#— ❛❛ // OOC ¦ Look At All Those Chickens! ・ 「 Prompts 」

[pescastories]

❤

[ryukatters]

from the start — s. gojo ⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊

⟡ a/n: no thoughts head empty just satoru. annoyed!reader x lovesick!gojo will always hit idcidc!! Also I was listening to "from the start" by laufey while writing this

⟡ pairing: satoru gojo x fem! reader

⟡ content: fluff, mutual pining, idiots to lovers, awkward first kisses, ooc! gojo for a little bit, reader gets called a good girl, gojo's a little more emotionally intelligent than reader, takes place during your guys’ third year at jujutsu high (we ignore premature death and hidden inventory)

⟡ word count: ~1k

⟡ credits to this prompt list

Your first kiss with Gojo doesn’t go as planned.

Not that you were ever planning on kissing him in the first place— you might even argue that it was completely impulsive and spur of the moment. 

It’s just you and Satoru today, with Suguru being away on a mission and Shoko at the morgue, as usual. It's been a while since your schedules have matched up, so both of you decide to hit up your usual spot off campus. Satoru’s treat, he insists.

"You deserve it, after all," he says, slinging an arm around your shoulder, "you've been working so hard lately."

"Are you sure you're not just using me as an excuse to stuff your face full of food?" you huff, trying your best to wrestle his arm off you, but to no avail. If anything, it prompts Gojo to wrap both of his arms around you, with the two of you waddling together in a sort of quasi-conga line.

"Nah," he laughs, and a whispered "just wanna spend time with you, 's all," follows after.

The two of you are nestled in the comfort of the small cafe, tucked away from the harsh bite of frigid autumn air. You have a plate of fresh yakitori on the table in front of both of you— why he insists on sharing when he has the appetite of an elephant, you don’t know. 

“Say ahhhh,” he says, lifting a skewer to your mouth, to which you scowl.

“You are not feeding me.” 

He pouts, head tipped forward to reveal those annoying, blue puppy eyes underneath his glasses. “Pretty please?”

“No, Satoru. I can feed mysel—“ your reprimand is cut short by Gojo shoving the piece of chicken in your mouth. He even takes the liberty to grip your chin so you can close your mouth and chew. 

“There you go, good girl,” he smiles easily. You want to dump your bubble tea on top of his head. Instead, you decide to show a bit of decorum and ignore the overgrown furby next to you. 

He’s always like this. Flirting and teasing and being an overall menace to you. Sometimes, you think you can see some truth behind his act, but Satoru is Satoru and that means being an overall headache is engraved into his very soul. You choose to ignore your fluttering heartbeat whenever he's around.

It’s quiet for a moment, and quiet plus Satoru is never a good combination. You dare to look at him, gaze flitting over his annoyingly soft hair, annoyingly pretty eyes, sharp nose, plush, pink lips—

“You so want to kiss me right now,” he declares matter-of-factly. Those same lips are now upturned in an annoyingly handsome smirk.

“Now how did you come up with that ridiculous idea?” You sigh, slight exasperation lacing your features.

He leans in, close enough to be in your bubble, and pauses for a moment, as if he’s thinking long and hard studying your expression before cracking an obnoxiously wide grin and tapping your nose— “It’s written all over your face!” 

You scoff before giving his shoulder a rough shove, to which he laughs. Satoru thinks it's cute when you're a little worked up, and now he wants to kiss you.

Gojo doesn’t understand why you refuse to acknowledge the painfully obvious tension between you two. He likes you, a lot. In fact, he thinks it wouldn’t be a stretch to admit he’s just the tiniest bit in love with you after all these years. If he's being honest, he's getting a little desperate. He's not sure how much longer he can ignore the crushing feeling in his chest that seems to wound tighter with each passing day he's not yours. And he's confident that you at least somewhat reciprocate those feelings. So why fight it?

“Oh, what? Don't tell me I made you all shy no—mmfh!!” It’s your turn to cut him off, pressing your lips to his softly.

You're not entirely sure why you kissed Satoru in the first place. Maybe you just wanted him to shut up for once, to be the one that flusters him, or maybe, just maybe, you were tired of this push-and-pull dynamic that's been plaguing your entire friendship from the moment you two met. You think you're tired of swimming against a current so strong, that maybe you should just stop fighting it and see where it takes you.

It takes every single ounce of restraint in Gojo’s body to not flail around like a complete idiot when your lips meet his. 

You swear you can feel a slight residue stain your lips. Was he wearing lip balm? 

When you pull back, Gojo stays there, frozen in place. 

It’s almost comical, the way his blue eyes flutter open before they widen like saucers, a pink flush steadily creeping up his chest to the tips of his ears. You think you might have broken him. 

For the first time in the entirety you’ve known Satoru, he seems to be at a loss for words. 

For how suave the Gojo heir seems to be most of the time, you think it's a little funny how you can shut him up with a simple kiss. It's almost cute, and strangely comforting, in a way, how you can reduce the strongest sorcerer to a blushing mess. You’re left wondering where his big ego and all that confidence went.

You make the move to clean up after the both of you, but Satoru stops you with a hand wrapped around your arm, tugging you back down to sit, your thigh brushing his.

“Can we do that again?” Ah, there it was.

It’s your turn to be shocked. Satoru takes the silence as a chance to explain himself, “They say the second time’s the charm."

“Was the first time not charming enough for you?” You tease. 

“It was,” he smiles, leaning in as one hand cups your cheek, “but the second time’s going to be even better, I promise.” 

Work belongs to @ryukatters. Please do not repost or translate my writing anywhere.

[cherubmm]

𓆩☀️𓆪⇢ ˗ˏˋ WARMTH࿐ྂ

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━FEATURING: SWAPDREAM.dream

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━CONTENT WARNING: Yandere in general. Soft yandere. Unhealthy attachment. Obsessive & Possessive behavior. Hinted of god complex. Implied of sexual advances. Unwanted advances. Invasion of privacy. manipulation hinted. Delusional mindset. Nonconsensual touches are presented. Implied power imbalance. OOC. Proofread

⊱.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ━━━━PROMPT BY: cherubmm

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: The next upcoming fics will delay than the usual. This one is supposed to be at 17 but I'm really busy right now.

“let's stay like this more, darling~. My bones feel freezing cold without your warmth.”

A boyish, heartfelt purr buzzed right against your ear, sending unwanted chills through you despite the suffocating heat. You tried to move, to squirm away, but your body was sluggish, weak. The hold on you was too tight. Everything felt unbearably hot—both inside and out. Your skin was sticky, damp with sweat that made your clothes cling uncomfortably. Your mind was a foggy mess, thoughts barely forming as if stuck in the heart of desert.

Even the air you breathed was thick and oppressive, warm in a way that felt unnatural, like you were inhaling straight from a furnace. Your body worked overtime to keep up with the intensity of it, but the more you tried to resist, the more exhausted you became. Your chest heaved, each breath heavy and labored, your vision wavering as the world around you blurred.

The heat was unbearable, like the walls themselves were closing in, trapping you in an oven. You barely managed to squirm, your energy draining more and more with each second spent in his iron-like grip. It felt like you were suffocating..

“Aww, what’s got you all sweated up, hmm~? Can’t handle a bit of my affection?”

His voice was sickeningly sweet, laced with amusement as he watched you struggle beneath him. Dream’s face was stretched in a playful, almost predatory grin, completely unfazed by your feeble resistance. Of course, why would he be? To him, you looked utterly adorable.... writhing next him like a helpless little chick, freshly hatched and ready for the world — or, in this case, ready for him.

And oh, does he loved having you close. Sharing his warmth with you felt like a gift only he could offer, something you clearly needed.

his grip tightened around you even more, pulling you closer, almost flush within the cage of his bony riibs, as if he was trying to absorb you entirely. The only thing stopping you from getting even closer was his shirt, a barrier between you that the vibrant god found a bit pesky. His wings—large, radiant and made purely of glowing positivity—folded around you like a cocoon, trapping even more heat between you.

You groaned, trying to will yourself to break free, but every attempt only made the hold around you stronger. You were trapped.

“D-Damnit… Dream…” you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. You wished you could curse him out properly, something far more offensive, something that would knock that smug smile right off his face. You felt pathetic. How the hell did you even end up here?

You briefly winced at the fogged memory. This fucking chicken had broken into your home—again—like it was some kind of privilege playground only for him. He’d bypassed your locks, your security system, everything. The absurd part? All your devices—brand new, mind you—had conveniently overheated and fried. It was like a sick joke, except you were the punchline.

“Hm~? What was that?” Dream’s voice broke through your hazy thoughts, his tone a mocking sing-song. “I couldn’t quite hear you over all those cute noises you’re making— not that I'm complaining, of course"

You wanted to scream, to rip whatever cursed magic was inside him that made him speak, but your body felt like it was being crushed under the heat.

He shifted his position slightly, making sure to keep you pressed tightly against him, then rolled the both of you so that you were lying flat beneath him. His weight pressed down on you, but it wasn’t the weight that was suffocating—it was the scorching heat. It was everywhere, creeping into every part of you.

Dream leaned down close to you, his breath tickling your exposed skin as he let out a playful puff of air. You flinched, the sensation somehow managing to feel like scalding water hitting your skin. His bony hands trailed lazily over your form, his sharp fingers hooking under your shirt as he slowly lifted it, exposing your stomach to his hungry eyes.

“Hmm, look at this, soft skin… and so warm. Just perfect" The Epitome of positivity purred, more to himself than to you, as he traced circles over your exposed flesh. His sharp phalanges kneaded and pinched at your flesh, testing, as though the god were playing with his food.

Without warning, he lowered his head, hovering his face just inches above your skin. His golden-orange tongue slipped out from his cages teeth, glistening in the dim light as he ran it down your stomach, tasting the sweat that had pooled there.

Your breath hitched in shock, and you tried to squirm away, but his grip on you only tightened further.

“So warm, so perfect. I could just stay here forever, don’t you think?” His pinprick eyes dilated as he licked his lips, savoring every moment of your discomfort.

“Forever’s gonna be really short if you keep this up,” you muttered, trying to summon even a sliver of your usual defiance despite the heat still making your head spin.

Oh, you’re so dramatic, my little darling,” he teased, his wings flexing as he pulled you tighter. “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure you never feel cold again." With a strangled sneer, you wished more than ever that you could at least slap that grin off his face. But the most you could manage was to slump against him in defeat, the heat stealing what little energy you had left.

“Well, since you’re already so comfortable,” Dream continued with a mockingly sympathetic tone, “let’s just enjoy this warmth together, hmm?”

You didn’t even have the energy to groan.

Ⓒ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐦𝐦 ──── 10/18/24. Navigation | Masterlist

[nyxisnthere1]

Writing Prompt

No cause this literally came to me when I was cutting chicken 😭😭😭.

Characters maybe OOC. Credits to @k1ssyoursister for the Xie Lian divider.

Fukurojin

(Chinese god of Wisdom) although depicted as ugly, is not. He is a mix of handsome and beautiful with a mature aura that commands you to respect him. Blasted stereotypes.

Once Xie Lian got the unfortunate title of 'god of misfortune', Fukurojin decided to greet the so-called 'god of misfortune'. Of course he was questioned because of his actions because even if you are a god of wisdom, the others aren't and so they will question whatever you do without thinking for themselves. It's the reason why they isolate Xie Lian and believe that 'curse' on him anyways.

"This servant greets you, Xie Lian-ge. The Fates love shine upon you." Fukurojin bowed, placing his fist into his palm. 

Xie Lian held grasped Fukurojin's hands, "Please do not bow. We are all equal here. And I would not think the Fates love me with how my century has been."

Fukurojin looked at him in astonishment, "The Fates have been treating you like their own! You are destined for great things, Jiāyóu, the Fates have been testing where you to see where your strength lies to strengthen your weaknesses and to show you who thy friends are. You are loved more than you'll ever understand or believe."

"I... I don't understand? Why did my Xianle have to fall? Why did my parents have to die?" Questioned Xie Lian.

"The Fates worked in mysterious ways. They look at the entire picture instead of half as we so-called 'gods' do. Maybe there were things you didn't saw but they saw and didn't like it." Replied Fukurojin.

"Then why didn't they stop there? Why let me go through all of this? If they can see everything why can't they just... just I don't know, let my burden be easier?"

"Not even I know why, but be strong and follow your heart and listen to those who are still with you because they are the ones that truly care." Fukurojin let's out a smile of encouragement before walking towards his home feeling lighter, because he's managed to stop someone else from going the same path as he did.

[archeolgstarch]

i don’t wanna toot my own horn but like i did a THIRD of my replies. i hope this muse sticks with me tomorrow cause there are some threads i’m really excited for + i wanna work on those ask prompts and see if i’ll have to forgo some of them.

[vumming]

all of us are dead — yoon gwi nam “ocean”

requested by : 🏹 anon [ can i request another gwi nam one shot pls? (sorry i love him and there isn’t enough fics about him lol) kinda like a pt2 to my other request but they find a room together but can it be a locker room or just another room that has a bathroom with a shower? reader is covered in blood and gwi nam washing the reader and himself while he keeps praising her for small things like (ur doing so well, that’s it just relax, good girl that type of thing) and he gets her into new clothes that are clean and cuddles her to calm her down. ]

warning : cringe(?) g*i-na*m ooc, suggestive, rqst changed a bit, soft bastard

Gwi-nam lifted you to take a seat on the sink, his hands glide on your clothed soft thighs as he examines your messy appearance. Brushing a few dirt off of your face with the ever so usual tough look plastered on his features. “What exactly did you even do to get this much stuff on yourself.” He sneers at the grime on your face, wiping them off with napkins, disgust written all over his expression.

The white stained in brown and red as he draws them all over your face, holding your jaw to align it straight, his eyes that held nothing but ease and care oftentimes making in contact with yours.

“I escaped from the zombies.” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his words and you watched him groan before slapping himself on the face, massaging it until his eyes flutter open to look at you.

“Besides, shouldn't you be more worried about yourself? You're literally covered in blood! And not to mention your eyes!”

“It's not about me, it's about you, doll.” Gwi-nam muttered in response, deep voice barely audible if not for the closeness that you two have.

Frowning, your hands made in contact with his cheeks, cupping them like he does to yours as you stare at him with twinkling gaze. “You matter too! Of course I'll be fretting over you, you're my boyfriend!” Pouting as you shake him—his head to be exact, back and forth like a rag doll.

Gwi-nam's hand left your face to find purchase on your thighs, the other on the marble sink as he tries to stabilize himself.

“H-hey! Sto- stop!”

“No! Not until you realize that you're a mess too!”

“Yah! Stop it or I'll make you more of a mess!” He growls in warning prompting you to shut up and halt your attack, for the lack of better word. “Hmph, that's what I thought.” Gwi-nam adds when he watches your eyes grew bigger than saucers—registering his statement.

“Then make me.”

“What?” Now that, was something he didn't expected. Gwi-nam pinched your thigh with a look that tells you something. He knows for sure that you can be cheeky if you want to but it never fails to left his surprised whenever you'd do so of sort. Even after all the years that he had spent with you—Gwi-nam still felt aghast when you'd dare show him your bold side.

“I said, make me. Of course, unless you wanna chicken out-”

The boy pulls you to his body close by dragging your legs close, growling in your ear with a slight tease, “Be careful of what you're wishing for doll, or I might just take those literally.” Drawing giggles from your lips with you draping your arms over his shoulders, a silent invitation. Gwi-nam nuzzles further in your palm, kissing the inside while his gaze locked with your mesmerizing e/c eyes.

Gwi-nam hummed in contentment at the gesture.

The ambiance seems right, despite the apocalypse, everything is so calm and deadly sweet. He lets your hands map his face oh so calmly and delicately and he found himself leaning in for more of your touch. Eyes trained to yours while they twinkle in delight at the thought of you only admiring him, and him only.

Yeahh, that's right..

It's only him that you should look at like that; eyes set full of adoration and contentment. Gwi-nam, subconsciously knows—and he tries his best to push it all back, that you and him aren't compatible. He isn't enough for a girl like you. He knows it. Yet the boy wouldn't want to leave you.

He wants this, he needs this.

He needs you.

And Gwi-nam somehow came to slowly lean in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, eyes fluttering close when they made in contact. His thumb brushing circles on your thigh and the other supports your neck.

Your hands threads through his locks, tangled yet soft, there's a bit of a slick due to the blood but you pushed them into your mind, Lips parting in instinct when you felt him draw a lick to your plump lips, biting them a bit. Gwi-nam made an entrance, exploring every cavern and ridges, leaving nothing untouched as he fight yours for dominance—shifting your spot, you find yourself pulling him closer; his lean body pressed against yours as he tried to devour you, following along your tug.

Breathing through the feverish kiss, you fought along him. Winning in the end as you get to tangle yours with his, emitting a groan of pleasure to escape his lips, hands sliding up to the waistband of your pants to drop them. A cute small plop was produced when the fabric hits the cold floor of the bathroom.

Gwi-nam felt intoxicated—he feels so vulnerable when with you and he likes it, despite his usual gangster façade that is always on guard. You find yourself bare when he took your uniform off, him parting to take off his as well, unbuttoning them with your feeble hands.

Gwi-nam resume the kiss again, his lips drawing down to your jaw, chin, neck and collarbone. Sucking on the skin and feeling you arch your back, he couldn't help but chuckle at your reaction, vibration not helping. “Beautiful.”

Compliments that found themselves to escape his lips thrown to you when he saw your bothered expression.

Butterflies flutter profusely inside of your stomach, it is known that Gwi-nam causally compliments people, be it through bullying or teasing but this—God, it feels so genuine. So true that your heart can't help but twist in happiness.

With his hands fumbling to reach your undergarments before you stopped his eager hands. Breathing through the parting kiss, “Gwi-nam...”

“Yes, doll?” He breathes, eyes still in a fever along with yours. Your legs closing in on his waist when he tries to pull away from your hold.

“You stink.”

And your lover deadpanned at your words, moving away to smell his body, “Wha- no I don't-”

“With your heightened senses, I thought you'd be more self-aware.” Gwi-nam facepalmed, way to go ruin the room oh beloved y/n—now what?

He moves close to you before lifting you up in his arms, “Then we'll go continue this at bath, yeah?”

“H-hey! Let me go!” But he didn't listened, only grinning when you pout at him.

The two of you ended up warming under the shower, cold licks of water flows down your skin, Gwi-nam washing the blood that sticks to his eyes and face with a slight groan before feeling your warm arms go around his waist, chest against his back that made him crane his neck to look at you whose hair sticks to their skin, eyes looking up at him happily.

“Shit.”

He cursed under his breath when your finger starts to hover on his skin, drawing patterns and shapes as they map along his muscles.

“That tickles.”

“Really?” You giggled at his drawn expenses, hiding his face behind one hand before sweeping the wet hair that restricts his vision. Turning his figure to encase your smaller body into his. “You're brave today.”

“Only because I am with you.”

He hums, “That's right, I'll protect you after all. I said it before, yeah?” Leaning down to boop your nose eliciting a squeal from you. He remembers seeing your scared look when he found out where you hid, terrified and alert— yet almost ready to give up until they shine when you saw him. God, he was glad that you're by his side now. Gwi-nam sighed, his palm takes the curve of your cheek.

“Turn around then, I'll wash you.”

“But I can do it myself.”

“And I want to do it for you so,” following to his words, Gwi-nam gestures with his finger for you to turn around making you comply. Relaxing when his fingers massage your scalp and entangles the knots of your hair. A shampoo that is left from the sports team left there to use. “That's right, y/n. You're doing so well.” Foam and bubbles slides down from your head, the atmosphere made you forget that outside of this room is a battlefield for survival.

From your head to your neck and travelling to your shoulders to knead them, “Relax, doll.” He kisses the skin of your nape, soft and low tone that brought tranquility. His touched relieving you from your stresses, you remembered earlier how lonely you are, struggling alone until he managed to find you.

