#and he stayed there late after they closed so that I could come back and get it lmao

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Virgin! Jason Todd

Virgin! Jason Todd who is absolutely whipped as soon as he meets you. Im talking stuttering, fumbling over himself, even a slight blush, dare I say. He just doesn't know what to do with himself in the presence of somebody so blessed with a goddess' beauty.

Virgin! Jason Todd who tries to act tough anyway (because, in all honesty, he is literally a murderer and not just some soft guy anymore.) And fails horribly. Its endearing to see him try, though... With those strong arms that could either snap you in half within moments or hold you throughout the night.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's constantly needy for you, both in an intimate sense and just for affection in general. In fact, you don't think that there's ever an extended period of time where his hands aren't on you in one way or another.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's so into dry humping that it's an every other days occurance. Laying down on the couch or bed cuddling? His hard dick is pressing right up against your clit through both his and your shorts. Doing yoga because your back is sore from work or cooking dinner when he gets home late? He's lightly thrusting onto your plump ass as soon as he gets his hands on you.

Virgin! Jason Todd who initiates things himself for the first time, starting with you simply sitting on his lap while watching a movie. Then, slowly, he starts kissing down your neck with warm lips and even warmer breaths while moving you to straddle his thighs. You can already feel him getting a bit hard from this alone.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets so into the light kisses he oh so graciously presses against your lips that they end up turning into a heavy make out session. His tongue and yours are tangling together in such a sinful and addicting way that its hard to get enough.

Virgin! Jason Todd who slowly grasps at your hips to grind you at a torturous pace on his toned thigh. The slight amount of friction is divine after getting so worked up over a few kisses, but it's not long until you're humping his thigh like a bitch in heat as you normally do.

Virgin! Jason Todd who's never been afraid to eat you out, and he'll be damned if he doesn't tonight, too. You are his favorite meal, snack, and dessert, after all.

"Come on, gorgeous... You know the drill." He whispers in that deep, gravelly voice from between your legs as you close them, desperately wanting to do something for him in return. "Nuh uh... Let me eat that pretty pussy of yours before anything else, sweetness." And eat he does.

Virgin! Jason Todd who gets off on your pleasure. Every time you moan or squirm yourself closer to his face as he laps at your aching hole and bundle of nerves, he grinds himself right into the mattress or side of the couch.

Virgin! Jason Todd who wants you to ride him for your first time together so he can bury his face into your chest and hold you as close as possible. And because he's scared of going at a pace that you won't like, but after how many orgasms he's pulled out of you just by giving you head, you're sure you wouldn't mind whatever makes him happy.

Virgin! Jason Todd who has to actually stop himself from blowing his load just as you put his girthy tip in. He just cant help it... Your tight, warm, and soaked walls fluttering around him is just too heavenly.

"Fuck... Stay right there, sweetheart. Right there. Please." His voice is strained with his effort and slightly muffled as he buries his face into your chest.

Virgin! Jason Todd who is in pure bliss as soon as you start moving, even at such a slow pace to begin with while your creamy walls get used to the stretch of his beautiful, leaking cock.

Virgin! Jason Todd who never realized how much of a moaner he was until he got to have his first time with you. Sure, he's gotten himself off humping your ass or the mattress while he ate you out, but this was on a whole other level.

"Fuckkk..." His head is thrown back against the pillows or headrest of the couch as his hands grasp your ever moving hips. "Can't take much more of this, pretty girl." Jason is almost whining at this point, the sound of his skin slapping against yours joining the obscene sounds in the air of his apartment. "Gonna.. Im gonna-"

Virgin! Jason Todd who cuts himself off with such a gorgeous moan and whine as he cums that it has you going right alongside him. The large, calloused hands on your hips only tighten as you feel his cock fill you up with thick, warm, pearly ropes of cum.

Virgin! Jason Todd who can only whisper praises and words of love for the first couple of minutes coming down from his intense high.

"Fuck... Fucking love you, y'know that?" His chest is still heaving with every panting breath he takes. "Milking me dry with that pretty pussy..."

Virgin! Jason Todd who makes aftercare a top priority very early on, even though he's just barely gaining his own bearings.

"I love you, pretty girl... So much." He presses kisses along your sore and achy thighs as the cool, damp washcloth brushes over your most sensitive and overstimulated parts.

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

Masterlist

[featherandferns]

sugar (fic)

ex!jj maybank x ex!fem!reader | set in season 4 without the Blackbeard mystery! (non-canon) | inspiration

content warnings: mentions of/references to sex (m and f receiving; MDNI); drug use; unfaithful relationships

word count: 18k.

blurb: JJ comes back into your life - older, richer and different again from before. Can the past stay the past, and the two of you be friends, or is there too much history there to let it all lie?

Cinnamon Buns

“Where would you like these?” Someone calls out to you. You turn and take in the tray of mouth-wateringly delicious looking cinnamon buns that a volunteer holds. Smiling, you point to a far table on the grassy field. 

“Anywhere over there is good! Those look amazing, thank you so much!” 

You turn back to the task at hand: organising cans of tinned, chopped tomatoes. To your left is a stack of bags of rice and to your right, bags of pasta. It’s quick work as you separate them by flavour: garlic and herb; chilli; regular…In the background you overhear chatter of fellow volunteers. Where should I put this? Who had the plastic bags? This was your happy place. 

‘The Stirring Spoon’ is what you had called it. It was your passion project born out of daydreams. A collaborative, community effort, providing food to anybody and everybody, free of charge. It wasn’t a traditional food drive. Instead, it was like a potluck dinner that you hosted every Wednesday in the late afternoon, running into the evening. People brought whatever dish they had prepared, or any ingredients that they had going spare which you and a handful of other volunteers whipped up into mains and desserts. Tomato soup and lentil curry and meatball subs and rainbow brownies and chocolate chip cookies. You’d even managed to rope a few local establishments into it. Any leftover bakes that they had when the workday was over, or things that were just a smidge out of date by a day or two, you took and offered out. Today? Cinnamon buns that were baked yesterday at a humble cafe in the town centre, just shy of Figure Eight. Food health and safety laws were strict but you could stretch them for The Stirring Spoon. After all, you weren’t technically selling a product so no harm done. People were clued in about the supposed “risk”. 

You lift up a can of tomatoes and study the ‘best by’ date on the metal lid. A month in the safe zone. Perfect. As your mind flicks through recipes of what you could cook up, a voice stood out amongst the chatter nearby. It was like a siren’s call; distinct and damning. You could pick it out even when deaf. 

“I gotta delivery here for y’all.”

“What’s in it?”

“Fresh sorta stuff. ‘Tatoes and that kinda thing.”

“Over there, I’d say.”

As the footsteps approach you can feel your heartbeat quicken. It taps nervously in your ribcage like you’re sixteen all over again. Your focus remains on the task at hand until a slight shadow casts over you, and you know you can’t stall any longer.  Your hands freeze over a can of tomatoes. Looking up, standing in front of you, clear as daylight and bright as dawn, is JJ Maybank. He’s dressed in his usual attire of a worn-down t-shirt and shorts; his fingers and wrists decorated with metal rings and beaded bracelets. If you squinted, it’d be like no time had passed at all. He doesn’t look all that different from the last time you saw him and yet, he’s entirely changed. In his hands is a large cardboard crate of various fresh produce. You smile. 

“JJ.”

It comes out in a breath as though you’re seeing something supernatural before you. In a way, you are. How long has it been now? Two years? Nearly three?

His own surprise mirrors yours on his face. But JJ was always better at hiding his emotions, once he had a chance to catch them. It was like a teasing glimpse before he closed the curtains. His recovery is quick as a smile starts to show, and he says your name like he’s practised it everyday. 

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

“Brought some deliveries,” JJ says, hitching the box. “Kiara mentioned something ‘bout a community kitchen drive y’all do and we thought we could contribute and stuff.”

“Well, that’s nice of y’all. Thank you,” you reply. 

You shuffle some stuff out of the way on the pop-up table in front of you to make space for JJ’s box. It’s hard not to watch his arms as he lowers it down, the way the biceps flex and tense beneath the skin. It’s hard not to think of other times his arms have looked that way, wrapped around your body, tugging you closer. You blink the memories away. 

JJ’s hands slot into his short pockets. He rocks on his feet. “Looks like it’s a pretty popular thing, huh?v This food drive, I mean.”

You glance around at the bustling volunteers. Smiling, you say, “Yeah, I guess it caught on pretty quick. Could say the same about y’alls tackle-and-bait shop you got going. It’s the talk of the town ‘round here.”

JJ grins with visible pride and it isn’t until you see it that you realise how much you missed his smile. You wonder if he’s surveying your face and body the way you are his, as if looking for some inconsistency or change since the last time you saw him. 

“Yeah, it’s coming together pretty nice. Helps having a bunch of us working on it, though.”

“I bet,” you say. You’d heard the chatter on the island about the Pogue’s latest venture. The sneers of the kooks and the curiosity of the locals. Their bets and wagers on whether the business would sink or float. You’d wanted to wander down and check it out for yourself but you always chickened out. Truth was, you’d been avoiding JJ Maybank like the flu, and now here he was in front of you, putting all your quarantining to shame. Your eyes flit down at the crate and you gently rifle through the food for a distraction. Tomatoes and potatoes and bunches of fresh berries and fruit. 

“I, uh, don’t know if there’s much in there that y’all need but–”

“No, no, this is great,” you assure him, smiling. “It’s really generous of y’all. Every contribution is appreciated.”

“Happy to help. To be honest, it’s Kie and Sarah you should be thanking.”

“Yeah, I didn’t peg you as the gardening type,” you tease. 

“Well, only for the stuff that matters,” JJ grins with a wink. You consciously try to fight away the warmth running to your cheeks. Damn it, you weren’t sixteen anymore. “So…how have you been, then? Since we last…y’know–”

“Baby!”

It’s a reflex reaction to turn at the sound of Mark’s call. He comes bounding over with a wide grin. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and flour is dusted on his khakis. It’s a reflex to close your eyes when he dips his head to plant a kiss to your lips, too. You rub them together after as you prepare yourself for what might be the most awkward interaction you’ll ever go through. 

“JJ,” you say, turning to the blonde haired boy. “This is Mark. Mark, this is JJ. We used to…uh…Well, we used to hang out.”

“JJ - pleasure,” Mark says sincerely. He sticks out his hand and for a painful moment you genuinely worry that JJ might never take it. But he does, shaking it. 

“Likewise,” he says. 

You feel Mark’s spare arm slide around your back, his palm placing itself respectfully on your side. That was Mark: respectful. Righteous but not in an arrogant way. He was kind and caring without judgement, like the sort of Christian boy your nana would want you to bring home. The sort of guy who would bring your mother flowers and play golf with your father on the weekends. The kind of face you’d see flash on the television during the six o’clock news as the reporter relays a daring and heroic tale of saving orphaned kittens from a burning tree. 

“This is the guy that’s started the tackle-and-bait shop. Y’know, the one with the surf store and stuff,” you say to Mark. Realisation dawns upon Mark and he wags his finger at JJ. 

“Wait, wait, JJ as in JJ Maybank? One of the gang who found El Dorado?” 

You roll your eyes at the pure awe in his voice. JJ chuckles somewhat nervously and nods as he says, “yeah, uh, that JJ, I guess.”

“Holy shit! Baby, why didn’t you say!? Oh man, I read all about that. It sounded freaking incredible! I have so much to ask you, I mean-”

You place a hand to his chest and laugh, slightly embarrassed by his fangirling. “Baby, baby! Cool it a second, yeah?”

Laughing, you glance at JJ. And you catch it. That emotion he lets slip just before correcting himself. His eyes dart to yours in a second but they were looking elsewhere before. They were looking at your hand on Mark’s stomach. 

“Nah man, it’s cool. You guys should stop by sometime and I can tell you all about it. The other Pogues too, yeah,” JJ cordially replies. 

“Oh sick, man. That’d be great,” Mark beams. You smile at JJ and nod. 

“I’d love to see what you guys have done to the place,” you tell him. JJ smiles but it falters, like a flickering lightbulb that’s fighting to stay on. An awkward quiet passes and you clear your throat and glance around at the voluntary effort. “Well, I should probably get back to work.”

“No, yeah, course. I ought’a get back to the shop,” JJ replies. 

“Thanks for the stuff though. We really appreciate it.”

“You brought this?” Mark wonders, picking a strawberry out of the crate. He pops it in his mouth and hums happily. “Damn, those are some fresh strawberries.”

“Yeah, man. All from our local garden we got going.”

“This place sounds like the dream,” Mark tells you. You smile up at him. He takes the crate in his broad hands and lifts it easily into the air. Being sandwiched between two toned-up guys had you feeling as brittle as candyfloss. “I’ll take this over to Nancy. Nice meeting you, JJ.”

“Yeah, you too, man.”

You watch him wander off a moment before turning back to JJ. He offers you another smile. “I’ll come check out the shop soon,” you promise. 

JJ points at you, playfully warning, “you better!” before walking away. You watch him with every step he takes and the moment he’s out of sight your head drops. You let out a breath that you didn’t know you’d been holding. Your entire body feels as though it’s vibrating; your heart running laps in your ribcage. And the funniest part of all is the strange thought that races around your mind, he’s real. It had been so long since you’d seen JJ, let alone heard from him, that it felt like a daydream. The memories were so hazy now that they’d been painted over in sepia and you wondered if you’d imagined the whole thing. But no, here he was, knowing you and recognising you, and talking to you. The two of you back in Kildare, seemingly for good. 

“Baby! Can you give us a hand?”

The call drags you out of your thoughts. Your eyes fall onto your boyfriend. He stands a good head taller than most people. He’s almost lanky in build but not ungainly; broad shouldered and slim nosed. His eyes are those of an otter: nearly black with how brown they are; beady and shining, even from over here. There’s a smattering of freckles over his cheeks which is adorably boyish in contrast to his stubble on the jawline. He’s smiling at you in a way that all girls want to be smiled at. Unashamed in his admiration for you. It grounds you from the dizzying interaction with JJ and you walk over to him, ready to help out in any way you can. 

The rest of The Stirring Spoon passes without a hitch or unexpected visitor from the past. It’s as popular as always, with locals and tourists stopping by. The lentil and tomato soup that you whipped up disappears within the first half hour, alongside the nearly stale but still delicious cheese bread. Mark stands by your side the whole time, smiling as he serves. He whispers little jokes in your ear that have you giggling in the quiet periods of the food drive. Then came the evening rush, with people stopping by after work. The culmination of it all meant JJ was pushed out of your thoughts and back into the long-term store, where he’d been haunting before. That is, until you’re tidying up. 

“That JJ guy seemed nice,” Mark says from the table to your right. You look up from the plastic snack-bags you’re tidying away. “You said you guys used to hang?”

“When we were sixteen,” you reply. 

“How come you stopped hanging out?” he wonders. 

You look down at the bags and obsess over the colours of the labels as you debate how best to word your reply. What do you divulge to him? There’s an index of memories labelled JJ and you know not all need to see the light of day, let alone enter the mind of your boyfriend in scarring reenactments. 

“We just grew apart. He was going through some stuff, I think, and then he got really into that whole treasure hunting thing,” you tell him. It was true enough to not be a lie. Mark hums in thought. 

“That’s a shame.”

You quirk a brow, amused. “Why? Cause I could have cashed in on the gold too?”

Mark shrugs and you laugh. “What!? I’m just saying, some people are worth staying friends with!”

But that was the thing. You and JJ weren’t just friends. Shaking your head, you close the cardboard box of repacked snack-bags and carry it over to the table where he’s working. You held him wrap individual muffins in napkins before placing them in a large tupperware box. 

“Hey, y’know what’d be nice?” Mark says. 

“What?”

“If we took them over some leftovers. I mean, we made most of this stuff with the ingredients they gave us anyway. And there’s still some of those cinnamon buns going spare.”

You take pause and look up at him. He’s obliviously working away, head tucked down to look at the muffins. There’s an easy smile that’s permanently etched into his face, as if he came out the womb cheesing away. That wasn’t why you fell for him though. No, it was his kindness. His offhand generosity that came so naturally to him it was almost offensive. Pressing up onto your toes, you cup his jaw and press a kiss to his cheek. He chuckles quietly. 

“You’re wonderful,” you hum happily. “I think that’s a great idea.” 

“You go wrap up some cinnamon buns then. I’ll pack up some of these muffins for them.”

You do as he asks and soon enough, there’s a box of miscellaneous leftovers from your food drive. Mark drives. The sky is a delicate colour of amber and pink warning of soon nightfall. Colours like that always make you feel relaxed. It helps ease the nervousness of seeing JJ again. You weren’t sure why it was making you so antsy. It wasn’t as if you and JJ parted ways on bad terms. You suppose it’s just a bitter-sweet memory. All memories of JJ came with that sour coating now, like sherbet lemons on your tongue. You wonder if you’d feel the same way if Mark weren’t around. 

But he is, and you’re glad he is. 

Looking over to him, you reach out your hand to capture his, resting on his thigh. He glances over at you and smiles. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just happy, s’all.”

“That’s good,” he says, looking back to the road. Like something from a music video, he raises your interlocked hands to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Means I’m doing something right, if you’re happy.”

It’s impossible not to do a double-take as you pull up to what was formally the Maybank property. It’s as if new life has been breathed into it. More than just a lick of paint, there’s two brand new buildings alongside a pretty sturdy looking pier and dock. There’s a handmade charm to everything that makes it all the more enticing and impressive. Mark seems to think so too because he whistles as the two of you pull up the driveway. You look to your left and see the Twinkie. A relic from your past, of memories half-naked, rolling around the back with JJ, sharing a blunt in a post-orgasmic haze. Your thoughts shut off with the engine. 

Mark takes the lead, his hand in yours, and carries the box of leftovers up to the house. You both wander up the porch and Mark knocks twice on the door. Your eyes look at everything, taking it in, admiring every detail, until someone opens the door. It’s Kiara. 

“Hey. Can I help you?” she asks your monolith of a boyfriend. You poke your head from around his body. 

“Hey Kie.”

“Oh my Gosh! Girl, where have you been?” Kie beams. The two of you embrace, laughing and smiling. “Wait - did you get the stuff I sent JJ over with?”

“Yeah, we did,” you say. “Thank you so much.”

“We actually brought this as a thanks,” Mark adds, offering out the tub. She eyes him almost with suspicion. 

“Sorry, I forgot to say - Kie, this is Mark. My boyfriend,” you explain. Kie’s eyebrows shoot up with that final word but she recovers quick. 

“Nice to meet you, Mark,” she says. She takes the box and glances through the plastic. 

“Just some leftovers we thought you might like. Muffins and cinnamon buns and things like that.”

“Thanks guys, you didn’t have to. We’re happy to contribute,” Kiara tells you. “In fact, me and Sarah were talking about maybe making it a regular thing. Like every Wednesday we bring some stuff from the garden, or fish that we’ve caught?”

“Oh my God, yeah, that’d be amazing,” you nod enthusiastically. “We can definitely figure out a system.”

“Perfect. I’ll put these inside. You guys want a drink or anything? I can show you around,” Kiara offers, opening the door wider in invitation. 

You glance over her shoulder into the room and then around the porch, behind you out to the water. You’re not sure why you were expecting JJ to just appear out of thin air in front of you. 

“JJ’s out on the dock, if you want to catch up,” Kiara posits, as if hearing your thoughts. You look at her and hold her gaze, and - unable to read what her expression means - nod. 

“I think I’ll go say hi. We didn’t get a chance to properly catch up,” you reply. You glance up at Mark. “You want to come with?”

“It’s alright. I’ll stay here and get the tour,” he tells you with a wink. You smile, press a kiss to his lips, and wander off with a wave to Kie, towards the dock. 

Feet thudding on the slabs of wood, the structure creaks as you walk to the shop. An American flag waves in the breeze. You run a hand along the thick rope bannister and glance down into the growth of plants and water weeds underfoot. I can’t believe they built all of this, you can’t help but think as you walk up to the wooden-slatted tackle-and-bait shop. As you walk into the store under the wooden ‘WELCOME’ sign, reggae music blesses your ears alongside the smell of incense. It’s jam-packed with miscellaneous water accessories: fishing gear, surfing gear, refreshments, you name it. There’s nobody behind the counter. You glance around and squint, catching onto a spot red through the window. JJ lies outside atop of a vintage cooler, feet crossed one over the other, arms tucked under his head. You can’t help but smile. Walking outside, you lean against the doorframe and fold your arms over your chest. 

“Well, as far as customer service goes, this is pretty crappy.”

He snaps up to sit like he has the joints of a ken doll. You laugh as he blinks his eyes awake, laying them on you. 

“Oh shit,” he says, clearing his throat, running a hand through his hair. “When’d you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. You looked pretty comfy there,” you say, amused. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a good nap spot,” JJ chuckles nervously, glancing down at where he just lay his head. He straightens his t-shirt and then looks back at you. His brows furrow. “Wait, what’re you doing here?”

“Came by to see the new place,” you reply, gesturing around you. “You offered.”

“Didn’t think you’d be in such a hurry.”

“No time like the present and all that.”

You’re acutely aware of how you’re avoiding mentioning Mark and how he’s currently being led around JJ’s former house and yard under Kie’s tow. 

“This is a pretty sick set-up,” you praise. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty good, huh?” JJ grins, getting to his feet. “Here, you want a beer? We’re technically closed for business anyway.”

Laughing, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.” 

Cracking open the cooler, he reaches in and retrieves two ice-cold cans. One is tossed to you and you catch it, and a feeling of deja vu rings through you. JJ, younger, just as handsome, throwing you a can of beer at a kegger. He leans against the cooler and you against a wooden pillar. Cracking cans and the fizz of beer, and you take a refreshing sip. A comfortable quiet comes and the two of you catch one anothers eyes. You smile. 

“I don’t think I said earlier, but it’s really nice to see you again,” you tell JJ. 

He smiles, small and reserved. “Thanks. It’s nice seeing you too. Even if it is with Joe America over there.”

“Joe America?” you snort. “Come on, he isn’t that bad.”

“No, no, he seems…uh, he seems nice.”

“He is nice.”

“I believe it.”

“Well…good.”

That marked the end of that conversation. You take a sip of your beer and sigh, looking out to the view of sunset over the marshland. 

“I wish you could’ve seen it,” JJ suddenly says. You look over to him with a frown, confused. “El Dorado, I mean. South America. It was beautiful. Like actually fucking stunning out there.”

“Really?” you say, smiling. 

“Hell yeah,” he grins. “Like there was colours out there that I didn’t even think existed without, like, LSD, man.”

You laugh and he does too and you’re glad whatever awkwardness that just came passed quick like a seastorm. 

“I still haven’t gone farther than Charleston, so I guess I’ll have to live vicariously,” you lightheartedly remark. 

“Yeah, well, turns out there’s a pretty big world out there,” JJ grins. 

“Glad one of us got to see it,” you hum. 

“Nah, you’ll see it too. All of it. Even Paris.”

The city’s name hangs heavy in the air. It was more than just a throwaway comment. It was a secret message, as if JJ was speaking in code. I remember it. I didn’t forget. You wash down the adrenaline with another sip of beer. 

“But no place like home, huh?” JJ says, clearing his throat. 

“Probably helps now that John B ain’t a fugitive anymore,” you muse. JJ laughs, nodding. 

“Yeah, yeah, no, for sure.”

“Well, I’m glad you found your happiness, JJ,” you say, smiling at him. “I’m glad you found yourself out.”

“Ain’t we all?”

The two of you watch one another for a moment. His resting smile lingers on the edges of his thin lips. His round, soft cheeks that add to a boyishness about him that his jawline doesn’t allow. You always liked JJ’s hair though. A mop of blonde planted atop of his head with sun-bleached highlights and deep-sea lowlights. But he’s taking you in too. You can’t take the weight of his stare after a while. Taking a deep breath, pushing away from the beam, you ditch your half-drunk beer atop of the cooler. 

“Well, I better get going.”

“You sure? I mean, we can hang out a bit longer, if you like?”

You smile politely and shake your head. “I’m not the one driving, so…”

JJ looks over your shoulder and spots Mark. “Ah. Didn’t know Dollar Store Chris Evans was here, my bad.”

“JJ! Don’t be mean!”

“I ain’t being mean! If anything, that’s a compliment,” JJ defends. You roll your eyes. “Look, I’ll see you around though. It’d suck to go back to being strangers again when we’re both in the same place for a change.”

