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featherandferns · 1 month ago

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sugar (fic)

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

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

word count: 18k.

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

Cinnamon Buns

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

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

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

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 Any leftover bakes that they had when the workday was over, or things that were just a smidge out of date by a day or two, you took and offered out.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

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

“I gotta delivery here for y’all.”

“What’s in it?”

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

“Over there, I’d say.”

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

“JJ.”

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

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

“Hey.”

“What’re you doing here?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Baby!”

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

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

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

“Likewise,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, you too, man.”

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

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

“Baby! Can you give us a hand?”

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

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

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

“When we were sixteen,” you reply.

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

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

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

“That’s a shame.”

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

But he is, and you’re glad he is.

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

“Yeah. Just happy, s’all.”

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

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

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

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

“Hey Kie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No time like the present and all that.”

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

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

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

Laughing, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

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

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

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

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

“No, no, he seems…uh, he seems nice.”

“He is nice.”

“I believe it.”

“Well…good.”

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

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

“Really?” you say, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, yeah, no, for sure.”

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

“Ain’t we all?”

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

“Well, I better get going.”

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

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

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

“JJ! Don’t be mean!”

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

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

Salted Chips

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

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

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

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

“Yo!”

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

“You good?”

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

“See what?”

“The birds.”

“What?”

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

“Woah.”

“You see ‘em?”

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

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

“The smoke from the campfire botherin’ you?”

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

“What’s not fair?”

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

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

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

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

Your frown of confusion seems to spur him on.

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

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

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

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

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

Pistachio Pastries

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

“Wake up, sleepy,” Mark murmurs.

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

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

“Sweet.”

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

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

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

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

“Mhm?”

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

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

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

He frowns. “You okay?”

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

“Kinky?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s hard not to deflate completely with disappointment.

Wow, yeah Mark. Kinky.

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Now?”

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

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

“Oh.”

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

Routine with scheduled sex.

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

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

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

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

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

Yes.

“Hey.”

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

“JJ.”

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s busy today, helping his mom.”

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

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

“I’m not doing much. Why not?”

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.”

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

“Morning Mr Parker,” you call.

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

“Good to see you, sir,” JJ nods.

“What you got for me today?”

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

“Pastries?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I think I’ve earnt a break.”

“You’ve been here less than an hour.”

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

“JJ, you’re not supposed to eat the–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re cute when you’re high.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Funny how?”

“That you’d go from me to him.”

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

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

“Exactly…”

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

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

Funnily enough, that does little to cheer you up.

Croissants

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

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

“What about them?”

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

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

“Still. Tell me anyway.”

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

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

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

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

“What happened?”

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

“Do you know who Andy Warhol is?”

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

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

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

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

“What about him?” JJ asks.

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

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

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

“To Paris, in France,” you whisper.

“She go to the Eiffel Tower?”

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

“Like the Catacombs?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, you’re so…Fuck…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“P-please.”

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

“Yeah, you like that, huh?”

“Fuck…”

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

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

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

Smores

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

Yep. That’s all.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Leave my marshmallow alone.”

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

“Says who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys got any more beers?”

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

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

“Holy shit!”

“Sorry!”

“What the fuck, man?” you laugh.

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

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

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

“The H.M.S?”

“Nah, the new one,” JJ answers.

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

“Pretty sweet, huh?”

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

“Yeah? You miss the marsh?”

“I miss it all,” you quietly confess.

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

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

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

“What’d you mean, ‘you miss it all’?”

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

“Same is good.”

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

“Well–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t,” you warn.

“What?” he chuckles.

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

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

“What?” you giggle, eyeing him.

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

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

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

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

“Or that time–”

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

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

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

“He seems like a nice guy.”

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

“What’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to show you?”

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

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

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

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

Until you’re not.

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

Guilt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mark.

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

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

Cheap White Wine

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey. Can I join?” you wonder.

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

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

“Like sexy ones?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? What’s your dream?”

“I want to start a kitchen.”

“Huh?”

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

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

“Thanks.”

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

You were falling in love with JJ Maybank.

Biscuits

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

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

Fuck.

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

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

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

“Stop it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I’m here to take care of you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Chocolate Chip Cookies

“I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Distance?”

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

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

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

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

“You know when you see a tornado?”

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

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

JJ nods again, pursing his lips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ham and Cheese Sandwiches

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

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

“You sure? I don’t mind helping.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You good? Hey!”

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

“Wait…Really?”

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

“Excuse me?”

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

“I-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘I’m here to catch you.’

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

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

Cinnamon Buns

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you wanted to feel alive.

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

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

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

“Hey!” he grins.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay,” Mark faintly replies.

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

“You did?”

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

“Mark–”

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

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

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

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

“You’re too pretty to hate.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bacon Sandwiches

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

“Need a hand?”

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

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

“Sure. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

“A’right. What about?”

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

“Mean what?” he mumbles.

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

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

“You mean it?”

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

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

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

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

"I love you too."

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dragon-business · 1 year ago

Text

Goromi dates (yes, plural)

First date with Goromi was Majima overcompensating after bowling with Kiryu. Nishida simply offered to find a setting that would be more comfortable for Majima and a little less comfortable for Kiryu, and Majima went all out.

Nishida: So what's gonna be comfortable for you, boss? Majima: I catch your drift, yeah, let's order a dress!

Here you can read the rggo story, where Majima worked in SHINE as Goromi for a while before the first date!

Here is the comic prequel to the second date.

And let's roll~

- So, for the second date Majima should wear a short slim black dress with an open back and long blond hair loose, so it covers the tattoo, but can be swept over the shoulder at the right time. Considering that we only see yakuza back tattoos before veeeery serious fights this is a bit of playing with danger there. Majima can put the hair over his shoulder when it's time.

Also he has a silver chain on his neck. Maybe gloves can stay on, too! The dress is black or dark blue, velvety to the touch, turtleneck top, sleeves to the elbow. Makeup is very subdued, just an evening look with a touch of red lipstick.

Kiryu will have so many compliments, Goromi better hold on to the couch and her champagne.

- Judging by the glasses Goromi ordered something very strong on the first date. All of it was prep for the fight, so yeah, it was no champagne. But this new meeting is classy, so gotta go all out. Bringing out champagne, cheesecake and idk. They have pretty trashy snacks at this club. Majima will have to look into that afterwards.

Clientele is not so sophisticated there, usually. Kiryu isn't that sophisticated either. But it's the principle! Also it's a special occasion, because it's Kiryu visiting. Again. So Majima might be overpreparing now.

(Remembering the fact that Kiryu thought Majima doesn't eat fast food, only stuff from fancy restaurants)

And while Majima waits for Kiryu, the manager of SHINE is somewhere out there in Kamurocho, sweating on the quest to find vinegar. It's tradition. All managers go through vinegar baptism. And also Majima mumbling "oh, back in my time…" is very endearing.

Majima, tipping wine glass, trying to play it cool in front of Kiryu: Manager, still sweating: *stands on one knee to put freshly made onigiri and curry on the table*

All of this because Kiryu said he wants to learn more about running a cabare club. So here's a trip to the past, so interesting. And Goromi can talk about it for ages.

(And yes, Majima brought his own vinegar. He knew the manager (oh, the poor manager) will not find it.)

- (The date itself includes the love meter boss fight. Both of them have this meters and each is half of monitor in length.)

- "What's your fun opening story to break the ice on dates, Kiryu-chan?" asks Majima not realising yet what he's about to bring on himself.

Kiryu, scratching his head, trying to quickly remember any fun stories: Logic (medium: failure): the ones you shared on the radio back in the day must be safe.

So Kiryu spins the tale about the dominatrix sidestory, finishing with a kiler: -and then I watched their session, hahah. Goromi: …and how, pray tell, you gained all this BDSM knowledge? Kiryu: it's just common sense?

He's full of mysteries. And likes to watch. Goromi is bluescreening hard. This whole thing is already backfiring. On everyone in a mile radius (yes, of course all of SHINE personnel is listening in).

Honestly, talks with Mana prepared Majima for this. But just imagine Kiryu asking Goromi with a straight (hehe) face if he's an S or an M. Or, more likely, if Goromi would rather work at a BDSM club or visit it. Or is she more of a casual street session enjoyer?

Logic (heroic: failure) in the voice of Baccus: you are nailing the casual conversation here, my boy 👌👌👌👌👉👉 Empathy (formidable: success): he will be impressed with your knowledge 😌😌😌

(Dang, Mana. She managed to catch Majima by surprise and he answered honestly. Oh, Kiryu's big honest eyes with one braincell shining through)

Goromi has 3 options:

X attack by attack Y answer honestly B "no you" card

Asking Kiryu about his preferences puts him in deep and serious thought. If he'll answer honestly… about figuring it out by trying, and learning through observation, and having a good feeling when it's clear that the other person is enjoying themselves… Murder. It will be straight up murder.

"Goromi-san, you must really like this champagne! You just downed a whole bottle in one go."

- Kiryu: Are you enjoying our fights, Goromi-san? Logic: you gotta make sure 👌

Majima-san always made sure to ask for consent in their fights! Kiryu should also be responsible. What if he can do better?

It was already straight up murder when on the first date after Majima's rant about strong men and fighting Kiryu asked (in a suave gentleman voice): "Want me to fight you?"

"You like strong men? I'm a strong man. Just saying."

But yeah, back to the point, this was actually bothering Kiryu, he even ranted to Tanaka about it. Clear communication is the key, so if Goromi-san thinks there are things Kiryu can do differently or try harder with… does he know enough moves, what if the same routine gets boring?

Majima enjoys fights with strong men >> logic happening >> Majima's enjoyment is the goal.

Kiryu is clearly getting stronger from the Majima Everywhere system. And Majima is doing it, because he enjoys it. So they both should get equal benefits from what's going on.

Kiryu is a good learner. Maybe he should do more leg over the shoulder throws? Should he still grab Majima's collar from the front? He breaks free from it so easy, but what if it's about trying, about the resistance?

