go through phases of having it in there,” you say, nodding down to the photo that he continues to hold. “Sometimes I want it around and other times I don’t. I know that probably sounds dumb.”
“No, it doesn’t,” JJ responds rather easily.
He tucks the photo back away in the wallet, safe and sound, then grabs a can of sofa for himself. He reclines on his elbows. Your eyes fixate on the shark tooth necklace hung around his neck on a discoloured piece of yarn. It rises and falls with each steady breath he takes. As your eyes trail down his stomach, you notice the water droplets drying in the sunlight. In a desperate effort not to stare, you find yourself watching him crack his feet, outstretching them on the sand. Crossing your legs, you take a sip of your soda and glance back up to his face. Then, you follow JJ’s line of sight to the water. The routine of the waves pulling in and pulling back, over and over, is calming in a way few other things are. As the sky’s mosaic of colour darkens by the minute, the water reflects it back like a mirror with a pretty shimmer.
“Sometimes I wish I had a photo of my ma.”
“Don’t you?” you ask, looking to him again.
He shakes his head. “My dad went on this crazy rager when she left and burnt up all her stuff. I was too young and stupid to take a photo for myself and hide it somewhere.”
“Bold of you to assume that you’re not still those things.”
JJ snorts, shooting you a glance. “Thanks.”
You smile back but correct your manners. “Seriously though, that sucks. I’m sorry.” It’s a lame understatement for the reality of it, but it’s all you can think to say. Tenderness isn’t something that comes very naturally for you.
He shrugs, looking back to the water. You know he’s trying to act like it doesn’t bother him, and maybe if you’d only met yesterday, you’d believe it, but there’s something about his composure that tells you that it isn’t true.
“I just wish I could remember what she looks like, y’know?” he says, looking to you once more as if seeking affirmation. You give a small nod. “I mean, I can’t even remember her voice. Not that it should matter. Fuck her, right? She’s the one who left.”
He takes a hasty sip of his soda, breaking eye contact. You frown and watch him, and deliberate whether to speak your mind. I mean, of course you’re going to, but it feels good to deliberate first.
“Well, no, not ‘fuck her’,” you eventually say.
JJ looks to you, eyebrows knotted: bordering on angry.
You continue. “I think it ain’t that simple. It’s why I go through phases of having that photo of my mom in my wallet. You can be mad at someone and still miss them. At least I think you can. They’re not binary things, or mutually exclusive. So, I don’t think it’s as simple as ‘fuck her’.”
There’s a moment where JJ just looks at you, as if he’s soaking you in the same way the two of you are basking in the warmth of the sun. It’s a certain kind of stare; the kind where you don’t feel calculated under his gaze but unquestionably seen. There’s a momentary concern that you’ve offended him but then JJ gains this almost-smile that’s becoming more and more familiar to you, and he nods.
“I’ve never really talked to anyone about her before,” JJ confesses.
You smile sadly. “Me too. About my mom, I mean. Dad shuts down when I bring it up and Charlotte…She remembers things differently.”
“Well, it’s nice to talk about it.”
“Yeah,” you agree. “It is nice.”
The whispering of sea waves melts into the sound of songbirds and geese, singing and squawking in a weirdly melodic harmony. There’re crickets in the dunes which chime in from time to time and you take a moment to look back to the water, close your eyes, and enjoy it all.
“So, what’s your excuse for it?”
“My excuse for what?” you wonder, never opening your eyes.
“You know.” There’s a soft scrape on your skin as JJ kicks some sand off his feet and onto yours. “For acting the way we do.”
Sighing, you deliberate on how to answer. JJ has this way of opening you up. With others, you were hard-shelled and closed off, but like a pistachio, he knew where to pry just right to get you to spill. It was like he already knew the password so you never questioned letting him through the door.
“I don’t want to care what people think of me. It makes no difference, whether I impress them or not, so what should it matter? Why should I waste my time with it?”
“‘Makes no difference?’ Like makes no difference whether they stick around?” JJ wonders.
You open your eyes and look to him, a little taken aback by how easily he translated your words. “Sure. Like that.”
“Like your mom?”
It doesn’t affect you when he asks that. If someone else were to, your fury would spike suddenly and you’d snap. Say something you’d regret. But maybe because JJ might understand more than others, it doesn’t. So, you nod.
“Yeah,” you quietly reply. “Like my mom.”
“I get that,” JJ muses. It’s with that small token that you feel comfortable to elaborate.
“I think it really came clear after she left, how fake people can be,” you say. “Seeing how all our so-called friends reacted. At the Yacht Club, my dad was the laughingstock. Everyone talked about him, about mom leaving, like they didn’t know him. Like he wasn’t this great guy - which he is - and like they hadn’t been drinking cocktails and pints on his tab for years. It was so fake. That’s when I realised that people will think whatever they want to, even if they say another thing. So…why bend yourself backwards to try and change it?”
Sniffing, JJ nods in understanding as he digests your story. His toes dig into the damp sand and you find your own spare hand reaching out and playing with the grains, sifting through them soothingly.
“What about you? Why do you act the way we do?”
“I guess the same, in a way,” JJ replies. You notice that he likes to gaze ahead when he talks about himself, like eye-contact is too painful. Too vulnerable. “With my dad being who he is, people just assume the worst about me. I’m sick of trying to prove them wrong. They’re gonna think what they wanna think so what’s the point, right?”
“The ones who care enough won’t judge a book by its cover. They’ll get to know you and see through all the bullshit,” you assure him.
His head turns with that. Unblinking, he asks, “like you?”
You’re momentarily stunned by the bluntness of the question but soon enough, you’re smiling at him.
“Yeah. Like me.”
When JJ smiles, his teeth peak through in this adorably youthful way. There’re dimples that poke through his cheeks and no tension in his forehead or jaw. Just happiness. You like him like this, all tousled and sun-kissed and seawater bathed. It’s strange. Sitting here with him on the beach feels like the first time you’ve ever been to the water and truly appreciated it. It’s like you’d always thought you would sink, so you never swam. But now, with JJ looking at you the way he is, and the way the two of you seem to click in an inexplicable manner – as if you’d been the two missing parts of the other’s jigsaw puzzle – you realise that maybe you were wrong to make such an assumption.
“It’s weird. We come from such different lifestyles but I don’t think anyone understands me as good as you do.”
JJ’s voice is quiet but not small when he tells you this. It’s a private thought that you’re honoured for him to have shared. There’s only one way you can think to answer.
Leaning forward, you leave your drink abandoned on the blanket and cup his jaw, fingers damp from condensation. His lips meet yours willingly. The kiss the two of you fall into makes your feelings for him all the more obvious to you, and all the more terrifying.
There was a lot of rumours about the both of you. Some were true, and some were not.
JJ drops the campervan off at his friend John B’s house. It’s this quaint fishing shack that could definitely do with a lick of paint on the boarding, and a few fresh nails to keep the porch from caving in on itself. But it’s homely by how clearly lived-in it is. There’s no emotionless ornaments like in your house; only fishing gear, empty cans of beer by the stairs leading up to the front door, and far-from-new throw pillows. You wait on the grass at the bottom of the stairs as JJ heads up to the door, skipping one of the steps entirely. He raps with his knuckles on the door before letting himself in.
“Yo! John B, you home?”
“Back here!” you hear a guy call back. JJ vanishes into the house, car keys in hand, ready to hand them over.
Shoving your hands in your short pockets, you glance out to the backyard. There’s an impressive sized tree from which a hammock hangs, and a less than stable looking jetty. A sort-of shed stands, filled with all sorts of tools and gear, and a half-waxed board lies on a table.
“Alright, let’s bounce,” JJ says, reappearing. He hops off the porch and grabs your hand like it’s second nature, guiding the two of you away from the house.
“You known John B a long time?”
“Since kindergarten,” JJ replies.
“Damn. Don’t think I’ve ever known someone that long. Well, apart from Charlotte.”
“What’s her deal, anyway?”
“Who? Charlotte?”
“Yeah. Like, is she as conceited as everyone says she is?”
Your brows quirk up. “People say she’s conceited?”
Watching JJ fumble and stumble over his tongue is entertaining. He looks to you, mildly panicked. “Well, like, I don’t say that but—”
“I’m just messing with you,” you grin. He unconsciously gives a small sigh of relief. “I know she’s conceited. And spoilt. And bratty.”
“Hm. Sounds like you’re really fond of her,” JJ chuckles.
You laugh under breath and rock your head from side to side in deliberation. “She’s hard to love but harder to hate.”
“That’s ice cold, girl,” JJ whistles.
The moment your feet hit the tarmac of a main road, you realise that you’ve been following the blonde-haired boy blind.
“Where are we going, by the way?”
“To mine.”
“To yours?”
JJ seems to catch onto the innuendo. He looks to you and adds, “my bike’s there. I can give you a ride home.”
“Oh.” Something inside you sinks with disappointment. You don’t dwell on it though. “Thanks.”
The weight of JJ’s fingers nestled between yours is casually intimate. Usually you’d feel coddled and clammy and want to pull away, but instead you feel safe.
“What’d you think I meant? When I said we were heading to mine?” JJ asks you.
You quirk a brow and pull a face which seems to be answer enough. He cracks up. “I mean…I’m down if you’re down…”
“Slow and steady, JJ Maybank. Slow and steady,” you return with a grin.
“That’s my motto baby,” is his sultry reply, topped off with a wink.
You’d be lying if you said your body didn’t flush with that comment.
“You’ve got a reputation, JJ. I’m not gonna be another notch on your belt,” you jokingly say.
JJ rolls his eyes. “Yeah, well, half of my reputation is bullshit rumours.”
“Same here, amigo.”
“Yeah, I’ve gotta admit, I’ve heard some pretty batshit things about you,” JJ tunefully says.
Smirking, you turn to look at him. “Oh really? Like what?”
He takes a moment to think. The eventide light shadows his skin like a painting. “The state trooper?”
Ah. You remember that one. Bobby Cromack spread a rumour that you’d kicked a state trooper in the balls during a protest. On accounts that no protest ever existed that month in Kildare, that was a lie.
“False,” you say. You take the opportunity to debunk some of that you’d heard about JJ. One that you were certain wasn’t true was the rumour that he ate an entire turtle raw. “The turtle?”
He blows a raspberry. “Bullshit. The college guy?”
“Hearsay,” you say. Apparently, a friend of a friend of someone at Kildare Academy saw you at a frat college party in Wilmington, snorting coke off some guy’s chest. Incredible how easily fake news flies. “The hooker?”
“Lies,” he debunks. So, JJ didn’t lose his virginity to a prostitute. “The Banksy side-gig?”
You guffaw. “Complete crap.”
Yes, it appeared that people at school thought you were spending your free time running around Kildare, throwing up mediocre spray paint art as an act of rebellion. Stunning.
“Damn. You’re just full of disappointments, ain’t ya?”
JJ leads the two of you up a small dirt road and through a culmination of trees and shrubs, a house begins to emerge. It’s slightly bigger than John B’s but still small. It is somehow even more banged up, but not in an inviting way like his friend’s. No, this place looks desolate and lonely. Sad even. You feel a sympathetic tug when you notice JJ’s shoulders tense at the sight of it. You’re not even sure he realises that he’s doing it. There’s a bright red bike that you recognise; it’s sheltered under a small shack in the garden. It seems that neither of you are ready to close off the conversation yet. Instead, JJ takes you to the steps of his porch and the two of you sit. You lean against one pillar and him against the other. The wood is splintering and the paint is peeling off in strips. Facing one another, you slot your feet between his staple combat boots.
“Tell me something true.”
“Something true?” he checks, rubbing at his jaw. You nod. “I don’t like snakes.”
Laughing, you shake your head. He seems to like your laugh, smiling at the sound and sight. “No. Something real.”
JJ reaches out and plays with one of your laces.
“Something nobody else knows,” you explicate.
“Okay,” JJ nods. He retracts his fingers from your shoe, using his hand to help him keep his balance as he leans forward. You can smell the salt on the skin of his neck from the sea as he presses a kiss to your skin. There’s something sensual about the warmth of his breath on the apple of your cheek.
“You’re sweet,” he says. Your lips push together, suppressing your smile, and JJ pulls back only to move to the other cheek. “And sexy.” He pulls back so he can plant a kiss on your lips. You love how JJ kisses. “And completely hot for me.”
You guffaw, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. “You’re amazingly self-assured, has anyone ever told you that?”
He frowns momentarily before nodding, saying, “I tell myself that everyday, actually.”
The smile that his joking response brings you quickly fades when he kisses you again. There’s something different about this kiss. Something passionate, and emotive, and sensuous. When his hand reaches up to cup at the place where your jaw fades into your neck, you find yourself leaning into his hold, deepening the kiss. The brush of his tongue on yours sends electricity shooting from your head, down your spine, straight through your toes. It’s over all too soon. When he speaks, he’s close, and he asks his question against your lips.
“Go to the Spring Ball with me.”
“What?” you dumbly ask, eyes slowly opening.
“The Yacht club spring ball. Go with me,” JJ clarifies.
Your smile doesn’t falter as you gaze into his eyes, admiring the flecks of colour. The answer is easy. “No.”
His brows gently tug together. Smiling, he repeats, “come on, go with me.”
“Is that a request or a demand?” you half-joke. The magic of the moment is dissipating as quick as vapour. He doesn’t reply but the way he holds your gaze suggests that he’s still waiting for an answer. “No.”
“No? Why not?”