“Ease up. I'm here.”

And at his voice, your hand creeps their way to hold his. “Thank you, love.”

Your fingers laces with his and Gwi-nam let loose in the moment, laying his head on your shoulder. “Anything for you doll.”

[mxdarling]

[Poetry time]

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

ೃ⁀➷: summary: you weren't expecting a love letter to appear on your desk, especially from someone you very much like.

ೃ⁀➷: Word count: 453

ೃ⁀➷: Reference/Inspiration: {Link}

ೃ⁀➷: era: !

[note:] If there is anything else triggering here that I didn’t list in the warnings section, please tell me.

[Warnings:] fluff, shitty poem writing, reader is hopelessly romantic, mentions of fear of rejection, ooc tsumugi aoba, rushed ending.

[GN reader.]

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ :Tsumugi Aoba;

You never expected to find a love poem, much less find one on your desk.

You've never been the type of person to send or receive love letters or love poems of any kind. You had no crushes to declare your love to, and even if you did, you'd chicken out in confessing due to fear of rejection.

Consider the individual you had a significant crush on in high school who had the arrogance to dump your love letter in the garbage can in front of you. Oh, how that broke your romantic heart so deeply.

Another example is your ex-best friend, with whom you broke up after they realized they didn't feel the same way about you. After that, you stopped communicating with them. Thankfully, you have given up your friendship with them and your feelings for them. However, it still stung. Perhaps if you had taken some action, you two could still be friends.

But the past is the past, and it cannot be changed.

After spending too much time daydreaming about former loves, you almost forgot about the love poem you are holding. It came in a lovely envelope. Directly in the center, where you're supposed to open it, is a small heart.

You carefully opened the envelope, being careful not to wrinkle it. It had so much significance since, after all, it was a love poem. You took the letter out of the envelope and saw how neatly the paper was folded. It appears that someone put a lot of work into this. So you hope it's not a joke and that it genuinely is a love poem because if it is, that will simply add to your previous failed mission of finding someone who likes you back.

You then unfolded the paper, and began to read the contents written on the paper you were holding.

[Written version:]

A beautiful star

I’ve spent most of my days looking at you from afar Admiring you like you’re a star One from million up in the sky Yet you were only one that caught my eye You, the star shining the darkening night Blessing me with your glorious light I can feel my breath quicken whenever I look at you Wishing you’d feel the same way too Mustered the courage to finally give this letter In hopes of finally being together

To: [Last name] [First name] From: Aoba Tsumugi

You pondered the love poem you had just read and the person who had given it to you after you had finished it.

Tsumugi Aoba... is the one who gave you the love poem.

What are the possibilities? You like the same person who gave you the poetry. You must be having a lucky day! Not everyone can have their crush like them back. Very few end up having their feelings respond in kind. Even while having such intense feelings for someone already seems intense, knowing that those feelings are shared makes you feel warm and joyful within.

Right now, you're experiencing that, with a big smile on your face and ear-to-ear flush on their face. They take the love poetry close to their heart and hold it there.

The next time you see him, you should possibly express your feelings to him.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅• •❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

[a/n; Hello sorry have been kind of dead lately, been burnt out from all the school work. I'm also sorry for not making any updates I tend to forget I have a writing blog lmao, but to make up for it here's a writing for a twitter ensemble stars prompt I've bookmarked. It might take a couple months for me to post the requests seeing as I haven't started writing yet. But slowly but surely I'll finish it just be patient with me😭!! Anyways have a great day/afternoon/night!!]

[javier-pena]

triumvirate

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader x Katie

Word Count: 13.7k (I know, I know ...)

Rating: Explicit (and I mean explicit, this is the most explicit thing I’ve ever written)

Summary: You and Javi have been talking about inviting someone into your bed, just to see what it would be like. But you had no idea he already has someone in mind.

Warnings: mentions of food and alcohol | some language | threesome (f/f/m) | thigh riding | fingering | oral (m and f receiving) | light choking | light dirty talk | unprotected (p in v) sex | praise kink if you squint | size kink if you squint | orgasm delay/denial | sub!Javi until he’s definitely not | multiple orgasms | creampie

Notes: This started as a brief conversation I had with Dani @javierpcna while making a gifset actually, and it turned into this huge fic involving a character that doesn’t even speak a single line of dialogue (yes, this is Katie, the woman from the elevator in s3e1, the one who looks at Javi ... respectfully). I actually don’t remember the last time I had this much fun writing anything, so I guess I will be writing more Javi fics in future ... also, as always, huge thanks to Dani for putting up with my crazy ideas for a week, for encouraging me, for sacrificing a Sunday evening to read this, and for kindling the flames that brought this on in the first place! Also I believe Javi doesn’t share but he can be a bit ooc - as a treat ...

***

Javi doesn’t like to talk about his work. He doesn’t like to “bring it home” with him, even though the word “home” is all relative to him. He keeps quiet about it when you’re at his flat, that’s sacred ground to him, but your flat is fine. So when he’s at your place, he sometimes talks about his colleagues, the paperwork he needs to finish, how his boss got on his nerves today. You know there is much he could tell you, a lot he doesn’t share on purpose, and some things he never mentions because he’s not proud of them.

At first, you are worried because he doesn’t let you in. You aren’t used to having someone in your life who keeps so much hidden from you, especially someone you slowly, over time, start to share everything with, from a cup of coffee over breakfast, over a cigarette during a hasty lunch break, to sighs and moans, joined hands and heartbeats under the cover of the night. Especially someone you slowly but surely find yourself falling in love with, someone you want to share your life with, but also someone who doesn’t seem to feel the same way, who keeps a part of himself hidden behind tailored suits and starched shirts. It makes you nervous and wary when he never answers your questions, it hurts you when he changes the subject, sometimes quite cruelly, but over time you begin to see this arrangement as something enjoyable.

In all your previous relationships, you’d mostly talked about work, discussed your day, asked boring questions to get boring answers from your partner. Maybe that is the reason why they never lasted – you were so preoccupied with involving each other in your professional lives that you never focused on the personal aspect of your relationships. But with Javi you’re forced to talk about something else, about anything else, books, movies, music, travels, that little dog you saw on the street today, how your mother is doing, the sock that has gotten lost in the dryer. And you love this about him, love how you’d gotten to know an entirely different version of him than most people know. Granted, he doesn’t watch a lot of movies and he doesn’t listen to a lot of music, he hardly ever has time to read, but he’s seen the world, he tells you stories you don’t bore of hearing repeatedly, while your fingers lay entwined on his broad chest, the warmth of his skin seeping into your body, his breath tickling your hand, while he talks, and you listen. Sometimes, on the rare occasion he cooks for you, he tells you about his childhood, about how his mother taught him to kill a chicken (“If you can eat it, you can kill it”), about how is father gave him his first beer to drink when he was eight (“It’ll make a man out of you”), about how his grandmother showed him which spices to use for what dish (“Never mix garlic and lemon juice, it’ll turn the garlic green”). It’s moments like these where you feel he trusts you. You don’t need him to give you a detailed rundown of his day, to tell you how badly his morning coffee tasted, how boring his meeting was, how much his colleagues annoyed him. Getting to know this personal side of him, the one you know he doesn’t usually share, that’s enough for you.

You trust him, and he trusts you.

His withdrawnness when it comes to his work is the reason you’re completely caught by surprise when you’re over at his place one cloudy Saturday afternoon for a late lunch and he mentions work. You’re the one cooking this time, a stew your grandmother taught you to make, and while you wait for it to finish simmering, you sit at his small kitchen table, lost in idle conversation. And no matter how idle those conversations get, talking to Javi is never boring, and that is one of the things you love about him. But when he does mention work – and nothing prompts it, no probing questions on your part about a torn shirt you find lying discarded on his couch, no need to share something with you out of weariness and frustration on his part – you are immediately snapping to attention. It’s infuriating how he does it, casually, while he fills a glass with tap water for you.

“There’s this girl at work,” he says, and your ears prick up at the word work, immediately on guard. He turns off the water but doesn’t turn to look at you when he continues. “I think … I think you would … like her.”

It’s so uncharacteristic of him to be this careful, almost flustered – is that a flush you see creeping up his neck? He’s usually very assured, he usually has no trouble making eye contact, he usually says what he needs to say with as little or as many words as he sees fit. So when he stammers and blushes like this, you can’t help but smile. You can guess, of course, what this is about. You’ve mentioned a few times that you miss your friends back home, that you sometimes feel lonely and wish you had more people to talk to. And he remembered, he listened to you and he remembered, which makes a warmth spread from your chest to your limbs, and the corners of your eyes crinkle with a soft smile.

“Is that so?” you ask teasingly.

He turns around and takes the two steps to close the distance between the sink and the table. You take the glass from him as soon as he stands in front of you.

“She’s … nice,” he tries to elaborate. He sits down next to you and takes your hand into his, his skin warm to the touch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles as he watches moisture gather on your glass. It is a hot day, and the windows of his small kitchen are open, allowing for the sounds of the city to drift in, to swirl around the two of you, to give you some background noise to the comfortable silence that sometimes settles between you. “She’s funny,” he continues finally. “Ambitious, too. Junior agent. You have a lot in common.”

That sounds more like the Javi you know; observant, good at reading people, good at making connections. He’s still not looking at you though; it feels like he’s asking you something big, something life-changing, not like he’s trying to help you find a friend.

“Yeah, she sounds nice,” you agree. You raise the glass with your free hand and take a sip of water. “I’d like to meet her.” And even if you shouldn’t get along, there is no harm done. But you feel like you will because Javi is very good at reading people and if he says that this woman is someone you would like to spend time with, you know you will.

“You would?” His head snaps up in surprise, and it makes you smile again. As if you could ever refuse him! And if he’d ask you to move to Antarctica with him, you wouldn’t hesitate. But you can understand his tentativeness because you haven’t technically told him that. Yes, Javi is easy to talk to, but not when it comes to feelings. Those conversations are reserved for the dead hours of the night, for when it feels like you two are the only people in the world, for when you both know you can open up to each other, be at your most vulnerable state without the other person taking advantage of it, of crushing it like a fallen leaf. And you haven’t had many of those conversations yet.

Still, your heart picks up speed at the thought of how he’s looking out for you, of how he met a woman at work and thought to himself that you maybe would like to be her friend, how he was nervous to bring it up because he thought he might have misread your needs. But if there is one thing Javi is brilliant at, the one thing no one else in your life has ever been able to do, it is reading your needs, interpreting them correctly, and then acting accordingly to them, doing everything he can to care for you and look out for you, sometimes even at the expense of his own needs. You wouldn’t be able to tell that about him by looking at him, by hearing how his acquaintances talk about him, but there is a soft side to this man, one you feel very protective of.

You nod with enthusiasm. “Sure, why not? If she’s as great as you say, then I don’t see why we wouldn’t be getting along.” You are very curious to meet this woman. He’s hardly given you any information about her, but still, she sparks your interest.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Good.” He also nods, but when he does it, there is an air of determination to it. It feels like you’ve just agreed to some big plan you don’t fully understand, not to having lunch with one of his colleagues. “Listen, there’s this work thing next Friday.” His voice gets lower with each word, so he pauses to clear his throat. “I think you should come along, meet everyone … officially. She’s also gonna be there, it’s a good opportunity …”

Now you can’t help but giggle. He squeezes your hand, and you squeeze back. “You’re very eager to introduce me to her, aren’t you?” you tease, but there is no malice in your words. You’re actually flattered he’s talking about introducing you to his colleagues, about bridging that divide between private and professional.

Your fondness for him gets lost in translation, and your words fall on different ears than they are intended for. “I’ve been telling everyone at work a lot about you –”

You cut him off with a firm kiss that elicits a low growl from his chest. “Javi, I’m already convinced, okay? No need to lie to me,” you whisper against his lips, your hand brushing against his rough cheek. He has to understand that he doesn’t need to pretend with you, that he can be his true self around you.

He lifts your entwined hands from the tabletop and presses a soft kiss against your knuckles. “I’m not lying.” You want to believe him, but there is a glint in his eyes when he looks up from your hand and locks his gaze to yours. It would be wise to be annoyed with him or tease him in turn, but you can’t help yourself. Every time those brown eyes land on you, you feel a pull towards him you cannot quite explain but also cannot ignore. You have to give in.

Still, you roll your eyes in a valiant attempt to keep up a semblance of dignity before pushing yourself off your chair and onto his lap. Your fingers find the hair at the nape of his neck and you grip it and hold onto it as you carefully roll your hips under the pretense of finding a comfortable position. Both his hands immediately land on your sides and squeeze.

“Then let me give you something to tell them about,” you whisper, your lips right next to his ear, and nothing beats the feeling of pride rushing through you as he pushes his hips up, chasing a tiny bit of friction. You’re sure it’s basic instinct, something he can’t quite control, and you love nothing more than making him let go.

***

You thought you would be meeting Javi’s colleagues at a bar, but then you find yourself in front of a nice restaurant. It’s the only place in town that sells good burgers, or at least that’s what the man at your side tells you. You were planning on getting pleasantly drunk, not making conversation while trying to coordinate a knife and fork, but you think you’ll manage as long as you stick to your companion.  

But something about Javi feels off tonight. He nervously fixed his tie in your hallway mirror when he picked you up (usually he doesn’t care about the state of his tie’s knot), he didn’t talk to you much during the drive to the restaurant (usually he points out little details he notices about the city or takes this opportunity to compliment you), and now he keeps fiddling with the cuff of your blouse as he leads you up the stairs to the restaurant’s entrance.

You’re also nervous, mostly because you haven’t met any of the people you’re about to be introduced to, and you don’t know if you’ll have something in common with them or if you’ll spend your evening sitting alone in some dark corner nursing one fancy cocktail after the other. If there’s one thing you’re not good at, it’s going into a situation unprepared, and Javi did nothing to help you build up some expectations about what to expect from tonight. To be fair, you didn’t ask. You didn’t ask about the colleagues you’re about to meet, you didn’t ask where you were going to meet them, and you didn’t ask about the woman he is planning on introducing to you. The reason for your silence? You didn’t want to annoy him, show him just how insecure you are.

But you feel oh so apprehensive about this evening. Your positions are reversed now – suddenly it is you who thinks it might not be such a good idea to mix personal and private. You have no answer as to why you feel like this. It is just a dull sensation in the pit of your stomach that makes your hands feel cold even though it’s a hot, humid evening. It makes you want to turn to the man at your side and ask him to go home. But you won’t. Because despite the dread you’re feeling you’re kind of excited at the prospect of meeting this new colleague he mentioned to you. There is an air of mystery around her that intrigues you because he hasn’t talked about her since that afternoon almost a week ago. And you appreciate the gesture of him biting the bullet and mixing the two sides of the coin that is Javier Peña so you can find a friend.

Once you make it inside, Javi leads you to a group of people who are already standing together in a cluster. The introductions are over way too fast, and you don’t remember a single name. Most of the men you meet look the same to you – they’re wearing suits in different shades of blue and grey and brown, broad, colorful ties, and big smiles. You’re smiling too as you shake their hands, while Javi introduces you to them as his girlfriend, and you know he would because he told you he would, but it still makes you feel warm and tingly, and it cements your right to be here by his side. You’re pretty sure you keep smiling at him like a lovesick teenager, but you don’t care. He’s smiling too, keeping close to you, a hand at the small of your back or on your elbow, his chest always right behind you for you to fall back into should you seek comfort.

Sometimes, you feel him stiffen behind you when a few of his colleagues crack jokes about how you were able to tie down the elusive Javier Peña. He rolls his eyes at their remarks, but you laugh along. You know about his reputation, you know about his past relations with other women, but you don’t mind. Why should you? You also don’t mind his colleagues’ reactions – all you care about is that this feels right at the moment and you wouldn’t change it for anything. But you do understand a bit better why Javi was wary of you meeting his colleagues.

To your relief, there is enough to drink, and soon you find yourself standing at Javi’s side, a bottle of beer in your hand, while you listen to him talk to a man about ten years his senior. You don’t understand much of what they are saying – they’re using so many abbreviations it sounds like code – but Javi stands with his hip cocked to one side so he’s leaning close to you, and you enjoy feeling the ghostly shadow of him by your side. Since he doesn’t like to talk about his job, you enjoy seeing this relatively unknown aspect of him, this other man who’s like a stranger to you, who talks with so much confidence and poise that you cannot help but listen to his every word. And you understand why he seems to be so admired among his colleagues, why they were eager to shake his hand when you arrived, why they seek out his company, why they wave at him from the other side of the room. He’s good at what he does, competent, capable, he knows how to be in charge of a situation without obtruding, and you feel such a strong pull towards this side of him you have to take a big swig from your beer bottle to hide how much this is affecting you. The last thing you need is him teasing you about it.

But before your behavior exposes your desires, he suddenly moves away, and you’re pulled after him, not so much in motion but in attention. He’s spotted someone, a woman, and he’s leaning down to press a light kiss to her right cheek before turning to you.

“This is Katie,” he introduces her, and there’s something in the way he says those three words that makes you pause. You smile at her as you shake her hand, but then your gaze flickers back to Javi who suddenly looks at you like he did in his kitchen six days ago, unsure yet with an edge of something more, something you can’t fully grasp, and then you know.

This is the woman. This is this girl at work that he thinks you’re going to like.

You turn your attention back to her to look at her, to see what he’s seeing. She’s shorter than both you, with long, brown hair that she wears in open waves. You think she has a winning smile and kind eyes, and you immediately want to get to know her better. She compliments your blouse, she makes a joke about something Javi did at work the other day, she’s even holding a bottle of your favorite beer. She seems to be all Javi promised her to be.

Then why is he looking at you so nervously, like a small boy bringing home a teacher’s note?

Javi introduces you as his girlfriend, and Katie doesn’t miss a beat before she says, “Oh, he’s told me a lot about you,” with one of the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen.

“He has?” you ask. You’re not fishing for compliments. You’re genuinely surprised, since you hadn’t expected him to be sharing his private life with his colleagues, much like he doesn’t share his professional one with you. The thought of him talking about you with this woman who is standing in front of you, makes you smile. You decide to tease him about it. “You two spend a lot of time together then?”

Katie’s smile flickers, if only for a short second. “No, it’s not –,” she starts, but Javi interrupts her before she can finish.

“Katie likes fishing,” he says.

It catches you completely off-guard, as does the look on his face. He raises a hand and lets his fingers run over his lips, something he always does when he’s nervous, while he waits for your answer.

“I do,” Katie says with an enthusiastic nod.

You have no idea what’s going on, but you decide to play along. “I go fishing with my dad whenever I’m in the States,” you tell them.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Katie exclaims, and it should, by all means, sound like something she’s only saying to be polite, but it doesn’t. Instead, it sounds like she means it. “Where are you from?”

“North Carolina,” you answer. It’s something you don’t talk about often because it’s not interesting. If you were from California or New York, people would follow up this revelation with questions and stories of their own. But North Carolina? You always feel a bit embarrassed about mentioning it.

But Katie’s reply is something you haven’t heard before. “You don’t sound like you’re from North Carolina.”

Maybe you should be offended – you don’t know what she’s implying with this – but for some reason it just makes you laugh. “Thanks,” you say.

“No, oh my God,” she backtracks immediately, “I didn’t mean to offend you …”

“You didn’t,” you assure her with a dismissive wave of your hand. You glance at Javi then, and he’s following your conversation like a cop watching his partner interrogate a suspect, like he’s afraid of missing just one syllable of what you are saying. His whole body is rigid, his hands are balled into fists at his side, and his face is a mask of pure concentration. “So,” you start again, turning back to Katie, “what has he been telling you about me?”