All of this is happening directly after BDSM talk, of course. Kiryu finally found a good segway to talk about it all, he's on the roll.

He's winning this social interaction 👏👏

More champagne for the lady, please. This is a serious topic, Kiryu is willing to pay. It's a second extension too, Kiryu is gonna be here for a while.

- And yeah, Kiryu is talking with Goromi without thinking much, just talking.

Majima accidentally did a lot for him there, by coming up with this date idea (for himself too, but that's another story). Still thinking about Goromi jokingly telling Kiryu "Just don't fall for me", and Kiryu looking at him intensely and going "I dunno. Love can be unpredictable."

Kiryu, apart from being autistic, was raised in an orphanage and in the hyper masculine world of yakuza, with two extremely emotionally repressed men as father figures. He clearly has a lot of trouble admitting his feelings out loud, and knowing the appropriate time to do so. It seems that his way of masking (and generally surviving) is seeing different human interactions as a set of scenarios with set rules and decorations. Like, "the date", "talk with a passerby", "at the bar" and so on. And they help Kiryu with social interactions, sure, but also are quite rigid sometimes, and lock him in a sad and lonely place where he can't really connect to people, because there's not enough nuance in the script and no tolerance for sentimentality in the world Kiryu's building this scripts from.

So, coming from this angle, you can see how on a date with Goromi the scenarios clash.

According to the rules, two men can't really be super open or emotional with each other, or admit interest in each other. But now this is "just a man and a hostess, enjoying drinks together". And normally Kiryu would have 0 interest in being open or flirty with a hostess, he just goes through the motions that you're supposed to do, and is a bit clueless even. But now it's Goromi. It's Majima. It's someone he knows and cares about. Someone with whom he can say all the right things he's supposed to say and it will be true! Incredible. Mind-blowing.

(Later Rina will blow Kiryu's mind even more with "you know you can date men, when you're a man, right")

Majima, putting on stockings: heheheh, yeah, this will immediately prompt a fight :3c Kiryu, sitting with Goromi, moved to the core: this is the best moment of my life, feeling so good right now, can we do this forever please-

- And a note for Majima's POV: on the first date he was ready to go right away, but then Kiryu said with no-objection tone "No. We're just a man and a hostess, enjoying drinks together." And I bet Majima went along with it partially because his little BDSM tendencies rose up to the direct order.

It's one thing to defy or follow orders of your yakuza superiors, which are frankly very tiresome and are mostly bullshit power plays. As we've seen in the Majima saga he is really tired of it all. But an order put in unexpectedly (very expectedly) queer conditions, by a person he's attracted to? Ohwell.

So he complied. On his terms, sure, but he did. Unexpectedly locked on the route of exploring the Goromi side of himself too.

So there's a lot going on on this little date. So many things. And the second one were all of this is hammered home even more is very close to our hearts.

Majima: Pew, hope he will never find out about my sudden dirty thoughts. Almost embarrassed myself there. You're walking a dangerous line there, Goro. Thankfully, Kiryu-chan is not a person to dwell on kink topics. Kiryu: So, about BDSM… Majima: Well! Too bad Kiryu is straight! Ha ha. Ha.

Majima has his own fun little mini-game of finding explanations.

But what is an explanation, when the second date the tiny clasp on the Goromi's heels comes undone. And it sits at an awkward angle, making it hard for her to fix. And Kiryu steps around the table, goes on one knee like "Allow me to help, please", and waits for an answer.

Ambulance needed, person injured themselves with mental gymnastics.

And after fixing the clasp Kiryu holds Goromi's ankle carefully for a just fraction of a second longer than needed.

Explanation for all this will need some serious thought. And this specific moment? Well it's going in the box. And the box is going in the vault. And then under the safety hat.

There's a serious turnaround about this whole thing in Majima's head, he's comparing Kiryu's behavior towards Goromi with how he got along with cabare girls himself.

Majima was more or less gallant with them, too, and often helped them with clothes, makeup, shoes and whatnot. So, obviously Kiryu feels okay helping with the shoes, because he's not attracted to Goromi/Majima! Case solved.

Meanwhile, Kiryu, when random girls flirt with him: let's not go there. Kiryu when Goromi: I will absolutely go there the first chance I have.

Blunt as a rock.

Cabare girls are sideeyeing Kiryu working on Goromi's clasp, holding their breath. Better than any tv show.

- Goromi, clinking her glass on the bottle: Where's my champagne? Your quite slow today, Kiryu-chan, what about being a gentleman. Kiryu, staring at Goromi's sholderblade where the tattoo is barely visible through the cascade of hair: Uhuh.

There's something about the tattoo being partially covered but still visible. Also it's quite a beautiful tattoo. Kiryu has only seen glimpses of it by that point, and not from this close. And even later, after their "final" fight, it's still not the same as looking at it up close in calm circumstances. Can't really stare during fights, or, after seeing Hannya Man's smile, you'll immediately see the ceiling.

This is actually an additional difficulty level for their battles. Kiryu is a curious creature, he wants to see the snakes up close.

– before / navigation / next

#kazumaji #kiryu kazuma #goro majima #rgg kiwami #yakuza #this is canon now #goromi is very special to us #<3 #for kiryu too

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epitomees · 1 year ago

Note

M!A chie now has to eat mystery food x curry or else she'll never leave!

Not this charade again...

"Alright, now LISTEN HERE! Just because me and Yukiko messed up our camping curry THE ONE TIME doesn't mean any of you grey-faced people or other pests have to keep prodding her or teasing me about it!" How was she supposed to know mint and garlic never mixed well?! Or milk and gravy! If it was comprised of the same texture, it should taste good!

It was all overexaggerated anyway. The boys remained...alive and kicking after tasting their concoction, so it wasn't like anyone died that night. Just a few upset stomachs! "But since some of you are soooooooo determined to never let me forget that incident, then FINE! C'mon then! Bring me a fresh plate of that so-called 'Mystery Food X'."

That's if they can perfectly replicate it.

#ic #Chie #anon #M!A : Bad Choices Are Made #Better Days - Post P4 Verse #((can her iron clad bottomless stomach survive is the question!))

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echantedtoon · 1 year ago

Text

A Champion Time For The Heart Ch9 Travels To Hulbury

(This chapter will contain a small time skip of events as well as a past fight between y/n and her mother in the story.)

You swore you needed both a doctor and a nice bed to sleep away the pains of soreness racking your body.

Ever since you four left Turffield it had been like the time you left Motostoke except a bit longer. Walking, camping at night, taking time out for resting between walks and gathering food. Mostly from berry trees or snacking from whatever nonperishable foods Leon had given you. Some night Victor managed to make one form of curry or another. Mostly bean or apple curry which you didn't mind too much but the apples tasted a bit strange in the curry sauce, so you fed them to your sobble which you noticed had now taken a habit of laying in your lap any chance you were sitting and expected to be fed whenever you held any kind of food. Oops. You might have ended up spoiling it a bit. Oh well. You didn't mind too much. It's smiles and noises were pretty cute, and at least Gloria was able to add a few more curry entries to her book. After what had happened at the pokemon Nursery back in Truffield you decided to fill in Gloria and Hop about the mysterious band of rock star wannabes, but they seemed to be as confused as you were about who they might've been working for and who they were. Hop even suggested that maybe the eccentric costumes were disguises to they're real identities, which seemed a bit farfetched but hey. You were transported into the video game world of pokemon, traveling along with a few of the characters, and for all you knew could still wake up at any moment to your mother scolding you for being late for college. It wasn't really too out there to rule out yet. While you four traveled every so often you'd rest and Hop and Gloria would scamper off to have a battle or more likely try to catch some new pokemon from where you were at. So you weren't all too surprised to find out Gloria caught herself a wild Dottler and Hop's Grookey evolving from the....seventh or eighth day now as you four traveled. You lost count or couldn't remember how many days had past after seven or eight. You were mostly tired now a days with a heaping dab of soreness in your back and neck from your uneasy sleeping schedule and the rocky ground poking you from the floor of the test. Or the fact the only thing you had for a pillow was your backpack, but you never complained. If it meant getting to Hulbury faster then you could deal with it. It was like when your mother insisted you stay up a few extra hours to study or when you had to work late at the radio station after that. You yawned more, movements slowing a bit, and you had gotten noticeable bags under your eyes. Buuut the three teens must've noticed because on what was the ninth day Gloria decided to point it out to you.

"Hey, Y/n. I really didn't want to say anything but are you feeling ok?" She pointed at your face. "You've been yawnin' ever since we left Turffield like a week ago. And you've gotten bags under your eyes big enough to carry luggage for a full week's vacation. "

In response you yawned again before looking to her. "M' fine. Jus a bit tired I guess." You stretched out your back as you walked making it pop. "Haven't really gotten much sleep just laying on the ground like a rock."

"Hey. I have good news." Victor all of a sudden held up his phone. When did he pull that out? And held it up to all of you. "There's a small town up ahead about another day's walk. It has a convenience store, hotel, and a few other things." He looked at you. "I think we should stop by. We can restock up on supplies and rest for the night at the hotel. That might help out Y/n's situation and prevent her from dropping from exhaustion anytime soon."

"Hey. I-I'm not that tired," you lied stifling another yawn....But the promise of a bed tho- "But you're right about needing some more supplies. I don't know how much food and necessities we have left, and it wouldn't be a bad idea to stop by and restock."

The food Leon lent would only last so long anyways. It was best for all parties involved. So it was decided the four of you would stop by the upcoming small town. It took another day and night of walking and resting (giving you another night of uncomfortable sleep) and then shoving off he next morning for the town. It took half the day but the four of you managed to happen upon the small town. And you do mean small. It couldn't have been much bigger than Postwick actually. There was around maybe twenty buildings and most of them were homes or doubled as homes as well as stores. As the four of you walked through the small town a few people walked by or waved, and you could hear a few children laughing. It certainly was very peaceful wasn't it? The peace made you even more tired- You were shaken awake when your sobble chirped loudly and smacked you with it's tail, making you stumble as you walk and if it weren't for the two boys catching you you would've faceplanted the road again. Which ended up in the three kids making up a decision for you.