Despite the innocence of the offer, something in your gut tells you that you shouldn’t agree. You should set a boundary there, draw a line, and leave it in the past. So, really, you have nobody to blame but yourself for saying “I’d like that” with a smile in farewell, before walking back across the dock to your boyfriend. 

Salted Chips

JJ had always been in your life. However, in the past, he was more of a background character, like an NPC in a videogame that creators constantly add in like an Easter Egg. The kind of character you’re curious about, in terms of their past and their present, their wants and their fears, but the kind you never have the privy to get close to in that way. He’d be at parties, at the surf break, at the shops or at school, but he wasn’t in your life. Until he was. 

Fate came in the form of a seating plan for history class. 

You and JJ were classmates. Table buddies. At first, the conversation was nonexistent. Sometimes JJ wouldn’t show up to class at all, either bunking off or playing truant in the bathrooms to light up a joint. But sometimes he’d come to class, usually escorted by Pope, and you’d share an uncomfortable silence as you worked through the hour. But then came an assignment that needed to be done out of class, and numbers were exchanged and words were shared outside of ‘what did he say’ and ‘what’s the homework’ and ‘what answer did you get for five?’. At your prompting to start on the project, JJ offered up the Chateau to work at, John B’s house that was a renovated fishing shack on the marsh. 

To stimulate inspiration for the poster the two of you had to create - outlining the history of the American Civil War - JJ had offered up beers and a blunt, and you were glad to take him up on the offer. If you’re going to be doing schoolwork at the weekend, you might as well get something out of it other than mind numbing boredness. It seems you saying yes to JJ’s “gifts” put you in his good books. It’s as if you could see the moment his opinion of you changed. From there, it was as if the two of you had always known the other. Conversation came easy, banter even more so. Time spent together stretched outside of the classroom and instead into lunch breaks and evenings and weekends. He’d seek you out at keggers and hang with you at the beach. Somewhere in the roots of you friendship grew an attraction from the fondness. You noticed it in his lingering glances, his drifting gaze from your eyes to your mouth to your body. Later, you heard it in his words, finding innuendos in smalltalk, catching compliments like falling stars. Eventually, both slightly intoxicated, it came to a head, about three months into this natural-forming friendship. 

“Yo!”

You turn around, beer in hand, startled by the interruption. It’s JJ. He’s wearing a cap, squishing down his beautiful locks of blonde; the muted green pairs well with his t-shirt. His combat boots sink into the ground, damp from the rainfall earlier in the day. Everything smells piney and fresh. You lift a finger to your lips to coax him to be quiet. His brows quirk up, a bemused smile gracing his gorgeous face. God really does have favourites, it seems. 

“You good?”

“Sh! You’ll scare them,” you whisper. At his cocking head, confused, you fervently gesture for him to come over. He does. His presence by your side is almost overwhelming. The buzz from the liquor makes it difficult to keep your itching hands to yourself and your inhibitions at bay. “You see them?”

“See what?”

“The birds.”

“What?”

“Look, here,” you mumble. You lean close to him so you can point clearly with your finger, just along his line of vision. A whiff of JJ’s scent dusts your nose. He’s warm like he creates heat. Through the canopy of leaves, you can make out a single branch of a tree. In the nook, against the trunk, is a nest, and inside is a bunch of baby birds, cawing out for their mother, hungry, blind. You’d left them some salted chips on the floor, crumbled and scattered, in case the mother wanted to steal some to take up and gift. She probably wouldn’t, but something about their cries made you feel the need to do something, and it wasn’t as if you could offer up your beer. 

“Woah.”

“You see ‘em?”

“Yeah,” JJ breathes. “That’s sick, how did you see them?”

“I heard them first,” you tell him, keeping your voice low so as to not frighten them. “Needed some air.”

“The smoke from the campfire botherin’ you?”

“I swear to God, it targets me,” you sincerely reply, making JJ laugh. You finally retract your finger (still sticky from the Smores made earlier) and turn, looking up at him. He looks down at you. Some strands of hair stick out from under his cap, pressing against his forehead. His brows are almost permanently slanted, eyes bright in the dusk of the evening. His shark tooth necklace sits against his chest. JJ’s lips quirk at your staring. “It’s not fair.”

“What’s not fair?”

“You’re so pretty,” you say, shaking your head, smiling. The alcohol has given you too much confidence, it seems. Loose lips. His eyes widen in momentary surprise but he catches it, covers it well. Then, comes his mask of confidence. He gives you a cocky smile. 

“You’re not too bad yourself,” he suavely replies. 

“Nah, I mean it. You’re really something, Maybank,” you smile, doubling-down. In for a penny and all that.  

His smugness fades into something more real. He doesn’t seem to know how to take compliments like that. Then, strangely, something like panic tugs his brows together. “I’m not very good at this sorta thing.”

Your frown of confusion seems to spur him on. 

“Being honest. Real. I’m…I’m pretty fucked up, y’know?”

“The best people are,” you murmur, meaning every word. 

“Nah, I mean it, though. I’m not…I don’t wanna hurt you.” JJ says it so quietly, so sincerely, that you get the sense that he’s never said it before. Maybe only thought it on dark nights, when you’re so alone with your thoughts it’s maddening. Smiling, shaking your head, you lift a hand to his cheek. Your heart hiccups at how he relaxes into your touch. 

“I don’t think you have to worry ‘bout that,” you whisper. 

You’re not sure who moves first, whether it’s him or you, but you end up a hair-width apart at the lips. His breath is hot as it fans onto your lips. Risk comes like a lightning rod and you take it, pushing onto your toes, connecting your lips with his. His hand finds yours and squeezes. That small gesture, as innocent as it is, tells you that you’re crossing this boundary together, from friends into something more. 

Pistachio Pastries 

The smell of coffee rouses you from sleep. You hum sleepily into your pillow, nuzzling in the scent of your boyfriend: peppermint and sage. A heavy palm gently pets your hair. 

“Wake up, sleepy,” Mark murmurs. 

You grumble in protest and he chuckles. The bed dips and the duvet lifts as he climbs back into the cocoon of warmth. Rolling over, you tuck yourself against him. He always slept in pyjamas. It was adorable. Nothing cheesy: just a simple shirt and flannel bottoms. His arm hooks around your waist and holds you against him. You swear to God, you could hide here forever. Mark was safety and security. Mark was the netting beneath a trapeze artist. Mark was the emergency brake in a racing car. 

“Wednesday again,” he says, stroking the skin of your back. “Kiara messaged the Instagram page today. Said one of them will drop off an order around one-ish.”

“Sweet.”

An alarm blares from Mark’s phone and he cusses, breaking apart from you to retrieve it and turn it off. You take the opportunity to sit up and grab your coffee. The steam tickles your nose as you blow on it. Routine. Mornings spent in the mini home Mark had made in his parents backyard, in their old shed. He brought you coffee in the morning and you brought him tea before bed. You’d be asleep by ten and awake by eight. Your shifts at the smoothie shop typically followed a Monday through Friday routine, with the exception of midweek, with Wednesdays reserved for The Stirring Spoon. Weekends passed in a blink. Then, you reset to continue with the same thing again. 

But that’s okay. Routine is okay. It’s reliable. Monotonous in a way that assures certainty. Besides, you liked your job, and your coffee, and your Stirring Spoon. But maybe it might be nice to stray from it all, just for a change. 

You carefully place your coffee back on the side table and look over to Mark. He’s scrolling on his phone, lips set in a line, brows tugged together in vague concentration. A thrill runs through your body at the thought, as you press several kisses to the skin of his neck. You feel him breath beneath you. Then a kiss comes to your forehead, quick like a grandparent to their least favourite grandchild. 

“Baby,” you hum, lifting a hand to rub your finger along his jawline. 

“Mhm?”

“Do you have any, like…things you wanna try.”

He takes a moment to think, looking up from his phone. A smile comes to his face and he looks down at you, and your body burns with anticipation. “Surfing. Was never that good at it but I’d like to try it again, y’know?”

It fizzles away like water atop of a dying flame. “Oh. Yeah, no, yeah…that’s…you should do that.”

He frowns. “You okay?”

“Well, I just meant more…in the bedroom. Like anything, I don’t know…” Your face burns like you’re a nun stumbling across a Playboy magazine. “Kinky?”

“Kinky?”

“Not like oh my God, kinky. Just…I don’t know…”

He quirks a brow, smiling at you in a teasing sort of way. “You got some kink you’re not telling me about?”

“Maybe,” you tell him, hoping it comes out seductive. 

“I don’t know,” Mark sighs, resting his head back against the wall. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows and you lick over your lips. He grins, like something dawned upon him, and he dips his head suddenly to press his lips to yours. “Wanna know what I’ve always wanted to try?”

“Mhm,” you say, lifting your hands to cup his face and keep him near. Yes, your body practically cries. Tell me, tell me, tell me. 

“Well,” he stalls, kissing you again. You chase his lips, shortening in breath. “I’ve always wanted–” another kiss “-to try-” another kiss “-doing it in the shower.”

It’s hard not to deflate completely with disappointment. 

Wow, yeah Mark. Kinky. 

But when you open your eyes, you come face to face with a nervous, sweet, caring Mark. A Mark who always makes sure you feel good and safe. A Mark who would never walk past an elderly man struggling to cross the road. A Mark who would donate a twenty dollar bill he found on the roadside. And you can see it in his eyes, this burning passion, this shock at his own words, because for him, that was like confessing to watching gangbang porn in a Church. So, you plaster on a smile, feigning excitement. “No, yeah. That’d be fun. We should totally do that.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you grin, kissing him again. He sighs, pushing back against you. Your body sparks up again. The feel of his hands on your sides is like static energy. “We should try it now.”

“Now?”

“Mhm,” you nod eagerly, kissing at his lips desperately. “Good way to start the morning, huh?”

“Maybe,” he says. He pulls away slightly, guilty as he adds, “but it’s been a while since I cleaned the bathroom. And I promised my mom I’d help her out today, and I gotta be good to go in like ten minutes so…”

“Oh.”

He kisses you fleetingly on the lips and then tosses the bedsheets off his lap. You watch him get up. “But maybe soon? Like Friday?”

Routine with scheduled sex. 

“Okay,” you say through a false smile. You sink against your pillow and watch him put on his slippers. The moment his back turns, you drop the expression. You’re so disappointed there doesn’t feel much point in trying to get off by yourself now, either. You don’t seem to fix your frown quick enough before he turns back around. 

“Oh, hey, baby, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Mark frowns. He lowers down so his eyes are level with yours. You pout like a child as you look at him. He pushes some hair off your face. “I swear, if I weren’t about to go help my mom, I’d be all over you right now.”

“Mhm.” Maybe you are being a bit selfish. He’s helping his mother for God’s sake! Smiling, properly this time, you jokingly warn, “I’m gonna hold you to that, Mark.”

“You better,” he winks. He kisses you before leaving the room, into the bathroom. Sighing, you roll on your back and blink up at the ceiling. You practise your mantra - Mark is good. Mark is good for me. Mark is good. Mark is good for me - and you get up to start your day. 

The Stirring Spoon is a good distraction from your whining libido. It’s hard to think about fucking when you’re comparing shapes of pasta. And yet, you still find a way. Because as you stack packets of spaghetti, you try and recall the last time you and Mark had really good sex. Not sex where it’s soft and nice and satisfying. Sex when you feel like you might cry or scream, just to cope with the pleasure pulsing through your body. Sex when you’re actually scared that you might have a heart attack from how fast your heart’s beating. Was it ever like that with Mark? Was it ever like that with anybody else?

Yes. 

“Hey.”

The very boy who just popped into your mind like a vision stands before you, crate in hand, smile on face, as if you manifested him. 

“JJ.”

“You good? You were looking at that spag pretty hard,” he asks, amused. 

“No, yeah, I’m good,” you say. You drop the pasta like it’s incriminating to what you were thinking about. Don’t tell JJ about the hot sex I was thinking about with him, pasta, please. “What’re you doing here?”

“Delivery from Kildare County Kitchen,” he says, dropping the crate down onto an empty spot on the table. “Some of Cleo’s less deadly version of her gumbo; a few sandwiches that Sarah whipped up; and some fish me and John B caught the other day.”

“Damn, that’s quite the haul,” you say, glancing into the crate and surveying its contents. “Thanks, JayJ.”

As you retrieve the items and lay them out carefully and neatly on the table, JJ shoves his hands in his short pockets and looks around the yard. “So. Loverboy here?”

“He’s busy today, helping his mom.”

“Ah. You short of a helping hand today, then?”

“Why? You want to help?” you say, half-joking. But JJ shrugs. 

“I’m not doing much. Why not?”

“Don’t the others need you back at the shop?”

“There’s five of them, I think they’ll manage,” JJ replies sardonically. He claps and rubs his hands together. “Where do I start?”

“Um…” You stand upright and scan the area, checking what looks the most chaotic. As if on cue, the local bakery van pulls up. “Oh, sweet. Delivery. You can help me unload and log inventory.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The two of you walk over to the van, side by side, hands kept politely to yourselves. Small talk sits on your tongue but doesn’t make it into the world. 

“Morning Mr Parker,” you call. 

“Morning, darlin’,” he croons in his southern accent. “You too, Maybank.”

“Good to see you, sir,” JJ nods. 

“What you got for me today?” 

“Some good stuff, I’m not going to lie to y’all,” he grins over his shoulder before opening the doors to the back of the van. Mr Parker pulls out a tray of sealed baked goods. JJ steps in and takes it, and as he holds it you crack open the lid to peer in. 

“Pastries?”

“Pistachio pastries,” Mr Parker says proudly. His takes off his cap and brushes a hand through his short grey hair. “My wife got a bit carried away. People in this town don’t have that fancy of taste buds.”

“Maybe not on the Cut,” JJ mumbles, making you smile. 

“Well, be that as it may, glad I can contribute something to your little venture,” Mr Parker tells you. He squeezes your shoulder sweetly. “Y’all doing a good thing, with this here Stirring Spoon.”

“Thank you,” you say, overwhelmed by the simple praise. “Well, we appreciate any contribution, especially pistachio flavoured ones.”

With that, the three of you get to work carrying the four trays of baked goods to a spare table. Bidding Mr Parker farewell, you and JJ take pause against the table. 

“I think I’ve earnt a break.”

“You’ve been here less than an hour.”

“Time flies by when you’re having fun, and all that,” he says passingly as he cracks open one of the bakery tubs. He grabs one of the pastries and tosses it into his mouth. His eyes widen as he chews. “Holy shit. These are so good.”

“JJ, you’re not supposed to eat the–”

“--try one.” A pastry is shoved into your mouth. You glare at him but bite, and holy shit this is really good. It must read on your face cause JJ grins. “Yeah, right? So good.”

“Oh my God,” you mumble. The two of you smile at one another like you’re stealing cookies from a jar. 

“You remember that time we got high and raided Pope’s dad’s fridge?”

You laugh and nearly choke on the flaky pastry. “Oh my God, I totally forgot about that.”

“You were like a fucking racoon,” JJ sniggers. 

“You were the one that got me high in the first place.”

“I didn’t fucking drug you! You wanted to try it!”

“Yeah, I did,” you grumble, unwilling to accept responsibility for completely draining the Heyward fridge. 

“You’re cute when you’re high.”

You glance up at him. His smile is coy, like he knows he shouldn’t have said that. Because he shouldn’t. Rolling your eyes, you play it off as best you can. “Cute whilst I’m stuffing my face with questionable cheese?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shrugging. “You’re cute all the time though, so guess it’s not very hard for you to be even cuter high.”

“JJ, stop it.” Your tone is gentle but firm. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” JJ says. “Captain Vanilla.”

You hate how he isn’t completely wrong. “That’s not his name.”

“It’s just too easy,” he shrugs, playful as always. “The guy is a walking textbooked ‘good guy’.”

“What’s so wrong with that?” you mumble, picking out another pastry and studying the way it’s rolled. 

“Nothing, I guess. Just find it funny.”

“Funny how?”

“That you’d go from me to him.”

You glance up from the pastry to meet his gaze. “We never officially dated, JJ.”

“Same difference,” he shrugs. “But hey - you know you. You know what you want.”

“Exactly…” 

You do know you, don’t you? It sounds like such a crazy thing to question. But the older you get, the more you think you don’t know a thing about yourself. What’s your favourite colour? What’s your favourite animal? What do you want out of your future? What do you want out of a relationship? Journeying back to the morning, your mind replays the scenes like a horror movie. The worries of when the last time you felt passion in the bedroom feeds into worries of when the last time was that you felt passion, period. Oh no: it feels like an existential crisis might be coming on, about thirty years too early.

“Hey.” You snap out of your spiral. JJ forces a smile. “Just wanna know that you’re still living, not just secure. Y’know. As a friend.” 

Funnily enough, that does little to cheer you up. 

Croissants

JJ’s skin is warm against your cheek. Your face rests on his bicep, using it as a makeshift pillow, as you lay skin-to-skin, body-to-body. One of your legs is hooked over his, and his palm rubs large, mindless patterns against the sweat-sticky skin. The room is bathed in moonlight, the curtains drawn closed, and you can hear the sounds of the marsh from outside the Maybank residency. You wonder if JJ might have fallen asleep. His chest is rising and falling rhythmically and you can’t see his face from here, to tell if his eyes are open or shut. But then he sighs and you smile against his arm. 

“Tell me about your family,” you request in the quiet of the room. 

“What about them?”

“Anything, really. Like about your mom and dad; if you have any siblings,” you murmur. 

“Not much to tell,” JJ replies in a hum. 

“Still. Tell me anyway.”

“Tell me about yours,” JJ deflects. You crack a smile. 

“Alright,” you relent. “I live with my mom and my dad. She’s a waitress and he’s a mechanic.”

“You got any brothers or sisters?” he asks, his thumb massaging your upper leg. 

“I did,” you say, your voice turning softer. “An older sister.”

“What happened?”

Your lips press together. An image flashes into your mind like a jumpscare, of a coffin dressed in white daisies and lilies. Swallowing thickly, you close your eyes and will the memory away. It’s then that you decide to confide in JJ. 

“Do you know who Andy Warhol is?”

“I recognise the name,” he replies after a moment, not questioning why the sudden change in topic. 

“He was an artist. Painted a lot of pop-arty things.”

“Is that the freakshow who painted those boring-ass soup cans?” JJ wonders. You laugh quietly. 

“I wouldn’t describe him like that but yeah, that’s the guy.”

“What about him?” JJ asks. 

“He was in love with this man, way back when. He kept a diary and this man he was in love with died, and Andy was heartbroken. But he ain’t like to say that somebody had died. Instead, he used to write that ‘they went away’, like on a trip or somethin’,” you tell him. Your voice trails off towards the end, fearing JJ might laugh at you as you go on to say, “I don’t know. I think I’d like to say that about my sister.”

JJ shifts underneath you until the two of you are lying side by side, now able to see one another’s faces through the muggy darkness of the room. His eyes glow in the non-existent light, shining and present, gazing into yours. 

“Where’d she go, then? On this trip of hers,” he coaxes. Your lips part in surprise, and for some reason, you want to cry for his small act of kindness. Then, you smile, small and sombre. 

“To Paris, in France,” you whisper. 

“She go to the Eiffel Tower?”

“Every day. She eats dinner there at night and watches it twinkle. For breakfast, she buys a croissant and sits by the Seine,” you murmur. Tears wet your eyes as you picture your lost sister, venturing the streets with the wind in her hair, kissing her plump cheeks. Your voice is thick when you continue, “it’s her dream to see all the stuff in the Louvre. She goes every week and keeps a note of where she’s been and where she wants to go.”

“Like the Catacombs?”

You laugh and sniffle. “Nah. They’re too creepy for her.”

“Damn straight,” JJ mumbles. “They scare the crap outta me.”

As a tear lets slip, trickling down your cheek, JJ reaches out his thumb and wipes it away. His hand lingers on your face and you feel yourself lean into his hold. It’s like he’s holding you up. He’s holding you together. You open your eyes into his. There’s a smile on his face, different to the others. More reserved, less obvious, so different to the JJ you’d known and heard of before. You’re terrified of losing it entirely or saying something especially stupid, and so instead you mouth two words: ‘thank you’. 

When he kisses you, it’s different too. There’s something about it, like a taste that wasn’t there before, and it lingers in your mind and mouth. It only grows as JJ deepens the kiss. Your hand traces his jawline and your fingers loop through the locks of his hair, and you tug him closer with a breath. The dance of your lips and tongues and teeth is growing more and more familiar by the day and it terrifies you how easy it has been to become accustomed to it. How easy it has been to become accustomed to JJ. Hands on your hips, JJ lifts you atop of him with a grunt, him rolling onto his back. You shrug the comforter off your back and straddle him. Your hands cradle his face, palms cupping his cheeks. You kiss him like he’s the antidote to all your ailments. Your mouth chases him in the teasing of his lips, breaking apart just to reel you back in. JJ’s teeth nip at your lower lip and pull, just so, just enough to have you whining and sighing like some lovesick fool. Maybe you are. 

“JJ,” you mewl, rocking back against him. He groans as you begin to torture his jawline and neck. Groans louder when you suckle on the tender skin by his ear, painting hickeys like a beautiful landscape. His fingers dig into the flesh of your hips deep enough to leave delicious bruises. You feel him growing hard beneath you as you grind against him like some animal in heat. 

“Fuck, you’re so…Fuck…” 

Your lips continue their descent down his body. Kisses are peppered along his windpipe, bridging over his Adam’s apple, and you can feel every breath, every stutter, every sigh. Down his chest, bare and broad, and down his stomach. His hands are now free from your hips and instead they tether into your hair, combing through the strands. You look up at him from between his legs - he’s made space for you - and can make out his lazy smile through your hooded gaze. JJ’s looking down at you too. His eyes glow. 

You ghost a kiss over his boxers and he inhales a long, deep breath, his head tilting back into the pillows, eyes undoubtedly slipping shut. Lips upturning with a smile, your fingers tuck into the band of his boxers, and you pull them down his legs tantalisingly slow. Somewhere in the shadows of the room you hear him mumbling, ‘please.’ Taking him in hand, revelling in his short gasp, you guide him to your mouth. The smell, the feel - it all consumes you as you go down on him. The brush of bristly hair scratching against your nose, flooding your senses. JJ’s hand comes to the back of your head quick, as if guiding your pleasure, wordless praising your ways. Until it’s not wordless. 

“Fuck, that’s it…Taking me so fucking good, huh? Look so pretty like this…”

You hum around his length and he stammers out a moan. Your eyes flick up to take in the sight of his exposed neck, head thrown back, mouth hanging open as he lets noises slip through, shameless and sinful. And you love it, the way you can bring him to the brink, the way you can manipulate his satisfaction like moulding something out of clay. A finger here, a stroke there. The tip hits the back of your throat uncomfortably. You pull away with a damning pop and a trail of saliva connects the two of you. Resting your head against the apex of his thigh, you jack him off with your hand, almost mesmerised by the way he pulses in your hold. Maybe it’s the sounds he makes. JJ Maybank walks like he’s a God; it’s a power trip to have him weak at your hold. 

“Please, please, fuck…Jus’want your mouth, baby, please,” he begs through gritted teeth. His hand gently yet firmly pushes at your head, trying to guide you back to him, and you feel a giggle bubble up through your throat. It feels unnatural, this version of you. Sexy, seductive, sly. 

“You want my mouth?” you tease, pressing a kiss to his throbbing dick. 

“Fuck - yes, yes, please,” he groans. You glance up at him and meet JJ’s gaze. His hair, damp with sweat, hangs over his forehead, dangling over his eyes. A sadistic smile is on your face as you pull away, easing your hand off him too. His brows furrow. It’s like something snaps inside of him - some restraint he was holding breaking like the overstretching of elastic. His hands are on your in a second, gripping and grabbing at your body like you weigh no less than feathers, and you gasp as he tosses you onto your back. He’s on top of you, ravishing your throat and collarbone so mercilessly, you’re gaping at the ceiling, eyes wide. 

“Think that’s funny, huh? Wanna see how much you like it?”

You stammer something out; you don’t even know yourself if it’s a yes or no. All you know is you want him - you need him - on you, in you. Anything. JJ doesn’t make you wait. His hands pull your panties away swiftly. A finger slips all too easily through your slit and you gasp, eyes rolling shut. His laugh is deep, crooning, cruel in your ear. 