You pull away now. “Because I don’t want to. Because it’s a dumb tradition for fake rich people.”
“Come on! People won’t expect you to go. Plus, it’d be a laugh seeing the look on those Kook asshole faces when you show up with me, don’t you think?” JJ prompts.
You frown. Something manifests in your gut. It weighs heavy like a stone. Cocking your head, creating more distance between the two of you, you ask, “why are you pushing this?”
JJ’s lips part. You see them try to form words but nothing comes out. It makes you prod further.
“What’s in it for you?”
He turns, sitting fully on the porch, feet side by side on the step below. You watch his side profile and notice how his jaw ticks and tightens, like he’s annoyed. Like you telling him no has annoyed him. That stone turns into a rock.
“So, you’re saying I need a motive to be with you now?” JJ asks, tone clipped.
Your anger ticks. “You tell me.”
He scoffs and shakes his head, glancing out to the unkept yard. Suddenly, he looks to you. There’s a dark, twisted look on his face that’s so scarily unfamiliar. “You need therapy, you know that? Has anyone ever told you that before? Like you’re actually sick in the head.”
The words hit like darts aimed straight for your heart. You swallow the pain and keep your gaze steely but your voice gives you away. It’s shrinking and holds no conviction as you say, “answer the question, JJ.”
The ugliness of him only grows as he shakes his head once more. There’s a sick smile on his face that comes and goes quick like a hurricane before he sardonically says, “nothing, alright? Just the pleasure of your company.”
The rock in your gut is a boulder; it makes you feel like you’re sinking into the ground. The shock barely has time to settle before he delivers another blow. You watch JJ dig into his short pockets and pull out a pack of cigarettes, shucking one free and propping it between his lips. He said he was quitting. Scoffing, you reach out and take it as he searches for his lighter. You toss the cigarette carelessly on the ground before getting to your feet, hastily walking away from him. It’s like you can’t get away fast enough. Your arms wrap around you in a far from comforting hug the minute you feel obscured by the foliage. When you realise that JJ isn’t following you, your head dips and lips tremble. With the call of a songbird, your mind flashes back to earlier that day, at the beach, and your tears finally start to fall.
There was a rumour that your sister wanted to go to the spring ball with Rafe. That one was (thankfully) false.
Academics don’t hurt you the way people do. Math equations can’t talk back and Shakespeare quotes don’t bite. Throwing yourself into your studies seems the best way to get your mind of JJ’s cruel words. The look on his face when he snapped at you was so different to the way he’d been with you before. It was cold and callous and downright mean. It was also befuddling, how defensive he got. JJ and Spring Ball didn’t seem like the most obvious pairing to you. You knew that JJ liked to stick-it-to-the-man and get under the Kook’s skin, but pushing the spring ball just to take the piss was so abnormal. Maybe that was what hurt the most.
You’re halfway through analysing a sonnet from Romeo and Juliet when there’s a soft rap on your bedroom door.
“Come in!”
It creaks open and you glance over to find Charlotte. She softly closes it behind her. Then, she takes a seat on your bed.
“What’s up?”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” you say, closing your notebook. Spinning around in your desk chair, you face your younger sister.
She takes a moment to gather her thoughts before speaking. She stands out like a sore thumb in your bedroom, amongst your old movie posters and tapestries and postcards, and the deep grey and white of your bedsheets. Her blossom pink skirt doesn’t quite fit the theme.
“Why don’t you want to go to the spring ball? Is it just to keep me from going?”
You sigh and look away, down at the floor. Shaking your head, you say, “no. I just don’t like the yacht club people. You know that.”
“You act like you’re not one of us,” Charlotte tells you.
“Because I’m not,” you reply quickly, offended. She quirks a brow.
“Look at where we live! At the car you drive! We’re in a lucky position in life and it’s stupid to act like that isn’t true!”
“I can acknowledge my privilege without leaning into it,” you say.
You weren’t stupid. You knew your socio-economic status gave you an advantage in life. Not once had you ever had to worry about money, or not having dinner on the table, or not being able to go for coffee. Your dad worked hard to get to the place where you were at now; it wasn’t handed to him. Nonetheless, spending more time with JJ, seeing his and John B’s homes, made you realise just how easy you had it. That didn’t mean that you liked the frivolities of the lifestyle, though.
“Look, I know you think the yacht club is dumb and fake and all of that stuff,” Charlotte reals off. “But I actually care about it. I really do. It means something to me.”
“But it’s so—”
“You can preach all you want, but it won’t change my opinion,” Charlotte interrupts. You slam your mouth shut. It’s a fair point (something she rarely makes). “Look, there’s a guy that I really like, and he wants to take me.”
“Rafe?”
“No.” She says it in a way that makes you think she’s almost amused at the thought. “Louis. He’s actually nice.”
“Actually?” You check.
She smiles and nods. She has a pretty smile. “Yes. Actually. But daddy won’t let me go if you don’t and I really want to go.”
You swallow. It’s clear where this conversation is going now. Sighing, you look out the window. It’s windy today. Blossoms keep getting blown from the trees and they pass by your window like fake snow.
“The thing with the yacht club isn’t just as simple as not wanting to get all dressed up for some dumb tradition,” you admit. “I don’t like how they treated dad, after mom left.”
“I know,” she says. Then, after a moment’s thought, adds, “But that wasn’t everyone. Remember how Mrs M brought us casserole for a week? And Mr Cameron invited dad out on a fishing trip? Some people are fake, that’s true, but not everyone. Not everyone has ulterior motives.”
That last sentence has your eyes snapping back to hers. She doesn’t seem to realise what she’s said. In fact, it looks like she’s waiting for you to tear into her like you usually would. But when you take her in, you see a sweet fifteen-year-old girl who’s a little tightly wrapped in cotton wool, who wants an excuse to wear a pretty dress and dance to trashy pop music and get to know a cute guy. The thought of keeping her away from that makes you feel guilty. Plus, if you’re there, at least you can keep an eye on her from the outskirts. Check that this Louis isn’t just another Rafe in disguise.
“Fine.”
She blinks at you, confused. “Fine?”
“I’ll go. We can go.”
“We can!?”
The way her whole face lights up like New York at night makes the night of horror already worthwhile. Starting to smile, you nod. The hug that Charlotte fires at you nearly sends you falling out of your chair. As much as you hate hugs, this one might be the best one you’ve ever had from her.
There was a rumour that JJ’s dad beat him. He never told you that was true, but you had a feeling.
JJ’s house seems eerily quiet. It isn’t the sort of quiet that makes you feel as though nobody’s home. It reminds you of the quiet in the movies when the hostages are hiding from the bad guys. The kind where nobody wants to step on a twig and give away their location. Something about it stops you from heading up the porch and knocking on the door. You’ve barely rounded the corner of the house, about to see what you can spot around the back, when someone is grabbing at you from behind. It’s a man, you can tell by their arms. One wraps around your middle, fastening one of your arms to your side, and the other comes to cover your mouth. It muffles your panicked yelps.
“Calm down, calm down, it’s me,” JJ’s whispering frantically in your ear.
It doesn’t stop your struggling though. He’s barely pulled you away from the house before you shake free, shoving him off you. He takes you by the wrist then, guiding you into the marshland.
“What the hell, JJ!”
“Shut up, alright? He’ll hear,” JJ shortly replies.
You do as he says begrudgingly and let him take you further from the house. Eventually, JJ lets go. He takes a second to catch his breath, bringing his arms up to clasp his hands behind his head, back facing you as he paces.
“What’s going on?” you ask.
He shakes his head. “Don’t matter.”
Turning around, it seems as though his whole demeanour has reset. Well, almost. There’s a tension in his muscles that he can’t fully shake. You overlook it the same way you overlook the bruise forming near his eye. It’s brown and purple. Definitely caused by more than a tap on a doorframe.
“What are you doing here?” he asks.
“I had to come see you,” you say. Suddenly, with the spotlight on you, the confidence that Charlotte instilled within you falters. “About the other day.”
“The other day?”
“Yeah, on your porch…” you clumsily say.
JJ raises his brows, changing his weight from one leg to the other. It seems easier to fixate on his cap rather than meet his eyes. It’s green and purposefully frayed on the edges; it compliments his skin tone well. Swallowing your pride with a sigh, you awkwardly twiddle your fingers.
“I came to apologise for how I reacted.”
“You did?”
Your eyes dart down from his hat to meet his. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have questioned your motives. It was dumb of me, and stupid, and…dumb.”
“Said that one already.”
“Shut up.”
“Right.”
You sigh and rub at your forehead like this conversation is causing you a headache. It turns out pride and stubbornness are sisters.
“Anyway, I just wanted to come and say sorry and see if you still wanted to go. Maybe,” you rush out.
“You wanna go to the spring ball?” JJ frowns.
“Yeah. Charlotte wants to go and my dad—You know what, that doesn’t matter. Because you’re right,” you tell him, cutting yourself off in the process.
His eyebrows almost shoot into his hairline with that. Something tells you that he doesn’t hear that phrase a whole lot.
“It would be funny to rub it in the kook-club faces. And maybe I’d actually enjoy the night if I went with you.”
JJ purses his lips and plants his hands on his hips, looking off to the greenery. You know what he’s doing. He’s basking in this moment, with you stood, tail between your legs, and milking it for what it’s worth. It isn’t exactly amusing, but it does somehow ease your anxiety.
“So, you’re saying that I’m right and that you want me to take you to your fancy spring ball?”
“Yes,” you reply through gritted teeth.
“Huh.” JJ nods, pulling a face. “So this is what it feels like to be right…"
Silence.
"It’s oddly unsettling.”
“Look, do you wanna go or not, cause I’ve got plenty of other things I can do with—”
JJ makes it to you with two large strides. Your face is enveloped by his hands as he guides your lips to yours in a smooch-like kiss. It’s awfully annoying how all of your worries seem to melt away with that one gesture.
“Yes. I’ll go with you,” JJ says the minute he pulls back.
You want his lips on yours again already, but you practice restraint. Bringing a hand up to lay over one of his, you look up into his eyes. God, he’s so dreamy.
“I’m sorry for questioning your motives,” you repeat, more sincerely now.
JJ swallows before nodding. “You’re, uh, you’re forgiven. I’m sorry too, for saying the things that I did. I gotta pretty ugly temper sometimes and I just speak without thinking.”
You missed the smile that comes to your face. Nobody makes you smile like JJ does. Nobody gets you like JJ does either. As if trying to tell him so, you lean up and kiss him again. You can feel his smile against yours, melding and merging like you’re two of the same souls. You assume that this is JJ’s way of saying yes; he’ll join you to the spring ball.
There was a rumour that your sister punched Rafe at the spring ball. That one you weren’t sure about.
The yacht club was a cream building with pastel green shutters and doors. It stood in front of the beach, surrounded by perfectly trimmed green fields and a stone’s throw from a golf course. Several flags stuck out of the thatched roof, waving proudly in the air. For the spring ball, the porch had been decorated with ivy and flowers. Purple and blue blossoms were intertwined with foliage and string-lights, dancing up the poles as if growing. The main event was held in the back, facing the sea. The extensive decorations continued, only now with white sheer-like fabric hanging from place to place, creating somewhat of a shelter. A makeshift dancefloor was put down using wooden boards directly before a small stage for live musicians to perform throughout the night. Tables for snacks which looked as though they’d been meticulously crafted by God himself lined the back wall of the building.
“Holy crap,” you can’t help but mutter at the sight of it all.
JJ whistles lowly in wordless agreement. His fingers intertwine with yours, squeezing, and you look up to him.
“Ready for this?” he asks.
“Are you?”
He grins with that. “Baby, I was born ready to show these Kooks a good time.”
You roll your eyes, smile flowering on your features, and guide the two of you up the porch. The moment you pass Mr and Mrs Johnson, dressed in the over-the-top attire, you hear their hushed whispers. It makes your smile grow.
JJ manages to snag a couple of drinks for the two of you from the bar. You sip and lead the two of you outside, into the belly of the beast. Adults stand chatting away, gushing falsely over their lives. Did you hear the Carol got accepted into Yale? Oh, isn’t it just marvellous! You spot Charlotte fairly quickly and it brightens the night. She’s dancing with Louis, giggling like a child on Christmas morning, and he’s watching her like she hung the stars shining in the sky above.
You and JJ find a quieter spot to the side to people watch. Your leg rests against his as you perch, sipping on the champagne.
“You look beautiful, by the way,” JJ says, breaking the silence.
Looking to him, you smile. He’s the only person who can make you bashful. “Really?”
“Yeah. I mean, I kinda forget to say earlier,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. You love when he does that. It makes you giddy to know you have that kind of effect on him.
“Well, what I think you said was ‘wow’,” you correct.
You know that’s what he said. You think the look on his face, somewhat mesmerised, and the way that the words made your heart hammer like you’d run a marathon, will be permanently etched in your memory.
JJ smiles, looking down to his shoes. You have no idea where he got them from. They’re seemingly brand-new leather loafers, starkly different to his worn-down combat boots.
“You don’t clean up too bad yourself, Maybank,” you clumsily compliment.
He shrugs, confidence somewhat boosted. Glancing down at you, he asks, “Oh really?”
“Mhm. Kinda like you in a penguin suit,” you say.
You fix his collar just for an excuse to touch him. He seems to realise this, wrapping his fingers around your wrist to hold it steady before dipping his head down. Your lips meet his in a chaste kiss that has your toes squirming.
“You wanna walk around. Show my penguin suit off to a few more people?”