"Let's go find the Inn first."

The inn turns out was one of the first buildings you came across when you took the small side road off of Route 5 here and the only building in the town that had three stories. It was more like a tall house than an Inn when the three of you entered, Gloria helping to steady your sleepy self. The inside looked very similar to Professor Magnolia's house. Very homey and welcoming. The elderly lady looked lightly surprised when the four of you came in with you fighting to keep awake for a little longer. Ok. So maybe the little sleep over nine or ten days was starting to get to you a little bit you haven't been this tired since studying for college entry exams in high school.

"Oh my. Are you children alright?," she ended up asking lightly standing from her seat seeing you lightly sway a bit.

You waved her off. "I'm fine. Just really tired."

"We'd like to book two rooms please with double beds," Victor explained to the lady throwing you a worried look. "Do you have any available?"

"Oh. Yes, we do. Come. I'll show you to your rooms. By the looks of your friend there, she's in dire need of a good rest." Whelp. No argument there. Luckily the rooms she had the four of you follow her towards a long hallway a little aways from the front desk before stopping and opening one door. "Here's the young mens. Bathroom's through the door on the left. And as for the two young ladies." She turned to a door right across from Hop and Victor's room and opened it. The room was pretty much as you suspected. A simple large room with two beds on each side of it, a shelf, window looking out onto a field, Tv, and a white door that you supposed led to a closet. "This'll be yours." She pointed at the door. "The bathroom is through there. We also have a laundry mat attachment in the adjacent building to the left if you youngsters need it. If you have any further questions please don't hesitate to ask."

"Uh yes actually. Do you happen to know where your town's convenience store is?,'' you heard Victor ask but you were too busy to deduce what else was said.

You managed to stay awake enough to take a quick shower and change before walking to the closest bed to you and just flopping face first on it. The soft cushions hugging your tired and sore body, and it was natural for you to fall asleep almost as soon as you hit the mattress. So it was no wonder that by the next time you woke up it was night time. Confused and dazed you managed to sit up blinking confused at the darkness around you, the only source of light coming from the moon shining through the window outside. Vaguely in the dark you could just barely make out Gloria's sleeping form on the other bed on the other side of the room. Her baby toxel at the foot of her bed. Your body was still tired with it being night so it was easy for you to fall back into slumber when you slowly laid your tired self back down, barely registering your sobble squirming next to you as you fell back asleep. And came to a strange sight. A sight you witnessed before in your life. One you were all too familiar with too. ....You...You were back in your room. Well a younger you at least. You were about sixteen then just minding your own business sitting there and playing games. Couldn't remember which one just that you were enjoying yourself playing and sitting on your bed playing the day away. Until younger you looked up at footsteps approached your room, the next thing your younger self knew your door flew open with a bang and it started the younger you so much you ended up dropping your old switch on your bed jumping from the sound. And there she was. Your mother standing there with an angry scowl on her face.

"You're playing those stupid games again!?," she snapped at younger you, stomping over and quickly wrenching the switch from your bed.

In an instant your hand was reaching out for it. "HEY! Give that back."

But instead of that, your mother only held it up higher with her angry face. "Is THIS what I work to provide for you!?"

You had stopped. Frozen in surprise at the words foaming at your mother's mouth and the game she waved at your face.

"Is THIS what you think is fair to me!? I work day and night to provide a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and clean running water for all you do is to sit on your behind and play these mind rotting things!? To make the electricity bill higher than Mount Everest with you staying up all night playing this day in and out!?"

"M-Mom! C'mon! I'm sorry," younger you backpaddled.

"You should be! I'm not raising you to be lazy and unresponsible!" The game was tossed back onto the bed with a small thump before she pointed at you. "Work and studies should be your number one priority right now! I don't want to catch you slacking off wasting time again! Do I make myself clear?"

Younger you looked at your mother's angry face for a long moment before looking away and nodding. "Yes, Mom."

"That's good. Make sure it doesn't happen again. Alright, Y/n?"

.....

...........

"Hey, Y/n!," a distant girl's voice called, "Are you awake?"

"I dunno. Maybe we should just let her sleep? She was really tired when we got here yesterday," a young boy's voice said worried.

"Hop's gotta point, Glory. Let her sleep in. She'll need all the rest she can get for traveling."

"Ah. You guys are no fun."

Silently the world of younger days faded away to black and the voices became murmurs in the dark abyss that was sleep until you finally woke up from your now dreamless slumber. Which wasn't too long. You slowly woke from your sleep and was greeted with the sunlight making your tired eyes blink as you rubbed them and blinked at the surroundings around yourself at the simple room that wasn't your younger self's from the dream. What the-....Where were you? Did you finally wake up from the pokemon world dreamland you formed up? Were you back home? Did you move into the college dorms and forgot you did? Is that why this room looked strange to you? That hope was all but dashed in a moment when movement under the blanket next to you caught your attention and you looked. A small lump under the blanket the size of a small cat moved around until it moved towards the end of it near your arm and your sobble poked it's head out blinking tiredly and gave out a yawn crawling the rest of the way out. You gave a sigh, shaking your head before smiling and holding out your arm and letting the sobble crawl into your hands. You were still tired but rather than go back to sleep, you opted to tossing the blanket off yourself and got up with your sobble in your hands holding him up to your face.

"Well, I guess it's time to start the day huh?"

You managed to get a few things done. Morning shower, got dressed, and made your first stop the laundry mat across from the hotel after asking the elderly woman at the front desk for directions. Just something to do to help take your mind off the strange dream that had happened. You had started to wonder where the three children had run off to now but it was only after you were coming back with your now cleaned clothes and your sobble curled upon your shoulders did you run into them. Or Hop at least. He was just walking past the door when you opened it and almost ran into him. Thankfully stopping at just the right moment as he paused and blinked.

"Oh. Hey, Y/n!," he greeted with a smiling and shifting the box in his hands, "Glad to see you're awake now."

"Hi," you greeted back before raising a brow at the box he held. "What's that you're carrying?"

"Oh this?," he asked holding up the box and you nodded. "The old lady needed help clearing out her old storage room. She offered to pay me to help out so Im taking this to the broom closet down the hall here. Glory and Vick are doing some Pokejobs too." The confusion must've doubled on your face because he seemed to take notice. pokejobs?? What the heck are pokejobs?! "OH! Right. There's no possible way you could've known what those are. I keep forgetting you're not native to Galar. Pokejobs are jobs people upload into the rotomis."

".....Say what?," you asked still totally confused to what Hop was even saying.

He sighed. "Pokejobs. How do I describe them?....It's kinda like how newspapers have ads. If someone has a job they need help with they send a post to their rotomi profile, then if someone wants to make some money they can look on the Pokejobs Rotomi Forum for a job in their specific area. There was a few listed in the Rotomi at the town's covience store." He held up the box again. "Like this one. We figured it wouldn't hurt to make a little bit of money in case of emergencies too."

"That...sounds like a great idea. But where are the other two now?"

He shrugged. "Glory took a job that involved babysitting and I think Victor's helping someone here with a garden."

Well that sounded like a good way to earn a bit of money while you were waiting. As to pass the time you decided to help Hop once you had finished returning your clothes to your bag. The elderly woman seemed rather grateful for the help provided. In the manner of speaking it wasn't too difficult work. Most of the boxes were pretty light mostly filled with cleaning supplies or old blankets. That explains why she was having Hop move them to the big supply closet down the hall. When you asked about it she explained she had wanted to turn it into another bedroom for the busier traveling seasons, makes sense. One extra room to rent means one extra way to make some money. You helped rehome the boxes and cleaned it out by dusting and sweeping to pass the time away. When it came to paying you declined the money offered and made sure Hop received it instead. After all it was originally his job, you just helped to pass time, and it'd be wrong to piggyback on his hard earned money after all. But you did however accept the free room service for later when she offered instead. Free food was a reward you had no trouble accepting, especially considering you hadn't eaten anything since you woke up and all the exercise you had done in helping to clean out the room. Hop though was thankful for your help and expressed so as much. It was when the two of you were heading out did you finally bump into said twins. Gloria was carrying two large paper bags but you had to do a double take when you noticed Victor looked....well remember how dirty you were after being bowled over by Milo's wooloo? Victor looked like he got ran over by ten wooloo during a sand storm.

"Whoa. What happened to you?"

He grabbed his hat and shook the grey beanie out letting dirt fall to the ground. "Well. As it turns out the ad for 'helping to remove unwanted weeds and debry from the garden' also happened to include a wild munchlax who didn't want to leave. I had to half wrestle half chase the thing out."

"Oh wow. Glad to see you got paid tho."

He huffed but Gloria smiled holding up the bags in her hands. "But on the bright side we managed to stock up enough for the rest of our trip to Hulbury! Glad to see you're up and feeling better too, Y/n!"

You nodded. "Yeah. Feeling better thanks-"

"OH! That reminds me!" You were cut off when Gloria suddenly shoved one of the bags into your arms as you blinked. The inside held food and other things you'd have to use in order to get to Hulbury. She went digging through the other bag, eventually pulling out a rolled up, sleeping bag looking thing that must've made up half that bag's weight. "Here! I noticed you probably weren't sleeping well cuz you didn't have one of these here. Turns out the convivence store is also a supply store, so I was able to get you one of these."

You slowly took the rolled up sleeping bag from Gloria and gave it a look over before looking back to her. "I-...Thank you. But you didn't have to get me this. I would've been fine without it."

"I know but you would've just kept getting bad sleep if I didn't, and it won't hurt me from what I earned from winning against Milo's anyways. Besides, I can now call it even from when you saved our hides back in Postwick."

You smiled and decided to accept this gift with a nod. "Alright. We're even. But have you decided when you wanted to leave yet?"

"First thing tomorrow morning. After seeing you stumble 'round like a zombie with a headache, we decided to let ya sleep in since you were so tired. But since it's getting later anyways, we figured we'd spend one more night here and leave early in the morning."