“So fucking wet for me, hm? Such a fucking slut. Wanna see how it feels?”

“P-please.”

The stretch of your walls isn’t unpleasant as he eases a finger in. You let out a wanton moan. It pumps leisurely inside, the foreign metal of his ring overwhelming, and the brush of the tip of his thumb against your clit has you panting from the pleasure. 

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”

“Fuck…”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. Then the torture begins, of the instant movement of his finger, in and out, in and out, before easing away so suddenly it’s like he was never there. After that, the faintest of pressure on the exposed skin at his mercy. His damp finger trailing the inside of your thigh. He repeats this cycle until you’re almost in tears. Your hands clutch the bedsheets in fists, feet writhing uselessly at the head of the bed, kicking at the flimsy pillows. You know he’s gloating from the power he holds. Something tells you he doesn’t get this much control in most aspects of his life. Something tells you he gets off this just as much as you. “You wanna come? Do you?”

“Fuck! Please, please, JJ, please. I’ll do anything, please, please,” you blubber. You don’t care how embarrassing it sounds; how much it pleases him. All you care about is feeling that hot, blinding, pulsing pleasure consuming your every nerve, every bone, every fibre of your being. His breath is hot against your collarbone. JJ kisses the lobe of your ear in such a tender way you wouldn’t be able to fathom the magic he works with his hands below the belt. And as you finally break, tumbling over the edge, letting out a fucked-out sob when you do, you can make out JJ’s low voice, his Southern accent thick like molasses. 

“That’s it, baby. Make a mess on my fingers.”

Smores 

Despite telling Mark where you’re going, it still feels like sneaking around behind his back as you walk up to the Pogue’s house. But this isn’t anything nefarious. This is just you breaking routine. This is you catching up with old friends, current friends, and having fun. Sharing some drinks, smoking a joint or two, sitting around a campfire. Good, old fashioned fun just like when you were sixteen. 

Yep. That’s all. 

“Hey yo! There she is!” JJ hollers the moment you come into view. 

“Hey!” you smile, waving. In your other hand is a bag filled with a six pack of beer, a packet of graham crackers, some chocolate and a bag of marshmallows. You ditch it by the cooler to hug everyone hello. JJ’s last. His arms wrap around you like tree vines, secure and strong, and it’s familiar in a way that has you lingering. Mark. You break apart and take a seat on the opposite side of the campfire to him. 

“What’s in the bag, mystery girl?” the girl you now know as Cleo asks. 

“Some refreshments,” you say, lifting up the six pack. That earns a few whoops and hollers of approval from the already tipsy group. “And some snacks.”

“Smores?” Sarah gasps. She takes the bag of marshmallows from you. 

“Just like old times,” you say. Your eyes catch JJ’s. He’s watching you. 

“Let’s light these bad boys up,” John B announces. The gang is vocal in their approval. Sticks and twigs are gathered for skewers. Marshmallows dangle over the open flames that lick into the dusky air. A marshmallow shoves at yours and you glower at JJ. 

“Leave my marshmallow alone.”

“Hey, this is America. I got rights, y’know?”

“Says who?”

“The constitution,” he retorts, grinning. You roll your eyes, trying and failing to bite back your smile. 

“Y’all better stop it,” Cleo says in her thick Jamaican accent. “I ain’t wanting any marshmallows going to waste.”

“You heard her,” you playfully quip at the blonde haired boy. He rolls his eyes at you. He’s smiling. The amber of the fire paints his face like an oil artwork. What must it be like to grow up that beautiful? 

No, no, stop it. Stop it! God, what is wrong with you? This is just because you and Mark have been a bit distant lately. Yes, that’s all. You’re getting stuck on nostalgia. It’s a mind’s trick. It didn’t work before with JJ so who’s to say it will again. The two of you are friends - he’s been a good friend - and you don’t need to go muddying the waters. You punish yourself by staring into the flames and trying to make images of Mark’s face in the fire. 

The night spurs on with drinks that wash down the sickly sweet snacks. You listen to the tales of El Dorado and laugh at the reminiscences of youthful madness when you were all in high school. It isn’t until you’re back in the bubble of the Pogues that you realise how much you missed it. It’s like rediscovering your favourite movie from childhood. It brings a certain comfort that few things can match. They ask about The Stirring Spoon and you recount the tale of how you came about with the idea, of how you got it off the ground. Nobody asks about Mark and you’re ashamed that you don’t feel the urge to bring him up, either. 

You go for another swig of your beer to find it empty. The cooler by John B is empty too, upon investigating. You drop the lid. 

“You guys got any more beers?”

“Probably some down at the fish and tackle shop,” Kiara tells you. 

“Thanks,” you say, starting towards the dock. The further you walk, the more the vivacious chatter turns into a humming like the crying cicadas and croaking frogs and cooing owls. The water laps at the wooden pillars and you smile, letting your eyes slip shut for a moment as you walk. Nature is so wonderfully peaceful. The cooler is full of bait and chum, but there’s a small section for the beers. You retrieve one and drop the lid to find JJ standing in your peripheral. 

“Holy shit!”

“Sorry!”

“What the fuck, man?” you laugh. 

“Just wanted a refill too,” he says, shooting you a squiffy smile. His hair is dishevelled. He seems to wear caps less now, you note. You’re happy about that. In your tipsy state you can admit your attraction with less shame. You chalk it up to appreciating beauty the way one can appreciate a perfect sunset or timeless painting. To stop your staring, you open the cooler and hand him a can. “Thanks.”

“Hey, cheers,” you say, holding your drink out. He clinks his against yours. “To old friends.”

The two of you take a drink. Neither of you go to move back to the other Pogues (who are seemingly in some weird charades battle that is far from quiet). JJ gestures over your shoulder. “You seen the boat yet?”

“The H.M.S?” 

“Nah, the new one,” JJ answers. 

When he walks past you, you catch a whiff of his smell and it reminds you of home. You turn and follow him. He steps up onto the large boat. It’s painted bright green and in yellow paint, the name reads The Snapper. JJ offers you a hand and you take it, letting him help you up onto the boat. You feel your phone vibrate in the pocket of your shorts but you’re in no mood to check it. 

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

“So sweet,” you agree, looking around. JJ wanders over to the main console and flicks on an overhead light. He glows beneath it. When he takes a seat on the bench, you do the same, sitting opposite. Sighing, you lean your head back against the brutal plastic. “This is the life.”

“Yeah? You miss the marsh?”

“I miss it all,” you quietly confess. 

You can hear the rustle of clothes and the flick-flick of a lighter. The smell of cannabis drifts into the air. “Here.”

Opening your eyes, you lift your head to find a joint extended out to you. Smiling, you take it with thanks and have a hit, then a second, then a third. You haven’t smoked in what feels like forever. Mark doesn’t like the smell; says it makes him feel sick. You wonder why you stopped indulging in something you enjoyed just because of that, even on your own time. 

“Thanks,” you say, passing the joint back. You ditch your beer can to the side. One poison at a time would be best in these sticky situations, you reckon. 

“What’d you mean, ‘you miss it all’?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You gaze off into the distance; it’s hard to make out much definition in the dark, save for some lights of houses in the far distances and the silhouette of plants and trees. “I feel like my life is so…‘same’ now.”

“Same is good.”

“Sometimes,” you say. “But I keep thinking about what you said to me, the other day. About being secure but still living. What if…What if I’m not living?”

“Well–”

“--I mean, look at you guys! You went to El Dorado! You found El Dorado, and the Royal Merchant, and the Royal Merchant’s treasure, and the Cross of Santo Domingo. What did I find? A mouldy tomato in a box of potatoes.”

JJ cracks up and you roll your eyes. “It’s not funny,” you mutter, smiling nonetheless. You take the joint back and have another drag. Relief fills your system. The muscles in your face loosen along with your mouth. “It’s pathetic. I’m nearly twenty-one and I’ve been as far as Charleston and have about a handful of exciting memories to my name.”

“Woah, come on now,” JJ chuckles, taking the blunt back. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit hard on yourself? You heard what Mr Parker said: that Stirring Spoon thing is awesome, and that was all you. You’re feeding the community, bringing people together. That’s way cooler than some shiny fucking  stones.”

“Meh,” you shrug. “Guess I’m just jealous of you.”

“Ha! Yeah, don’t be,” JJ sarcastically berates. A shadow comes to his face. Foot in the mouth syndrome curses you.

“Shit. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You’re good. I sometimes forget how bad it was too, with how things are now,” JJ admits. He smiles at you and takes another hit. “But I guess I didn’t fully let you in then, huh?”

“You think?” you jest. He laughs, thankfully, and you inhale the sweet scent of the herb. “Guess I just get stuck on the good memories from before. Like all the days skipping school to surf. And how the summers felt like they could go on forever. Or that time we broke into City Hall, or pranked Topper’s house.”

“Damn, I guess we did get up to a lot of shit, huh?”

“Damn straight,” you grin. Following the dance, you take the joint back. 

“Well, I can think of some other memories, too,” JJ says. His grin is telling, tongue poking through his teeth. You bite back your smile. 

“Don’t,” you warn. 

“What?” he chuckles. 

“Don’t! That’s dangerous territory,” you tell him. You point your joint at him. “That’s no man’s land.”

“Oh man!” JJ groans, tossing his head back. “Why’d you have to call it that!? You know that’s like calling a moth to a fire or whatever!”

“What?” you giggle, eyeing him. 

“Telling a guy not to do something is the exact thing to do to get a guy to want to do something,” JJ argues nonsensically. You laugh, shaking your head at him. He holds your gaze and you feel your smile settle into your skin like footprints into damp sand. “They were pretty good memories, huh?”

“Yeah,” you quietly say. “They were pretty good.”

“Remember that time we did it on the beach.”

“Stop it,” you say, but there’s little conviction in your words. You can’t take his eyes anymore, the blue dragging you under like currents in a riptide. You look down at the joint and fixate on the way the embers burn at the paper. 

“Or that time–”

“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”

You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”

Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”

“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise. 

“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers. 

Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply. 

“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”

You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour. 

“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”

“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”

“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”

“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning. 

“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”

“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”

“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort. 

“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”

“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means. 

“You want me to show you?”

“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat. 

JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next. 

JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–

Your hand clutches his jaw and you pull him in. His lips crash against yours in a breath. You kiss him like you won’t ever kiss him again. He sighs against you in the hurried mesh of mouths, groaning as your tongue brushes against his, tasting him for the first time in years. It’s like finding a childhood toy and it smells like nostalgia. It’s like eating a baked good and it tastes like a specific holiday. It’s like smoking your first joint and it feels like floating. 

Until you’re not. 

Your body falls back down to earth with a thud. You shove JJ away as if he’s flammable and you’re the deadly spark. Your mouth hangs open in shock, your eyes filling with horror, and the worst feeling you’ve maybe ever felt overcomes you so suddenly, you worry you might be sick. 

Guilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whisper. You lift a hand to your lips and your fingers brush against the damp of his spit that lingers, and it confirms that it was all real. “Oh my God.”

JJ’s lips move to try and formulate words but nothing happens. He looks just as stunned as you do. His eyes are wide, lips swollen, cheeks pink. Those three words bang about your brain as you take in the sight of him. It’s not at all unfamiliar. 

Hot ash from your joint drops onto your thigh and you cuss, brushing it off. You toss the joint into the sea behind you as if it’s the culprit, the plotter, behind all of this. Then you’re on your feet and rambling out excuses. 

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. I think it was - it was definitely the weed. I really should go, it’s so late. I’m so sorry. Oh my God, I have no idea-”

It’s as you’re about to step off the boat and onto the wooden pier that JJ’s hand locks around your wrist. It freezes you in place once more and you want to climb out of your body and scream at yourself. Instead, you look down at him. 

“You can stay, y’know,” JJ whispers. There’s a pleading in his eyes, a tenderness that you haven’t known before in him, and you finally know how Eve must have felt with that damn serpent in Eden. Temptation at its finest, dressed up in blonde, unruly hair and dreamy eyes and sculpted muscles and a graphic tee. 

Mark. 

You shake your head and snatch your hand free. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come here.”

And no matter how vehemently you tell yourself that you mean it as you hurry away from the pier and from the house, you know you don’t. 

Cheap White Wine 

The tart tanginess of the wine is sharp on your tongue as you take another swig. It’s late, or perhaps early, and the Chateau is illuminated by amber and orange from lamps. It’s raining outside as hurricane season rattles on, but you and the Pogues could care less. When you have wine, you really have everything you need. 

“Come on, come on!” Kiara laughs, egging on you to loop your arm in hers. The two of you line dance together to an old noughties CD in the player. You swing one another around in a tipsy haze to the upbeat tempo. Pope and John B heckle and holler from the pull-out sofa, toasting their beer cans up in approval. You’re happy here, like this, in your bubble. As the song comes to a close on a major chord, you and Kiara giggle and take joking bows to your audience. You frown when you look around the room, not finding JJ anywhere. 

“He’s on the porch,” Pope says, seemingly catching on. 

“Thanks,” you smile, a little embarrassed that you’re that easy to read. Taking the wine, you venture out the door, closing it behind you as another song starts up. Kie’s cheer and begging for John B to dance is muted through the shutters and windows. 

JJ sits on the sofa, a joint lit up, legs outstretched on the coffee table. He glances up at the sound of someone coming out and smiles at the sight of you. 

“Hey. Can I join?” you wonder. 

“Course,” he hums, shuffling a cushion in invitation beside him. You sit and lean against him, hitching your feet up onto the table beside his. He knocks one of his shoes against yours teasingly and you smile. Through the netting of the porch, you can make out the lashing of rain in the yard. It’s pitter-pattering is soothing like a nursery rhyme. You sigh and let your eyes slip shut. “Having fun?”

“Always,” you mumble, making him laugh. “You got any dreams?”

“Like sexy ones?”

“No,” you giggle, elbowing him, making him let out a few laughs too. “Like actual dreams. Ambitions. A wish.”

JJ takes a pause for thought. You have a swig of your wine as you wait, revelling in the sound of his heartbeat through his shirt, steady and constant. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Your heart sinks with disappointment. This wasn’t the first time this has happened. It felt as though every time JJ came close to pulling back the curtain and letting you see a glimpse, he caught eye of something that scared him and he slipped it shut again. He told you what he wanted to tell you and kept the rest close to heart. You weren’t going to pry his cards from his body to see them, but it would be nice if he showed you them once in a while. It felt like the more time you spent with him, the less you knew. You could guess things from small clues as if playing a boardgame. He hardly went home, never mentioned his mother, and his father came into conversation with a shadow. He spoke lowly of himself, presumed the worst before others could, and it saddened you how clearly he believed everything he said. JJ couldn’t see himself the way you did. 

“I do,” you whisper, hoping it might entice him to share. 

“Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“I want to start a kitchen.”

“Huh?”

“Like a community kitchen thing. Not a bakery or a restaurant, just a place for all kinds of food, for all kinds of people, y’know? A good thing, like that. My sister used to help out at a soup kitchen and…I don’t know. I always liked that.”

JJ squeezes your thigh in acknowledgment. “Sounds fuckin’ amazing.”

“Thanks.”

In the Chateau, John B and Kiara laugh and Pope speaks loudly over them, something teasing, and you smile. The smell of weed fills the air before you and blends in with the notes of your wine and the telling scent of JJ. You wonder if the smell of you affects him in the same way; if the flavours of your perfume haunt him when he can’t sleep the way his cologne does for you. Suddenly, somewhere in the serenity of the moment comes a calamitous realisation, like a rumble thunder breaking the rain. 

You were falling in love with JJ Maybank. 

Biscuits  

Food poisoning. That’s what you’d told Mark. The heavy sickness that had sat in the bottom of your stomach like a boulder since last night lingered still. You hoped it was a hangover, but that passed with an advil. You knew what this was. 

You only escaped the guilt in your sleep. The moment you returned home, you climbed under the sheets of your bed like a child hiding from the bogeyman. Sleep was the only reprieve, though it didn’t come easy, and the second you came to in the morning, the first thought in your head was the look on JJ’s face just before his lips touched yours. 

Fuck. 

Your phone pings with another message that is no doubt from Mark and you can’t bring yourself to look at it. It doesn’t help that there’s a framed picture of the two of you staring at you from the bedside. It was his gift to you for your one month anniversary, because of course Mark cares about one month anniversaries. You hadn’t gotten him anything; you had to make up some lie that it was late in the mail, and then run to the shops that night. Just further proof that you don’t deserve him. 

Hello, hell? I’d like to reserve my spot in advance. Queen sized bed please, for me and my whorish ways. Much love. 

When the phone begins to ring you groan aloud and send it straight to voicemail. You bury your head beneath the pillow and close your eyes, but the memories haunt you like flashbacks. JJ’s eyes. JJ’s lips. The way he tasted, the way he bit your lower lip just so, in that way that only he knows, in the way that he always knew drives you crazy–

“Stop it!”

Hello, hell? Quick update: I think I might be going insane, too. Just thought I should preface you. 

Somewhere in your self-loathing, you manage to drift off into another restless sleep. It’s broken by a tapping on your door. Groaning, you force yourself out of the safety of your bed and wander to your door, expecting to find your mom. Instead, your head tips back to see the face of your boyfriend. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is thick with concern, brows knitted with worry. “How you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Thankfully, you didn’t have to lie with that one. “What’re you doing here?”

“I needed to check on you,” he replies. He steps into your room and you make space, sitting on your bed. He closes the door behind him. “I tried calling but you didn’t answer.”

“Yeah, sorry, uh…I was just feeling really frail, y’know?”

“Oh, baby,” Mark sighs. He sits beside you on the bed and places his large palm on your forehead. His brown curly hair sits in perfect ringlets atop of his head. One dangles over his forehead, out of formation, and it reminds you of JJ. Just how you went from me to him, JJ had said. Were they that different, after all? “You got a temperature?”

“I don’t think so,” you say. You gently push his hand off your face. “I think I just need to sleep.”

“Well, I’m here to take care of you.”

“Really?” You hope the dread in your voice isn’t obvious. 

“Course. You’d do the same for me,” he smiles. He lifts a bag you didn’t even notice he was carrying and shows you each item. “Mama’s homemade biscuits. She’s real worried about you, y’know?”

“I’m fine,” you insist, “just a bit sick. I think the worst of it has passed.”

“That’s good, then. I’ll make you a hot drink, yeah? We can watch a movie or something. You get cosy,” Mark tells you. You nod and try your best to smile. Mark leans forward and presses a fleeting kiss on your lips, and the sickness comes back tenfold. You want to cry the second he’s out of your room. 

Mark is good. Mark is good for you. But what if you’re not good for Mark? 

Chocolate Chip Cookies

“I don’t understand.”

You sigh, rubbing tiredly at your forehead. Bile lingers in the back of your throat but you swallow it down, alongside the feeling of self-reproach. This was it: the conversation you’d been dreading. The conversation that needed to happen. You’d rehearsed your words in the mirror like practising lines for a play. Journals and diaries filled with debate, as to whether you stay or bolt. But now was as good a time as any, and you knew in your mind what the right thing to do was. You can’t risk getting in the car accident if you step out of the vehicle. 

“Did I do something?” JJ then asks, his voice weak, naked. You meet his gaze and shake your head firmly. 

“No,” you breathe, “no, you ain’t do nothing, JJ.”

“Then I don’t get it,” he repeats, stronger this time. Frustrated. You knew none of this would be easy. 

“Look,” you cut yourself off with a sigh. You shuffle your crossed legs, sitting on JJ’s bed in the Chateau in a way that you never have before, as if you’ve never stepped foot inside his life. “My parents are heading to Charleston for a couple months anyway, to stay with my grandmother and help look after her, and…well, maybe it’s for the better, that we have this distance sooner rather than later.”

“Distance?”

“You’ve been removed, JJ,” you mumble, hoping not to sound accusatory. “And that’s okay, I know you’re busy. I mean, you told me from the start that you don’t do the whole relationship-thing. But I don’t think I can stay, not right now.”

“Okay, is this some kinda joke?” JJ snaps. He gets to his feet and paces a few steps in the small throughway of his bedroom. Taking off his hat, JJ rakes his fingers through his hair. He looks at you, eyes fiery, expression hard as if to shield from the hurt that you don’t mean to cause. “What the fuck are you even talking about? I thought we were fine.”

“We are fine,” you insist. Sighing, you try and find the best way to explain yourself without giving it all away. “Look, I ain’t meaning that you’re a bad guy or that you’re damaged or anything like that. I don’t think that, not at all. But…How can I explain this?”

JJ takes a moment or two to calm himself as you hang your head and clench your eyes, searching for the perfect turn of phrase to make your thought process make sense. You find it. Lift your head, soften your gaze at the hurt on his face, and try your best to smile through the sorrow. This wasn’t easy for you either. 

“You know when you see a tornado?”

He stares at you for a short while before nodding, urging you to continue. 

“Things that like…They’re always so pretty for afar. So mesmerising, how nature can create something like that. Stunning, really. Epic. But then, you get too close, and you get sucked in. And it’s just chaos and there’s no way out of it without being broken.”

JJ nods again, pursing his lips. 

“I think that’s what might happen here,” you whisper. “If I stick around.”

“I don’t get it. You’re saying I’m gonna break you?”

“No, I’m saying…I’m saying you’re not in a spot right now to give me what I need. That ain’t your fault, JJ, but I can’t let myself stay knowing that I’m gonna have my heartbroken. I wish I could - I wish I could just wing-it like that - but I can’t.”

There’s a pregnant pause that JJ drags out, staring at you as if trying to see into your head, searching for some lie. Sighing, he must come up empty, as he takes the spot beside you on the bed again. You test the waters, leaning against his chest, feeling the warmth radiate through his t-shirt. One of his hands lifts and strokes your hair, smoothing it down. 

“I really do care ‘bout you, y’know? Like, that ain’t fake,” JJ admits in a hushed tone. 

“I know, JJ,” you reply, just as soundless. “I just think you gotta figure yourself out before you can…”

“...love you?” JJ hesitantly whispers, after you lose nerve. Your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Mhm.”

“You can’t love me ‘til then, either?”

Laughing sadly, you shake your head against him. He really couldn’t tell how much you’d fallen for him already, could he? “I don’t think you gotta worry ‘bout that ever, JJ.”

A soft kiss is planted on your forehead. “So…Just gotta do some soul searchin’, huh?”

“Somethin’ like that,” you hum. “But hey, I tell you what.”

You break apart from the comfort of his hold, tilting your head so you can look up, into his eyes. The pain in JJ’s gaze tears you like wrapping paper, and it’s worse to know it’s your fault, but you know that it’s the only way to save you both from further pain. It isn’t the right time, and that’s a shame, and it isn’t fair, since you’ve memorised the outline of him and drawn him into all your plans and daydreams. But you can hear it when you talk and feel it when you sleep together, this detachment, this removal of himself, that can’t come until he’s healed in a way that he’s far away from now. There’s something pulling him away from you, an adventure of sorts, and you don’t want to keep him from it. You want JJ to love you but you want him to choose you, too. And until then, you don’t have it in yourself to sit around on the sidelines, waiting for your heart to be broken. It’s like sitting a toddler in front of a plate of chocolate chip cookies but demanding them not to touch; the temptation might just kill you. 

“What?” JJ gently prompts, bringing you back from your thoughts. 

Your smile is sick with inner lamentation. “If you do figure yourself out, after some soul searchin’ and all that, then chances are I’ll still be here. So, I guess, if you ever feel like fallin’ then lemme know. You can catch me on the way down.”

JJ’s smile is beautiful, even when his eyes are wet with unshed tears. You lean up and press a fleeting kiss to his lips, but you don’t let yourself linger. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll never leave. You murmur some sort of goodbye, making an excuse that you should get going, and JJ doesn’t argue. He watches you as you stand, waves farewell with two-fingers as you leave, and you walk home with your heart halfway broken but more whole than it might’ve been if you stayed and tried to make this impossible thing work. JJ wasn’t ready to fall in love, not yet, but you already had. 

Ham and Cheese Sandwiches  

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I promise,” you reply to Mark, smiling reassuringly. You wonder if it looks like a grimace. It feels like one. Even touching him makes you want to cry, as you brush your hand atop of his on the table. Your feigned food poisoning was two days ago now but Mark was still worried for your health, likely because you were still acting so withdrawn and drained. It’s hard to sleep when you’re consumed by guilt and confusion. “Why don’t you see if Nancy needs a hand in the kitchen, yeah? I can work on the inventory out here.”

