#but that involves riding the wave unfortunately

[sugarcubeindulgent]

a lovely night | bill dickey x f!reader

synopsis. it's prom night. you've been stood up and of all your friends to be sent to check-up on you, they send bill. yeah, maybe you both hate each other, but it is a lovely night.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ contents. established relationship. fluff. misogynistic language. comfort. homophobic language. swearing.

You’re unsure if anything has ever been more humiliating. Pissing your pants on an elementary field trip to the zoo? Nope. Splitting down the ass of your pants on the first day of freshman year by eating shit in the cafeteria? Not even close. Getting caught watching porn when Pete thought it’d be funny to send a baiting link? No. No, you’ve never felt more humiliated than now. Sitting on the curb outside of the school’s entrance with tears refusing to stop rolling down your flushed and warm cheeks.

The night air is cool and breezy against your skin exposed in the dress your mom had spent three months making all for your date to have been part of some long, cruel prank. Your sash is discarded beside you with your earrings and necklace. Sniffling and wiping at your cheeks, you wonder if you should call your dad or walk home.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you press yourself harder into the left side of the railing while wiping your cheeks and underneath your smudged lash line. “Oh God you’re crying…”,groans a voice that’s the very last you want to hear. Still, it’s a reflex to turn and glare hotly at Bill who looks stupid with his chestnut hair slicked back and his suit a bit too big for his frame. He looks at you through his glasses, his hands tuck into his slacks and he seems to shift in discomfort once he looks at your face. He looks away.

“Fuck, I don’t wanna hear any of it, Bill. Save the mocking and jokes for tomorrow.”,you sigh in exasperation while looking away from him.

Unfortunately, his footsteps continue to grow closer. “I don’t wanna be out here either but I pulled the short straw to deal with your girly feelings.”,scoffs Bill. You grunt in frustration and drag a hand down your face with a sharp exhale. He’s such an asshole, you can’t help thinking as he sits down a hand’s length away from you.

You shake your head, sniffling and looking straight ahead with more annoyance and anger in you than hurt and humiliation now. A cool breeze dances along Bill and then reaches you, your eyebrows twitch noticing the cologne you noticed earlier on him on the car ride over. It’s cheap but it feels fitting for him, a bit pleasant after you get used to it. Wetting your lips you turn to Bill when he expels a deep and annoyed sigh.

“I mean we tried to warn you.”

Quickly, you shake your head. “My fucking God…”,you groan while dropping your face into your hands while your elbows press into your thighs.

“What?”,Bill complains incredulously. He shakes his head and you drop your hands, glaring at him with a hot scowl while his eyes finally meet you again. “We tried to tell you that football ape was just looking for an easy girl to fuck with and you didn’t believe us. You let your stupid woman's brain convince you he was a nice guy.” His expression is twisted in annoyance and irritation, looking at you as if you’re stupid but he also seems to be looking at you in a way you’re not familiar with from his eyes.

Regardless, your anger flares and you toss up your hands. “Well I’m sorry I wanted to believe for once that I could have one could high school experience that didn’t involve you guys.”,you snap at him, your voice dripping in sarcasm. Then you scoff and shake your head while wiping at your cheeks. Humiliation and hurt burns suddenly, it feels all the worse knowing the guys will probably never let you live this down. “Do you really have to be a fucking–a f-fucking asshole right now? Can you not save it?” You nearly fling yourself down the rest of the stairs when your voice cracks and your eyes start to sting again. Quickly, you turn away and wave him away. “Just fucking go away.”

For a long moment, Bill is shockingly silent beside you. He doesn’t say a word and you can only hear the wind rustling the trees around and whistling through the warm, night air. You’re hoping he’s just going to leave, that for once in his damn life he won’t be a miserable sack of shit that seems to love arguing with you and fighting with you. And for a hopeful moment, you think he will give you some mercy. But then he clears his throat and snorts, your fists ball up on your lap.

“We all agreed he’s probably just a faggot anyway…”,he suddenly murmurs.

You blink softly and turn to look at him. Bill’s looking down at his nails, they’re practically chewed down to the skin – his knuckles scarred and a bit bruised from the many fits of rage he experiences. “What?”,you ask, clearing your throat after realizing you sound way too pathetic. His eyebrows furrow and he shrugs with a shake of his head.

“I mean – y’know.” You look along his acne-scarred face and he shrugs again while looking up at the starry and clear night, the full moon bathes everything in a white glow. “You actually got all dressed up. You look like an actual girl for once and–and you smell nice and…I don’t know maybe he’s just some fag for standing you up.” Bill’s face is red. You’re unable to help but notice the way his cheeks are a hot red, so red that it’s spread to the tips of his ears. “So…stop being such a girl and crying about someone probably getting fucked by his teammates.”

You’re unsure what to say for a few moments. He’s comforting you. Complimenting you. You can only ever remember him being nice to you, you being nice to him during your tournaments or games whenever you’d carry the team. Only when it benefitted him. But he’s being nice to you, complimenting and comforting you right now. In his own way, but it still has you a bit surprised and taken off guard. Swallowing hard, you suddenly notice something red staining his button-up and you shift the topic just a bit.

“Why is your shirt stained?”,you ask a bit softer than you mean to.

Bill looks from you and down to his shirt, he rolls his eyes. “Lardo shoved me into Stacey Kupsbrick. That bimbo bitch threw her drink at me.”

A laugh leaves your lips and you cover your smile. Bill glares at you and you shake your head while you put up your other hand in defense. “Hey, at least you got to feel her up at prom like you always talked about.”,you remark, dropping your hands to hold your knees while you smile at Bill in amusement. His glare lightens, rolling his eyes again with a smile and nodding.

“Pete said that too.”,he laughs a bit.

Your eyes flicker away from him and your thumbs gently stroke the satin fabric of your prom dress, sniffling, you wet your lips that taste like watermelon. Something odd tingles along your chest and stirs in your stomach as a silence that isn’t awkward or tense with anger settles between you and Bill. You’re unsure if you should say something but you don’t even know what you would say. It doesn’t even feel like Bill’s next to you. Maybe his body was snatched by some alien who knows how to not be an asshole.

“You do look nice tonight. Pretty but not in a slut way.” Your eyes snap to Bill, he’s looking down and wiping his hands on his slacks. “Even if you’re an ugly crier.” He’s still red in the cheeks and tips of his ears.

You want to be mean, to ask him if he’s simply building up to be an asshole or to insult him. But you’re exhausted from crying and you still feel humiliated and embarrassed. Enough that your body disgustingly warms beneath Bill’s backhanded compliment. You clean under your lower lash line and then at the corners of your eyes. Then you nod and you look away, up at the lovely night.

“You smell nice.”,you compliment him, looking down as your hands feel oddly sweaty. You feel Bill’s eyes peek at you from the corner of his eyes and you shrug loosely. “Not like your dandruff shampoo and sweat.”

Bill clears his throat. “Yeah uhm…my mom got me a cologne for tonight.”,he replies. The air feels awkward now. Not in a bad way, it just feels foreign to be nice to each other. You wonder if you should just tell him to leave now. But he speaks first. “Are you gonna come back inside?” Your eyes flicker to him, lashes still wet with tears and eyes still glassy. Bill meets your eyes and he shrugs. “I mean you did make us come to this woman’s bullshit. If you leave you’ll owe us the ticket prices.”

A frown spreads on your lips. “That’s not fair! Jerry wanted to come.”

“Yeah and he’s practically a woman so?”,scoffs Bill. Then he stands and dusts himself off.

Glaring up at him, the idea of going back inside is nauseating. But oddly enough…you do feel better. Warmer and less humiliated. You look up at Bill whose hands slip into the pockets of his slacks. Contemplating for a moment, you sigh in frustration and grab your jewelry and sash. “You’re such a dick.”,you mutter. He mocks you in a girlish voice while you shove your sash into his hands and you first put your earrings on. Placing the chain around your neck, your eyebrows furrow as you try to do the clasp.

“Can you hurry up?”,complains Bill impatiently.

“I’m trying, asshole. The clasp is tiny.”,you snap.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips and he tosses your sash over his shoulder before he walks over. “Turn around. God what kind of girl can’t put a fucking necklace on?”,he harshly spits, smacking away your hands.

Your irritation spreads to your features. “You barely have any nails left how are–fuck!” You hiss in annoyance when he smacks you upside the head. “God…asshole…”,you mumble.

Bill’s fingers work at the clasp and you’re unable to stop feeling weirder. You can feel his fingers brushing and touching the nape of your neck, you blink and look down at the ground while keeping your hairstyle away.

Finally, he pulls away and you release a breath you were holding. Turning around, you notice he’s shifting uncomfortably before tugging your sash and tossing it at you. “Hurry up or I’ll start making jokes about you being stood up.”,he says quickly, turning away and walking towards the school’s entrance with a stiff frame and scowl painted red.

You swallow a bit of that weird feeling, pulling on your sash and wiping your cheeks and cleaning your eyes before you follow where Bill disappears through the doors.

What a weird night.

[xproskeith]

.

[starkeysbaby]

When the turtle incident at the beach happens the reader gets hurt saving the turtle 🐢 and rafe snap. Everyone sees a different side of rafe

a/n: i LOVE this idea. - Unfortunately i feel like i didn’t do it justice 🥲🥲 but hope you enjoy!! <3

“if i ever see you round my girl again…”

pairings: s4 rafe cameron x kook but not kooky!reader [est. relationship]

warnings: S4 E4 SCENE DESCRIBED/USED (not sure if it’s really a spoiler tho as nothing plot wise is revealed) turtles being hurt, blood, death threat, canon rafe lol, use of swear words. (pls lemme know if i forgot any)

summary: you just wanted peace between everyone, unfortunately you and a turtle became collateral damage over a kook vs pogue contest. rafe is not happy…

navigation ⋅˚₊‧𐙚‧₊˚ ⋅ obx masterlist

You were a kook? Well that’s what your bank account said. However, you were closer with the pogues and basically hung out with them or your boyfriend.. rafe cameron. that was the weird part. It had been awkward since the pogues all returned from El Dorado. You had sort of become the middle man in between rafe and the pogues including his sister, sarah. It was an unspoken rule between you and rafe that you just don’t talk about them with him which you respected. He’ll come around in his own time you thought.

When the swell came in, your boyfriend and his friends were eager to hit the beach and have a surf day to which you wouldn’t turn down. meeting up at tannyhill, you saw that topper had bought his new girlfriend, ruthie who you weren’t too keen on. You had mentioned this to rafe a while back but he said that it isn’t yours or his business to get involved with toppers love life and told you to just stay away from her if you didn’t like her to which you couldn’t argue.

Arriving at the beach you saw your friends, jj, john b, kiara and sarah and quickly told rafe that you were going over to say hi. Rafe just mumbled something as he set up his towel and told you not to be long as he stared daggers at sarah.

“hey!” you wave jogging up to the pogues, hugging sarah then kie. “what’s up y/nn (your nickname)” kie asked. “not much. just thought we’d hit the waves. i told them we should go a bit farther from here but they didn’t listen… sorry” you explained, knowing it’s best if the kooks and pogues don’t cross paths today. “you’re good. it’s them we don’t trust” jj butts in. “yeah, no. i’ll tell them to lay off..” you smile then turn to sarah. “he’s trying. he’ll come around. i know it..” you tell her, referring to rafe. Sarah just shrugs, pretending as if not being on good terms with her brother isn’t bothering her. “wanna surf?” you smile and take sarah’s hand dragging her to the water as you both laugh.

After surfing with sarah and the pogues for a while, you had joined rafe on his towel and spent an hour or so just chilling with him. He showered you in attention and you did your best to ignore ruthies little comments about the pogues and how jj is a poor sport. At one point, rafe saw you side eye ruthie for shitting on the pogues again. “hey. don’t frown.” he mumbles turning your head to face him and pats your cheek. “i don’t get her problem rafe.” you sigh. “yeah it sucks, but cmon” “no. it’s unnecessary. they aren’t doing anything to her.” you tell him, referring to the pogues just minding their business apart from that tiny squabble with jj and topper in the ocean but topper didn’t seem to care too much so why does ruthie? “i told you, ignore her” rafe says a little sternly taking your hand in his, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. “yeah yeah…” you smile as you peck him, letting it go as you didn’t want ruthie to ruin the day.

While you packed up, unknown to you and rafe, ruthie was convincing topper to just ride the truck over to the pogues to mess up their set up. You in the meantime went over to the pogues to say bye, only to find them saving a turtle hatch in which you started assisting with. The next thing you know, you see ruthie driving her truck at a high speed straight at you. While sarah and kie do their best to get the turtles out of the way in time, you stand in front waving your hands trying to get ruthies attention to stop her. “hey! hey!!! stop! there’s a hatch!” you call out but she doesn’t hear you. you can vaguely see topper yell at ruthie, probably to stop but she’s just laughing. kiara notices ruthie has no intention of stopping and quickly pulls you out the way.

Luckily no turtles were hurt at that point but you see ruthie circling around to go again. You stand up again, trying to stop her. Rafe has also noticed this and starts making his way over to get, in his words, your stupid ass out of the way. You realise ruthie yet again has no intention of stopping so you quickly go to pick up a turtle that was in the way but you get hit slightly by the truck, knocking you out.

“what the actual fuck?!” kiara yells rushing to you, she takes the turtles from you and calls for rafe who’s at your side in seconds. He looks up at a shocked, somewhat guilty looking ruthie. “what the fuck is your problem?” he spits “did you not see her fucking standing there telling you to stop!” he yells as he takes off his shirt to wrap around a bloody scrape on your knee from something in the sand. Overall you weren’t too badly hurt but might need some stitches. That was enough for rafe to see red though.

As sarah goes to fetch water to splash you awake, ruthie stutters “i.. i thought she’d get out the way. why would she just fucking stand the-” kie cuts her off “there was a turtle hatch! look what you did! she was tryna save this turtle” kie yells at her, showing her the hurt turtle to which ruthie turns her face away from. “why the fu-” rafe cuts himself off on questioning you to wake you up with the water sarah got. As you felt water being splashed on your face, you sit up. “what happened?” you groan. “y/n im so so sor-” ruthie starts to apologise but rafe cuts her off. “no. you shut the fuck up and stay away from my girl” rafe snaps causing topper to get involved. “hey now rafe-” but again rafe cuts him off. “control your bitch, top” he huffs shutting topper and everyone else up.

He lifts you up and walks towards his truck. “my head hurts..” you mumble. “i know baby.. gonna get you to the hospital aight” he gently whispers to you to which you just nod. With a final “don’t pull shit like that again” from rafe, he places you in the passengers seat before shutting the door and quickly going up to ruthie. “if i ever see you round my girl again… i’ll kill you” he murmurs up close to her face in a terrifyingly dangerous way. Apart from sarah and a few of the pogues, no one has ever seen rafe like that.. so scary.. so threatening… so murderous. Ruthie just nodded which was enough for rafe to leave the scene so he could take you to the hospital.

a/n: hope you enjoyed - kinda struggled to find a way to set the dynamic where reader is dating rafe but close to the pogues at this point in the show cuz i couldn’t see rafes defending someone so furiously unless he was dating her 😭

requests are open!! enjoy lovelies - liv <33

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some guy gets arrested

Inspired by @medium-sized-ghost addition to the Original Post.

Masterpost

“So sorry about this, Mr. Wayne.”

“No, I understand. I’m just glad to see the law doing their job so well.” Bruce continues pleasantly through the police station with Commissioner Gordon leading the way.

“We’ll get this sorted out as soon as possible, but in the meantime you will need to unfortunately be placed in holding.”

“Of course. It’s really no problem, it was my mistake missing my court date like that. Time just gets away from me sometimes, you know?” Nevermind the fact that Bruce hadn’t even known about said court date or the speeding ticket it was for. He couldn’t prove which child had taken his car for a joy ride, but his prime suspects were Jason or Dick. (He would later find out that it was Stephanie upon a dare from Duke. He already attempted to banned them from playing Truth or Dare after Tim convinced Dick to do a handstand on Jason’s bike going 95 down the freeway. Not that Dick really needed any convincing.)

“Well you’re in luck, one cell is mostly empty.” It was a small cell closer to the front. Bruce could see a teenager laying on the bench to the right. Gordon opened the door and stood to the side so Bruce could enter and locked the door behind him. “Would you like anything to drink? Water? Coffee?”

Bruce smiled, “No, thank you.” Gordon nodded and looked past Bruce at the only other occupant in the cell, “What about you kid? Anything?”

Bruce watched as the kid, one he unfortunately recognized, lifted his arm from where it was thrown over his eyes and waved it in the air at the commissioner, “I’m good.” The arm went back down. Gordon grunted, “alright Officer Mitchell is keeping watch, call out if either of you need anything.”

With that Bruce was left alone with the boy who had befuddled and befriended his many children. He sat on the opposite bench and thought about how best to approach the young man. Danny had never responded well to Batman and there was no telling how he would respond to Bruce. According to Tim, Danny actually had some respect for Bruce and the money he dumped into bettering Gotham. (When it was announced that the public library was being renovated Danny had interrogated Tim about it and then offered his own opinions on how to involve more of the general population.)

Bruce didn’t think the time called for his “Brucie” persona and he couldn’t be Batman at the moment. He could approach the boy in a “fatherly” manner but that approach rarely worked on his own kids, he didn’t think it would work on this one.

“Have you called anyone?”

Danny looked out from under his arm and stared at Bruce suspiciously. In hindsight it was a creepy question.

Bruce brought his hands up and breathed a laugh, “I’m sorry, I meant have you been given your one phone call?” Danny didn’t move. “Why? You a lawyer?” He eyed Bruce in his nice suit and watch.

Bruce smiled at the boy, “goodness no, I don’t have the attention span for law school. I actually did pre-med before dropping out.”

Danny seemed too curl a little more into himself. It was the most cautious Bruce had ever seen him. He was locked in a Gotham police cell with a man in an expensive suit who seemed completely unconcerned about being arrested, it was wise on Danny’s part to be wary.

Bruce stuck out his hand, “Bruce Wayne.” Slowly, Danny sat up and crossed his arm scoffing, “why would Bruce Wayne be in a holding cell?” Bruce continued to smile at the kid and shrugged, his hand still in the air, “speeding ticket I’m afraid, missed my court date. I do have to say, though, the updated traffic cameras are a good investment by the police department.” “Wayne Enterprises payed for them.” “We did?” Bruce asked, knowing full well it was to give Oracle better camera footage. “You were at the press release.” “Huh.” Bruce looked thoughtful for a minute, “mm no, not ringing any bells. I go to so many of those press conferences, they just bleed together after a while.” “Mhm.” Danny still didn’t take the offered hand. Bruce sighed and let it drop back to his lap, “I’d offer to show you my ID but I don’t exactly have it on me.”

They sat and watched each other for a minute. Danny shifted and seemed to make a decision, “I work at a coffee shop and one of your sons is a regular.” Bruce slapped his thigh as if a light bulb suddenly went off, “You’re Danny! Tim’s mentioned you! You know he’s the only one with a weakness for caffeine, the others like to tease him but I don’t think he has an addiction. However, he does seem to spend a lot of time at that shop.” Bruce leaned forward as if confiding a secret, “to be honest, I think he has a bit of a crush on you.”

Dropping his own arms, Danny sighed. “Yeah, he’s not really that subtle.”

“No, I’m afraid he’s never been good at that. At least not when he’s interested in someone.” Tim was great at subtlety when it came to the mission but never in his personal life. The funny part was he didn’t even draw that distinction on purpose.

“I called a family friend. To answer your question. He should be here soon.” Bruce nodded, “so you do have people you can rely on in town?” “I could have a whole family I can rely on in this city.” Danny said, catching the older man's slip. He shifts further in his seat and stared hard at Bruce.

Bruce knew Danny had no one in town. He did the background check, Danny's whole family lived in Ohio with the exception of his older sister who was in one of the top psychology programs in the country. They seemed to visit each other often but rarely their parents.

The older man dawned an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, I assumed when you said ‘a family friend’.” Bruce leaned back against the wall behind him, “are you from Gotham?”

“No,” Danny shifted further back in his seat and didn’t take his eyes off Bruce.

It was different from how the boy interacted with Batman. To the billionaires alter ego Danny was defiant and outspoken. He always seemed to say what was on his mind, completely uncaring of the audience he had.

——-

“Mr. Fenton, your god-father is here for you.”

Danny never thought he’d feel this relieved to know Vlad was picking him up. While Mr. Wayne had been nothing but polite, something about the man felt off. Danny also didn’t appreciate the questions. What was it to this man if Danny had family near by or not?

One of the cops opens the door with Vlad in his nice suit and overly polished shoes right behind him.

“Daniel, let’s not make this a habit.”

“I was just feeding the homeless dogs!”

“Strays.” Vlad corrected, “while trespassing?”

Danny rolled his eyes and continued pass his “uncle”.

“How am I supposed to know an abandoned building is considered ‘private property’?”

Vlad just sighed.

——

Bonus:

Stephanie would continue to stick to her story, thank you very much. She had every right to punch the creep and she wasn’t backing down. Not even if “the creep” was apparently the son of a very influential prosecutor. A corrupt one, but he was influential nonetheless. Such is the justice system in Gotham.

Even if it landed her in a police station, handcuffed to a desk while said creep cried about the bloody nose she gave him.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she crossed her legs and continued to glare at the door way that led to the holding cells. It was her night off and she still had to deal with this godforsaken city’s degenerate citizens. God forbid she have a day off.

It was while glaring at said door that Steph noticed a familiar boy walking out with a gentleman she wasn’t familiar with. He was a little behind Danny but reached out and grabbed his shoulder, stopping him just before leaving the hallway. Steph slid her gaze away but kept her ears open, grateful she was close enough to hear.

“You need to be more careful, Daniel.”

Danny didn’t respond and Steph looked over to see him pull his shoulder away and start walking again.

“You didn’t have to come all this way to bail me out. I could have called Jazz or Sam.”

“Nonsense, it’s good to get out of Wisconsin.”

Steph wrinkled her nose, Wisconsin? The pair continued out of ear shot and shortly out of the station.

When Bruce was released a few minutes later, Stephanie smiled and took great joy in his obvious (to any member of his family) despair and exasperation at seeing her.