Several tables have been put together to stand along three walls of one of the biggest rooms in the restaurant. As you sit down and skim the menu, Katie answers your question. Javi speaks of you differently than most of their colleagues speak about their wives or girlfriends. When he talks about you, it doesn’t feel like he would rather do anything else than spend time with you. Quite the opposite, in fact. It makes your face grow hot. You try to distract yourself by ordering your meal, by changing the subject (“So, tell me, Katie, where are you from?”), by watching Javi talk to a middle-aged woman next to him, by watching Javi make her smile.

Katie tells you everything you want to know, answers all your questions in great detail, but always turns the attention back to you. When you ask her about her favorite music, she asks you about yours. When you ask her about her family, she asks you about yours. When you ask her what made her take a job in Colombia, she asks you about how you came to be here. It is a dialogue, not a monologue. She tells you about her brothers back home, about how one is a bank manager while the other went into environmentalism. She tells you she’s always wanted to go to Europe, and she hopes her next DEA assignment will finally get her there. She also tells you about her work for the DEA, about how she spends most of her days in the office, but also about how Javi took her along on a raid recently.

And you realize Javi was right. You do like her. She’s pleasant company, she’s educated but not in that stuck-up way most of Javi’s colleagues are. When you admit that you have no idea who the current Attorney General is, she doesn’t look at you like you just said you enjoy drowning kittens. She just brushes it off and changes the subject. When you tell her about a book you’ve been reading, she takes a small notepad from her bag and jots down the title and author, telling you she’ll check it out. And you truly believe she will.

When you’ve finished most of the food on your plate, she excuses herself to go to the bathroom. You check your watch, surprised that it’s already this late. Your gaze wanders over to where Javi is now talking to two young men who hang on his every word. But he’s glancing at you, a question on his face. You mouth, “What?” but he just shrugs. If he’s still worried you won’t like Katie, he has no reason to. You’re having a very pleasant evening.

When Katie gets back, Javi glances between the two of you, running his finger over his lips again. You just smile at him and, with ease, pick up the conversation with Katie once more. Maybe you should talk to someone else for a change, but Katie doesn’t seem to be bored by your company either, so you have no desire to change anything about your current situation.

Towards the end of the night, you too find yourself in the bathroom. You’re tired, but pleasantly sated, yawning while you wash your hands. You can’t wait to curl up next to Javi tonight and tell him about how much you loved talking to Katie. But you’re also not quite ready for this night to be over yet.

When you step out of the bathroom, Javi is there, waiting for you in the cramped space of the dimly lit hallway. You jump, caught off-guard, but when he shoots you an awkward glance, you can’t help but giggle.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” he asks. He’s curling the fingers of his right hand into a tight fist and releases them again, over and over. It’s another one of his nervous ticks, one he does when he’s trying to relieve tension.

“Sure, what’s up?” you reply, trying to sound casual.

Javi looks nervous, so maybe you’ve fucked up. Maybe you did something or said something, and one of his colleagues saw or heard and complained to Javi about you. You swallow hard, trying to keep the smile on your face.

“Are you having fun?” he asks next.

“Yes, of course.”

“And the food?”

“Am I enjoying the food?” you try to clarify. “Sure.”

“And Katie? You like her?”

This makes you laugh. “Yes, I like her. What’s this about, Javi?”

He doesn’t reply, just shoots you a look, pregnant with meaning.

“What?” you ask, and finally stop smiling. “Do you want me to say I don’t like her?”

“No, no,” he says, too quickly. “I’m just –”

You interrupt him. “I know you’re nervous about me liking her, but you don’t have to be. She’s really nice.” He still doesn’t look convinced. “I’m gonna ask her if she wants to meet up for coffee.”

“There’s something …,” he starts before clearing his throat. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“Do you want to get coffee with me?” you tease him.

“It’s about Katie,” he answers.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath and then breaks eye contact with you, focusing his attention on the wall behind you. “I would like to ask her to join us …,” he says very slowly, making sure you catch every word, “… in bed … tonight.”

Still, you’re not sure you’ve understood him correctly. “What?”

“Just if you want to,” he clarifies.

That doesn’t really answer your question, or any of the other, and there are a lot, but you don’t know where to begin. “Katie?” you say, trying to encompass everything you’re feeling with this single question.

You look past Javi to where she’s sitting, watching the people around her with interest. And then something drops – you’re not sure you’d call it a penny because it feels smaller than that, but you suddenly remember having talked about inviting someone into your bed to see what it would be like. The conversation happened a few weeks ago, after Javi had fucked you for what felt like hours. You had lost count of the number of orgasms you’ve had, but still he didn’t seem to be satisfied. You hadn’t thought much of it then. All you remember is agreeing to give it a try; your fucked-out brain would have agreed to anything. But you had no idea Javi already had someone in mind, you had no idea he’d brought it up thinking of Katie. And suddenly the tone he had used to talk about her in his kitchen a week ago sounds a lot different to you.

Javi’s silent, staring at you with his big, brown eyes, patiently waiting for an answer, while you’re trying to wrap your head around this proposition.

And your mind is racing. You did say yes to the idea of it when he asked you about it, but he just sprung this on you, and it’s so much more than an idea now, it’s a plan, one he’s fully prepared to set in motion. He’s talking about tonight, he’s talking about leaving here and taking her home with you and doing this … tonight. You haven’t been given a chance to prepare for this, you don’t know how you feel about it, how you’re supposed to feel, so you decide to try something.

“Would you like that?” you ask him.

He nods.

“Why her?” you want to know.

“I think she’s nice, pretty, …,” he answers with a non-committal shrug.

“I thought you wanted her to be my friend,” you remind him.

“Of course, I want that,” he’s quick to assure you. “I want you two to get along.”

You reach up to grab his tie then. “Javier, are you sure about this?” you ask with emphasis.

His eyes open wide at this. “Yes.”

You feel a familiar tingling between your legs at hearing his breath hitch. Before you let this go too far, you look over at Katie again and try to imagine her in bed between the two of you, but you can’t. You have no idea how you would even start thinking about this, so you focus on something else, something you’re familiar with, something steady: Javi.

“All right,” you agree. “But there’s some rules I want us to follow.”

“Is that a yes?” he asks and it sounds so incredulous you almost smile.

“Yes, just –”

But he crowds you against the wall, pushes you back against the bricks before you can finish the sentence.

“What –,” you start.

Then he kisses you in a way that’s meant for the privacy of your bedroom, not a public restaurant. You kiss him back tentatively because you don’t want to encourage him too much. He comes even closer, and you feel something brush against your leg.

A smirk spreads across your face. “Why didn’t you say something?” you ask between kisses.

“I am saying something,” he points out.

“Yeah, but sooner.”

He shrugs again, then goes in for another kiss. You hold him back.

“Javi, stop,” you say in a firm voice. “Just listen to me for a minute, okay?”

He nods.

“You have to ask her,” you insist. “I’m not doing it, all right?”

He nods.

“And I don’t …,” you lower your voice, “want you inside of her. Is that clear?”

He nods.

“I’ll be in charge,” you go on. “I’ll decide what we’re doing.”

The “fine” he gives you as an answer is accompanied by a deep rumbling in his chest.

“And she’s not staying over. I don’t care how late it gets, she’s leaving afterwards.” You feel like you need to set these boundaries if you want this to work.

“Can I take her home?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer.

He licks his lips. “Yeah, okay.”

***

You’re in the car. Javi is driving, you’re next to him, watching the lights of the city drift by. Your heartbeat is louder than the sound of the engine, you expect Katie to remark on it any second now, to ask if everything’s okay. But she doesn’t. She’s talking about a book she’s reading, one you’ve also read (and loved) but you can’t bring yourself to hold a conversation. Katie doesn’t pick up on the shift in atmosphere, and if she does, she doesn’t comment on it. But you feel like there’s a deadly snake resting between your feet, one that will bite if you make a single wrong move.

There is a difference between talking about inviting Katie home with you in a room full of people where it’s just a theoretical concept and actually doing it.

Javi agreed to be the one to ask her. But he’s kept quiet so far. All he did was offer Katie a ride home, which she accepted with a big smile on her face. You glance over at Javi as he’s driving, his face alternating between being aflame in golden lighting and hidden in complete darkness. You can see the tension in his facial expression by the way he furrows his brow, but when he glances over at you there is something in his gaze – reassurance, yes, but also an edge of something you can’t quite put your finger on. You tell yourself his eyes are only this dark because your environment is. And suddenly you don’t feel like you’re in danger anymore; suddenly you want to exploit this situation, exploit the power it gives you over him.

You turn around to look at Katie, who’s sitting in the seat behind Javi. She just ended a long explanation about a character’s motivation by saying, “… you know,” and you nod to signal you’ve been listening, even though you haven’t.

If Javi doesn’t want to bring it up, you have to. Because the more you think about it, the more you want to do this, and you don’t want to rely on a man who can’t make the first move.

“Katie, I was wondering …,” you start, and immediately Javi’s right hand leaves the wheel, and his fingers dig into your thigh. You inhale sharply at the sensation but continue, “… are you seeing anyone?” Javi loosens his hold on you but doesn’t let go completely.

Katie shakes her head, then bites her lip bottom lip. “You know,” she says then lowers her voice, “I actually had my eyes on …,” she nods at Javi, “but please don’t think –”

You interrupt her. “No, please, Katie, it’s fine.” You smile at the man next to you, who shakes his head ever so slightly. “I completely understand.”

“Yeah,” Katie sighs and shakes her head so her hair tumbles down over one shoulder. “There are actually a few broken hearts at the office.”

That makes you laugh, if only because Javi looks utterly miserable. “I think he’s secretly enjoying that,” you whisper in a conspiratorial tone of voice.

Javi makes a sound of warning, one that tells you to shut up.

“Javi, I’m kidding,” you say with a light laugh. It’s only half the truth. You know him. You know he enjoys the attention.

Katie, too, starts to apologize, but you interrupt her again.

“Please, you have nothing to apologize for, he can take it.” You wonder if you should press your luck, if you should rile him up a bit more, and you decide it’s the right thing to do. “Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy the attention, Javi. Broken hearts … women pining for you …”

Javi makes another sound of warning. “It’s not like that,” he says through gritted teeth.

“What’s it like then?” you challenge.

Katie interrupts your stand-off before Javi can reply. “You guys, this is me, actually,” she says, pointing at the dark shape of an apartment building at the end of the block.

You turn around to face her again. “Katie, would you like to come up for a cup of coffee? Javi lives just down the street.”

“You sure?” Katie looks at Javi when she asks.

The knuckles on Javi’s hands are white from clutching the steering wheel.

“Of course,” you say, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, all right,” Katie agrees.

You’re all quiet until you reach Javi’s apartment building. He gets out to open the garage door, then drives the car inside. You can’t help but notice that he still hasn’t asked, and you feel yourself getting nervous and antsy. If he doesn’t do it soon, you’ll definitely be the one to bring it up.

As soon as the car is parked, Katie gets out and shuts the door behind her with a dull bang.

Javi turns in his seat so he’s facing you. “What was that?” he asks.

“Ask her,” you tell him. “Now. Or I’m gonna do it.”

“What?” he snaps.

“I was trying to give you an opening,” you explain, as calmly as possible. Why does this have to be so complicated? “Like a scene partner, you know? Set up everything, so you can ask her.”

“Well, you weren’t doing a good job.”

“Gee, thanks,” you say, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I’m gonna do it,” Javi tells you, his voice much softer now, “just give me time.”

“How much longer do you need?” you want to know. “She almost had us drop her off at her flat.”

“I’m doing it,” Javi sighs, “just … go away.”

All the tension in you leaves your body in one big wave and you smile softly at him. “Javi, are you nervous?”

He shoots you a stern look.

You raise your hands defensively. “All right, I’m going.”

You both get out of the car, and while you walk towards the exit to the stairwell, your steps echoing through the underground parking lot, you hear Javi say, “Katie, do you have a minute?”

You stop once you reach the door, lingering in the shadows, your eyes on Javi and Katie. You watch them talk, but you cannot hear what they’re saying; they’re too far away and standing too closely together for the sound to carry all the way to you. All you can tell is that he’s explaining something to her, and when he grows quiet, he cocks his hip, arms akimbo. Then he nods at you.

You have to admit you’re more nervous than you want Javi to know. So much could go wrong. What if she starts shouting at you? What if she storms off? She’s still Javi’s colleague, he would still have to work with her. What were you thinking? Why did you agree to this? Why didn’t you ask a complete stranger? It would certainly have made things a lot less awkward.

Katie is also looking at you, just for a moment, but it’s enough time for her to take you in, from head to toe, and then she looks back at Javi. She says something, something you can’t hear, and he nods. Then she nods, too.

***

You’re on Javi’s couch, Katie is sitting next to you, another bottle of beer in her hand, while Javi has made himself comfortable in an old leather armchair. You’ve been sipping on a glass of water for the past 15 minutes while you’ve been listening to them talk about work. Neither of you has mentioned anything about the proposition, and you have no idea how to bring it up again. Yes, you want to be in charge, but you had hoped Javi would do more than just ask. You had hoped he would initiate something … anything.

But instead, they’re both relaxed and at ease, talking about some new regulations that have been introduced recently, while you try to find a way into the conversation, while you try to find something more elegant than, “Well, anyway, do you guys wanna take this to the bedroom?”

Luckily, there’s only so much time you can spend discussing regulations on car safety, and soon a tense silence settles over the room, settles between you, waiting to be cut, to be torn apart, and you know that this is your chance.

“So,” you start, and immediately both Javi and Katie turn their heads to look at you. You take a sip from your water before continuing. “Katie, there’s some things –”

She interrupts you immediately. “I know, Javi told me. I’m fine with it.”

You take a deep breath. “Yes, I just want us to go over it one more time, to make sure we’re all on the same page.”

God, why do you sound so awkward? This isn’t supposed to be a business negotiation and yet it feels like one. You don’t want to alienate Katie by insisting on those rules, but you need something to hold on to once you get started.

“I’m gonna be in charge,” you say quickly. “I hope Javi mentioned that.”

“He did,” Katie confirms with a nod.

“And I want you to leave once this is over.” It sounds mean, but it’s too late to phrase it nicer now.

“Yeah, sure,” Katie says, her expression neutral. “No problem.”

“I’m open to trying anything,” you go on. “But the minute someone feels uncomfortable with something, we stop. All right?” You look at both of them for confirmation. They both nod. “I need a verbal confirmation, please.”

“Yes,” Javi says, “we stop.”

“Of course,” Katie agrees.

“And there’s one more thing,” you say, trying to work up the courage to address it. You know it’s silly to be nervous about it, especially since you all just agreed to be open with one another, and since Javi already knows about it, but you still feel apprehension at the thought of bringing it up.

“Yeah, I know,” Katie says before you can continue. “No penetration.”

She says it so matter-of-factly, in the same tone of voice she used to talk about the new regulations that suddenly you feel like there won’t be any problems at all.

“I’m fine with fingers,” you say quickly, “just not …”

“Yes, and I’m completely fine with that,” Katie assures you.

You have no idea how she does it, how she can sit there and talk about this without flinching. Maybe you’re the problem; maybe you need to relax more. You enjoyed your evening talking to Katie, you enjoyed getting to know here, so there is nothing to indicate you’re not going to enjoy this. Katie is certainly set on enjoying herself, judging by the way her eyes roam over Javi, practically undressing him with her gaze.

And suddenly, you don’t feel shy at all. You feel brave and bold, and entirely not yourself as you lean closer to Katie and, before you can change your mind, capture her bottom lip between your lips. Katie makes a surprised sound, but then her hand is at the nape of your neck as she pulls you close. You can taste the beer lingering on her lips as you pry them open with your tongue, and you feel her gasp softly against your skin, and you just know that this won’t be a problem at all. You feel bolder with each passing second, not breaking the kiss when you rest your hand against her thigh, and she’s not breaking the kiss when you move it higher up to cup one of her breasts. All that catches your attention is a sharp intake of breath somewhere behind you. Katie hears it, too, and it makes her break the kiss.

“So, where’s the bedroom?” she asks, putting down her beer.

***

Javi’s bedroom is dark, except for the occasional flicker of light from a passing car that illuminates the walls and the bed for a few short moments. Neither of you switches on the light as you enter. It is a quiet procession, slightly awkward, as if you all don’t quite know how to approach this. You still feel apprehensive, but this feeling is slowly being replaced by giddy excitement, by adrenaline and arousal mixing together to form a dangerous, explosive cocktail you long to control but you also want to see ignited. You try to breathe in deeply, slowly, but your throat feels tight as your heart beats loudly against your ribcage.

You want this, you have to remind yourself, and it’s not the act itself you’re thinking about, but what you discussed just a few minutes ago. You wanted to be in charge, you tell yourself as both Javi and Katie look at you, their faces hidden behind thick shadows.

Katie looks as nervous as you feel. You’re all new to this, but she’s not as used to hiding her emotions behind a solid mask as Javi is. She glances at you, then back at him, waiting for you to say something. Or for him to do something. You were so brave and determined in the other room, as if you knew exactly what you were doing. You were another person. But now this feels solid and real, not something you just talk about with Javi to see the heat in his gaze. They actually expect you to do something, to guide them, and you’re not sure you can do it.

Javi, ever observant, ever determined to look out for you, senses your insecurity. Of course he does, how could he not? He is focused on you, it feels like you’re the only person here who matters to him, like this is about you and no one else. He takes a step forward until he’s a hand's width away from you, then pulls you close into a deep kiss, one that leaves you breathless within seconds. His tongue is everywhere, and his teeth nip and bite at your lip and neck until all you can do is cling to the collar of his shirt to help you ground yourself. He pushes you up against the nearest wall until you’re trapped between two solid entities. You’ve never felt safer and more sheltered. Your initial insecurity blows off as you lose yourself in the attention he’s paying you. His hands are eager to explore, roaming across your chest, pulling open your blouse with so much force you hear one of the buttons hitting the floor somewhere. You don’t mind; all you want is for him to keep going.

He does, forcing you to spread your legs so he can push one of his strong thighs between them, and you obey willingly, while you press sloppy, open-mouthed kisses against the hot skin of his neck, against the bulging vein that protrudes when you let your fingers brush against his chest and stomach, trailing lower and lower, eager to reach their goal. Before they can, he pushes up his thigh and you grind down onto it, both of you moaning from the strain and the tension of it. You can feel your slick coating your underwear, you’re sure he can feel the heat through the fabric of both your trousers, and it only spurs him on – he takes a hold of your hips and urges you to keep moving. You do, your eyes fluttering shut, as your entire world is reduced to that sweet friction as you chase your pleasure, completely lost in the moment.

But then his mouth is right next to your ear and he whispers something, his voice raspy and raw, and your whole body trembles.

“Look at you,” he says, and you feel the words reverberating in his chest. “You want this, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you breathe out in a whispered pant. “God, yes.”

He pushes up his thigh again and you let out a moan that fills the entire room.

His lips are still right next to your ear, you can feel his breath tickle your sensitive skin. “Can I kiss her?” he asks. “Will you let me?”

You can’t tell if it’s that he’s so close to you, so overwhelmingly close and solid and present, or if it’s the pleading edge to his voice when he asks you, but something makes you vibrate with desire and all you can do is nod quickly, your head connecting to the wall with a dull thud. You don’t even feel it.

He pulls you in for another kiss, taking his time with you, and you taste him, inhale his scent, drink him down, before you pull back with a soft chuckle. “Go,” you whisper, “she might get bored.”

“Yes,” he agrees, and presses another soft kiss to your lips. “I want you to take off your clothes, all right?” His thumb brushes over your cheek when he quickly cups your face. “Get comfortable …,” he hesitates, “… and if you want us to stop …”

“No!” you interrupt him. “No, please.”

The smirk spreading across his face is too cocksure for your taste, and while he’s turning away from you, you’re already trying to come up with a plan to get back at him.