"Oh that's a great plan cuz Y/n got us some free room service from helpin' out around here."

Gloria's eyes widened at her friend's words. "Wait. REALLY!?"

"How about we let Victor get cleaned up first before we do anything?"

The four of you did just that for the night. Packed away all the goods they brought back with them. Hopefully it'll last enough for the rest of the very long walk to Hulbury. And after everyone was done packing their share and Victor was cleaned up, you ate. No surprise it was more curry but you chose to accept that at this point that curry was a very important part of Galar's culture and hey. Free food was free food. Nothing to complain about here. And if Gloria could fill in more of her Curry Dex book then it was good enough for you too. Luckily it seemed with the new sleeping bag things might get easier for you when you all start traveling again. Which is exactly what happened. The very next morning the four of you set off as soon as Victor paid for the two day stay at the front desk, and it was back onto Route 5 the four of you went walking. And walking and walking. It was basically the same as before until night came and the four of you set up camp in a small clearing, giving you the chance to use the new sleeping bag Gloria had gotten you. And it worked like a charm. You still had to use your arms as a pillow but otherwise it was much more comfortable to sleep now. And then the next day the four of you were at it again. This time listening to Victor's adventures traveling around since he had started his own journey at least a year before Gloria's. Mentioning of all the different places and events around Galar he had been so far and you were impressed at his tales of capturing so many wild shiny pokemon in his photos, going so far to show you all a few places he took photos of. One being the giant clock tower back in Motostoke.

"So does that mean you've been to Halbury before?," you asked curiously glancing at the pictures in his hands.

He nodded. "I've been there once, but not for long. I did see the Hulbury Water-Type Aquarium and Research Center. They have every water type pokemon you could imagine, some of them are from different regions as well. That's where I got most of the photo's of water type pokemon I gave to Glory. Nessa was a huge sponsor for it's development. It's also a research department to study water-types as well as their environments and biology." He hummed and looked up. "I think it's also where most Professors get their sobbles for starting trainers."

You gave a look to your sobble. "You hear that? Looks like we're heading to your home town." In response it smiled and gave a small chirp. "Does that mean you've seen Nessa before?"

He shook his with a sigh as you all walked. "Sadly no. But I've heard she's so busy between her modeling and gym leader duties she'll only do one gym battle a day due to her busy schedules, and that's considering if there's nothing important going on for her."

"So depending on the time and amount of trainers heading for Hulbury right now, we could end up waiting longer than we did for Milo's gym battle."

"Ah man!" Hop leaned back putting both arms behind his head. A habit you learnt he did whenever he was annoyed or thinking about something. "That could take forever then....but considering Nessa's Gym would've been one of the farthest from the Turffield Stadium, I'd like to bet not a lot of people would go for hers first and instead went back to Motostoke to challenge Kabu or someone else who was closer....Hm. I wonder if that's why Mr. Milo suggested we go see Nessa after our battle with him. We haven't run into any other Gym Challengers yet. Route 5 is less trafficked."

"Or those rockstar blokes," you thought as you gave another look around at the half field half forested areas you four were traveling past. But that was probably a good thing you hadn't seen them. You wouldn't want them causing you more trouble.

"There Hop goes all smart again!"

"H-Hey! Im just makin' an observation!"

"Well make an observation on that map. How much longer until we get there?"

Hop answered that after pulling out his phone and turning it on, pressing a few buttons. "...About two and a half weeks left."

This...Was going to be a long trip.

And you weren't wrong. Most of the trip was the same day in and day out. Eat, sleep, make camp, walk lots, stop for breaks, maybe a battle would happen every once and a while between Hop and Gloria or maybe they'd try to catch a pokemon every now and then. And you watched her start to carry around that baby Toxel more, usually in her arms like a cat but sometimes in her bag too with his little head poking out looking around. Victor making the comment that now the both of you would be pokemon taxis. It took quite a while of this old routine before you four even got to another town, with a train station. Breaking out of a small wooded area there was clearings now of flat land and Route 5 lead you all to a crossing across the railroad tracks and lead into a small town...Well you weren't sure if you could call it a town per say. It was more like a few homes a little bit a ways from the obvious train station the four of you took refuge in for a break. In the mean time Victor took out his phone once more and decided to flip through the rotom phone he had on your four's location.

"......Hey!," he shouted making you all look at him as he held up the phone all towards you. You leaned closer to get a better look at the screen he pointed to. "According to the map we're a four day walk away from Hulbury. Nearly there!"

"Oh thank Arceus!," Gloria sighed, "I was getting so tired of just walking around like a migrating murkrow."

"And you wonder why I was worried about you rushing into your journey."

"Hey!"

The next few days weren't very eventful or memorable. Just the same rinse and repeat scenarios your small group had been experiencing for the past month or so, until you FINALLY saw it. Well smelt it first would be more accurate. You all were walking up a steep hill that the path was connected too and that's when you smelt something like salt air. You had only been to a beach a few times but there was no mistaking it. Saltwater. And then you heard a very loud horn. It was loud enough to startle your Sobble into ducking behind your head and you perk up. If one had to guess, you would've said it sounded either like a train's whistle or a boat horn. Blinking as shadows flew overheard, you realized they were wild wingulls. ...Wait. Weren't those bird pokemon always like close to water?? You blinked. Shaking your head and hurrying your pace up the hill until the four of you finally made it. From the high point the view was high enough to let the four of you look a good ways ahead and still far but much closer now, maybe a day's travel. What was unmistakenly the glistening blue of the ocean as far on the horizon as you could see, that lead to the coast that clashed with the beginnings of it. The horn you heard was most likely one of the many boats you could faintly make out on the glistening blue and the unmistakable town that was nestled up against it all. It wasn't too big by the looks of it. Definately not Motostoke size, but it was definately bigger than Turffield and Postwick and you could make out the unmistakable structure of a stadium way over there.

Victor pointed with a smile towards the faint town. "There's Hulbury! We're nearly there!"

"Good. Let's get stepping before it gets too dark. If we hurry we'll be there by tomorrow."

And indeed you all were. Traveling until it was sundown, and you decided to set up camp for the night, only to pack up quickly and leave at the first sign of light the very next morning. It was somewhere around ten in the morning when you all finally made it. Seeing the town and beautiful ocean coming into view and getting closer, and closer the more and more you walked. Until you all finally arrived. First walking under a bridge connecting between two large hills, on top of one hill leading to a train station, the familiar pink building of the pokemon center greeted you next as the dirt path of Route 5 changed into concrete streets. Another loud horn shot off to the right of you and as you all looked over there was a giant port with as you suspected lots of ships and boats. Bigger than in game you imagined too. You inhaled a long sigh, the taste of salt on your tongue. If it wasn't for the many boats near the port and other people, you wouldn't have minded just standing there for a moment in the road. But since you didn't want to waste anymore time you sighed and turned to Gloria.

"So." She looked at you and blinked. "What's the plan here?"

"We go to the gym-"

"We head to the hotel-"

Both twins looked at each other for a moment, before Victor cleared his throat.

"I think we should head to the Hulbury's residential hotel first. Just in case one of us have to wait for a gym battle to open we'd have somewhere to stay tonight."

"Well I think we should head to the gym before anyone else gets here," she countered back one arm holding her Toxel and the other placed onto her hip. "It's still pretty early in the morning. If there's a chance no one got there yet one of us could get a spot! Right Hop?"

"Actually, personally I'm kinda hungry and wanted to check out that famous restaurant Hulbury's supposed to have." he mumbled but got ignored by the scowling twins.

You sighed again shaking your head. Teenagers. "How about this?" You held up a hand catching the three's attention. "We'll split up." You suggested. "If we do that we can get things done faster. You two can check out the gym and your brother can get us situated for the night because personally I'd like to take a break from camping, and then Victor can check into the gym as well. Then we can meet back up and get some breakfast..." You looked up towards the sky. "Or lunch depending when we're done."

Victor hummed. "...That doesn't sound like a bad idea actually and it could actually save us time. Now that I think about it, we're probably low on supplies anyways. While we're doing that Y/N can take a list of what we need and get it from the local super market here."

"I like that plan! We can meet up at the Light house."

And so it was agreed. After going through your inventory, and having Victor quickly scribble down a list of things you all needed, the four of you split off. Victor heading in the same direction as the other two with his phone's map out (you guessed the hotel and the stadium must've been down the same road) and you towards the docks list and borrowed money in hand. In all honestly you were just as hungry as the others but that could wait. It didn't take you too long to find Hulbury's local convenience store, it didn't take you all long as well to fill up the considerably large bags of travel foods and start carrying them off back off towards the direction of the light house. ....Only...there was one problem. You had absolutely no idea which direction the lighthouse was in, and with the giant bags of supplies to be split between the four of you obstructing your view, it made it harder to see by all accounts as you tried peeking around and over the large bags. Stumbling a bit and almost bumping into a few people walking past you, they gave you an odd look before carrying on. Certainly didn't help when your sobble gave a small chirp before literally climbing into one of the bags to which you panicked a little. The last thing you needed was him eating the food you just bought especially since it wasn't bought with your money!

"Hey! Bad pokemon!," you shouted jiggling the bags a bit, "You get out of there right now! You're not supposed to be in there!" The sobble peeked itself out over the edge of one of the bag's hearing it's master's voice as you frowned, and you didn't see where you were walking as you walked. "I'm serious! You can't just crawl in there! Out no- Oof!?"

"HEY!?," shouted a woman's voice.

You rammed into something or someone solid and you stumbled back, by some miracle not dropping the bags, and up righted yourself for a moment. Blinking you turned sideways to look at who you bumped into and were met with another woman who was looking at you with a bewildered look like everyone else who saw you walking around like this. The woman had a dark skin complexation with dark black hair with pretty blue streaks and eyes that were bluer than the ocean. What looked like a sports uniform adorned her body. She blinked at you as you stared before you seemed to blink and shake your head.

"Oh. Sorry about that, Miss," You apologized shifting two off the four bags in your arms. "I didn't see you there."