You laugh quietly, nodding. “Sure.”
The peruse of the party is probably heightened by the alcohol that JJ keeps managing to sneak for the two of you. At any opportunity, you’re whispering in his ear or his in yours with jokes and jabs about people’s outfits. Rose, looking like lady liberty. Mr Dulany, here to haunt us from his grave. As the night rumbles on, you find yourself actually enjoying it. Somehow, someway, the two of you find yourselves on the dance floor. You’re letting JJ swing you around in some makeshift jive to the mini orchestra’s upbeat rhythm. His theatrics have you practically doubling over. JJ was born with two left feet and then some. You don’t care though. It’s perfect.
When the song ends, there’s a lull as the band catches their breath and sips on some water. The crowd applauses, including yourself, and JJ nods at you as if approving of the talent. It makes you laugh even more. Just as you go to make a joke about it, an all too familiar swell of violins emerges from the stage. Your lips part, head darting over, hands pausing mid-applause, because there’s no way. There is no way that they’re playing what you think they’re playing.
The melody materialises out of the melancholic chords and your heart breaks into a million pieces. Cinema Paradiso: Love Theme.
You scoff in wonderous disbelief, extending a finger dumbly to the stage as you look to JJ, mouth agape. He’s grinning, watching you like he was waiting for your reaction. It patches your heart back together in an instant.
“They’re…” you begin to say.
He nods. Leaning forward, beside your ear, he tells you, “I called in a favour.”
You pull back suddenly, meeting his gaze, checking for some sign of a lie. But he isn’t. He’s smiling, sweet and safe, and you can’t help but step towards him and wrap your arms over his shoulders, around his neck. He accepts your embrace willingly, hands finding solace around your waist. JJ holds you against him as the two of you sway. You practically hide your face in the lapel of his blazer, smiling like a drunk. He did this for you. He remembered this specific song, this specific reprise, for you. The weight of the realisation nearly brings you to tears. Nearly.
In this cocoon of JJ, it feels as though the music coils around the two of you like a snake, trapping you in the lovingly lugubrious song. It ties in perfectly with the distant sound of the ocean. That’s when you realise that you’ll never be able to hear either of those things again without thinking of the seventeen-year-old boy who busted his ass to win you over. You have no idea what you did to deserve him, or what possessed him to pursue you, but whatever it was, you’re eternally grateful.
It takes a split-second to register the hand shoving at your shoulder. It pushes you apart from JJ, making you stumble over your heels as they catch in your dress. After untangling it, you look up to find Rafe’s back facing you. Stepping around him, about to intervene, you see JJ’s face. Something about his expression stops you. He looks anxious.
No.
He looks terrified.
“Look, I didn’t pay you to take out her psycho sister just so some little punk can take out Charlotte instead.”
In that instant, JJ looks like someone who’s just found out his whole religion is a lie, and it’s his fault.
The words parse together slowly. Each syllable as it registers feels like another vice wrapping around your lungs, robbing you of air.
Pay you…
To take out…
Her psycho sister…
JJ isn’t looking at Rafe. He’s not even acknowledging that he exists. He’s staring at you. It doesn’t feel like his usual stare; the kind that makes you feel like he can see you through smog. No. It makes you feel exploited.
That’s when you finally find enough oxygen in your body to form some words.
“Nothing in it for you, huh?”
That same God-awful feeling from the other days returns but tenfold stronger. The urge to just get as far away from JJ as humanly possible. The urge to run. You turn and rush away from the dancefloor, from the crowds, from whatever chaos is bound to follow Rafe like a shadow. From JJ. From the only person you’ve ever really trusted since your mom.
Even though you’re outside, the air feels suffocating. You’re trying to navigate your way around the building, to the carpark where you can call an Uber or just walk home. Anything, anything¸ but stay here, near him.
But JJ’s persistent. You’d known that from the moment you met him. You can hear him calling for you, his voice desperate, and it makes everything hurt even more. He’s faster than you, especially when you’re wearing heels. When he catches up to you, his fingers wrap around your upper arm.
“Please! Please, just lemme explain!” JJ pleads.
“You were paid to take me out by the one person I truly hate.”
You shake him off and turn to face him. He looks guilty as sin and you can’t do it. Can’t bare it. Turning again, you continue to walk away.
“I knew this was a set up.”
The gut feeling from the porch is so horrifically ironic. You should have known. You should have known.
“It wasn’t like that!” JJ insists.
“Really?” You snap. He grabs for you again and you stop, meeting his gaze. You’re not sure how you’re not sobbing. “What was it like? A down payment now and then a bonus for sleeping with me?”
“No, look, I didn’t care about the money, alright!?” JJ desperately insists. You can’t seem to look away. His eyes hold so much feeling but it all feels so lifeless now. “I…I cared about you.”
It all feels so fake.
“I don’t believe you,” you whisper.
Shaking your head, you swallow thickly. The tears finally come, teasing at your waterline, stinging like Rafe’s words from moments ago.
“You’re so not who I thought you were.”
JJ almost physically winces. You push his hand off your arm and go to leave but he’s relentless. He takes you by the wrist with a firm grip, his other hand taking you by the jaw. Then his lips are on yours. The kiss isn’t like the others. It’s dirty and disgusting and disingenuous and desperate, and you shove him off by the shoulders. You glance over him, wet cheeked, like he didn’t cause this. But he did. He hurt you. He hurt you.
This time, when you walk away, JJ doesn’t chase you. Maybe that’s what hurts most of all.
There was a rumour that JJ was paid to take you out. That one was horrifically, painfully true.
When your mom left you cried for a week. Endlessly, morning through to night, tear after tear. It would sometimes pass, but then it would hit again, out of the blue, like a boat colliding with an iceberg in the sea in the vast darkness of night. But after a week, you didn’t have anything left. You just felt hollow and empty. Then you promised that you wouldn’t cry about her anymore.
“You want the moon? Just say the word and I’ll throw a lasso around it and pull it down.”
You sigh and try to focus on the comforting black and white picture on your laptop. George Bailey stands beside sweet little Mary, stood in the night.
“Hey, that’s a pretty good idea. I’ll give you the moon, Mary.”
“I’ll take it.”
The gentle knock on your door is almost a blessing. It’s hard to distract yourself from the awful pain in your chest.
“Come in,” you call out.
Charlotte creeps in, closing the door behind her. She leans against it and looks at you. You’re wallowing in your bed, tucked under a blanket, surrounded by comfort snacks that Mia brought for you and tissues.
“What’s up?” you ask her when she doesn’t speak.
She shakes her head and walks over, climbing onto the bed. She crawls around so she can lie on her back, and you wordlessly turn yourself over, rest your head on her stomach, and begin to cry for what feels like the millionth time. Her fingers lovingly stroke your hair, soothing you through your pain. Suddenly, you’re immensely thankful for your sister. You wouldn’t want her any other way than how she is, no matter how whiny and spoilt she can sometimes get.
“Charlotte?” you sniffle.
“Yeah?” she quietly asks.
It feels like another splinter cracks into your heart as the confession falls from your lips. “I really miss mom.”
She’s still a moment, and then she’s wrapping her arms around you, hugging you tight and close. For once, you don’t pull back. You let yourself be held by your little sister.
“I know,” she whispers. “I do too.”
There was a rumour that JJ regretted what he did. You weren’t sure if that one was true, but you wanted to know.
About a week after the spring ball, you finally brave the outside world. The old movie shop is your first point of call considering you made your way through all your ‘to be watched’ films in the past seven days. It’s nice knowing that you won’t run into anyone in the shop; that you can lose yourself to the world of fiction in sepia and black and white.
The brass bell chimes as you walk through the door.
“Hiya Lucy,” you say.
She glances up from the spreadsheet she’s ticking at, smiling at the sight of you. Then, as if something dawns upon her, she’s waving out her hands for you to pause. “I have something to give you!”
“Oh?”
You didn’t put anything on hold. Wandering over to the counter, you lean against it as Lucy ducks down to rummage for something under the desk. Eventually, she heaves an old typewriter onto the counter.
“What…”
“There’s a note, too,” she says, bobbing back down to search.
Whilst she looks, you reach out a finger and trace it over the iron letters. They’re cold and a little dusty, and beautifully ornate. It’s painted black with gold accents. You’ve never seen something so beautifully vintage. Maybe your dad or Charlotte put it aside for you, as a pick-me-up. You can’t imagine it to be very cheap, not with the quality it is in and the year it was made.
“Here,” Lucy sighs. She holds out a small envelope for you. You take it with a small thanks and open it up.
For you to write your movies.
JJ
The two initials printed in black ink make you pause. You stare at it, throat constricting painfully at the sight. You look to the typewriter again and then back to the note. Just like everything else with JJ, you’re overcome by a confusing concoction of emotions.
Remembering Lucy, you flash her a hopefully unbothered smile and tuck the note in your back pocket.
“Thanks, Lucy,” you say. You brace yourself and lift the typewriter with a huff.
“You got it?”
“Yep, yep,” you strain, beginning towards the door. Some nice old lady holds it open for you as you struggle out, hollering a farewell to the storeowner as you go.
The whole drive home, the typewriter watches you. It watches you as you park and it watches you fight your way up the stairs. Finally, in the quiet of your room, you sit and digest the note. It’s funny that a one sentence message has left you so stumped. But you don’t know what it means. An apology, most likely. But is that enough? An apology for lying to your face for over a month. For letting you open up to him and for letting you believe that he was doing the same, only to find out there was a paycheck at the end.
It's so frustrating that no matter how you try to, and no matter how much easier it would be if you did, you just don’t hate him. You don’t. You can’t. You can’t believe that everything that happened between you was a front. Every little anecdote and gesture, ever look and kiss, was all an act. It just can’t be. Just like you’d said to JJ on the beach, feelings aren’t mutually exclusive. ‘You can be mad at someone and still miss them.’ Is that what this was?
Pulling open your desk drawer, you turf around for some pages of plain paper. You tuck them into the typewriter and practice a few of the keys. There’s the aesthetic clack as they mark the page and the ping when the edge of the page is met. Once you feel confident in how it works, you slot a new piece of paper in the machine and sigh. And then, you begin to type.
I hate the way you talk to me
And the way you cut your hair.
I hate the way you drive my car.
I hate it when you stare.
I hate your big dumb combat boots
And the way you read my mind.
I hate you so much it makes me sick.
It even makes me rhyme.
I hate the way you’re always right.
I hate it when you lie.
I hate it when you make me laugh
Even worse when you make me cry.
I hate it when you’re not around
And the fact that you didn’t call.
But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you.
Not even close.
Not even a little bit.
Not even at all.
You reread the poem time and time again. It feels like healing, in a strange way, almost as if you’re soothing your wounds with a homemade balm. Finally, for the first time in a week, you feel yourself give a genuine smile. Gently taking the paper from the typewriter, you deliberate what to do with it. The answer comes to you clear like the water at daybreak.
There was a rumour…
Like clockwork, you find JJ on the fishing jetty. His back is to you once more, only this time he’s wearing a loose navy-blue button shirt. Those same cargo shorts and those same combat boots adorn his lower half. His long, tousled mousy-blonde hair is out free, not buried under a cap: your favourite style on him. You make your way down the jetty slowly, giving yourself time to change your mind. There’s a nervousness in your stomach and it doubles when JJ glances over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps. The moment he sees you, he leaves his rod propped and turns around fully.
“Hey,” he breaths.
You come to a stop in front of him, leaving a safe distance. “Hey.”
“What, uh…I didn’t know you were coming here,” he eventually says.
You shrug. “I didn’t know I was, ‘til now.”
He nods, uneasy, and pushes his fingers through his hair. His wonderful nervous fidget. You love that one almost as much as the neck scratch.
“The typewriter?”
“Hm?”
“The typewriter. What’s that for?”
He shrugs, gesturing out to you. “For your movies. So you can write those films that you wanna make.”
“But what’s it for?”
JJ catches your gaze and flounders. He shakes his head and glances off, inspecting a corner of the jetty. You take a step forward but he seems to think you’re going to leave, because suddenly he’s looking up at you again and talking. “I’m really sorry about how everything went down.”
You pause in place and watch him. In one of your hands is the poem, folded up into a tiny rectangle, withered at the seams from fiddling.
JJ shakes his head. “I’m not proud of it. At first, I was happy to. I mean, I was getting paid to take out some random chick. I don’t come from much and that amount of money can stretch a long way.”
“I know,” you quietly say.
“No, you don’t,” JJ says. He isn’t exactly angry; it seems he just wants to be clear. “My dad’s a deadbeat, alright? He gets fired from every gig he gets and I gotta help keep the lights on. It ain’t your fault, and I’m not blaming you, but you don’t know what it’s like living from paycheck to paycheck. You ain’t ever had to worry about going hungry, or not having gas or power for a week, or going without internet for a month. So, when Rafe offered me $50, course I said yes. I’m a scumbag who’s dirt-broke with no fucking morals.”
You can’t help but close your eyes. It hurts to hear him talk about himself like that. It hurts to hear him admit to taking the money.
“But then I actually got to know you,” JJ continues.
He’s watching you when you open your eyes. Gauging your reaction.
“And I meant everything I said to you. I didn’t make any of that shit up – the real stuff. And I meant it when I said nobody has ever understood me like you do,” JJ tells you. His voice is thick and weighty with emotion.
You purse your lips in a bid to keep from crying. “What about the movies?”
“Well, I didn’t like them all that much before I met you,” JJ admits. “But you’ve made me a fan. To be honest, they make me think of you.”