Your skin still burns, it feels like your whole body, every cell, is on fire, your lungs struggle to draw in air to keep you alive. You’re sure you look like a mess, your fingers tingle and your legs shake, and you just can’t explain it, why he suddenly has this effect on you. You’re attracted to him, more than you’ve ever been to another man before, and he makes you feel so good whenever he touches you and fucks you, but this is new.

Your eyes never leave his back as he steps over to where Katie is standing completely still, as he pulls her close by her wrist, cups her cheek, his fingers tangling in her long hair, and then his lips are on hers, and she melts against him. You listen to her soft moans and his rough pants as they explore each other, and suddenly your body burns up with longing again, longing to be touched and kissed, longing to pull out those same sounds from someone else. You watch as he undresses her with adept hands, as he roughly cups one of her breasts and she mewls, satisfaction flashing across his face, as he shoves one hand between her legs, then turns to you with a satisfied grin.

He doesn’t have to say it. You know.

You hurry to get out of your clothes while Javi does the same. Katie is leaning against the wall, her body trembling, and you know how she feels, you know about the burning between her legs, about the heartbeat pounding in her ears. You’re all too familiar with the effects of his touch, his kisses, his filthy words whispered against sweat-slicked skin. But she’s been hit by it without a chance to prepare herself. When another car drives past, you get a glimpse of her flushed skin and the glimmer in her unfocused eyes, and yours flutter shut for a second in response as your hands curl into fists.

If this is what Javi gets to see when he touches you it’s not surprising he does it so often.

He takes your hand and leads you to the bed, helps you settle down comfortably. Katie follows, her gaze fixed on Javi’s hard cock, eyes wide.

“No,” he says, as if he can read her mind. “She’s first.”

It’s against your deal, against the rules you set for this to work. He shouldn’t be in charge, you should be, you should tell them what comes next, how to approach this. But when one of his hands grips your thigh and pulls so your legs spread and you hear a hissed breath as he looks at the evidence of your arousal slick and glistening between your legs, you lose all will to take charge. Instead, you let your head fall back and wait, wait for him.

And then there’s something else, too; Katie, on your other side, much smaller, less imposing, but there, smelling sweet and clean where Javi’s scent is heavy and choking. She settles down comfortably next to you, her body pressed against yours, and before you can get used to the feeling of her own arousal against your leg, she softly moves your head, so you look at her, and then she’s kissing you hungrily. Suddenly, her sweet scent is all you breathe and taste, her soft lips against your own ignite something deep within you, something you already felt back in the living room but which you pushed down for the time being because it wasn’t the right place. Now it is, and you pull back and push one of your legs between hers, watching how her jaw tightens, how her eyes open wide, and then she starts rolling her hips, coating your skin with her slick. You tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of her neck and force her to look down, to watch herself, and when she does, you’re suddenly filled with two of Javi’s fingers, stretching you open.

A hoarse moan escapes your throat as he pulls them out again but immediately replaces them with three. You’re used to it, used to his thick, strong fingers stretching you, but you’re so wound up and on edge that it almost feels overwhelming. There are tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, but then you feel Katie’s lips against your neck, and it brings you back down.  

Somewhere above you, Javi huffs. “You’re so wet,” he says, his voice unbelievably deep and rough and it makes a shudder run through you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. You want to come up with a witty retort, but you can’t, not when you hear what he says next. “Do you want to feel her, Katie?”

“Can I?” Katie whispers against your neck, but before the question has left her mouth in its entirety, you’re already replying.

“Yes, fuck,” you moan, trying to push up your hips to take Javi’s fingers in deeper.

He grips you with his free hand and pushes you back into the mattress. And then you feel the much softer touch of Katie’s fingers against your stomach, stroking you soothingly. She even whispers a soft, “Shh,” against the shell of your ear, and you squirm in reply, but then she finds your clit and softly circles it, once, twice, and you go limp at the same time as she bites down on your neck to muffle a breathless, “Fuck.”

You share that sentiment. Her fingers feel nothing like Javi’s. They’re softer both in touch and pressure but combined with his three still buried deep inside of you, still fucking into you with wet, obscene noises, you feel like you’ve found Heaven on Earth. You’re close, every muscle in your body tenses, and you close your eyes with a deep groan.

Suddenly, Javi’s hand closes around your jaw and he pulls. “Look at me,” he demands. “I want to see you.”

Reluctantly, you open your eyes, but then you see it. Javi is looking at you like he usually does, with amazement and want, but there is also a different edge to it, something between unrestrained lust and uninhibited pride, and something like adoration too, and he’s never looked at you like that before. It’s enough to push you over the edge and you come with a hoarse cry, tightening around his fingers, pushing him even deeper into you, and this time Katie has to hold you in place with a firm grip as he continues to fuck you with three wet fingers, fuck you through your orgasm, the muscles on his arm taut with the effort.  

Only when you hiss and try to move away does he stop. He leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple as you shudder and try to catch your breath. Katie’s hand moves up to stroke across your stomach in lazy circles, while she presses small kisses along the underside of your jaw. You swallow hard and close your eyes – you have never, never, felt like this after an orgasm; you feel so open and vulnerable with both of them doting on you like this, but you also feel safe and secure. The only thing that’s missing is a feeling of deep satisfaction, and you might have an idea how to achieve that.

“You all right?”

It takes you a moment to realize Javi has addressed you, but once this information registers with you, you nod slowly. “Just give me a second,” you answer, your voice raw. You clear your throat and the movement stings.

Did you scream? You probably did but you don’t remember.

Javi relaxes, sits up, and carefully pulls out his fingers. You hadn’t even realized they were still inside of you, and you hiss at the sudden feeling of emptiness. He only smirks at you, a lopsided grin that ignites another spark of desire deep in your belly.

“Lie down,” you tell him, your voice still hoarse and dry.

He looks at you, a question on his face.

“Come on,” you urge him, pushing yourself up on your elbows so you’re closer to him. “Lie down on your back.”

He does as he’s told, lying down on your right side next to Katie who’s still cuddled up to you, still trying to kiss your neck, your shoulders, anywhere she can reach. But your eyes are on Javi, and on the unreadable expression on his face. There is definitely some curiosity there, some inquisitiveness, and you haven’t forgotten – you haven’t forgotten about wanting to get back at him.

With a finger under Katie’s chin, you tilt her head up to kiss her, a slow kiss that quickly turns into something more. She grips your arm and holds on as you take your time with her, exploring her mouth, exploring all the ways you can make her sigh and whimper. By the time you pull away, she’s a quivering mess and you can’t blame her, especially not once you realize why her moans have grown louder and more desperate during the last few minutes.

Javi’s hand is between her thighs, and you see him move two fingers in and out of her at a leisurely pace. This sight – his thick fingers, the same ones that were buried so deep inside of you only minutes ago, now coated in her slick – makes you bite back a moan that’s trying to force its way out of your chest. You lock eyes with Javi as he pushes a third finger into her and she drops her head onto your shoulder with a strangled sigh; there’s a challenge in his gaze, one you’re ready to accept.

You run your fingers through Katie’s hair and watch Javi continue what he’s doing, listen to the obscenely wet sounds his movements make, and whisper soothing words to the woman by your side, whisper to her how good she is for you, how well she’s taking it, how pretty she looks on display for you like that. You know Javi can hear you, you see his cock twitch when you ask, “Would you like him to taste you?” and her breathlessly replying, “Yes.”

Javi moves to get up, but you quickly put a stop to this by shaking your head. “No,” you say, “we’re doing this my way.”

Yes, there’s definitely curiosity in his gaze, but you also don’t think his eyes have ever been this dark before.

You softly kiss Katie again, then say, “Hey,” in the quietest voice you can muster, giving the circumstances. “Look at me.”

Katie opens her eyes and gazes at you, her brow knit tightly, her eyes glazed over with lust. The sight makes you bite your lip, and her gaze immediately flickers down to where your teeth dig into the soft flesh.

“Are you all right?” you ask her.

She nods slowly.

“If there’s something you don’t feel comfortable with, just tell me.”

She swallows and nods again. You have a feeling she wants to say something but doesn’t trust her voice.

You nod too. “Get up,” you say, giving the softness in your voice an edge to show her this isn’t up for debate.

Javi slowly pulls his fingers out of her and you see her thighs quiver at the loss. You help her into a kneeling position.

“He’s gonna taste you now, all right?” you ask, making sure everyone is on board with what’s going to happen next. “I’m going to take care of him, so I don’t want you to worry about that. But you’re going to look at me the whole time.”

Her eyes widen as she realizes what you mean, and you hear Javi inhale sharply behind her. You let them find a position that is comfortable for them while you move to settle between Javi’s legs. His cock is an angry, red color and you cannot wait to feel the weight of it in your hand, to give him some of the relief he’s craving. He’s been so good for you – for the both of you –, he deserves to be taken care of. You let your eyes wander to the tip, to the drop of pre-cum that is inviting you to lean down and taste him, when you hear a deep groan vibrate through his entire body, so depraved and unrestrained it makes you look up.

Katie’s thighs are planted to the left and right of Javi’s head, his hands are digging into her soft flesh to spread them even further. Her head is thrown back in pure bliss as he licks up into her, holding her down so he can reach as much of her as possible. You’re completely mesmerized by the sight in front of you, by Javi’s face buried between another woman’s legs, by her arousal coating his chin, and it makes your own cunt clench with need. For a moment, just one brief moment, you consider abandoning your plan, taking him inside of you until you’re joined, connected, until nothing could pull you apart, and then fucking him until he spills inside you, moaning your name into Katie’s cunt.

But you don’t.

You take a deep breath, then wrap your hand around the base of Javi’s cock.

His moan of strained relief sends a jolt of pleasure through you.

You run your fingers up his length and swipe your thumb across the tip, collecting some of the pre-cum. As a response, he digs his nails deeper into Katie’s thighs and she cries out, a sound somewhere between pain and pleasure.

“He likes it rough, you know,” you say, circling the tip of his cock with your thumb lightly, casually, as if you were doodling a circle while talking to someone on the phone.

Katie’s eyes snap open and she looks at you, but you’re not sure she sees you. You don’t blame her. You’re well aware of what Javi can do with his tongue. You know what it feels like when he moans against your wet cunt, your swollen clit. In fact, you’re surprised Katie hasn’t come all over his face yet.

“Grab his neck,” you say, and cannot help but laugh lewdly when she immediately complies, her slender fingers closing around his strong, muscular throat. You watch as a vein at the base of his neck bulges, straining with effort, while he never once falters, while he continues to lick through Katie’s wet folds like she’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. “Go on then,” you say, your hand closing around the base of his cock again and squeezing, “don’t be shy – fuck his face.”

The way Katie follows your orders immediately, without hesitation, without the flicker of a doubt on her face, makes pleasure shoot through your veins. You swallow hard at the sight of her rolling her hips almost leisurely, her fingers still wrapped around his throat for purchase, while he drinks her down without complaint, a dark flush creeping up his chest and neck.

You’ve teased him enough.

You pump his cock once, twice, before settling yourself so you can wrap an arm around his leg, running your fingers through his coarse, dark hair, and then you finally allow yourself to taste him. You suck the tip of him into your mouth, letting his taste burst on your tongue, appreciating it like you would appreciate expensive wine. You take him in deeper, his heaviness familiar against your tongue, his taste sharp and strong, and he rewards you with a deep, dark growl, with low moans, with clipped sighs. One of his hands find its way to the nape of your neck to push you down further, and you let him. He’s been patient enough – he’s allowed to take for a while.

But there’s something else, too, another noise, one you usually don’t hear when you do this: the wet sound of his tongue against Katie’s center, her quiet gasps mixed with his strained huffs. You can feel yourself get impossibly wet at hearing them, at hearing this ambient noise all around you, and you let out a moan of your own before hollowing your cheeks to take even more of him in your mouth until his tip brushes against the back of your throat and you feel tears sting at the corner of your eyes.

Javi lets out a low growl and pushes his hips up. You hold him down, try to restrain him, but his muscles tense, his breathing gets ragged and then ….

You hear it, a quiet gasp, and look up. Katie’s eyes are on you, her face is flushed, she looks like she’s burning up, and it takes you a moment to realize what is happening until you notice she’s stilled completely, and her hands have left Javi’s neck and are braced against his broad chest, her nails digging into his flesh, leaving angry marks. She’s coming, she’s coming all over his face, while he continues to lick her with the most obscenely wet sounds you’ve ever heard. She doesn’t even have time to call out or shout his name because she’s so overwhelmed, taken completely by surprise, and you are, too. All you can do is sit up and watch her, brushing the loose strands of hair from her face, as she comes completely undone without a single sound.

You don’t give her much time to catch her breath, neither of you do. With a firm grip, Javi pushes her off him and you immediately set the next step of your plan in motion.

“Do you want to return the favor?” you ask her.

Her eyes grow wide, and it feels like she’s unable to speak, but she nods eagerly. You can see her heartbeat, a quick pulsing in her neck, tempting you, and you lean forward to kiss it.

“Go on then,” you whisper against her skin.

You swap places; she settles herself between Javi’s legs and you lie down next to him. He looks like a mess. His chest is rising and falling rapidly like he’s just finished running a marathon. There are marks all over the skin, and his cheeks are flushed. His eyes are glazed over, and his curls are damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead. You run your fingers through them, trying to smooth them back. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, drawing your eyes lower to his mustache that’s impossibly darker.

The urge to kiss him becomes unbearable.

When you do, he doesn’t taste like himself. There is another taste mixed in there, one that is foreign to you, and you bite down on his lip possessively when you taste it. He lets out a low growl and bucks his hips, drawing your attention downwards.

Katie looks up at the both of you, tears in her eyes. She’s doing her best, but you know how it is, you know that Javi’s size can be overwhelming at first. You decide to help her, to make this as enjoyable as possible for both of them.

“He likes a firm hold at the base,” you say.

Katie’s fingers close around his cock in a firm grip and Javi hisses, his breath fanning across your neck.

“Good girl,” you praise. You don’t know where this is coming from, but Katie’s eyes flutter shut and Javi’s chest rumbles with a desperate purr and you know you’ve said the right thing. “Use your tongue more,” you continue, “and try to get out of your head … he likes it sloppy.”

Katie’s tongue darts out to lick along the underside of Javi’s cock, from base to tip, before she takes him in her mouth again, doing her best to hold him steady. She doesn’t break eye contact with you and it’s only when you nod encouragingly that she lets him fall from her mouth with a wet plop, a trail of spit connecting her to his tip.

“Yeah, that’s better,” you tell her. “Keep that up and he won’t last long.”

You turn your attention back to Javi who looks at you with eyes impossibly dark. If there was a source of light in the room, you’re sure you’d be able to see your reflection in them. You grip a tuft of hair at the top of his head and hold him in place.

“Is this what you wanted?” you ask him, whispering the words into his ear, against his hot, flushed, sweat-slicked skin.

He nods, nothing more.

“I want to hear you say it,” you urge him on.

When he answers you with words, you hear why he was trying to communicate non-verbally. The “yes” he gives you is a hoarse, deep, desperate sound. You had no idea his voice could sound like this, could sound so wrecked, so taut, so pleading. You kiss him, and he kisses you back with such urgency, like a drowning man coming up for air.

You’re drunk, drunk on this power you have over him, drunk on being in charge of his pleasure while not even touching him, and you feel the desire to exploit this, to push him as far as he’ll let you without breaking him. You kiss him back, holding him in place with the fingers in his hair, while you listen to Katie moan around his cock. He moans, too, and his hips twitch, and you know he’s close, one fist tangled in the bedsheets, the other holding on to your arm.

“Katie, stop,” you say.

She does immediately, thinking there’s something wrong. Javi groans in frustration, his hips jerking upwards to chase that bit of friction from Katie’s hand still wrapped around him.

“Change of plans,” you tell them.

“No, please.”

You don’t recognize Javi’s voice. If you wouldn’t have seen his mouth move, you wouldn’t have known it was him who had just spoken.

“Please, querida.” He’s trying to convince you, he really is, knowing you usually can’t resist him when he calls you that, but you can, you have to this time.

“There’s something I want to try,” you tell him, letting your fingers run down his chest. “You said I could decide what we’re doing.”

“Yes, you can, but please …”

“If you do as I say …,” you say slowly, swallowing hard, “you can fuck me as hard as you want.”

He thinks this is hard for him, but it’s nothing compared to how hard this is for you. You’re sure you could come from hearing him say two more words in that voice of his. Luckily, he shuts his mouth and nods, determination on his face.

You sit up. “Katie, come here.” You beckon her close with a wave of your hand. “Lie down next to him.” Katie does as she’s told, glancing at Javi whose eyes are fixed on you. “Make sure his hands stay where you can see them. He’s not allowed to touch himself.”

“Yes,” Katie says, her voice hoarse.

You allow yourself to give her one kiss, just one, before you frame her chin with your thumb and index finger and turn her face so she’s looking at Javi. Where Javi’s skin is burning, Katie’s is cool to the touch when you let your hands run down her sides and over the taut plane of her stomach. She sucks in a quiet breath as you brush your fingers over her thighs, over the mound of hair between them, and then you touch her.

Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, at feeling her soft, warm, wet center. You run your fingers through her drenched folds, you listen to her gasps and whimpers, you hear Javi’s voice, too, but you can’t understand what he’s saying. And then, with a shallow breath, you push one finger into Katie. You feel her clench around you, you hear her whisper your name in surprise, but you’re too mesmerized by the sight of your digit vanishing between her folds to look at her.

You get it. You get it now. You know, you understand why Javi loves doing this to you.

When you add a second finger and pick up the pace, Katie moans loudly, but still not loud enough to drown out Javi’s aroused grunt. You finally lift your head to look at them both, at Javi, whose mouth hangs open, who has a look on his face like he’s trying to solve an unsolvable puzzle, and at Katie, who’s doing her best to keep her gaze on Javi, but whose eyelids flutter dangerously.

You shift positions and then your face is level with Katie’s weeping cunt. You pull out your fingers, grab her thighs in a tight grip, and give her one experimental lick, just a taste, just a sample. It’s so different from what Javi tastes like, it’s less heavy, less prominent. You try it again. And again.

Katie is a whimpering mess by now; one of her hands is resting against the top of your head; what the other one is doing, you don’t know. All you can focus on is the feeling of her against your tongue as you suck on her clit. That makes her scream, and you do it again, until her voice is hoarse.

Then you hear Javi. “You like that?” he asks, and you think he’s talking to you, but when you lift your eyes, you see he has Katie’s face in a tight grip, forcing her to look at you.

Katie nods.

“Tell her,” Javi demands, tightening his grip.

“Fuck,” Katie moans, and for you, this would have been enough, but not for Javi.

“You can do better than that,” he coos.

“It – you feel so good,” Katie tries. “God, I … more, please.”

“What do you need?” Javi asks. “Tell her.”

“Can I have … I just need … a finger,” Katie answers, her face and chest impossibly red, her expression open and vulnerable, her eyes glazed over. “I just want something to come on.”

You pull away for a second, a smirk on your face. “You can have two,” you say, before shoving two fingers inside her. You feel her tense around you, pulling you in deeper, and when you put your tongue back on her clit, she lets out the filthiest, most desperate moan you’ve heard her make all evening.

She didn’t moan like that when Javi was between her legs.

“Do you want to come?” you hear Javi ask her, and a strangled sound is the reply. “That good enough for you?” he asks you.

“No,” you say between licks.

“You heard her,” Javi goes on. “Try again.”

“Please …,” Katie whimpers. “I need to …”

You push your fingers impossibly deeper into her and she tightens around them with a hoarse scream, over and over, while you suck her clit into your mouth again with a filthy sound. She tries to pull away then, but you hold her in place with your free hand.

“No,” you say, your voice breathy. “Another one.”

Javi lets go of Katie’s face and shifts on the bed. Your eyes flicker to him, but he’s keeping his promise so far.