Part 8

[seat-safety-switch]

Do you kids like Jeep Cherokees? On average, you must, because virtually every car today is a worse, softer version of that classic AMC ride. And to be entirely honest with you, this constant low-temperature immersion in crappy unibody SUVs is making me yearn for the original article.

Now, I'm not one of those folks who is going to chase you down the block, waving Kenosha propaganda in your face about how Chrysler is actually the anti-Christ. I'll leave that to the Eagle folks. I am, however, going to be incredibly tiresome about whether anyone you know has a mostly-intact XJ sitting in the garage. A lot of my friends have owned Cherokees, and they've been great shitboxes for all kinds of hillbilly adventures over the years. Unfortunately, they are now almost all gone.

You see, in my part of the world (and pretty much all others, if I'm honest,) rust has devoured the innocent Cherokee. The tinworm crept inside all their guts and found the many, many places that the original automakers just didn't bother painting, or welding, or sealing. I've seen them split straight in half, which is neither conducive to long-distance driving, nor to storing old car parts in (the raccoons will steal them.)

What used to be cheap, fun, beater off-road transport has now become expensive, depressing, and involving several years of meticulously cutting and shaping metal to do major structural repairs. Once you've invested that much effort, there's no way you want to go bang it down some trails, or use it to flee across a cornfield every time the cops light up your illegal fireworks party. Then you have a very nice Jeep Cherokee that you refuse to abuse, which is not at all what owning these things is about.

There is some hope, though. If you look at the Wikipedia page for the Cherokee (hey, use a new tab, not this one) you'll notice that some Chinese automakers made a whole bunch of these things under license. They don't have rust in China, probably, and I'm sure their assembly line workers were slightly less drunk than the Chryco squad who banged these things together over here. All I need to do is get a big cargo ship, and then I can load it up with Shuanghuan SHJZH213s until the cows come home. You've got some frequent flyer miles, right?

[asvterias]

𝖫𝖺𝗓𝗒 𝖣𝖺𝗒 & 𝖫𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖲𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 ~ 𝖣𝗂𝗈𝗋 𝖦𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗃𝗈𝗁𝗇

dior masterlist

warnings: none!!

pairings: dior goodjohn ✘ black!fem!reader

genres: reader is an excellent baker, dior calling reader mamas (OMFG- 😩) cocky!dior, reader is VERY squeamish around snakes, gym!dior (JUST BCS), just cute sweet fluff between reader & dior, dior’s fans LOVE the couple

summary: spending a lazy day with your actress girlfriend while sometimes being involved on an instagram live is your favorite way to bypass quality time. wanting to help soothe your girlfriend’s stress from the production of her first song, ‘Focus’, so you decided to bake dior’s favorite cookies.

word count: 4.5k+

tag list: @addil244 @onxlyficcharacter @wtafaidh @mymyapplesigh @444-polar @sinmalssimp @silent-phantom120 @glwmcres @f4riedimples @babyzzlove @lov3rgirllll

author’s note: kinda a self-indulgent fanfic ngl. also if dior says she doesn’t like fanfictions about her, then i will delete this. i don’t wanna overstep any boundaries and make her uncomfortable.

Being bored in your house alone wasn’t as entertaining when you actually had the energy to make it enjoyable. Your parents and older brother had gone out for the day and your little sister, Leah spent the afternoon with her friends Walker and Aryan. Unfortunately, Dior was unable to keep you company as well, tending to her schedule. Since your girlfriend was occupied at the studio with the producers, practicing for her new hit single ‘Focus’, she couldn’t just ditch and be with you. She had her own life, consumed by other priorities that didn’t involve you.

Now, you weren’t an actress like your sister and girlfriend, yet you had a decent lifestyle despite Dior trying to spoil you endlessly with gifts from famous name brands.

Dior Goodjohn, there were so many words to describe her. Beloved multi-talented actress, who’s been a doting affectionate girlfriend of 2 years and overall a great girl in your life.

The car ride to your girlfriend’s apartment was a simple 30-minute drive and the entrance into her apartment was even easier. For your 1st anniversary gift, Dior gave you a spare house key, trusting you enough with that, telling you to come over whenever. She didn’t mind your presence beside her as she always admires your surprise visits.

It was her with the suggestion of you two living together, but neither of your parents ever allowed it, considering you’re still minors. Although you two were disappointed in their final decision, the couple made the extra effort and hosted as many sleepovers as possible.

Deciding upon doing an Instagram live whilst you waited for your girlfriend to arrive back home. Supposedly, she was busy with her first new single on the way called ‘Focus’ and you understood everything. The late nights returning back home, her exhausted state, all of it, you witnessed and supported her all the way. Whenever Dior needed you, you were there at her beck and call, helping her relax when the impending stress became too overwhelming.

An hour ago, she had sent a text, reassuring you that she’ll be home soon. By the time she’d reached home, it’d been almost nightfall, the evening disappearing.

Once you’ve started the live, you greet the fans with a quick wave and smile, observing the number of fans joining your live. At first, you didn’t keep the conversation short with them, updating them on your whereabouts.

Walking into the kitchen, you took the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies and grabbed the materials needed. Tending to the chocolate chip cookie dough as you silently read over the simple recipe placed on the counter.

Just in time, there was loud shuffling heard outside the front door and you squealed in excitement. Your beloved girlfriend had finally reached back home. Dior has been consumed at the studio, all with the anxious release of her first new single ‘Focus’. Sometimes your girlfriend invites you over to the studio to preview her song with her and honestly share some helpful insight on it.

When she walked into the apartment, her tensed shoulders relaxed and her droopy eyes lit up at the sight of you. There you were in all your glory; her beautiful girlfriend to the rescue, providing her that gorgeous smile and unlimited cuddles of comfort. She’ll always cherish her moments with you, no matter how long time will grant. Closing the door and locking it behind her, she sends you a cheery smile, discarding her bag on the floor.

Very tiredly, she staggered over to the kitchen where you were.

“Hey mamas,” She greets you, eagerly accepting your inviting hug, giving you a soft short kiss on the lips.

“My wifey is back home!” You grinned, shoving her presence in the camera, hugging her tightly.

“How was your day?” She asked.

“So boring until you arrived.”

“Hey guys,” she waved with phone in hand and her other hand still wrapped around your waist, keeping you secure in her grasp. You felt the beads of sweat on her forehead, cheeks flushed and her breathing seemed erratic. Her outfit was quite appealing to the eye, wearing a black Nike gym outfit and the kitchen light glared onto her toned stomach, causing you to be flustered.

Probably just redressed in her backup gym clothes and finished a late-night gym workout to help ease her worries. She always did so whenever her nerves got the better of her.

Often, she’d be gym buddies with Charlie but not tonight, looks like she wanted to be alone.

“Go take a shower,” you whispered in her ear, scrunching up your nose when she boops your nose, “You’re all sweaty and shit.”

“I was planning to.”

You nodded assuredly and released yourself from Dior’s hug, watching your girlfriend leave the kitchen, heading to her bathroom to take a nice shower. Staring at her figure until she disappeared behind the door, your back facing the camera and you redirected your attention back to the live.

For the time being, you comfortably sat on the kitchen counter, gaining a sudden sweet tooth, and munched down on the chocolate chips while answering the viewer’s questions. After you got a toothache from the sweetness of the chocolate chips, you balanced it out with warm water. Suddenly you gained the random urge to bake cookies, rather than continue your process of it. For some reason, you started creating the cookie dough, but ultimately got distracted and impatient…and also bored of doing so. As a matter of fact, you remembered snacking on the chocolate chips and answering questions on your live not even 30 minutes ago. You shake your head at the recent memory, amused by your own tactics, and now determined to surprise your exhausted girlfriend with a hot batch of delicious cookies downed with a fresh glass of milk.

Everything about this was the perfect timing. To help soothe your girlfriend and impress her fans with your amazing baking skills. Mostly, it was to help your stressed girlfriend.

You leaned forward, one hand still holding the mixing spoon, and squinted your eyes as you read a live comment, “Where is Dior right now?”

“Ummm….she’s in the shower because she just recently reached home.”

That statement sparked brand new questions for fans to ask:

‘Do you like Dior’s body build?’

‘Are you two gym buddies?’

‘Bet you absolutely love seeing Dior work out! 😉’

‘Where’s your little sister Leah??”

“Of course I do, everything involving Dior I’m obsessed with! Absolutely not, I can’t work out to save my life, and no I’m not my sister’s bodyguard!” You chuckle, applying the dry ingredients into the mixing bowl.

‘What are you making?’

You showed the camera the mixing bowl filled with raw cookie dough, which lacked the chocolate chips yet.

“Chocolate chip cookies, they’re Dior’s favorite,” You said, “She’s such a sweet tooth.”

@: ‘Aww, Y/N’s soo sweet.’

@: ‘Wish I had a gf to bake my favorite treats!’

“Good thing, Dior always has a spare chocolate chip bag around here.” You bite your lip, “Just need to get my hands on them.”

Deeply invested in your baking, you didn’t recognize how quickly time passed by when Dior appeared behind you, instantly going for your warm touch. She inhales your scent, hugs you from behind, and peppers your face and neck with innocent kisses, enjoying the erupting giggles from you.

“Never mind you guys, Dior’s here.”

Your head sashays with every movement making your braids tickle her skin lightly.

Paying no attention to her presence, you stirred the pot listening to her low humming while rocking you side to side. These were the days that Dior loved, a chance to catch a breather and soak in relaxation days with you.

Her eyes analyzed the Instagram live on your phone.

“Where did you hide the spare chocolate chip bag?”

“Like, I’d tell you,” she scoffs, “Last time I told you where I hid the chocolate chips, I heard you in the middle of the night, snacking on them. We had an unprepared visit to the dentist the following morning and we both know you hate going to the dentist.”

“That was an inconvenience!”

“No, No! That was karma, I warned you multiple times to not eat so many sweets at one time. You’re just a stubborn girl.”

“Yeah, and so what I’m your stubborn girl,” You leaned closer towards her, noses hovering over the other as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Which makes me your problem!”

“Oh, you’re a problem, alright.”

“Yeah, your prettiest problem too!”

She huffed as you consistently pestered about the other hidden bag of chocolate chips, finally being convinced by your whining. You beamed in excitement, gripping the fresh bag as you sauntered back over to the mixing bowl.

Another buzz feed of comments was spiraling your girlfriend’s way.

@: ‘The cutest couple to ever exist!!’

@: ‘Couple goals fr!’

@: ‘How long have you and Y/N been dating?’

Dior informs them, “We’ve been dating for 2 years, our anniversary is coming up soon.”

“What you gonna get me?”

“It’s a surprise, my love.”

“I do love surprises,”

“I know you do.”

“Just don’t pop up with no snake.” You said, your sweet tone disappears.

“Someone popped up with a snake thinking it’ll be funny.” You referred to Dior with an unimpressed look.

“Update it was.”

“Show up with a snake again, and I swear someone is getting punched.”

“You wouldn’t punch me, my face is too pretty for that kinda damage.”

“Well, I’m obviously not punching the snake!”

“You wouldn’t punch me.”

“If you bring a snake I just might,” Obviously, you were kidding. You’d never do that to your sweet beloved girlfriend.

She frowns slightly, rethinking her upcoming words.

“Last time it wasn’t funny! Everyone knows I don’t fuck with reptiles, especially snakes.”

“That just means she likes you!” Dior insisted.

“I don’t care, that goddamn yellow snake can like me at a safe distance behind a glass cage at the petting zoo!” You shout, “Either that or nothing!”

“You guys see what I have to deal with on a daily,” Dior points to you, sarcasm laced in her tone, “Such a drama queen.”

Nodding along to your girlfriend’s statement as you applied the chocolate chips to the batch of raw cookie dough.

“Yet, she loves this drama queen,” you retorted.

Dior scans some more of the fans’ comments.

@: ‘DIOR PLEASE POST THE SINGLE OUT NOW 🙏🏾🙏🏾!!’

@: ‘OMG HOW IS FOCUS GOING??’

@: ‘CAN WE GET ANOTHER TEASER??’

“Sorry guys, I already said when Focus is getting released and unless you’re my girl, you don’t get a preview.” She confirms with the viewers, “Also it’s going really well.”

@: ‘Omg they’re so cute, it’s not even funny!’

@: ‘When will this happen to me??’

@: ‘How was the preview Y/N??’

“It was fucking awesome,” you answered the last commenter, “Like her voice is so beautiful, like I fell in love with her a million times over again, it’s completely outrageous.”

“We can’t wait for you guys to hear it!” Dior cheers.

“All of your ears will be certainly blessed after hearing her magnetic voice, I know I was.” You agreed.

“Aren’t you quite the flatterer.”

“I’m just being a supportive girlfriend who’s always honest with you.”

“Never said I didn’t like the compliments,”

“Baby, can you preheat the oven to 350 degrees for me?” You gently asked her.

Dior remained quiet, complying with your request, walking to the oven, and preheating it. She skipped back over to you, arms wrapped around your waist, continuing to hug you from behind, gazing at you. You started to ball the cookie dough, your tongue sticking out slightly in concentration as the silence in the atmosphere was turning palpable.

“Why are you so quiet?” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, turning to the curly-haired girl, pausing your movements.

“Nothing…it’s just you’re so beautiful.” She murmured, taken away by your beauty. “Gimmie a kiss…” she puckered her lips, leaning into you.

Instead of giving in to her demands, you swipe a decent amount of remaining flour on your finger, smearing it across your girlfriend’s cheek.

“Did you just—?” her eyes widened in shock, glancing at the flour placed on her cheek.

“I did!” you giggled, applying another ounce of flour on her other cheek, “And I’m not even sorry,”

@: ‘You can’t tell me they aren’t in love, like just look at them!’

“You’re lucky you’re so cute and adorable,” she pouts, swiping an ounce of flour on your nose.

“Not the only reason you’re letting me off so easy,” you whine as she places her head into the crevice of your neck, still placing tiny kisses there.

Her voice was muffled. “We can always order in, you know that, princess.” you turned off the stove, leaving Dior’s fingers lingering on your stomach.

“I know,” you sigh, turning around to face your girlfriend and her hands immediately redirect on your waist. you tried to avoid eye contact, in hopes of getting your point across without being distracted but her hazel eyes remained on you. “I just wanted to do something special for you cause you deserve it and I wanted to help brighten your day.” Finally, you manage to gaze into Dior’s eyes only to find her already admiringly staring back.

You never took in her outfit, eyes slowly trailing down at her body. She wore a white Nike sports bra with gray shorts and her hair was still damp from the shower.

You didn’t realize you were checking her out until Dior pointed it out.

“Gorgeous, my eyes are up here.” She teases, chuckling slightly at your reaction towards her clothing.

“I don’t need a fresh pair of my favorite cookies to know that you love me. Just you being here brightens up my day and I want you to know that.” her fingers glide over your cocoa-brown skin, drinking in your skin tone with her delicate touch. “I appreciate every single thing that you have to offer, because, believe me, I’d be a damn fool if I ever let you go.”

You chuckle and caress her face, slightly stroking her cheek. “I love you so much, Dior.”

“I love you too, mi amor.” she leaned in for a kiss and you complied, making her hum and deepen the kiss. completely mesmerized by the passionate kiss, you didn’t react when you felt two arms lifting you by the thighs, throwing your body onto her shoulder like you weighed nothing. She patted your hips twice, turning to the phone and sending the viewers a wink before carrying you over to the couch.

“No!! Babe, Dior…put me down!!” you mercifully pleaded with your girlfriend but it was rendered useless when she finally dropped you out of her hands…and right onto the couch which was nearby. The Instagram live was able to see you two, only at a farther distance.

You end up lying upside down on the couch as your braids hang over the floor and your legs dangle in mid-air. Dior’s laughs fill the atmosphere and the butterflies flutter in your stomach, due to slight embarrassment and amusement.

“Alright jokes over, help me up now, Dior.” you held out your hand, eager for reliance.

“Oh no, that’s the oldest trick in the book. I’m not gonna fall for that one.”

You roll your eyes, pulling yourself up using your elbows as support, and hastily grab her shirt and pull her down with you. A shocked gasp left her lungs as she tumbled down beside you and once she’s recovered from her fall, she turned to look at you.

With your hand still gripping her shirt, and instead of another sudden ambush, you pulled her in for a soft kiss, gently pecking her lips and giving her the widest grin you could’ve displayed.

“Now we both know that you could do better than that.”

Your harsh grip on her sweatshirt loosened, and this time Dior leaned in and kissed you tenderly, highly content that you reciprocated the action back. The brunette pulled away, “Great, now can we order in? You know, you’re my girl and all, who I wholeheartedly adore, but I don’t want to be sick for the rest of the week.”

You feign shock, shoving her in the stomach as she dramatically acts being hurt, clutching onto her stomach, and falling on the floor. You were truly offended at your girlfriend’s words while she just laughed boisterously.

“I could so cook!” You argued.

“I love you gorgeous, but no you can’t.”

You throw the couch pillow, hurling the item towards her face. Much to your dismay, Dior’s reaction time was faster, stretching a hand out to block the flying pillow and catching it.

“Guess you’ll be on a kissing ban.” You cross your arms and twist your nose in the air.

“No, I won’t.”

She stood up menacingly, stalking closer towards you, making you look at her and unfurl your folded arms.

“Oh yes, you will,”

“You’re gonna seriously ban me from your kisses all because I said you’re a horrible cook.” Dior defends herself, “You’re an excellent baker now.”

“I’m petty as hell, don’t forget it.”

“I thought you meant pretty as hell,” Dior smirks.

“That too!”

“You bet your ass you are.” She pinches your thigh.

“Wow, thanks for the compliment, d,” You roll your eyes.

“No problem, princess.” she kissed your knuckles before trailing up your arms and halting at your collarbones, “You drown in my compliments, and I love to see it.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever,” you murmur, a fond smile tugging at the ends of your lip.

Her hot breath fanned over your ear. “Come on, babe.” she groans against your skin, pressing a chaste kiss behind your ear, missing the way you squirmed lightly from her ticklish lips. Her energetic eyes met yours once again as she spoke, “Let’s order takeout, Chipotle, your favorite, it’s all on me.”

“How can I say no to that?”

She shifted her weight from you, allowing some space since she was lying on top of you, making you escape much easier from her embrace.

Keeping you on her watchful gaze, you venture to the dining room table to retrieve the Chipotle menu.

“Or how can you see no to me?” She states when you returned back to the living room.

“Real smooth, Goodjohn.” your sentence rolls off your tongue with ease. You swore you witnessed Dior shudder at the sultry tone of your voice, mentioning her last name. The vulnerable sight of your cocky girlfriend made a smile widen across your face.

“Isn’t that how I’m dating you? You were swooned by my alluring charm?!” she questioned, staring at you, curious for the answer. “Or unless,” she gasps shockingly, causing you to resist the temptation of rolling your eyes, “You’re only with me for my body and popularity,”

“No no you were a sexy dumbass and I was your smart savior,” you reaffirmed her accusations. “You being an uprising celebrity is just one of the many advantages,”

“Whatever, you fell for me and my charms, regardless,”

You huff, crossing your arms as you avoid Dior’s gaze. “I like you because of you,”

“Damn right you did,” she pulled you in closer by the waist, “And I know you wouldn’t change me for anything.”

“I hate it when you’re right,” you scoff.

“Oh but I love it when I’m right,” Dior chuckles, bringing your lips onto yours, pouting slightly when you refuse the kiss. “Makes me feel like I’ve beaten you at something,”

Her mood brightens when you change your mind, settling for a quick peck on the lips.

Anything was better than nothing, Dior supposed, but then immediately disagreed. She grew irritated at the lack of your attention, at this point feeling it was better if you didn’t reward her with a kiss anyway. Snapping her eyes at you, sending a glare of irritation, observing the cocky grin on your face.

This sneaky little vixen, Dior thought as she maintained eye contact with you. Of course, you were fully aware of Dior’s total hatred towards light kisses, and to give her a peck was so wrong in many ways. Clearly, it meant you didn’t love her anymore and that peck was the first sign of you losing interest in her.

Dior shook her head, disposing of those thoughts, knowing she was being a dramatic queen right now.

“Keep this attitude up and you’ll be sleeping on the couch,” you snarled, hoping your demanding tone would encourage Dior to oblige. Oh, Dior loves your confidence, but not when it was used against her.

It was necessary to humble you, right then and there, or else you’ll never learn your lesson. After all, you were a very smart girl and not a stupid one, it wasn’t your tendency to make frequent mistakes like this.

Without saying a word, she squeezes your stomach, her hands slithering their way upwards against your chest and you release a tiny squeal of shock. Dior had her gaze locked down on you during the whole time. You refused to look your girlfriend in the eyes as you closed your eyes, internally cursing yourself for being so submissive to her actions. and rather, a very simple action at that too. God, you thought you had more pride than you let on.

Guessing it was Dior’s way of saying; don’t bite off more than you can chew.

“No, I won’t, and I know you won’t do that. You’ll miss me too much,” she admitted, grinning at the scowl appearing on your lips. your girlfriend shuffles slightly on you, keeping her warm hands underneath the hoodie you wore, “Baby, don’t scowl, it promotes ugly wrinkles.”

That comment earned Dior a flick to her forehead and you pushed her to the floor, giggling at her dejected groans of pain.

You looked at your phone, grabbed it, and flipped the camera, showing your girlfriend sprawled out on the floor. Her beautiful curls spread across the carpeted floor as she squints her eyes at you.

On Instagram live, comments and viewers flooded in alike, observing the sapphic couple.

“Look at this dumbass,” You stated, bringing the phone closer to her as you straddled her lap. Instinctively, her arms rest on your hips, lightly tracing imaginary patterns on the clothed flesh. Limbs tangled together, constant swooning with each other through quick stares, and the faint giggles erupting from both of you filled the quiet atmosphere.

“Not too close,” she warns, puckering her lips, “My lips are all yours.” Out of the camera, your girlfriend kisses your cheek and then

“Gimmie a kiss and a real one this time!” Dior demands, mumbling it to you.

You pressed her lips against yours softly, seemingly making the kiss sweet and innocent. Tugging one of Dior’s loose curls that dangled in her face, you pulled it behind her ear as your lips moved as one. You adored Dior’s hair, thick voluminous curls flowing down to her neck and you couldn’t resist playing it in when she was close.