“And the typewriter?” you can’t help but ask.
JJ’s lips tease to smile. “Well, this asshole paid me a whole bunch of money to take this really cool chick out. But I messed up and I fell for her, so I had to do something useful with the money.”
Your thumb brushes over the paper of the poem. It feels like a safety blanket. You can’t tear your eyes from his and it seems he feels the same. He nods, gently, as if confirming whatever doubt you have.
“I don’t expect you to just forgive me. I know you don’t trust easy and I threw that in your face. But I don’t wanna lose you. I want you around forever, if you’d let me.”
The heaviness in your gut is gone. There’s a feeling of enlightenment that washes over you. Here, stood before you, honest and open, pockets empty and heart on a platter…You find yourself taking a chance. The pain from your mom leaving you without rhyme or reason fades behind one simple fact: all people are different people.
You no longer want to give JJ the poem. It doesn’t feel right to, at least not right now. Pocketing it, you dampen your lips and deliberate.
Eventually, you nod, “I’ll let you. It’ll take time for me to trust you again, like I did before…But I don’t want to lose you either.”
JJ’s smile slowly grows. It’s your smile, the one he saves just for you, and you feel the pain already passing just by seeing it. Stepping towards him, you make the first move to reconnect. He’s more than happy to accept, pressing his lips to yours in a tender, tired kiss.
“‘Sides,” you say, looking up at him, arms thrown around his shoulders. “Everyone knows the best movies are when the couple gets together at the very end.”
#jj maybank#jj maybank x reader#jj x reader#jj#outer banks#outerbanks#obx#obx fic#jj maybank fic#jj fic#outerbanks fic#10 things i hate about you
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was looking at that road on wikipedia and this line stood out because i don't know how a city could make a major throughway "available for halloween parties" without being a massive pain in the ass
As far as nonsense from the local government goes, that one's actually not too bad. At worst it creates hellish traffic conditions that clogs up all the side streets and becomes a party that's actually impossible to get to. One whole day of damage, not the worst thing they've done.
The same city once released 1000 cane toads during dengue season hoping to kill mosquitoes. Unfortunately, cane toads are invasive and also poisonous at all stages of their life making them impossible to get rid of.
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I envision myself walking hurriedly in the brisk coolness of the evening. I know this route like the back of my hand but I’m all too caught up in the presence looming a few paces behind me. You’ve been trailing me for a few blocks now after having seen me leave work. My heels pound the pavement a little quicker as my heartbeat seems to beat to the same rhythm. In my state of heightened anxiety, I panic and wander down an alleyway I definitely thought was a throughway to the other side of the block. My heart leaps to my throat as I realize I’ve wandered into the wrong alley, though I don’t have too much time to process or rethink my route before I feel a pinch to the side of my neck. The smile playing on your lips is the last I see before my vision goes completely black 💎
Now you may think you'd wake up in a nursery but such soft comforts need to be earned with good behavior. No at first you'd be in a dark bare room. The only source of stimulus being the clinking of your chains that are bolted to the floor and wall. Eventually you'd get food. Yucky disgusting baby foods and bottles. Though between starving and using your hands to shovel it into your mouth I'm sure I know what you'd pick. Then would come the first test. A simple plastic potty placed in the room. If you use it you salvage your pride but prolong your suffering. Eventually you'll have an accident, whether forced or naturally. When you do you'll pass. The disgusting mess in your panties will get cleaned up by yours truly and you'll be placed in a thick diaper. The first bit of comfort in ages. You'll also earn yourself your first bed. And from there? Well there's many more tests to come
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For those that are curious, this is the Real World Horizon location map that Count uses, done by jesuscuervo on Reddit.
See under the cut for more information.
Real World Horizon Map (Speculative)
The Embrace proper is just the valleys and lakes between Pike’s Peak and Cheyenne Mountain, the core of the Nora Territory. Here, I placed each village in a valley respective to the location of Cheyenne Mountain but moved a few things around so it would not be too crowded.
The Outer Sacred Lands – outside the Embrace proper – contain several outcast camps. I had the Nora Territory expand across the Grand Mesa and Gunnison National Forest. Brom’s Camp is located over the Black Canyon of the Gunnison as it is depicted in-game, while Rost’s Hovel and Grata’s Camp are located on the hills/mountains closer to the Embrace.
Valleymeet; the neutral land between The Sacred Lands and the Carja Sundom is based on Maroon Bells, CO in-game. However, I mapped it out to include all of the White River National Forest within Valleymeet.
Hunter’s Gathering the main settlement in Valleymeet would likely be would be located on the Roaring Fork Valley near Woody Creek. That is the largest open valley in the area and the path through which the present-day CO-82 passes could work as a main throughway between the Nora and Carja lands.
Shivering Watch, following CO-82 the mountains narrow into a canyon south of Glenwood Springs (not Glenwood Canyon). The canyon acts as the chokepoint and border between the formerly Nora lands and the Carja Sundom where Shivering Watch and The Daytower are located.
Two Teeth Camp is depicted as being on Maroon Peak in-game. However, it is built over the ruins of the Smuggler-Union Hydroelectric Plant, which is further south in Telluride, CO. I kept Two-Teeth in the southern location so it acts as a second buffer between the Sacred Lands and the Sundom.
The Carja Sundom; is where the game took the greatest artistic liberty. The game depicts the heartland of the Carja Sundom south of the Colorado River (Lake Powell specifically); however the real-world locations depicted within The Sundom, the area its geography is based on (Eagle Canyon, Arches, and Canyonlands National Parks), and the route Alloy travels through suggests the Sundom is actually located north of the Colorado River in the real world. Thus rather than having the Sundom’s heartland located in the Colorado Mesa, it would make more sense to place it in the already fertile Price and Green River Valleys in Utah. This way I was able to keep Meridian in Eagle Canyon and Sunfall in Bryce Canyon. Thus Sunfall is actually southwest rather than northwest of Meridian. The Carja Sundom would extend across most of the Western Slope in Colorado into most of eastern and southern Utah. With Shatter Kiln (Provo) as its northernmost boundary.
The Sun-Steps – are the first region of the Sundom that Alloy encounters on her journey. In-game it stretches from Arches National Park to what appears to be Horseshoe Bend. However, Horseshoe Bend is too far south for it to make sense as the border, so I have Morning Watch located further north on another bend. Since river bends can form anywhere it is not a stretch to think there is a new bend somewhere else. Over all the Sun-Steps correspond to the Grand Valley in CO.
Free Heap – located within the Sun Steps is Free Heap, an Oseram outpost set up to provide construction material for Meridian. If they are mining for industrial materials from the Old Ones, it would make the most sense for Free Heap to be located on or near Grand Junction CO, which is the largest settlement in the area today.
Gatelands – form the eastern half of the central Carja Sundom. Unlike the rest of the Sundom, this region is relatively easy to map out since most locations have an obvious real-world reference corresponding to Arches and Canyonlands National Parks.
Lone Light had to be relocated since Horseshoe Bend is much further downriver in reality. I placed it in a smaller bend upriver.
Gatelands Bandit Camp - I depicted the Bandint Camps as neutral/independent enclaves within the Sundom, the Gatelands Camp being the largest one of these and corresponding to the entirety of Arches National Park.
The Jewel – the central heartland of the Carja Sundom appears to be based on Monument Valley in present-day Utah and Arizona. However this location would be rather out of the way from Aloy’s journey and it doesn’t fit some of the locations depicted within the Jewel itself (mainly Meridian, which is located in Eagle Canyon). Thus, I thought it made more sense for it to be centered on the eastern Green River Basin along the present-day Carbon, Emery, and Wayne counties. This way Meridian remains in Eagle Canyon and the Spurflints in the San Rafael Reef. The Spearshafts would be a new formation (not present today) somewhere in Canyonlands National Park.
Rustwatch – in-game the Shadow Carja territory is north of the Jewel across from Daybrink (Lake Powell), however since The Jewel is no longer located south of the Lake, Rustwatch and Sunfall are now southeast of the Carja heartland. But Sunfall keeps its location in Bryce Canyon.
The Southern Frontier – in-game Kestrel’s Perch is defined as a fortress built by the fifth Sun King Zavarad as the Sundom expanded north of Daybrink (Lake Powell) into Rustwatch. However because in the real world, Lake Powell is south of what I’ve defined as the Carja heartland, this frontier is now south of Daybrink and Rustwatch.
The Mountain Frontier – Call of the Mountain doesn’t really give many references on where Rising Light and the main route of the game are located, except that it is mountainous and – for the most part – densely wooded. So I opted for the Sundom to have a “Mountain Frontier” along the Wasatch Range. Because the world of Horizon is likely set in a warmer and wetter Earth (due to rising sea levels), the Bonneville and Lahontan Great Lakes have been resurrected east of this range. The former of these acts as The Sundom’s western border and provides the precipitation and rainfall necessary to create forests and jungles in the Colorado Plateau.
Shattered Kiln – a bandit camp near the northern reaches of the Sundom, as in-game it is based on Provo Utah near Maker’s End (Salt Lake City).
The Daunt; the southwestern corner of the Carja Sundom corresponds to Zion National Park. However, Zion is relatively small to fit all the in-game locations. In-game, Zion National Park appears to be the same size as the entirety of Southern Nevada or the California Central Valley. To fit everything in, I extended The Daunt to include the entire Virgin River Basin in Washington County Utah.
Barren Light would then be located with St George, Utah where the Virgin River (and the I-15) cross Bloomington Hills.
Chainscrape and the Redhew Quarry, the Oseram settlement within the Daunt is located along a bit upriver from Barren Light.
The Claim; the Oseram territory is not depicted in-game, however, Pitch Cliff and Free Heap are two Oseram settlements near their border with the Carja Sundom. It is stated that their territory is north of The Sundom and west of The Cut, so it likely corresponds to Idaho, specifically the Snake River Basin.
Pitch Cliff is likely located along the Roan Cliffs, and possibly very near the border between the Claim and the Sundom.
The lands between The Long Roam, the Claim, and the Carja Sundom form an unclaimed region around the present-day Uintah Basin. Oseram traders travel through it and the Carja might have sent some raiders across it, but it remains mostly unpopulated. I shaded this area pink as the Carja might claim it but likely hold no direct control.
No Man’s Land - is the border between the Carja Sundom and the Tenakth Clanlands. No Man’s Land borders are not well defined in-game, but they seem to correspond to the northern shore of Lake Mead, specifically the area around the Overton Arm where the Virgin River meets the Lake. The overall location works for a real-world equivalent, but a few things get shuffled around for them to fit.
Jagged Deep; the eastern bank of the Virgin River was tenuously controlled by the Carja Sundom. What remains is Riverwatch, an abandoned fort on the banks of the Overton Arm, and Jagged Deep an abandoned mine that is now delved by Oseram adventurers. The Carja Camp on the west bank of the Overton Arm is the furthest west Carja settlement.
Eastern Lie & Deadfalls are the westernmost Tenakth settlements closest to the Cajra and Utaru borders, which have been taken by Regalla’s Rebels. In fact, most of the Tenakth side of No Man’s Land is occupied by the rebels.
Spinebreak; in-game Spinebreak is located on the southeastern border between No-Man’s Land and the Tenakth Clanlands proper and built under the ruins of a present-day highway tunnel. The issue is that there are no tunnels – or logical places to put a tunnel – between the Overton Arm and Las Vegas (the Stillsands). I thus place Spinebreak further north on the Virgin River Canyon acting as a second border between Barren Light and the Tenakth camps.
The Utaru Tribal Lands; the Utaru settled in the lands surrounding the Western Grand Array (WGA), which they named Plainsong.
Plainsong, although the WGA is based on the Very Large Array in New Mexico, the VLA is very far from Aloy’s path and the in-game geography. Furthermore just like the Nora take their name from the NORAD Facility and the Tenakth take their name from the Tenth Task Force, I suspect the Utaru take their name from Utah. Thus it is likely that the WGA is not the VLA but rather a new array built somewhere in Southern Utah, between the Carja Sundom and the Desert Clans. With this in mind, I placed Plainsong on the Cedar Valley and worked from there.
Stone’s Echo – Stone’s Echo is an Utaru outpost near the Stillsands, just past No Man’s Land. I placed it along the Meadow Valley Wash, which would likely be a tad more fertile than in the present day. Because we are dealing with what I expect is a warmer and wetter climate due to rising sea levels (and AETHER’s supercell storms going haywire).
Riverhymn – On the northern edge of the Utaru lands lies Riverhymn; the second largest Utaru settlement after Plainsong. In-game it is located in a fairly mountainous corner. So it is likely located near Frisco Peak with the river that passes through it being the Beaver River. However this river flows in the opposite direction that is seen in-game, rather than flowing south towards Plainsong, it flows north into the Sevier Lake.
·Due to the wetter climate, it is possible that the entire Bonneville Basin is once again flooded and Lake Bonneville acts as a boundary between the Utaru, the Carja, the Oseram, and Tenakth Desert Clans but the game map does not go that far north. Regardless I thought it be cool so I opted to depict it as such.
Tenakth Desert Clans; the Desert Clans inhabit most of Southern Nevada. Their territory reaches the present-day Great Basin National Park in the northeast and the Shining Wastes (Death Valley National Park) to the West.
The Stillsands; southwest of the Utaru territory, is another semi-contested region (it is within the Tenakth Desert Clan territory but both major settlement Camp Nowhere and Hidden Ember are Oseram). This is pretty simple since it corresponds to Clark County NV, with Hidden Ember clearly being Las Vegas. I originally had Devil’s Grasp be located in Barstow CA, but opted to place it closer to Las Vegas in Primm.