“Think you can do it?” he asks Katie.

“I don’t know,” she answers.

“You can,” you tell her. “Just keep an eye on him.”

You’re on thin ice, you know that. There’s only so far Javi will allow you to push him. But you feel drunk on the power you hold not only over him, but also over Katie. Her legs tremble when you drag your tongue through her wet folds again, her muscles twitch, and her hips push upwards. You hold her down, then repeat the movement with your tongue before pushing the tip of it into her. Katie’s head falls back with another loud moan, and this time you let her roll her hips against your mouth before pulling away.

The desperate whimper she makes cloaks your mind in a hazy, filthy mist of lust.

“Tell me, Katie,” you start, lazily pushing the tip of your finger into her, “who’s better? Me or him?”

You don’t look at her as you say it, you look at Javi. He holds your gaze, his expression unreadable, but there is something in his eyes, something that reminds you of a gathering storm.

“You,” Katie breathes out. “You, fuck!”

And then the storm breaks loose in Javi’s eyes. You see the lightning, hear the thunder, you feel the electricity prick at the back of your neck. You shouldn’t have asked Katie this question, you shouldn’t have provoked him like this, but here you are. There no taking it back now.

Even as you turn your attention back to Katie, even as you taste her cunt once more, you know he’s watching you. You feel his heated gaze, you feel something simmer just beneath the surface. As long has Katie moans and writhes beneath you, you’re safe. Javi won’t make his move. But as soon as Katie comes, you will have to pay.

And she does, eventually. She pushes her hips up, pressing your face against her with a firm grip at the back of your head, and you feel her come all over your tongue and chin with quiet shouts of pleasure.

Before you have time to collect yourself, before you have time to sit up or catch your breath, Javi is behind you. You don’t even see him move, you only realize he’s changed position when you feel the heat of his body against your back, when you feel his fingers on your sides, when you feel him slam into you. The sheer force of it pushes you up the bed until you’re right above Katie’s dazed face. You hold on for dear life, your fingers gripping the bedsheets, as Javi fucks you with so much force you can feel him everywhere. You don’t even have enough air left in your lungs to cry out, all you can hear is his skin against yours and his low grunts as he’s finally taking what you’ve denied him for so long. There is nothing you can do but let him.

You know you won’t last long, neither of you will. But when you feel Katie’s fingers against your clit, when you look into her eyes and see her bite her lip in concentration, it’s too much. The contrast between Javi fucking you at a punishing pace and Katie’s soft touch, almost like a caress, loosens something within you before your entire body tenses up. Something is happening to you that you cannot quite explain. You feel yourself grow unbelievably wet, so wet Javi slips out of you completely for a second but pulls you back onto him with a rough tug, and then you hear Katie moan out a low, “Shit”. You bury your face in the crook of her neck, feeling wrung out yet taut at the same time. It’s so overwhelming you feel like you’re about to explode, like you cannot keep going, but they don’t stop. Javi has an arm slung around your stomach as he holds you in place, Katie has your hip in a firm grip while she circles your clit with a movement that’s enough to keep you on edge but not push you over it. Javi has grown completely quiet, and you know exactly why; you know what his face looks like even though you can’t see him, you know he’s about to come from the way his muscles twitch against your back. But you don’t know if you can give him what he wants, if you can come on his cock buried deep inside you, his cock that sends jolt after jolt of rough pleasure through you. You’re too overwhelmed, you won’t be able to let go.

But then, your face still buried in Katie’s neck, you hear her say, “Come for us,” and that’s all it takes. You do, your muscles closing around Javi’s cock like a vise, while you bite down on the soft skin of Katie’s shoulder, trying to muffle the scream that tears itself from an undiscovered place within you, so well hidden, so deeply buried you had no idea it existed. And while you feel wave over wave of pleasure rush through you, you also feel Javi flood you in wave over wave of hot release, his body completely still, holding you in place until he’s done.

He pulls out of you with a wet sound, and you immediately sink down next to Katie, spent and exhausted and more tired than you’ve ever felt in your life. Katie kisses your cheek, your temple, your lips, anywhere she can reach, while Javi gets a wet cloth from the bathroom to clean you up. The second to last thing you remember is Javi joining you on the bed again, his strong arms wrapping around you, whispering soothing words.

The last thing you remember is taking Katie’s hand into yours and saying, “Stay.”

***

It’s early morning, the street outside Javi’s flat is still quiet, and you yawn as you lean against his arm, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for breakfast?” you ask Katie as you watch her put on her shoes.

“Thank you, but I have a lot of work to catch up on,” she rejects your offer again with a smile. “Another time maybe?”

“Do you want to grab coffee sometime?” you ask her.

“Sure!” she exclaims excitedly. “Anytime.”

“I’ll give you a call, okay?”

She nods, then pulls you away from Javi and into a tight hug. “It was lovely meeting you,” she says, her arms still slung around you. “I had a lot of fun.”

“Me too,” you say, before pulling away.

Katie turns her attention to Javi. “Thank you,” she says. For what exactly, she doesn’t reveal.

Javi, his hair still messy from sleep, wearing nothing but an old pair of boxers, looking exhausted and tired, still manages to smile at her. He leans down and presses a kiss against her cheek. She presses a kiss against his lips.

“See you,” she says, meaning both of you. 

taglist (mostly people who showed interest in this fic): @acdeaky | @ah-soka | @chasingdreamer | @codenamewife | @darksber | @deliriouslybewitching | @dindja | @doin-stuff | @filthybookworm | @for-my-satisfaction | @frannyzooey​ | @itssmashedavo​ | @kesskirata​ | @leannawithacapitala​ | @murbeft | @omgreally​ | @pedropascaldice​ | @phoenixhalliwell​ | @phrog-seeds | @pilothusband​ | @queenofthefaceless-main | @reluctantlyresponsibleadult​ | @skyshipper​ | @softpedropascal​ | @speakerforthedead0​ | @starrdvstkenobi​ | @sunnydunnydays​ | @tacticalsparkles​ | @theorganasolo​ | @walt-breslin​ (if your url is crossed through it means I couldn’t tag you for some reason, I’m sorry!)

[yandere-daze]

Hi! Can I request hc’s of rinne with a s/o who’s on her period?😭😭 sorry if it’s gross fbheheehfjfh im on my period atm and I really badly need this

Ahhh of course, no worries!! I know from experience how painful they can be so I hope this alleviates the pain at least a little!!!

Periods can be very different from person to person so I based it off of my own personal experiences with it

Also first time writing something for Rinne so I'm sorry if it's a bit ooc!

tw blood, period blood (mentioned)

Rinne with an s/o that's on their period

To be honest, I think Rinne would be able to figure out what's going on pretty quickly

He looooves to tease you or be annoying on purpose to see your cheeks flush in frustration but this time, you had a very different reaction from usual to his remarks. Normally you would just roll your eyes or if you were in an especially good mood maybe indulge him a little.

But now?

"Oh cut it out Rinne, leave me alone!", you yelled at him before rolling around on your bed, your back now facing him

Obviously he immediately noticed you were in bad spirits and as he stepped closer, he saw how you were curling up into a fetal position, your face contorted into a pained grimace as you were clutching your stomach

And though he puts on an idiotic and carefree front, Rinne is a smart guy and immediately connects the dots : you're on your period

"Kyahahaha, I see, I see! Lady Luck is not on your side today, huh? My poor little y/n, havin' a hard time over there? "

For a moment he considers teasing you some more but decides against in when he sees just how pained you looked, as he grew unusually serious for once

" But I wouldn't be a very good boyfriend if I just let my soulmate suffer like this, am I right? Hahh I guess I gotta go do something if I still want you to be alive for our wedding sometime in the future. Can't have you bleeding out on me kyahaha!"

Even though your whole body was aching, you couldn't help but chuckle at your boyfriend's usual antics, slightly touched by the fact that he seemed to care enough about your comfort to try and find a way to help you

Would be the kind of guy to ironically ask what size of p*ssy you have with a shit-eating grin on his face

He might fake-complain a bit about having to spend some of his precious gambling-time on buying things for you but would actually run to the other side of the world for you if he really needed to

He's pretty whipped, what can I say

He doesn't really have a lot of experience with periods and he doesn't quite know how to deal with it either, seeing as he grew up in a pretty sheltered village and only started to get to know more things after he ran away moved to the city

So he would ask you what you need before rushing off to get you what you needed as fast as possible. Rinne can be really exhausting at times if you were being honest but he was there for you when it mattered and it was obvious by small gestures such as this that he really loved you

Comes back quite a bit later than what you would have thought was necessary to get everything you asked him for

"I'm back! Missed me already? I bet ya did, you just can't resist your loving future-husband, huh? Hahaha!! Now don't throw me such a nasty glare y/n, it deeply wounds me!!"

He excitedly runs to you and drops off everything he had bought for you, pads, tampons( or whatever else you use) and eventual pain killers you might have needed. Looking at the products you notice they were all of rather high quality, which Rinne gladly explained as he bragged about how he had gotten a great bargain from the vendor

You thanked him and groggily went to the bathroom to freshen up some

As you came back, you were surprised to come back to the smell of warm soup drafting through the apartment

"Rinne.. Did you make this for me?" You couldn't quite believe it if you were being honest

"Of course I did, aren't you just so happy to have me?" He yapped as he kept stirring the pot. You raised your eyebrows at him and tilted your head, silently prompting Rinne to explain how he had magically prepared a self-made chicken soup within less than five minutes

"Well I didn't exactly make the soup. After I was done buying those things for you I went over and banged on Niki's apartment door until he would let me in. I properly begged him to cook some soup for you, told him you were deathly sick with fever! Didn't think he would panic so much that he would need to redo the soup twice because he was spilling over everything in his haste. So not my fault that I came back so late kyahaha! "

You stared at him dumbfounded and made a mental note to text Niki later to inform him that you were, in fact, not dying

The rest of the day was spent with both of you eating Niki's soup and then lazing around the bed together and playing cards with each other (with you strictly refusing to gamble real money on this card game, not that Rinne had been all that serious)

It would have been a really unfair match too, after all, how was Rinne supposed to lose with his personal good luck charm right beside him?

[ajwamiju-archives]

Congratulations on your new milestone! Im very proud of you and in the future, there will be more to come. Im using this account because i cant use the ask feature in my account (sugar-corner) I wanted to join your event if thats okay?

Im an ambivert, some people describe me as a little too honest and a hot head at times. If i get comfortable with a person i treat them like family. My favorite food is chicken skin, favorite color is yellow, my hobbies are journaling, writing and reading. I love collecting stationery. My pronouns are she/her. My favorite writing prompt is friends to lovers or childhood friends to lovers, i just cant get enough of it. Is it okay if i ask the outcome to be fluff? I feel very uncomfortable around guys like terushima, but anything is fine!

I dont know if this is enough? Thank you for letting me ask you!

Hi! Thank you so much for joining! 

Of course it’s okay, and I think you’ve given me plenty to work with!

I hope the person I pair you with as well as the one-shot I’ve written satisfies you and does the character justice! It was so fun working with a more slice of life genre (since, well, I don’t write a lot of fluffy slice of life stories) and working with this character (hope he’s not too ooc) bc as soon as I read your ask, my mind immediately went to this person. So again, I hope you enjoy the one-shot!

And remember, stay hydrated and healthy!

“Are you still working on that short series you said you’d post to your blog?”

The familiar smooth and calm voice causes you to peel your attention away from the computer in front of you. Where the paragraph you’d been working on stops abruptly, waiting to be completed, yet you’re absolutely out of ideas, and you don’t know why or how to continue it. Akaashi leans down behind you and skims through the last few paragraphs you’d written, humming every few seconds as he tries to understand the direction of the part you’ve written.

“Keiji-kun, you really have to stop appearing abruptly in my room like that.” You sigh, scooting a bit so he can read more comfortably.

“But I did knock on your door, I also said I’m coming in.” He says, gluing his eyes to the screen, narrowing it slightly as he reads through the words.

“Okay, fine. That’s on me,” you huff as you turn your attention back to your computer. “But anyway, yes. I just seem stuck on this part and I don’t know what direction to take this to without making it awkward.”

Akaahi hums in understanding and nods. “What are you trying to make the characters do here?” He asks, scrolling further up.

“Well, I was thinking of hinting the childhood friend’s crush on the protagonist without making it seem obvious, you know? I guess any scene would work, I just… don’t exactly know what scene to do.”

“I think I see what’s making the scene and in turn the next scenes feel stiff. Since this is told from a third person, limited to the protagonist point of view, why not make it something they usually do? Make it something the protagonist thinks is normal since they do it all the time but make the readers think there’s something in between them.”

You groan and lean back on your chair, pouting at Akaashi’s explanation. “Like what? What is subtle enough for the protagonist but obvious enough for the readers?”

“Them studying together? Sharing a plate of food? Just mundane, everyday things, really, or a thing they do together that you’ve established earlier in the story.”

You blink twice at your open document before looking up, meeting Akaashi’s deep, dark blue eyes. You look back down and focus on the story you’re writing, trying to beat down the warmth starting to spread across your cheeks. “I guess one of those could work, I’m still unsure though… do you mind proof-reading it when it’s done?” You ask as you start deleting a few of the paragraphs to start replacing them.

“Of course. Anyway, I came here to drop some chicken skin my mum made earlier today, don’t forget to share it with your family.” Akaashi says and pats your head before exiting the room.

You stare back at your document and bury your face in your hands, feeling the warmth spread to your whole face. It’s unfair, it really is. You’ve known Akaashi since you moved to the neighbourhood as a child, you can remember him as someone who wasn’t exactly attractive as a child, but The Gods decided to do him a massive favour once he hit puberty that even you— his closest, oldest friend— developed a crush on him.

Yes, Akaashi was nice and smart before, helping you proof-read your stories or bring you chicken skin whenever he sees you having a bad day. He was always able to diffuse your anger before it gets out of hand or remind you when your words may seem a bit harsh to someone. But when his voice dropped a few pitches lower and was able to overcome his teenage acne (curse him for barely having it), it was what pushed you off the cliff, tumbling down as your feelings for him grew. At the end of the day however, you’re just his childhood friend, and as cliché as it sounds, you don’t think you’ll be able to confess to him like every other people’s reason for not confessing to their childhood friends, you’re scared to make things awkward with him.

It’s a fickle thing to be in and it can go wrong in so many ways, but you still crave for something more from him than just platonic love, evident by the story you’re writing or the number of entries in your journal about him (with a disguised name of course, can’t have him accidentally reading it and seeing his name blatantly written in there, you’re sure he can guess it’s him from the details you wrote about him though…). One that is inspired by your dilemma and hopefully as a medium to pour out your feelings. Of course, you made it different from your current situation, only slight similarities since Akaashi frequently proof-reads your works, including this one. But with how perceptive he is, you’re slightly worried he’d see the similarities and connect the dots.

You decide that’s enough wallowing on your (most probably) hopeless love life with Akaashi, which ended before it can even start. You start working on the story once more with renewed determination since you’ve reminded yourself that you’re nearing the end of the story where the protagonist is going to get confessed to by her childhood friend.

You finish the story in a record of two days before quickly sending it to Akaashi, getting a few pointers on where things could be changed. With his help, two revisions are enough to be deemed perfect for posting, with him standing by your side during the release of the first chapter to your blog.

“Congratulations [Name]-chan, I’m sure this story will do well with your audience.” He says as he watches the chapter get uploaded, patting your head with a smile.

“Thanks, Keiji-kun, really needed to hear that.” You nod, logging off from your computer.

“Now that you’ve finished with the story, don’t forget to study for your exams. It’s coming next week after all.”

“I know, I know. I have to have my grades up if I want to get into a good university to pursue my dream job.” You grumble with a pout.

Akaashi laughs and smiles down at you, placing the hand that was on our head to your shoulder, making him stand much closer to you. “Anyway, who’s the story about?”

You stiffen in your seat and shake your head quickly. “What are you talking about? It’s about no one in particular… I’m just a sucker for childhood friends to lovers or friends to lovers in general!” You sputter, putting a small distance between yourself and your tall childhood friend.

“Are you sure?” He asks, leaning down to see eye-to-eye with you. “I just felt like the childhood friend character is a bit similar to me, so I thought I’d ask.”

You bite the inside of your lip and look down, no doubt the blush on your whole face is now noticeable to him. “Alright… okay you got me… I may have… took some inspiration from you.” You admit, gripping the hem of your shirt tightly in hopes it will ease the pounding of your heart.

Akaashi’s smile widens a small fraction as he leans in and places a soft kiss to your lips, raising a hand to softly rub your cheek before pulling away. “It’s not exactly a confession under the sakura tree on graduation day like in the story, but I just feel like waiting for graduation is a bit too long.”

Your eyes are wide before averting them bashfully, placing the back of your hand in front of your lips. “Of course you of all people noticed who the story’s based off of.” You mumble.

Akaashi laughs and once again, you find his hand softly going through the strands of your hair. “You’re not exactly that subtle with writing the characters’ personalities.”

“No, you’re just too perceptive for my own good.” You shoot back, taking Akaashi’s hand from your head to hold it in yours instead.

“Well, I think it did us good in the end. So, how about a date after exams end?” He asks.

Your lips form a soft smile as you gaze at your intertwined hands, feeling all soft and fuzzy inside from what had just transpired mere minutes ago. “That sounds nice.” You answer, hopeful of the shift of your relationship with your dearest childhood friend.

Join the match-up + one-shot event here!

[yunatheintrovert]

i kinda of want to address the lima syndrome aspect more but with stitch

a man who has always had trouble finding his emotions and he discovers them in bell of all people

adler’s pet project that he had intended to destroy. just thinking about him recognizing that she’s the one person that he’s most social with. despite the antagonizing the unstable constructs of her mind, he often finds himself idly talking about his past and life before the tragedy. and his help him when he genuinely wants to hear her insight and opinions. he’ll get attached before he even realizes the rope is tied

Yes!! I love the idea of Stitch going through Lima Syndrome towards Bell. It absolutely makes sense to me considering their dynamic and commonalities. Here’s my thoughts and ideas on it which kinda come from how I imagine Stitch’s perspective. Hopefully, it’s not too messy, OOC, or confusing....

Ah yes, the CIA’s little science project. 

He had captured her during a mission, intending on killing her the moment Perseus made up his mind about what to do with his once loyal little subordinate. 

Stitch knew Bell had been tortured by the CIA. Oh, he knew that. He was even intrigued slightly by that. But while Bell had been broken, he had not. There was a quiet pride to Stitch in how he never gave up anything in that interrogation by Adler and the CIA. This was why he did not initially acknowledge him and Bell as kindred spirits. He considered her to be weaker. Despite this, he was rather fascinated by the scars all over her body. His eyes were drawn to them as he watched from his place leaning against the wall, keeping a close eye on any hidden weapons she made out of utensils or spare things, as Bell changed her clothing. 

He noticed the scars all over her body, some matched her skin tone slightly while others were distinctly newer in their pinker tone. 

She had gotten as much treatment by the CIA as he had, perhaps even more considering how long she had been their captive. 

Despite how broken Bell appeared, in reality she bent but didn’t break. Stitch could see that in the strange looks and light in Bell’s eyes when he brought up Perseus. Although, something about that bothered him. 

That loyalty. 

Even when Perseus hadn’t immediately concerned himself with finding her, deep down Bell was still the ever loyal one. The only question in her mind was to whom that sheer devotion was directed towards (Perseus or Adler?). Either one bothered Stitch as he didn’t want her to be loyal. 

He wanted her to rage at them for abandonment. Just like how he was abandoned by Kravchenko and the State. 

Perhaps, this rather obsessive frustration towards Bell is what causes him to start antagonizing the already unstable constructs of her mind. Stitch pushes and pushes at Bell’s mind, bringing up triggers, remarks, and phrases he knows will bite into her.

“We have a job to do, Bell.” 