She could kiss you a billion times, and that still wouldn’t suffice for you, Dior made sure you know that on numerous occasions, often being the one to overextend your kisses. You felt your girlfriend’s smile in the kiss as she deepened it, her grip on your waist tightening.

It was one of those slow and steady kisses that you cherished with her. There was no need to rush your makeout, a calm chaste kiss sealed the deal and got the point across. Dior was just drowning in your lips, never reluctant to refuse your kisses, moving on one accord.

She couldn’t go on with another minute without your loving kisses. Those kisses shared with you, your soft and sweet lips, were like nicotine to her, a special type of drug, stupidly yearning for your lips even more. You were Dior’s drug and she was your addiction. Insanely addicted to your lips making her act crazy, practically begging on her knees for an ounce of your attention, wondering if you saw her in the same light she perceived for you.

Sucking in a breath as the kiss intensified, one of Dior’s hands traveled to your lower back as the other remained on your hips, lightly squeezing the flesh there. You moaned in the kiss, spurring your girlfriend further on as she tugged at your lower lips, biting down gently, hardly enticing any discomfort from you.

Dior gave you time to adjust yourself again as she stared at you in contentment. Your hand teasingly runs down from the crevices of her breasts down to her toned abdomen and her breath hitched at this. However, she gains dominance as her hands grip the flesh of your thighs, squeezing down on them as you shuffle slightly.

Eventually leading up to the risk of getting insanely high, and resisting the temptation to become sober. Never take the risk of being sober if it means that she gets to be high off of you every day, obsessed by everything you achieved. Like hell was your girlfriend was gonna waste the chance of losing your touch once more, she’d be crazy enough to beat those allegations.

“I’m your….” Dior clarified, lips swollen from the intense making out. The camera frame caught onto her loose curls and barely the side of her face, “Sexy dumbass, you said so yourself,” She nods reassuringly, smiling slightly at your laughter.

“Think that’s it for today, we’ll see you later!” You concluded, and gave Dior your phone, displaying her presence on the live, “Say goodbye Dior!”

“Bye, you guys! Love ya!” Dior blows an air kiss at the phone screen. She ended the Instagram live and placed the phone on the coffee table as you both sat upright.

“Damn, baby,” she chuckles, wiping away the flour from her cheek. Her gaze never left you, peering at the flour mess on your face too. Your girlfriend smirks at you, “Looks like we’re gonna both take a shower sooner than expected.”

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

© asvterias, 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works onto any other platforms without my permission.

[hannahbarberra162]

Struck Twice By Lightning, Chapter 13

18+ MDNI on Ao3

Link to all chapters

TW: jealousy

A few days later and you were laying on the bed in the early evening, resting after a huge supper. You felt like a snake, basking in the sun after a large meal. And like a snake, you didn’t think you’d want to eat again for another month. Damn Lucky and his fantastic chicken pot pie. Laying there, you heard the ringing of your den den mushi.

Puru puru puru puru puru puru

You looked at the Buggy snail and your mouth twisted. You still hadn’t called him back after all his missed calls. You didn’t want to worry him but you hadn’t wanted to hear how he was right, how you screwed up, and how you shouldn’t have gone with Shanks in the first place. The worst part of it all was, he was right. But he didn’t deserve to be left hanging for so long. You rolled off the bed and grabbed the snail, bringing it to sit on the bed with you.

“Hi.” 

“About time, babe. I was getting worried. I was gonna leave for the Grand Line if I didn’t hear back from you soon.” You felt guilty, Buggy really was a good friend.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just kinda…going through it.” Buggy hummed through the snail.

“Yeah, I’d imagine so. Everyone and their Captain saw the article. That's all anyone is talking about.” You cringed. You had some small naive hope that everyone would forget about it after the next big story broke. “You looked great, though. At least they got a good picture of you.” 

“Yeah, I mean but did you see Shanks? That asshole has never taken a bad picture.”

“Fuck him, did you at least stab him? I have no doubt that it’s his fault somehow.” You laughed, something Buggy could always get you to do. It was Shank’s fault, but you didn’t want to poison Buggy against Shanks even more.

“Unfortunately, I didn’t. Thought about it though.”

“Do you want me to come get you?” You knew Buggy’s offer was sincere. But you’d thought about that too - the only place that you’d really be safe would be with an Emperor. Buggy was strong, but not if someone like Linlin or Kaido wanted to get you. They’d send wave after wave of powerful fighters, Emperors had a shared quality of being goal oriented when they wanted something or someone.

“No, but thanks. I’m gonna ride on the Dead Horse with Stanks. I think it’ll be OK, at least for a while. If I need you, I’ll make my way out to the East Blue.”

“Like hell you will, if you need me, I’ll come out there. We can stab that idiot together, as a bonding activity.”

“Hi Buggy!” The man himself had appeared, entering the cabin through the doorway. He walked over and sat next to you on the bed, leaning back on you as if you were a sitting pillow.

“Fuck off,” Buggy replied angrily. This was the first time they’d directly interacted since you’d been on board. 

“Aw, c’mon Bugs, I haven’t talked to you in forever.” Shanks was pouting. He had a lot of love for Buggy, but it wasn’t always reciprocated. You understood why, but it still made you a little sad.

“Fuck off,” Buggy repeated. “Why do you have to fuck things up for everyone you’re involved with? It’s like the Mierdas touch, everything you touch turns to shit.” Shanks laughed.

“That’s a good one, never heard it before. But it's not true! How was I supposed to know -”

“- that your actions have consequences? Gee, Shanks, I don’t know, it’s a lesson most of us have learned by our thirties. Anyway, fuck you. Doll, listen, say the word and I’ll set sail. Kisses.” 

“Love ya, Bug.” You hung up the snail. Shanks was looking at you with an amused expression. “What?” 

“Why did you call it the ‘Dead Horse? ‘Stanks’ I get, no questions asked. Buggy’s been calling me that since we were 12.”

“Oh, ‘cus the presence of your ship is like beating a dead horse. We get it - you’re Shanks and the Red Haired Pirates . No need for all the fuss.” You waved your hand at him dismissively.

“It’s not my fault we’re greeted with fanfare everywhere! I didn’t ask for it, people like me!” Shanks scoffed.

“ Some people like you, sure,” you said, rolling your eyes with a smirk.

“And some people like being tickled,” Shanks replied. Your smirk dropped but as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he’d grabbed your foot with his hand and yanked your leg into the air. 

“Ha! Whatcha gonna do now? No other hand to tickle with!” You were weakly trying to kick him.

“This.” Shanks licked the sole of your foot, causing you to shriek. 

“Shanks!! That’s absolutely disgusting! Don’t do thaaaaa-” but you couldn’t finish your sentence as he licked it again and you were laughing. 

“You’re right, that’s too hard with one hand. How about here?” He pinned your legs under his and started tickling the inside of your thighs. You were laughing hard.

“Stanks! Stop!” You weren’t serious, you knew he’d stop if you changed your tone.

“Stanks, is it? You really want to play hard ball, huh?” He pinned your arm under a knee and tickled your side up to your armpit. You were laughing so much tears were coming out of your eyes.

“O-k ok ok I surrender! I won’t call you Stanks!” He moved off you, freeing your arm while your giggles subsided. “Fake surrender!” You launched yourself over him and started tickling him back. You knew Shanks was letting you hold him down, but it was still fun. The two of you were goofing off for a while, ending with you leaning down over him, breathing heavily, with his one large hand pinned by both of yours.

“So, what do I get for defeating the Emperor?” 

“You can keep me as a prize of war,” Shanks rasped, wrapping his legs around your waist. You moved your face closer to his. 

“Mmm, not sure about that. What makes you worth keeping?”

“This,” he said as he leaned forward and kissed you on the lips. You pressed forward, lying down on top of him, releasing his hand. You ran your nails down his chest, feeling the muscle twitch under your fingertips. You’d been having a lot of soft moments with Shanks recently. You still fell into bouts of sadness and loss, but there was no other solution you could see. You were sailing back to your island and you’d be there before you knew it. Life would continue in some kind of way, but right now you were enjoying time with your…husband.

You kissed him along his prominent collar bones, leading to the hollow of his neck. You spent some time there, flicking your tongue on the sensitive areas. Shanks was moaning, gripping your ass and thrusting up slowly, turned on by your actions. You whipped off your shirt and bra, throwing them onto the floor. You leaned forward so your breasts dangled in front of his mouth. He quickly captured one nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting. He released it only to put the other in. You had undone his belt and were shimmying his pants down his legs. You didn’t want to wait any longer, you could feel you were already wet. 

You didn’t even remove your own clothes, just moved your skirt aside. You sat up a bit, taking your breasts away from Shank’s eager mouth. You hooked your panties to the side and sank down onto Shank’s eager cock. As you lowered yourself, you groaned. This is exactly what you needed. The stretch always felt good, but this time you wished you could make it last. You started bouncing on Shanks, pulling your hips down harder with every stroke.

“Come on, Love. I’m here for you,” Shanks was talking to you sweetly as you used him to get to your peak. You suddenly felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes but you didn’t know why. You shifted yourself to lay down next to him, hoping Shanks would take up the mantle and fuck you while spooning. You wanted to continue but were feeling too raw to have Shanks watch you. Shanks looked down at your face but didn’t say anything. He pulled out and fixed your panties, covering you up once more. He pulled your back flush to his front, gently kissing your face, while your tears threatened to spill.

“Where’d you go? Come back to me,” Shanks said softly. That made the dam break and you started crying.

“I’m s-sorry Shanks. I don’t know what’s w-wrong with me,” you cried, covering your face with your hands.

“Nothing’s wrong with you. Take whatever you need, I’ll always wait for you.” That just made you cry harder. Shanks comforted you until your tears ended, letting you cry into his chest. 

“S-sorry,” you eventually said. You felt bad about starting something you couldn’t finish and ending it with a huge crying session. Shanks turned your face to his and kissed you. 

“Don’t be. I love you.” You blinked. That was the first time he’d said it directly. Maybe you weren’t the only one guarding your heart this second time around. He joked and teased and beat around the bush but rarely expressed his emotions so frankly.

“I love you too.” You put your forehead against his. “Guess you’re stuck with me now.”

“Wouldn’t want it any other way,” he replied. 

~~~

It didn’t take too long to get to your island since you’d only been with Shanks for a few weeks at that point. The closer you got, the more anxious you became. You were nervous to see what remained in and of your house. You were on edge as the Red Force docked near your island and you were chewing your nails to shreds as the dingy brought you to the wharf. Unfortunately, the article had brought notoriety to the island and to you, so locals were waiting to catch a glimpse of you and Shanks together.

“Leave,” was all he said. He was serious, intimidating, and had his hand resting on Gryphon's hilt. The villagers, all of whom you knew, quickly dispersed to their houses. 

“You didn’t have to do that, they’re just townsfolk.” You felt awkward that the people who sold you milk were being threatened by one of the most powerful pirates in the world.

“Did you want one of them taking another picture of you and I together to sell to Morgan?” You pursed your lips. You were hoping the story would die down, Shanks had a point. You walked hand in hand towards your little house. From the outside, it didn't look too bad. Your garden was a little trampled, but someone had been watering it.

You pushed open the now unlocked door, braced for the worst. Shanks trailed in behind you, inspecting various trinkets you’d gathered over the years. You were surprised to see most of your belongings still in their places. You went from room to room, looking for your favorite possessions - a knife from Buggy, an empty bottle from the first sake you’d sold, old pictures of friends, and they were all where you expected them to be. You went into your office and found someone had rifled through all your documents, but you had been expecting that. You yelled to Shanks through the open door of your office.

“Shanks, you’re not going to believe this, almost everything is still here! And unbroken, too. I was so sure this place would have been looted, but no -” Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shock of blond hair.

“You’re welcome yoi,” said a familiar voice.

~~~

You skipped up to your old friend and gave him a hug around his middle. “Marco! What are you doing here?”

“Buggy called in a favor and asked me to watch over your house yoi. Prevent looting, stealing, that kind of thing. He said you’d be by soon and I was in the area anyway.” God, you loved Buggy. You really needed to send him a gift after all he'd done for you. 

“Honeydew, I can’t believe you kept this old shell from that beach -” Shanks was walking back to you, holding a shell in his hand. He stopped short when he saw Marco. Internally, you groaned. 

“Shanks, Marco’s the reason the house wasn’t looted. He’s been staying here.” Shanks smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Thanks, Marco. Owe ya one.” 

“That’s so kind of you, Marco, I really appreciate it.” You beamed at The Phoenix, who popped a tomato in his mouth. “Was it you who watered the plants?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t leave them parched. You have a great little house yoi. It’s so cozy and comfortable, I relaxed more than I have in years. You have great taste in interior design yoi.”

“Yeah, she does, doesn’t she?” Shanks had come to stand next to you and hooked his arm around your middle. You wanted to roll your eyes - you’d already told Shanks you hadn’t slept with Marco, he didn’t need to be jealous. 

“Thank you, I spent a lot of time over the years getting everything just right. Listen, I’d like to invite you to dinner, it’s the very least I can do,” you said. You were incredibly grateful, he’d saved you a lot of heartache. 

“-That WE can do,” Shanks interrupted with a laugh. You’d meant the invitation to include Shanks, but hadn’t specified. 

“Thank you, that sounds great. But it really was no problem yoi. Always ready to help a friend in need,” he said, smiling. He leaned against your office bookcase, holding a tomato from your garden in his other hand.

“Here, would you like it? They’ve been coming in, they’re good yoi.” Marco underhand tossed the fruit to you. Shanks let go of your waist and caught it. 

“Thanks, bud.” Shanks was trying to speak casually but was failing. He looked like he wanted to throw you over his shoulder and haul you off to the nearest cave. The twinkle in Marco’s eyes told you he was enjoying riling up Shanks. This time you did roll your eyes. This would not end well for someone, probably you. 

“Quit it,” you whispered angrily, turning to Shanks. Marco pretended not to hear. You turned back to Marco. “Please, feel free to stay here as long as you’d like. I’ll get dinner later today, I still need to get my house in order. It will be our pleasure.” You dragged Shanks out the back door of the house by his empty sleeve.

“What are you doing?!” you whisper yelled at him.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?” he wasn’t yelling, but Shanks wasn’t happy. “ You’re the one trying to go on a date with Marco.” You tutted at him.

“You’re being ridiculous, and you know it. Marco was helping as a friend after Buggy called him. You heard all that, right? Behave or I’ll uninvite you to dinner.” You would too, you didn’t have a lot of patience for Shanks’s jealousy. Shanks huffed.

“Fine, we’ll have the rooster over for dinner. But I’m gonna call you my wife the entire time .” If your eyes rolled any harder, they’d be out of your head.

~~~

You hadn’t specified that you’d be the one cooking dinner for a reason. You weren’t the best cook on the Grand Line, to say the least. You bribed Lucky to make the dinner for the three of you with a large bottle of sake. He obliged and made a fantastic orange duck dish with jasmine rice. Of course, you brought out a nice bottle of wine and some sake, unsure which Marco would prefer. You were setting the table while Shanks sat in your overstuffed armchair.

“This thing’s great, we should bring it back to the ship.” You hummed in response.

“I know it’s great, that’s why I bought it. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with the house and most of my belongings. It’s not like I can bring it all with me.” Shanks was messing around and finally found the lever for the footrest. He pulled it and launched himself backwards, enjoying the full recline.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely coming with us. Now, if I had this chair when you first came on board I wouldn’t have had to sleep in the bed.”

“Shanks, be serious for a minute. What should I do with the house? I can’t be here at any regular intervals. I guess I’ll have to sell it.” The thought made you sad - you really loved this house. 

“Sell it? Why?” Shanks asked.

“Well, it’s not like I’ll be here to stop anyone from taking things, and I don’t want to ask Marco -” Shanks cut you off with a wave of his hand.

“No one’s gonna take anything from here. I’m gonna spread the word that this is my vacation house. No one will touch it. And maybe we really can vacation here, this place is great.” 

“Do you think that will work?” You gnawed at your fingernail, while setting the final silverware down.

“Sure, I’m not an Emperor for nothing. Keep your house, keep your stuff, take whatever you want with you. But we’re bringing this chair.”

~~~

The dinner was lovely, except for two things. The first was Shanks and the second was Marco. Shanks was in a pissy mood, trying to cover it up but not quite succeeding. Marco kept making little comments to annoy Shanks and they hit their mark every time. 

“Thank you again for watching over my house, Marco,” you said, pouring him a cup of sake. Shanks had sat right next to you and kept trailing his fingers up your thigh during the meal. Which was incredibly obvious because he had to stop eating to do it, due to having only one hand. You slapped it away as discreetly as you could.

“My pleasure yoi. I always enjoy coming here.” Marco gave a little half smile as he sipped his drink. Shanks stiffened incrementally. “This is excellent, is this aged?”

“Yeah, this is an older batch. It’s pretty good, I was thinking of entering it in a competition.” Maybe you could enter neutral territory by talking about work.

“My wife is so modest, it’s better than ‘pretty good.” Shanks kissed your cheek. He had kept his word and was referring to you only as his wife. 

“Mh. Speaking of which, were you thinking of gifting Whitebeard another bottle for his birthday? I can bring you that tokkuri if you want to use it again.” You rubbed one temple. These two idiots were going to be the death of you.

“I didn’t know you made sake for Whitebeard. How…thoughtful of you.” Shanks said through his teeth. 

“Just once, and no, I don’t think I can. I’ll be sailing with Shanks now, and the ship isn’t a great place for brewing.” Maybe you could move to Laughtale and live happily ever after by yourself.

“So you are still married? Last you said, you wanted to get divorced yoi.” Marco said it like he was talking about the weather but you swore Shanks’s haki was starting to build. Maybe you’d kill Marco before you moved to Laughtale. Or Shanks, whichever made your life easier.

“We’re still married,” Shanks gritted out, taking your hand in his. “My wife couldn’t get rid of me so easily.” He kissed the back of your hand. Marco smiled calmly. 

“It’s rare to see you like this, Shanks,” Marco said with a raised brow and knowing smile. Shanks was already moving his hand towards you under the table. 

“Like what?” You said as you swatted Shanks’s hand for the millionth time off your inner thigh.

“Jealous. I only ever see you relaxed or serious, with nothing in between yoi. Your wife is the only person I’ve ever seen inspire such feelings in you. It’s endearing.” Shanks barked a genuine laugh.