“You sure? I don’t mind helping.”

“I’m sure,” you nod. “I can come get you if I need anything.”

“You better,” he grins. He dips his head and kisses you and it takes everything inside of you not to pull away like a flinch. It’s not him. It’s you. You feel like you’re poison. Like JJ’s kiss has infected you and you can’t get Mark sick too. His brown curls bounce as he walks back to the building. You busy your mind with counting tins of soup. The Stirring Spoon had never had so many posters, so many new recipes, with how much you’d been trying to keep yourself busy. You picked up extra shifts at the Smoothie Shop to avoid Mark during the daytime, and you submerged yourself in your voluntary-planning work and ‘early nights’ to avoid him during the night. It wasn’t fair to him but you didn't know what else to do. 

Well, that’s a lie. You know exactly what you should do, but denial is so much easier. 

Ducking down, you grab another box of leftover soup from a local supermarket. They’d recently changed providers and all the old stuff had to go. You were thinking of making toasted sandwiches with soup. Grunting, you lift the box onto the table. The sun beats down on you as if the universe is punishing you. Good, it’s the least I deserve. 

You can spot him anywhere, even blind. He’s in the far corner carrying a smaller box than usual, compared to his crate. A sudden wave of panic comes over you and you speed walk over to him. He frowns as you approach. 

“You good? Hey!” 

You grab his arm and drag him out of sight from the field, behind an overgrown bush. “W hat are you doing here?” you hiss. 

“Bringing sandwiches?” he replies, as if it should be obvious. “Are you okay?”

“JJ, you can’t be here,” you snap. “Mark is literally in the other building!”

“So?” 

“So? Do you…Do you not remember what happened the other night?” you ask, calming down slightly. 

JJ sighs and puts the box down on the floor. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he shrugs. “Look, clearly you spun out. I ain’t gonna mention it if you don’t want me to.”

“Wait…Really?”

“Jesus Christ, I ain’t a homewrecker,” JJ chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. You want to crack a smile but you think your face might be permanently stitched in perpetual concern forever. His laughter dies. “Listen, I think you got some stuff to figure out, a’right?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t get offended! I’m jus’ saying…” JJ cuts himself of with a sigh and brushes a hand through his hair. He pinches the bridge of his nose. You missed all his little ticks and quirks. “Look, don’t kill me for sayin’ this, I’m just tryin’ to be honest. I don’t think Mark’s the right guy for you.”

“I-”

“I’m sorry, a’right? I don’t think you want to admit it either but…I think you gotta be honest. You don’t love him, okay? And that’s a’right, I’m not saying he’s a bad guy. I just think you need to make a choice.”

“What does that mean? A choice?” you quietly ask, terrified for his answer. 

His smile is sad as JJ shrugs. “I was an idiot to lose you once, I ain’t gonna lose you again - not if I can help it. If Mark’s who you want - if Mark makes you feel like you’re living - then I’ll never bring it up again. Hell, I’ll stay away from you forever, if you want. Least, I’ll try to. I don’t know if I can be held accountable for when I’m drunk but- look, now I’m getting side tracked. The point is:”, JJ speaks with his hands,  “if Mark isn’t the one for you…I’m here to catch you, y’know?”

You blink at JJ and blink away the tears. You’re not sure if you can form words right now, not even sure what words they would be, so you try your best to nod. JJ tries another smile. 

“There’s some sandwiches from Kie and Sarah for today. I hope it all goes okay. Just…lemme know. Or don’t, y’know? Either way,” he trails off with a shrug. You feel cemented into the dirt as JJ backs away. Then he’s gone. Your eyes slip shut. Some weird hybrid of JJ and Mark’s faces fill your thoughts. 

‘If you ever feel like fallin’ then let me know. You can catch me on the way down.’ 

‘I’m here to catch you.’ 

You need to figure this out and fast. It wasn’t fair to anybody, not even yourself. Dragging things out doesn’t make it any easier, it only delays the inevitable, like tediously inching a bandaid off the skin. Sometimes you just have to rip. You just have to prepare for the aftermath.

How ironic, how when you were sixteen it was you waiting for JJ to figure himself out, and now it’s your turn. It’s a shame you were never all that much of a fan of irony. 

Cinnamon Buns 

Baking is therapeutic. The precision of weighing out the ingredients; the cathartic relief from beating together butter and sugar until fluffy like clouds; the tapping and cracking of eggs; the rhythmic folding of flour; the soon-to-arrive reward for your labour. You like baking when life gets stressful. Few things are so systematic, so simple, so quick to resolve, as baking. Life is more complicated than that. 

Mark and JJ. Two sides of different coins. Neither good, nor bad. Human, just like you. 

As you prepare the batter for cinnamon buns, you try to make sense of everything. Figure yourself out, as JJ had put it. 

Mark was designed to be easy to fall in love with. It was as if the universe had a recipe for him, everything the girls crave, the people fawn over in romance novels, the parents pray for in their child’s partner. Responsible; caring; thoughtful; kind; secure; safe. Mark was good. There was no other way to put it. Hell, you met him at a voluntary community kitchen. He gave you stability like a white picket fence. Perfect and practised, like he’d been waiting for that his whole life. But you found yourself restless in the fairytale. Found yourself itching for change, for chaos, for clutter. He was sentimental in a way you weren’t. That wasn’t to say you were heartless - the two of you just loved differently. 

JJ Maybank? He wasn’t designed for it in the same way, but it was impossible to not fall in love with him. You knew it from the moment your paths crossed, back when you were sixteen and the two of you tumbled through two months together. That’s why you left in the first place. To save yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that it would bring, because sixteen-year-old JJ was in no place to commit to anybody. You assumed that with time your feelings would fade away and when you met Mark, you believed they had. You liked Mark - that wasn’t false - and you had feelings for Mark. But the love you had for JJ didn’t vanish. Like energy, it could only be transferred. It went into the back of your mind as if in hibernation but the moment JJ waltzed back into your world, it was awake. It was impossible to ignore. 

Mark was the netting beneath a trapeze artist, but JJ was the acrobat. Mark was the emergency brake in a racing car, but JJ was the driver. But JJ was safety too. He made you feel safe, but he also made you feel alive. 

And you wanted to feel alive. 

Mark was routine. He was predictable. You could see the next five, ten, twenty years of your life laid out nice and neat with Mark. But did you want that? Did you want to give up the adventure? The chaos? The things you missed so desperately. 

As you drizzle the topping on top of the cinnamon buns, you summarise your scrambled thoughts into one neat realisation: you wouldn’t have kissed JJ if you truly wanted Mark. 

Your heart feels like it’s in your throat as you walk to Mark’s house. The buns sit neat in the tupperware and you’re careful not to shake them. His door looks like a tombstone as you knock on it. There’s a noise from inside and the door opens. Mark smiles down at you. He’s dressed in a baby-blue waffle sweater and it’s so undeniably, so wonderfully him. 

“Hey!” he grins. 

“Can I come in?” you ask. It sounds ridiculous asking that when you used to sleep in this house almost daily. 

“Course,” Mark replies. He opens the door further and you slip inside. It shuts behind you. You place the tupperware on the countertop, taking too much time in letting go. “You alright?”

“Mhm. I just…I think we should talk about some stuff,” you say, feeling your voice losing power. 

“Alright. Come, sit,” he urges. You do as he asks and take the spot on the bed beside him, leaving a gap. “What’s up?”

You fumble your fingers together and stare intensely at your hands, racking your mind for the words, for where to start. You’d practised this so many times in the mirror. Childish. 

“I did something and I need to tell you, because you’ve always been so good to me, and so honest with me, and it isn’t fair to hoodwink you.”

“Okay,” Mark faintly replies. 

You take a steady breath in. Mark is good. He deserves the truth. “I went to see JJ last week, and one thing led to another, and we kissed.”

For a moment, there’s nothing. Just the sounds of the air conditioning unit humming as white noise. Then, 

“Oh.”

You clench your eyes shut before looking up at him. He’s detached in his expression. Your eyes fill with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mark,” you whisper, scared your voice will break if you talk any louder. He meets your gaze. “You don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve to be treated that way. You’re such a good, genuine person. I just…I don’t know why, but I just…I can’t love you.”

Mark swallows thickly. The tears are warm and sticky on your cheeks. It’s so selfish to cry when you’re the one who threw the punches. You hang your head with shame and watch the teardrops land on your restless hands.

“I swear I didn’t plan it. I didn’t even know I still had feelings for JJ until…Well, until then.”

“I did.”

Your head snaps up. He’s staring at you, but he doesn’t look angry. No. There’s a shadow of a smile on his lips. A sad smile, no doubt, but a smile nonetheless. 

“You did?”

“The minute you saw him, that Wednesday at the start of the month. I saw it on your face, clear as day. You never used to look at me like that.”

“Mark–”

“--That’s okay,” he nods. He’s crying too, now, and you’re not sure what to think, what to do. But Mark does. Of course, he does. His hands reach out to hold yours, warm in his clutch, and you blubber like a petulant child. “You’re not a bad person, Y/N. I could tell something was bothering you this past week.”

“I just didn’t know how to tell you, and I didn’t even know what it meant. But I have to be honest for the both of us, and I don’t…I don’t think I’m the girl you’re looking for, Mark,” you say through your tears. 

Mark smiles solemnly and nods once. The squeeze of your hands tells you everything. I know. I agree. It’s okay. 

“Do you hate me?” you ask in a moment of pure patheticness. Mark laughs and shakes his head. 

“You’re too pretty to hate.”

“Ugh! You can’t say things like that!” you whine, throwing your head back. He laughs again, soggy with his sorrow, and he shrugs. 

“Just got to keep my good-guy rep up.”

Laughing, you shake your head at him and smile. The two of you share a breath and he nods. A conclusion. His smile dwindles. 

“I’m gonna need time, though…Before we can be friends, maybe. Just to…You know…”

“Of course,” you whisper. “I understand. Whatever you want, whatever you need. It’s all on your terms, I promise.”

Mark nods. Thanks you. It is so fucking bizarre to have the man you cheated on thank you but here we are. Life is full of strangeness. 

“Can I give you a hug?” you wonder. Chuckling, he nods, and you waste no time in throwing your arms around his shoulders. Mark holds you in the embrace and the two of you savour the feeling of one another for one last time. Against his shoulder, you murmur, “I’m going to miss you, Mark.”

“I’m going to miss you too,” he tells you into your collarbone. “JJ’s a lucky guy. But make sure to tell him I know where he lives if he hurts you.”

You tearfully giggle against him. “I’ll pass on the message.”

Bacon Sandwiches

It’s warm today; bright and brilliant. The critters are happy, chirping in the trees, croaking in the overgrowth by the water of the marsh that lines the Pogue’s house. Your footsteps feel heavy as you walk up the driveway, anticipating weighing you down. You lift a hand to shield your eyes from the sunlight and make out JJ. He’s at the entrance to the shop, stood a few rungs up a free-standing ladder. He’s trying to staple something to the walls - a banner of some kind - and you make your way over. 

“Need a hand?”

He jumps and you cringe. Oops. JJ looks down at you and his lips quirk at the corners. The muscle tee he wears is grey and hangs loose on his well-kept frame. He’s armed with a staple gun. “Yo. What’re you doing here?”

“Want a hand?” you repeat, nodding up at the banner, not quite ready to confess. JJ shrugs and nods. 

“Sure. Thanks.” 

You glance around and find something that looks sturdy enough to stand on. Dragging it over, you boost yourself up and hold out your hand to take the other side of the banner. Holding it up against the wall, JJ leans forward and steadies himself with an elbow on the wooden panelling. 

“We’re selling bacon sandwiches on weekends now, so thought we oughta advertise it, y’know? So, anyway, what’re you–” a grunt and a click of the staple gun, “-doing here?”

You step down from your boost and JJ takes your place. You don’t speak, stalling time, as JJ secures the banner. Sighing, taking it in, nodding with contentment, JJ jumps down and ditches the gun. The he stands with his hands on his hips and looks at you, shrugging again. 

“I, uh…I needed to talk you,” you say, clearing your throat. 

“A’right. What about?”

“Just like…” You rock your head back, take a breath, and steel yourself. Somewhere in that split second, you find a new mantra. JJ is good. JJ is good for me. I’m good for JJ. We’re good for each other. Smiling, you look at him again. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” he mumbles. 

There’s a playfulness, a teasing, as you shrug. “That you’ll catch me.”

You can see the words as they process through his head. See the moment he tracks the meaning, parses it altogether. A smile, beautiful and brimming, greets you, and then JJ crosses the gap between you in two large strides. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you up in an embrace. He swings you around for good measure and you laugh, looping your arms around his shoulders, holding him close, smiling against him. This is good. 

“You mean it?”

“I mean it,” you whisper in reply. He carefully reunites you with the ground. You smile up at JJ, gazing into his blue eyes, bathing in their depths. Your hand strokes along his jaw, slides down his front until it rests just above his heart. “It was always you, JJ.”

“You think…You think you can love me now?” he nervously asks. 

You shake your head with a silent laugh. It feels like breathing, like you’re finally free, as you admit, “I’ve always loved you.”

It comes and goes like a comet; the flash of shock in his eyes; the glow of his smile; the burning passion of his lips on yours. And as you kiss JJ, without guilt, without fear, you finally feel at home. When you break apart, short of air, JJ rests his forehead against yours. His thumb smooths along the soft line of your jaw and you smile. He takes a small breathe, shaky, unsure, but JJ's words are sure like bedrock.

"I love you too."

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 17 - Next

You were looking at the table with your cup of coffee in front of you.

So... calm...

You could think before hearing the loud bang.

You immediately got up running, worried to know that the hallway from where that was coming was where he was locked up.

Your heart almost stopped for a second when you saw the door to his room wide open.

Swansea lying on the floor unconscious.

What alarmed you the most was that he didn't have his axe with him.

Daisuke: "What happened?!"

He ran to the scene. While you were searching Jimmy's room from top to bottom, making sure he wasn't there.

"Stay with Swansea and lock yourselves in Jimmy's room! At least he won't be able to get in there! Now! Now!"

You helped Daisuke move Swansea to the room and closed the door once they were both inside.

You ran through the hallways to head directly to the nursery, hoping to arrive before him since it wasn't locked because you no longer felt the need to close it.

The baby's cry made you realize that you had arrived too late.

Anya: "GET OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!"

The woman was holding a chair from that place, the baby was crying loudly lying alone on the bed, Curly was watching from his stretcher, breathing heavily.

Jimmy: "I just want to talk to the captain, get out of my way."

He had the axe in hand, he looked completely out of his mind.

The moment you saw him raise the axe, you drew the gun from your uniform, took off the safety, and the first thing you did was aim for his head.

To quickly lower your aim and shoot behind his knee, making him scream and fall to the ground in an instant.

You immediately jumped on him to pin him to the ground, kicking the axe out of his reach.

You saw him open his mouth and didn't hesitate to put the gun against his cheek.

"You don't have the right to say a single word."

He fell silent upon feeling the metal against his face, looked around the room, and fixed his eyes on Anya, who for the first time held the baby to try to make her stop crying.

As soon as Anya picked her up, she immediately left the room; she didn't want to be near that man, and the need to keep an innocent creature away from such a monster gave her the strength to carry the baby and leave with her.

You were soon alarmed by several footsteps, and when you looked at the door, you sighed seeing the rescue team, feeling tranquility after such a long time.

They first took care of Curly, followed by Jimmy for the wound in his leg, and then soon continued with Anya and the baby. She had to give a testimony about the events in order to press charges against Jimmy, the baby being her strongest evidence.

You had to get Swansea and Daisuke out of the room where they had hidden, they took the older one to make sure he was okay, he was still just unconscious from the blow to the head he received when he was thrown to the ground.

You sat next to Daisuke in the rescue ship, staring at the floor distractedly.

The boy placed his hand on your shoulder, making you turn to look at him slowly.

Daisuke: "You saved us, you did it"

You felt how he hugged you and rested his head on your shoulder, feeling your uniform soak with his tears.

Daisuke: "We're going back home..."

A few men interrupted you to ask for your testimonies so they could finish their report on the trip and the inconveniences you encountered.

You didn't even know how you were able to answer all the questions they asked you, your mind was on autopilot, responding monotonously until they let you go.

"Is everything really going to be how it was before?"

You asked Curly, sitting next to him, they had changed the bandages again, his wounds disinfected and carefully treated, he no longer bled constantly, he had an intravenous line, and his bed was much more comfortable than the stretcher he had been on before.

"Of course not..."

You rested your face on his chest, hiding there, feeling his arm resting on your back.

"Can I tell you something?...It's...Very important"

He made a hum and waited for you to tell him what you had in mind.

You leaned closer to his ear to whisper what you wanted, he looked at you for a few seconds somewhat puzzled, but soon seemed happy as he let out a pained chuckle, nodding his head.

You hugged him gently, nothing was going to be the same as before, but you were going to do everything possible to ensure that at least everyone would be happy after such a tragedy.

[rubyin-wonderland]

Cupcake

opla!Sanji x gn!reader

Summary: During some late night baking, your flirty crewmate decides to keep you company.

WC: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: traditionally feminine adjectives (pretty, gorgeous, beautiful) but no gender is explicitly stated, fluff, self deprecation, lots of compliments, self indulgent

Note: first attempt at a Sanji fic because branching out is important

Night has overtaken the ship. It's calm, and stars blink in the sky, twinkling for the world to see. The soft rocking of the water has lulled nearly everyone aboard into a sweet, lovely sleep.

You were the only one awake, settled in the kitchen, a pile of various ingredients surrounding you as you prepared to bake. There was no reason behind your choice of late night activity. No anniversary or debt in need of repaying or any special event that required baked goods. It was just a calm enough night, and you couldn't sleep, so it seemed like a proper course of action.

As you began to measure out the ingredients, separating them into bowls for organisation, you heard a creak, followed by footsteps. Somebody else was awake, and was coming closer.

You watched as the door opened, revealing Sanji, yawning, before noticing you, and stopping dead in his tracks, surprised at the sight of you, hard at work this late at night.

"Well, good morning." He gave you a quick smile before stretching a little bit. "Couldn't sleep?"

"Kind of." You watch as he approaches you, inspecting the counter and your little process. "What are you doing?"

"Making cupcakes." You answered simply, dropping the flour into the bowl, a cloud of white rising as the flour settled.

"So late at night?" "Maybe I'm really early. How about you?"

He smiled. "I was going to get a glass of water." You gestured behind you. "Go on, I won't stop you."

He passed by you to grab a glass. "So, baking all alone?"

"Yeah. I find it relaxes me." He nodded, then took a careful step towards the door. "Well, if I'm bothering you-"

"You're not."

The words came out quick, and you had hoped you hadn't sounded desperate. You doubted the chef could ever be a bother to you, and you truly hoped he would stay to accompany you while you worked.

"Oh. Well then, could I stay? And watch you bake?" He moved back to the side of the island, standing opposite you, looking hopeful that you would say yes to his request. "Only if you promise to stay out of the way." You said, trying to push back a little after your small outburst earlier.

He nodded and pulled up a chair, sitting down to watch you work. You moved swiftly, pouring the ingredients into their proper bowls, making sure the measurements were just right.

"So," he broke the silence between you. "Do you bake often?"

"I used to. It was quite the hobby back at home, but I haven't had the chance to do it here yet." Sanji nodded. "What do you like to make?"

You smiled, thinking back to the copious recipes you had backed up in your brain. "Where do I start? Cookies, breads, pastries, pies, anything really. And cakes." You gestured at your handiwork. "Cakes, of course."

"Are they your favourite to make?" Sanji asked. "Oh yeah. Used to spend all day decorating them with my mom. Icing them with my favourite colours and absolutely drenching them with sprinkles." You smiled at the memory. "Sounds nice." Sanji smiled back. "She'd like you." You said suddenly.

"She would?" He asked, a little taken aback.

The look on his face told you that you might have messed up again, possibly treading a little too close to the knowledge that you liked him. But it was too late to backpedal.

"Yeah. She'd probably call you a sweetie, invite you to dinner, and insist that you leave the house with a pair of newly knit socks."

"Your mother sounds lovely." You nodded. "She is. I hope she's not lonely without me to keep her company." "I'm sure the people of your village take good care of her." Sanji comforted.

"I'm sure too. Maybe I'll write her a letter sometime. Maybe she'll even write back. One can hope."

"I'm sure she'd be happy to see you sharing your talents with your crew."

You nodded your head in thanks. "Oh, you flatter me."

"You are quite worth it." He smiled at you, something you had taken a liking to. He reminded you a little of what you imagined princes looked like in fairy tales. Handsome, charming.

The conversation went cold as you continued working, focused on the process ahead of you.

You stirred the batter, carefully adding the dry ingredients to the mixture, combining the two.

You were focused, making sure not to spill anything as you worked carefully.

"You're really pretty when you're focused."

The words slipped out without warning. Even Sanji seemed a little surprised at his comment. He'd flirted with you before, but it had always been so worked up. An act. Over dramatic and at least to you, unserious.

You had never taken his compliments seriously. At best, you thought he was trying to make you feel better about yourself. You figured it was just an act he put on to humour you, and you enjoyed it, even if it didn't boost your confidence all that much.

Admittedly, you liked Sanji. Far more than any of your other crewmates. If he were to feel the same, you would be delighted, but you were almost entirely sure he wasn't. He also flirted with Nami, and so many others who would likely be much better matches for him.

You could stand having his pity flirts to tide you over while he found someone he truly liked.

However, this was no typical flirt. There was no quick wink or smirk on his face. Just honesty. And that was so unexpected you nearly dropped your bowl.

You managed to set the bowl of dry ingredients down without spillage, trying to calm down the incessant fluttering in your chest.

"I mean, you, uh, I was going to say, I only meant that..." he was unable to say anything coherent. A man with a thousand lines backed up in his brain, suddenly rendered speechless.

You backed away from the counter, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your face. Your jaw went slack as you watched him try to come up with something, anything, to save himself.

"I'm sorry, I should just go." Sanji was as red as a tomato, taking his glass and shuffling towards the door.

"Wait." Your voice commanded him, and he turned around to face you again, looking rather ashamed of himself.

"Did you mean that?" "It just slipped out, don't be uncomfortable, I just-" "You really think I'm pretty?" You didn't believe it, but maybe you could humour him for once.

He almost laughed in disbelief. "Of course I do! Who wouldn't?"

"Plenty of people. Lots of men. And I mean lots." Sanji scoffed. "Forget them. They're nothing but trouble. You're gorgeous."

You could sense it returning. The typical flirting. His overdramatic way of trying to comfort you.

"Oh please, like you haven't been playing with me all this time too." You swatted your hand at him. "You and your over the top flirting, I know what you think of me."

Sanji frowned, confused. "And what do I think of you?"

"Not much. You notice me and don't want to hurt my feelings by ignoring me so you flirt anyways. I know you don't truly think I'm pretty-" he practically gasped at your statement. "-but I promise I don't hold it against you. It's nice that you try to get me to think I'm pretty, but I know I'm not. That's okay. I have other skills."

"How could you possibly think that?" Sanji looked more than horrified. "I have never flirted with anyone I have found less than stunning."

You laughed, getting back to your baking, mixing the dry ingredients with the wet. "There's a first time for everything."

Sanji looked absolutely distraught. "You don't seriously think I say everything I do to you as a joke? As consolation?"

You shrugged. "I mean, yeah? You just always put so much effort into your flirting, I thought it was a joke. I never knew if you meant it or not. I figured you didn't."

He walked forward, looking you in the eye from across the island, trying to convey how truthful he was being.

"I promise you, you are beautiful. Any old fool could see that. You are pretty when you're focused and I have never been more enchanted by someone in my life. And I mean that."

You laughed awkwardly, face still blazing hot. "Okay, you don't have to prove it. You can stop it, Sanji."

He circled the room until he was stood right next to you. The last of the dry ingredients fell into your batter and you set the bowl down, not mixing it yet.

"If you do not believe it tonight, I will tell you tomorrow, and the day after it, and the day after that, for however long it takes for you to believe it."

You chuckled softly. "Okay. I gotta finish these cupcakes." Sanji gently reached out a hand, resting it on your shoulder so that you would look at him.