Dry Yearn; is the easternmost region of the Clanlands. It contains Arrowhand, the second largest Desert Clan settlement, and Restless Weald. It is fairly easy to place since Restless Weald is based in Caliente, NV. With this in mind, I placed Arrowhand over Crystal Springs, NV, and the Dry Yearn Camp just north of Restless Weald.
The Greenswell; is the northernmost region of the Desert Clanlands; it is also the least arid region of the Desert Clans. Part of this can be attributed to the supercell storms, but I also opted to have the core of the territory within the Great Basin National Park, which is a very green area within the Nevada desert, which further explains the area’s climate.
Scalding Spear; centrally located in the Nevada desert, the capital of the Desert Clans is located on the present-day Crescent Dunes Solar Energy Project.
Shining Wastes; is an arid mostly flat expanse of land, which for the most part corresponds to Death Valley National Park. The only problem is that Death Valley is not particularly flat. I included Death Valley, now filled in with a saline lake, within the Shining Wastes but placed the main settlements located further north within the Nevada Desert (which is mostly flat).
Runner’s Wild – a small region in the Desert Clan territory, Runner’s Wild corresponds to Mammoth Lakes in California and acts as a border between the Desert and Sky Clans.
Salt Bite – north of Runner’s Wild this region borders Runner’s Wild and the Greenswell, it is clearly based on Mono Lake in California and the geography easily fits into this location.
Memorial Grove; although the Tenakth are divided into three warring Clans (and Regalla’s Rebels), the Memorial Grove acts as a capital / neutral ground for all three. The Grove is located on a museum and military base – specifically an airforce base – south of Mono Lake. The base does not exist in the present day but could be located anywhere in the Owens Valley. I paced it on Independence, CA (fitting name). Like other areas on the map, the Owens Valley is also much more fertile than in the current day.
Tenakth Sky Clans; northwest of the Memorial Grove the Sky Clans make their home along the Sierra Nevada, specifically Yosemite Valley and the Sierra National Forrest. Not many changes here, but it doesn’t seem like their territory expands much further north than Lake Tahoe (unless it is not depicted).
The Bulwark; the capital of the Skyclans is based on Sentinel Dome in Yosemite Valley, I kept it here and based the rest around it.
Sheerside Mountains; are based on the Sierra Nevada, the region itself corresponds to the northern half of the Sky Clans’ territory. I took Sheerside Climb to be the pass from Mammoth Lakes to Yosemite and assumed Bonewhite Tear and the other settlements would be located along CA Route 120 and the Tuolumne River.
Stand of the Sentinels the southern region of the Sky Clans appears to be based off the Sierra National Forest. Its major settlements follow a pass from Mammoth Lakes to Tide’s Reach (possibly Fresno CA, see below). This suggests that the major settlements are located along the San Joaquin River.
Tenakth Lowland Clans; like the Carja Sundom, the Lowland Clans pose a huge conundrum. The Lowlands seem to consist of the foothills of the Sierras along Kings Canyon National Park and the Sequoia National Forrest towards a coast. This suggests that California’s Central Valley is flooded due to rising sea levels. If this is the case it helps explain why The Long Coast (Bakersfield) is a coast and not inland.However, if this were the case there should be a long peninsula formed from California's Coastal Ranges. But this peninsula is completely absent from the in-game map. Furthermore, Tide’s Reach appears to be based in Oakland, but it is geographically located at the foothills of the Sierra National Forrest. This should be impossible; Oakland would be located on the aforementioned “peninsula” between San Francisco Bay and the “Central Valley Sea”, but this peninsula is nowhere to be found on the map.
I tried my best to come up with a creative solution.
Raintrace – as in-game Raintrace is based on Sequoia National Forrest, Lowland Path and Fall’s Edge are located along CA Route 180 and King’s Canyon, which provide a direct route from the Memorial Grove to the rest of the Lowland Clans’ territory. Fenrise is further south on Isabella Lake where the Kern River valley provides a connection between the Desert Clans and Lowland Clans’ territories.
Tide Reach – I relocated Tide’s Reach to Fresno, CA which is now along the coast of the “Central Valley Sea”. I opted to have it based on Fresno since it provides another large present-day settlement where to base it, and more importantly, it is directly on the path Alloy would take from Stand of the Sentinels. Since Alloy can’t swim from Tide’s Reach to the Isle of Spires (San Francisco) it makes sense to place it further away from the island than Oakland. SF Bay is large, but not large enough for there to be a storm that wrecks Alloy’s raft. To make the route Alloy takes a bit more logical I also broke up the Coastal Ranges north of the Salinas River into an archipelago. I considered sinking the entirety of the Mt Diablo Range, to provide a direct route from Tide’s Reach to the Island, but I thought that would be too much.
The Long Coast – in-game The Long Coast seems to refer to the Pacific Coast, but as already mentioned it also refers to the ruins of Bakersfield CA. Thankfully a flooded Central Valley means we’ve gained a new coast. Thus the Long Coast now refers to the western coast of this inland sea. Thornmash, in-game coordinates suggest it is located near Tracy, CA. but I placed it a little further south on this coast so it forms a triangle with Tide’s Rach and Raintrace Rise and so it is not too close to San Francisco.
Cliffs of the Cry – as in-game the Cliffs correspond to Big Sur and the California Pacific Coast. I opted to have Raintrace West located on the Cliffs (close to San Luis Obispo) since you travel from it to the Zennith Base.
Isle of Spires; is straightforward San Francisco, which is now an island. Alva describes San Francisco as an archipelago, so this helped me further justify the breakup of the Coastal Ranges. Although I realize that such geologic shifts would likely destroy the city of San Francisco itself. This is the suspension of disbelief in a world that has a volcano appear on Yellowstone and New Zealand sink beneath the waves.
Zenith Base; originally I thought about having it located in Monterey however it is south of Tilda’s Mansion, which is in Big Sur. It then seemed fitting to place the Zenith Base in Vandenberg Airforce Base instead.
The Burning Shores; it is LA, which like San Francisco is now an archipelago due to tectonic activity and rising sea levels. This is pretty much explained in-game.
Fleet’s End is located somewhere in the Baldwin Hills, which are now the main island of the “bay”
Pangea Park / Londra Productions is described as being on a peninsula. Because it is partially based on Dinseyland (or Universal Studios) I’ve opted to keep it in Anaheim. To make Anaheim a peninsula I’ve flooded the San Gabriel Valley in the north and Newport Beach in the south.
#aloy and seyka#aloy x seyka#horizon burning shores#horizon forbidden west#countdown#my writing#countdownfic#horizoncountdown#field guide
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of beskar and kyber {chapter 4}
Pairing: Din Djarin x Force Sensitive! Reader (the Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader)
Summary: The Mandalorian succumbs to more than one of his instincts regarding recent quarries, a fight to maintain that which he deems worthy of saving ensues.
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: mentions of suicidal ideation, canon typical violence, canon typical fighting, guns, gun violence, shooting, injuries, blood
A/N: please excuse any mistakes with the mando'a, i've been using a combination of a translation code and star wars lore to piece together the language. this chapter was a little hard for me to write, it was a heavy one and my weeks have not been great lately. but it's here, i worked through it and i will be out of town for a few days to get some much needed mental space before the semester starts.
thank you so much to everyone for the love and support, and hello to the 70(!!) new followers i've gained recently ♡
ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist
Watching him leave the space of the Crest and down through the entrance of the city had a foreign feeling settling in your chest. There was a weight to it, something that you hadn’t experienced before. It was akin to panic, your palms sweating and your heartbeat tittering. Your brow was smooth, though you worried your bottom lip between your teeth, some kind of anxiety taking over all of a sudden.
The shine of his newly minted armor in the blue light of dusk was a beautiful sight to behold. The strong form of the Mandalorian backtracking to right a wrong he didn’t have the resolve to stick by, despite everything he had done and every action he had taken up until this point to ensure the completion of his job. His steps were sure, his hands still at his sides, his helmet facing forward. The cape he had allowed you to use as a resting pad billowed with his steps, moving behind him in a mesmerizing show, the rifle strapped down his back holding most of it still, save for the end of it.
Eyes tracked him almost greedily until he was lost in the maze of the buildings that lined the streets. You were usure of how much time had passed since he had disappeared, though the sun had begun to descend toward the horizon.
A beeping started down in the hold, causing you to startle a little. You wracked your brain to figure out what it was without moving to inspect it. It wasn’t your ship after all, you didn’t want to go snooping around and find something you weren’t supposed to. Or, with your luck, end of messing with whatever was making the noise and get injured or blindsided by a trap. Then it clicked. It was the tracking fob he had carried around on Arvala-7.
Climbing down into the hold space despite how sore your body was, you found it atop the bed that was in his small personal quarters. The door had been left open in his haste to get back into the city. It was flashing a red light, the beeping continuing at a steady pace. Your nerves tingled as you realized what it meant. The job was back on for the entirety of the Guild. It would be a free for all, the hunt for the Child back on. You took it with you back up to the cockpit, watching as the sun began to disappear on the horizon, the fob tight in your hand.
You had managed to silence it, but the light still glowed red on the face of it.
You were still in the cockpit, taking in the surroundings of the ship when you noticed the way the same busy streets you had been watching all day seemed to clear, nearly desolate in the waning day. They had cleared as twilight had delved into early evening; the sun having dipped completely below the horizon now. A lot of the main throughways had emptied at the same time. The panicked feeling grew stronger in your chest.
It was something that made your instincts itch to run, to warn the Mandalorian. But you had no way to, the integrity of his armor had been damaged and then replaced with a completely new set. You doubted the outdated communications cuff you had in the bottom of your old bag would even connect to his, if you even had his chain code or communications number. You had no idea if you could maybe contact somehow with the controls on the ship, there was no time for you to figure it out.
Mechanics weren’t your strong suit. You could fly should the need arise, but you didn’t know enough to comfortably mess around with the older model of this ship without risking messing something up or throwing something out of sync in the settings. Silently cursing this ugly planet and dangerous city, you took off into the streets you had been monitoring.
You wandered a few streets into the city before actually beginning to search for what you wanted.
Making sure you hadn’t gained the attention of anyone or were being followed. Cautious as always. It was an odd feeling being down in the winding streets, it had been so long since you had been anywhere of your own volition. It was not lost on you that you were out on your own for the first time in who knows how long, to be seeking out help for someone else in your first moments of pseudo freedom. You had no motivation to seek out a ship of your own, to hide, to run. You had a mission, one that you felt deeply enough about to put your own true freedom to the side for the moment. The Mandalorian had somehow etched himself into your mind and you wanted him to succeed in this endeavor. In this rescue.
Not just for the sake of the Child. It was also for the man who had obviously connected with him, sensed something in him enough to regret turning him over as agreed when he took on the job.
It made you wish that someone had felt strongly enough about you to free your own fate. Or at least to aid you in achieving it yourself. You had been honest and ready to face the ramifications of your request upon the Mandalorian’s arrival at that compound. Asking him to kill you, to take the one thing you held close throughout your entire life, you had been ready. Ready to be free of the cycle that played out time and time again. You were tired of the running, the hiding, the scheming. Of watching over your shoulder every time you dared to leave a safe haven, a hiding place, the comfort of being alone for the sake of absolute safety. You didn’t see anything other than this being your life, until the end of your life.
You would agree with anyone that called you a coward, too afraid to take your own life but willing to ask for it. You would agree with them in absolution, it felt like a betrayal to those who had seen potential in you. To those that had taken you into their temple, taught you everything you knew, had seen the gift that they claimed you held. It would feel too much like disrespect, a slight to them in their deceased states after fighting so hard to protect what they believed in, who they believed in only to fall themselves. It would be a smear on your entire existence, to take your own life after they had laid down their own in protection. Despite the very fact that the gift they had seen in you, had set you on this very path.
The Mandalorian hadn’t mentioned anything other than this being a hub for the Guild in passing, where he would retrieve pucks and return captures. But there was something else about the city that had to mean something to him, to keep him returning and adamant about it as you had looked over his travel logs stored in the control system. He seemed to return here, to this outer rim location more than any other, sometimes stopping between every other planet. It had to be other Mandalorians.
Jobs, you were mostly sure of getting his payment and to obtain more, but he couldn’t possibly be coming back just for employment. You spied a large figure lingering in a doorway down the same street you were on. The streetlight glinting off of his helmet for the barest of seconds, but it was enough for you to see a similar looking visor. You knew it wasn’t him, it didn’t feel like him, but the figure still brought a sense of comfort low in your nerves. You had been correct in your hunch, it was other Mandalorian’s bringing your captor back to this planet time and time again. As if it were a base of operations for him.
You watched as the large figure moved about the streets, his armor glinting blue in the pale light of the moon beginning to show her face as night blanketed the planet. Unlike the Mandalorian you were currently captive to, this one had what appeared to be a jet pack fastened to his broad back. Large machinery was attached to him as well, but you couldn’t make out if it was a blaster or some other kind of weapon from your distance.
The figure deemed the street safe enough to briskly make their way down the length of it and around the corner of a building. A gloved hand came up to the side of the helmet and pressed something, as if they had activated something in the visor or mechanics of the helmet. They continued on, dipping silently down a flight of stairs that led into a lower-level alley. They paused in front of a nondescript door, the wood barely kept together with how warped it was, but as he reached for the handle you closed the distance with a deliberate scuff of your foot and spoke softly to them.