“Only person I ever met who was worth being jealous over.”

~~~

The rest of the dinner went slightly better but not by much. You were doing the dishes while Marco insisted on clearing the table. Shanks had gone back to reclining in the chair, still drinking.

“Leave them, I’ll do it.” You felt bad your guest was helping. 

“I don’t mind yoi,” Marco replied. “Have you decided what you’re going to do with your house?” You nodded.

“Shanks is going to spread a rumor that it’s his vacation home to keep it safe. I think that’ll work. You can come here when you want though, it’s not like we’re going to be here all that often.” In your house inspection, you’d found that Marco had fixed a number of small projects you always meant to get to. That alone had earned him a permanent visit invitation. 

“Thank you, I just might. Nice to get away from my siblings now and again.” You hummed in response, still working on the dishes. “By the way, yoi. It seems like things are patched up between you two. But if you ever need to go somewhere else, you can come aboard the Moby yoi.” You paused for a moment. You hadn’t considered the possibility of staying with Whitebeard. He was another Yonko, you'd be safe. Before you could answer Shanks was by your side, leaning against you casually. But nothing about his demeanor was relaxed. Laughtale was looking like a better and better plan.

“You invited my wife to come with you?” Shanks was speaking in a clipped tone. Marco was unphased, still carrying plates. You looped your arm around Shanks, to attempt to calm him down.

“Shanks, stop. Marco, send my thanks to Whitebeard, but I’m staying with Shanks.”

“You’ve gotta be needed back on your ship, you’re the doctor after all,” said Shanks coolly. Marco laughed.

“You’re right, and I’ll be leaving soon. It’s nice to see you both again, yoi. Thank you for the dinner.” Marco deposited the remaining dishes in the sink. You said your goodbyes and you walked him to the door, giving him a final hug goodbye. He partially transformed and flew off into the night. You sighed, it was always so beautiful to watch him in his Zoan form.

“Show off,” Shanks grumbled. You walked back to the living room and plopped down on your couch. Shanks laid down next to you with his head on your lap.

“You’ve been such a brat all night! Marco was just being helpful.” You weren’t mad at Shanks but you’d wished he could contain his jealousy better.

“Inviting my wife onto another Yonko’s ship isn’t helpful, ” he replied. “Besides, Marco was provoking me!” Shanks’s mood was already on the mend with Marco gone.

“Mmm. And the all powerful Emperor just had to take the bait, right?” You jiggled your legs, making his head bounce slightly.

“I can make your thighs shake more than that,” Shanks said, turning his head towards your body.

“Show me, husband .” Shanks grinned. You hadn’t called him that yet. Hopefully the last of his jealousy would dissipate. And if not, well, jealousy sex was always fun. 

[autisticlancemcclain]

In all the love songs Keith has heard (and he’s heard many, both his Pa and Shiro were big ballad fans), he’s always heard laughter described as angelic.

That’s how it is. Over and over again. When you fall in love with someone, when cupid’s arrow strikes, their laughter will be like musical bells, like windchimes, melodic and beautiful and entrancing, and you will never want to hear anything else.

Lance sounds like a hyena on crack when he laughs.

Keith is obsessed with it.

The love ballads got one half of it right, he supposes. He does shut the fuck up and listen when Lance laughs. It is like the only sound he can hear.

It’s just not…musical.

“Your sighs get any dreamier and he’s going to hear you,” Shiro says idly, colouring his nails with Sharpie.

Keith drops his chin from his hands, turning away from where he was watching Lance laugh with Hunk and Allura and scowling at his asshole brother. “He is not.”

Shiro snickers, not even bothering to look up. Keith wonders if it’s morally acceptable to smack the shit out of someone with only one arm, or if Shiro will call foul and convince everyone that Keith is somehow the asshole here.

“Is so. You’re so besotted that even I’m embarrassed for you, and I usually just laugh when you’re being humiliating.”

Keith decides that the potential reputation tarnishing is worth it.

“Ow!” Shiro cries, clutching his flesh arm with way more drama than necessary. “My arm!” He glances over at the scattered stares he receives, from various uniformed officers, and pitches his voice louder to get more attention. “My only remaining human arm!”

“Keith, stop trying to kill your brother,” Coran admonishes. “He’s sensitive.”

Shiro shoots him the tiniest smirk before returning to his fake pout. Keith’s jaw drops in indignation. “Wh — he antagonized me — it’s not my — Coran!”

Coran only raises his eyebrows. “Is there a problem, Number Three, or shall I get your mother involved?”

Pidge makes an obnoxious oooooooooh sound, wiggling her eyebrows at him, because she and Shiro are the worst, actually, and for good measure Coran is too.

“I hate this family,” Keith mutters, sinking into his seat. “All of you suck.”

“Okay, emo boy,” Shiro says patronizingly.

Unfortunately, Iverson walks in and starts the Atlas briefing before Keith can smack him again. He settles for glaring at his dumbass brother, who sticks his tongue out at him like the toddler he is, and then vows to pay attention to the meeting. He is the black paladin, after all.

He lasts four whole minutes.

It’s not his fault. If anything it’s Iverson’s fault. The meeting is boring as hell, and a quick glance around the meeting table shows that the only person paying attention is the note-taking robot Pidge made, and that doesn’t even count ‘cause it’s a robot. Several senior officers are outright sleeping. The MFE pilots are quietly passing around a game of dots. Hunk has blatantly pulled out an engineering project of his and is working on it in full and total view of Iverson (he still hates the man for what he did to Lance when they were cadets, claiming that since Lance has forgiven him, someone needs to hold a grudge). Pidge and Matt seem to be communicating in Morse code. Allura is directing her mice in some kind of acrobatic performance, and Coran is helping her. Shiro is trying to see how many spitballs he can land on Iverson’s blind side before he notices (he’s riding the line with 34). Lance is staring at Keith.

Lance is staring at Keith?

He startles when he meets Lance’s brown eyes, but Lance only smiles, wiggling his fingers in a little wave. Keith tilts his head in confusion, trying to wordlessly ask Lance why he’s staring, and also manage to keep his rapidly creeping blush under control.

(He likes it when Lance stares at him).

Lance squeezes his eyes shut instead of answering, and a moment later Keith feels a prodding in the back of his mind; a familiar presence, hot and fiery and all-encompassing.

Red.

He lets her in, lets her familiar feeling envelop his mind. She struts primly in his mindscape, nosing at Black as if to say I was here first, so just remember who’s boss.

Black lets her prance around with fond amusement.

Before Keith can ask her why she’s pushed her way through — not that he minds, he’s happy to have her, but she hasn’t felt the need to visit him in a while so he’s curious — he feels another presence almost knock on his subconscious, request access to his mindscape.

Red has…brought someone else?

Can she do that?

Red looks at him flatly, like his doubt is a personal offence. Before she can start admonishing him, the presence pushes again; not urgent, but insistent, almost as if someone is knocking on the door of Keith’s mind and doesn’t want to be ignored.

Beyond curious, Keith lets them in.

The second Keith opens his mental door, it’s like they rush in, flowing in like the white rapids of a river, strong and fast and excited, cool and bubbly. There’s so much of them that it takes Keith a good couple of minutes to conceptualise just who exactly has followed Red into Keith’s mind. The rushing water takes shape into a person; tall, gangly, broad-shoulders with a mop of curly brown hair and bright brown eyes, freckles spotted over their nose and grin wide and sparking.

Keith gapes.

“Lance?!”

“Is everything alright, Kogane?”

Keith blinks open his eyes to find the entire meeting table staring at him, expressions ranging from confused to knowing to outright teasing. He realises all of a sudden that he’s spoken aloud, and not only spoken but called Lance’s name out, loudly, for seemingly no reason, in the middle of a crowded meeting.

His face flames.

“All is well,” he chokes out. “Please carry on.”

Iverson narrows his eyes at him for a moment, but eventually shakes himself and continues. Keith stays bright red for several minutes, staring pointedly down at the table, ignoring the various sniggers he can hear with every ounce of his effort. Unfortunately, some of the teasing laughter is inside his actual literal brain, what the fresh fuck, so it’s a fruitless endeavour.

Are you still freaking out? the Lance inside his head (???) asks.

What in the gall brained fuck is going on, Keith thinks back at it, looking at Real Lance in a decent mix of panic, confusion, and the actual phonetic sound that an exclamation point mixed with a question mark makes in your brain. Real Lance has his eyes closed, brows creased in concentration, and the tiniest of smirks pulling up at his lips.

Close your eyes and meditate, doofus, Mind Lance tells him. I’m using a lot of energy right now so I don’t have the space to try and reign you up here.

Despite the fact that Keith is so confused that a thousand professors could not explain his current situation to him in any way that makes sense, he listens, closing his eyes tightly and visualizing his physical bond with Black, like he does when he flies. It helps him sink into the semi-astral plane of existence, usually so he can meld with his lion and the rest of the team when they’re forming Voltron, but whenever he’s trying to reach his own mindscape, too. He’s still aware of his physical body, he’s not quite projected out of it, but he’s not wholly in it, either. Most of his essence is focused on seeing as his mind sees, without the constraints of the physical plane.

“Took you long enough,” Lance huffs.

“What the fuck,” Keith responds.

He packs quite a lot of questions into that what the fuck, he thinks. Like ‘what the fuck are you doing here’, for starters. Or ‘what the fuck just happened with the water and Red and everything else’, if he wants to be specific. Or, if he really just wants to cover everything, ‘what the fuck is happening’ might just do it.

“Your internal monologue fascinates me,” Lance informs him.

Keith flushes. (Does he flush in his mindscape? Does he have the blood and physical body necessary in order to flush? Or is he just embarrassed, so his perception of himself is blushing because that’s the only way he knows how to conception use the feeling? God, Voltron magic shit is so weird. Keith lowkey misses mapping energies alone in the desert and wondering if he was delusional.)

“Stop hearing my internal monologue,” he orders.

Lance pouts. “You’re no fun. I want to hear all the juicy gossip you think about me because you’re too emotionally stunted to say it.”

Lance is only joking, Keith knows he is. He’s leaned forward slightly, like he always does when he’s teasing, and his smile is close-mouthed, unserious.

But Keith of course panics anyway.

A million snapshots of Lance flash through his mind — Lance laughing, head thrown back, barely holding himself up; Lance dancing around the briefing room at two in the morning as he plans a mission; Lance with his tongue stuck out of his mouth, concentrating hard on tiny knitting needles and tiny little mouse-sweaters; Lance with tears shining in his eyes, glancing at a projection of Earth, long before they finally made it home; Lance dirty and hurt, cradled to his chest as Keith runs him too a pod after Sendak. A thousand moments of Lance when Keith was fondest of him, when just looking at him made the ballads Keith grew up with play in his head.

He hurries to shove the memories in an obscure corner of his head and prays that Lance doesn’t see them.

“Can you actually hear my thoughts,” Keith asks, a little desperately.

Lance waves a dismissive hand. “Nah. I get emotional impressions, but that’s about it. I can’t even see anything in here expect you and Red, basically. And Black. Hi, Black!” He waves excitedly to the lion, who sits regally in the dead centre of Keith’s mindscape. She turns to the red paladin in amusement, nodding her head once. Lance beams.

Keith feels a rush of fondness for him so potent it makes his heart hurt, a little.

“Woah,” Lance says, looking at him a little wide-eyed. “I felt that, Willie Nelson. Holy softie.”

“How and why are you here,” Keith says, blatantly changing the subject and not giving even one single shit about being subtle about it. Lance is looking at him too closely.

Luckily, Lance indulges him, or is too excited about being here in general to resist talking about it.

“Isn’t it so cool?” he gushes. “I’ve been working on it with Red for ages! I figured since we all have that emotional bond with each other and the lions during Voltron, and we keep our lion bonds outside of Voltron, we should be able to communicate with each other outside of Voltron, too. Red wasn’t sure if it was possible but she helped me try, and I figured I’d try with you first because it would be the easiest, since we’re so close and all. And you’re more likely to let me in your head.”

He says it so matter-of-factly. Like it’s obvious that they are so close, and that Keith loves him so much that he wouldn’t mind Lance in his head, not really.

The worst part is that he’s right.

With anyone else, this would feel like an invasion of space. Keith would be defensive immediately, angry even, throwing them right the hell out of his head and yelling at them as he does it.

But with Lance?

He’s a little shocked, sure. And worried, that Lance is going to see all the parts of him that Keith isn’t ready yet to show him; the parts that he doesn’t yet know how to say, how to show. The parts of Keith that soften every time Lance smiles at him, the parts that light up with gleeful competition whenever Lance eggs him on, the parts that chafe and ache but smooth over when Lance sits with him quietly when he’s hurting.

Keith knows that Lance knows that he loves him. He doesn’t exactly hide it. He’s not sure he would, even if he could.

But he’s not ready to tell him. Not yet.

He takes a deep breath. (Or whatever the mindscape equivalent is).

He knows Lance won’t go looking.

“And you decided to pull this telepathy shit in the middle of a random meeting?” Keith teases, allowing some of the worry to slip away.

This is, after all, cool as shit, even if it’s weird.

“It’s not an important meeting!” Lance defends. “It’s boring, and I needed entertainment! Besides, Pidge’s bot will give us all the notes anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah. Slacker. Some right hand man you are.”

Keith spends the rest of the dead-boring meeting teasing and chatting with Lance in his mindscape, which is great because he both gets to mess with Lance, which is always a net positive, because he has the upper hand in his own head, and because he gets to look like he’s paying attention in the meeting and actually be completely checked out.

“Oh, hey, I think the meeting’s ending,” Lance says. “I can hear Iverson winding down a bit.”

“Time to get out of my head then, you squatter?”

Lance rolls his eyes, waving to Red to get her attention. She stalks over, nosing him in the head like a mother cat to her kitten. Lance bats her away. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll head out. But only because I’m not practiced enough at this thing, so if I stay in your head it’ll look like I’m frozen or something. Once I figure out how to look normal and still beam my thoughts into your head, you’re never going to be without me even once in your life.”

Lance is teasing again. Keith can tell. But still, he’s totally helpless to stop what comes out next.

“I’d be okay with that.”

He sounds so besotted he wants to smack himself. But before he can even have the space to be embarrassed, he feels a wave of emotions that aren’t his — Lance’s, from the other end of their connection, a mix of embarrassment and selfish pleasure so thick that Keith can feel it even though they’re in Keith’s mindscape.

His jaw drops.

Lance wants Keith’s undivided attention. He’s preening over it.

“I gotta go,” Lance says hastily. “Uh, meeting ending and everything.”

Before Keith can so much as stop him, he feels the same strange feeling as before, the cool, rushing water of a river, only this time it’s flowing out of of his head rather than into it. Lance has retreated hastily from his mindscape, and Red follows, much slower and much more smug, visibly laughing at her paladin.

When Keith opens his eyes again, Lance is bright red, and won’t meet his eyes.

Keith smiles. Maybe he’s not the only one who’s not quite ready to spill his guts.

———

part two

[honey-crypt]

hello! Can I ask you for the disability write-a-thon a farmer with social anxiety who has a hard time socializing and interacting with elliott/harvey but really tries, and also has panic attacks because of it!

I'm sorry if you don't understand, English is not my language. :(

ps: I love what you write, you are very good! 💕💕

★ elliott & harvey with a farmer who has social anxiety and panic attacks ★

elliott

★ your social anxiety kinda goes over his head, he just thinks you’re shy and finds it to be quite cute

★ he tries his best to chat with you but 99% of any conservation he attempts with you involves you running away after the first exchange of pleasantries

★ elliott gets worried that he might have slighted you in some way so he goes out of his way to send you apology gifts, ranging from as simple as seashells to as extravagant as flower arrangements

★ that, however, just made things worse on your end, as you struggled to find the means to thank elliott for such nice things and end up having a panic attack in front of him for it

★ elliott helps you through the panic attack, offering you a shoulder to lean on while you ride the wave of emotion; afterwards, you’re able to finally talk to elliott and thank him for his kindness

harvey

★ bro’s kinda socially anxious himself but your social anxiety could eat his for breakfast

★ he doesn’t recognize that you’re dealing with social anxiety because his social anxiety is telling him that you actually hate his guts and that’s why you run away every time you see him

★ luckily, harvey figures out that it’s your social anxiety and not that you hate him; unfortunately, he discovers it when you have a panic attack in front of him because you couldn’t get the words out to order something at the saloon

★ he manages to override his own social anxiety in order to help you through your panic attack

★ once you calm down, harvey reveals that he also has social anxiety and you two end up finding common ground on the topic, able to talk to one another without the other person losing their mind

[emilyssky]

War Of Hearts // JJ Maybank

PAIRING: JJ Maybank! x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 13.7k

GENRE(S): smut, angst, fluff, fuck buddies to lovers

WARNINGS: smut [ praise, degradation, fingering, dirty talk, oral sex, choking, slapping, spanking] , mentions of violence, mentions of blood, swearing, mentions of alcohol, smoking. Jealous and protective JJ !

Author's note:Wrote this last night after finishing season 3, hope you’ll like it :)

SUMMARY: 

You and JJ have been messing around for a few months now until you try to cut it off because of your growing feelings for him that you think are one sided. A series of unfortunate events bring you face to face with unexpected fear and your relationship with JJ when you get caught up in their treasure hunt. 

I've always loved summer. Something about the warm weather, the sun, the ocean, and the salt on my skin made me feel alive. For the most part, I loved my life in ΟΒΧ. Some would say that I was born blessed, that I got both sides of the coin with my mom being a pogue and my dad being a kook but it feels mostly like a curse to me. My whole life I've never been fully accepted by either side. I wasn't t rich and snobby enough for the Kooks and never wild and spontaneous enough for the Pogues. It's not like I was on bad terms with anyone, everyone was friendly enough but ever since I could remember I felt left out, never having real friends. And if I'm being honest, it wasn't the kooks that I was jealous of, something about the pogue life pull me in. It seemed exciting and freeing in a way. When my mom married my dad and had me she knew that she wanted me to grow up knowing both sides. She wanted to offer me the chance to be the one to choose where I belong. She's big on following your heart and dreams and always told me growing up that I'll find my way and that if I follow my gut, the choice is gonna be pretty easy. We lived in Figure 8 but my mom opened a cafe on the south side, wanting to keep in touch with that side of her life. My life is a series of the same things over and over again. I like spending time alone, if I'm not at school or working my shift at the cafe, I'll probably be by the beach, reading or surfing. Sometimes I will go on boat rides with my dad or steal the keys and go by myself. It's not often that I will hang out with the Kooks, in fact, Sarah Cameron is probably the only person that I would voluntarily hang out with and actually enjoy it. And when it comes to the Pogues, everyone knows that it's just Kie and her boys. I'm friendly with all of them, occasionally have chat with or enjoy the waves together but that's about it.

Today is a day exactly like any other; I finished school and came straight to the cafe. It was not too crowded, with only a few regular customers enjoying their usual cup of coffee. I was behind the counter, cleaning the coffee machines, making sure everything was full and ready until I heard them. It's the group of kids that you hear before you see. John B enters first, pushing his long brown hair back as he laughs at something Pope is saying. I like John B, we share a lot in common and have nice conversations from time to time. He's a really fun and social person but this year was a rough one for him. His dad went missing almost a year ago, many people consider him dead by now but John B will not accept it, he still thinks he's alive, somewhere lost at sea. My mom and his dad were close back in the day before she met my dad and moved to figure 8. We used to play together when we were young up until he met his current best friends. My dad offered him a few jobs involving our boat and at the cafe, after Big John disappeared so I've been seeing him around more lately. Pope and Kiara follow right behind him. Me and Kie used to be close, but now our relationship has changed into a few talks here and there, I still consider her one of my closest friends though. Pope is fun. He's one of the few people that talks to me normally and always makes me feel comfortable at social events or parties. And lastly, my favourite pogue follows. JJ Maybank. Me and JJ have an interesting relationship. Teasing, flirting, bickering, that's his speciality with every girl in the Outer Banks, kook or pogue but sometimes I like to think that he actually enjoys my company. He was always the one I was looking forward to see but today he's the one I'm trying to avoid and have been trying for the past 2 weeks. His blue eyes find mine the minute he walks through the door, and a smirk spreads across his face.

"Hey, Y/n" John B greets me, reaching the counter.

"I'm not serving you free coffee." I immediately shake my head, knowing exactly what they want.

"Oh, come on." He frowns his thick brows, fake pouting.

I let a small chuckle at his attempt. "How many times do you think it will take for my mum to notice?"

"One more?" He offers, lifting his shoulders.

I scoff, shaking my head again.

"Come on, your mum loves me anyway." He presses.

"Yeah, but my dad not so much."

JJ places his elbows on the counter, right next to John B, and I immediately look down, continuing cleaning the coffee machine like I was doing before they came in.

"What if I'm the one asking?" He says, leaning in with that playful smile of his that I know all too well.

"Then it's defiantly a no." I fake a tight smile.

"Why so grumpy today princess?" He places a hand over his heart.

I roll my eyes and turn back to John B. He brings his palms together, begging me silently.

I sigh. "This is the last time." I point my finger at both of them.

"Yes!" They high-five each other.

"I'll bring it over." I wave them off.

I lift my eyes to his only for a second, catching the wink he sends my way as he follows John B to their usual table where Kie and Pope are seated.

I quickly fix up 4 iced coffees and walk over to them.

"Here you go."

"You're the best." John B touches my side lightly.

"You're coming next Saturday right?" Kie asks reaching for her coffee.

"What's next Saturday?" I question placing the last coffee on the table.

"We're throwing a party on the beach. It's gonna be fun." Pope explains.

"You're coming." JJ states without looking my way.

"I'll see." I nod at Kie with a small smile before leaving them to it. I walk back to the safety of my counter feeling his eyes burning on my back. The parties here at obx were always good. It's the one time that Kooks and Pogues can coexist in one place without jumping on each other's throats. Well, sometimes at least. It's fun nevertheless, all of us drinking and dancing by the beach forgetting our responsibilities and problems for a little while. I stay behind the counter, doing any task possible to distract myself but anytime I let my gaze fall his way, he's already looking.

"Thanks for the coffee Y/n." John B waves at me as they leave about an hour later.

"See you at the party cupcake." He brings two fingers to his forehead.

"Maybe." I shrug, walking to their table to clean up.

"You know I'll be miserable without you." He yells already out the door.

.  .  .  .

I don't usually work on Fridays, so after school, you'll probably find me at the beach if I'm not locked in my room. I enjoy my alone time. Riding the waves, sitting under the sun with a good book, or drawing in my sketchbook. Today my mind felt a little heavier, so I took my time, and before I knew it the sun began setting. I quickly throw my bag over my shoulder and begin to make my way back, realising that it's almost dinner time. I silently curse at myself for not riding my bike to the beach cause the walk back to Figure 8 seems dreadful. My ears perk up catching the sound of a motorcycle approaching with speed and I close my eyes hoping that it's not him but when I hear the motorcycle slowing down I know that my hope is not coming true. He stops beside me and I stop walking, turning to look at him. His hair is pushed back by the wind, he's wearing a simple white t-shirt with grey cargo pants, and his face is as pretty as always. My eyes narrow a little as I spot a bruise over his right cheekbone and it doesn't take long before I spot all the different marks and scars across his face.