"You are pretty, whether you believe it or not." You gently shrugged him off, though treasuring the feeling of his hand touching you. "Okay, whatever you say."

The two of you did not speak after that. He returned to his spot on the other side of the island, and the two of you spent the rest of the baking process in silence, until the last batch of cupcakes were removed from the oven.

"I'm gonna get a bit of sleep before the sun rises." You said quietly, waking up your companion, who had been napping on the countertop.

"Of course, cupcake." He said, clearly tired and a little delirious. The mix-up was clear, and yet, it had sounded like a pet name. And you giggled. The second the noise left your mouth, you turned red, and ran from the room, scurrying back to your bedroom to get a few blinks of sleep before the next day's adventures.

When you awoke, you did not feel well rested at all, but at the very least, you could sneak a tasty cupcake in at breakfast, as long as Luffy hadn't found and finished them all as soon as he saw them.

The kitchen was lively with early morning chatter, and you noticed a plate of neatly decorated cupcakes on the counter. Iced with your favourite colour, drizzled in sprinkles. Each one prettier than the last.

You looked over at the chef, who was caught between two pans of scrambled eggs and bacon, trying to see if it was him who had decorated them.

He looked up from his work briefly and smiled at you.

"Good morning cupcake." Your face burned under his eyes. Of course he had heard your giggle, and of course he was holding it against you.

"Did you do this?" You asked, pointing at the cupcakes. "Yes, I'm sorry but I figured you'd like them nice and iced. Like you said earlier. I left most of the rest for you to decorate, if you want."

"I didn't know you knew my favourite colour." You said, picking up a cupcake, admiring it.

"Of course I do. Someone so pretty deserves to have things remembered." You rolled your eyes at his not-so-sneaky attempt at flattering you. "Nice try, Sanji, but I'm not a fool." You took a bite from your cupcake.

He sighed. "I'll have to try harder next time."

"You don't have to do this. I'm fine, I promise you."

"I'm not doing this because I have to, cupcake." He grinned at the flustered look on your face. "I'm doing this because you deserve it."

[songbirdseung]

evan'scence / lee heeseung

your boyfriend, heeseung likes leaving public junctions to be alone with you and only you genre fluff

The party was already in full swing when you and Heeseung arrived, the sound of upbeat music blending with laughter and chatter. It was one of those gatherings where the room seemed too full, buzzing with energy, and people drifted in and out of conversations like bees to flowers. Heeseung had been invited by a friend he hadn’t seen in months, and as his plus one, you’d agreed to come along, half for the fun and half because you knew he’d light up any room he walked into.

But as soon as you both stepped inside, you felt it—Heeseung’s subtle resistance, the way his hand gripped yours a little tighter. You caught the look in his eyes: soft, familiar, and a touch restless. He was scanning the room, nodding and greeting people politely, but he kept leaning closer, brushing his lips against your ear.

“Let’s get out of here,” he murmured, barely hiding a smile.

You raised an eyebrow. “We’ve only been here for five minutes, Hee.”

“Exactly. That’s five minutes too long,” he countered, eyes glinting with mischief.

You laughed and gave him a light push, watching as he pretended to pout before being pulled into a conversation with a group of old friends. He kept glancing at you, his gaze speaking louder than words. Whenever the chatter lulled, he’d turn to you with an expression that said, Ready now? You’d shake your head with a grin, and he’d sigh dramatically before turning back, only half-engaged.

The cycle repeated itself over and over. You’d be talking to someone, and he’d suddenly be next to you, leaning on your shoulder and whispering, “Think they’d notice if we disappeared?”

“Heeseung,” you scolded playfully, swatting him away. But you knew, deep down, that the crowded room wasn’t where he wanted to be. His friends were great, but he thrived in moments that were quieter, moments that were just the two of you.

About an hour in, he gave up on subtle hints. “Please, Y/N?” He dragged out the words, leaning in so his lips brushed your cheek. His voice was a low, melodic plea only you could hear over the noise.

You looked up at him, catching the hopeful light in his eyes. You’d seen it a hundred times before—on lazy mornings when he wanted to stay tangled in bed, on late nights when he suggested impromptu walks. He wasn’t just asking to leave; he was asking for the comfort of your shared world, the quiet space you both cherished.

“Alright, let’s go,” you finally relented.

His face split into a wide smile, and he took your hand, weaving through the crowd with practiced ease. A few friends called after him, but he only waved and mouthed, “Next time!” before stepping out into the cool, crisp air of the night.

The walk home was peaceful, the city lights casting a golden glow on the pavement. Heeseung draped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer as he hummed a tune you recognized as one of your favorite songs. He’d always been like that, effortlessly weaving little moments of affection into the ordinary.

When you reached your apartment, Heeseung dropped the keys on the table with a soft clatter. Before you could kick off your shoes, he was behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Home is so much better,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

You tilted your head, letting out a content sigh. “I thought you wanted to go out and socialize tonight.”

“I did. Until I realized I’d rather be here, with you,” he replied, spinning you around to face him. His eyes held that deep, tender look that always made your heart skip a beat. “Stay with me?” he added, as if you’d ever say no.

Without waiting for a response, he led you to the couch, where a pile of cozy blankets and pillows awaited. Heeseung was a cuddle bug, always needing to be close, and tonight was no exception. He pulled you down with him, adjusting the blanket around both of you and resting his head against yours.

“Comfy?” he asked, a hint of a smile in his voice.

“Very,” you replied, snuggling closer as his arms tightened around you. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the warmth of his embrace—it all melted away the noise of the party, the busy streets, and the world outside.

“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered after a while, his voice barely audible above the soft hum of the city through the window.

“It doesn’t have to,” you said, lacing your fingers with his. “Not as long as we have each other.”

Heeseung shifted, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

“And you’re mine.” Eventually, you drifted off in his arms, feeling safer and more loved than ever.

[tooclevertobehappy]

Hidden in plain sight

TRIGGER WARNING : Mention of child abuse

Clara’s body ached with exhaustion, but it wasn’t the kind of tiredness that could be fixed with a good night’s sleep. It was the kind that settled deep in her bones—emotional exhaustion that no amount of training could burn off.

Being seventeen and juggling both school and a football career had already complicated many aspects of her life, but she had managed fairly well so far. After a year and a half at Barcelona, she had grown accustomed to the demands of her sport and the rigors of school. But then her mother left, abandoning their home in the middle of the night without even leaving a note. Clara and her father were left behind, their home life—once a stable source of comfort and safety—slowly unraveling before her eyes.

At first, her father stayed strong, clinging to the belief that his wife would return and life would eventually go back to normal. But she never did. The ball crashed against the goalpost with more force than necessary, Clara’s shoulders tensed with every shot. Each kick was a release—a scream she couldn’t let out, a rage that no one could see. The field was her escape, but even here, the weight of her home pressed down on her chest, harder with every breath, her father sank deeper into his own grief.

He eventually turned to alcohol to numb the pain, drinking more and more each day. It started with an occasional glass, but soon, Clara would come home from practice to find him already drunk, slumped on the couch with a beer bottle in hand.

They had an unspoken arrangement. Clara would stay out of her father’s way, retreating to her room as soon as she got home. She’d only come out once she was sure he had passed out on the couch, to quietly prepare herself something to eat before heading back to her room to do homework and get some sleep.

This pattern continued for a while, until it began to deteriorate further. Clara would hear the familiar sound of the bottle cap twisting off before she even stepped inside the door. His mood swings from slurred words of "I miss her" to violent outbursts, as though each day was a reminder that her mother wasn’t coming back.

At first, it was just snide remarks thrown her way or orders to clean up after him, his words, once laced with sadness, now carried a bite—clipped commands, accusing glares when she was late, his footsteps heavy with impatience. He no longer cared to hide it, but it soon escalated. He shoved her against walls, screamed at her, blamed her for her mother’s departure, and even threw beer cans at her.

Clara had no choice but to handle it on her own. She couldn't tell her teammates about it, not when she had spent years idolizing them and had finally earned a spot playing alongside them.

When Ingrid casually commented on Clara’s new bruise, Clara forced a smile, her heart thumping in her chest. “Clumsy,” she’d said, but her eyes avoided Ingrid’s, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

She couldn't let anything ruin this opportunity, so she kept quiet.

She didn’t confide in Alexia about the fear she felt every time she went home. She didn’t tell Mapi or Ingrid about the bruises on her body during their weekly dinners. She didn’t explain why she avoided changing in front of them, letting them assume it was just typical teenage shyness. Clara had always been quiet and reserved, but she’d grown close to Ingrid and Mapi. She appreciated Ingrid’s calm nature and quiet talks, and found comfort in Mapi’s endless monologues. So, it wasn’t surprising when one of them noticed that something was wrong.

Ingrid had always admired Clara’s quiet strength, how she was always the first to show up for team dinners, never complaining, always reliable. But lately, she’d noticed the cracks—Clara’s forced smile, the way she’d fidget with her hands when they spoke, the silence that stretched longer than it should. Ingrid knew something was wrong, but Clara had always been so good at hiding things.

Clara had never missed one of their dinners, not even when she had been sick. She had once shown up at practice with a fever but still managed to smile through it. So when Clara declined this week's dinner, citing homework, Ingrid immediately felt something was off. Clara had been pulling away lately—she was quieter, more withdrawn, and had been avoiding team hangouts and dinners. Ingrid started to worry. Concerned, she decided to visit Clara at home, hoping to understand what had been going on.

Ingrid arrived at Clara’s house a short while later. She had dropped Clara off there many times before, so she knew the way well. As she parked on the street and walked up to the door, she hesitated for a moment, unsure of what she might find, before taking a deep breath and knocking.

She waited long enough to wonder if she should try knocking again when the door creaked as it finally opened, it was a man who answered, she recognize him from photos she’d been showed by Clara a few months ago, it’s her father, but he looks nothings like the man she’d seen on the pictures, gone was the gentle smile and kind eyes, the man in front of her looked disheveled, his clothes dirty, and the smell of alcohol and stale air hit Ingrid immediately.

"What do you want?" he slurred.

Ingrid forced herself to stay calm ignoring the worry swirling deep in her stomach. "Where is Clara?"

His bloodshot eyes flickered to Ingrid, narrowing as if he recognized her but couldn’t quite place her. His lips twitched with some emotion she couldn’t quite read before he spat, “She’s not here.” The words felt more like an accusation than an answer, and before Ingrid could react, the door slammed in her face

Ingrid took a couple of steps back bewildering at the man’s reaction, but as she did, she noticed Clara’s car parked just a few meters away and she could recall seeing her shoes scattered on the ground inside just by the door.

Her stomach tightened. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. But despite her concerns, she hesitated. Clara had told her that she was swamped with homework just a couple of days ago, so maybe it was nothing. Maybe she was overreacting.

Reluctantly, Ingrid got back in her car and headed home, though the unease lingered in her gut. Once at her apartment, she was joined by Mapi, who had heard the keys in the lock and quickly got up from the couch always happy to see her girlfriend.

"No nena?" Mapi asked, a soft frown overtaking the smile on her face.

"No... I talked to her father, though," Ingrid replied, trying to sound casual but failing as her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence.

"And?" Mapi asked, standing beside her.

"Not much. He said she wasn’t there," Ingrid sighed, rubbing her forehead. "But her car and shoes were there."

Mapi’s eyes narrowed as she processed this. "What else?" she asked, sensing something more was troubling Ingrid.

Ingrid hesitated before speaking, her voice low. "The house was a mess, Mapi. His clothes were dirty, the floor was a mess... and he smelled like alcohol. Something just doesn’t sit right with me. And Clara’s just been…” she sighs not ending her sentence.

Mapi’s concern grew. "What’s been happening with Clara lately?"

"She’s pulling away from all of us," Ingrid explained, her voice trembling with worry. "She’s not talking as much, not coming to dinners, barely at practice, always leaving in a hurry... I don’t know, Mapi. Something’s wrong." she raises her head looking directly in Mapi’s eyes seemingly begging her to believe her.

Mapi gently took Ingrid’s hand, leading her to the sofa. They sat wrapped in each others’ arms in silence for a moment, Ingrid’s words hanging in the air. Before Mapi finally spoke.

"Why don’t we just text her and see what she says? Maybe she’s really busy with homework." Mapi was still talking, but Ingrid barely heard her. Her mind was racing. Maybe Clara was just busy. Maybe she was hiding something. But what if she wasn’t okay? Ingrid couldn’t take the chance. She grabbed her phone and typed: "Hi Nena, I tried to come say hi, but you weren’t at your house. Hope you’re doing well and hopefully we can reschedule our dinner soon. Love, Ing."

She showed the message to Mapi for approval, then sent it. They both waited anxiously, Ingrid fidgeting with her phone, her nerves growing as the minutes passed. Finally, Ingrid’s phone dinged with a new message.

Ingrid tapped the screen, feeling her heartbeat in her throat. The message loaded, and she froze. It was brief—too brief—and colder than she’d expected. Her stomach churned

"Hola Ingrid, sorry I’m at the library doing homework. Maybe next week for the dinner? See you tomorrow,"

The three of them had gotten close over the past few months, the couple had taken the young girl under their wing and had never denied the parenting allegation when it came to them, they liked watching over her as Clara had proven herself a great teammate and an ever better friend.

Ingrid’s fingers hovered over the phone, anxiety coiling in her stomach. What if Clara was lying? What if she was too afraid to ask for help? And what if-

Ingrid let out a long sigh and showed the text to Mapi, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

"Maybe she’s really busy," Mapi suggested gently, rubbing Ingrid’s back. "We can’t jump to conclusions just yet."

"But what if she’s not okay?" Ingrid states as she stands up, pacing the room. "What if she’s lying to us about something as simple as this? What if she won’t be honest with us when we ask her directly?" she desperately asks

Mapi stood up too and pulled Ingrid into an embrace, holding her close as she rubbed her back soothingly, pressing small kisses on her shoulder. Mapi’s hand found Ingrid’s, and she gently pulled her closer. « I know you’re scared. But we’ll figure this out. If something feels wrong tomorrow at practice, we’ll do whatever we have to do. But we can’t jump to conclusions yet, love. Not yet »

Ingrid nodded, though her worry hadn’t faded. But for now, all she could do was wait and hope she was wrong.

Ingrid lay awake long after Mapi had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling. Her thoughts circled back to Clara, to the weight of her silence, and to the strange sense of dread that had settled in her gut. Something was terribly wrong. And she wasn’t sure they would be able to help before it was too late.

[piftamere]

twelve - hello kitty bandages (wc : 600; cw : blood)

it’s late, he’s sitting on her washing machine, she’s standing between his legs. a pile of blood soaked tissue paper and cotton pads fills the bathroom sink. a spray bottle of disinfectant in hand, the kind that stings. every so often, he winces, and she mumbles some curse word under her breath. she’s not a fucking nurse, he’s an idiot, he should've went to a hospital, it fucking won’t stop bleeding…

he’s being as quiet as he can. things were weird between them since the other night, and what his friends told him has been silently haunting the back of his mind. but after running out of the locker room with a busted lip and blood dripping down his hand and face, he could only think of one place to go. that’s how he ended up here, and even if it hurts, he has no regrets.

she’s focused, biting her lower lip in concentration, and under the dim light coming through the curtains, she looks beautiful.

when she’s done, his face is covered in hello kitty bandages.

she comes back from the kitchen with a bag of frozen peas, holding out her hand. he places his bruised hand in hers.

she holds the bag a few inches away from his knuckles before speaking, “tell me what happened.”

he shakes his head. “you don’t need to know.”

her brows furrow, “don’t try to protect me.”

she’s holding up his gaze. she won’t give up until he explains.

he looks down at his hand. with a sigh, he whispers, “shion was talking shit.”

“about me?”

he nods, he still won’t look into her eyes. “you sure you wanna know?”

“i’m sure.”

“…he called you a slut. said you ‘begged for it’, he asked me if i ‘hit that yet’. i don’t remember what he said after that. i snapped. before i knew it, my fist was in his nose.”

he takes a quick look at her face, she’s lost in thought for a moment.

“thanks… i guess,” she mutters, as she sets the peas on his bruise. she stares in his eyes. she presses down hard on his hand, as if to emphasize her words. “but i’m not a damsel in distress. i don’t need you to defend my honor.”

“especially if you’re gonna get hurt.” she doesn’t say it, at least not with her words, but he reads it in her gaze. then again, maybe he only sees what he wants to see.

he winces, and with chuckle he whispers, “yeah i know.”

hesitantly he reaches for her hand and links his uninjured fingers with hers. his thumb draws soothing circles into her skin. her shoulders relax.

“i hope he looks worse than you.”

“oh trust me, he does.” he smiles, the tear in his lip threatening to bleed again, before continuing, “sorry i won’t look nice on our date tomorrow.”

she shifts her weight on her feet, “don’t worry about that.”

she inches forwards, wrapping her arms around his neck. he rests his head on her shoulder, closing his eyes. he places his hand on the small of her back, holding her closer.

he nuzzles his face into her hair, mumbling, “i should get going,” making no effort to move at all.

“and what? walk back to your place in this state?”

“someone can come pick me up.”

she insists, "did he hit you on the head? don't be an idiot. stay the night."

he chuckles, as he tightens his hold on her, the frozen peas falling on the ground. “okay.”

fun facts

atsumu was too upset about the loss to notice yn sneak away.

the bandages are yachi’s, it's all they had left.

yn's roommates went to celebrate the win but she wasn't in the mood to go with them.

atsumu and yn planned their date before the party and she was debating canceling it.

author's note

i really like this one :)

the men in this universe are lovely

play dumb! - next

taglist : open!

@alpha-mommy69 @bakugouswh0r3 @giocriedpower @itsdragonius @haechansbbg @wondipity @iaminyourfloors @na0koz @from-mae @eusaevi @kr1nqu @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @thechaosoflonging @littlemiyastars @seikamuzu @nymphsdomain @r4veeen @shesabeeler

if you're name is crossed out i couldn't tag you, if it's not fixed in a week i'll remove you sorry :(

[hotgirlbedtimescenarios]

Blurb ideas for joel/dieter + reader— sharing a joint/go out dancing and fucking in the bathroom/going front row in the ga pit to a concert/going on a walk at night to enjoy the stars/staying in a forested cabin with massive windows- fucking at night while it rains HARD (maybe eventually going outside to continue in the rain)/getting finger fucked discretely in public bc joel/dieter just can’t wait

(Feel free to skip/squick out on all these!!)

Thank you for your request! I kind of ran with the blunt sharing and rain idea .... this is what it turned into. I hope you like it 🫶🏻😚

Smoke and Storms

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x reader

Words: >1k

Vibes: sexual tension & smut

Warnings: PinV, smoking, teeny bit of choking/spitting/degradation

———

The sound of the engine purring kept you company as you cruised down the empty streets, the night air cool against your skin. Dieter Bravo sat beside you, his long fingers drumming rhythmically against his thigh, with the faintest hint of a smirk on his lips.

You didn’t speak much at first. Neither of you needed to. The hum of the car, the occasional flicker of the streetlights as you passed them, there was something almost hypnotic about the whole atmosphere. Beyond that was a low rumble of thunder as storm clouds rolled in, further darkening the sky.

"Where to?" you asked.

"I dunno," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "Somewhere quiet." His eyes met yours, flicking to your lips for a split second before he looked back out the window.

"Quiet, huh?" you murmured, your heart suddenly picking up speed. When he’d texted just past midnight for a late-night drive and smoke session, you hadn’t been prepared for the tension in the air to feel so thick. The two of you had been dancing around each other since you met, and tonight, it seems he’s finally making his move.

A few minutes later, he pulled into an abandoned parking lot, the kind of place that smelled faintly of gasoline and old asphalt, completely deserted except for the occasional stray cat or reckless juveniles looking for a place to loiter.

Dieter didn’t hesitate as he parked, rolling down the windows for fresh air then reaching into the glove compartment to pull out a joint and a lighter.

You settled into your seat and watched as he lit the blunt, taking a lazy inhale between his lips then exhaling before passing it to you. You mirrored him, inhaling deeply, eager for the warm calm to wash over you and settle your nerves. Tipping your head back you blew the smoke out between your lips and basked in the warmth blooming under your skin.

Rain began falling lightly at first, misting the windshield, but now it was pouring, the sound of droplets hitting the roof of the car loud enough to drown out any other noise. The world felt closed in, just you and him, the storm raging around you, the occasional flash of distant lightning illuminating his face in sharp, fleeting detail.

"Fuck, it’s coming down hard," you said, after another drag.

Dieter rolled up the windows to shield the interior from the onslaught of rain. His gaze focused on the way the rain was streaking down the windshield. The glow from the dashboard lights softened the sharp angles of his face, giving him a kind of ethereal look—one that made him seem distractingly gorgeous and impossibly close. His eyes flicked to you, dark with a kind of quiet intensity, like he could read your thoughts.

"Yeah," he said, his voice husky, as he took the joint and inhaled deeply, his lips curling around it with a sort of careless elegance. “The rain’s... nice.”

You nodded, not sure whether he meant the rain or something else entirely. The tension in the air was thickening with each passing second, the closeness of the car, the intimacy of the night, the way his body shifted ever so slightly toward yours. You could almost feel the heat radiating off him, even through the humid and smoke filled air.

For a moment, it felt like time slowed. The storm raged on around you, but in that small space between you, it was quiet, expectant, like the calm before something inevitable. Your heart began pounding in your ears as he leaned toward you, closing the distance.

“You ever think about… what it would be like?” he asked suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper, the words hanging in the wet air between you.

You didn’t need him to finish. You knew exactly what he meant. The sexual tension, thick as the storm clouds above, had been there from the very beginning.

“I think about it all the time,” you whispered back, your breath catching as you looked up at him.

Dieter’s eyes darkened, his lips slightly parted as if he were about to speak, but he didn’t. Instead he stamped out the butt of the blunt on the tiny ash tray in his cup holder. Then, he finally came for you.

He leaned across the center console and reached for you, his hand cupping the back of your head and tangling in your hair as the other found your waist. His lips hovered near yours, his breath mingling with yours, before he whispered, “I’ve wanted to taste these pretty little lips for so fuckin’ long,” he growls.

And then, just as his mouth crashed into yours, the rain hit harder, pelting down in sheets, lightning flashed and thunder rumble but the two of you barely noticed.

His hands roamed to your back, pulling you even closer, and you whimpered into his open mouth, making space for his tongue to slip in and tangle with yours.

The rain kept coming down in torrents, so loud now that it felt like you were trapped in your own little world, everything else washed away. His hands slid to your waist, then lower, kneading against your flesh as he slipped his hands beneath your shirt.

Everything about him, his, breath, his scent—smoke and something deeper—surrounding you as you lost yourself in the kiss, in the moment, in the storm, and in him.

Before long the two of you scramble into the back seat, desperate to finally give in to your body’s desires.

Your clothes fly off quickly, his hand expertly unhooking your bra and tossing it away as you fumble to untie his sweatpants, eager to free the huge bulge you can see from its confines.

“Fuckin hell” he swears, “knew those tits would be perfect for me.” Beneath his hungry gaze and exposed to the night, your nipples peak with anticipation.

His mouth finds them, sucking one into his warmth between his lips and swirls around it with his tongue as he tweaks the other one gently between his fingers.

A gasp of pleasure escapes your mouth.

As he kisses up and down your body you admire and explore his naked body as well. You reach for his already dripping cock, wrapping your hands around it and pumping it eagerly.

Both of you high on lust make quick time of lying back against the seats, with him on top of you. Dieter slides his cock between your folds, rocking back and forth, slipping his length across you, bumping into your bundle of nerves at the top and covering himself in your slick.

“Now” you beg, “please.”

“Please what” he tuts, slapping the head of his cock against your entrance, sending a jolt through your body.

“Fuck” you groan, and rake your nails down his back, sending shivers down his spine. “fill me up already goddmanit.”

Dieter growls, he doesn’t need to be told twice. He plunges into your wet heat, all the way to the hilt in the first go.

He sets a steady, brutal pace, shaking the car back and forth as he pounds into you. Your bodies slicken with sweat and the heat radiating off of them and the warmth of your breaths fog the windows of the car.

“Open up” he commands with a hand around your throat, caressing your jaw with his thumb.

Grateful for the cover of night and curtain of rain shielding the world of your depravity, you open your mouth, and he spits onto your tongue.

You swallow it gladly.