"Uh..Yes, I could tell." She ran an eye over the two bags in your arms and the other two hanging off your elbows. "That's a lot of groceries you're carrying there." Her eyes stopped at the little blue pokemon poking out of the top of one of the bags as it shoved a blue berry into it's mouth.

"Oh. It's not just for me actually. I'm traveling with some others and we needed this stuff." You followed her gaze and you gained a frown when you saw the sobble shove another berry into it's mouth. "HEY!" It fell back into the bag startled with a chirp....but slowly peeked the top of it's head and eyes back over to look at your scowl. "I said NO. Now you get out of there right now! If you're hungry I'll get you something else."

"Oh. Is this little one yours?," both of you looked over as the woman attempted to reach out and pet the sobble. Which resulted in your sobble giving off a sound of fright and immediately scuttle out from the bag in a hurry.

"HEY-" You leaned your head back as it jumped on your head and clung to your hair giving the other woman wide eyes of worry. You grumbled...but sighed and nodded. "Yeah. Sorry 'bout that. He's not used to strangers I guess."

With a smile, the woman placed a hand on her hip and studied the two of you. "Most sobble are, but it seems this one has become very attached to you."

You blew the sobble's tail from your face. "Believe me you don't know the half of it. Say. Could you tell me where I can find the lighthouse? I'm supposed to meet my friends there."

"Sure. I was actually heading towards the stadium actually. The light house is right next to it," she gestured to your bags. "I could even help you if you'd like."

You gave a relieved sigh. "Really?! Yes, thank you. That'd be a huge help."

You happily let the woman take two of the bags you were carrying and you followed her as she motioned for you to follow her. Gloria and Hop were most likely already waiting for you as they had first gone to the stadium and possibly Victor if he hadn't gotten side tracked or anything. As the two of you walked you took the chance to look around at the town. Seemed like the beach down you had gone to before the few times you went to the beach. As you glanced at the woman helping you out you couldn't help but...notice something. Did she seem familiar to you somehow?....You shook your head. Nah. Must've just been your imagination. She must've just looked like someone you've seen before. That's all. The both of you walked from the docks, past what looked like a restaurant of some sort, back towards the Pokemon Center before taking a right and heading down the same path the teens took when the four of you parted ways. From that point the two of you walked down a road with houses on one side and a fence overseeing the ocean on the other. There was a LOT more houses than you remembered in game so it took a good twenty minutes before you even saw the stadium as both of you passed a flight of concrete stairs leading up the hill towards the train station. You looked up and at the stadium as it's shadow loomed over you as you both walked past it. Unlike Milo's stadium this one seemed rather quiet right now even if it was as HUGE as his was. The gym leader mustn't be battling anyone right now where ever she was. As you two continued to walk past it, you blinked seeing a tall structure up ahead which was unmistakably a light house, letting you sigh in relief. FINALLY!! You sighed in relief at seeing the structure and sped up your pacing a bit as the two of you rounding the corner the path lead towards the lighthouse and that's when you noticed the figures standing there. One or two strangers were there taking a picture next to the statues or the ocean view, but there was three you recognized easily as the twins and Hop. They all seemed happy to see you at first. But soon those happy faces turned into surprised and shocked ones the closer you walked. Victor even shaking his head and blinking as you approached.

"Uh...Hey, Y/n. Whatcha got there?"

"Our supplies," you replied arms all sore and tired from the long walk over. Victor blinked as you shoved the two bags you were holding into his arms. "Here. Take these. Im beat." They continued to stare at you even as you turned to the woman and take the other two heavy bags from her. Your brow rising as you turned and saw their wide eyed looks. "....Are you three alright? You all look like you've seen a ghost."

"...Y/n. Do you even know WHO that is?!," Gloria asked pointed towards the woman and you turned to look at her again..before shrugging.

"She helped me out. Thanks by the way."

She nodded. "It was my pleasure."

"Don't you even know who that is!?" Gloria groaned at your utterly confused face as you blankly stared and as a result pointed right at the smiling woman next to you. "You literally don't know!? THAT'S NESSA!! Like the Gym Leader Nessa! The person we traveled all the way here to see!"

You blinked before looking back to Nessa as she glanced at you. "...Oh. Thanks for the help again. It was very nice of you."

She nodded again. "Your welcome. And you." She glanced over to Gloria who still stared in disbelief at her. "You must be a gym challenger right? You're one of the ones endorsed by Leon right?"

Gloria stared at her a little longer before Hop nudged her making her flinch. "HUH!? I mean- Y-Yeah! O-One of them." She gestured to Hop next to her. "And he's one o' the other ones."

"Hello, Ma'am." Hop smiled and waved. "I'm Hop and this is Gloria and that's Victor. You uh...Weren't at the stadium when we went there."

"My apologies," Nessa apologized as you turned back to her. OH! Now you could recognize her easily. She was on the cover of that magazine Gloria showed you and you vaguely remembered seeing her back at the entrance ceremony. "But I just got back from a boating shoot and I've already promised someone else a battle for later today. But I must say, you've become something of a hot topic among the gym leaders."

"Wait. We are?"

She chuckled. "Are you kidding me? Leon never stops talking about how awesome his little brother is and how he's just the smartest kid ever to come out of Postwick."

Hop coughed and scratched at his head in embarrassment. "Well...I wouldn't say that."

"I mean. He's not wrong. You're pretty smart."

"Glory! Don't embarrass me like Mum please!," he begged red faced.

You decided to help give him a break. "I had no idea he spoke so highly of Hop." You spoke to Nessa. Although you wouldn't be surprised considering how hyped up Hop got about Leon, and how loving Leon was to them.

She chuckled again before reaching behind her and pulling something out of her pocket. Well two somethings. "Here you go, Ms. Famous. I already heard about you, so you should learn more about me too." She held out what you made out as cards to Hop and Gloria as the two wide eyed teens took them in disbelief.

"OMG! Another League Card!! Thank you so much, Ms. Nessa! Does this mean you'll be able to battle one of us tomorrow?"

She nodded. "Sure. Just speak to one of my staff at the stadium and we can schedule a battle in the next two days for three." She then pointed behind her. "But I had better head to the stadium. I can't delay my scheduled battle anymore than I've already had."

You nodded in understanding. "We understanding completely, Miss. Thanks again for the help."

She nodded towards you. "I love fishing, but I love pokemon battles even more and I'm itching for a battle with you. Hopefully we'll get to battle real soon." With a wave towards you four, Nessa turned on her heel and began to walk away.

You waved back before turning back to the three teens staring back at you. ".....What?"

"HOW COULD YOU NOT KNOW WHO THAT WAS WITH YOU!?,'' Gloria shouted gesturing to where Nessa walked off to which you shrugged again.

"Sorry? I was a little busy with something more important at the moment and I guess I wasn't paying too much attention to her. But she seemed very nice. But how did your guys' lil trip go?"

"I managed to book us a hotel here for a couple nights," Victor answered before gesturing his head over towards the other two. "And we're all set up to fight, but someone already beat us for a spot today."

"Oh. Who?"

"The Mareep Head!," Gloria huffed one hand one her hip and the other waving the small League Card in the air. Mareep Head- OH! She must've been referring to Bede. He must've been the one Nessa was rushing off to battle then. "We just waltzed on in and there he was acting all smug like he jus' won the whole challenge already. He even asked if I "Got Hatenna's good side' on camera. Psh! He's such a stuck up mudbray!"

You could only nod juggling the groceries in your arms. "I...see. Well since there's nothing we can do right now for the moment, why don't we just go back to the hotel Victor mentioned and take care of these?"

Victor nodded in agreement tugging his own bags along as you both turned with Gloria mumbling behind you all the way to the hotel.

#pokemon leon x reader #reader x leon #leon x reader #pokemon leon #pokemon sword #pokemon shield #pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #a champion time for the heart

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2goth2moth · 3 years ago

Note

Thinking about a slime (slimy?) tentacle monster who rooms with me . I know nothing about them besides what they look like and prefer to eat (from our shared kitchen).

Can you make a scenario where I try to get to date or maybe fu- know them a little better?

I'm sorry I took so long on this, and I hope that I took it in a direction that you like!

Making Co-Habitation Work (Genderless!Tentacle Slime x M!Reader, NSFW)

SO to the wonderful @xo-philia once again for beta-reading this!

As I described this to him when I first sent him the doc: this is just goop that loves you.

Word count: 3348

Includes: Throat fucking, kissing, slime, tentacles, completely gelatinous/non-solid body, non-sexual telepathy (never expected to write that phrase), slight miscommunications, a little bit of teasing

Living with people could be hard. Sharing space, always being under someone’s foot, someone else always being under yours, dealing with other people’s weird eating habits, it could get to be a lot. So you couldn’t begin to believe your luck when your new roommate, Zan, presented exactly none of the usual issues. They never ate your food, always kept the kitchen and bathroom perfectly clean, and were so quiet that most of the time you could barely tell that there was anyone else in the house. They were the textbook definition of “perfect roommate”, but...

Look, you appreciated them, you really did. But you couldn’t help but wish your relationship was a little bit more personal. All you really knew about them was what they looked like (a vaguely humanoid torso on a slithery mass of tentacles, all a lovely shade of translucent violet), and what they ate from the kitchen (anything salty or spicy, but mostly instant noodles). You hadn’t seen them move in, never saw more than the briefest glimpse of them moving around the house. You knew nothing about them. And you wanted to! Even with shitty past roommates, you had to admit that it was nice to get to know some of them, and you wanted to at least try to be friends with your mysterious slimy roomie.

And so a plan was hatched. Armed with a bowl of egg curry and a blinding determination to get to know them no matter what, you steeled yourself for the text that you had to send.

To: Zan

Supper’s ready. egg curry

let’s eat together tn?

Several terrifying, heart-pounding moments passed before you got your response: a thumbs up emoji.

Yes!

You got in a few seconds of silent celebration before the sound of a door creaking open made you snap back to a pose that looked at least a little neutral. There were a few seconds of wet noises down the hallway before Zan turned the corner.