He still forces a smug smile on his lips, ignoring my staring. "Having an afternoon surfing session princess?"

"What happened?" My eyes can't stop studying his face.

"Oh, you know the Kooks had it coming." He shrugs, masking his face perfectly like he always does but I know better.

"JJ." I trail off, my stomach tightening knowing exactly where he got these injuries from.

His jaw tightens. "It's nothing' Y/n. Same old, same old." I shake my head, in disgust. I can't even stand the thought that his dad walks around the OBX freely. He's such a piece of shit. "Get on the bike." He nods behind him.

"It's fine, I'll walk." I tilt my chin.

He scoffs with a smirk. "When will you stop with this whole act you’re putting on?" He waves his hand around.

I change the weight from my right to my left leg, crossing my arms. "I don't know what you're talking about." I keep my face expressionless, ignoring the way his beaten face cause my heart to tighten.

His eyebrows come together and his gaze shifts, dropping the playful act. "You're ignoring me." He states.

I'm trying.

I avoided his eyes cause I know that the more I look at them the weaker I get. It happens every time, I say that I'm gonna stand my ground and then I find myself beside him regardless.

"Look," He clears his throat, eyes moving everywhere. A weird expression takes over his features and I immediately know that he feels uncomfortable. "I don't care why you're pushing me away but can you stop ignoring me for a few hours?" He struggles to speak the words and that makes me a little warm inside. I glance at his bruised face once more, remembering all the times he came to me after his fights with his father. All the long talks we would have in order to get his mind off of it or the times I would sneak him through my window to treat his injuries.

I sigh and silently climb behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. I feel him chuckle. "Just so you know, we're just talking."

"Sure." I can't see his face but I bet he's grinning.

He took his time, driving aimlessly around the streets of OBX. I don't mind though, I know him enough to know that it helps him clear his head, so I stay silent resting my head against his back and enjoying the ride. The sun has set and the night breeze tingles my skin in the best way. I notice that he takes the familiar route to my house.

"Are your parents home?" He yells, looking behind his shoulder.

"Yeah, I think."

"We'll have to be quiet then." He clicks his tongue.

"Like that has stopped you before." I smile against his shoulder.

"True." He glances at me again, the corners of his mouth lifting.

He parks his bike a block down from my house and he walks quietly around the back while I go from the front door.

"Hey, honey." My mom yells from the kitchen at the sound of the door opening.

"Hey, mom." I enter the kitchen, sneaking my arms around her waist while she chops some cucumbers, preparing a salad for dinner.

"Dinner will be ready soon." She smiles.

"Oh, I'm not hungry, I already ate." I brush her off, walking to the fridge.

"It smells amazing dear." My dad enters the kitchen, dropping his keys on the kitchen table.

My mom flashes a smile at my dad before turning back to me. "When did you eat?"

"I hung out with Kie by the beach and we had some sandwiches."  I quickly make up an excuse, grabbing a water bottle and closing the fridge.

"Just Kiara?" My dad lifts an eyebrow.

"Yes dad," I sigh.

"Honey." My mom scolds him.

"What?" He lifts his shoulders. "I'm sorry that I don't want my daughter hanging around boys that smoke weed, get drunk, and steal shit on the daily."

"Mark." She glares at him.

"They're not stealing anything, dad." I narrow my eyes, sick of him attacking them all the time. "They're not like that, you don't know them."

"Well, some of them are." He continues and I know exactly who he's referring to.

"You're wrong" I shake my head, lifting my hands. " and you're not gonna tell me who I can and can't hang out with." I walk past him shooting him a glare and head up the stairs.

"Y/n." I hear my mom yell but I ignore her and hurry into my room, slamming the door shut and locking it.

JJ's shoulder is rest against the open window, arms crossed in front of him with an unreadable expression. I drop my gaze to the floor, walking to sit on my bed and placing the bottle on my nightstand, feeling a little ashamed for the way my dad spoke about him and his friends.

"I'm sorry for my dad." I feel the need to say.

He moves to sit next to me, forcing a tight smile on his lips. "It's fine, we all know his opinion about the south side."

I move my head, trying to get a better look at him. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah princess you don't have to worry about me." The nickname tugs at my heart almost as much as his smile.

I reach to touch his hair, pushing them back and toying with the short hair at the nape of his neck. "You know you can talk to me."

His eyes twitch with suppressed emotion, his jaw set with eyebrows frowned. "I know."  I offer him a small smile, not moving my hand. "Can you, like, talk to me?" He asks. His eyes are screaming even though he manages to keep his expression under control. "I want you to take my mind off things, just talk to me about anything." His tone is almost begging.

I bring my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around them and turn to face him. 'What do you wanna know about this time? My weird obsession with serial killer documentaries, my views on feminism, or if I put the milk or cereal first?"

His face breaks into the first real smile today and I feel a little proud. He shakes his head lightly, his eyes not leaving mine before he pulls me by the neck, smashing his lips to mine. It's like all the pain he carries and all the words he desperately wants to say are spoken by the way he moves his lips hungrily against mine. The softness of his mouth contrasts his rough breathing as his hands hold my face, pulling me closer to him. His small groan that echoes through the room and the feeling of his tongue brushing over mine snaps me back to reality.

"Jay," I whimper, pushing at his chest lightly.

His lips leave mine but our foreheads stay together. "I'm sorry." He mumbles, inhaling short, sharp breaths.

My fingers trace his bruises and my stomach twists even at the thought of how his dad created them. I hate how he grew up having to hide all this pain and I hate how he's being treated. "I don't want you to go back to him tonight." I whisper and his eyes snap to mine. "Stay with me."

His face finally breaks, and the emotion in his eyes overtakes his whole expression.

"But we're just sleeping," I lean back, pointing my finger at him. "and you'll have to leave before my parents wake up."

His eyes water a bit but a grin paints his lips as he wraps his arms around me, pushing me back to the bed.

A giggle escapes me. Damn him.

. . . . . . . .

"I'm going with Topper." Sarah touches up her already perfect makeup.

"Ugh." I groan. "What do you even see in him?" I scrunch up my nose. Sarah is the only kook that I can stand to hang out with. And the only Cameron I actually like.

"He's nice." She rolls her eyes at me, holding up two dresses, one yellow and one blue. "Stop being a bitch to him. Which one?"

I tilt my head." The yellow one obviously."

"What are you wearing?" She questions while peeling off her clothes and changing into the short yellow dress.

"I don't know if I want to go." I lay back down on her king-size bed.

"Come on, you love parties. Is it that you don't wanna go or that you don't wanna see a certain someone?" She wiggles her brows at me.

"I'm just not in the mood." I shrug, looking away but she sees right through me.

"Yeah right." She chuckles. "Cut the shit and get dressed." She throws a black shirt on me.

. . . . . 

The beach is full of people, kooks, and pogues dancing, drinking, and having fun. Big barrels of beer everywhere, stands with bottles of alcohol and hundreds of red cups here and there. It's not even midnight and everyone is already wasted. Most of the girls are in their bikinis by now, dancing like there's no tomorrow on top of giant rocks. The minute we enter the party, I go straight for the beer, pouring myself a cup. My eyes silently search the crowd for any sight of his fluffy, blonde hair, or of any of his friends. I spot Kie and Pope taking shots with a few other people and John B just a few meters again, flirting with a blonde girl but he's nowhere to be found.

"Looking for someone?" Rafe says close to my ear, catching me off guard and making me flinch away. He smiles at my reaction.

"What are you doing here?" He's one of the people that rarely joins things like this. He and his friends really don't get along with the pogues, unlike me and Sarah. I try my best to limit my contact with Rafe, Topper, and the rest of their little group but somehow they find a way to be right in my face.

"Enjoying the free alcohol." He lifts the cup to his lips, hiding his smile. "What are you doing here?"

I take a sip of my beer. "I came with Sarah."

He nods, eyeing me up and down. "You look gorgeous as always."

I roll my eyes at his compliment. "Thanks."

"You know," He leans in closer. "you're always cold towards us but when it comes to these pogues you're a fucking angel. Why is that?"

I sigh out loud, not really in the mood to deal with his whining. "Cause I can. " I offer him a smile before walking away, blending in with the dancing crowd.

It didn't take more than 4 cups of alcohol, to find myself dancing between a few half-naked girls, that are probably as drunk as I am. My body has a mind of its own as I swing my hips to the beat of some '00 song. I lost sight of Sarah half an hour ago when she disappeared with Topper, and I joined Kie and Pope and took a few shots before throwing myself between the sweaty bodies, pretending that the fact that JJ is still nowhere to be found does not affect me at all. He's a known player around the Obx, sleeping around, flirting his way through, breaking hearts left and right and I've had my fair share of it. But the game he's playing is a dangerous one, and I'm trying to protect myself the best way I can.

"Shots!." John B yells, throwing his hands in the air, holding a bottle of tequila in his right one. A few girls extend their cups for him to pour them some but I've probably dropped mine while dancing cause it's not between my fingers anymore.

I tap on his shoulder to get his attention. "Hit me!" I yell over the music and open my mouth wide.

"Let's go!" He yells pouring a shot straight into my mouth. The alcohol drips down my chin as I try to swallow, my eyes watering at the process.

"Another one." John B says and taps my chin waiting for me to open my mouth again and I do. All eyes are suddenly on us, everyone is cheering and yelling as I shallow my fourth shot in a row and I feel two hands grabbing me by the legs and lifting me higher. I throw my hands in the air, laughing as the people around me scream louder. My mind is somewhere else, and I let the carefree feeling and numbness that comes with alcohol overtake me. Until I open my eyes. I sober up in a second when my eyes find his. His on top of a rock, smoking with a few other people. A girl leans in towards him, her hand wrapping around him as she laughs at something Pope said but he stays unbothered, his eyes still on me as he lifts his cup my way with a nod and a smile. I nod back not knowing what to do before turning back to the girls I was dancing with. I continue moving to the music but my mind isn't letting me shake him off. Suddenly, the alcohol feels heavy in my stomach and the sound of my heartbeat is louder than the music in my ears. My hand flies to my mouth as I run out of the dancing crowd and as far away as I can from the people before dropping to my knees and vomiting in a bag full of used cups. I feel two hands reaching for my hair as all the alcohol that I consumed leaves my system.

"It's okay, I got you." I hear Rafe's voice over the music that has faded a bit due to the distance. "Here" He hands me a napkin.

"Thank you." I cough out, taking the napkin, and bringing it to my lips.

"Hold on, let me bring you some water."

I wipe my mouth and drop the napkin inside the trash bag.

"Here." He pushes a cup of water into my hand, tugging my hair behind my ear as I take a few sips of the water slowly. "Stop drinking so much Y/n, Jesus."

"I'm okay." I rise to my feet.

"Come on," His hand wraps around my waist. "let's take you home yeah?" He starts pulling me towards the other side of the beach.

"I don't think she's going anywhere with you Cameron." My head snaps to the right, hearing Rafe scoff at the sight of JJ. JJ's eyes twitch when they fall on me, his eyebrows coming together.

"I don't think you have a saying in what she does pogue." Rafe's hands drop from my body as he takes a step forward.

JJ's expression shifts in a second when he moves his eyes from me to Rafe, a smile spreading over his lips. "Oh I think I do," He takes a step forward as well. "And she's not going anywhere with you." His voice drops a little.

"I suggest you take a step back." Rafe doesn't back down.

JJ's eyes darken. "Or what?" He takes yet another step. "Last time I checked you're still nipping at her heels and following her around in case she pities you and gives you a chance."

Rafe lets out a growl, pushing JJ backwards but he just laughs mockingly, knowing he hit a nerve but that angers Rafe more.

I step between them before Rafe can make another move. "Stop acting like five-year-olds." I look at both of them, but they ignore me, not taking their eyes off each other.

"Hey," My hand touches Rafe's chest, forcing his eyes away from JJ. "go back to the party, I'll let you know when I'm ready to leave." I lie, knowing that it's the only way to make him walk away without creating a scene cause trying to make JJ drop this would be even harder. Rafe's eyes narrow, flickering back to JJ. I reach for his hand, softening my tone. "I'll find you." I nod, trying to reassure him.

He nods back, letting out a sigh. "Turn him down kindly babe." He says, knocking JJ's shoulder with his as he walks out.

JJ's eyes are fixated on me. "You'll let him know when you're ready to leave huh?" He says when Rafe's far enough.

"Maybe." I play along, shrugging my shoulders.

His tongue comes out to wet his pink lips, hands resting on his hips as he takes a step towards me. "Is that so?"

"Last time I checked I can go home with anyone I want." I cross my arms, trying not to let my gaze drop to his lips.

"We both know that I would never let that happen." His voice drops, his tone raspier.

"Why JJ?" I tilt my head upwards due to our height difference but that doesn't stop me from taking a step forward as well, only leaving a few inches between us.

His fingers wrap around my neck, catching me off guard. "Come on now princess, let's not play dumb." He smirks.

"I'm not playing dumb. Actually, I'm done playing." I wrap my hand around his wrist, pulling it away from my neck.

Something flashes over his eyes but doesn't stay for long. "Trust me, I'm done playing as well." He mumbles before cupping my jaw with both hands, not letting me escape and in a split second his lips crush into mine. My breath hitches as the taste of weed and beer coats my tongue but I'd be lying if I say that I haven't missed it. It's been a week since the last time I kissed him and since then I've tried to keep myself at a distance, knowing that the more I let this go on the more invested I become, and knowing JJ, it will not end up well If I do. He lets out a low moan as his tongue enters my mouth, colliding passionately with mine. My fingers grab his shirt for support, my body suddenly overwhelmed by the familiar knot in my stomach that begins to build.

"Fuck, I missed you baby." He breaks the kiss, allowing me to take a much-needed breath. I dare to lift my eyes, looking up at him through my eyelashes, only to find him looking hungrily down at me. His hands travel from my jaw, down to the curve of my waist and he pulls my body to his. "You kept me waiting for so long." He breathes out, resting his forehead on mine.

"JJ" My tone begging and warning at the same time. "We shouldn't be doing this."

"You can not name a single good reason for us not to." He says, running his thumb over my bottom lip.

"I can name a few."

His hands drop to my ass and in a swift move, he lifts me off the ground forcing my legs to wrap around his waist. "I'd rather hear other sound out of that pretty mouth of yours." He starts walking away from the party, keeping his hands secure under my thighs and crashing his lips to mine once again. He makes sure we're far enough from the crowd and behind plenty of trees and bushes before stopping and dropping me carefully on the sand. He breaks the kiss, straightening his body and reaching to peel off his white long-sleeve shirt.

"You look fucking amazing tonight." He doesn't break eye contact. "I was hard from the minute I saw you walk in." He leans back down, his eyes roaming over my body as if he hasn't seen it in ages.

My hands reach for the ends of my shirt, pulling it over my head. "Fuck." He dives hungrily into my naked chest. Sucking, nibbling, and biting. He squeezes my boobs between his palms, rolling his tongue over my nipples, making them harder by the second. His wet lips slide down my stomach teasingly as his fingers toy with the button of my shorts before finally unbuttoning it. He drags it down my legs, leaving me in my black panties, exposed and ready for him. Somehow I always find myself in this position as much as I'm trying to avoid it but the sight of him desperately fumbling with his belt as his eyes devour my body is one that I'll never get enough of.

I lift myself onto my knees, lowering my body so I'm facing his crotch. I pull down his shorts along with his boxers freeing his already hard member. A small moan escapes my lips at the sight, my mouth watering. His thumb and index finger reach for my jaw, tilting my head to meet his dark gaze.

"I want your eyes on me as you choke on my dick, okay princess?" He says and I'm aflame from head to toe. He takes his dick in his other hand, pumping it a few times before dragging the tip across my lips, coating them with his leaking precum. I keep my eyes locked on his wild blue ones as I take him in my mouth.

"Fuck" He curses under his breath as I twirl my tongue around the tip. I replace his hand with mine, taking him deeper, the size of him weighing on my tongue. I relax my jaw, allowing almost his whole member to enter my mouth. His hands fist my hair while his hips begin to thrust forward, lightly fucking himself in my mouth.

"You're so fucking good at this baby." He praises me. "Look at you choking on it, that's it." I force myself to breathe through my nose while saliva starts dripping from my mouth down to my chin. He fastens his pace only for a few seconds before, pulling my head sharply back by my hair, his dick dropping from my mouth as I gasp for air.

He groans out loud. "I missed this."

His words sink in as much as I try not to let them. It's always 'I missed this' and never 'I missed you.'

He connects our lips again, tasting himself while he pushes me down on my back. His fingers run over my clothed pussy, and that's enough to make my back arch, silently begging him for more. My body responds to him in ways that I can't explain or control. Just a touch and he has me already panting. He pulls my underwear to the side opening my folds with his middle finger.

"Ugh." I gasp.

"Shit baby, you're already dripping." He whispers satisfied against my lips. His mouth falls to the curve of my neck, sucking on my skin as his fingers begin to rub circles over my clit making tiny moans escape me. Unexpectedly, he slides two fingers inside me, quickly building a fast pace.

"Oh, my god." I shut my eyes, pleasure creeping into my lower belly.

"You respond to me so well princess." He kisses me, capturing my bottom lip between his teeth. His fingers pump in and out of me, making my breath shorter as the pleasure builds.

"God Jay, I'm gonna-" The words die in my throat and the flicker of his thumb on my clit sends me unexpectedly over the edge. My orgasm rushes over me like a wave, my body going numb for a few seconds, gasps and moans leaving my lips.

"That's it baby, ride it out." His pace slows down a bit before pulling his fingers out. He leaves wet kisses along my jaw, making my eyes fly open.

"I want more. " My tone begging with no embarrassment.

A grin overtakes his lips, his eyes shining under the dim light of the moon. "I want you on your hands and knees. " He demands.

My body moves on its own, and before my mind can catch up I'm on all four, my ass on display in front of him. He runs his palms over the skin before slapping sharply my right ass-cheek.

I gasp, flinching forward. "That's for flirting with Rafe."

"I wasn't flirting with-" 

Another slap.

"And that's for ignoring me for a week." He growls. I stay silent as he pulls my underwear to the side again. He strokes my pussy with the head of his dick, dragging it up and down my slit, teasing me.

"JJ please," I whine desperately.

He leans down bringing his lips beside my ear. "Say you're sorry for ignoring me."

I swallow the last bit of pride that's left in me, understanding that my need for him is too big, and knowing that his ego is hurt, I do as he says. "I'm sorry for ignoring, I'm sorry."

"You want me?" He presses, his tone dripping with enjoyment.

"Yes, I want you so bad, please." I push my ass backwards.

He lets out a low chuckle and I hear him rip open a condom, seconds later his head presses against my entrance and slides in slowly. We both let out a groan at the feeling. God, I missed this too.

"Ready?" He asks breathlessly after a few seconds.

I nod my head, allowing him to move his hips. He grabs a full fist of my hair while his other hand stays on the curve of my ass before he pulls out and slams back in.

I immediately gasp when he begins to thrust inside me building a fast and steady rhythm.

"God, you're so fucking tight." He groans. The sound of skin on skin fills the air and my breaths begin to come out short as I arch my back. His dick feels too good inside me, almost heavenly. The way he moves, the sounds he makes, I've missed everything.

"Fuck it's so good." I brokenly moan. His balls begin to hit perfectly at my clit, pushing me closer and closer to my second orgasm. His grip on my hair tightens and pants of air mixed with low growls leave his mouth. I'm struggling to keep my body up as a fucks me harder than ever before and the fire in my belly grows.

"I'm not gonna last long." He mumbles in my ear but the pleasure between my legs is too much, my muscles burn and I squeeze my eyes shut as I let my second orgasm wash over me, euphoria spreading at every inch of my body. My legs begin to shake the sensation too intense as he fucks me through the last of it. His thrusts become sloppier, his nails digging into the flesh of my ass.

He falls forward and I feel his heartbeat on my back. "Fuck, Y/n." He lets an animistic growl in my ear, his body stilling completely as he empties himself inside the condom. Drops of sweat fall from the tips of his blonde hair on my shoulder, while both he and I catch out breaths. After almost a minute he plants a kiss on my back before pulling out slowly. The feeling of emptiness creeps in, alongside with the embarrassment and the realisation of what just happened. I hear him pulling the condom out and throwing it somewhere, while I stay almost frozen. Now that everything is done, I can't find the strength to face him. I lift myself to my feet, my legs still a little weak but I ignore it reaching for my shorts and putting them back on. I keep my back to him and my head low as reach for my top. The sound of his belt lets me know that he doing the same. I feel a tap on my shoulder and I turn around. He holds up my shirt between his fingers.

"Thanks." My voice falters. I pull the shirt over my head and run my fingers through my tangled hair. I feel his eyes on me, burning at the side of my head. I build up all the courage that I can master and turn my gaze to him and it takes one second to regrade it. He stands there, fully dressed, his blonde hair a mess, looking at me with those eyes. Those big, blue eyes that I've grown so used to over the last few months, staring at me with so much softness, analysing. Suddenly, my body is fighting a wave of emotions.

"What?" I ask, my tone almost a whisper.

He clenches and unclenches his jaw, his eyes saying so much but his mouth, not a single word. "I'm taking you home." He states before turning around and walking away back towards the party. I don't fight him, I simply follow him to his bike. Both of us know exactly what's going on, I know he understands what I'm trying to do but he doesn't seem to understand why and I don't bother explaining. I know him. I know how he is, I know how he reacts. I know who he is and who I am. I keep my hands tight around his waist as we make the short way towards my house on his bike. I try to enjoy these last few moments with him. It's always stolen moments like these. On his bike, on the beach, hidden in John B's van, silently in my room, or in my dad's boat. And that's not enough.

.

.

.

.

It's been days since I last saw him. He left me home, with a small nod and a goodnight and I haven't seen him since then. Truth be told, I haven't worked at the cafe at all, claiming to my mother that I have a lot of homework, which is partly true. I've been distracting myself as much as I can with school and studying. Tonight is no different, I'm sitting comfortably in my bed working on my homework for Monday.

"That's it, I'm done with this boy." My dad's yelling interrupts me, catching my attention.

"Honey please, he's going through a rough time." My mom tries to calm him down. "Let me talk to Y/n, maybe she knows something."

"She better not, she shouldn't be hanging out with these boys in the first place." I hear a door slam. I have heard my dad this angry in a long time, but usually, it is always about the same things; either me sneaking around and breaking his house rules or something to do with the pogues. My dad loves my mom and accepts her for who she is but he doesn't get why she still wants to have ties with the south side and most importantly why she wants me to grow up knowing both sides. But what are they fighting about now? What boy?

A soft knock on my door snaps me out of my thoughts. "Come in."

My mom opens the door slowly., entering my room. "Hey, honey." She closes the door behind her.

"What's going on mom? Why is dad yelling?" I ask her right away.

She lets out a sigh and approaches my bed, taking a seat. "Y/n have you talked to John B at all?"

My eyebrows twitch. "Um, no not really, why?"

She doesn't appear mad unlike the way my dad sounded a few seconds ago, instead, her face falls at my answer.  "Are you sure? Have you talked to Kiara or the other boys?"