“Atta girl”, he praises.

Lost in the haze of your high and between each other’s bodies you aren’t sure how long it’s been before pleasure builds to a crescendo. Your legs begin to shake and muscles pull taught as Dieter slips a thumb between you, rubbing at your clit as he thrusts.

“Let me have it baby” he grunts, “come on, cum all over my cock.”

Ecstasy explodes, your body convulses around his as you cum, pulling him into his own orgasm. He pulls out quickly, his chest heaving with staggered breath as he pumps his spend onto your stomach.

After you both come down from the moment and catch your breath, you settle beside each other, sprawled out in the backseat. Through the windows you see the rain begin to thin, now sprinkling lightly against the car and pavement outside before quitting completely. Dieter cracks the windows, allowing a cool breeze to flutter through, cooling your sweat soaked skin and airing out the car.

You snuggle into the crook of his arm, content with the world, and the two of you ride out your high together, watching as the skies clear and stars twinkle in the night sky.

[littlestarbigsky]

outsiders week - johnny

@outsidersweek

in which we explore johnny’s first time meeting the curtis family ;) he has some anxiety in the beginning but it’s all okay… mama curtis i am your BIGGEST fan <33

gang i’m really proud of this one pls be nice to her❤️‍🩹

johnny realized he had made a mistake the second he stepped off the bus. the first few days of kindergarten had gone alright, and he had gotten onto the right bus and gotten off at the right stop to get home, but it had been a long day and he was tired. it didn’t help that his father had kept him up half the night shouting at him over his coloring homework. he was only six, how was he supposed to be able to do this all by himself?

he’d zoned out for a few minutes and lost track of what stop they were at, whether they had already passed his or how many more stops there were before they weren’t in his neighborhood anymore. he got off at the very next one, realizing that he wasn’t in the right place and even though all of the houses were vaguely familiar, he couldn’t remember where to turn or how to get to somewhere he recognized.

he knew his mama wouldn’t come looking for him, she thought he was too old to be getting lost, and she didn’t have to worry about feeding him if he didn’t come home in time for dinner.

he stood, stick straight and paralyzed where he was in fear, his blunt fingernails digging into his palms. as hard as he fought them, tears welled in his eyes and fell down his cheeks. he would have to get all the tears out before he got home, his parents wouldn’t be very kind about him getting lost, especially after they had explained the routine to him so many times.

“hey, is this your stop?” a voice called from behind him.

johnny didn’t answer. no, it wasn’t his stop. what if they were mean to him and tried to steal his backpack or tackled him. it wouldn’t be hard, the doctor had told his parents that he was still really small for his age. so instead of turning around and answering, johnny stayed still. he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to do anything different if he wanted to.

“hello?” the voice asked again, but it hadn’t raised or gotten meaner. “did you hear?”

johnny stayed glued to the spot until another boy suddenly popped in front of him, causing him to jump back. he could feel his heart pounding in his throat and his stomach turning to lead. he was lost and now someone was gonna pound him for it, just like mama said, just like dad had threatened to if he made a fuss about it. he braced himself for a blow, would it be to his stomach, maybe his face? what if they did it the easy way out and just tackled him right off the bat?

the punch never came.

“hey,” the voice said again. “i’m not talkin’ to another deaf fella, am i?”

johnny opened his eyes. the face in front of him didn’t look mean at all. as a matter of fact, the boy in front of him was smiling, his brown eyes twinkling in the late august sunshine. he was wearing a backpack, too, and if johnny remembered correctly, they had the same teacher at school.

johnny shook his head, and the other boy sighed deeply, “thank goodness, i keep accidentally talkin’ to that old lady over on center street who can’t hear no more. mama says i really oughta be more considerate about that.”

johnny didn’t know what to say, his feet still felt rooted to the spot.

the boy tilted his head, not unlike the golden retrievers the soc families walked in the park, “you… you can talk, right?”

johnny nodded aggressively and still didn’t say a word, but with every word the boy spoke, he could feel the tension in his shoulders easing away.

“well… what’s your name?” he asked.

johnny had to open and close his mouth a few times before he could squeak out, “johnny cade.”

the boy did the same head tilt that he had done before, and johnny knew he had spoken so fast and so high-pitched that he had missed a couple of vital sounds in his name. oh, now he would have to say it again-

“wait!” the boy straightened up excitedly. “you’re in my class, right? aren’t you johnny cade?”

he nodded, and for the first time since stepping off the bus, johnny smiled.

“my name’s sodapop curtis,” the boy said proudly. “even says so on my birth certificate, but my family calls me soda.”

johnny had to stifle a giggle at the name.

“don’t laugh, sodapop isn’t any funnier than johnny cade,” soda said sadly, but when johnny went still again, soda quickly added, “but, you know, there’s nothing wrong with johnny cade. that’s just something my mama told me to say if anyone gave me a hard time about my name.”

“your mama sure sounds nice,” johnny couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of his mouth, and he immediately wanted to clap a hand to his mouth as if that would put them back in so he had never said them.

soda’s eyes lit up, “she sure is! you know, she’d probably love you, you’re nice and quiet. she hasn’t got one kid that ain’t a big chatterbox. you can meet her if you wanna! we live just over there.”

johnny’s eyes followed to where soda was pointing, landing on a house that seemed rather worse for wear, but in their neighborhood, that was pretty average, anyways. still, there were toys in the yard and the front door was held open by a painted rock. it seemed so welcoming, and soda’s mama had sounded so nice.

johnny still shook his head, “i have to get home.”

“oh, that’s right,” soda bent down to tie one of his shoes. “i’ve never seen you get off here, do you live around here too?”

“sort of,” johnny felt his cheeks getting hot. “i lost track of the stops and… i don’t know… it’s alright. i’ll find it.”

soda seemed to be getting even more excited, “mama can help you if you need! i can bring you over to meet her and she can help you get home!”

johnny thought he might cry, or maybe he’d be sick. he wasn’t sure which one would be worse, nor was he sure if it would be out of relief or fear. he tried not to think about it as he fell into step next to soda.

“mama! i brought someone!” soda called as he let johnny into the house, letting the screen door slam shut behind him.

a blonde, kind-faced woman stuck her head out of the kitchen to see her son walking in. before johnny could get a good look at soda’s mama, another little boy came sprinting into the room. he had fuzzy, light brown hair, which was all johnny could catch a glimpse of before the boy had jumped on soda, hugging him as tight as he could. johnny had to laugh as he took in the little boy, he was probably a couple of years younger than they were. he was wearing a pair of blue swim trunks that were obviously too big, judging by how tightly they were tied, and he had a smile that could sink a thousand ships. he opened startlingly grey eyes to blink at johnny over soda’s shoulder and tilted his head in the same way his brother had.

“this is johnny cade,” soda explained, setting the boy down. “he’s my new friend from the bus! johnny cade, this is my little brother, ponyboy.”

“hi,” ponyboy said shyly, wringing his hands together nervously.

“hi,” johnny squeaked out.

“hi,” came a new, warmer voice. johnny’s head whipped up and landed on the woman who had poked her head out of the kitchen.

up close, johnny could only describe her as a sunflower come to life. she had curly blonde hair and deep brown eyes, just like soda. everything about her radiated warmth and comfort, and johnny felt safe in a way he never had before.

“you’re johnny?” she asked, and johnny nodded. “it’s so nice to meet you, sweetheart.”

johnny felt like he was supposed to say something, but he was saved the trouble when another boy walking into the room, taller and obviously older, and wearing his own pair of swim trunks.

“pony, i told you, we have to wait for soda before we can go!” he was calling.

“soda’s home, darry!” pony cried excitedly.

soda’s mama got down on her knees so she was level with johnny and smiled at him and soda, “ponyboy and darry were about to go play in the sprinkler outside. how would you two feel about going with them?”

soda’s eyes lit up, “of course! lemme go change!”

“i-” johnny looked down at his clothes and back up, feeling shattered.

she looked over at her eldest, “oh, right. darry, could you go grab something for johnny to wear?”

darry nodded and all of the boys disappeared into a room down the hallway, leaving him alone with their mother

johnny felt himself wanting to speak and it felt wrong, he didn’t know where the want had come from. there was a smile on his face, which maybe felt even more alien. he clearly looked excited, but the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. he had to get home. he was here because soda said his mama could help him get directions to get back home. this wasn’t his mama. it wasn’t like his would care when he got home…

“you think that’s an okay plan? gotta keep you kids busy while i make a snack,” she asked him, sitting down on the floor in front of him.

johnny couldn’t open his mouth to ask her how to get home. he knew he had to, and that his dad may beat his head in for getting home late, or maybe not even notice at all, but he wanted to stay. he wanted to have fun with soda.

he decided he had to be brave, though, “i… i got off at the wrong bus stop. i don’t know how to get home…”

“that’s alright, honey, do you want me to help you get home?” she asked him kindly. johnny realized where soda and ponyboy had gotten their head tilt from. “or would you like to stay and play here for a little while and then we can take you home? it’s up to you.”

his stomach turned over, things had never been up to him, “…don’t wanna bug you.”

“you’re not buggin’ me!” she smiled, and it was like johnny was being bathed in sunlight. “darry and soda bring their friends over here all the time! you are welcome here as long as you want to stay, sweetheart.”

johnny felt something loosen in his chest, something that felt like hope bubbling in his stomach.

“so,” she asked him again. “how would you like or stay here and play with the boys?”

johnny nodded excitedly, and she ruffled his hair gently. for the first time that day, he didn’t care what his parents would say when he got home or that he had messed up so terribly getting off at the wrong stop.

soda came back into the room with darry, who handed johnny a swimsuit and ushered him to the bathroom to change. it didn’t fit him perfectly, he actually got the distinct impression that it might have been ponyboy’s, but it would do just fine. he folded his clothes up and held them to his chest as he quietly left the bathroom.

“here, you give me those and i’ll run them through the wash, i’ve already got a load going,” mrs. curtis took the bundle from him.

soda sprinted over, grabbed his hand, and hauled him out of the house at a run. darry had already gotten the sprinkler going outside in the yard and ponyboy was running around, trying to avoid the spray as it tilted back and forth.

“come on, johnny!” soda pulled him forward and they both jumped directly over the sprinkler.

they lost track of how long they had been playing, making up games and running through the water to their heart’s content until all of them looked like they had just climbed out of a swimming pool. johnny’s cheeks were aching from smiling so big for so long, his stomach tight from laughing so hard.

it was at least an hour before mrs. curtis came outside with an armful of towels to collect them, shouting that she had a snack ready for them. all of her sons ran towards her, grabbing a towel and sitting down on the porch to munch on the sandwich tray she had left out. johnny lingered, his arms wrapping around his middle.

she caught his eye and waved him over, “you, too, johnny! c’mere.”

he walked over to her nervously, and she knelt down in front of him and used the last towel in her hands to dry some of the water from his face and hair and wrapped it tightly around his shoulders.

“don’t want a sweet little thing like you to get cold. now, go eat something, i’ll send the leftovers home with you,” she smiled, pushing his dripping hair back and out of his face. johnny didn’t normally like it when people called him little, but he didn’t seem to mind when she said it.

“thank you!” johnny beamed, waddling over to the rest of the boys munching on their snack and laughing together, their eyes dancing as they let the sun dry them.

[mymegrokosmos]

biker wonwoo brainrot anyone? just a quick mention. i was left unsupervised at 4am again. enjoy.

if anyone had told you that wonwoo was just a silly little nerd when you'd first met, you might not have believed them. that is to say, if this grown up version of your boyfriend was the one you'd met nearly ten years ago now. unfortunately for them, the wonu you knew wore big wire-rimmed glasses, lived in mis-matched sweatsuits, went through novels like water and spent most of his free time in the spare bedroom you'd helped him turn into a gaming den.

The version of jeon wonwoo you knew dog-eared the pages of all his books, scribbled notes in margins of anything and everything, liked to lay sprawled out on your lap while you watched romance kdramas together and loved when you ran your fingers through his hair. your boyfriend was often quiet and when he did speak his voice was always soft, even when he tossed out sarcastc remarks sharp enough to cut glass with that mischievous little cat smile of his. he was the definition of a homebody and an introvert.

he had walked into the busy coffee shop where you were working on a paper during finals week and asked if the seat across from you at your small table of two was taken because every other seat in the place was full. you'd seen him every week after that. it had taken him a month to actually speak to you and two to make small conversations a regular thing between you.

despite all that, he did have a bit of a hidden bravery about him. you wouldn't call it adrenaline junkie behaviour but he wasn't scared of a lot of things. where mingyu tended to jump at his own shadow wonwoo was often a steady, practial, stable person it took a lot to throw off balance. he expected everything. prepared for every scenario. it made him hard to surprise, or pull one over on, and often you were grateful for the constistency he provided.

so, when he pulled up outside your office on his motorbike and made a little show of hopping off to come kiss you, you couldn't help but shake your head a little.

"showoff."

"why shouldn't i be?"

you couldn't care less if any of your coworkers was watching as you let wonwoo store your purse in the compartment under the seat and, with a familiarity that came with lots of years of practice at it, strapped on the helmet he handed you. maybe you stared a little as he climbed back onto the bike, who could blame you when those jeans did great things for his ass and the leather jacket only served to highlight how broad his shoulders had gotten since he'd started joining gyu and cheol in the gym more often.

no one could see you ogling him from behind the tinted visor but he didn’t need to see your eyes to know they were on him. the smirk he flashed you before sliding his own helmet's visor back down spoke volumes.

you didn't waste time swinging a leg over the back of the bike and hopping on behind him. and if your grip around his waist was a little tighter than usual, well maybe it would deter that creep from accounting who you definitely hadn't told wonwoo about to stop flirting with you every time you stayed late and got stuck taking the elevator down to the lobby with him again.

if he was watching, and you couldn’t dismiss the possibility that your boyfriend had planned his timing just right to ensure that he was, you'd leave him wondering about just what exactly it was that wonwoo did for a living. let him make up his own scenarios. you were kind of partial to the race car driver guess if you had to pick one, or maybe the pit crew suggestion, that one had made you both laugh last week.

it was a privilege to know you saw a side of your large, intimidating, softie of a boyfriend that not many other people outside of his close friends and family did. surely you could gatekeep that part of him just a little, right?

[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ the pumpkin reaper

epilogue

previous parts:

1 2 3

in which you and reid are visiting your brother in hospital after he tried to commit a suicide

tw: mention of a suicide attempt

contents: spender reidxfem!bau!reader, it's an epilogue, please check the previous parts if you missed them!

words: 3.1k

You couldn’t believe those words came out of your mouth, but they did. And what’s more, they were sincere.

It was late in the evening when you were heading back to the office in Quantico. No case ever ended with just catching the unsub – after that came the long hours of report writing and paperwork. After everything you’d been through, the team almost forbade you from taking on that task. Instead, they insisted that you go straight home and get some proper rest.

You rolled your eyes and nodded, like a child whose mother insists they zip up their jacket. Hotch was nowhere to be seen, Morgan was listening to music with his eyes closed, Emily and JJ were absorbed in their conversation, and Rossi… well, Rossi was doing whatever it is Rossi does. So, you reached for the case files and tucked yourself away in a quiet corner of the jet. You wanted to go over everything again, even though you knew that as soon as you saw Logan's photo, all the unpleasant memories would come rushing back with relentless force.

 But before you could open the folder to the first page, someone simply took it from your hands. You looked up to see none other than Reid—blue shirt, sleeves rolled halfway up, a look of perpetual sleeplessness, his usual worry, and… joy. Small, but noticeable.

You, too, were almost disturbingly happy. Escaping death filled you with a mood akin to the high after smoking two joints back-to-back. Of course, it would only last for a brief moment; by tomorrow, you’d likely be tossing and turning in bed, plagued by nightmares. A familiar pattern.

"I don’t even want to see you trying to work right now," Spencer said, taking a seat next to you and placing the folder beside him, just out of your reach. Or at least far enough that you’d have to put in some serious effort to grab it—and your sore ribs had no intention of letting you do that.

"Then what do you suggest I do?" you asked, rolling your eyes. "I don't want to sleep."

"Kafka on the Shore?" he suggested.

"I've already read it. By the way, what was the deal with the soldiers and the hut in the woods at the very end?"

"Well, that's an element that leaves a lot of room for personal interpretation."

"Thanks for the explanation, that told me a lot," you chuckled. You pulled your knees to your chest, trying to get more comfortable in your spot, but the movement triggered a wave of pain. You hissed.

“They should have kept you in the hospital for at least one night,” Reid said, suddenly straightening up. “Do you need anything? There might be some ice around… or I could just leave, and you could lie down…”

“No. You’re staying,” you decided firmly. He raised an eyebrow at your abrupt response. You quickly followed up with an explanation. “Well, I’ve finished reading my book, and you took my files. So now you’re responsible for my potential boredom. It’s your duty to entertain me.”

“Yeah” he agreed with a smirk “It’s my duty” 

"So, how do you plan to do that? Are you going to dance? Sing? Juggle?"

"I can't dance or sing, and I don't have anything to juggle. Is it enough if we just talk? Or is that too common of an entertainment for you?"

You pretended to think for a moment.

"Fine, I guess."

"Then what are you planning to do when you get back?"

"Visit Jeremy."

"Oh, right, sorry…”

"Come on," you interrupted, waving your hand. A moment of silence followed as you hesitated before speaking again. However, you remembered that you had decided to stop staying silent about your worries and problems, at least in his presence. "It's just... it really stresses me out. I don't know how I should talk to him, I'm afraid I'll panic when I see him..."

Spencer cleared his throat before answering. 

“That... can really be tough,” he said, not bothering to lie or reassure you that everything would go perfectly. “But hey, remember that he’s probably looking forward to seeing his big sister. Even if you start talking about something you think is silly, he’ll be happy just to have you there.”

He made you smile, though the corners of your eyes began to gently dampen. You wiped them discreetly, not wanting to burst into tears on the jet.

"I hope you're right. And I hope he doesn't hate me for not being there for him..."

You stopped, feeling him take your hand. You realized you had been clenching it into a fist for quite some time.

"I don't know Jeremy, so I can only guess how he'll react. But I'm sure of one thing—he definitely doesn't hate you."

For a long time, you simply stared at your hand in his warm grip. Your fingers relaxed, releasing the tension that had been between them, becoming limp yet yearning for the touch.

"Spencer," you said suddenly, taking a deep breath. "I don't know if I can ask you this... but... you've been there for me this whole time and... okay, I’ll understand if you say no, but... would you maybe... want to visit him with me? I don't know if I can do it alone."

You waited for his response, your heart beating faster with each passing moment. Maybe it was too much? Maybe you shouldn’t be asking him for something like this; maybe it crossed the line of your acquaintance? Just a year ago... no, even a week ago, you never would have imagined you’d be begging anyone for something like this. You would have forced yourself to do it alone, ignoring your fear.

He simply smiled.

"Of course, you can ask me to do that. And I'm glad I'll be able to accompany you."

*

The sound of quickly pressed keys echoed as you gave the hospital receptionist your brother’s last name.

The stark whiteness of the place and the blinding, intense light felt like a scene straight out of a horror movie. The thought of seeing Jeremy soon made you tremble. You had so many questions for him, including why he even tried to take his own life, but you knew you couldn’t ask them just yet. He didn’t need an interrogation to satisfy your curiosity; he needed support.

You were so overwhelmed at the thought of seeing him that you shifted impatiently from foot to foot. You felt stressed but also excited. After all, he was your little brother, and you missed him. Standing beside you, Reid smiled slightly, noticing your behavior. If you were hurting him by squeezing his hand as tightly as you could, he didn’t let it show.

"Who are you to the patient?" the receptionist asked.

"His sister."

"And you?" she turned to Spencer.

"A frie—" he began, probably intending to say friend.

"Fiancé," you interrupted, quickly offering a word that began with the same letter. You worried that if the woman found out he wasn’t connected to you or Jeremy, she might ask him to stay in the waiting room. You didn’t expect him to go into Jeremy's room with you, but you wanted the reassurance that he’d be right outside, not on the other side of the hospital.

Reid pierw spojrzał na ciebie jak na wariatkę. Próbowałaś mu niemo przekazać, aby włączył się do twojej desperackiego przedstawienia. Na szczęście, niesamowicie szybko zrozumiał o co chodzi. 

“Zgadza się, narzeczonym. Basically, mężem. Bierzemy ślub…jutro” zaimprowizował, kiwając głową z takim zaangażowaniem, jakby sam wierzył w te wyjaśnienia. “Cóż, w zasadzie to nie jutro, a za dwa dni, ponieważ jutro niedziela, a my jesteśmy katolikami. W naszej religii zniechęca się do zawierania związków małżeńskich w ten dzień, ponieważ jest to dzień Mszy Świętej…”

Reid first looked at you like you were crazy. You tried to silently signal him to join in on your desperate act. Luckily, he caught on incredibly fast.

"That's right, fiancé. Basically, husband. We're getting married... tomorrow," he improvised, nodding with such conviction that he almost seemed to believe it himself. "Well, actually, not tomorrow, but the day after, because tomorrow is Sunday, and we’re Catholic. In our religion, 

“Darling,” you gritted through your teeth, seeing the receptionist’s confused expression.

“In any case, I’m very close to the patient,” he emphasized.

If he said anything more, you would’ve nudged him with your elbow.

“Well… in that case… the patient is in room number fourteen. It’s that way…” She pointed in the right direction. You thanked her with an overly wide smile. “And… congratulations.”

“God bless you,” Reid said as he waved goodbye.

You quickly turned around, so she wouldn’t see your burst of laughter. As soon as you were out of the receptionist's sight, you hit him on the back so hard that a woman with a cast on her arm almost dropped her coffee. He laughed, and you awkwardly tried to hide how much the whole situation amused you as well.

“If I had let you say one more word, she wouldn’t have let either of us in,” you complained. “She would’ve thought we were freaks. Religious freaks. Or maybe point us to the psychiatric ward.”

“Hey, I’m not the best actor. You should know that,”

“I didn’t know. I’ll remember for next time, though I’m not sure if there will ever be another situation where you’ll need to pretend to be my husband.”

"Fiancé," he corrected. "You decided that yourself."

"Basically a husband. You decided that yourself."

You didn’t say anything more, only grabbed the edge of his coat sleeve to slow his pace. You were standing outside room 14, right in front of the door. You didn’t even peek inside; you weren’t ready to see Jeremy just yet.

“I need one more minute,” you whispered.

“Take all the time you need,” he replied gently.

 The playful mood that had accompanied you both was gone. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you stood on tiptoe and began adjusting his poorly tied scarf. 

“Sorry,” you muttered under your breath. “It’s been bothering me since I saw you.”

"I'll wait for you here, okay?" he asked quietly. Because you were so close to him, he barely had to raise his voice at all. "Jeremy doesn’t know me, I don’t want to just show up unannounced..."

“Are you coming in or what?”

You turned around, startled, to see none other than Jeremy. Lying on the hospital bed, poking at a container of chocolate pudding with a spoon, and most importantly, awake. 

At first, you were surprised, but soon emotion took control of your body, and you ran to him as if he were about to disappear.

"Oh my God, I can finally see you..." His shirt, which you hugged tightly, muffled your words.

"The pudding spilled on your jacket."

"I don't care."

He chuckled into your hair, holding you tighter. You stayed like that for a moment, desperately holding back tears. If even one had surfaced, you would’ve fallen apart like a child.

ou pulled away after a long time, immediately noticing that his eyes were also filled with tears. However, he quickly wiped them away with his hand. Still, he was a sixteen-year-old boy, and crying in front of his sister felt like public humiliation for him, a shame that would last forever. You tried to do everything you could to avoid looking at his wrists. Both hands were wrapped in bandages, and from the conversation with your father, you learned that they had put in a lot of stitches. You focused on looking at his face—young, similar to yours, with the same blue eyes.

"Are parents visiting you?"

He shrugged.

"Father, surprisingly, more often. Mother drops by irregularly and talks about strange things. Apparently, our neighbor's dog has worms, and it really pisses her off. My mother, not the neighbor. Though, probably the neighbor too..."

You didn't know why you started crying.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." you mumbled, your words slurring. “I should have gotten here earlier, and I didn’t. I regret so much that I didn’t, I’m sorry. I should have been here the moment you woke up.”

He didn’t say anything, letting you lament. Finally, you wiped away the last tear, then apologized to him about eighteen more times. You sat together in silence for a moment, busying yourself with wiping the dirty jacket. He wasn’t joking about the pudding.