Your breath stopped.

It became glaringly obvious the second you saw them that you had never spent enough time together for you to really get a good idea of what they looked like. Your general sense was right, they were a half-humanoid tentacled creature made of translucent purple slime, but that didn’t even begin to cover it. The bottom half of their body was a tangle of slickly curling tentacles, the individual tendrils fusing and splitting absently as they moved. Their torso was a soft intimation of humanity, flawless and smooth in its lack of muscle and bone beneath skin, their arms amorphous forms that shifted between tentacle and true limb with each second that passed. Their head was a sci-fi character designer’s wet dream, sleek, undefined, beautiful in its alienness. What you had originally thought was just violet was deep, multi-layered, fading from lilac to eggplant and every shade in between. You couldn’t help but think that they might well be the most beautiful being you’d ever seen.

“Hi.”

You were sent reeling as the word echoed through your skull without it ever having been spoken out loud. You managed to get your feet back under you after a few seconds and filed that little fact about telepathy away to deal with later.

“Hey. I, um…you can sit down and get some food if you want.”

Zan was still for several long moments before slowly nodding and moving to sit in the chair across from you. A pretty pinkish colour flashed through them when the curry’s fragrant steam hit them and they placed the end of one of their arms onto the plate, absorbing half a boiled egg covered in rich, spicy curry into their body. You watched in fascination as it began to dissolve, preening internally at the pleased hum that vibrated between your ears. Taking the first bite from your own plate, you couldn’t help but agree.

“Have I done something wrong?” Their voice said after a few minutes of silent eating.

You cocked your head in confusion. “No? Why would you think you had?”

“You’ve never wanted to talk to me before, and then all of a sudden you call a...house dinner?”

“Oh, shit. You haven’t done anything wrong. Sorry, I probably should have said that before.” You mentally slapped yourself in the face at the thought of how that must have felt for them. “I just thought that it might be nice to, I don’t know, talk? We’ve been living together for a few months now and I don’t think we’ve ever actually spoken and I want to get to know you, if you want. It’s okay if you don’t.”

Somewhere in the middle of your rambling Zan had taken their arm off their plate and they were staring-- well, as close as they could get to “staring�� with no face-- directly at you.

Something about it seemed like they still didn’t believe you. “You’re the best roommate I’ve ever had,” you blurted out, trying to make them feel better.

A dark reddish-purple started in the centre of their chest and unfurled through their whole body. “Really?”

“Yeah. By like, a lot. Why are you so surprised by that?”

“I freak a lot of people out, I guess?” They said quietly, the words wavering in your mind. “Are...are you sure?”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’d like to be friends with you. We don’t have to spend a ton of time together, but dinner sometimes, maybe a movie night every so often? Does that sound good?”

“Yes it does,” they hummed, putting their arm back on their plate to absorb more curry. “This is really good, by the way.”

It was impossible for you to hold back your grin as you thanked them, and dug back in.

◃◈▹

A couple of months later, you could confidently say that sending that text was one of the best decisions you had ever made in your life. You and Zan got along like a house on fire, even though you still didn’t spend a ton of time together. Dinners eaten together at the tiny dining table were a regular occurrence, and you enjoyed them, but you definitely enjoyed the much rarer movie nights a lot more. They had started off in the small living room, sitting comfortably separate on the rock-hard couch cushions, but had quickly moved to your bedrooms, because the beds were more comfortable. In the beginning you sat an arm’s length apart, backs against the wall as the movie played on your laptop set up on a chair opposite the two of you. As the days passed, you moved closer together, soaking up each other’s warmth in the light of the screen. You brushed elbows and knees with silky-slick tentacles more often than not, and had definitely ended up falling asleep leaning against each other more than once.

The whole thing was very bad for your heart. It was stoking the low burn of affection behind your ribs hotter and hotter until it was dangerously close to turning into a full-blown blaze. You felt like Icarus flying too close to the sun, but it felt too good to relish in your growing friendship to stop the affection, no matter how wise it would have been to slow down a bit.

So halfway through the movie you sat curled up next to Zan, your legs slung over their tentacles as little tendrils split off from their body to idly curl over and against your bare legs. The slime was warm and slightly damp to the touch, almost like freshly-showered skin, and you had to suppress a shiver every time they dragged over you. Even with your best efforts, you still jumped when a particularly adventurous one trailed over the sensitive skin behind your knee.

All of their movements stilled. “Are you okay?” Their voice rippled in your head, a feeling that you thought might never lose its novelty no matter how many times you felt it.

“Yeah,” you said, squirming a little. “Just ticklish.”

“Okay.”

The two of you lapsed back into an almost-comfortable silence, but there was something buzzing, electric, running beneath the surface. You focused single-mindedly on the screen in front of you, determined not to let Zan see how their casual touch had been driving you wild.

The voice in your head made something like a bracing little huff. “Can...can I keep touching you?”

“Yes?” The word was more of a question than permission. “Why couldn’t you?”

“You jumped when I touched your knee earlier, and you’ve been all stiff since, so I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to.”

The way they said it was matter-of-fact, but there was an unmistakable waver to their voice that you couldn’t quite place, but made your heart squeeze anyways.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, I just wasn’t expecting it,” you reassured them, reaching out your hand to rest on their arm.

“Good,” they hummed.

The slime of their arm rippled beneath your fingers, the smooth surface distorting so that it could wrap ever-so-slightly around your fingertips, tickling the skin around your nails affectionately. You giggled a little at the sensation and dug your hand deeper into their body in retaliation. Their laugh ricocheted around your head, breathy and bubbling, and they quickly returned to stroking your legs with their tentacles. Tendrils curled around the bones of your ankles, the curves of your calves, the dips of your knees. Each drag sent little thrills shivering up your spine, and you had to reposition yourself to try to hide the fact that all of the physical contact was sending blood rushing to your cock, mentally cursing yourself for wearing shorts that were too short and thin to do anything to disguise an erection if they looked too hard.

The feeling of a warm, damp tentacle brushing along the very bottom of your inner thigh sent you startling again. When you turned to look at Zan, their head was turned to you, and even though they had no eyes you felt something like a gaze boring deep into your skin.

Their hum was quiet and shy as it filled your head. “Is this okay? Can I go higher?”

The strange undertone of their voice made you shiver as you slowly nodded your assent. Some part of you desperately wanted it to be desire, for Zan to want you the way you wanted them (a discovery that was somewhat new and not at all startling), but you didn’t want to let yourself get too lost in the idea. The tentative slide of their tentacle up your leg made you shiver and squirm, hoping beyond hope that the room was dark enough that they couldn’t see your now half-hard cock in your shorts. You breathed deeply with the effort of not reacting, eyelids fluttered closed in the face of such lovely torture, before they shot open when the very tip of the tendril traced the skin just under the hem of your shorts.

“Woah, hey!” You pulled back from the touch.

Every bit of slime against your skin recoiled sharply the second the words left your mouth.

“I’m sorry! What did I do? Are you okay?” The barrage of their words clashed with your own racing thoughts, scrambling your mind and making your head pound slightly.

“No, I’m fine,” you said, the words tumbling out as you tried to make sense of what you were feeling. You could feel blood rush to your face, heat flooding your cheeks and ears and the back of your neck. “It’s just that…”

This had all gotten to be too much, this thing that had been building since that first dinner, that had been charging uphill for the last hour and a half. You couldn’t take it anymore. Whipping around to face Zan, you pinned them with your gaze. The tone of their slime changed, but it was too dark for you to tell how. “I don’t think you get just how much you affect me! You’re so sweet, and- and gentle, and don’t get me wrong, I like all the touching, but I can’t just keep pretending that this is all normal and meaningless! I’m- I’m sorry.”

It was impossible for you to keep your voice steady, or to stop the tears from pooling in your eyes. You went to stand up and leave the room when Zan’s confused voice filled the space between your ears.

“This isn’t meaningless, though?”

You went deathly still. “What do you mean, ‘not meaningless’?”

They tilted their head at you in confusion. “I mean it’s not meaningless? I like you, like, a lot. Not platonically. I thought you knew that.”

“You what? The fuck do you mean? Why would I have known?”

“I like you romantically? I wasn’t being subtle about it, I don’t think.”

Your brain ground to a stop. “You like me?”

“Yes?” They said, voice tilting up at the end of the word. “I thought you knew, that’s why I’ve been so affectionate with you all this time, I’m so sorry. I never would have done anything like that if I’d known you didn’t feel the same…”

You cut off their babbling apologies decisively. “You’re a fucking idiot if you think that I don’t feel the same. I’m a fucking idiot, I cannot believe that I never picked up on that.” With agonizing slowness, you moved closer to Zan so you could cup their head in your hands. “Can I kiss you?”

The only answer you got was them leaning into your touch and pressing their face to yours. The slime under your hands shifted to cradle them, the smooth surface of their face softening to cup the contours of your lips.

Kissing Zan was nothing like anything you had ever felt before. The silky-smooth texture of their slime was nothing new or unfamiliar, but up until now you’d only felt its gentle drag on your arms and shins, the back of your neck on a good day. But the way they yielded and pressed against your mouth, a fluid motion that was nothing like lips but very much like magic, was a feeling you thought you could very easily get addicted to.

Desperate to get closer to them, you slung your legs back up so that they lay across their lower body. The grip they had on your hands got firmer by the second, as your kisses got harder and messier, spit slipping from your mouth to slick the slime between you.

You pulled back enough to mumble a slurred “please touch me” into them, a task that Zan gleefully returned to. Slender tendrils circled your ankles and wrists, stroking the delicate skin at the inside of your joints as they pulled you closer to them. A thick tentacle found its way back to the inside of your thigh and this time you didn’t startle away from it. The violet slime was warm and heavy where it wound around your leg and slipped up under the edge of your shorts to trace teasing circles into the creases of your hips. You moaned into the slime of their face, and the part of your lips gave them the perfect opportunity to slide another one into your mouth.