“Jatne vod, gar vod cuyir o'r burun.”
Sir, your brother is in danger.
The armored man swung around quickly, his hands going to the handle of the rather large machinery tethered to his form. Gun, it was a gun of some sort. Perhaps a modified blaster? His visor aimed down at you and tried your best to keep calm. Instincts not liking the focused attention. You didn’t know this man, but you knew of his Creed. He would cause you no harm unless threatened. While fighting and weaponry of a part of their culture, so was respect and the willingness to aid those in need.
“Pehea vaabir gar kar'taylir mando'a? bic cuyir a ranov'la joha par ner adate. Ner adate shi.”
How do you know Mando’?. It’s a language for my people. My people only.
“Gedet'ye, Jatne vod. Ni cuy' ti solus be gar vod. Kaysh cuyir o'r burun. Te beroya. Gaa'tayl, kaysh's at cuyir ru'ram'or jaon ad'ika.”
Sir, I am with one of your brothers. The bounty hunter. He is to be attacked over a foundling.
You knew of the Mandalorian culture putting great worth on foundlings, on those in need of guidance in the face of whatever circumstances that left them alone and needing for it. You hoped that the mention of one would help to convince the man in front of you to give aid to your captor. The Child deserved to be protected, to have someone looking out for him. And if that person needed help in the beginning of their journey, then you were going to kriffing make sure that he had it. You were worried about them both, wanting for this to story to have a good ending even if you weren’t going to be so lucky.
No one was ever going to be in your corner half as much as you had witnessed with the Mandalorian and the Child.
“Te beroya cuyir kovid. Kaysh liser akaanir.”
The bounty hunter is strong. He can fight.
“Jatne vod, anade. Val cuyir at jehavey'ir.”
Sir, everyone. They are to ambush him.
You shook your head at his words, not wanting to argue with him. He needed to understand that you weren’t diminishing their strength, either as a whole or individually in the case of the Mandalorian you were trying to save. If the entire Guild and the remnants of the Empire here on this planet were to mark him as a target, there was no way he would leave the confrontation alive. He was capable, but not when up against impossible odds. You had faith in him and his abilities, his title, the way he lived his life. But this….this was going to be a carefully executed slaughter. Your captor would need someone watching over his back. He would need help of his own.
“Pehea vaabir ni kar'taylir ibic cuyir nayc gaanaylir par mhi an?”
How do I know it’s not a trap for us all?
The armored man so similar to the Mandalorian you knew, gruff nature. Hesitant to take words as they were presented, seeing the threat in them even if it was false and only a misconception of one. It was what kept them alive in the face of attempted extermination, you would know. The Jedi and Mandalorians shared a similar history, though you knew they were once fierce enemies. If the tables were turned, you would have already walked away from him. You would have seen it as a ploy to get you out into the open as well, to be attacked yourself and to be captured.
“Ni ru'kel vaabir nayc such kebi.” You stood your ground, despite having to look up at the visor of the taller figure now staring you down. His gloved hands were at the ready atop his control cuff. Prepared to either take you out or to jet off with his pack as far away from you as possible. You closed your eyes in a long blink, gathering the courage to admit something aloud. Something that had become rather apparent even back on Arvala-7, even despite the circumstances that you came to know the Mandalorian in the first place. “Ni ganar baatir par val oyay.”
I would do no such thing. I care about his life.
The man must have felt the truth of your words. For his next move was to lower his hands from his weapons and face you in a completely open manner. He looked you up and down, the helmet moving with the scape of him taking in the way you were standing tall, trying to hold firm to your decision to seek him out. He noticed the fading bruises around your neck, the collar of the borrowed Mandalorian’s shirt wide on your shoulders. The bags underneath your eyes were still visible, but you were aware of how you must’ve looked. Like a spooked thing recovering from something awful, hiding in the shadows of the dirty buildings in this seedy settlement. All to seek out help for someone you barely knew anything about.
You could feel his gaze burning over you, dissecting you for everything you both willingly and unwillingly put on display.
With a nod, he said he would take your words seriously in Basic, and he disappeared down the street.
You took your time getting back to the ship, making sure no one had been witness to the exchange that had just taken place. If you were to be recognized or targeted, at least your last moments had been used to ensure the safety and protection of the Child, of a foundling in need of family and support. You kept your head on a swivel, not wanting to be taken off guard or to run into anyone who might have connections with the fallen Empire that was very much still alive on this outer rim planet.
As you turned down one of the more narrow streets, there was a figure slumped down on the ground, upper half leaned up against the side of a building. They were completely still, you weren’t sure if they were passed out as a result of too much spice or drink or dead. You cautiously swiped the bag of credits that had been on display, dangling from the man’s belt. You pocketed it, the borrowed pants the Mandalorian had loaned heavy as you made your way back to the ship.
After swiping the credits, you felt distant eyes watching over you. There was no hint to where or who they were, but you had a feeling it had to do with the Mandalorian you had sought out. Maybe he was keeping tabs on you to ensure the truth of your words, or had appointed someone else to do so.
As you began to ascend the ramp of the Crest, you turned to look over your shoulder one last time. You had hope that whoever it was that was tailing you hadn’t been brave or foolish enough to follow you aboard the ship. It wasn’t yours, but as you hit the button to close the ramp, a figure stepped out of the shadows and turned down the main street. It was a Mandalorian in yellow and orange armor. They had a hand held up close to the bottom of their helmet, no doubt reporting what ship you had just boarded via commlink.
The sight of Mandalorian at the head of the main street, having come out of an alley had you standing from where you were daringly seated in the pilot seat. That same, nearly panicked feeling, from earlier sparking in your chest when his beskar armor reflected the moonlight that shown down. The wrapped bundle in the crook of his arm was still, but you knew he had been successful in his rescue.
As he had turned onto the main street, bounty hunters appeared all around him. From the entrance of alleyways, down the main thoroughfare of the street, from parked speed bikes and smaller inner-city transport ships. The man you recognized as Greef Karga, from the transmission the Mandalorian had watched with you in the cockpit, stood near the entrance archway. His back to the shipyard and to you. He had people flanking him, seeming to be the one in charge as the head of the Guild. You couldn’t make out what was going on from so far away and within the relative safety of the ship, but you could tell words were being traded.
The Mandalorian didn’t have any weapons at the ready, his focus had been on the bundle in his arms. He snaked his right hand down to hover over the blaster in the holster at his hip. He had blasters of all shapes and sizes aimed at him, though you weren’t sure what the specifics of his new armor was but it had to be enough for him to still hold the confident air you could see on him from here. He stood his ground, not making moves to take in his surroundings. He had to have known that he was utterly surrounded, even from above where you could spy sharpshooters stationed on rooftops.
Some sort of agreement seemed to be achieved, as the Mandalorian began to take slow steps toward a wide, open speeder. Every pair of eyes and blaster barrel followed the armored man’s movements. He came to a halt right in front of the speeder, helmet aimed down at it as he thought something over. He notched his head to look at the bundle in his arms, still as a statue.
In an explosion of movement, he jerked his hand down and wielded his blaster and was firing shots in seconds. He continued to shoot as he jumped up and spun to land lengthwise within the interior of the open speeder. The lip of it and the cargo it contained helping to shield him momentarily from the barrage of shots that rained all around the street. Lights of blaster bolts bright in the early night.
The speeder began to move forward, and as it did so the helmet of the Mandalorian popped up over the top of some strapped down cargo. He had just enough vision to shoot a few bolts, the hits landing and taking out some of the opposing figures. The speeder only got about halfway down the street before someone had the thought to take out the droid that had been operating it. It came to a crashing halt, the hover optics were no longer working and it slammed hard into the ground.
Everything stilled, bounty hunters slowly approaching the downed speeder. But the Mandalorian’s rifle made a slow, steady movement and a shooter up above was taken out. Their body disappearing in a burst of ash and the bits of fabric from their clothing that didn’t burn up flitted down to settle on the street below. Other people began to disintegrate as the Mandalorian took aim again and again. Some took cover, some took off completely. But it was still far too many for him to take on alone and make it out unharmed, let alone alive. You worried for the Child, who was surely not enjoying being caught in the middle of the chaos lest he have awoken during your separation.
Dust flew up, making it hard to decipher anything else below. Flames erupted from where you knew the Mandalorian was still hunkered down in the speeder. It was a chaotic scene of blaster bolts lighting up all around. Suddenly, figures in familiar armor and helmets descended down into the street. Jet packs aiding them in quickly gaining the upper hand. You heard the ramp of the ship open, but you hadn’t been the one to initiate it. The battle raged on for a good while, until you finally saw the form of the Mandalorian cross the threshold of the archway that let into the city. His silhouette having formed before he appeared through the smoke and dust of the fighting.
He was walking briskly to the ship, the Child safely in his arms.
You rushed out of the pilot seat and began to make your way through the upper space of the cockpit. A foot settled on the first rung of the ladder when a voice you didn’t know sounded through the space from behind the Mandalorian. He turned to face the man standing at the top of the lowered ramp, beside the carbon freezing chamber. You rushed down, coming to stand just behind your armored captor.
“Hold it, Mando.” You watched from behind the broad wall the Mandalorian made, fighting down the urge to gently reach around him for the Child and bring him into your own arms. You saw the way that the Mandalorian’s arms tightened the hold he had on the bundled up form in his protection. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But then you broke the Code.”
The helmet moved to the left, seeing that he was positioned just beside the freezing chamber. He discreetly pressed a button on his cuff, a metal cord shot out and activated something in the chamber.
Just as a thick steam began to fill the space of the hold, the shine of a blaster being pulled from a hidden holster flashed in the lights of the ship from the opposing man. The determined man aimed them both at toward the interior of the ship. A barrage of shots rang out, fuzzy lights filling the space between you all.
One of them pinged off of the newly fashioned cuirass protecting the Mandalorian, another settled itself in your ribcage. Others rained around you, pinging off of crates and the floor. It hadn’t been a blaster that had hit you, it had been some sort of gun with actual bullets. You tried to muffle your shout, not wanting to disrupt his concentration should he need to continue the standoff. But both men were good shots, the Mandalorian’s had landed directly over the opposing man’s chest. His one to the other man’s many.
You carefully lowered yourself to the ground as something buried in your skin protested, the warm feeling of sticky blood soaking the fabric of your borrowed shirt was paired with a sharp pain that made it hard to take in a full breath. You realized that the wheezing sound was you, Greef Karga was unconscious at the end of the boarding ramp that had begun to close. Your eyes caught his form still on the ground as your own began to convulse. Your wheezing turned into a wet cough, followed by another and another.
Hands were on you, searching your back for the injury that was causing the concerning sounds to fill the enclosed hold space, the steam clearing. You were trying to hold yourself up on your knees and your left arm, your right held to your mouth as you continued to wheeze and cough intermittently. You tried to shake the concern off, he needed to get the ship up in the air. He needed to get away from the people that would surely follow up into the air and space given the chance.
“The ship!” You ground out, bringing your hand away from your mouth, eyes widening at the alarming amount of blood that was puddled in your palm, dripping thickly to the durasteel flooring of the ship. A groan sounded from you unbidden as you felt yourself be turned over onto your back, the dark fabric of the Mandalorian’s shirt shiny with your blood. Your eyes were getting heavy, you closed them, lips parting to try and bring air into your stinging lungs.
“You’ve got to get us into hyperspace. They’ll kill you for the Child.”
“This isn’t a blaster shot.” His large hands had lifted the fabric up enough to see the entrance wound, gunpowder marring the skin around it and mixing with the steady flow of blood that was seeping from it.
“The ship, jatne vod.” You wheezed out, grabbing his hand and removing it. You pushed at him weakly, hands on his cuirass. He didn’t so much as budge, his helmet was aimed down at you, the dark visor bleeding into dark streaks across your vision. When he stood, it was then that you realized in the back of your mind that he had been holding you up off the floor with one arm and checking your wound with the other. Your body moved easily as he held you behind your back and underneath your knees.
“They’ll kill you and take us both, please.”
You found some strength as panic seared in your very psyche. Your hands gripped the cowl underneath his helmet and you brought it down closer to you. You pressed your forehead against the metal of the helmet over the visor, eyes straining to focus on something, anything beneath the dark of it. For him to understand that you didn’t want that, you didn’t want him killed and you didn’t want to become someone else’s captive alongside the Child. The arms around you tightened.
“D-don’t let them take me.” A sob wracked your injured body, suddenly overcome with everything that had happened the past week. Overcome with the thought that you had risked everything to save the Child, to save the Mandalorian. To give them the chance you so desperately wanted for yourself. Your head fell back from where it touched his armor, eyes clenched shut, his arms curled around you more securely. He didn’t say anything, the sounds of people shouting and approaching the ship ushering him into motion.
Blaster fire pinged off the exterior of the ship, prompting the Mandalorian to walk a little faster further into the ship.
“What were you thinking.” It wasn’t a question, not really, not with the way the words were growled at you through the modulator, static seething into them. His hands were light on you as he settled you into the chair to the left of the main one in the cockpit. He pushed your own hands down on the wrap he had put around your middle, urging you silently to keep them there. “I have to get us up and out, stay put for two fucking seconds.”