“How are you feeling?”

He shrugged.

“Tolerable, I guess. By the way, who was that guy who came in with you?”

You turned toward the entrance, but Spencer was nowhere to be seen. He must have sat on one of the chairs outside the room, and knowing him, he’d probably started reading some medical brochure.

“A friend,” you replied briefly. “I hope it doesn’t bother you that I brought him... It’s just…”

You didn’t know how to explain that you couldn’t have made it here without support.

“He works for the FBI too?” he asked, suddenly curious. “Would he tell me more about the job than you do?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pretending to be dead serious.

“I won’t let him tell my little brother any graphic details.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“To me, you are, and always will be.”

He looked like he was holding back from sticking his tongue out at you.

“Call him,” he asked. “I’d love to meet your friend. Is he a friend, or a friend?”

“Jeremy, you’re ridiculous…”

But you fulfilled his request. Spencer stared at you with wide eyes when you told him that your brother wanted to see him. As he entered the room, he almost tripped over... probably his own feet, since there was nothing else to trip on. And that’s how the rest of the visit went, the three of you together. Jeremy alternated between complaining about the hospital food and bombarding Reid with questions about absolutely everything related to being a profiler. He had always been fascinated by it, but after everything that had happened to you, you couldn’t, with a clear conscience, recommend that job to him. Spencer had been explaining everything in detail to him, and for the next hour, you almost felt like an intruder in their private conversation, which amused you instead of offending you.

Spencer left a moment before you, giving you a chance to say goodbye to your brother privately. When you finally released him from your embrace, promising you'd come back tomorrow, the same nurse who had spoken with you at the reception entered the room. She was checking Jeremy’s condition as you headed for the exit.

“Wait,” she suddenly said. “I think your husband left his scarf.”

She held up the purple scarf, indeed Reid's. You were about to thank her and take it when you noticed Jeremy’s mouth hanging open, and with horror, you realized what she'd said.

"Forgive me, dear sister, but what the fuck?”

*

“So, he’s convinced that we had a secret, spontaneous wedding that you didn’t tell him about?”

“Yeah. Something like that.”

In reality, Jeremy had probably realized immediately that there was a misunderstanding, but he just couldn’t pass up the chance to tease you. He would likely bring it up again for the rest of your life. You were also worried that you'd get an angry phone call from your mother asking why you didn’t mention your “wedding,” but overall, you were content with how the meeting went.

You both walked together in an unknown direction, neither of you sure when you should part ways or if you even wanted to. You didn’t want to, but you had no idea about him. The weather was much better than in the town where you had spent the last few days. The fewer trees meant that autumn wasn’t as pronounced. It was only present in the chilly, gusty wind.

"If you don't have any plans, how about going out to eat?" you suggested.

"Sure." Reid agreed immediately, and the corner of your mouth twitched at the speed of his response. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Well, anything. There's a good restaurant on the corner of this street... Oh, God, I just remembered, I owe someone dinner as a thank you."

"Dinner? As a thank you?" he repeated with a strange look on his face. Before he could say anything else, he caught himself and snorted. "Interesting. Just curious, is it someone I know?"

"Oh, you know him." You continued with a barely suppressed smile. "Do you remember James Rivas? The forest ranger?"

Reid literally stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.

"Dinner? With him?"

"That's right. Well, he saved my life, so I guess I owe him that."

You were shocked when you learned how your team knew where to find you after you were kidnapped. The bunker Osborne took you to was unknown to the local authorities, hidden deep in the forest, far from any paths. When the rumor spread through the town about who was responsible for the murders and that an FBI agent had been kidnapped, the forest ranger showed up at the police station. He revealed that he knew the place where you might have been held because, as a child, he used to go there with friends, including Logan Osborne.

But of course, you had no intention of taking him to dinner. You just wanted to laugh at Reid's reaction.

"You're absolutely not owed anything by him!" he blurted out with emotion, a hint of anger in his voice. "If he'd only remembered that he knew about the existence of some bunker, you wouldn't have been kidnapped in the first place. You wouldn't have had to go through that hell, and I wouldn't have been losing my mind the whole time, not knowing what happened to you. Plus, have you forgotten what an awful person he is? He's arrogant, self-absorbed, and full of self-admiration—do you really want to have dinner with someone like that...are you laughing?"

He furrowed his brow, completely confused by your reaction.

“God, Reid, I was just joking! I’d rather die than spend another hour with that jerk. Especially voluntarily,” you explained, laughing between words. Something in his remark made you smirk. “Were you really losing your mind when I was kidnapped? “

“You’re impossible," he snorted. “Where’s that restaurant?”

“Wait, don’t change the topic and answer my question”

He simply looked at you, tilting his head to the side.

 “Isn’t it obvious?”

taglist: @miriamnox @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @nightfullofparadox

thank you everyone for reading <3

[pommpuriinn]

SUPPORTIVE JOOHYUNG

synopsis- Yeonjun’s mixtape is out and it’s taking the world by storm and Joohyung right by his side along with the other members. Joohyung knew she was always going to be by Yeonjun’s side during his big moment like he was when she released her album.

a/n- life is quite blue right now and I hope reading this could distract for a bit because writing this helped me keep my mind off this stressful moment. Take lots of care and be safe to all the women, children, people of color, lgbtq+, and immigrants.

𝞋𝞎 started when Yeonjun was just started filming his mv during the late hours of the night. Kai and Joohyung decided to visit and bring food for everyone. Yeonjun was really surprised seeing the two since he hasn’t seen the members since the morning and filming an mv without his members felt weird. “Wow, I can’t believe you two came!” He immediately pulled Kai and Joohyung into a big hug. He almost felt emotional seeing his members supporting him. “We brought food for everyone too.” Kai started handing out the bag to the staff, who instantly thanked him and Joohyung.

“You look so handsome!” Joohyung squealed while squishing his cheeks together. The sight was like a mother visiting her child at school. “Thank you.” Yeonjun shyly smiled. “I’m so proud of you jjunie. You worked so hard for this and…” Yeonjun and Kai could see her eyes getting glossy, meaning she was about to cry. “No!” Kai came to her side rubbing her back in comfort. “I’m just s-so happy for you.” Her tears fell. “Noona you're making me cry.” Yeonjun’s emotions got the best of him and he started crying with Joohyung. Thankfully their support puppy Kai was there to ease their emotions with a hug.

𝞋𝞎 Joohyung would try to come to the music bank promotions keeping Yeonjun’s nerves down, along with bring Bibi and Poki. Which was a big help calming Yeonjun down. Before going on stage Joohyung would give Yeonjun little pep talks and kiss both his cheeks. It was a very endearing gesture that gave Yeonjun lots of strength. Right after sending Yeonjun off Joohyung would run to her seat out with moas, she even brought her moa bong quickly turning it on ready to do the fanchant.

𝞋𝞎 Joohyung isn’t really one to do TikTok videos unless it’s a must for comeback season, but for Yeonjun she immediately accepted the offered. Yeonjun was surprised because when their staff asks Joohyung to do a dance challenge with other idols or by herself she instantly declines. He didn’t even have to teach her the dance because Joohyung paid close attention to the dance while he was practicing, and yes it was the version that includes the split.

𝞋𝞎 since Yeonjun’s mixtape album has a little figure of himself Joohyung has been showing it off constantly. Through photos with the figure in different places, attaching it on her bag with her other little keychains, and clicking it on her pant loop letting it be a part of her fit.

𝞋𝞎 whatever moas ask Joohyung want her favorite song is in the moment she would always say, “Ggum by Choi Yeonjun of course.”

𝞋𝞎 while filming the mv for ‘over the moon’ Joohyung has to do solo shots and couldn’t go to one of Yeonjun’s performances, but that didn’t stop her from sending him a text;

sorry I couldn’t come today but I already know you’re going to do great jjunie☺️ fighting love u~

𝞋𝞎 during that time the whole group was really busy so Joohyung would just stay at the dorms during comeback preparations since it’s easier that everyone is together. Despite being busy she had enough time to make Yeonjun his favorite homemade meal. Of course she made enough for all the members otherwise they would have started fighting.

𝞋𝞎 moas made tweets about how Joohyung was truly like a mother watching her kid achieve his dreams with the loving look in her eyes while watching Yeonjun perform. Another moment that really made moas melt was during pre recording Yeonjun brought Joohyung up on stage to talk with moas. “Before everything went live Joohyung sent me a gift with a letter attached and it was such a heartfelt letter that I was crying by the end of it. I’m honestly so thankful to have someone like noona by my side and in our team. Moa please always support and cheer our noona on.” Joohyung pouted while hugging Yeonjun’s side, as the room cheered.

[bluestsdays]

devon can’t stop the memories that flood her mind as they stand here together, in a home that was once theirs. can’t help but remember how it felt to come home with him after a long night out, tired and far too drunk, his arms wrapped around her as their laughter bounced off the walls, stumbling to their room to help each other carefully peel their clothes off before sliding comfortably into bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms. or how they would make breakfast together on slow weekend mornings, drinking coffee in bed and spilling half of it on the sheets, or evenings spent listening to him read to her, staying up too late talking about anything and everything. maybe that’s why she couldn’t fathom leaving this place, despite his absence— so much good happened here. there was so much love embedded in these walls, in each creak of the floorboards, in every piece of furniture they picked out together. and now she could almost trick herself into believing they had gone back in time, that this was just another one of those nights, where she could just lead him to their bedroom, kissing all the way there, but it wasn’t. or at least, it shouldn’t be. despite how her lips tingle to kiss him again and again, she knows they’ve already crossed a line. but hearing him echo just how much he missed her, too, blurs it even further in her mind. that always happened with him, didn’t it ? he was the exception to every rule, the only person she would do absolutely anything for, if he asked, no matter the consequences. it’s intoxicating, being this close, kissing him, touching him, feeling the warmth of his body against her own one more time. even if he wasn’t technically hers anymore, god, was she so fucking lucky to have him at all. remains close as she smiles up at him, pressing a soft peck to his cheek, lingering there for a moment. “ feels real to me, too, ” she whispers, so real that it’s almost visceral— her senses were overrun, her brain filled only with thoughts of them and the life they once shared, her heart overwhelmed with love and care. and it’s enough, just being here with him like this, but she can’t ignore that desire for more, even though she’s desperately trying to shove it down, to remind herself that there had to be some sort of boundary, that there were two other people to think about. it’s hard, though, when he’s kissing her, or looking at her like that, or when he reaches down to intertwine their fingers together so easily. fuck. “ me too. i've almost called you so many times, ” it’s followed with a squeeze of his hand, then, as her nose nudges against his own, tempted to close the gap and kiss him again, but she tries to hold onto any shred of self control she has left, just for good measure. even then, she doesn’t pull away. “ do you want to ? talk, i mean, ” she breathes, voice coarse. “ because we can. we should, probably, ” the words are a little shakier, now, as her free hand slides up to rest against his chest, curling against the material of his shirt as she leans in closer, lips skating against his. “ because i… i’m afraid that if i keep kissing you, i won’t be able to stop, and i’ll do something really fucking stupid, that i know i shouldn’t but that i can’t help because it’s you. ” — “ does that make me a terrible person, you think ? ”

even when things were different between them, when things weren’t laced with uncertainty and misunderstanding, miller was never quite able to grasp the inexplainable connection they shared, the power she had over him. and if he couldn’t explain it then, he definitely can’t now, as he finds himself wrapped up in her, kissing her in the familiar way that he does, the outside world fading to a quiet blur, when they’re in each other’s embraces. despite its openness, the display of love itself, it’s an intimate act between them, as if they’re the only two in existence, right now. he doesn’t shy away from it, from her, like he has done with someone else; uncaring as to who witnesses such a grand public display of affection. the world moving around them slowly comes back, as they part, lips buzzing, heart racing, hands shaking. he tucks them away, as he follows her to the front door, as if he could quell that need, desire. not for anything further, but just to… do that again, and again. until they’ve both run out of air and they’re turning blue in the face. god, how has he ever gone so long without something like that? because it’s love, he understands now, that still circulates between them, bringing them together again and again— how could he be so stupid, to try and convince himself that he could survive without it? heart beats a steady pattern in his chest, echoing in the cage of his ribs, as she unlocks the door, taken back in time to when this was their normal routine. when he would stand behind her, distracting as always, lips pressed to her neck or shoulders, his laughter against her skin, fingers against her waist, her hip. despite how much he may want to do that, now, he forces himself to hold back, as if to not overstep, to maintain some resemblance of a boundary, after what they’d just shared outside. that all goes out the window once they’re past the threshold of the door, his arms wrapping around her waist once she’s back against him. “ missed you, ” he echos back. “ so fucking much. ” and it’s one of his most vulnerable confessions of all, thinking back to those nights he’s spent alone, thoughts drifting to her, to wishing that she could be here with him. he transmits that into the kiss they share, here, in the apartment they used to share— the walls whispering memories of laughter, of tears, of late night conversations, early morning goodbyes before they went about their day. it’s dirty coffee mugs in the sink, and books against the wall, paint splattered on the floorboards. it’s the two of them sharing a breath, a life, a home. and it’s still present, in the kiss they share, in the smile chiseled into his features as they part for air, a quiet chuckle departing his lips. “ no, well… i also wanted to see what you’ve done with the place, ” he teases, gaze of endearment, as he looks down at her, lips tingling for more. “ i hope this is real, though. that it isn’t a dream— it feels real to me, ” but then again, she always has. and he can’t accept the alternative; that he was halfway across the country, merely thinking of her, dreaming of her, of this, of the love that still clearly flowed between them, held them together. “ but, i… i don’t have any expectations, coming up here, you know? ” he wants to clarify. “ i mean, we can just talk, if you want, ” somehow, that feels like it exposes a lot, how it’s an absent piece of the puzzle in his life. disguising it with a soft chuckle, he allows his hand to find her own, intertwining their fingers. “ i’ve really missed talking to you. ”

[arisewanekosuki]

Once again congratulations on reaching 200 followers! 🎉🎉🎊🎊 Let's have fun with the celebration! ＼(＾▽＾)／

& for the event, let's bring Albedo, Heizou, Lyney & Kazuha to Fontaine! o(>ω<)o

(Although kazuha may not be known as one of the rizz kings, but his elegant flowery words can definitely make ones heart flutter >////<)

Thank you in advance & have a nice day! 💐💐💐

-shizukano

Hehe thank you again Shizu! I'm so sorry it took me so long to finish it tho ;-; But I hope you'll still like it!!! o(*>3<*)o @shizukano Event Masterlist -------------------------

[Traveler's little helper event] [Albedo, Heizou, Lyney and Kazuha in Fontaine]

Aether sighed. “Why do you have to take THEM this time?” was only a question swarming in his head. Lyney and Heizou were talking with each other, while Albedo and Kazuha were waiting for you in silence. Aether turned his head to look at you with a pout. You notice his staring and then smile, hiding the rest of stuff you wanted to take in pocket dimension. He was still pouting, hoping you’ll change your mind and take him instead. You approached him and patted his head. -“Aw, don’t worry Aether! We’ll take care of everything so please rest.” -“But I don’t need to-“ you placed a finger on his lips, stopping him from finishing the sentence. -“Nuh-hu! I don’t want to hear it! You've been fighting too much lately! Even get sick! This time stay and rest okay?” He wanted to argue that he is not sick anymore, but you’re right, he feels tired and rest would be nice. “But can’t you just rest with me?” he thought. Just looking at the guys standing by the door of the mansion makes him forget his weariness. -“(Y/n) are you ready to go?” asked Heizou, smiling at you, but for a moment Aether could see the smirk on the detective’s face. -“Yes, I’m coming!” you hugged Aether for goodbye “Be good and make sure Paimon won’t eat everything we have in the kitchen! Bye!” You waved at him while going outside. -“Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of her!~” Lyney winked at Aether and went after you. The golden haired boy stood in front of the closed door and mumbled to himself. -“Maybe I should close the Teapot for some time when she’s back…”

After finishing the commissions and getting payment from Katheryne your group decided to eat something. -”How about going on a picnic?” asked Heizou with his hands behind his head. “I’m sure you and Aether learned new recipes, we can cook together!” he smiled towards you. -”That's not a bad idea! What do you think guys?” You asked with excitement. The other boys smiled, agreeing with this plan. -”I know a good place for this! I’m sure you will like it!” said Lyney. -”Hehe! Is that so? Show the way then!” The magician took your group to a field with lovely flowers. From here you can see a small island with a statue of Seven being on top of a hill and behind it there is the big tower looming over Fontaine ocean.  Kazuha and Albedo prepared a place where you can cook while Lyney took from his hat a blanket and laid down on the spot he thinks you’ll like. You and Heizou meanwhile look through the recipes and decide what to cook. -”How about we make Poisson Seafood Soup and Feast-O's? I think you will like the last one~!” -”No matter what you choose to make! I’m sure I’ll like it anyway! Especially when it is made by you~.” Heizou smiled while getting closer to you. You can feel your cheeks getting a bit warmer.  You coughed into your hand. -”Well… Aether is a much better cook than I am so I'm not sure if it will be that great…” -”It will! My intuition says so! And I'm here to help as well!” The detective wanted to put his arm around your shoulders but he was stopped by the magician who appeared out of nowhere. -”(Y/n)~ How about making some sweets too? I want to make my special Cubic Tricks!”  -”O-oh! That's a great idea!” You were surprised by Lyney's appearance but the thing that makes your heart beat a bit faster is the fact that two boys are very close to you. And they for some reason are getting even closer, making you sandwiched between them. “Uhm…boys? How about we start cooking?” You just wanted them to step back a bit before your cheeks start to burn from heat. -”But ma chérie! I can’t start! You’re holding something I need!” Lyney said dramatically, you looked at him confused. Then he took your hand placing his other one on top of your palm. -”Huh?!” That was the only thing you could say at this moment, too stunned by sudden contact. Then you start to feel something round on your palm and before you knew it there was a bulle fruit. “Wow!” Lyney chuckled. -”I’m glad you like this small trick~!” -”I have to say that was a really interesting one!” added Heizou. -”If you ever visit Fontaine again feel free to come to one of my magic shows.” -”I’ll keep that in mind.” You smiled at this, it always makes you feel happy when your friends get along. If only you knew how much there is rivalry between those ‘friends’.  After some time you finished making Poisson Seafood Soup and Feast-O's. Lyney finished his speciality too. -”Mmm~ Smells really nice.” said Kazuha approaching you. “Is everything ready?” -”Yes! .. Oh wait, I want to make something more! But you can take the finished food!” you said. You thought of making La Lettre a Focalors, you know Albedo prefers sweets more so you hope he will like the cake.  -”And what does my partner want to make now?” asked Heizou, placing his chin on your shoulder. You noticed that Heizou is very clingy today. -”You will see! Go where the rest is and wait for me~!” you poked his cheek. -”Hmm…alright!”  The boy went to the others who were waiting on the blanket. Thankfully Teyvat has its own laws and even making food seems to go much faster than in your world so you don’t have to worry about making the boys wait for too long. And let’s not forget you can bake using a pot.

After a short time your cake was ready. You went to where the rest of the group was. -”Sorry for the wait! I made one more treat!” After that you joined and started to eat with the rest. Looking at everyone hoping to see that they like the food.  -”Mmm! Delicious! See I told you, your food will be great!” said Heizou, munching on onion rings.  -”Heizou is right, thank you for making this for us. It's always nice to try something new.” smiled Kazuha, taking a second helping of Seafood Soup. -”Truly, if you don’t mind can you teach me the recipe? I’m sure Klee will like this one.” said Albedo, enjoying the taste of the dishes you made with Heizou. -”Of course! If you want, when we come back to the Teapot I can teach you!” you smiled, happy that everyone is enjoying the food. -”If you don’t mind, maybe we can both cook something for my siblings in future? I’m sure they will love your cooking!” said Lyney, with a big smile on his face. -”Mr. Magician, I hope you’re not trying to steal our (Y/n)?” Heizou smirked at the boy sitting across from him.  -”I wouldn’t dare Mr. Detective! Our dear (Y/n) is a free spirit, I wouldn’t ever try to clip her wings off.” Lyney smirked back, with a dangerous glint in his eyes. When two boys were ‘talking’ you moved closer to Kazuha and Albedo. -”Would you like to try a cake I made?” the two boys nodded, taking slices from you. Both of them in silence enjoying the taste of the treat. “So? How is it?” you asked, a bit nervous. -”I think your cooking is improving more and more whenever I have a chance to try it. Not only I’m filled but it soothes my soul as well.” replied samurai. -”I have to agree. Your cooking always boosts my energy.” Albedo smiled. You smiled back, their comments warming your cheeks.  -”T-thank you! I’m glad you enjoy it!” Before you could take another bite of the cake, a hand holding pink candy came close to you. -”Say “aaah”~!” said Lyney, excited for you to try the sweets he made. For a moment you hesitated, getting a bit embarrassed to be fed by a cute magician. But you opened your mouth and then felt the sweet taste of candy. -”Mmmm! It’s very good! Can I get more?”  -”Of course!” He wanted to feed you again but Heizou snatched the pack with candies. -”I want to try it too!” and with that he started to eat them with other boys and you. Lyney didn’t show it on his face but deep inside he was pouting. He is already planning to take you somewhere later, where the two of you can spend time together. After all, he loves when your eyes are on him.

After the picnic you decided to take your group for a walk to where the Fontaine Institute remains are floating in the air. -”If you find any of those mechanical beetles, please grab them for me okay?” -”Mechanical beetles?” asked Kazuha. -”Yes!! They are big like onikabuto and they can fly too!” -”Do you perhaps need them for someone?” Asked Albedo. -”Yes! Wriothesley said that he wants to help me and Aether next week, so I need them to make him stronger as a thanks!” Lyney was the first one to stop walking. -”The Duke wants to help you?!” you turned around and smiled at him. -”Yeah! I was surprised too! But it will be nice to spend some time with him!” Heizou came closer to Lyney and asked in whisper -”Who is that Duke?” -”…He is the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide… and if you see him you will understand why am I worried of her spending time with him…” the magician whispered back. Meanwhile you noticed a meka beetle scanning some flower, you approached it and caught it. Albedo and Kazuha came to you to see the mechanical bug. -”See! Those are mechanical beetles I was talking about! …hm… I think their real name is…um.. subdetection unit?” -”Interesting…” Albedo murmured, taking the bug in his hand. -”Do you think you can use your alchemy to make a copy of this one?” -”I can try but I don’t think my copy will work if you want to use them for ‘ascension’.” -” I see! I was just curious if you can create mechanical things with alchemy too!” While you and Albedo were talking Kazuha came with more little robots in his hands. -”I found some more.” he smiled while giving them to you. -”Ooh! Thank you Kazuha!! It seems there are many of them in this area!” -”How about small competition?” came Lyney with Heizou in tow. “Let’s see who will find the most of them in this area!” You looked at him with excitement. -”Sure!! I’m on it!” you replied. -”Me too.” Kazuha joined. -”Count me as well!” Heizou smirked. -”I don’t mind taking part in it.” Albedo smiled. And with that you all went to search for mechanical bugs. You may not have a vision but thanks to your ‘connection’ with Aether you can use Elemental Sight. You concentrated hoping to notice where little robots are hiding with it. Thanks to this you found 6 of them.   You didn’t notice you started to go further from the area where you were supposed to search, too immersed in trying to find more.  And because of that you didn’t notice four Meks that were slowly approaching you. -”Aha! I found you!” You were reaching for the bug but before you could grab it, someone took you in their arms and jumped far away. In the place you were standing a second ago, the ground was slashed by Annihilation Specialist Mek’s leg. -”That was a close one.” looking up you were greeted by red eyes. “You should pay more attention to your surroundings.” Kazuha smiled gently. You were confused for a moment but then noticed other boys standing before you and Kazuha, ready to fight with Meks. The samurai put you on the ground and pet your head. -”Leave this to us!” And after saying that he pulled out his sword and rushed to hit one of the Meks. -”Please stay here.” Said Albedo, making the artificial flower to bloom under your feet that brought you up, so you won’t be hit by enemies. You saw them fight many times already and yet somehow, they looked more elegant than before. The reason why was simple. They really wanted to impress you and assure you that with them you’ll always be safe. 