The slick appendage twisted around your tongue, filling your willing mouth with a pleasant taste, mild and unspecific, that slipped down your throat with a substance that you thought was too thick to just be saliva. It also became very obvious that the glide against your groin was much smoother than it had been. Your cock twitched eagerly as you realized that the tentacles were wet, leaking a viscous and slippery fluid into your mouth and onto your thigh. Completely against your will, you let out a throaty groan that was muffled by the tentacle in your mouth. A sweet, warbling sound echoed through your head, and you realized with a jolt that Zan was vocalizing their pleasure in a beautiful, intoxicating, inhuman way.

The feeling of a slick tendril wrapping your cock in its wet heat made your mouth drop open in a silent cry. It had been too long since someone had touched you like this, and even then the feeling was so impossibly unlike anything you’d ever felt before that it felt like your brain was melting. Zan took advantage of your gaping mouth and open throat to corkscrew their tentacle even deeper into you, stretching your jaw almost painfully around them.

“Can you breathe okay?” They asked, voice coloured with concern. “Do you think you could handle me fucking your throat?”

You did your best to answer them without pulling away, the words turning into a wet burble as they got swallowed by spit and slime leaving your mouth, and sank down onto the tentacle as far as you could go without gagging. Swallowing, you could feel your throat ripple around Zan and you looked at them with teary eyes.

“Fuck,” they moaned.

The grip of slime around your dick spasmed and began rippling in turn, the feeling something halfway between a blowjob and getting jerked off that made your eyes roll back in your head in pleasure. Slowly, the tentacle that filled your mouth started thrusting back and forth into the hot vice of your throat. You squirmed, trying to get the leverage to buck your hips up into the tentacle enveloping your shaft, but their grip on your legs held you fast against them, sinking ever-so-slightly into the translucent slime of their body.

“Mmf!”

Zan’s thrusts abruptly picked up speed, viciously sliding in and out of your throat hard enough to make you choke slightly. Relaxing as much as you could, you lost yourself in the pleasure of them filling up your mouth and surrounding your cock. Little moans and cries were coming endlessly from you, turning into filthy gurgling sounds that were echoed by Zan’s voice in your head and forced the combination of saliva and slime past your lips until it was dripping down your chin. The tentacles holding your hands and restraining your legs began spasming aggressively as pleasure built tensely in your gut.

The tentacle that wrapped around your cock began working even harder too, sliding back and forth along your shaft as it pulsed and rippled to make you feel as good as possible. Your wet moans heightened to a near yell as a small tendril split off and moved downwards to cup your balls. It felt like being held and sucked at the same time, the pressure and suction on the sensitive organs unbelievably good. You felt your climax building and you mumbled out what was supposed to be a warning but inevitably got swallowed by the slime still filling your mouth. Zan clearly got the message though, as they started moving over you in complete unison, the tentacles on your groin sucking in perfect time with the one fucking brutally into your throat. The pace they set was punishing, and you were nearly delirious with pleasure when you orgasmed with a violent shudder, cum shooting out into their body. Aftershocks stuttered through your muscles as the tentacles filling you and holding your body slowly unwound, leaving you panting and covered in slime and spit.

You watched with half-lidded interest as the streaks of white cum suspended in their slime began to dissolve as they consumed it, a sight that you found undeniably hot, if a little odd. With great effort, you sat up to kiss Zan’s head, cringing slightly at the feeling of your soaked shorts between your thighs.

Zan chuckled affectionately at your discomfort and cradled you closer to them in order to start stripping off your dirty clothes. “Go get in the shower. I’ll throw these in the laundry.”

You grumbled at the idea of having to get up but you didn’t even want to think about how gross the slime would be to wash off once it was dry, so you kissed their shoulder softly and left, secretly hoping that they’d join you once they were done.

#consentacles #slime monster #monster fucker #monster lover #exophilia #terato #monster x human #nsft #smut #minors do not interact #terfs dont fucking touch #exclusionists dni

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tobesolonely · 4 years ago

Text

aura

A/n: Hi everyone! this is a tad bit different from the things i usually write (I think) as i wanted to switch things up a little bit. I’m kinda nervous to post it so pleaseee please let me know your thoughts! As always please enjoy!! thank you to everyone who beta read for me btw :)

summary: witch!y/n can see auras and harry is blue

my ko-fi! thank you :)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N has always been able to easily empathize with others. She could see others' emotional energy— their aura— and this made it easy to know exactly what they were feeling. Not only could she see auras, but she could take away anyone’s emotional turmoil just by touching them.

One of Y/N’s most vivid memories from her childhood was when her best friend came to school one morning in tears over the death of her pet fish. When Y/N leaned in to give her a hug, she felt an overwhelming heaviness overtake her body as soon as they made contact. Upon pulling away from the hug, her friend’s demeanor was completely changed. Instead of being sad over the death of her fish, she was able to instead reflect on all the good times she had with him. Her friend was fine for the rest of the day, but Y/N was left grieving over a fish she never even owned.

Y/N went home that day, confused. How was it that her friend was so easily cheered up just from a hug? Was that all it took for Y/N to make others feel better? If that was the case, she decided she wanted to be a ‘Professional Hugger’ when she grew up. As time went on, Y/N learned that she didn’t even have to hug others to rid them of their mental pain. The slightest touch from her instantly made anyone she came into contact with feel better.

It took a few months for Y/N to realize it was her touch that healed others. Sure, that mental anguish then became hers to carry, but how many people could say they could heal someone just by touching them? If that was the price she had to pay, then so be it. From that point on Y/N made it a point to help anyone she could.

As Y/N got older and her skill with this power grew, she learned to redirect the painful energy elsewhere so she didn’t always have to sit with it. It worked some of the time, but it was something she was still learning to master. Y/N wasn’t always successful in doing this, though. While whoever Y/N touched went about their day feeling great, she would experience their emotions so intensely that she felt as if she were coming down with a cold. Y/N dealt with it in silence because the way she saw it if she was blessed with this gift, she had to be selfless and put it to good use. Y/N was a firm believer that all the good she put out would come back to her in another life at least ten times over.

It was difficult for Y/N not to touch everyone she saw whose aura reflected sadness, anxiety, or worry. She tried to stick to only doing this to people she knew, but there were some instances where Y/N encountered someone who was just so clearly unhappy that she could not help herself.

For example, right now.

Y/N immediately sensed this stranger’s emotional turmoil as soon as they entered the space. It was late afternoon on a Wednesday. Y/N had the longest, most physically demanding day at work and the last thing she wanted to do was go home and cook. Even though she had just gone grocery shopping two days prior, she stopped by her favorite Thai place on the way home. Y/N was in the middle of ordering when their presence quite literally took her breath away, causing her to stumble over her words.

She turned to look over her shoulder at the person who was so greatly distracting her and locked eyes with the most pitiful looking stranger she’d seen all day. The first thing Y/N noticed about him was his hair. It was unruly, like he had just gotten out of bed. She also noticed how tall he was–– if he had just a couple more inches on him, he would’ve had to crane his neck to enter the establishment. Upon making eye contact with Y/N the man quickly looked down at his shoes, twiddling his thumbs. His aura was a mixture of indigo and dark red when Y/N looked at him. Anger and sensitivity.

“Do you still need a moment?”

The voice of the cashier breaks Y/N out of her analytical thoughts of the stranger standing a few feet behind her. She nods, re-situating her purse on her left shoulder.

“Uh, please. He can go ahead if he’s ready.” Y/N gestures behind her and the cashier nods, asking the man behind her if he was ready to order yet. He steps up to the front counter, eyes trained on his feet as if he couldn’t walk without watching every step he took.

His energy was intense and Y/N wasn’t sure how much longer she could ignore it. Something about him was reeling her in— his aura wasn’t looking too bright at the moment, but she could just tell it usually was. She felt compelled to take away his pain, and she hadn’t spoken a single word to him yet. While he was placing his order, Y/N internally debated on whether or not she should “accidentally” graze his arm when they walked past each other. Would that be weird? What if she wasn’t able to redirect his negative energy elsewhere? While she did love to help whenever she could, some people’s emotional baggage was just a little too heavy. She didn’t know him. For all she knew, he could be a killer!

He turns back around once he’s finished ordering and stands by the entrance, out of Y/N’s way. The pair lock eyes again as Y/N makes her way back to the counter to order. Once again, he quickly looked away from her. Y/N’s trying to ignore the annoying nagging feeling she gets when she wants to help someone, but it’s unrelenting. She makes up her mind that once she’s done, she will approach this stranger to get a better read on his emotions.

“Nice weather we’re having today, isn’t it?” She cringes at her choice of a conversation starter and hopes he doesn’t notice. Y/N folds her hands across her chest, forcing herself not to reach out to him. He nods.

“Lovely.”

The tone of his voice causes Y/N to wince. It was sharp and short. He was clearly not in the mood to converse. Although Y/N knows this, she continues on.

“I love this place. I think I come here at least twice a month–– what’s your go-to order?”

The man turns to fully face Y/N this time, his aura now more red than blue. He was beginning to grow annoyed with her small talk.

“Green curry and stir-fried vegetables.” He doesn’t ask Y/N for her order, so she takes this as her signal to stop speaking to him. The bell above the door jingles, signaling another persons’ entry. Their aura is shining gold–– Y/N would not have to interfere.

Y/N moves away from this man, deciding not to speak to him anymore. She was getting better at accepting the fact that no matter how much she wanted to, it was impossible to help everyone. As he collected his food from the front and turned to leave, not sparing Y/N another glance, she silently hoped that whatever was wrong with this man would not last.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Harry was in a funk. There was no denying it, and he was over feeling so terribly. He hadn’t been feeling like himself for far too long. It seemed like everyone wanted something from him when he had nothing left to give. Jeff had set unrealistic deadlines, his mother was upset with him for not calling enough, and he was exhausted from constantly traveling and waking up in a new time zone. Harry needed a break.