He kept glancing back at you as he got the ship up into the air and prepared to jump. The weapon you had been shot with had been modified. You couldn’t keep yourself upright, legs shaking and arms holding your middle. You slowly moved yourself to the floor, not wanting to chance falling over and tearing open the wound anymore. Of twisting the piece of metal that was imbedded deep in your ribcage. Time passed, you don’t know how long, vision and awareness fading. You didn’t see the Mandalorian salute another as they came up into the airspace around the Crest and bid him an all-clear sign.
You were brought back to the present by the feeling of soft leather and something cold and sharp digging into your skin. The ship had jumped, you were sure of it, the mesmerizing colors of hyperspace cascading into the cockpit. Your eyes could barely make out anything other than the washes of celestial light panning over the beautiful armor of the Mandalorian, his focus on your injury as he used a metal tool to retrieve the bits of the bullet that was making it hard to breath. You were whimpering at every small movement of the tool inside your skin, pieces of the offending thing pinged along the durasteel floor of the ship the second they were wretched from your skin. Bloody and smearing the clean cabin as the ship continued to travel on.
You cried out, lungs punching air out of your entire body in a painful surge as the last and largest piece was pulled from you and thrown to the floor with the tool he had been using to retrieve them. You felt fresh, warm blood trickle down the side of your mouth. It coated your lips, you could feel it between your teeth and the taste of it was dizzying. Your head spun, your body hurt, your lungs burned, and your vision began to gray. His voice was sounding but you couldn’t make out any words. Suddenly the visor of his helmet was the only thing you could see through hazy eyes, the darkness of it beckoning you and you were ready to follow.
A sharp, hot feeling washed over you as the sound of another tool buried itself into your head and made you nauseas. You could feel your body jerk but could do nothing to stop it, a pressure was on your chest, over your heart that was holding you still. The quick, disjointed beating of it surely could be felt through your skin. The Mandalorian was working to close the wound with that same cauterizing tool he had used back on Arvala-7. Your mind going fuzzy and all sense of being zapped away as he tried to close the bleeding wound.
“Where would you want to go, if given the chance?” The question bubbled up from his chest before he could stop it. The color draining from your face and the blood soaking the worn leather of his gloves pulled it from within him. He wanted to know something personal about you, he realized. He wanted a small piece of you should this be one of your last moments. He wanted someone somewhere to know something real about you, not only what you were capable of and wanted for. He wanted to be that someone. It was against his creed to ask such questions of someone if your intention wasn’t courting, the notion lost on him in his anxiety.
Your lashes fluttered as you tried to train your eyes on the black of his visor. To not be swallowed by the darkness in them. Your eyes were so dull, a heavy feeling settled in his stomach as he realized he was losing you. The cauterizing tool fell from one hand to clatter soundlessly on the floor. His ears were strained, watching your lips move as you tried to get words out.
“I’ve never been asked that.” You sobbed as you felt him remove his hands from you, leaving you alone and untethered on the floor of his ship. Tears raced down your cheeks, warm and salty when they cascaded over your nose and down to your lips. It was just for a moment, his hands were pressing a bacta patch to your middle, light pressure to make sure the adhesive stuck to your skin. His eyes moved to watch the white rag soak up your blood as he wiped it across your skin, not able to take the sight of your face going slack. You murmured one last thing before your body gave out on you. “I’ve always loved the forest.”
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taglist: @moonknight-s-cumdump @js-favnanadoongi
dividers made by the lovely @cafekitsune
#dev writes#of beskar and kyber#the mandalorian#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#din djarin#din djarin fic#din djarin fanfic#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x force sensitive! reader#grogu#mando and grogu#din grogu#order 66 survivor#star wars#star wars universe#canon compliant#angst#angst and comfort#din is a softie but he's a professional#female reader#ao3#ao3 link#ao3 fic#archive of our own
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So this was inspired by the Exodan ships in Becky Chambers' Record of a Spaceborn Few and how they're laid out in recursive hexagons. I kind of just did it to see if I could, and started thinking architecturally / city planner style, so things aren't necessarily how they're described in the book, but how I would want a utopian nested hex city. I put in actual doors in the residential areas which was maybe unnecessary. It doesn't include manufacturing really, and I'm not totally sure where education goes, but there's some flexibility for a lot of things under the "retail" category. I preferred to make it all symmetrical rather than making district centers different. There could maybe be a bigger park around the Center, for composting, instead of "administration", which a society with internet may not need actual rooms for. Instead of handwaving that there's a transport level above this, I specifically tried to lay out a way to walk/ride through from any place to another, with some consideration for privacy, although sometimes traffic will go through your yard. Arguably there could be a 7th scale level, but I'm not going to torture InDesign any more.
The smallest unit is the hexagonal room. Homes are 5 rooms (sometimes 1 or 4 depending on throughway placement) and a half bath around a living room, which has a hallway going to the center of each hex. Hexes are made up of 6 homes around a yard and eating area with a kitchen in the middle, with households taking turns making one big 30 person meal a day. There are six hexes in a neighborhood around each park, and each park has a gym, pool, and public bath center servicing about 180 people. Six neighborhoods surround each district with shops, public spaces, services, and a clinic in the center for around 1080 people. The districts surround an administrative center, and death services in the middle. The whole ship houses around 6500 people.
#becky chambers#exodan fleet#record of a spaceborn few#wayfarers series#hexagons#recursion#utopian city planning#seed ship architecture
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I'm embarrassingly late, but if you're still having fun with the mistletoe prompts, I'd like to request Quiet with Fives/Tup <3
Mistletoe prompts
9. Quiet
Merry Christmas my friend!!
Coruscant never sleeps, but in this moment Fives feels like it might be holding one collective breath.
The view from their window isn’t much: the blocks of flats opposite, much the same as their own, and at night the reflections of some xenon lights off the bars below and holoboards lining the adjacent throughway. Tonight, though, the foot traffic is slowing, so the ambient chatter and bubble of the city has ebbed to a murmur.
There’s a widely-celebrated natborn holiday tomorrow and many of the flats and shops and establishments have festooned themselves with appropriate decoration. Fives had sourced some colourful lights for their own place, delighted by the cheerful look of them, and Tup had insisted on having some of the glittery tat to hang about the place, too.
They don’t know much of what it’s about, but the decorations look nice, and the younglings in the opposite unit like to peer out behind their curtains to watch the lights before their bedtimes. If nothing else, it’s good for morale
Tup had assured him some time ago that he was on his way home and most definitely hadn’t gotten lost. Fives may not be totally convinced, because Coruscant is a maze of a warren and the only place he will go without a navi to hand is the local corner shop, but he trusts Tup. So, he has a timer counting down to an hour before he’ll send out a search party.
The timer only reaches twenty-nine minutes elapsed by the time Tup activates the door lock and lets himself in.
“Hey,” he calls. “I’m back.”
“In one piece,” Fives replies, already in the entrance to greet him. “I’ll admit, for a moment you had me worried—”
Tup snaps out a fist to punch him in the shoulder. “It was one time,” he bemoans. “One time!”
“The greatest indicator of a repeat offense is a first incident.”
“Those jokes weren’t funny when Echo first came up with them.”
“Ah,” Fives says, grinning as he watches Tup roll his eyes and hang up his coat, “but they aren’t wrong.”
“Of course not,” Tup agrees. He reaches into one of the many bags he’s dumped in the hall and comes up with a fist full of plant and a roll of tape. “Here, I think you’ll find this more interesting. Help me stick it to the door frame.”
“That better not take the paint off,” Fives grumbles, but he does as he’s told. (It’s almost thrilling to think about how millions of credits’ worth of kaminoan engineering is currently being used as a glorified tape dispenser. Even if it hadn’t been Tup asking, doing so would be worth it just for that.)
“Perfect,” Tup declares. He steps back and surveys his work with a satisfied smile. “Don’t you think?”
“Lovely,” Fives agrees. “What is it?”
“The seller told me it’s a Mid-Rim tradition. Two people standing under this plant have to kiss, otherwise it’s bad luck.”
Fives frowns. “And is it good luck if they do?”
Tup smiles more and steps under it, turning around and pulling Fives with him. “I don’t know, but you have to kiss me now. Who knows what’ll happen?”
Smiling with him, Fives makes a show of consideration between Tup and the plant. “I don’t know… Maybe I’m willing to make the sacrifice…”
Tup’s jaw drops in mock outrage. “Hey!”
“For science, you know? Gotta test the theory, see if it has any credibility to it.”
“Or you could just kiss me.”
Tup doesn’t usually pull it out, but he is very, oddly good at using the power of his pout to get his way. Notably, this doesn’t work on anyone except Fives and Dogma and occasionally Rex; this has yet to be pointed out to any of them, and likely never will.
Fives snorts and leans in to bump their foreheads together amiably. “Of course,” he capitulates. “We’re always better off safe than sorry.”
“Not because I’m your wonderful partner, or anything.”
“Or anything.”
Kissing Tup is and has always been the only feeling Fives could possibly call home. Not their flat, though cozy and rightfully theirs. Not Coruscant. Certainly not Kamino. Tup, and everything that he is, and the way he chooses to share every part of himself with Fives: that is home.
His lips are soft and familiar and delightful against Fives’ own. He kisses like he means to stay here forever, and Fives is willing to let him, kissing back with full intentions to keep doing this until the day he dies.
The warmth of holding Tup close, strange decorations and holidays and Mid-Rim plants aside, is the only thing Fives never ever wants to see change.
“Hm,” Tup murmurs, pulling back and murmuring against Fives’ mouth. “Here’s hoping for some good luck coming our way.”
“I think I can see some coming very soon indeed,” Fives says. He begins to walk Tup backwards, away from the door and the outside world and towards their bedroom. “Very, very soon.”
Tup cackles and forces Fives to drag him the whole way there. He yells when Fives tries to shoulder lift him and tackles him to the floor instead, thoroughly derailing Fives’ well-planned operation. But get there they do, eventually, and Tup is still laughing, so Fives knows all must be good in their tiny, quiet corner of the galaxy.
#love these darlings <3#midnight on the dot of the 25th. hoping you have a good day!#fives/tup#cloneshipping#writing tag#mistletoe prompts#and with that my inbox is empty!
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I know my cities are small, but still sad i can't vote for em.
(Eureka, CA. Suck, but is my fav. Love the zoo there, cool sky walk n everything, but the prices have gone up recently for zoo entrance. Is small zoo, so only really expect to see like 10 max species and free cool skywalk in the trees)
You have a zoo? Fuck I need to get on the Coast Starlight immediately and then catch a throughway bus from Redding to Eureka. I fuckin love zoos
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Hey, you mentioned a while ago that you don't imagine the future because you feel like you can't, or you're not allowed.
Why are you then letting yourself be so vulnerable with Amy?
[Shadow sits in a locked room deep within the bowels of a GUN outpost. There, they flip through a briefing file. In and amongst the composite of information and evidence, they find this letter. Shadow stiffens, swallowing as they grind their teeth. Their eyes dart about, brow furrowing, until they land on a camera in the corner of the room facing them. Then, slowly, their eyes move towards a wall to the side of them, almost entirely made of a one-way mirror.]
[There's a pause.]
[Shadow takes a deep breath, settling their features as they move to stand. The door at the far end of the room unlocks and opens. A GUN soldier stands there, waiting.]
[Shadow moves forward, holding the file in one hand with the letter on top.]
Shadow: I do not know who is in charge of maintaining the quality of your classified documentation, but they need to keep their personal correspondence *out* of official paperwork.
[The GUN soldier takes the folder and looks at the letter. Their face sours instantly. Shadow leaves, walking briskly down the hallway, hands clenched into tight fists.]
[They make their way to a lockerroom. It is empty. Shadow stalks the throughway until they stop at their locker. As they fiddle with the electric combination lock, their hands start to shake. Once, twice, they mess up the combination. On the third time, Shadow slams their fist into the locker with a snarl.]
[All is still. They take a deep breath. They try the combination again. This time, the lock yeilds, and they open their locker. It's largely empty. There is a spare set of inhibitor rings, heavy cold-weather clothes, and a few chaos drives. Shadow pushes all of this aside to reveal, in the far back, a very narrow shelf on which hides a single dark chao figure, like one would get from a gacha pod.]
[Shadow reaches in, loosely cupping the toy in their hand as they run a thumb over its tiny head.]
[For a brief second, their stony expression cracks.]
#shadamy#AskShadow#shadow the hedgehog#ah ha ha I didn't forget ;)#anon#ask#SonicCharacterAsk#wow damn I hurt MYSELF writing this#...You guys are a lot gentler on Shadow than I normally would be- same with Amy#but there are some obstacles that are going to take a long- long time to come down#best of luck getting Shadow- and the rest of Team Dark- out of GUN's clutches#separated
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Lee Harwood
As Your Eyes Are Blue
As your eyes are blue
you move me—& the thought of you—
I imitate you.
& cities apart, yet a roof grey with slates
or lead, the difference is little.
& even you could say as much
through a foxtail of pain even you
when the river beneath your window
was as much as I dream, of. loose change &
your shirt on the top of a chest-of-drawers.
a mirror facing the ceiling & the light in a cupboard
left to bum all day a dull yellow
probing the shadowy room “what was it?”