After the last fontaine robot was destroyed, the flower slowly put you down on the ground. Albedo was first to come to you. He looked you up and down and then nodded to himself with a smile. -”Thankfully we avoided the situation of you getting hurt.” he said while shaking the dust off you. Heizou sighed. -”We lost sight of you for a second and you almost got…cut in half…” His brows furrowed, not wanting to even imagine how it would end if Kazuha was one second late. -”You all know that I can’t die here, no matter what happens to my body, it will be back together and I will look like nothing happened! This is why I would prefer if you all were more concerned about yourself. I… I would hate it if anything bad happened to anyone…” you looked at them with worry. Albedo places his hand on your cheek, caressing it.Your heart skips a beat by this gesture. -”We are all aware of this…ability of yours. But still, do you think we would like to see you get hurt like this?” He tried to avoid saying how gruesome it would be if that Mek got to you. -”Albedo is right. You’re important to us and we wish that nothing bad would happen to you.” Said Kazuha, coming closer to you.   -”Guys…” you sighed “Alright, I will be more careful. I’m sorry for worrying you all…” Lyney joined and patted your head.  -”Let’s stay close from now on, alright?” -”Yeah! … Oh! We were traveling on the land all this time! I want to show you all pretty places underwater too!! Let’s go!” and you ran towards the water. The boys looked at each other and then and your figure was getting smaller and smaller. -”... And there is our “stay close” huh”.  Said Heizou scratching his head. Kazuha chuckled.  -”When she is excited she quickly forgets about dangers, but… I find this side of hers quite endearing~” Kazuha smiled and then started to go where you went. The magician smiled at that and followed after the samurai. Other two boys stopped at the shore. -”So…we really can just dive like this?” asked Heizou, unsure of jumping into the Fontaine sea. -”There is only one way to find out.” Albedo said while going into the water and diving in. Heizou stood there for a moment and sighed. -”Shouldn’t we all at least wear something different for that?” After saying this to no one, he went after the group.

-”Come here!” you called while waving at the boys. -”Wow, we can even talk underwater?!” said Heizou, finally realizing he really can breathe underwater “How is it possible?!” -”There are many mysteries in this world that we may never understand my friend.” Kazuha said, awed by the environment.  You swimmed up to Heizou from behind, placing your hands on his shoulders and your chin on his head. -”You can wonder about it when we come back to Teapot! Now let’s enjoy this moment before it gets dark!” You let go of him. “Look! There are some Blubberbeasts!” You pointed at the small group of seals. “Let’s play with them!” and with that you swim towards the chubby animals.   The fontaine creatures seem to like Kazuha and Heizou to your and Lyney's dismay. -”Come here little one!” you tried to grab the attention of the smallest Blubberbeast but it ignored you and was swimming around Kazuha. You pouted, making the samurai laugh. He swam towards you and took your hand, surprising you with this gesture. You two started to swim a bit further from the rest, the little seal was following you. When you stopped, your new chubby friend started to swim around you both, this gave Kazuha a small idea. He held both of your hands and started to spin with you. The two of you started to dance, it wasn’t anything elegant, but you two didn’t mind, laughing together.  -”Hmm… this gave me an idea for a poem.” Kazuha stopped his movement and held you close. The water is cool but now you start to feel like you’re in hot springs. -”Oh? May I hear it?” you said, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. Kazuha opened his mouth but was interrupted by someone. -”Oh there you are!! I was worried some monster attacked you!” Lyney swimmed close to you and took your hand. “(Y/n)! There is something I want to show you!” and with that he started to go in the opposite way of Kazuha, taking you with him. -”Lyney! Wait!” you looked at Kazuha, who smiled and waved at you. -”Don’t worry, I can tell you when we will be back in the teapot.” You nodded at that and started to follow Lyney.

The Magician took you to some big clam. -”Now, can you open it?” he smiled mischievously. You looked at him confused but did what he asked. When the clam opened you saw a beautiful pearl in it. -”Woah!” -”Do you like it?” -”Yes! It’s really pretty!” Lyney smiled at you. -”Then! Now close it!” You did as he said. “Ready for a magic trick?” You nodded with excitement. The boy opened the clam and there was nothing. The pearl completely vanished. -”Oh? Where is it?” you asked, looking around the clam. Lyney smiled and pointed at his neck. When you touch around yours you feel something. You gasped when you noticed there was a necklace made of pearls. -”This is amazing!! Can I have them?” -”Of course! This is for only you!” Lyney chuckled, happy that you like his present. -”Thank you! This trick was amazing too!” -”Hm? And what’s going on here?” Came Heizou looking with smirk at you both. “Oh what a pretty necklace! It suits you (Y/n)!” You got a bit shy after his compliment but with a big smile you thanked him.

Meanwhile at the shore, Kazuha got out of the water. He noticed that Albedo was standing there with his paint equipment and was working on some painting. Curious, he approached the blonde boy. Albedo noticed him immediately but didn’t stop at his work, he wanted to finish it before the imagine in his head would leave. When Kazuha saw what he was working on he couldn’t help but be in awe. It was a painting of you being underwater, surrounded by some creatures. You looked like some goddess. The lighting, the brushes, everything was just amazing. This gave Kazuha another idea for a poem. -”She truly is our muse isn’t she?” Kazuha smiled, still looking at the painting. Albedo didn’t respond, he only smiled and nodded. After that Kazuha went to sit on the rock that was nearby to write the poem down, hoping that when you two will be alone he will recite them for you.   

You came out of the water, curious where Albedo and Kazuha are. Meanwhile Heizou and Lyney have some competition underwater. You looked around and then saw that Albedo was standing a bit far away, painting something. For now you decide to see what he is working on later. Kazuha was sitting on the rock, with a relaxed expression looking at the scenery in front of him. When your both eyes met, he smiled and patted the place beside him, inviting you to sit with him. -“You seem to be in a very good mood, don't you?” you smiled, sitting by Kazuha’s site. The white haired boy closed his eyes.  -“Of course, the weather and scenery are so lovely, the breeze feels nice on the skin and the most important thing is that I can enjoy all of it with you by my side.” He opened his eyes and gave you such a soft look. You felt your face get warmer. -“Ah! Um… I’m glad that I can enjoy this trip with you all too!” you coughed in your hand. Kazuha founds you adorable when you started waving your hand in front of your face to make it cooler. He knows that his comment made you feel this way, but he wonders what you really think about it. Did your heart skip a beat? Or maybe you think he’s just being very friendly. He noticed that sometimes you don’t get it when someone is trying to flirt with you and sometimes you get so bashful by simple compliments from friends. He could sit and wonder about your true feelings, but right now is not the moment for that. Right now he just wants to enjoy this short alone time with you he was given. You were still waving your hand, so he decided to help you cool down with his Anemo power. The breeze that just came made you feel better. -“Mmm how nice~” The boy beside you smiled and closed his eyes, enjoying the ‘music’ of the world with you.

After some time you noticed that Albedo finished painting so you decided to check it. -”May I see what you were working on?” You smiled, approaching the Alchemist. -”Of course, I was planning to show it to you anyway… I only hope you won’t mind that you were my model for this one.” He gently smiled. -”I already said that I won’t mind being your model so draw me whenever you are inspired! I love your drawings-” finally taking a look you were shocked. It was so beautiful.  -”… Is it really me?” you whispered still in awe. -”Hm? Yes. Is it not to your liking?” he asked, from his face you couldn’t tell, but he was worried deep down if you like it or not. -”N-no! I mean! I like it-…no! I love it!! It is beautiful! It’s just-…. I don’t think I’m that pretty like you drew me here…” you have mixed feelings looking at it. Albedo looked at you, deep in thought. -”…But what if I say you are? After all, here I drew as I see you. For me you look like this.” After hearing it your heart skipped a bit. Hearing that you’re beautiful from the most beautiful person in Teyvat made you feel warm. -”T-thank you.” you whispered, not looking at him. The boy smiled. Albedo loves looking at your expressions, you just look so adorable to him. Normally he doesn't have time to paint while adventuring with you and your other friends, so he was happy he found time today to capture your beauty. -”Would you like to take this one?” he asked. -”May I?” You looked at him, excited. -”Of course.” -”Then thank you!! I will find a good place for it in the Teapot!” You smiled brightly. Then you noticed Lyney and Heizou emerging from the water. -”(Y/n)!” Lyney shouted running towards you. “Guess who won?” -”Hmm…” you decided to tease the boy in front of you. “Heizou?” Lyney gasped, placing his hand on his chest. Lost of words. You laughed at his reaction. -”I’m joking, I know you won! Here is your prize!” Lyney smiled, coming a bit closer. Hoping that the prize would be a kiss on the cheek. But what he didn’t expect was that you would take candy from your pocket, unwrap it and hold it close to his lips. -”Say ‘aah’.” Lyney blushed at that but did what you said. The candy felt even sweeter now. -”Mmm~ Thank you!” -”Oya? If I knew I would be fed by (Y/n) I would do my best to win!” Heizou came closer, putting arm around your shoulder. “Is there some prize for second place?” He smirked. You wondered for a bit. -”Well I don't have anything else so…” You started to pat his head “Good Job Heizou!”  Detective closed his eyes, enjoying your gentle touch.  -”It’s getting dark, are we coming back?” Kazuha asked, approaching your group. -”Ah yeah!! Let’s go back home!” 

Aether was sitting on the sofa, pouting. -”It’s been so long… maybe I should go search for her-” -”Paimon is sure they will come back soon!” The little girl flew over him with dango in her hand. “Would you like some?” she offered. The boy sighed, shaking head. Paimon shrugged at that and started to eat dango. Five more minutes passed and Aether abruptly stood up. -”I’m going to search for her!” He started to go towards the front door. -”Ah! Wait for Paimon!” The girl quickly finished her dango and flew after him. But before he could reach the doorknob, someone else opened the door. -”Hm? Aether? Are you going somewhere?” You asked, confused why he was standing by the door. Aether only hugged you and he mumbled. -”Why did it take so long? I was worried something happened…”  you smiled, hugging him back and patting his back. -”Sorry! But I’m home now!” -”Welcome back!!” Paimon said “Paimon made tea for everyone!” -”Thank you Paimon! Um… Aether, can we step inside? Others are waiting… ”  Aether didn’t let you go but you two moved deeper into the house to let other boys come in.  -”Oho! Someone was missing (Y/n) very much~” said Heizou laughing. Aether only gave him a small glare, still hugging you.   -”Ah I’m tired~ (Y/n) wanna later read those detective novels from fontaine?” -”Of course!” And with that Heizou went to the kitchen for his tea. -”If you don’t mind, after tea would you like to hear my poems?” Kazuha came closer to you. You turned from Aether but he was still holding onto you, placing his head on your shoulder, pouting again.  -”Oh yeah! I would love to!” Kazuha smiled and follow after Heizou to kitchen. -”I can’t wait to see where you will put the painting.” was the only thing albedo said, then went to get the tea and go back to his room. Lyney approached you and took your hand. -”There is still one trick I would show you! Let’s go!” and with that he took you away from Aether. The golden haired boy sighed and followed after you. He won’t let them spend some alone time with you any more today.

[buck-star]

Marshmallow lover | B.B & S.R

>> Bucky comes home from a mission, flashbacks are brought back. But luckily you know what Bucky needs to clam down. Not only you and Steve but also hot chocolate. <<

Pairing: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Reader

Wordcount: 2.852 Words

Warnings: poly-relationship, m/m/f, established relationship, anxiety/panic, mention of punching), nicknames (babydoll, princess, majesty), fluff

Authors Note: Dedicated to @mercurial-chuckles. Cause you asked for Stucky, hehe. I had another idea but I just haven’t had enough motivation or ideas to write it. So I hope you like that one anyway.

Events: Stucky Bingo [SB6010 | B3 | Writing Format: second person + November Prompt: Home | @stuckybingo] Steve Rogers Bingo [SB4054 | C3 | Free Space | @steverogersbingo]

It was one of these early winter days, where the weather wasn't too cold but you could already feel the breeze the winter was bringing with itself. The air was cool; your hands would have been ice blocks already, but luckily your boyfriend was holding one of them, and the other has been stuck in your pocket since the two of you left the house.

Actually, the two of you thought about staying home until Bucky came home — from the mission — in the evening. But when Bucky told you that he wouldn't be home before the late evening, Steve decided to force you in a loving way to go shopping with him. He knew you loved decoration, so it was the best opportunity to make you leave the house and have some fun with him. Otherwise, you would have sat in the hallway, watching the front door until Bucky walked inside.

It happened once, and both of your men made sure that they would distract you if the other one was on a mission and came home late. Of course, they understood why you acted like that; it was weird to have one of you not in bed at night or missing at the table during meals. Even watching television was different if one of them was on a mission — which didn't happen often anymore.

But after the last time you refused to leave the spot in the hallway unless you had to use the bathroom, Steve took you shopping this time. And luckily, he managed to get your mind off of the fact that Bucky could be injured when he came home. Even though you seemed distracted, Steve felt a little restless; he knew you felt the same, but he just hoped the decoration was distracting enough for you. Little did he know that you hoped the same for him, because deep down, you wanted to return home to make sure that Bucky was fine once he came home. But you tried to calm yourself; Bucky could call you once he was home, and he could take care of himself for a bit too. Plus, he sometimes even enjoyed having a moment just for himself after some missions.

When you had some items you wanted and were happy with, you and Steve made your way back home. It was just a short walk, but the later it got, the colder it was. You were shivering, and Steve's strong arm around your waist and his muscular body pressed against your side didn't help much to warm you up. “You know, my tooth...” you chuckled softly, moving them inside your shoes even though you didn't really feel them because of the cold anymore. “They are pretty cold. Guess they would fall off if I bumped them.”

“Then we get you home pretty fast. Don't want your toes to fall off. Bucky wouldn't like that either," Steve joked, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your hair. The two of you didn't talk much; there was no need. It was just the closeness to one another, the happiness and love that you felt whenever you were close to your boyfriends. So you just walked quietly along the streets with him, the sky slowly darkening, and you were glad you were almost home already.

After a few more minutes of walking, you finally walked into the warm house. It was almost a burning feeling on your skin, and you hissed softly. Steve had to shove you into the house, or else you would probably have walked backwards and out of the warmth back into the cold. He chuckled behind you, his calloused hands holding you by your waist before pushing you further into the hallway so he was able to close the door behind you.

“It's warm, isn't it? Maybe it’s because you're surrounded by such hot men.” Steve laughed softly, taking your jacket, before he took off his own jacket and shoes. You narrowed your eyes when you walked further into your house, looking around to find Bucky. You were sure he was home; his shoes were in the hallway where they belonged. But instead of your boyfriend coming immediately to greet the two of you, he was nowhere to be seen. Steve's voice interrupted your thoughts before you could even start to worry. “Maybe he's in the bedroom; he loves showers after a mission. While you look for him, I'm gonna make some hot chocolate for us.”

You nodded, pecking Steve's lips softly, before you turned away to walk to your shared bedroom. You didn't hear any noises, neither the shower nor Bucky looking through the wardrobe to find something comfortable to wear. You tried as best as you could to not worry about him. Bucky was sometimes pretty quiet, especially after missions. It was almost like he had to get used to home again to know he wasn't on a mission any longer.

The door of your bedroom was almost closed, but you saw a little part of the bed, the small bedside table, and a hint of something else — feet. Or it was more the toes that were curled, like they were the only part that was holding him grounded. You pushed the door open, looking to the side where Bucky was sitting. Your eyes widened as you saw him curled up into himself. His knees were pressed against his chest, his hands properly bruising his skin already, while his eyes were unfocused. Bucky was just staring into the air with a fearful expression on his handsome face.

You slowly walked closer to him, unsure what to do. Sweat was running down his forehead; even his hair was sweaty, and his clothes were stuck to him like a second skin — soaked in sweat. You're not sure how long he was sitting there like that; his teeth gritted, his jaw clenched, and you noticed his other muscles being more visible than usual through his clothes. Bucky was tense like he was still in a fight, and in a certain way he was — but instead of fighting against some people like Hydra, he was fighting his own battle with himself, with his fear in his mind.

“Bucky?” You asked softly, your voice just above a whisper when you kneeled down in front of him. There was still some distance, so he wasn't able to reach you if he would punch or kick. You have seen Steve in such situations with Bucky before; he had to take the one or another punch already — which caused Bucky to feel even more guilty after. But Steve always assured him that it's not as bad as it looks and that it would never change anything about the way he feels for Bucky or sees his boyfriend. And even though he never hurt you, Bucky was always sorry that you had to see him struggling so much with his nightmares and flashbacks from the past — you never judged him; you only loved him more when he couldn't love himself.

Bucky didn't react when you called him by his name. His fingers only tightened around his legs. You wanted to reach out, but you know you shouldn't. Bucky once had his hand around Steve's throat the moment his fingertips brushed along his lover's leg. And you knew Steve was stronger than you; he had struggled to get the other super soldier off of him, so you were pretty sure Bucky would crash you before you could even call for Steve. And both told you to never call Steve for help; they trust and love you, but they were too worried about you — and Bucky would never be okay with himself again if he would hurt you. And you understood it.

After another time calling him by his name but getting no answer, you sigh softly. Tears slowly formed in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks, and everything inside of you screamed to wipe them away, to pull him into you, but you were too afraid to scare him even more. So, you decided to make the only thing that came as an alternative solution to your mind — Steve.

From the time you walked into the bedroom to the moment you got up to walk to the door and shout for Steve, only a few minutes passed. But for you, it felt like at least twenty minutes, not being able to help Bucky and not wanting to leave his side while you tried to come up with something that could help without Steve's help.

You opened the door of your shared bedroom a bit more, looking out into the hallway. “Steve!” You shouted, earning immediately a soft ‘Yes.’ from him. He was still making the hot chocolate, but he was worried the moment you shouted his name instead of coming into the kitchen with Bucky. “I—I need you here. Or Bucky needs you... WE NEED YOU.”

Steve would have chuckled about your wording, but he knew that this wasn’t a situation to laugh about. He immediately turned off everything that could burn. His footsteps were loud and heavy when he walked to your shared bedroom. He noticed you looking out of the door, narrowing his eyes when he didn't see Bucky close to you. The big grump was actually holding you close, hugging, carrying, or kissing you the whole time. But right now, it was only you who waited for him to come to the bedroom.

"Where's Buck? Are you okay? Did he… What's wrong?” Steve asked, not even letting you a moment to answer. You brought your hand to his cheek, stroking it softly before giving him a slight, soft smile. He knew you didn't feel like you tried to show, but he knew you did it to calm the two of you down. It wouldn't help any of you to freak out or be more worried. After a moment, you take your hand away, taking a step to the side, and letting Steve walk into the room.

“He doesn't react when I talk to him. I-I don't know what I can do, but you... You trailed off, watching Steve's eyes widen as he saw your boyfriend looking like a lost puppy. You watched him walk over to Bucky, pulling you with him before Steve pushed you to sit down on the bed, and he kneeled down in front of Bucky. Steve was way closer than you were earlier, and you pulled your knees up, hugging them while you watched your boyfriends intensely. “You know what to do, right?”

Steve nodded, smiling softly. He turned his head back to Bucky, placing his hand on the brown-haired man's knees. Bucky hissed; his metal hand shot up to place a punch into Steve's pretty face, but he caught Bucky's hand. Steve held Bucky's hand tightly, trying to force his hand back down, and after a moment it even worked. You watched them with slightly parted lips; when did Steve find out how to catch Bucky's hand — especially his metal hand?

“Buck, it's me. It's Steve. You're home; do you hear me?” Steve asked, his voice soft. He ran his thick fingers slowly up and down the side of Bucky's thigh. He leaned a bit closer; his other hand was still holding Bucky's metal hand, and you wonder if Bucky was trying to punch him with his other hand but he didn't. “You're home, with me and our princess. You know, your babydoll.”

Bucky gasped softly, his eyes wider than before. His hands made grabbing motions, and Steve smiled softly, feeling Bucky being less tense than he was just a moment ago. Steve let go of his boyfriend's metal hand, using his hand to wipe away some sweat from Bucky's forehead.

“Hi, Buck,” he chuckled. Bucky slowly calmed down, noticing his surroundings. Bucky was slowly letting go of his legs, stretching them slowly between Steve's legs while his head fell forward against Steve's shoulder. “You're home; we are home. We got ya. Scared our princess a bit.”

“My babydoll?” Bucky's voice was hoarse and quiet, but Steve understood him anyway. He slowly nodded, caressing Bucky wet strands. Steve then turned his head to you, nodding at Bucky and mouthing that he just asked for you before he even asked anything else. “My babydoll, my Stevie.”

“We’re here, Buck. Do you want her to come closer as well, or do you need a moment?” Steve asked softly. He knew — you both knew — that Bucky was still pretty shaken up and that he could use some time to calm down or that he needed to feel the two of you, to smell the two of you, and to see the two of you to calm down completely.

Since the brown-haired man didn't really trust his voice, he only lifted his hand, making a grabby hand into the direction of the bed where you were still sitting. His other hand was interlaced with Steves, holding him close to Bucky. You slowly moved down from the bed; your knees were cracking softly when you stretched them out, and Steve laughed softly.

“Thought we were old, but you're cracking just like we do,” he told you, smirking before he moved a bit to the side to make space for you in front of Bucky. You rolled your eyes, moving closer to Bucky, but before you could have even said anything or moved another inch, he pulled you into his lap. You were straddling his thick thighs, your chest pressed against his.

Bucky hid his face in the crock of your neck, pulling Steve against his side so the two of you — the two people he loved the most, who meant everything to him — were as close as possible to him. After a moment of comfortable silence, he lifted his head. He was still sweaty, but his ocean blue eyes were brightened, and the sparkle you and Steve loved so much were visible again. A soft smile was tugging at Bucky's lips, causing you to smile as well. He leaned closer, pecking your lips before he did the same with Steve, sighing softly.

“Hi,” he chuckled, resting his head on your shoulder once again. “Missed you two. Do I smell hot chocolate?”

Both you and Steve laughed softly. When it came to hot chocolate, especially with marshmallows, you had to be faster than Bucky, or else he — accidentally — drank everything before you even reached the kitchen.

“Mhm, it’s probably cold again, but I can warm it up while you get a shower, sweaty,” Steve teased, using the nickname on purpose instead of ‘sweety’. Bucky rolled his eyes, growling softly, but he then nodded. Steve wasn't wrong; he felt like he had already taken a shower, but this time with his own sweat. “We got some marshmallows, and our princess got a lot of decorations.”

You nodded; your eyes lit up as you opened your mouth to start and explain what you got and why you got it. Bucky chuckled, loving your excitement. But he wanted you to show him and explain it while the three of you would be sitting wrapped up in a blanket on the couch with hot chocolate and marshmallows. So he pressed his lips onto yours before you could even start to tell him more about it.

“But I'm taking my babydoll to take a shower with me,” Bucky grumbled, and there he was again. Your Bucky, the love of your and Steve’s lives who never let go of you, who needed to be close to you, needed to kiss you and just show you all the love and affection. Of course, he did the same with Steve too, but he had another task, so it was you who was going to join him in the shower. “Plus, need her to wash my hair. Feels so much better when she massages the shampoo into my hair with her soft hands.”

“Of course you do,” Steve chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Bucky and then your forehead before he got up to get the chocolate ready. Bucky opened his mouth, but Steve turned around, smirking at him. “Yeah, with as many marshmallows as you wish, my majesty.”

“Good boy.” Bucky grinned at Steve, who suddenly blushed and turned away. “Mission completed, making Stevie blush. Now, my next mission is to get you into the shower with me. Mhm, missed you. I love you so much, babydoll. And you too, Steve, I know you're standing in the hallway.”

“I love you too,” you say in unison with Steve, who then made his way down the hallway back to the kitchen. Bucky got up, keeping you in his arms before he walked with you to the bathroom, getting the two of you into the shower. It wasn't just cleaning him; it was a lot more Bucky being possessive and touch-starved, and you were his solution — you were gladly his way to get touches and be happy when it meant kisses, hugs, soft touches, and all the compliments you loved so much to hear from your boyfriends.

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[jortoise]

I will never understand ppl who are casual library haters. I’ve talked to people about how my siblings and I would always go to the libraries for their activities and programs, how we would rent dvds when we didn’t have cable or streaming, and they’re just like “oh yeah I never went to libraries I don’t like reading/ I just buy books” like girl you are devoid of whimsy I have my library card MEMORIZED we are not the same…