I shake my head, her questions confusing me more. "No mum, why?"

"Apparently the keys to the boat are nowhere to be found." She finally explains.

"And you think Jonh B stole them?" I lift both my brows. "Mom, come on, I mean I would expect something like this from dad but not from you."

"No, no" My mom shakes her head, reaching for my hand. "No, honey. You know what I think of him, I care about John B, I've known him since he was a child. I wouldn't mind if he took the key and had fun on the boat with his friends for a few days but you know how your dad gets."

"It's always the pogues' fault." I roll my eyes.

"Please talk to him, " She nods. "I would hate for him to lose his job because of something like this. Just ask if he took them."

I nod back. "Fine, I will."

"Thanks, honey." She places a kiss on my forehead. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight mom." I hold my smile until she closes the door. Why would John B take the keys to our boat? He knows that if he simply asked me or my mom we would let him borrow it. This doesn't seem like something he would do but then again, the only people that have access to the boat are me, my parents, and him. I reach for my phone and call John B but the phone rings and rings with no answer. I try a few more times, before trying Kie and Pope, but no luck. I stare at his number for a few seconds before pressing call, mentally preparing myself to listen to his voice after so long but just like the rest of them, he doesn't pick up.

"What the hell? Why is none answering?" .

.

.

I decided to go by the chateau after my morning shift at the cafe. I prepare myself and go over the things I'll say if by chance JJ's there as well but I stop in my tracks when an unfamiliar van comes into view packed outside the house. Sounds of glass breaking, things being thrown around, and doors slamming can be heard as I move closer to the house. I push myself behind a big tree, narrowing my eyes, trying to peer through the open window, when 2 men come into view. Big, muscular, and scary looking. Fear begins to spread through my body.

"You better not be in there boy!" One of them yells as they both throw themselves to a closed door, trying to open it. They kick and punch at the old wooden door as it slowly begins to crumble. Suddenly I see the window on the side of the house opening, and a body quickly forcing its way out of it. He turns around and I immediately recognise Pope's face. Kie follows shortly after with John B right behind them. They begin to run my way as I stay frozen, completely shocked by what's happening right in front of me. Pope's eyes lock with mine, his face taken over by a scared expression probably mirroring mine.

"Guys." He yells in a whispering tone and everyone's heads snap my way. JJ is the last to jump out the window, running behind his friends.

His eyes fall on me, eyes widening. "No, no, no." He mumbles as they all reach me. "No, not now." He grabs my arm just when a gunshot echoes through the area. I gasp, my body numbing with fear as JJ drags me along with them, my eyes not leaving the house as the 2 guys open the door and burst into the room that they guys came out of. JJ pulls me inside the small chicken coop closing the small door behind us. I bring my hand to cover my mouth, my fingers trembling. I look around taking in all of their scared faces. "W-what-" I try to say.

"What are you doing here?" JJ angrily whispers, pulling me by the arm to face him but I don't react.

"JJ now is not the time." Kie snaps at him, fear written all over her face as well. The chickens begin to make noise, yet nothing reaches me. "Do something. " She nods towards the chickens.

"Like what? Pet them?" Pope jokes while trying not to panic.

JJ reaches over taking the chicken in his hands and squeezing his little neck until it eventually stops breathing. I try to take deep breaths but my eyes stay locked on the house as the men get inside the car and drive off. Kiara takes my hand in her, tears wetting her cheeks.

"I think it's clear." John B says. "Come on." He steps out of the coop, Pope and Kiara following him.

JJ moves in front of me, stepping out as well. He extends his hand for me to take. My trembling fingers wrap around it, allowing him to pull me out. 

"What are you here?" He repeats. His eyes look at me still panicked, moving around my face almost fanatically. His hands come up to my face, pushing hair away.

"I.." I try to form a sentence but my mouth is dry. "I was looking f-for John B."

"God." He runs his fingers through his hair, moving around.

"I thought we were going to die." Kie breathes out, holding her hand over her chest. Pope moves to her side and pulls her into a side hug.

"What just happened?" I say still trying to catch my own breath. "Who are they? What did they want?"

John B looks at his friends, and I know that he's silently asking them if he can tell me. He walks towards me. "Hey, I'm sorry you had to see that." He pulls me to his chest.

"Are you in trouble?" I look up at him. "you know that my mom will help you with anything. Just tell me."

"Y/n-"

"You don't have to know everything." JJ says, his hands crossed in front of him, his face suddenly cold.

I move my eyes to him, confused by his tone and sudden energy shift.

"JJ.." Kiara sends him a careful glare.

"Why were you looking for me?"

"Um," I mumble, my eyes still fixated on JJ. "did you take the keys to our boat?"

He closes his eyes, cursing under his breath. "Yeah," he looks at his friends again, all of them looking at me apologetically. What the hell is going on? I'm used to not being involved in pretty much anything when it comes to them, but this is not a joke.

I narrow my eyes at all of them, shaking my head. "Can anyone please explain to me what the fuck just happened?"

"Look Y/n-" Pope takes a step forward but JJ cuts him off, placing a hand on his chest.

"No, she doesn't need to know."

"What's wrong with you?" Anger overtakes my tone. He's acting like an asshole right now. "Do you realise what just happened JJ? Those guys had a gun."

"I know that Y/n." He clenches his jaw, walking back towards me. "but it doesn't involve you, so just go back to figure 8 cause last time I checked that's where you belong." He gets closer to my face and I feel my whole body stiffens at his cruel words. "Stop trying to be a pogue." 

I tighten the muscles on my face, not wanting to let the tears leave my eyes but the unexpected anger overtakes my body and my hand moves across his face, slapping him hard. His face freezes, staying to the right. He has never spoken to me like that. He has never acted this way towards me and I hate it.

"Fuck you dude." I spit, shaking my head. I turn to John B. "Give me the keys." I don't care why they took them and I don't wanna know what happened anymore, I just wanna go home.

"Y/n.." He gives an apologetic look.

"Give. me. the. keys." My tone is sharp as I open my palm in front of him.

He lets out a sigh before dropping them in my palm. I put them in my pocket, not saying a word to him, and turn around.

"Y/n, let me come with you." Kie offers.

"I'd rather not." I say getting inside my car and slamming the door shut. I pull out without waiting for any of them to try and stop me and drive off, letting the tears finally fall. Tears of fear, tears of anger, and tears of hurt. He was right; I desperately wanted to be one of them my whole life but that wasn't the reason why I asked. I don't give a shit what they were doing and how they ended up in a situation like that, but it was serious. It wasn't fun and games, those guys weren't joking around and I care about them. All of them. If they're in trouble I want to help them as much as I can. My mom would understand them and she would do anything to help cause she's a pogue. But I'm not. I'm not and they'll never see me as one. They'll never trust me enough. He'll never let me get close. I know how it is and I thought that I had accepted it but clearly I was wrong cause it hurts.

. . . .

It's been 2 days and yet I'm still on edge. I still look over my shoulder every 5 seconds, and I still flinch over any slightly loud noise. I've been zoning out constantly, my mind travelling back to that day and his words. It still hurts, the way he talked to me but it was the reality check that I needed. Maybe it's time to actually stop and move on.

I wipe the last of the tables getting ready to close the cafe. The sun is setting and I can't wait to go home and relax after a long day. I move to the counter, grabbing my stuff and making sure everything is closed and in order when I hear the 'ding' the door makes when it opens.

"I'm sorry we're closed-" I turn around coming face to face with the 2 men that broke into John B's house.

Their faces hold the same smug expression, satisfied with the clear shock that overtakes my whole body. "We're not here for coffee." One of them says, his voice raspy and low.

My feet move backwards until my back hits the front of the counter. "I-I can't help you then." I shutter.

"Oh but you can," He smirks. "you can deliver a message to John B for us."  I shake my head repeatedly, my chest heavy as I try to breathe. He grabs me by the arm, his fingertips digging painfully into my skin while the other finds my neck, choking me.

"And since words won't do it for them, maybe this will. "The other one says, nodding to his partner with a smirk. The guy releases me and before I have time to catch my breath, his hand slaps me across the face so hard that it sends me to the ground.

"Ugh." It takes me a few seconds for my sense to return, my head heavy with pain and my skin burning. He grabs me by the shirt, forcing me upwards only to bring his hand across my face again. I yell in pain, tears streaming down my face as the taste of blood fills my mouth. My eyes struggle to focus.

He stands straight, looking down at me. "P-Please stop." I beg but he stays unphased, kicking me right in the stomach. Pain spreads through my body, my knees coming to my chest as I cough violently. He kicks me again, and again, his boot finding my face at some point and I scream until there's no strength in me to make noise anymore. The tears won't stop and breathing gets harder by the second.

"Tell your friend that he better give us the compass or else he's next. "He pulls my head up by my hair causing me to whine in pain. He gives me one last evil smirk before slamming it back on the wooden floor and walking away without a second glance at my aching body, his partner following.

I sob violently at this point, trying to keep my head focused and my eyes open but they're getting heavier and heavier, the world starting to spin. I don't know how long I stayed on the floor in and out of consciousness but when I heard my name being yelled my eyes snapped open.

John B kneels by my side. "Oh my god Y/n, what happened?" He says, his voice full of panic. His hands' ghost over my body not knowing where to touch me as he scans the injuries.

I don't reply but a broken sob escapes me.

"It's okay, it's gonna be okay." He slides his hands carefully under my body, my face twitching with pain. He takes me in his arms and walks out of the cafe. "It's okay, you're safe, I got you." he murmurs against my head. He lays me down on the back seat of the twinkie before hopping in on the driver's seat. His hands move fast, his eyes wild, looking back at me every 2 seconds as he drives.

"What happened?" He whispers. "W-who did this?"

I keep my eyes close and try to control my breathing but the pain is too much. "T-those men" The words that leave my mouth are barely audible but he catches them.

His hands tighten around the wheel, before punching it. He looks back at me anger written all over his face, his eyes almost watering. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Y/n. It's all my fault."

"The compass.." I drag out, causing him to look back at me with wide eyes but everything fades again.

I feel his hands on me again. He takes me in his arms. "We're here." He whispers and I bury my face in his neck. I recognise his house immediately. He takes big steps almost running trying to hold me without causing me pain.

He reaches the house. "Guys!." he yells. "Help!"

"Oh my god, Y/n," Kie cries out rushing to us.

"What happened?" Pope tries to help John B carry me to the couch.

"Y/n." It's his voice that makes my eyes finally open and it's the look on his face when he sees me that hurts more that the pain in my body. A single sharp breath leaves his mouth before he's by my side as John B places me on the couch. I let out a small whine.

"What happened?" He whispers, dropping to his knees beside me. "What happened?!" He yells turning to John B who has his hands buried in his hair, pacing around the room. Kie appears back in the room with a first aid kit.

"Those men, the 2 men that broke in, jumped on her. " He answers.

"What?" Pope says. "Why would they do that to her? How do they even know her?"

"It's the boat, idiots." Kie angrily says passing some ice to JJ. "They saw us jumping inside it to escape them."

"Baby," JJ presses the ice to my cheek, with trembling hands. I can already feel different parts of my body brushing. His other hand comes to my head, brushing my hair back. "Baby, I'm sorry." He places his lips against my forehead. His lips tremble, and he shakes his head, eyes wide full of fear and anger. "You're gonna be okay, I'm here yeah? I'm not leaving you again." He whispers, his voice breaking.

Kie appears next to us. "Jay, let me take care of her." She touches his shoulder. "She needs help and rest."

JJ leaves one last kiss on the side of my face before getting up. "I'm gonna fucking kill them."I hear him growl before he and the boys move further into the house. Kie cleans up all my wounds and takes care of the cuts that I had on my face.

"Get some rest okay?" She smiles a sad smile at me.

"Thanks, Kie." I mumbled before drifting off.

. . . . . .

I shiver, the sudden cold air that hits my exposed skin forces my eyes open, waking me up from my slumber. The living room is dark, not a single person is here except me. I try to lift my body into a seating position, and a sharp but lighter pain spreads around my stomach and back causing me to whine.

I hear a groan from my left and I turn to find JJ's sleeping body laying on the floor. His closed eyes twitch before opening. It takes a few seconds for him to react but when he sees me awake his body shoots up, hands stretching towards my body.

"Y/n," He breathes. "hey."

I rub my eyes with the back of my hands. "What time is it?"

"Um," His hands fumble with his phone. "It's almost 3 am. You fell asleep"

"Hmm," I hum, lifting myself into a seating position. "My parents-"

"Kiara texted them from your phone that you're gonna stay at hers tonight." He says. "Take it easy." He touches my back softly. A sad expression overtakes his face when he sees me struggling to straighten my back.

"Y/n.." He shakes his head and I know exactly what he's going to say.

"It's okay, it's fine." I reassure him. JJ tends to hold a lot of guilt inside. He thinks that he's responsible for anything that happens. It seems like he holds the weight of the world on his shoulders when there's really no need.

"No, it's not." He shakes his hand repeatedly. "It's not. I can't stand seeing you hurt because of me. You did nothing wrong, it shouldn't have happened like this." His eyes drop to his hands that are resting on my thighs.

"It's not your fault." I place my hand on top of his.

"But it is. We stole your boat to escape, they saw that. And then I acted like a dick refusing to tell you anything in order to protect you and keep you out of it when in the end it's you who got hurt." His voice is filled with guilt and anger.

"Protect me from what?" I scoff. "What's going on Jay?"

His eyes soften at the nickname but he stays quiet.

"Why don't you trust me?" I mumble, mostly to myself.

"I do trust you." He defends.

"Just not enough right?" I smile a little.

He closes his eyes. "Y/n, you know it's not like that. You know me."

"Apparently I don't JJ." I raise my tone a little. "I mean I thought I did, I wanted to. I was patient and I was understanding. I listened to you and I was there. As much as you would let me at least." I go on, and all the words that I was holding inside come rushing out. "The JJ I know would not talk to me like that, the JJ I know would not disappear for days, the JJ I know would not keep secrets from me."

"Y/n-" He tries to interrupt me.

"No, I get it, I know my place. " I hold a hand up between us. "I know we're not together but I care JJ. " I admit looking at him dead in the eye. His face falls at my words, jaw tightening. "I liked it when you would climb through my window and we would talk for hours about all the things you guys had done that day and I liked it when I would sneak out after midnight and go on bike rides with you. I liked how we would surf together or how we would lay on my rooftop, looking at the stars talking about all the things we want in life. You were the one that was pushing me to join you in all kinds of things, you would always tell me that I was a pogue deep down." Tears threaten to spill but I try to contain them.

"You were the one that pushed me away," He point a finger towards me. "Since day one, since the first day we fucked, you never wanted me."

"JJ," I lift my hands to my hair, struggling to control my anger. "I was trying to protect myself!"

"For what?" He shoots back, his frustration building as well.

"From you!" His shoulders fall. "I wanted you, I've always wanted you but I know you." I sigh, studying his beautiful, blue eyes that are piercing mine. "I know better than to let myself fall and believe that this is more than it is." I say quietly.

He tilts his head, his eyes never leaving mine. "I tried to stay away from you because I couldn't stand to hold you and know that you aren't mine. Every time I would look at your face, I would see nothing but walls. We would have sex and then you would go back to being cold and wanting to be as far away from me as possible and I honestly get it, people like me don't deserve people like you."

I shake my head in disbelief. "How can you say that?"

"Cause it's true." He chuckles sadly. "Look at you and look at me." He motions between us.

"Stop." I close my eyes, unable to stand the way he views himself, I wish he could see how extraordinary he actually is.

"Y/n, I know." His gaze hardens. "But when John B walked through that door with you almost unconscious in his arms. Your body and face brushed and beaten," He twitches his face as if the image brushes through his mind and physically hurts him. "I lost it. My heart dropped. Nothing mattered but making sure that you were okay and holding you in my arms. The thought that something like that had happened to you," He shakes his head, reaching to take my jaw in his hands gently. "I can't fucking stand it. And I swear to you that I will search the whole island for these motherfuckers and I'll fucking kill them for laying a finger on you." He leans forward, his forehead inches away from mine.

A small smile creeps on my lips at his words, my heart warming instantly.

"I'm sorry about what I said the other day, all I wanted was to protect you and I'm sorry for disappearing on you. I'm sorry about all the lying and the secrets and I'm sorry I can't be what you need and deserve." His eyes move all over my face while his thumbs move gently over my cheekbones.

I bite my lip. "JJ, you're all I want. You're more than enough." I say with my whole heart, wanting nothing more than for him to see himself the way I do. "You're the most incredible person I know and it hurts me that don't see it."

"I don't deserve you." He whispers, his lips ghosting over mine. His breath becomes my breath.

"Shut up." I smile crushing my lips to his. It doesn't take more than a second for him to react, moving his mouth against mine, inhaling sharply as if I'm oxygen. I let out a low moan as JJ's lips started nibbling at mine, demanding entrance that I'm all too happy to grant. It's ridiculous how much I've missed him, the taste of his lips is enough to make all the pain disappear. Everything fades away as our tongues collide, teasing and testing each other. My hands travel to his hair, tugging lightly while he holds my waist carefully. I push myself forwards, sucking on his bottom lip before capturing it between my teeth. I can feel him holding back, he digs his fingers into my skin and releases a sharp breath.

"Y/n," He lets out a low groan, breaking the kiss.

My frustration builds more with each second passing, wanting nothing more than to feel his hands on me. I need to feel him. "What?" I breathe out.

"Maybe.." His eyes fall to my swollen lips, his mouth opening. "Maybe we should take it slow, considering what you went through the last few hours."

I shake my head. "No, I want you." I inch forward wanting to taste him again but he doesn't let me.

"Princess, trust me I want nothing more than to throw you on the couch and fuck you senseless while you scream my name for everyone to hear." He tilts his head downwards, his words making my insides hot and causing my thighs to clench together, hoping for some relief. His eyes big and wild, hungrily staring back at mine while I let my hands explore and touch his face, brushing his hair back and down his neck. My burning desire for his touch has overtaken me completely, my stomach tightens just at the thought of all of the things we could do but I know that he's right, my body still feels beaten and heavy.

"You need to rest for tonight." He takes my jaw between his fingers.

"Will you stay with me?" I'm scared that the minute we leave each other, things will go back to how they were, and what I realised after tonight and after what happened is that I don't wanna be without him anymore. I don't want to be scared anymore cause you never know what will happen.

His face breaks into a soft smile. "Lay down."

His arms felt familiar yet foreign. Like I missed the feeling of falling asleep buried in his chest, his scent filling my senses but different like something's changed.

.

.

.

.

The book that I'm reading has been getting less and less interesting with each minute passing. Maybe it's the fact that it's 10:00 pm and I'm laying in my bed, reading on Saturday night, or the fact that he hasn't called me or even texted the whole day. It's been a few days since the incident at the cafe. After we woke up that day JJ drove me back home and explained pretty much everything, about The Royal Merchant, the compass that they found, and how it lead them to the tape recorder that Big John left for his son. I still can't believe some of the things that happened to them and what they discovered. He made me promise that I won't tell a soul, something I would have done even if he hadn't asked. I haven't seen him since, mostly cause my parents have been babying me none stop. I told them what happened at the cafe, twisted around a little the actual truth, and claimed that the 2 men tried to rob the cafe but JJ and John B showed up. I haven't gone to school or done anything in general for the past few days. I've been laying low and have recovered completely but my mind has been stuck on what JJ told me. Through the days I found myself wondering what they were doing and wishing I was with them.

A knock on my widow breaks me out of my thoughts. JJ sends me a small wave. My head snaps to my door, checking if it's closed before running to open the window. He quickly pushes his tall body through the small opening, stumbling a little in the process.

"Hi" he breathes out, standing up straight.

"Hi," I giggle "what are you doing here?" I scan him with my eyes making sure that he's okay and also taking in the sight of him that I've missed so much.

"I wanted to check up on you." He says, running his hands through his hair.

My hands are itching, wanted to reach in and touch him but I don't know if that is too much. Honestly, I don't know where we stand, all I know is that I've missed him.

His eyes move around my face while he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth. My eyes catch the movement. "Come here." He mutters before reaching forward and wrapping his arms around my waist. I bury my face into the curve of his neck, my eyes closing at the feeling of his embrace.

"I missed you." He speaks so quietly that I almost didn't catch it.

I tighten my arms around his neck, silently responding. I missed him too.

"I was worried about you." I say, pulling away slightly.

"About me?" He lifts his brows playfully. "Come on have a little faith in my survival skills princess."

I slap his shoulder lightly, trying to hide my smile. "What happened? Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah, everyone's fine." He brushes me off. "I'll tell you everything but first.." He cups my jaw with his hands and presses his lips to mine. I let out a surprised sound that dies in my throat before moving my lips against his, responding. I feel him smile into the kiss and he opens his mouth slightly, allowing my tongue to slide inside. He hums as our tongues play with each other, letting his hands fall to my waist. He pulls my body closer to his, forcing me to my tiptoes while the kiss gets heavier. The sound of our lips and our heavy breathing fills the room.

"My parents will hear us." I breathe out.

"I don't care." He attacks my lips again, backing me slowly until the back of my knees hit my bed. He breaks the kiss and gives me a light push causing me to fall on the bed. He stares down at me with a smirk slowly dropping his hands to the bottom of his shirt and peeling it off his body. My eyes take him in, his chest and abs on full display. I bite my lip wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch him. He leans down, wrapping his hands around my neck, forcing my head upwards to look at him.

"Don't look at me like that." He drawls out.

I relax my face, staring at him through my lashes. "Like what?"

He pushes me down completely, my back flat against the bed while his legs are spread on each side of my hips.

He gives me a light slap on the cheek but it's enough to make my back arch and my thighs to clench together. "Don't test me, princess, 'cause I don't give a shit about your parents being just across the hall."

My hands find the bottom of my own shirt, pulling it over my head. "I don't give a shit either."

"Fuck." He dives right into my chest, his mouth nibbling and sucking on my exposed skin. My hands go to his hair instantly, guiding him to my breasts. He wastes no time, unclipping my bra and taking one of my nipples in his mouth.

"Mhh," I moan as he circles his tongue around the hardening nub. His hands hold my hips down when I try to find some relief by grinding my hips to his. His lips travel farther down teasingly, dragging his tongue over my stomach and stopping at the top of my pajama pants. His eyes shoot up, the light and hunger in them challenging me. His fingers toy with the fabric, pulling it down slowly, not breaking eye contact while I lift my hips, allowing him to fully take it off. He straightens up, his hands fumbling with his belt with his eyes glued to my panties. His breathing hardens when I open my thighs exposing myself to him.