“Adler still runs like a headless chicken with a new pig with him, маленький предатель.” he said before remarking about how Adler has already replaced Bell easily with a new operative.

Stitch finds himself rather surprised when Bell just quietly nods with no surprise in her eyes. She glances up at him before saying quietly, “I am of no use to them anymore.” 

Sometimes, Stitch makes the occasional joke to Bell just to see and test her reactions. Something about Bell intrigues the academic and scientist Stitch once was. 

“I should put a bell on you.” he says one day, staring down at her as she sheepishly looks up at him with a quiet laugh. 

“You wouldn’t be the first to try.” Bell replies amusedly. The little laugh she made was something Stitch liked. It was different from the usual blank and accepting stares he received from the pointed words he directed at her. 

When Stitch found out Perseus assigned him to the rather menial duty of guarding Bell, he couldn’t bring himself to be too bothered by it. Although, he couldn’t help but wonder when Perseus was going to make the decision on what to do with Bell. 

Oddly enough, Stitch ends up being the one to talk the most. Bell is quiet a lot of the times as she kept mostly to her own thoughts .But she listens well, nodding in acknowledgement as Stitch finds himself talking about his past and life before tragedy. 

Apparently, Bell speaks more when Stitch talks about himself. There was something always hollow and confused in her eyes when Stitch made the conversation about her. She reacted more when he spoke as well. Curiosity dancing in her eyes as she spoke up quietly asking question after question. 

And so he talks more and more about his past. 

Bell looks on with curious interest when Stitch talks about the chemical formulas of various compounds he experimented with during his undergraduate years at the Faculty of Technology of Organic Substances and Pharmaceutical Chemistry of the Mendeleev Institute of Chemical Technology. It isn’t often he talks about his years as an academic. 

It isn’t long before Stitch finally brings up his military years, showing her the crossbones with the green beret tattoo on his left forearm. His work with Kravchenko wasn’t his first time involved in clandestine operations. Stitch talks about past operations, chemical warfare utilized in operations taped behind so much red tape. He isn’t worried about Bell knowing this as he no longer has loyalty to the State itself and also he knows she will not live long if she tries to escape. 

After all, the CIA abandoned her first. And Bell has many enemies, from her days with Perseus and then with the CIA. 

Soon everything settles in a routine. 

Each morning, Stitch finds Bell waiting quietly in her cell as if expecting him to walk through the door. After giving her the medication she usually had for the side-effects of MK Ultra, he settles in the desk by her cell and works on adjusting the chemical formulas and canister functions for Nova-6 and other chemical weapons to be improved in deadlier ways. However, that work soon grows old for him in a few hours. Instead, he favors talking to Bell distractedly, always trying to get something out of her: a new reaction, a new look in her eyes, or something new she says about herself. Although, often Stitch finds himself yet again idly talking about himself with some curious prompting and looks by Bell. 

However, that routine is suddenly disrupted one day. Stitch walks into Bell’s cell late one day and finds her being strangled by the larger form of one of his operatives. What Stitch did next was almost instinct in and of itself. As he kneeled down to look over her, he noted how the droplets of blood from the operative he shot point-blank was on Bell’s face. 

When she looks up at him with those wide eyes and asks him “why”, Stitch just stares down at her.

That was a new reaction from her. Those widened eyes and trembling hands. 

He wasn’t sure if he liked it, how that reaction was drawn out of her by the soldier he shot dead.

And so he just wiped the blood off her cheek with a gloved hand, leaving a crimson streak across her cheek.

I hope this turned out alright! I’m still getting used to thinking from the perspective of Stitch’s character. I hope this wasn’t OOC or confusing. Thanks for sending in the ask! It was a ton of fun to write these ideas out from Stitch’s perspective of things for once. 

[everlarkficexchange]

Sunset on Grass

Written by: @alliswell21

Prompt 67: Her parents said that it was just a childhood crush and that she will outgrow it. But why does her heart flutters. When she’s finally old enough to get a job, she immediately gets a part time job to be close to him. Will is pursue her love against people’s negative views because he’s so much older than her. Or go for it and make him fall in love with her. Age Gap Older!Peeta. [submitted by @animekpopxx]

  Rated M: for later chapters/ this particular one is actually G. 

  Tags: Age Difference- Peeta is 19 years older than Katniss, but there won’t be any romance until she’s of age, so I might as well tag this as Slow Burn. Time Jump. Mr Everdeen is alive in this one, which makes Katniss OOC. Tags will update according to chapter posted.

Unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. This chapter closed at around 4200 words. Happy reading.

Thank you to @javistg and @xerxia31 for once again hosting Our Beloved Exchange. You guys are the best!!! 

—————

CHAPTER ONE:

It was a very cold day; Mama made us wear hats and gloves and clunky snow boots, but the worst offender in my 8 year old opinion, was the fact she forced me to wear a fleece over my long sleeve shirt with the sparkly pink hearts, and then a heavy winter coat to top it all, covering my favorite outfit that happened to be perfectly apt for the month of February… who had time to worry about layering for the weather, when Valentine’s Day gave us the perfect excuse to wear mushy, pink, glittery hearts in public?! 

  Prim had just turned four recently, and Daddy decided she was finally old enough to sit through a movie at the theater with us ‘grown ups’ like a big girl. Normally, he would’ve let Prim pick the movie, since it was her first time joining us, but when we got to the theater, I begged to see Bridge to Terabithia, because all the girls in my class had a crush on the main character actor, some Josh Hutcher-something or another, and I really wanted to see what the fuss was about with the boy. 

  Well, none of my little girlfriends bothered to tell me the movie was so darned sad! 

  Prim wailed and sobbed despite not really understanding what happened in the story. All she knew was that Mama sniffled and dabbed at the corner of her blue eyes with a wadded-up napkin, and that was enough for her to let her tears fall freely, clinging to Daddy’s neck until hiccups raked her tiny frame. 

  At the end of the movie, Mama’s eyes were red rimmed but she at least was done sniffling. Daddy and I just sat there stoically, like the hardened leaders of our small clan, we were… if my lips trembled, it had nothing to do with the sap fest we just endured. 

  Daddy sighed, “Some movies should come with disclaimers.” He grumbled, adjusting Prim on his hip while pulling open the exit door.

  “I thought it was great. The young actors were marvelous. Such range of emotion…” Mama gushed, before wiping the corner of her eye daintily. “I’d recommend it to other people, personally.”

  Daddy gave her a look, and then Mama amended, “With a warning for grief and depression.” Her lips formed a thin line, but Daddy seemed satisfied, so we walked into the frigid February afternoon and winced in unison as soon as the cold hit our faces. 

  Prim was still intermittently sobbing.

  “Primrose, honey, will a treat help you cheer up some?” Daddy asked quietly, tenderly caressing her cheek.

  My baby sister nodded, her pitiful big o’ blue eyes shining with unshed tears. 

  “Let’s get you a nice treat then. Let’s take advantage of those neatly shoveled sidewalks our tax money afforded us.” Said Daddy smiling sweetly, his gray eyes twinkling. 

  We crossed the street and kept on going until we reached the square a block away and then hesitated for a second in front of the ice cream parlor, finally settling for the quaint little bakery two doors down. 

  Immediately, my cheeks warmed up and I tried to walk with my back a little straighter, just in case a certain baker boy was working that day. My heart rattled against my ribs and I tried real hard to keep my eyes up, but as usual, chickened out last minute and all I could see was the ground. 

  Daddy walked in making the bell above the entrance chimed cheerfully; he held the door open so Mama and I could scoot into the building. We all stood just inside the door, taking a collective sigh of relief at the warmth and inviting aromas of the bakery: Yeast, sugar and freshly brewed coffee mingled in the air, welcoming.  

  “Afternoon Everdeens!” Called a deep, velvety and familiar voice from somewhere ahead. “Come on in and make yourselves at home, please!” Mister Peeta smiled, like us, walking into his family’s shop was the highlight of his day. 

  It surely was mine, of course; not that anyone would’ve been able to tell just by how gun-shy I acted, except from my parents that is. 

  They knew alright. 

  They knew all about my crush on the young baker, and at least Mama thought it was cute. Daddy wasn’t too comfortable acknowledging it, so he usually rolled his eyes at Mama about it.

  But who wouldn’t have a thing for mister Peeta, really? He was nice, polite, and handsome, with a soft looking face and bright blue eyes, always smiling, and wavy blond hair that curled under the many baseball caps he wore (currently, he donned one with the Mellark’s logo on the front.). He was also strong… or at least I figured he had to be, since he was school wrestling champion and all. I hadn’t witnessed it myself of course, mister Peeta and my folks were ancient compared to me, but I grew up hearing the stories. 

  Mama and Daddy had been high school sweethearts who’d been in the same grade as mister Rye— mister Peeta’s older brother— so they knew the Mellark brothers some. Daddy said Mr. Peeta was the pride of the town as a teenager, since he became State Wrestling champion in his senior year of high school, a full two years after my folks graduated Panem

high. 

  “How are you doing, Peeta?” Said Daddy reaching a hand over the counter to shake the baker’s.

  Mama waved and smiled, offering her own little “Hello, Peeta.” Then nudged me to do the same, and my eyes about popped out of my sockets when the baker smiled and winked one of his bright, blue eyes at me. 

   “I heard you’re leaving for Europe soon?” Asked Daddy.

  Mister Peeta smiled widely, “Yes! Got accepted to study pastistry at a prestigious school in France. I can’t wait.” His excitement was contagious.

  “That’s great, Peeta!” Interjected my mama. “I bet your folks are pleased. The bakery will boom with everything you’ll bring back with that training.” 

  Mister Peeta nodded, and though he was still smiling, he didn’t look happy. “Full scholarship ride, and I came up with my own ticket and expenses money from a year’s worth of savings. My mother is really pleased.” 

  For some reason, it didn’t sound like Mrs Mellark was truly pleased. Not for the first time, I thought adults could be so weird when they talked, not saying what they truly meant. 

  Still, Mama and Daddy offered congratulations again and I felt my stomach knot when Mister Peeta spoke again, and for once my eyes were glued to his kind face. 

  “Enough about me. Y’all came in right on time,” Mister Peeta clapped his enormous hands once, “I just pulled a tray of cheese buns out of the oven, and sat them to cool on a rack in the back. Let me go grab y’all some. I heard cheese buns are Miss Katniss’ favorites!” 

  I almost choked at that, and turned my head owlishly to glare at my parents, wondering who’d spilled my secrets behind my back to the handsomest man ever. 

  Mama was already sitting at a table; she was covering her smile behind the gloves she just pulled off her hands, while Daddy rolled his eyes slightly before sliding into the bench with Prim still wrapped around him like a baby Koala. 

  So Mama then. She tattled on me. 

  Traitor! 

  At Daddy’s behest, I came and sat next to him; Prim on his lap, and all of our coats in the space next to Mama on the opposite side of the half booth. 

  Mister Peeta came back with a tray bearing hot chocolate in white mugs engraved with ‘Mellark’s’, and a dish piled high with pastries. He placed four small plates in front of each of us, and gifted us with one more of his wide, welcoming grins. 

  “Tuck in, Everdeens! Enjoy!” The bell above the door chimed with more customers, but right before he left, mr. Peeta leaned closer to me and suggested, “Dip your bread in the chocolate. Is my favorite snack on cold days like today.” He winked again and I almost fainted.

  He truly was the handsomest man ever! 

  Mama’s smile just widened. She tried to hide it behind her cup of cocoa though, but Daddy let out a noise, like a grudgingly amused grunt of sorts. 

  “Lily,” He warned halfheartedly. 

  Mama looked up at him, wide, blue eyes innocently. “What?” She mumbled.

  “Stop teasing.” He said, sinking his straight teeth into his cheese bun. “She’s too young for crushes. Even on bakers that make amazing cookies and cheese buns. Ain’t that right, Catkin?” Daddy looked at me, arching one bushy eyebrow. 

  I scowled and turned my nose up at the lot of them before tearing chunks of my bun and dunking them in my hot chocolate. At the first bite, I had to admit, the baker was onto something! 

  “I don’t know what y’all are yapping about,” I said haughtily. 

  “There you go,” said Daddy grinning smugly at Mama, “That’s my girl!”

  Mama rolled her eyes and waved us off. “Oh well, it’s just puppy love. She’ll grow out of it soon enough, especially when he’s away in Paris and out of sight.”

  I chewed on my chocolate infused cheese bun, and my eyes lifted to watch mister Peeta bagging a customer’s order, taking payment with a grateful smile. 

  My heart drummed harshly in my chest. 

  I had no idea what the love of puppies had to do with anything, but I found it hard to believe the strange feeling of bubbles popping in my tummy would go away any time soon, even if I didn’t see the baker ever again. 

  ————————-

  My 16th birthday brought me a set of wheels, in the form of my daddy’s ancient but still reliable pick-up truck. But with the wheels, came Daddy’s caveats. 

  “Young lady, if you want to be driving around town, here are the rules,” he stated, “You gotta drive your sister to and from school. No boys—“

  “Or girls!” Interjected Mama, passing to the couch with a bowl of popcorn in hand.

  “Or girls,” Daddy continued glaring at Mama, “Unless Mama or I are in the truck with y’all.” 

  That one earned him a big groan from me, not that I’d planned on having friends ride with me places; after all, Gale had been driving his daddy’s old Jeep for the last two years, and Madge just got a new Volkswagen Beetle for her birthday, despite having failed her driving tests… twice! So we all had our own transportation, thank you very much. 

  “And, you are to keep the tank of the truck at least half full at all times.”

  “Alright. That’s cool—“ I started, but was swiftly interrupted. 

  “What your daddy means is, Sweet pea, you are responsible for your own gas. We won’t pay for it, unless it’s an emergency.” Said Mama delicately, her eyes shifting to Daddy’s for support, which he gave in a curt nod of his graying head.

  “Wait… what?” I stared at them in turn. “You mean I need to come up with my own gas money?” I asked just to clarify. “Even while having to chauffeur Prim around, like I’m a courtesy shuttle driver?” 

  “Lily, our daughter is a genius!” Said Daddy with his goofy dad smirk, “Haven’t I said so a million times before?”

  Mama giggled, “You sure have, Dear. Our Katniss is one bonafide genius!” 

  Truth be told, the prospect of having spending money of my own was actually exciting for me. We lived a decent life, not luxurious like the Undersee’s, or as tight as the Hawthorne’s, but comfortable enough to always have a pocketful of allowance dough; but having my actual money, without having to ask for it or justify why I needed it, was very appealing to me.

  I still groaned at my folks for their exuberance. I didn’t mind working hard; I’ve always helped Daddy doing house work around our place, and never complained about the daily chores imposed by Mama growing up; having an honest to God paying job sounded kind of… liberating. Like I was an adult, instead of a kid. 

  “You should try the shops in town,” Mama suggested. “Something close by that won’t interfere with school—“

  “Or archery club—“ Father chimed in.

  “Or soccer.” Said Prim crossing the room out of nowhere and plopping on the couch next to Mama, to munch on her popcorn. The demand was for her, since I didn’t play the sport. “I can’t miss practice. Rue would have a fit if I get kicked out.”

  “Fine! I’ll go ask around town if anyone needs help.” I made a show of rolling my eyes and shrugging, but inside, my blood quickened with the excitement of my impending job hunt.

  Twenty eight hours later, I was stumbling out of the Sweet’s store in town square, walking backwards and grinning like a lunatic. 

  “Thank you so much, Ms. Donner! Really. You won’t regret it! Thank you again!” I gushed and barely repressed a squeal of excitement, “I’ll see you Monday. Bye!” 

  I had to grab on to the frame of the open door, not to fall on my bottom like an uncoordinated noodle when I tripped on my own feet, and finally pulled myself away from the store front. I turned on my heel and practically skipped down the sidewalk, giggling non-stop. I managed to reel it in and climbed on my truck before pumping the air with my fists in a tiny victory dance. 

  Everything was coming up Katniss, and my spirits soared high! 

  I got myself a job, and while it wasn’t my first option— Mr. Mellark said his bakery was fully staffed at the time— I had effectively secured myself a source of gas money, which was my main concern and the literal driving force behind my job hunt. I counted as a perk, the fact that Mellark’s Bakery was sitting across the square from the Sweet Shop and I was granted an unobstructed view of the front room of the bakery from behind my counter, because watching the Mellark men working was just inspiring. And I meant that in a non creepy way… hopefully.

  I tried not to be as obvious with my crush on Mr. Peeta, but I wasn’t deaf and his mama— dubbed The Witch, by the town youngsters— enjoyed bragging loudly about her successful business, and a good chunk of that came from Peeta’s success as a baker. I pretty much knew anything a nosy sixteen year old girl could know about a guy twenty years her senior, hoarding all kinds of gossip about him like a dragon hoards gold.

  Being only a few years younger than my own father, Mister Peeta graduated from Panem U when I was a toddler. He earned a business degree he’d really never used; then, he went to Paris-France for almost three years, and trained with the best chefs in the pastry business, returning to our small town to open up his own high end patisserie, but since the economy had taken a dive those days and his shop was so new and fancy, he was forced to close up and take over the cakes and pastry side of Mellark’s, until things stabilized for new businesses. Sadly, he never ventured back on his own, which was a downright shame, because the man was a culinary genius and so artistic at that. 

  Currently, he worked weekend’s at Mellark’s while teaching at the Pastry school in Capitol City… not that I was keeping tabs on the man or anything. 

  I was just observant that way… 

  Sort of. 

  Mrs. Mellark liked to boast about things she had no hand in doing, like her youngest son’s accomplishments and success abroad and locally, but she was also a ruthless disparager who couldn’t care less when and where she criticized her sons or husband when something didn’t go her way. The Witch was always going on and on about Mr. Peeta going to France and becoming an expert cake decorator, and teaching pastrity at some hoity-toity culinary school in Capitol City, as if she herself had done it for him, and in the next breath she’d be groaning about how much of an inconvenience to her it was he went overseas for the training. The woman was a hag, but I couldn’t help people in town were so gossipy and when she started with the stories. I just perked up my ears and gobbled up all the information she was sharing. 

  Anyway, my mama’s prediction about my infatuation with Mr. Peeta ending, kind of flopped. The crushed endured all the years between his absence to Europe and his return; it was still going strong even at age sixteen, but I had learned to pine discreetly, surreptitiously sneaking peeks at mister Peeta from a distance and daydream about scenarios where the handsome baker finally noticed me, and we fell madly in love with each other and lived happily ever after in a marzipan house, eating all kinds of bread and cake without ever gaining an ounce of weight… Also, in those scenarios, Mr. Peeta was like ten years younger, and nobody batted an eye at us being together. 

  Of course, I wasn’t delusional. I knew nothing like it would ever happen; after all, Mr. Peeta was nineteen years older than me and devoted to his craft. But dreaming was free, and as long as the fantasies stayed locked in my head, I wasn’t hurting anyone but myself.

  ————————

  My first Saturday morning working at the Candy shop, I parked in the public parking lot, diagonal to the town square, before opening time. The lot was built adyacente to a few city offices to accommodate anyone running errands downtown, like paying their license tags, filing taxes, getting permits of miscellaneous natures, or simply taking a stroll around the square at dusk, licking on a frozen treat from the ice cream parlor or having dinner at the pizza place. It wasn’t too much of a stretch to park there if one worked in one of the mom-and-pop shops littering the picturesque merchant center of Panem. 

  I could’ve used the designated parking spaces on the road behind the sweets store, but there was a humongous dumpster next to ours, and Ms. Donner hadn’t given me a key to the back door yet, so even if the threadbare upholstery of my truck wasn’t threatening to absorb the stench of the whole neighborhood’s trash, there wasn’t any benefit to me parking there. 