“cancel the tickets”—a sleep talk
whose horrors razor a truth that can
walk with equal calm through palace rooms
chandeliers tinkling in the silence as winds batter the gardens
outside formal lakes shuddering at the sight
of 2 lone walkers
of course this exaggerates
small groups of tourists appear & disappear
in an irregular rhythm of flowerbeds
you know even in the stillness of my kiss
that doors are opening in another apartment
on the other side of town a shepherd grazing
his sheep through a village we know
high in the mountains the ski slopes thick with summer flowers
& the water-meadows below with narcissi
the back of your hand &—
a newly designed red bus drives quietly down Gower Street
a brilliant red “how could I tell you …”
with such confusion
meetings disintegrating
& a general lack of purpose only too obvious
in the affairs of state
“yes, it was on a hot July day
with taxis gunning their motors on the throughway
a listless silence in the backrooms of paris bookshops
why bother one thing equal to another
dinner parties whose grandeur stops all conversation
but the afternoon sunlight which shone in
your eyes as you lay beside me watching for … —
we can neither remember—still shines as you
wait nervously by the window for the ordered taxi
to arrive if only I could touch your naked shoulder
now “but then … ”
and the radio still playing the same
records I heard earlier today
—& still you move me
& the distance is nothing
“even you …
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Hannah said in one of the interviews that it’s as if fans of a T/R romance forgot that Ted was having a mild fling with Sassy.
We didn’t forget at all, it was one of multiple frustratingly dropped balls. Sassy was an interesting character whose issues were subtly shared but the show never did anything with them. She started off her friendship with Rebecca by bullying her when they were kids. That never came up again. She insulted Keeley at the funeral. That also never came up again. Rebecca says “I told you” to Keeley when Sassy asks if Ted is at Sam’s restaurant opening bc she’s trying to hook up with him. We will never have any inkling of what Rebecca is talking about. She has some kind of unsaid feeling, but it was never explained or used or put in context or commented upon.
Rebecca and Keeley could have processed Shandy by reflecting on Rebecca’s history with Sassy. Introducing Shandy as a throughway to contend with Sassy’s issues could have been a strategy for commentary on the complexities of female friendships beyond the two poles of “you go girl” and “you ain’t all that.”
Or how about Rebecca having a direct conversation with Sassy about her relationship with Ted beyond what he says in bed? Like, “Hey Sass, why are you sweating my wounded bird friend, please don’t fuck with his heart.”
Also, why does the first thing Ted asks the diamond dogs after he sleeps with Sassy is “should I tell Rebecca”? Why does he look so melancholy when he’s reminded that Rebecca knows that Sassy and him have sex occasionally bc of girl talk? We shall never know. They could have created a narrative that hinges on Ted and Rebecca’s friendship, or something about Ted having an unresolved crush on Rebecca, or that Ted and Rebecca are in love. Any of these could be engaged as a way to explain interesting things that happened but have no explanation. Instead, they are just a bunch of incomplete ideas threaded through the series.
So yes, I’m team tedbecca and I’m well aware that Ted was sleeping with Sassy. But…did the show forget?
Also, for a show that uses callbacks as bricks for story building, they never did a callback or even acknowledge the single most important iconic soulmate item of the show at the end:
Bringing an outsider in like Trent would have been a good opportunity to have someone be like, um, what’s up with the daily biscuits? An acknowledgment didn’t have to be romantic, but it was a key soulmate symbol that deserved attention in the end, and they could have played with it as a form of closure. But nope.
So are some fans frustrated because we’re forgetful or just romance-crazy? Or could it maybe, just maybe, signify some significant problems with an absence of payoff in the storytelling?
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Sunshower (18+)
Okay I finally finished it! Here's this WIP that I previewed a few months ago ':)
This takes place a couple months after their wedding!
Warning: SMUT ahead
On a day where the sun shone bright, they didn't expect to have any trouble on a short trip across the countryside. Eldin Bridge, an old and well-worn bridge on the eastern ends of the kingdom, was in desperate need of repairs, and so the queen wanted to personally assess the damage before conducting a thorough inspection.
While no one was quite comfortable allowing the queen to go unaccompanied, she was fairly miffed at the suggestion of having an entourage only a short way away from the castle, and so they settled on having her husband, the second-in-command and hero of their kingdom, singularly accompany her to and from the bridge. Mounting Epona, they rode through the eastern throughway and arrived in less than an hour.
Though he couldn't tell why, Link had a strange inkling that something was off. There was nobody in sight, save for lone creatures roaming the fields, and the weather seemed fine. Still, he trusted his instincts, and he kept his eyes and ears on high alert as he followed her along the span of the bridge.
Honestly, he wasn't surprised at all that it was in need of repairs. On his travels, he'd noticed the cracks and crumbles of the stone; a large chunk of it was even whisked away to the outskirts of the kingdom before he and Midna found and returned it. In its current state, it was likely not safe to use for much longer.
But it was a bit difficult to focus on the bridge and its durability. It was a rare thing for them to spend their days together, she with her council and he with the knights.
She was focused and diligent, analyzing every crack, humming to herself and taking notes at every stop. Hands folded behind his back, he trailed her quietly - save for the few times she threw a question his way - and watched the way her gloved hand grazed the stone, her lips pressed together in thought and the way her body arched when she bent forward.
Then, there was a drop on his shoulder. He raised his head to the glaring sun rays and the brilliant blue sky, unsullied by stormy clouds, and frowned. "Zelda," he said, cutting through the silence, and she hummed in response. "Do you feel something?" She turned to him then, brow raised, and it happened again. "It's raining."
"What?"
"It's-" He paused, momentarily questioning his own sanity before repeating, "It's raining." Before either could deliberate this strange notion, a torrent of rain rippled over them and Zelda gasped, throwing her hands out at the sudden downfall.
Being in the heart of the countryside was in no way a good place to be amidst a sudden storm, but fortunately, Link knew every crevice of the country, and so he grabbed her hand and sprinted forward to the other end of the bridge. Tucking her notes against her chest, she followed blindly, even when he took her to the most crumbled corner and yelled, "Jump!"
Normally, she'd be able to follow without issue, but as she landed on the wet and uneven chunk of stone, her heel slipped. Zelda let out a short scream as the image of plummeting to her death flashed through her mind, before she felt Link's hands envelop her waist and pull her to him.
She pressed herself to his chest, trembling, and let out a shaky sigh. Her heart was racing and she was soaked, her hair and clothes saturated with the onslaught of rain. Link was in no better state: his blond hair was darkened to a caramel brown and water dripped from the hem of his clothes.
"Are you o-" When she peeled away from him, their eyes met and the words died in his throat. He felt the blood rush to his cheeks.
It was the way her dark wet hair pasted to her skin, against her flushed cheeks and fair shoulders, while a few stray aways curled around her temples. Her clothes, heavy and laden, clung to her body and accented every curve. It was the way her lips were red and her breath was hot that made his pulse thrum against his wrist.
Zelda caught his slip-up, naturally - easily, and searched him carefully. And it took less than precisely two seconds for her to realize why. His heated gaze roamed her, unconcious but unrestrained, lingering at her cleavage. It was evident what was going through his mind.
Link realized he'd been caught by the time their eyes met, his cheeks terribly flustered and eyes wide. He swallowed and her breath caught.
It would be terribly improper to get carried away. And yet -
Their lips met in a frenzy. Should they have given it a second thought, they might've realized how absurd it was. Two warriors stranded in the middle of the countryside, chilled to the bone, and this was what they came up with.
But her back hit the wall, her hips pinned to the stone, and neither of them really thought twice. His body rolled against hers, each thrust sending a surge of heat through her body.
"Link," she breathed before kissing him again, grabbing hold of his shoulders and drawing him closer. "We shouldn't."
"I know," Link growled before kissing her again. He then veered off to her jaw, scattering a dozen more kisses, and Zelda moaned, throwing her head back against the stone.
His lips travelled to her neck, drinking up the raindrops that lingered. She was panting softly but it rang like thunder in his ears. His hands cupped her waist, rolling encouragingly in his grip, as his tongue followed the rivulets that trickled down her chest.
Had she worn one of her regular layered outfits, the sight might've been different, but as it was, her body was practically visible beneath the flimsy dress. The white of her skirts was translucent, her long legs outined by the gossamer fabric, and the burgundy bodice was drawn tight around her breasts.
The sight was irresistible. Everything she did was so addictive, so exhilarating; every pant sent a shudder down his spine, every taste leaving him breathless.
Holding him by the shoulders, as firm as the rocks of Death Mountain, she squeezed a little tighter when he fell to a knee. Link looked up at her with an intensity in his eyes that made her shiver. His wet bangs fixed to his forehead, the ends draping over his wild eyes and shedding droplets of water. "You're so beautiful." The heat of his palms burned through her skin, his fingertips pressing into her in a way that told her he wasn't letting go anytime soon.
Lovingly, Zelda pushed aside the bangs and cupped his cheeks. "Touch me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Despite the downpour, he heard her command loud and clear.
One hand gripped her sleeve from behind and pulled it down with a few short tugs, and it was drawn taut beneath her breasts, pushing them up in an enticing way. His eyes met hers again, finding no timidity nor shame in them. Zelda bore herself to him with dignity, even basked in his gaze, and he smiled. His tongue found her nipple and she gasped breathlessly, watching him devour her like a forbidden fruit. The taste of the rainwater mixed with her sweat, salty and cold, was revitalizing.
Meanwhile, Link peeled her skirts from her legs and bunched them up at her waist, immensely grateful that there were none of the typical layers beneath. Rubbing the heel of his palm against her, she let out a cry, her head tossing against the wall, and matched his rhythm with small, keen thrusts of her hips.
"Link, please just-" Her words fell on a paticularly loud gasp when he tucked his hand into her panties, where she wanted him. "Yes." His fingers hooked into her before thrusting deep and measured, and it left her mouth gaping.
Her fingers fanned over the sides of his neck and tilted his jaw upwards, pulling on him like the reins of a stead so that their eyes might meet. His gaze was staved, droplets of rainwater dripping from his hair and following the seam of his gaping mouth. Just the way that he touched her, deep but slow, hungry but savouring, showed her how much he loved her. Every kiss was indulgent, every touch reverent; the intensity in which Link wanted her made her body tremor.
She moaned, locking her fingers at the back of his neck and pulling him up to kiss her frantically. He made a noise from the sudden collision of their mouths and his movements in her faltered for just a moment. But her kiss encouraged him to quicken his pace and when they parted, he leaned his forehead against the wall, just over her shoulder, his heavy breaths echoing in the shell of her ear.
His hungry eyes were drunk with passion, staring blankly at the sharp line of her brow, and he whispered, "Does this feel good?"
Turning her head the slightest, she rested her cheek against his, heat burning between them. Breathlessly, she answered, "It's so...so good."
His stomach lurched: her voice, her pleasure, it was all too much; he couldn't stand it anymore. His pulse went into overdrive and he suddenly pulled away.
Tucking his hands beneath her, he lifted her clear off the ground, his years of being a goat herder finally paying off. She gasped, grabbing hold of him to steady herself, and he flashed her a wolfish grin, his wild eyes shimmering with laughter. Even then, in the peak of their pleasure and the depths of their deprivation, he was himself: handsome and rugged, yet charming and boyish.
Pressing her further against the wall for stability, he freed himself from his trousers, and as her ankles locked behind him, he entered her in one swift thrust. Zelda cried out, her voice getting lost to the heavy rain.
He moved within her with slow but deliberate movements, punctuated with soft grunts in her ear. One of his hands held her steady and the other cupped her cheek – tender as always but just a little bit rough, a little bit desperate. Pleasure jolted through her, settling in the place they connected. "Please," she begged, "don't stop."
"I won't." His words were unfaltering, his voice a low tenor, and it made her whimper. Her muscles clenched around him, unwilling to let go, and she wrenched his head back to catch his lips, drinking him in with open-mouthed kisses. Each time they parted, she spotted the frustration and want in his face, his eyes clouded and lost in hers.
His patience was thinning by the moment, his want mounting to an apex, and Zelda felt it as his hips snapped against her. Needing to feel her pulse against him, he dropped his hand from her cheek and snaked it between them, rubbing her where she needed it the most. She gasped. "Link…!" Her toes curled in her boots, clicking behind him, enthralled by his brazen ways. "Link, I'll-"
"Please." She stilled for a moment as her entire body went taut, curling up against him and gripping his shoulders for dear life. He buried his face against her neck and murmured, "Zelda." Tracing the expanse of her neck with his lips, he drank up the raindrops gathered in her collarbone, and she angled her head to help.
Every sensation, his tongue, his fingers, his member inside her, sparked something inside her, setting her on fire despite her drenched clothes. She coiled her arms around his neck and cried out against his shoulder, clinging onto him as her orgasm came over her. It coursed through her in ripples, causing her to spasm against him and cry out in pleasure.
It only revigorated him, hastening his thrusts into her tight passage, deep and desperate. Retracting his hand from between them, he reached behind her and cradled her head, fingers laced in the wet locks of her hair. Zelda cried out again from the sensation, amplified by his rough and desperate rutting and his orgasm ripped through him, sharp and sudden. His cry was muffled against her neck and drowned out by the rain still pouring outside.
There was a still moment as their shudders died down and the rainfall gradually replaced the ringing in their ears. Even as Link gently set her down, his lips continued their journey across her neck, just indulging in her taste and smell, permeated with sweat and rainwater, and the warmth radiating off her. Her skirts fell heavily against her legs and his hand drifted down her back, fingers sifting through her hair.
"That was..." Zelda started breathlessly, "unexpected."
Link leaned his forehead against hers, his breath fanning her lips. "I'm sorry, it's just-" He licked his lips. "You...I've never seen you like that."
"Like what?"
"You're soaking wet from the rain. You look...amazing."
The heat returned to her cheeks and she simply let out a breathless laugh. "Perhaps we should stay out in the rain more often."
He shuddered. "Yes, please."
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