"You have no idea how I missed you." He groans, pulling his pants down.

I blink at him with a small smile. "How much?"

His eyes darken, looking down at my figure hard. " Let me show you." He pulls me by the thighs to the edge of the bed and kneels down right in front of my core. I inhaled sharply as he wastes no time ripping my panties off of me. His eyes beamed with hunger, taking in the sight of me. He lowers himself just a little, his hot breath fanning my bare pussy causing shivers to spread through my body. He looks up, eyes narrowing playfully using the tip of his tongue to deliver a soft flick over my clit. My legs twitch slightly, which causes him to smile.

"Stay still princess." He pins my hips down again and drags his tongue over my slit. He groans against me, the vibration shooting through me while he wastes no time diving in and moving his tongue at a faster pace. Heat explodes through my veins, my toes curling at the feeling of his wet muscle absolutely devouring me with no hesitation. He sucks and nibbles, drawing and flickering against my sensitive nerves as I whimper shamelessly underneath him. My hand shoots to his hair, head falling back and my back arching when I feel not one but two fingers slotting into my entrance.

"Oh my god, Jay." I rasp out, my palm covering my mouth.

His fingers start moving violently fast inside me, filling the room with pornographic wet sounds as the heat on my lower stomach builds embarrassingly fast. "Fuck baby, you're so wet." He groans against me before moving his thumb to cover my clit, rubbing circles in a fast motion.

His mouth attaches to my neck, taking the soft skin between his lips. "I want you to come on my fingers baby can you do that for me?" He whispers in my ear.

My body lifts off the mattress, feeling myself climbing higher and higher. "I-I'm gonna-" The words die in my throat as a giant wave of unexpected pleasure crashes over me, my eyes roll all the way back to my head, my mind going completely numb as his fingers keep up the pace allowing me to ride it out.

"That's it, baby," He mumbles against my neck. I close my eyes, still feeling the tingling sensation lingering in my belly. He pulls his fingers out, the aftermath of my orgasm dripping to his palm. He wraps his swollen lips around them, testing me while piercing me with his blue eyes.

He moans lightly. "The taste of you is incredible."

"Can I have a taste?" I nod down to his visibly hard member, that's fighting against the fabric of his boxers as he straightens his back, towering over me. My mouth watering at the thought, hands inching to fill the weight of his throbbing cock against them.

A low chuckle escapes him. "I would die to feel those pretty lips around my dick," He takes my jaw between his fingers. "But there's something I want more right now." He captures his bottom lip between his teeth, reaching to pull his boxers down. His dick shoots up free hitting his stomach, my eyes flicker to the tip, red and swollen with drops of precum coating it already. He pulls the drawer of my nightstand open, grabs a condom from the ones that he left a few weeks back, and quickly rolls it over his dick. He takes both of my wrists in his hands before I have any time to touch him and slams me back down on the bed.

He pins my hands over my head. "Your hands stay there."

I nod, trying to stop the grin of excitement that's forming on my lips. The feeling of need and frustration that only he can make me feel and that I've missed so much overtakes me as he lines his dick in my entrance. His tip brushes over my clit, opening my folds before pushing in slowly.  His forehead falls on mine and we both gasp as he fills me up entirely.

"Shit, princess." He hisses when I nod my head and give him the green light to move which he wastes no time doing. He pulls out all the way before slamming back in, filling me up again with such a powerful push that it causes me to gasp out loud. His hips find a rhythm in no time, attacking me with sharp, deep thrusts that make my breasts bounce almost painfully. His forceful movements draw all kinds of sounds out of me while everything begins to fade. My ears fill with the sound of my own heartbeat and his low moans and grunts as he pushes in and out of me, stretching me out with the size of his cock. I fight to keep my eyes open, only being able to focus on his beautiful face, that's overtaken by a mesmerizing fucked out expression. His eyebrows are drawn together, drops of sweat coating his forehead while his mouth hangs slightly open. He looks breathtaking as he fucks me senseless, reminding me with each thrust that in reality, he's all I want. His hands reach for the back of my right thigh, lifting it a little gaining access to a better angle that allows him to thrust deeper. My eyes roll back, unable to contain the pleasure that shoots from my core, my hands fly to his back, nails dining to the soft flesh, earning a deep grunt from him.

"You're doing so well baby, look at you taking my dick like a good girl." He grabs my neck with his free hands, his pace quickening making the knot in my stomach tighten. I dig my nails deeper, hands tugging his hair while both of our bodies dripping with sweat but I don't care about anything except my second orgasm that approaches.

"Are you gonna come for me again princess?" He teases me, feeling my walls tighten against him. "Tell me how good it feels, and maybe I'll let you come." He demands, tilting his head downwards and tightening his grip around my neck.

I can feel my wall throbbing, tightening painfully around his dick trying to keep him inside as heat begins to spread in my belly. "It feels so good Jay, so fucking good please baby don't stop." My dignity dissolves as tears start to form at the corners of my eyes.

"Tell me I'm the only one you want." His thrusts being to get sloppy, signalling that his own high is approaching. His eyes are wild, and everything starts to feel overwhelming.

"Y-you're the only one, I only want you." I confess, my tone desperate and begging.

He connects our foreheads again, hand dropping to my clit and with a single flick of his finger, I'm over the edge. My back arches, black spots fill my vision, and an almost euphoric feeling pulses through my veins. My brain and body are overtaken with pleasure and I keep my eyes shut as JJ's orgasm hits him just as hard.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." He buries his face in the curve of my neck, letting his low groans fill my ear. I let him ride it out, ignoring the over-sensitivity that I start to feel. His body freezes for a few seconds as he releases into the condom before collapsing on top of me. I feel his heart drumming in his chest while he tries to control his breathing. I'm still in a state of bliss, ears still ringing and heart still beating fast. We stay like this for a good minute, our sweaty bodies touching and our fast breathing filling the air until he decides to lift himself off me and fall to the side.

Silence overtakes us, letting everything that just happened sink in. He pops himself on his elbow, head resting on his hand as he looks down at me with soft eyes. His hair going in every possible direction, his lips swollen and his neck covered in marks I don't remember making.

I smile at the sight of him.

"What?" His breathing is still uneven.

"You're pretty." I think out loud.

His eyes shift, lips curving upwards. "I love you, Y/n."

The raw emotion is visible as he speaks the words, causing my heart to stop for a split second. The words I desperately wanted to hear and desperately wanted to say for so long. The skin of my cheeks tingled but I say nothing, still processing what he just said.

His face breaks into a smile, unphased by my silence. "Fuck, I wanted to say that for so long." He lets out a breath of relief, pushing his hair back.

I've dreamt about this moment, never actually believing that it'll happen, thinking that just a hookup was all that I would ever be for JJ.

I stare deep into his ocean eyes. "I love you too JJ." I speak the easiest truth I've ever had to say out loud.

His smile grows more, overtaking his whole face and causing his eyes to almost close. I reach over throwing a hand around his neck and kissing him like I've never had before. We both smile into the kiss and giggles fill the air.

"I'm in love with you." He says again, against my lips.

His phone interrupts our moment before I have the chance to say it back again.

He sighs, reaching towards the floor to retrieve it from the pocket of his pants.

"What?" He picks up, keeping his eyes on me. His face drops, eyebrows coming together. "Slow down, slow down." His gaze shifts and I lift myself to a seating position, quickly throwing my shirt on. "Okay, I'm coming got it." His body almost bounces as he paces back and forth, his free hand moving fanatically until he stops right in front of me, ending the call.

His eyes light up and a challenging smile tugs at his lips.

"What?" I ask, completely lost.

"Wanna join me on a treasure hunt princess?" He grins.

"What do you mean?" My face twitches with confusion.

"John B needs me, they found something." He begins to get dressed.

"And what? You want me to join you guys?" I can't help the excitement that spreads over my face. "What do you mean?"

"The guys are waiting for us at Kie's place." He stands up straight, all dressed and ready with his hands resting on his hips. "That's the reason I came here." He bites his bottom lip, trying to contain his smile. "To get you. They guys are okay with it, especially with everything happening with Sarah and John B. " He waves his hands around.

I frown." What's going on with Sara and John B?"

He shakes his head, reaching for my waist. "I'll explain on the way. Are you in or not?"

I look into his eyes, the deepest shade of blue I've ever seen. The eyes that I've fallen so hard for and I would do anything for. The eyes that are now silently inviting me, challenging me, and making my heart beat faster. All my life I wanted nothing more than to be like them, to feel what it's like to live life their way, and even though what happened was the scariest thing I've ever experienced I can't help but give him a small nod.

His teeth make an appearance before he takes my face in his hands, planting a kiss on my lips. "Get dressed then baby, the gold is waiting." He smirks.

I smile against his lips. I guess my mom was right; the choice is pretty easy if you follow your heart.

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

comparing case notes on the ride home at the end of a long day

did all the perspective myself! it kinda' turned out jank but it's what it's. i'll get better at it eventually

really tried to capture the essence of revachol architecture style with this. the metro lines were built by the communards in '79 of the last century, about 11 years into the dictatorship. various cities in revachol have metro, but none are as extensive as jamrock's metro. however, due to mismanagement and embezzlement and war, a lot of the metro stations remain unfinished, especially in the poorest parts of the city (for example, it was never finished in the coal city district of jamrock, which is big enough to count as it's own city. the metro line was dug out, but the tracks were never layed due to the project never reaching completion and due to the commies not really caring to build out there. in the valley of the dogs, which is in west jamrock and about as poor as coal city, the metro wasn't even built at all due to there being a huge immigrant population out there and a lot of bullshit from the government). anyways a lot of homeless people live out in those abandoned stations. this among a billion other things really adds to how much east revachol and its slightly richer cities really think lowly of west revachol and jamrock despite not being much better off themselves

the metro cars and the metro stations are built in the neo-perikinassian style that the communards favored for all their structures (neo-perikinassian is an elysium equivalent to our neo-classical style). this style intends to give a vibe of old world richness and power and strong authoritative government, while also attempting to create a strong, national revacholian architectural style, celebrating insulinde's original pagan origins by reflecting traditional folk patterning. communism in revachol wanted to be purely revacholian, taking zero influence from the colonies that revachol used to rule over. the dictatorship did away completely with insulinde's original colonial past, trying to embrace a new totally revacholian identity and erasing anything deemed not revacholian. unfortunately, revachol is an immigrant country, with a history of colonialism and slavery, and a LOT of that has become a huge part of revacholian and insulindian culture. revachol is a melting pot, a mixture of influences from all over. the communists tried to erase this and make a new identity, but of course this attempted to erase everything else that makes revachol revachol. so in trying to make a new, purely revacholian identity, they erased true revachol from the books.

anways, they favored the neo-perikinassian art style with folk embellishments, but because revachol is revachol, there are also a whole lot of style moderne (revachol's art deco, a lot of airships, sunrises, and anti-pale shit) and noul stil (revachol's art nouveau which involves a lot of ocean and air organic motifs instead of flowers and the like) influences of course. as you can see here, there's noul stil motifs in the way that the lights are pearls and that they have waves on them. in fact, to go on yet another tangent, revachol's 'new disco' architecture, which started in jamrock during the new with the building of skyscrapers and new buildings in the style and spread to the rest of revachol, is a modern day revival of style moderne and noul stil that combines elements of both (i get a very og wizard of oz emerald city vibe).

anyways that's my lore essay. i really wanted to capture the feeling of being in revachol, specifically jamrock. the metro cars are also slightly based off bucharest's communist metro cars as well as the newer ones, but of course with a lot of wood instead because revachol and elysium are in a sort of era with their technology that mixes something of a industrial revolution 1890s victorian london, 1910s america and big cities right before the advent of skyscrapers and cars but also 1920s tech, and 1970s radio tech and all that shit. idk. some fucked up conglomeration

also guy on the left is someone from my de server's oc. i don't know their tumblr otherwise i'd tag!

oh and i tried to capture some kind of how the people of revachol are in general all types of people from many different ethnicities etc. and and the guy in the back looking at harry is one of jean's friends, enzo, who, after getting rejected from the rcm for being too violent (which is a big deal bc the rcm celebrates violence), joined la puta madre and now works to double-cross both lpm and rcm, doing what benefits him best. when jean and harry got captured by the lpm about 3 years back and almost died, it was enzo who saved them. enzo's one of jean's many connections he has in the city. harry doesn't remember him (but he will eventually. he has to figure out at some point where that big nasty scar on his stomach's from).

btw i spent like a wholeass hour or two one day trying to figure out what type of wood revachol would have because the commies use ONLY LOCAL RESOURCES. so i needed to figure out what type of wood they'd have. and i figured it was some kinda' birch with a very specific ashy grey wood. of course you can't see it here bc of the color-grading but yeah. know that i did research on that. ok?

anyways if you read this whole thing thank you very much for reading and congrats on getting thru it hahahaha. i really need to figure out a name for this au bc this is NOT kurwitz's elysium LOL

[chicgeekgirl89]

Summary: While responding to a multi-car pileup, Carlos is involved in an accident that leaves him fighting for his life. A/N: This was a request from @rubinsteinsilva126. They requested: I’d want a Carlos Whump story! Carlos getting injured, riding in the ambulance that TK responds to the call of, and then TK later holding Carlos in the hospital bed because Carlos was in pain and needed comfort 🥺 (Also, they requested this almost a literal year ago. So I am no longer taking requests because I am clearly bad at following through on them! 😂)

Read on AO3

T.K. does not want to be at the scene of a multi-car pileup. T.K. doesn’t want to be at work in general today. What T.K. wants is to be at home, in his bed, with the covers pulled up over his head, his moody playlist blasting in his ears.

But unfortunately his work schedule doesn’t care about his feelings in the slightest and instead he’s arriving in an ambulance at said multi-car pileup in the middle of the highway.

And his husband is here. Because of course he is.

T.K. spots Carlos directing traffic around the accident as soon as they pull up in the rig. Usually this would be a delight. Usually he would smile and wave and feel a rush of joy at seeing Carlos during a call. There’s something special about working together to save lives. 

But today he is not thrilled.

“Oh look, there’s Carlos,” Nancy says as they jump down from the rig and start gathering supplies. “Are you going to go say hi?”

At that moment Carlos sees them, his eyes locking with T.K.’s. Neither of them smile and after a second Carlos looks away, focusing on directing a blue Toyota around the mangled mess of cars.

“Well that seemed a little frosty,” Tommy says as she steps up next to them.

“Frosty? That was downright arctic,” Nancy says, eyeing him curiously. “Trouble in paradise?”

T.K. shifts the backpack on his shoulders, annoyed at how the straps are already digging into him after only a few seconds. “Carlos and I,” he says testily, “are in a fight.”

“Well that explains it,” Nancy says with a roll of her eyes. “You’ve been grouchy all day.”

“No I haven’t,” T.K. snaps back at her in annoyance. The only thing worse than being pissed off at your husband is having your friends point out that you’re pissed off at your husband.

“Sweetheart if looks could kill we’d both be dead,” Tommy says gently. “Several times over.”

“Well I’m—” T.K. huffs, “I’m mad at him.”

“Yeah that doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to suffer,” Nancy says. “What are you so mad at him about?”

T.K. turns his hands into fists, squeezing them tightly as all the feelings of the last twenty-four hours bubble just underneath the surface of his control. “He keeps turning the thermostat down.”

Tommy and Nancy both blink at him. When they don’t speak he presses on. “I turn it up and the next thing I know I come back out and it’s turned down again. It’s like he doesn’t even care about climate change at all!”

“Haven’t you two lived together for like, a long time now?” Nancy asks. ���Shouldn’t you have worked out the temperature of your living space at this point?”

“We had to replace the thermostat last week,” T.K. says. “It’s all different now.”

“I understand that must be frustrating, but I’m not sure it’s worth having a fight about,” Tommy says.

“That’s not the only thing,” T.K. continues. “It’s the pillows.”

“The pillows?” Nancy asks.

“He buys allllll these throw pillows and puts them all over the place, but guess what? Are we allowed to touch them? Lean on them? Use them for what they’re intended for? No. Why? Because they’re ‘decorative’ and if I lean on them they’ll ‘lose their shape.’ Isn’t that insane? Why do we have them if we can’t use them?”

“Okay, yes, that does seem kind of annoying,” Tommy says, but T.K. is on a roll, and now that he’s started airing his grievances to the public he can’t seem to stop.

“Also he got his hair cut too short last time!” he gripes, glaring at the back of his husband’s head.

“Um, his body his choice dude,” Nancy says.

“I know that!” T.K. says with a scowl. “But he knows how much I like his curls and he didn’t even tell me he was going to do it, he just showed back up at the loft looking like a sheep after shearing!”

He can hear the words they’d hurled at each other even now, as if he’s reliving them.

T.K. had come out of his shower, still toweling off his hair when he’d heard the whoosh of the AC system kicking on. Eyeing the thermostat on the wall he’d sighed. “Seriously Carlos?” he’d said, turning to look at his husband, who was reading in their bed.

“What?” Carlos asked in confusion.

“You turned the thermostat down. Again.”

“Yeah…” Carlos said slowly. “It was getting stuffy in here.”

“You know that air conditioning is a big part of the issue with our carbon footprint.” This shouldn’t have been a big deal to him, but T.K. had come from a meeting grumpy and in the mood for a fight.

Carlos set his book down and scoffed. “I don’t think using the air conditioning that was built into our home long before we moved in is that big of an issue T.K. We live on the top floor. Heat rises. It gets warm up here without it on.”

“Then open a window.”

Carlos bristled, rising to the bait T.K. was laying out for him.“It’s ninety five degrees outside! The air is so stagnant out there it’s like opening an oven door! Why are you freaking out about this?”

“I’m not freaking out, I’m just asking you to think about the environment and our electric bill!”

“Our electric bill is fine! What do you want me to do, plant a tree every time I turn the temperature down a degree?”

“That would be a start.”

Carlos rolled his eyes. “It’s my home too T.K. I should be allowed to have a say in it.”

“Oh, like I have a say with the throw pillows?” T.K. snapped.

“That’s totally different!”

“How Carlos? How is it different? You want to use the air conditioning, I want to use the throw pillows. It’s exactly. the. same.” He gestured sharply with his hand to emphasize his point.

“Because the air conditioning doesn’t lose shape and color when you lean against it! I picked them all out, I’d like them to stay nice so that when people come over they don’t look like shit!” Carlos’ eyes flashed dangerously, a sign that he was well and truly pissed off.

“You think our friends are judging us for our misshapen throw pillows? Wow you really are a control freak.” 

“You don’t care if our friends think our home is nice?”

“I really don’t.” That wasn’t true, but it felt good to say it in the moment.

Carlos rolled his eyes.“Okay. Sure. Next time we have game night we’ll just let our all friends sit against lumpy, flattened pillows.”

“Do you not hear how insane that sounds?!”

“Oh, is it as insane as keeping mealworms in our refrigerator next to our food so they last longer?”

T.K. gapes at him. “You said it was fine!”

“I said it was fine. I didn’t say I liked it,” Carlos said, his lips pressing together into a thin line.

“So you’d rather Lou II starve? Is that what you want?”

“No, of course not T.K.! It is unbelievable to me that you would even say that after all I’ve done for that stupid lizard!”

They’d gone on for another fifteen minutes before descending into frosty silence after T.K. declared he hated Carlos’ new haircut. Both of them refused to move to  the couch so they laid angrily next to each other until they fell asleep. The silence had persisted through the morning as they readied for work, ending in a terse, “Love you, be safe,” from both of them before they headed out the door.

“You’re comparing your husband to a sheep?” Tommy asks, an amused smile on her face.

“Yes!” T.K. gripes. “And that’s not all. He also—“

There’s a screech of tires and a car, a silver Honda, pulls out of the line of vehicles that are waiting to pass the accident and tries to zoom around them. Time slows and T.K. sees what’s about to happen and realizes there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

The Honda clips Carlos and sends him spinning, his body whirling like a top before he collapses to the ground, unmoving. 

“CARLOS!” His husband’s name tears from his lips and T.K. is running before he can think, feet flying over the ground to reach Carlos’ side. He skids to a stop and drops to his knees, backpack falling to the ground beside him.

Carlos is flat on his back, eyes wide, mouth gaping as a harsh, rasping sound escapes from his chest. He looks shocked, terrified, and T.K. can tell his own face is a mirror of the same horror. “Carlos, Carlos, hey, hey talk to me,” T.K. babbles out, hands hovering, afraid to touch, all his training completely gone from his mind as panic takes over.

“T.K.” His name comes out on a whimper and T.K.’s heart shatters inside of his chest. He’s never heard Carlos make such a terrible sound in his entire life.

The world around him feels like it’s moving through sludge, everything slow, muffled out of focus. The only thing he can see is Carlos’ pained expression. And then there are hands on T.K.’s back and everything snaps into real time as Nancy and Tommy join him on the ground.

“T.K. back up,” Tommy says sharply. “Give us some room to work.”

T.K. shuffles back awkwardly, hands clenching into the knees of his uniform pants to stop them from shaking. 

“Carlos, baby, where are you hurting?” Tommy asks as she takes scissors to Carlos’ uniform shirt.

“My…chest…” The words barely come out, strung together on forced gasps that sound terrible and painful. “Leg…”

“He’s not moving air,” Nancy says, a stethoscope pressed to Carlos’ chest. “I think it’s a pneumo Cap.”

“Okay, we’ll have to decompress him,” Tommy says. “Grab the kit. And a splint, he’s got a tibia fracture in his left leg.”

“On it.”

It’s all moving so fast, everything a blur, and T.K. is struggling to keep up with it all. It doesn’t feel real, this can’t be happening. Not to them. Not now. Not again—

“T.K. come hold his head,” Tommy orders.

In hindsight he’ll wonder if she really needed his help or was just giving him something to do so he didn’t come apart at the seams on the asphalt of the highway, but in the moment he does exactly what she asks without question, his hands, cloaked in blue gloves, cradling Carlos’ head just above the c-spine collar they’ve put on him to keep his neck stabilized.

Carlos’ terrified eyes look up at him, boring deeply into his own and T.K. should offer some words of comfort, tell him he’s going to be okay, that they’re taking good care of him, but he can’t. The words won’t come.

He can tell when they finally shove the needle into Carlos’ chest, feels relief when air hisses out and Carlos takes a huge breath. “That’s it, keep breathing Carlos,” Tommy says as Nancy slips an oxygen mask over his face. “You’re doing great. Just relax and let us take care of you.”

She glances up her eyes finding T.K.’s and usually he would grab onto the calm he sees in them, but he can’t right now. His spirit feels wild, like it’s been torn loose from his body and is whirling around in an uncontrollable storm. “T.K., you with me?”

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Good. Because I’m going to need your help getting him onto the backboard.”