  I yawned dispassionately tossing my keys in the new purse Prim gave me when I announced I’d found a job, because according to her, I was now a grown-up and needed a proper purse instead of my ratty messenger bag, that honestly had seen better days. I swept the bag off the bench and slammed the door shut without bothering to lock it. There was nothing in the cab worth stealing; everyone knew me and my folks, we were just another run of the mill middle class family, without any wealth to our names. 

  “Ouch!” A velvety, deep voice spoke from a little ways over, and my whole body went rigidly straight. “Shouldn’t treat your steed so harshly, Hunter. I don’t think old Francine appreciates it.” 

  I turned on my heels and peered at Mr. Peeta trying to keep myself from screeching in a panic or something equally embarrassing. 

  The man was just straightening up from retrieving a chef jacket from the back seat of what I surmised was his car, and lifted his gaze in my direction with a slight smirk on his lips that quickly fell off, giving way to a confused expression, as his bright, blue eyes fixed on mine. “You ain’t Hunter,” he mumbled, squinting a little.

  To his credit, it had been a while since he saw me last, despite me keeping tabs on him and stealing glances when I could. He had no reason to seek me out or anything, plus he was a busy man, always in the back room of the bakery working his pastillage gifts. Then again… ‘Francine’— my daddy’s former ‘89 F150– was like forever linked to Hunter Everdeen’s persona or something.

  “Katniss?” Mr. Peeta frowned, like fog was slowly lifting from his mind and vague recognition finally set in, making my heart lurch and beat unbearably fast. 

  I nodded mutely, but soon I answered a spastic, “Morning, mister Peeta. How do you do?” My mama hadn’t drilled sixteen years worth of relentless Southern hospitality for me to stay silent for long. I hesitated a second and trudged along without giving him a chance to respond, scowling at the ground, “Francine, she’s sturdy,” I chance a glance at his face, “But you’re right, she’s too old to be treated poorly. I’ll make sure to be gentler with her in the future.”

  Mr. Peeta arched his eyebrows, as if surprised by my mere voice. He tugged the collar of his plain white t-shirt, and then huffed a chuckle. 

  “Little Miss Katniss is driving now,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. He eyed me curiously, “Well, I guess you’re not little anymore. But wow! What a way to humble a man about his old age.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest, making me shift in place in mild arousal.

  He draped his chef’s shirt over his forearm and closed his car door softly. “I have no words to describe how I feel, discovering young Katniss Everdeen is old enough to drive Francine,” He tsked at his boots, but his smile made his eyes crinkle in the corners. “End of an era… for me at least. Beginning of a new one for you, I supposed.” He smiled self deprecatingly. 

  My face burned and my chest tightened at his words, not sure if I felt elation or embarrassment. 

  “Oh… you ain’t old, sir.” I waved him off, still scowling for no good reason. 

  Mr. Peeta laughed. “You’re too kind, Miss Katniss, but my I.D. disagrees. Plus, knowing you’re old enough to drive is a sobering thought.” He smiled kindly again. 

  “I turned sixteen a week and a half ago. Daddy gave me the truck for passing my driving test.” I volunteered without prompting.

  “Neat! Spring baby, then. Makes sense. Suits you.” Mr. Peeta smiled, and I got incredibly shy, excited and happy at his short words.

  “Yeah, May 8th.” I offered softly, “That’s me. Spring baby.” 

  “As I said, it suits you. I’m a wintry kid myself, so I try to be extra warm to counteract any cold disposition I might have.” He said, checking his watch. 

  I panicked slightly; I knew time was closing in, and I’d be dismissed soon, so I blurted out the first thing that popped into my head. “What brings you out here so early on a Saturday morning, anyway?”

  Mr. Peeta cocked his head sideways and glanced at me curiously. “Work.” He said in an amused, lilting tone. He lifted his arm to point at his chef uniform laid neatly folded. 

  I clamped my mouth immediately, to prevent any other ‘brilliant’ questions might escape. 

  Mr. Peeta smirked, probably realizing what a dork I was. “How about you? It’s awfully early for a kid to be downtown.” His face took a distant quality for his next words. “When I was your age, my mother would beat me out of bed for my Saturday shifts at the bakery… all I wanted to do was lay in bed until noon, you know. But, baker’s hours aren’t exactly flexible.” 

  My whole face twisted at that tidbit of information. I couldn’t read his emotion about his comment, which bothered me somehow. I started talking just because I disliked the way his face turned blank. 

  “I’m a morning person myself.” I shrugged. But my folks made me get a job so I could finance my gas addiction,” I was smuggly pleased when the baker started laughing heartily at my silly joke. It felt nice, knowing I said something he found funny. “Anyway, I’m working too. At Ms. Donner’s shop.”

  “Nice! Good taffy. Did old Maysilee offer to pay you in candy? I swear she did that to my brother, Bannock, one summer he decided to give another shop a try. ” He said conversationally, activating the alarm of his car. 

  “Oh, gosh!” I laughed, “No, she offered to give me a check every two weeks.” Then I looked at him dead in the eye, “Now the Christmas bonuses, those are in candy.” 

  We both laughed at that 

  Mr. Peeta nodded. “Well, Miss Katniss, I won’t keep you much longer, but if you need anything… a cheese bun for example,” He winked, putting my heart a flutter again, “Don’t hesitate to come in!” 

  With that, he started walking towards the narrow street behind the row of shops, no doubt heading to the back door of the bakery. 

  “Bye, Mister Peeta!” I croaked out belatedly. 

  Peeta waved over his shoulder. 

  All I could think after the encounter was how wrong my parents had been about my “puppy love” being a passing crush. 

……………………………..

Josh Hurcherson starred in Bridge to Terabithia, which came out in February of 2007. To this day, I can’t watch that movie without bawling my eyes out. Everyone should see it!

[chantelle-x0x]

It’s Getting Hard - Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

A/N: It’s been a hot minute! So I know this took a while and I apologise for the wait, but I lacked motivation to write and I thought a fic like this needed all of my brain working, so here it is! This is my fic for @tropicalcap who had a writing challenge. Sorry it took a while, but here it is! Thank you so much for letting me be part of this and congratulations on your milestone! My song prompt was ‘Are We Alone’ by Coin. This is a one-shot! I also interpreted one of the lines ‘Don't wanna dance in the dark’ in a different way. Enough of a A/N now!

Disclaimer: **All characters besides Reader, belongs to Marvel (MCU)**

Word count: 3,171 (including lyrics)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

MCU Characters: Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Rhodey, Bruce Banner, Tony Stark (mentioned), Bucky (mentioned), Sam (mentioned), Wanda (mentioned), Peter Parker (mentioned), Shuri (mentioned), T’challa (mentioned), Vision (mentioned), Fury (mentioned)

Rating: PG13+

Warnings: Angst, sadness, light drinking, IW spoilers, careless Steve, probably a little OOC for Steve but yeah.

Summery: Your anniversary doesn’t go to plan, and then the day after doesn’t either. Your relationship is like a rocking boat at the moment and you’re trying to keep yourself at bay, but it’s getting hard.

(Gif not mine - it’s a huge gif whoops)

You’re disconnected Staring down at your phone Some company you are Across the table In that unflattering glow How did you get so far?

Even though the snap happened only a little while ago, you were celebrating your one year anniversary with Steve. It wasn’t easy the past couple of months since Steve had been so disconnected, but you made it work. He never let himself be Steve anymore either, he was almost always Captain America. The few times he did let his guard down, it was only ever with Nat. It hurt, of course it did. Natasha and Steve had a friendship that was strong, and only strengthened after everything happened, but that didn’t mean that you felt okay. Yes, it was good that Steve was talking to someone, but you would much prefer if he would talk to you. Tonight though, you had a spectacular evening planed.

As you were lost in thought as to what to wear with what was in your wardrobe, Steve knocked on your shared room door. ‘It’s fine to come in.’ You said, now turning around as the door opened. ‘You don’t have to knock on the door Steve, it’s your room too.’ You sighed, walking towards the bed to sit down in front of him.

‘Banner said that we have a device that was Fury’s. They’re hooking it up to find the power source and figure out what it actually is.’

‘That’s awesome! We could actually get some more help.’ Steve nodded in agreement before walking to what you had set out for him to wear.

‘We going somewhere?’ He asked with a confused frown. A sad pang hit you heavily, but you brushed it away, making yet another excuse for him in your head.

‘Mmm-hmm. We have a reservation at that place in Brooklyn that you said looked as though it hadn’t changed a bit since before the ice.’ The way Steve cocked his head to the side knocked down that last, thin layer of hope you held out. ‘For our anniversary.’ You said, laying back hard on your bed with a deep sigh and your eyes closed. You felt the bed dip beside you after a few seconds, and your hand was graced with a warm presence.

‘I’m so sorry doll, I completely forgot.’ Steve whispered. ‘I’ve been so preoccupied with everything lately, I wasn’t paying attention to the dates.’ You shrugged, still not opening your eyes; you knew that if you did, you wouldn’t be able to let those held in tears, stay held in.

‘It’s fine.’ You said simply in response. Steve’s movements were so swift, your brain took a second to realise what he was doing, but before you knew it, Steve had you sitting in his lap, facing him. You let your forehead touch his as a weak smile formed on your face.

‘Forgive me?’ He whispered to you. You kissed his cheek softly,

‘Of course.’

You had just made it in time for your reservation after leaving late that evening. Steve and you had made amends in one of your favourite ways possible, which is why you had high hopes that things were going to get better. When you looked over at your boyfriend, you see this sparkle in his eye, one you hadn’t seen in a long time. ‘Remind you of your pre-serum days?’ You asked as a light smile graced your features. Steve nodded with the biggest smile you’d seen in weeks.

‘Thank you doll.’ His tone was so soft and light, like bringing him to this place rebooted his character. A waiter came to your side and showed you to a small, private booth; somewhere where you’d both go unnoticed, where the music was clear to be heard and the performer was in view but still let you and Steve be together. You ordered a bottle of red for the table, along with what Steve had recommended you both order; Devilled Chicken with Sweet-Sour Carrots on the side.

You didn’t think your anniversary dinner would be awkward, but it was so silent. You suddenly thought to ask him if he had any memories of him and Bucky coming to a place like this in the 30’s, but as you lifted your eyes from the wine in your glass to your partner across from you, you saw that he was 100% not with you. His brows were furrowed as he stared down at his phone. Some company you are tonight. You couldn’t help but think. ‘You’re food’s getting cold Steve.’ You said softly, as you looked at his untouched plate.

‘Hmm, sorry. I just got a message from Rhodey, ‘said that they found some sort of a signal with that little device.’ You hummed in response as you slumped in your seat. Just when you lost all hope in the night, a man about your age, asked for a dance. You looked at Steve, who was probably still having a conversation with the group, for any sign that he wouldn’t want you to dance with this stranger…nothing.

‘I’d love to dance.’ You said instead of answering with a no. You were pulled up gently by this new found man, and he led you gracefully to the dance floor. The dim lights caught the sparkle of your necklace, and your dress twirled around you with every twist and turn. A stunning woman came out to the microphone and started singing a 1940’s swing version of ‘Dancing with a Stranger’. How ironic. You thought with a little chuckle.

‘What’s so funny?’ The young gentleman asked.

‘The song.’ The man looked at you in question. ‘It’s called ‘Dancing with a Stranger’. It’s ironic is all.’ You said sheepishly.

‘I’m Flynn.’ He introduced.

‘Y/N.’ You replied.

‘No longer strangers.’ You both laughed as the song ended. ‘I hope that made your night better. You looked pretty down.’ You smiled and thanked him for the distraction. You exchanged numbers as well, before you left for your table with a smile still plastered on your face.

‘Had fun?’ Steve asked from behind you.

‘I did, thank you.’ You honestly couldn’t tell what Steve was thinking at this point. He was physically a step away, but emotionally and mentally, so far away.

Break my back just to make conversation Pulling teeth just to ask how your day went You're disconnected An inconsiderate mess You've got me all to yourself but

It was too quiet when you were walking around the park near the restaurant. Steve looked like he was in another world, and it really did feel like the most uncomfortable day you’d ever spent with Steve. ‘Are you mad because I danced with Flynn?’ You asked your boyfriend calmly.

‘So that’s his name.’ Steve responded so softly, you probably wouldn’t have heard if you weren’t in the park alone with him.

‘Don’t do that Steve.’ You said with annoyance taking over you a little bit.

‘Don’t do what Y/N?’ He asked in a similar tone to you. ‘You’re the one that danced with a total stranger!’

‘I only danced with him because you were too busy on your phone!’ You both took a small breath to calm yourselves down. ‘I’m sorry that I upset you Steve, but this is not how I wanted today to go. This was meant to be a day where we could relax together. Be together. But it seems that all you want to do is be working.’ You knew you sounded a little whiney and childish, but you had hoped this would be the one day he’d open up to you; such wishful thinking.

‘I’m sorry doll, I just…I really want to get everyone back soon, especially Buck and Sam. I miss them. I lost Bucky again, and I’d do anything to get him back for hopefully, the last time.’

‘While you’re busy doing that, you’re losing me Steve. I can’t keep chasing you and giving you all the space you need, but being there when you need me without getting any love from your side.’ His facial expression turned hard and his jaw clenched.

‘I’m trying Y/N, but if you feel that way, then just break up with me. I’m not going to be the one to do it since I know I care about you a lot, but if you don’t think this is working, you break up with me.’ You know that there are tears falling slowly down your cheeks, but you refused to show that you noticed them.

‘Let’s just go home Steve.’ You say weakly, before walking in front of him.

I see you hiding Behind a flickering screen What did you come here for? And then you light up Who's keeping you company? Don't wanna dance in the dark

When you enter the compound, it’s eerily quiet, all you can hear is Steve walk in behind you and shuffle to a room in the compound. Following him, you enter the lab and see what everyone has been doing for the past couple of hours.

‘This is a nightmare.’ You hear Steve say as he’s looking at the strange paging device.

‘I’ve had better nightmares.’ Nat responds to him. You see Rhodey come in and tell the two of them something. They both sigh before following him into another lab where Bruce is. You keep silent, not sure if your presence was yet noticed by anyone. Like most of the time, Steve and Nat were on the same side to reboot the pager. As they spoke, you were almost knocked off your feet. A blonde lady was now standing in front of Steve as he had turned around. After you offered to make coffee for everyone, you all went to the living room and started to talk to the space lady who’s name you had learned was Carol Danvers.

‘So you’ve known Fury for a long time, why didn’t he recruit you into the Avenger Initiative?’ You asked Carol.

‘I guess he didn’t think I was needed but now, I take he didn’t think that anymore.’ You saw Steve chuckle. This comment made Rhodey get a little annoyed. He voiced your opinion but Carol didn’t back down; you honestly couldn’t fault her for that, in fact, you admired how she was strong to her beliefs. Steve took a fast liking towards her and you could tell that from where you were standing.

After everyone had dispersed for the evening, you went to you and Steve’s shared room and changed into a white t-shirt that belonged to Steve, before hoping into your large bed and picking up the book you’ve been reading, up off your beside-table. Steve entered the room not too long after, and you raised your eyes above the pages. ‘You still mad?’ You asked quietly as he took off his shoes.

‘Are you?’ He responded not looking at you yet, heading into the bathroom. You sighed as you placed the book down and got out off the warm blankets surrounding you. Walking to the bathroom door, you lean on the frame and look at Steve.

‘I wasn’t mad Steve, I was disappointed and maybe a little let down. I just thought that you and I could act as though things were more normal for tonight.’ This is when Steve finally decides to look at you, his features softer.

‘That’s the thing Y/N, we can’t live as though things are normal because they aren’t. As hard as we’re trying to come up with a solution, it hasn’t happened yet; and until it does and we have solved this issue, things aren’t going to be normal.’ You could see the pain Steve was hiding.

‘I’m sorry Stevie. I didn’t realise how bad all the trial and error ideas were effecting you.’ He managed a weak smile, but instead of continuing a conversation, you walked into the bathroom and hugged him tightly; he didn’t take long to reciprocate the hug. After a while, you let Steve get out off his clothes before he climbed into bed beside you. This is when he checked his phone and a smile graced his face. ‘Something happen?’ You ask your boyfriend.

‘Carol got a new phone and she’s now in the Avenger group chat.’ You hummed in response, trying so hard not to get jealous. You kissed Steve before turning on your side with your back to him, and fell asleep. You woke up to your boyfriend still on his phone. You picked up yours to see the time; almost 3:00 AM. He had a smile on his lips and you sighed then rolled over, whispering his name. You leaned up on your elbows and rested your head on his shoulder.

‘What are you doing Steve? It’s almost 3 in the morning.’ Your voice was soft and quiet.

‘Sorry doll, I got carried away with talking to Carol. She found out about the language thing.’ You laughed lightly as he showed you the message.

‘Can you put the phone down now Stevie?’ You asked in a whisper as you kissed the crook of his neck lightly. The truth is, you didn’t mind Carol at all, but you did mind that she had just met Steve and he was closer to her in a day compared to you, who had been with him for a year and known him even longer. Steve turned off his phone and set it on the table beside him, before stretching. You took his hand in yours and entwined them together. His thumb rubbed the top of your hand, before he pulled you closer to him. You kissed him gently and he quickly reciprocated, before he pulled you so close that space wasn’t known between you two, and kissed you deeper and harder. Before anything could happen though, Steve pulled away and sighed.

‘We have a lot to do tomorrow Y/N, we should probably go to sleep.’ You couldn’t help the disappointment that settled in you, but you did roll back to your side of the bed and tried to fall asleep again, but it didn’t descend on you, so instead, you went to find Tony’s “secret” stash of single malt whiskey. This was where he kept the few bottles the two of you shared on your sleepless nights; it was always fun together.

Why are you hiding? An inconsiderate mess

You sat on a chair that was in the dim room and finally let your emotions out. One by one, tears started to fall. You cried for Tony, Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Shuri, Peter, T’challa, Vision and Fury. You cried because you hadn’t done that yet. You’d been so wrapped up in making sure Steve was okay, you completely forgot about your own mental health and how you felt. You also cried because you knew you were losing Steve. It wasn’t a secret anymore, not to you anyway. Maybe you stayed because he had already lost so much. Did you feel obligated to do it? You weren’t manipulated to stay, he did tell you to break up with him if you wanted to. Everything became too much at this point, and you had to let it all out, so what better place to do so than the place you shared with Tony. Tony was like a father figure to you. He was your dad’s best friend, but when your dad passed when you were a young child, Tony took you in. You were glad he had taken you under his wing instead of your mother, she left for a reason, a reason you still didn’t know. If you lost Tony, that would kill you. Peter was like a little brother to you. You always laughed and joked around. He taught you everything his suit could do and even locked you in your room once because you lost a bet to him. Bucky and Sam never failed to make you laugh and you missed their companionship. Their constant bickering always made for some good, live reality TV. Wanda was your best friend. She always knew what to say and encouraged you to do things that pushed you out off your shell. Vision and you would work together on your knowledge. You loved learning, so you and him would sit together and just talk about things that were going on around the world; he’d inform you of issues and you’d do research and tell him all about your finds. T’challa and Shuri, although you had barley met them before they were taken, they were good people, they fought for everyone just like the Avengers. Thinking all of this made you chuck back the drink and pour another as you felt the burn going down your oesophagus. You tasted the salt of your tears before you downed the remnants of your second drink before leaving for your bathroom.

A headache from the crying, late night and alcohol made you need to take some medicine so that you’d be clear for the day ahead. Coming out off the bathroom after a shower and brushing your teeth, you dressed into your suit (just in case), before bumping into Steve.

Are we alone? Your eyes are staring vacantly Oh are you even listening at all? There's no one here but you and me So tell me, would you rather be alone? Would you rather be alone? Would you rather be alone?

‘Mornin’ doll. Where were you this morning?’ Steve asked, curiously.

‘I went to a place in the compound that Tony and I used to go to together…when we couldn’t sleep.’ Steve just nodded.

‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay.’ He said beginning to head into the bathroom.

‘You know Steve, you never asked me how I was after the snap.’ You said, the alcohol probably giving you a boost of confidence.

‘You seemed fine.’ He said casually.

‘Well, I wasn’t.’ You let the anger and hurt bubble inside of you, prepared to let it out like a fiery dragon.

‘Okay, how are you then?’ He asked monotony.

‘I could be better.’ You replied sharply. ‘I have a really crappy boyfriend that pays little to no attention to me, half of the people I consider my family are gone, and I might have lost the only parent figure I had because of stupid Thanos! How do you think I’m feeling Steven?’ Your shouts becoming louder as you finished talking. Steve looked at you with a guilty look.

‘I didn’t realise that doll. I’m so sorry that I’ve been so neglecting and distant.’

‘As much as I’d love to accept your apology Steve, I just don’t think you mean that. You’ve said sorry so many times over the last 24 hours, it’s starting to become meaningless.’ You begin to walk out the door, but right before you do, you look Steve right in the eyes, your eyes tearing up, and say, ‘Rhetorical question Steve, but, would you rather be alone?’

---

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Permanent tag list: @the-everlasting-dream, @rousetta, @fuckyourgondola, @whiskey-cokenfanfic

[the-closeddoor]

The Perfect Date For The Most Perfect People

Ninjago Pride Week Prompt 2 - Date

(featuring KaixZanexPixal because I am a sucker for that ship)

-------------

Kai was nervous. Actually, nervous didn’t even begin to describe what he was feeling at that moment. This was going to be his first date with Zane and PIXAL, and already he felt like bailing out, going back to the Bounty, and staying in his little cocoon of blankets until the day he died.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like the two, far from it in all honesty. It was that he liked them. Liked liked. He liked how on hot days, Zane would run his cool fingers through Kai’s hair as they sat and watched television. He liked how PIXAL would spar with him (and man, she could knock down every defense he had) when everyone else was unavailable. The list could go on and on, but what he liked the most was their smiles. From PIXAL’s cheeky grin when she beats him in another friendly competition to Zane’s small, yet soft grin as he tries to teach Kai how to bake. Yes, those smiles could melt even the master of fire.

While it was Kai that confessed first to the couple and it was him that made all of the date plans, it was him that was regretting his decision. “What if they’re just doing this because they pity you?” “No, I mean, who wouldn’t want to date the hottest ninja in all of Ninjago?” Kai adjusted the collar on his flannel for the fifth time as he sat on a park bench. “Now you’re just trying to feed your ego. What if everything goes wrong?” “It won’t. I’ve been on many dates before, and besides, this is just a simple picnic lunch.” “And if you mess up, they’ll be unhappy. You won’t see those smiles that you love so much.

He didn’t understand. He cared for the two nindroids so much, yet that was the reason why he wanted to leave. Why? “You’re afraid you’ll mess up. Charisma can only get you so far. Just go before you ruin their day.” No, Kai was going to do this. He mentally pumped himself up, nearly knocking over the picnic basket next to him. “I’m Kai. I am not just a snack, I’m a full course meal! I can do this. I’ve done this before, I can do this. The perfect date for the most perfect people.”

“Kai! There you are.” called a voice.

“……I’m fucked.” thought Kai, as he turned to look at where the sound had come from.

Zane and PIXAL had walked over to where Kai was sitting, hand in hand. Zane was dressed in a light blue polo shirt and shorts while PIXAL had worn a flowy purple dress and a jean jacket to match. Kai felt his face light up once they got to him, both in adoration and in embarrassment over just how….weird he had dressed up for the date. Flannel? What was he thinking? “Just play it cool, Kai. You got this.”

“Hey, Zane. PIXAL. Thank you so much for coming.” Kai said, getting up out of his spot.

Zane beamed and planted a kiss on Kai’s forehead. “Thank you for inviting us. This is a really nice place you picked out.” Kai blushed even more after he registered what Zane did. “Quiet, plenty of flora, not as much trash as there is in the northern area, a large tree for shade, you know where to look.”

PIXAL giggled and intertwined her fingers with Kai’s as he started sputtering. “Ah, of course. I am the date expert after all!” Kai cringed at his choice of wording. “I know exactly where to go and where not to go in order to have the most perfect time.” Kai said that, even though in reality, he just asked Nya, who had recently taken Skylor on a date in almost the exact same location. Of course, the pair didn’t need to know that.

“So, are you two ready to go?”

---------------------------------------------

The date was great. Extra emphasis on the word was. They all had sat under the tree, Kai’s head in Zane’s lap as PIXAL drooped across the titanium ninja’s shoulders. They shared some of the slightly burnt chicken sandwiches he made, they talked about what they’d been doing the past week, and all was going smoothly. Yet, everything had to be cut short.

Now, it wasn’t that Kai made a fool of himself, or that he accidently made one or both of the nindroids mad. No, it was because someone, or rather some people, ended up holding an entire bank hostage and even left a few bombs in there just as a kicker. The other ninja needed backup, so everything had to be put on hold. Kai was not pleased.

As soon as the crooks were thrown in jail and the bombs were disarmed, the two ninja and the samurai sat in the alleyway a little away from the bank, avoiding all contact with the news reporters and police. Now was not the time. A long silence swept through the trio as they waited for the news team and cop cars to leave. After a few minutes, the cars all went away followed by the blaring of sirens. All three let out a sigh of relief, sliding down onto the concrete floor.

“Zane. Kai. Are you two alright?” PIXAL asked. Zane shook his head yes, however, Kai whispered the words “no”. “Hold on, let me check you.” she spoke calmly as she scooted towards him. Checking his body, she noticed a small bloodstain forming from his side area. Moving his Gi, it was then that she saw a large cut was made across his side. Not too deep to cause any panic, but still enough to be concerned about. “Oh dear. Kai, lay down for me, okay? I’m going to keep your head elevated though. Zane, do you have anything to stop the bleeding?”

Kai didn’t focus on what Zane said. Instead, he tried to shake his head no, tried to push PIXAL away, but he was still gently pushed down on his back before PIXAL elevated the upper half of him. This wasn’t how the date was supposed to go. They were going to have lunch, take a walk through the park, maybe even feed the ducks because he saw Zane’s eyes literally light up at the sight of them. Instead, he’s being tended to in an alleyway after getting himself hurt by a crook that should’ve been easy to defeat.

This was, in all honesty, not the best date that Kai could’ve gone on, and it was no one’s fault but his own. “You’re a ninja! You should’ve known that crime has been recently spiking, yet you try to plan a date now?! Smart move, genius.” Kai hissed in pain as he felt something cool be placed on his skin before what felt like cloth wrapped around the wound. What was that?

“I added a small amount of ice onto the cloth before I placed it fully over you.” Said Zane. “This will stop the bleeding for a while, but you will need proper medical treatment.” Kai casted his head downwards, not wanting to look into either of their eyes. They were worried about him, but they didn’t need to be. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He didn’t want to see the people that he liked- no, loved being worried or scared for his health. They were supposed to be happy. This was supposed to be a happy day. “Kai?” Zane snapped him out of his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

When Kai didn’t respond, PIXAL gently took Kai’s hand into her own, bringing his knuckles to her lips and softly kissing them. She looked up at him with worry in her eyes, which twisted the knot in Kai’s stomach and heart even more. “Kai? Please, are you okay? Neither of us want to see you upset. Please.”

Kai wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. Zane shortly followed, trying to keep the master of fire calm. “I’m sorry.” Kai spoke after a few seconds, not wanting another minute of silence. “I just wanted to impress you both. You two are such wonderful and amazing people and I love you guys so much and I just wanted this date to be good and perfect because I wanted to show just how much I care and-“

This was a stark contrast to the man Zane and PIXAL knew. Kai, hot headed, a firework, someone who’s confidence and bravery seemed to have no limit. Now, here he was, on the verge of tears and wrapped around their arms like a small child. PIXAL stroked his hair as Zane lowered his temperature in an attempt to keep Kai warm. “Kai, the date was wonderful. It was simple, yet I know just how much you tried to make it perfect for us. You even tried to do the recipe I’ve been teaching you!” Zane spoke each word with such care that Kai had stopped shaking and began listening.

“He’s right Kai.” said PIXAL. “Everything was okay. Even if there was a change of plans, the date went great. I’m glad you asked us both out. I’m glad that I get to be with you.” The three of them stayed like that for a while, Kai letting their words sink in for a few. Then, all of a sudden, he started laughing. “Kai?” she asked, at first concerned only to be greeted with the joyful grin on Kai’s face.

“Holy crap! I was worrying this entire time that you guys would hate this date!” exclaimed Kai. “I am such an idiot!” He laughed some more, slowly getting up, allowing PIXAL and Zane to do the same. “I’m sorry guys. Really. I can make it up to you both another time, if you want.” He laughed some more, only to clutch his side when a sharp jolt swept through him. Oh, right. They still had to tend to something. Luckily, he had Zane and PIXAL, who were definitely taller than him now that he was up closer to them, as crutches.

“First, we’ll need to head back to the Bounty for the proper equipment needed to fix you up.” said Zane, mirth in his voice.

“And, perhaps afterwards…” PIXAL began. “We can make plans for the next date. Preferably when are schedules are a little more free.”

“Yeah. That would be nice.”

-----------------------

(short? yes. cheesy? yes. ooc? maybe a little bit. still a nice ship tho and i’m going down with it)

[scullystorm]

distracted study date - marshfield

This might not be what you wanted, and it’s been a couple of years since I last wrote any characters from LIS so if it’s a little OOC I apologize, but I hope you still enjoy this! 

I WELCOME MORE PROMPTS! 

A slightly freckled index finger trailed over numerous bullet points, each pertaining to a new question, “‘What Gothic elements contributed to Jane Eyre?’” Max gave a chuckle, “Well this one’s an easy one, Kate.”

A long pause of silence occurred that had the short-haired girl tear her eyes away from their worksheet and look up.

“Kate?”

Kate, ever the diligent worker, was no longer following along in their English class paper assignment, but staring out of Max’s dorm window. Her thick medium length hair, that usually was in the style of a Gibson top bun, now cascaded down her back and chest. Kate had told Max she wanted to start fresh, make changes, and Max secretly adored the new look. 

‘Starting fresh’ wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Kate would randomly go silent in the middle of conversations and fumble over words that caused her pale cheeks to bloom red in embarrassment but Max, with one glare, promised consequences to those who would dare laugh. 

“Earth to Kate?” Max reached out and gently placed her hand over the other girls. 

Kate jerked her gaze away from the window and looked in alarm back at Max. 

“Are you al-”

“It’s raining.”

Max took her hand back and turned her head to look outside. Raindrops could be heard tapping against the glass and a low rumble echoed in the distance. 

“This is the first rainstorm we’ve had since my incident.” 

Recovery was Kate’s first and only priority since leaving the hospital a week ago and she worked very closely with her therapist and family in getting over her trauma but around friends she was very careful in what she shared. Max was, to her knowledge, the only one that Kate dared to actually share her feelings with and there wasn’t a day that went by that she didn’t stop feeling honored and loved by her kind-hearted and sweet friend. 

Max bit her lip, looking back to Kate, “It is. Do you want to stop for today? I can put on Pride and Prejudice, the Colin Firth edition, and make some popcorn.” 

Kate’s mouth stretched, a broad and equally beautiful smile gracing her face, “No, but I think I would like to take a walk outside with a friend.” 

Kate and Max placed their worksheets on to her computer desk and stood up. 

“I only have one umbrella.” Max shyly admitted, like not having more than one was a travesty. 

Kate grinned, “We won’t be needing one at all.”

“What? I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

Kate grabbed Max by the hand and tugged, lacing their fingers tightly together and leading her quickly out the dorm and down the hall. Max laughed at the implication. 

“If you get sick, I’m not making you chicken soup!”

Kate spun around and kissed Max on the cheek. “You mean if we get sick.” 

Max blushed and tried to cover it up by rolling her eyes and giving a huff of false annoyance, “Okay, Ms. Marsh, if we get sick I’m not making either one of us soup!’ 

Kate reached back and pulled Max’s grey hoodie up to cover her head and then kissed her swiftly on the mouth. 

“Then that’s a cross I’m willing to bear.”

Max touched her lips with shaky fingers and then-

“Did you really just utter that phrase to me!?”

Kate’s answer was silence as she raced on ahead and out into her ‘fresh start’. 

[schtroumpf-a-lunettes]

under cut because long!!! this is roughly a discussion of like, children’s media (or something propped up as children’s media/parodying a kid’s show) being depicted with grimdark and/or mature content or w/e. I both agree that these ideas are often completely unoriginal and boring and stuff and bad. but also it can be done right and have plenty of merits. and in saying that, that’s not what my fic is trying to do as well though

I think I’m edging (relatively) closer to looking like a little bit of a hypocrite if I agree with the notion that portraying characters from children’s media in dark situations tends to be boring/unoriginal/edgy and I don’t know how to, fully express how much that I... well for one thing that’s not.. what I ever really want to go for. many of those kinds of portrayals are generally irreverent, wildly OOC, edgy for the sake of being edgy, purely for shock value. Sometimes the person doing it doesn’t rly know anything about the source material beyond the most basic surface level, and it furthermore can be boring if it doesn’t offer any meaningful commentary. ofc those things don’t usually intend to offer meaningful commentary, they just want the shock value of something like “haha the SMURFS but VIOLENCE/ADULT CONTENT, wild right???”, and they achieve that very basic goal, and it can be boring. it doesn’t tell us anything, it’s just, shock value and that’s it.

Ok I mean... it DEPENDS, sometimes (plenty of times) I actually find the Subverted Kids Show trope incredibly enjoyable, but like, hm. some ways of going about it are more tasteful than others. I guess part of that is personal preference though I do think there is a small amount of objective guidelines involved too

and you can still make insightful commentary on a text aimed at children through a Subverted Kids Show Format while having the characters be ooc! Robot Chicken smurfs (which I will discuss more in other posts) for me oscillates between making a surprisingly good commentary sometimes and mindless (but fun(ny)) scenes to, very tasteless/bad scenes that don’t do much imo. well its goal is to be funny and that’s it I guess, and it hits that goal some of the time

I guess the exact opposite of the surface-level shock value joke can also be super boring though. a text/theory that takes itself super seriously and tries to explain to you how Actually This Kid’s Show Dark! can possibly be even worse. e.g. “characters in kids show are just trapped in purgatory/it’s all a coma fantasy!!” or whatever. But I think, part of what would make a thing like that Bad is a fundamental misunderstanding of core parts of the canon and/or a... lack of regard for canon in the sense that you’re really willing to sit here and write of everything that the characters have ever been through as being Meaningless because it was all just one character’s dying memories? that completely robs the text of its power. Like saying Homer’s been in a coma since like season 5 of the simpsons. As a certain podcaster that won’t be named said because I have, a lot of bones to pick with them lol - there’s something so redundant and pointless about saying “everything that’s happening in this fictional show isn’t real”. what does it realistically.. add, kinda thing.

But I don’t think there’s cause to be automatically dismissive of anything that tries to.. approach children’s media from an angle where you can construct it as being just a little bit more sombre than it looks like on the surface or something? idk. because there can be worthwhile things to explore that make interesting commentary on the text, where you NEED to introduce less-than-happy concepts to derive them. (Sometimes the kind of commentary that deconstructions try to make is, not so good and misses the mark, although it’s not always the case.) there’s one argument against this which is like, Why can’t you just let kids have things? It’s not that deep. You’re trying to put a sinister spin on something when... it’s just not necessary. Why add to the darkness of the world. let people, especially kids, just have this bright and pure thing.

And I completely agree with that sentiment, honestly. The smurfs are good, happy, innocent, that’s the way they are and should be, don’t try to take that away from kids or people. Like 80%-90% of my enjoyment of the smurfs is all about that, I’m in full agreement, I just want happy little innocent elf society adventures and I’ll be happy. Although. It’s not like smurfs was always happy. there are plenty of tearjerker moments in the show, plenty of disasters and bad things happen to them (that they readily overcome by the end of the episode). and here I guess you also have to avoid patronising kids in thinking that only happy and nice stuff can be for them. as in, the smurfs does have really sad and upsetting moments but that Obviously doesn’t make it Not For Kids.

I think that in addition to that, slightly darker themes can be explored and exposed under certain extreme circumstances if smurf society was subject to it. And I think this in no way invalidates their tranquil, happy status quo and good nature as a society as we know it. Also it just so happens that my inspiration for fic happened to revolve around negative ideas instead of positive despite me, in fandom, just enjoying the positive/light-hearted usually (I think?). whoops. but these kinds of outside-of-canon things don’t do anything to the canon, canon stands as it is. I try my best to stick as close to canon as possible kind of, as a kind of canon purist, haha, in terms of characters and realistic reactions.

another thing is, for a positive kid show like smurfs, to have something really bad happen might seem off, but, one of the things I want(ed) to explore is “if x thing happened, how would the characters deal with it?” (I think this point will be, more pertinent to the next smurfs fic I have lined up once I finish the current one I’m working on. heh, heh, heh.)

I mean really bad stuff happened in the cartoon but it was never too extreme and it was resolved by the end of the episode normally. so for something long-term... yeah.

I also think occasionally I’ve done like. stupid smurf stuff that is kinda ooc over the years. and part of why is I think something happened where I was so anti-doing that that it kind of looped back around to the point where I Did it because, of course, I acknowledge how far-removed from canon it is that it therefore doesn’t mean anything, or something like that. and It Amused Me. and sometimes shock value smurfs at least done Somewhat tastefully is amusing to me too for that same reason because (if) it’s harmless fun or something

now this whole thing I’ve written up is mostly general thoughts and not actually much related to my fic. just, writing the fic has got me thinking about this kind of stuff so some of it is vaguely related. But fundamentally I don’t want my fic to be super dark. in fact, there are many very dark storyline paths that I could have taken which I actively chose not to, because those paths were not what I wanted this story to do. I just want it to be a fic where the smurfs experience a lot of hardship that they struggle to overcome, and I want to keep it very closely aligned to canon where I can, while other stuff changes, with.. time. Like yea there are definitely some dark elements though haha. But I’ve read some dark smurfs fic and haha.. don’t think mine really shapes up.

Like this whole post might sound like me being defensive or something, but it’s not because the premise of my fic isn’t “Edgy Grimdark Smurfs” or anything like that, and therefore that’s not a concept that I need to defend for my fic. and I don’t need to be on any kind of defense because nothing anyone else has said has prompted this post, haha. I didn’t set out to write Dark smurfs fic, I set out with an idea of some challenges the village could face and followed through with how I thought the village and its inhabitants would/could react to them, or some of the possible ways the village could react to them. And IF the results turn less-than-smurfy, I still follow up on them if I think it is realistic to the canon for it to happen and an interesting path to explore. Like I’m not really taking the world and adding/forcing dark elements in, I’m bringing out underlying currents that I already saw present when observing the society in the cartoon. Maybe I added some stuff to flesh things out, but the core ideas I bring out have basis in the cartoon imo. Anyway yeah like 70% of this post isn’t related to my fic, just kinda general thoughts type thing as I said lol.

Oh yeah also it’s like - I want my fic to still remain mostly in-tune with the show, I want to do my best with that. I don’t want darkness-induced apathy or for it to feel like it’s too far out of line from what is plausible. in-tune with the universe and the characters, but exploring stuff you wouldn’t necessarily pitch to young children at the same time type thing. And I’m not going out of my way to do that, moreso I’m not imposing that restriction on myself in terms of what I write. I’m tryin’ my best, haha. like, setting out to write grimdark fic is fine, but it possibly requires a different audience and authorial approach compared to what I feel is the approach I want to encourage for my fic. both approaches and writing styles are valid, just different type thing. I’d hate to turn people away if they’re not into grimdark stuff when it’s not what I was going for or w/e