They roll Carlos on and then get him into the ambulance. Later T.K. will find out the entire event took less than ten minutes. In the moment it feels like hours. 

T.K. sits in the back of the ambulance with Tommy as Nancy drives. He watches as Carlos’ body finally starts to relax, morphine doing its work as it drips into his veins. 

He looks up into T.K.’s eyes and it’s only then that T.K. realizes he’s crying, his eyes a darker brown color than usual that only comes when tears are falling. T.K. reaches down and carefully wipes them away.

“I’m—“ Carlos’ voice is breathy and muffled behind the mask, but he pushes the words out anyway, “—sorry.”

T.K. shakes his head his own tears falling now, droplets landing in his lap and soaking into his pants. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he says, brushing a hand gently through those short curls that he said he hated last night and now he loves more than anything in the world. “I’m sorry.”

“Call…my….mom?”

T.K. nods. “As soon as we get to the hospital and you’re checked in okay?”

Carlos’ eyes close and T.K. thinks the medicine and the pain have finally pulled him under, but then the blinks them open again, and they spear him with a terrified intensity. “Scared.”

Oh god. Oh god this is going to break him. “I know you’re scared,” T.K. says, clearing his throat when his voice cracks and resuming brushing his fingers gently through Carlos’ hair. “But you’re okay. You’re stable and we’re almost to the hospital. They’re going to take good care of you and soon…soon all of this will just be a memory. We’ve got you. Tommy’s here and Nancy and…and we’ve got you.”

He hopes that will be enough.

Within fifteen minutes of arriving at the hospital Carlos is taken off to be prepped for surgery. That’s when T.K. finally loses it, collapsing into a chair and sobbing into his hands as Nancy rubs his back while Tommy takes over the task of calling Andrea and his dad.

“He’s going to be okay,” Nancy says, but T.K. can hear tears in her voice too. “It’s a pneumo, some bleeding, broken bones, it’s all fixable. He’ll be all right.”

“What if he’s not?” T.K. cracks out. “What if this is…what if he…and the last thing we did was fight about the thermostat?”

“T.K., Carlos knows it was just a fight,” Nancy says. “Couples have fights. About important stuff and stupid stuff.”

“She’s right.” Tommy sits down on his other side. “Just because you were having an argument, it doesn’t negate everything else. Carlos knows that. And you do too.”

“It was just so stupid,” T.K. says, sniffing and wiping ineffectually at his eyes which will not stop crying. “How could I have been so stupid?” He struggles to push the next words past his throat. “I don’t want to lose him.”

“I know,” Tommy says. “Let’s not go there yet though, hm? Let’s have faith. Carlos is strong. He can pull through this.”

Andrea and his dad arrive and T.K. pulls it together enough to be strong for his mother-in-law who needs to believe that she’s not going to watch her only son die when the loss of her husband still feels so fresh. T.K. explains what happened, interprets everything the doctor told him on arrival, discusses what the surgery will entail, and the possible outcomes. 

It’s exhausting and he takes himself off to the bathroom for another crying jag about two hours after they arrive, returning with red, swollen eyes that they both can see. Andrea immediately folds him into a hug and they stay that way until the doctor finally returns.

He reports that Carlos’ surgery went well. They repaired his lung along with some other internal damage and set his leg fracture. He’s also got three broken ribs and a concussion, but overall he’s in good shape considering. It could have been much worse.

Somehow that phrase doesn’t feel like a comfort.

Tommy and Nancy leave once Carlos is settled into a room. He’s very out of it, the sedation and heavy pain medication taking a severe toll on his ability to stay awake. He manages a hello to his mom and Owen before lapsing back into sleep again. It’s brief, but it goes a long way toward reassuring them all that he’ll be okay. 

His dad heads out after that to grab some things from the loft so T.K. doesn’t have to spend the entire night in the hospital in his uniform and Andrea decides to go to the chapel for a little bit. T.K. is grateful for the space.

He sits in the chair next to Carlos’ bed, picking at a stray string on the cuff of his shirt. God he fucking hates hospitals. They’ve spent more time inside these walls the last few years than any human should have to. If he never has to come here again it will be too soon.

“T…K.?”

The croak has him snapping his head up to find Carlos struggling to open his eyes, pain lining the tension in his limbs, the darkness of his eyes, the creases of his forehead. He has medication onboard, but it’s like his body still knows how broken it is, even if he can’t fully feel it.

“Hey.” T.K. sits forward and forces a smile that feels like it’s straining his face. “Hey baby.”

Carlos swallows, the pain mixing with confusion in his eyes. “Am I—?”

“You’re okay,” T.K. says. They filled him in the first time he woke up, but it’s clear that it didn’t stick. “You were in an accident. Your lung was collapsed and you have a broken tibia and some ribs, but you’re going to be okay.”

Carlos nods, his eyes closing briefly as if he’s struggling to take it all in. “I’m okay?” Carlos asks, like he’s really not sure.

“Yes,” T.K. says firmly, reaching out to cover the back of his hand. “Yes, you’re okay. It’s going to be a long recovery, but you are okay.”

Carlos’ next breath is shaky and full of tears. “I’m not—I don’t want to leave you.”

God damn it just when he thinks he can’t cry anymore. “You’re not leaving me,” T.K. manages to choke out, squeezing his hand. “You’re not—you’re not dying. I promise baby. I promise.”

“I love you,” Carlos is crying in earnest now, like he has absolutely no control over his emotions. “I love you. I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” T.K. soothes, sliding the chair closer so he can run his hand up and down Carlos’ arm. “There’s no need for sorries.”

“I wasn’t safe.”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Carlos swallows hard like it hurts him to do so. “Do you want some water?” T.K. asks and when Carlos nods he helps him sip a little bit.

When he’s done he licks his lips and meets T.K.’s eyes. “We can turn the thermostat up.”

T.K. chokes out a laugh, his eyes still damp with tears. “I don’t care about the damn thermostat.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Me neither.” T.K. grabs a tissue and uses it to gently wipe the tears from Carlos’ face. “We’ll bring in a neutral third party to deal with the thermostat setting. Paul can do it.”

Now Carlos manages a small huff of a laugh. “And we can use the throw pillows.”

“Thank god,” T.K. says, trying to lighten the mood. “I was ready to sign the divorce papers on that one.” He reaches up and brushes a hand through Carlos’ hair. “And I love your hair. I love all of you. All the time. Any way you are.”

“I love you too.” He shifts a little bit, trying to get more comfortable. “Was my mom here?”

“She’s in the chapel. I think she needed some time to herself,” T.K. says. “My dad was here too. He went to grab us some stuff. If there’s anything particular you want from home I can text him.”’

Carlos shakes his head. “Just you.”

“I’m here,” T.K. says immediately. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Thank you.” Carlos closes his eyes and a shudder runs over his frame.

“Are you cold?” T.K. asks. He knows all too well that blood loss brings on a special type of chill. One that settles into your bones, that you can’t get rid of no matter how hard you try.

“A little,” Carlos says, shivering again and then letting out a small, pained sound as the movement jars his injured body. “Can you…can you hold me? Please?”

He shouldn’t. There’s barely any room in the hospital bed. And Carlos is covered in bandages and IV’s and the cast on his left leg. But honestly, T.K. needs some physical reassurance as much as his husband does right now.

So he carefully maneuvers himself into the bed, moving so slowly that it’s almost painful, tucking himself up against the railing so that his touch against Carlos is practically featherlight. “Why don’t you try and get some sleep,” he says quietly, running his fingers gently over Carlos’ stomach in a soothing motion. 

It always helps Carlos sleep to have his back rubbed, but this will have to do for today. He watches as the tension slips out of his husband’s body, sleep pulling him down and T.K. breathes out. They’ve survived. Again.

[chososchalupa]

wish that it was me

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The last person you wanted to see at this meeting was your older brother. The same brother who left you in the hands of Chuuya Nakahara and the Port Mafia years ago, but all you can see now are the pleading eyes of Osamu Dazai begging for forgiveness.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Chapter seven - Wish that it was me

wc - 1016

cw - none

chapter eight

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The following morning went exactly how you pictured it, Chuuya was in a rush to get to the meeting on time while you weren't even out of your pajamas. 

“Could you please hurry the fuck up?” Chuuya yelled down the hall

You rolled your eyes, not bothering to respond. You weren’t necessarily mad at Chuuya himself but you were mad about everything else and unfortunately for him, you were going to make it everyone else's problem too.

You finished getting ready and walked down the hall to see Chuuya standing by the door with his arms crossed, “About fuckin time” He mumbled before walking out the door with you following behind. 

The two of you arrived just as the meeting was about to begin, you glanced around the room as you entered and just like before, there was no sign of Dazai and luckily for you, there was no sign of Atsushi either. You sighed in relief and took a seat next to Chuuya while you listened to Kunikida begin the meeting. 

The meeting had seemed to go on for hours, you weren't even bothering to listen at this point knowing Chuuya would fill you in once it was over. It wasn’t until you heard the door slowly open that you looked up from your doodling, Atsushi walked into the room with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry I’m late” He spoke towards Kunikida

“It’s fine. Where is Dazai?”

“Oh! Um, he told me to tell you that he wasn’t in the mood for a meeting so he won’t be coming”

Kunikida narrowed his eyes at Atsushi's words before beginning to mumble angrily to himself, “Well,” he began, “This meeting is in regards to a mission that directly involves him so if you don’t mind giving him an update once we finish”

“I’ll fill him in” Chuuya responded, “Gotta go to his house after this anyway”

You glanced at the man beside you with a questioning look but the only response Chuuya gave you was a look that made it clear not to argue or complain.

The meeting finished soon after that and the two of you made your way to the elevator, 

“Hey! Wait up!” Atsushi called as he ran towards the two of you, “If you’re going to Dazais, can I ride along? I figured since we’re all on this mission together it would make sense for us to get there at the same time”

“No” You responded quickly

Chuuya elbowed you in the side as he glanced back at Atsushi, “Sure, come on”

“So not only are you forcing me to go to Osamu's house, I also have to spend my whole day with him?” You complained, glaring at Atsushi.

“Will you cut it out already? I’m really not in the mood today” Chuuya responded, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You didn’t respond as you got into the car waiting for all of you. Once at Dazais, you were more angry than before. Dazai had greeted everyone else while he only offered you a smile and a slight wave, not that you wanted anything more but it still annoyed you for some reason. 

The four of you sat in the living room as Chuuya gave a brief summary of the meeting Dazai had skipped. While they talked, you sat silently looking around the room. Dazai had many framed photos scattered on his walls. Most of them were random pictures of the city or sunsets but there were a few of him with his friends. You recognized a picture of him, Oda, and Ango when they were younger which caused you to smile, you didn’t think he’d keep anything to remind him of his days in the Mafia. You continued studying the photos before you realized, there were none of you two together. The two of you had plenty of photos from childhood and even a few together as teenagers but he didn’t frame a single one. You swallowed hard, glancing down at your hands as you listened to Chuuya and Dazai continue speaking. 

“You okay?” Atsushi asked you, getting the attention of Chuuya and Dazai.

“I’m fine.” You responded, not bothering to look up at him.

Dazai cleared his throat as he glanced at Atsushi, “We should get something to eat before we go. Atsushi, how about you help me find something in the kitchen?”

Atsushi nodded, although he was clearly confused. 

Once they left, Chuuya looked at you and then around the room. “None from the past, right?”

You pointed at the photo on the wall, “Only one. Him, Oda and Ango.” 

Chuuya chuckled, “Should’ve guessed”

You gave a small smile before standing to get a better look at the other photos, Chuuya watched as you walked around the room before stopping in front of a specific photo. He got up from the couch and stood beside you to see what the photo was.

The photo was of Dazai and Atsushi, Dazai’s arm wrapped around his shoulder while they both had big smiles on their faces as they were laughing while the photo was being taken. 

“He doesn’t have any of us” You whispered to Chuuya, “I wish that it was me. This could’ve been us if he didn’t leave me” 

Chuuya sighed, wrapping his arm around you like Dazai had done with Atsushi in the photo before you, “He had his reasons. You’d understand if you’d hear him out”

“I don’t have to. He made his decision very clear”

And although you thought only Chuuya could hear your words, Atsushi and Dazai stood on the opposite side of the room, having come in to tell you they needed to go to the store but stopped once they heard the two of you talking. 

“We have nothing here” Dazai announced as you two had been in silence for a few moments now, “Chuuya’s coming to the store with me?”

Chuuya turned around with an annoyed expression, “let’s go then, asshole”

Dazai smiled before turning back around to lead Chuuya outside, leaving you and Atsushi sitting in an awkward silence alone.

taglist

@lacunaanonymoused @decaf-nosebleed @till-we-become-monsters

AO3

masterlist

[zeldahime]

Highway to Pail Day 14

[Day 1] [Prev] [Next] @do-it-with-style-events

February 14: A witch's favorite subject in school is spelling.

Anathema Device had always been a very bad speller. That is not quite true, actually: her spelling was not so much "appalling," as her Year 3 teacher Ms Johnson had put it, as three hundred years too late. Attempting to explain this to Ms Johnson went over very poorly, as adults often do not take very kindly to being corrected by eight-year-olds, even if that adult prided herself on being a modern and progressive sort of woman who didn't tell everyone immediately whether or not she's married and whose classes involved rather more guitar than was typical.

Anathema was a quiet and intense child who was usually good at school. It was easy, and she daydreamed her classes away with what she imagined the prophecies that she was mentioned in might be about. Her current favorite idea was that the Four that shalle ryde and the Four that shalle alfo ryde and the Three that sharl ryde the Skye might all be riding horses and unicorns and pegasi that didn't like to be ridden, and the horns and wings were why Deville and Angel were mentioned. Maybe she would get to pet them and feed them apples and get the eleven ryders to leave them alone so they could go back to their horsey lives.

Having bad grades in spelling meant there was a class she wasn't bored to daydreams in, and in Ms Johnson's patronizing dismissal she saw a challenge. After all, Anathema believed she was special and was going to save the world. Unlike every other eight-year-old who read too much and believed this, Anathema had it on authority. And if Anathema was going to defeat the forces of Hell and maybe the Antichrist himself when she was a grown-up, silly old Ms Johnson should be small potatoes.

First, she brought The Book to school. Mum and Dad told her it shouldn't leave the house so that they couldn't lose it, but unlike them, she was very good at remembering where she had put things and so she wasn't worried about forgetting to bring it home. When Ms Johnson called on her to spell a word like "ride" or "diverse" or "make," she would spell it correctly as "ryde," or "diuerse," or "mayk" and then show the Ms Johnson The Book, and she would be vindicated.

Ms Johnson did not call on her in class that day, no matter how urgently she waved her hand to be called upon. And apparently Dad noticed The Book was missing even though it had only been while she was at school and she'd brought it right back, and he took it away for a week as punishment.

Her next idea was to bring in one of the concordances. It was less authoritative and much less interesting than The Book, in her opinion, but Mum and Dad were less likely to notice one of them missing, and Ms Johnson couldn't ignore her forever. Unfortunately for Anathema, she was correct. Ms Johnson ignored her in spelling, even when her hand was raised, but did not ignore her in maths, and asked her for the times tables of seven while she was staring out the window and thinking about whether Elliot the dragon could carry three people, maybe her and Pete and the manne who testeth with a pyn.

Then on Friday, Ms Johnson was absent from school, which was just unfair in Anathema's opinion. How could she defeat her opponent if she didn't even come to school?

Ms Johnson was proving to be large potatoes indeed. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

Over the weekend, Anathema made a plan of attack. First, she would attempt plan A again, trying to get called upon in spelling. If that didn't work, plan B was to go to Ms Johnson with the book after school. If Ms Johnson didn't come to school, Anathema would go to her house with the concordance and show her in front of the whole neighborhood, or at least her husband if she had one of those and her guitar if she didn't, and Ms Johnson would be forced to recognize that Anathema's spelling was actually quite good. Anathema went to the town library to borrow a phone book in preparation, and discovered that "Johnson, Susan" lived at 25 Cherry Lane, and a local atlas also told her that 25 Cherry Lane was on the opposite side of the grocery store near the record shop.

Come Monday, Ms Johnson was absent from school again. So, after school, Anathema skipped dance practice and trotted off to the final battle in the spelling war. Knocking on the door at 25 Cherry Lane carrying a 400-page leatherbound book, she made something of a sight, though due to her height, not one that could be seen from the peephole built into the door. The person who answered was not Ms Johnson, or a husband, or even a guitar, but someone who looked a bit like Ms Johnson with darker hair.

"Hello, dear, how can I help you?" said the woman who wasn't Ms Johnson, and Anathema suddenly felt a bit out of her depth. She took a deep breath and powered through it. She'd come all this way, and this was nothing compared to what she'd have to do to save the world as a grown-up, anyhow.

"Hello ma'am. My name is Anathema Device, how do you do? I'm looking for Ms Johnson so I can show her that my spelling is actually very good and she should teach her class better," Anathema said seriously, hoping to convey to this stranger the gravity of the situation.

Not-Ms-Johnson smiled in that tight way that means they think a child is incredibly funny but don't want to encourage them by laughing. Anathema, who was not joking, was annoyed but thankful that Not-Ms-Johnson didn't simply slam the door in her face.

"Well, my dear Anathema, I'm afraid Jane's been ill this weekend but I can see if she's up to a visit from a student. Come in, I'll get you some tea," Not-Ms-Johnson said, and led Anathema into a little kitchen with a kettle already boiling on the stove. Anathema sat very politely at the table as Not-Ms-Johnson fixed her tea and biscuits, and said "Wait here just a tick" before heading off upstairs to fetch "Jane," which Anathema supposed must be Ms Johnson's actual first name.

She heard a groan and then giggles from upstairs, surrounded on both sides by muffled conversation. Ms Johnson's house was smaller than Anathema's but very cozy, with an oldish landline phone with a rotary dial, like the one her parents had replaced with a new Touch-Tone telephone two years ago, mounted on the wall near the garden door.

When Ms Johnson appeared in the kitchen, hair tied back in a simple knot with a dressing gown over her clothes, Anathema had the concordance ready and immediately began presenting.

"Anathema," Ms Johnson interrupted, "I just wanted to say thank you for coming by, but that I don't want you to catch sick. That's why I didn't go to school! I'll look at your book when I come back, I promise."

Anathema pursed her lips, considered and discarded this, and continued presenting. She didn't think she'd get sick; Agnes hadn't put anything about that in The Book. And this was very important.

Ms Johnson looked at Not-Ms-Johnson a couple times, for some reason, but Anathema ignored it. She was so close to persuading Ms Johnson, she just knew it.

Eventually, Not-Ms-Johnson said in a significant voice, "Jane, I think Anathema's made some good points, don't you? Maybe this is something you can talk to her parents about when you're feeling better?"

Ms Johnson smiled suddenly, and Anathema was glad Not-Ms-Johnson had spoken up. Maybe all she'd needed all along was for a grown-up to be an ally; she'd have to write Not-Ms-Johnson a thank you card, like Mum said it was polite to.

"Oh, you're right, sis," Ms Johnson said. "Anathema, how does that sound? When I feel better and come back to school, we'll talk to your parents about this."

Vindication. It was as close as Anathema had ever come to a grown-up admitting they were wrong about something. She got up and went to shake Ms Johnson's hand. "I'm looking forward to it," she said solemnly. "Thank you for the tea, Ms Johnson and Ms Johnson's sister." She collected her concordance, nodded to them each in turn, and turned as smartly on her heel as any eight-year-old could after she's watched Mary Poppins three times and practiced in the mirror.

When Ms Johnson spoke to her parents, Dad would show her The Book to back up the concordance, and Anathema would finally be recognized as being good at spelling. It was just as destined as if it had been prophesied by Agnes herself.

Author's note:

Poor Anathema is going to be in so much trouble.

So far, all my fills this month have been set in TV-verse, but for this one I went whole hog on the book. Anathema in the book was born in 1970 in the UK and in the TV show was born in 1999 in the US, so two completely different worlds, and writing late 70s UK seemed like more of a challenge and less of an exercise in "oh god I'm old." I'm thinking it's 1979, because Pete's Dragon was released in the UK on December 5, 1978, a full year and a bit after its US release, which I didn't realize until after I wrote the daydream about Elliot and I didn't want to change it.

Ms Johnson is vaguely based on my memories of the teacher in Bridge to Terabithia.

Jane and Susan were both popular names in England and Wales in the 1950s, when the sisters Johnson would have been born. The UK has a fun interactive graph you can play with here.

So many thanks to @patolozka who made this post with all of Agnes's prophesies! It was so much easier to reference than flipping through my copy of the book looking for them.

[theworldvsyoshiko]

I accepted a quest to defend some imperials in a crashing shuttle from waves of attacks until their backup ride could arrive... but it just so happened that I had a normal raid trigger at the exact same time. So the entire map was covered in firefights, which at time involved the local wildlife as they were driven into killing frenzies by stray bullets hitting them.

Overall it was manageable, but:

One of my least favorite places to get shot with a hollow-point bullet.

She probably would've survived if Harriet had been nearby, but unfortunately her battle buddy was Onion, who has 0.15 medical skill. 15% of one point. Kena tried to patch herself up, which might've worked if she hadn't passed out from blood loss.

[searchingforserendipity25]

🗡️ for Daeron

Hi, thank you for the ask Polu! I love fighting headcanons, the more unusual the better.

For Daeron, the craftsman and musician, my strongest HC is that he's very involved in making any kind of instrument he makes use of.

Before archery or skinning knives, his favorite weapon was and always remained the dart. He is an expert in making poisons with a variety of toxicity levels and effects, and his aim is excellent. There are several similarities to wooden flute-making and dart-building; the same principle of breath-control applies.

He is a very good archer, and was involved in the big second-wave gut/fiber works in straining thin strands for strings, post-Cuiviénen (post Míriel's initial development of fiber crafts, too).

A great variety of stringing techniques were developed by the Sindar in this period of time, both musical and for the hunt and defense, especially during the search for lost Thingol.

Beleg Strongbow and Daeron had a long collaboration on the area of making a variety of models, of both kinds of instruments, from which the Strongbow itself was built, or its prototype at least. (Daeron starts and ends the collaboration process with an unfortunate workplace crush) (His thing for archers with ride-or-die mentalities and more heart than wisdom roots deep).

Later on, his knowledge of the potency and chemical/alchemical and magical potential of natural resources for poisons and building materials grows exponentially under Melian's tutelage, to the point that he is unofficially considered one of the most deathly people in Doriath, if he needed to be.

There is his music, too, of course. He does not use it as a weapon; outright violent use of it is very against his principles. And he does not need to use it, as such. Violence implies a lack of skill and reach; Daeron does not need to burst veins with a hummed chord or play the spirits of his enemies into confusion.

Breath-control is his first and best skill. It is enough. The beasts and bandits that try to attack him in his wanderings die very gently, a quick unconsciousness before asphyxiation sets in. Unconsciousness, and then a string's cut, a very strong garrote easily wielded. He's very precise, and very quick. There is barely any blood at all; his hands are always very clean, afterwards.