Harry’s mind wandered to the pretty girl in the Thai place. She seemed inquisitive. She was very curious about his go-to order, and she was standing a little too close for his comfort. Harry was surprised when she didn’t ask him for a picture. He wasn’t trying to be cocky, but nearly everyone he met asked him for a picture–– he was Harry Styles. However, it was almost like this girl didn’t know who he was. She didn’t seem starstruck in the slightest.

While Harry was waiting for the light to change, it dawned on him that he may have been a tad bit rude to her. He noticed her happy expression drop when he shut her down, but he didn’t feel like talking. He liked to move from place to place as quickly as he could in the off chance he got recognized and it started circulating on Twitter. Still, he couldn’t help feeling a little bad. She was sweet like honey–– or so it seemed. In their brief interaction, she bought him comfort.

Harry wanted to turn back around and go back to the restaurant to check if she was still there. What would be the point, though? She would most likely be long gone by the time he made it back over there, as she did order immediately after him. Harry’s torn out of his thoughts when the cars behind him start honking, and he realizes the light must’ve turned green. He decides not to think about the confrontation anymore.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The world works in mysterious ways.

Y/N was sure she’d never encounter the grumpy man from her favorite Thai restaurant again but yet here she was in another situation that involved take-out and him. His aura was dark indigo this time. Stress? Isolation? Y/N didn’t know, but she wanted to help him. In her eyes, there was no reason for anyone to be down this badly. She just wanted everyone to be as happy as she (almost) always was! She takes a deep breath before approaching him.

“Hi. How are you?”

Harry was absorbed in a text conversation involving his manager and stylist when a sweet, familiar voice interrupts him.

“I’m okay, thank you. Yourself? Also, we’ve spoken before, I believe.”

She nods, a troubled look on her face. “We have. At the Thai place. How are you, though? Really.”

Harry was beginning to find her a bit strange (but still incredibly gorgeous, even more than he did before now that he got a good look at her face). Why was she so concerned with how he was feeling? Was she going to ask him for a picture or not? As Harry opened his mouth to again tell her he was fine, the desire to tell her how he was really feeling came over him. So he did.

“Honestly? ‘M exhausted. I’ve been doing a lot of traveling and my manager wants a lot from me. I think I jus’ need a break.”

He radiated red. Anxiety? Anger?

“What do you do for work?” Now it was Harry’s turn to wear the troubled look.

“I don’t mean this to be rude, but you’re serious?”

Y/N nods, reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder. Just as quickly as she touches him she removes her hand, and she’s almost certain he didn’t even feel her touch. She notices him let out a visible sigh of relief, his aura changing from a red to a pale yellow. Optimism. Positivity. This causes her to let out her own sigh of relief.

“You’re feeling better! That’s great.” Y/N was not able to redirect his negative energy as the restaurant was too crowded and she didn’t want to risk putting it on anyone else, and she was feeling him. He was stressed, overworked, and anxious. Y/N just wanted to go home and nap, no longer in the mood for the food she just ordered.

Harry decided she was definitely odd but in the most endearing way possible. “How do you know I’m feeling better? Wait, am I feeling better?” Y/N watches as he works through his emotions, his aura ranging in color before settling back on pale yellow.

“Are you?” Y/N knows the answer to this of course, but she wants to hear him say it.

“I think I am. I’ve been feelin’ horrible all week but saying how I felt out loud to you automatically made me feel better. Kind of weird, but I won’t question it. Thank you for asking…,” Harry scrunches his nose, a distasteful expression on his face. “I don’t think ‘ve gotten your name yet.”

Y/N gives him a small, forced smile. “I’m Y/F/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to meet you. I’ll be seeing you around, I think.” Before Harry can tell her his name she’s gone.

And she didn’t even grab her food.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N felt like she had been hit by a ton of bricks. How one person could carry around all this emotional baggage was beyond her, but she wanted it gone. Immediately.

There was a spell Y/N kept on hand for times like these. Times when she couldn’t redirect the negative energy before it got to her. Times when it was just too much to carry. Y/N had regretfully done this spell more times than she could count and was an expert at reciting it from memory. The vile was open and ready to capture the negative energy that would shortly be leaving her.

Y/N works quickly to complete the process, unsure of what time her roommate would come barreling through the door. She had caught her doing things she deemed strange one too many times (she thought her roommate almost figured out who she really was when she caught her having a full-on conversation with her cat, Sapphire, once). She was beginning to run out of excuses for her “unusual” behavior. Y/N mutters under her breath, willing the energy to exit her.

She notices right away when it leaves her. She feels lighter— like her usual self again. She guides the energy into the vile and immediately seals it, hurrying into her room to lock it away. Y/N kept a box in her closet that she only opened if she had to. It was her Pandora’s Box, in a way. Nothing bad would be released into the world if she opened the box, but if the viles’ were opened then the bad energy she trapped would be re-released into the world, finding its way back to their original owners.

Y/N feels like she can breathe again once she bolts the box. She hoped that whatever he was doing, wherever this man was, he was still feeling okay.

Also, for his sake and everyone’s around him, she hoped he got a break.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was on Harry’s mind.

Something about her was magnetic. He wished he’d gotten more information about her than only her name, but she left him in such a hurry he could hardly process their conversation. Harry felt like a madman! He searched ‘Y/F/N Y/L/N’ on all social media platforms, but he couldn’t find her anywhere. It was dumb luck that he had ran into her twice in such a short time span, and he hoped good things happened in threes and he would see her again.

He was almost certain that Jeff thought he was losing his mind.

Harry tried explaining his interaction with Y/N first at the Thai food spot and again when he was getting Greek food, but Jeff thought Harry was so sleep deprived he was imagining things.

“How did you see a beautiful, young woman who didn’t freak out or ask for a picture? Doesn’t make sense. You’re Harry Styles.”

“That’s what I thought!” Harry exclaimed wildly. He holds his phone up. “I’m thinkin’ she really doesn’t know who I am, though. I couldn’t find her on any social media platform. It’s like she’s off the grid or somethin’.”

“No social media at all? A little weird, isn’t it?”

“It’s fitting for her. If you met her then you would understand what I meant,” Harry felt the need to defend this alluring stranger who took away his pain just by listening to him speak. “Look at me, Jeff. Don’t I seem so much better than I was jus’ a few days ago?”

His manager couldn’t deny that Harry’s mood (and attitude) had done a 360. He didn’t complain about being woken up early and he happily consented to do not one, but two interviews.

“I mean, yeah? I guess––”

“Thanks to her!” Harry cuts him off. “I’m telling you. I need to see her again and thank her for whatever she did.”

“How are you going to do that?”

Harry leaned back against the counter in Jeff’s kitchen, mulling the question over. It was a valid one. How was he going to do that? He already tried to no avail to find her on social media. He hardly knew anything about her. All he knew was her name, that they seemed to have a similar taste in food, and that she went to the Thai spot at least two times a month.

That was it.

In one last effort to contact Y/N again, Harry planned to go to the Thai food place, pray the cashier who was working when he went in earlier this week was there, and leave his number with her. It was a risky move, probably not the smartest thing he could do, and Jeff would for sure drop him as a client if he knew Harry was doing things like this. Harry didn’t care. Phone numbers could always be changed, and he was desperate.

If Harry couldn’t contact Y/N, he would wait for her to contact him.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N was confused.

She stopped at her favorite Thai food spot (sooner in the month than anticipated, but she had another long day), ordered her usual, and was about to leave when the sweet cashier who was always there insisted she takes the piece of paper with ‘HARRY’ followed by a phone number scrawled on it.

“For me?” Y/N was confused. Something like this had never happened to her before. I mean, does it happen to anyone?

“He insisted,” the cashier warmly responds. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back–– knew you would soon enough.” Y/N’s face flushes at this and she makes a mental note to start cooking more.

“Well…,” Y/N trails off, not sure what to say. “Thank you? I guess I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ve done well.” The cashier’s aura shines pink. Affection. Love.

“You should. Take care!”

Y/N leaves the restaurant with the crumpled piece of paper in her sweaty hands, eager to get home as soon as possible. She wasn’t sure what it was, but something told her not to disregard him. His reaching out was a sign–– and Y/N did not ignore signs.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“She hasn’t called me yet.”

“It’s been five days, Harry. She probably doesn’t eat Thai food every day. I can’t believe you did something so fuckin’ stupid…”

Jeff’s reprimanding fades into the background as Harry drifts off into daydreaming about what it would be like if– when- Y/N finally called him. Would she find him obsessed? What if she thought he was stalking her? Harry decided that when she called, he would immediately clear things up. He’d thank her for her kindness (his trademark) and see how she was doing. She left the Greek food place so abruptly when he last saw her that he was under the impression something was bothering her. Harry wasn’t sure what he could do to help if something was troubling her, but he could at least extend a listening ear to her as she did to him.

“Harry, are you listening?”

“What was that?”

Jeff shakes his head at Harry, an amused expression on his face. “Man, I hope she calls you soon.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

The phone rang three times. After the third ring, his gruff voice came through the other end of the phone.

“Hello?”

Y/N sharply inhales, suddenly growing nervous. “Is this Harry?” Silence. Y/N was preparing to repeat herself when he spoke again.

“Is this Y/N?”

Now it’s Y/N’s turn to be silent. Harry says nothing, awaiting her response. “Well, it is. You sound familiar–– how do we know each other?”

“Now that ’m actually able to talk to you, it sounds a bit silly…” He seems unsure of himself. “Promise y’won’t laugh at me?”

“I promise.”

Y/N says it with such conviction that Harry believes her, and it gives him the confidence he needs to proceed. “I was havin’ a hard time a couple of weeks ago. I was in line to get some falafel and you asked me what was wrong. What was really wrong.” Y/N says nothing, so Harry continues.

“I told you I was exhausted from work ‘nd wanted a break. That’s it, y’know? But I immediately felt better afterward. I’ve actually been feelin’ great ever since. I jus’ wanted to thank you, is all. I know it sounds weird and it’s probably all in m’head but I feel like talkin’ with you was just what I needed.” Harry’s rambling, nerves finally catching up to him. She was gorgeous and he was afraid she would think he was insane.

“I’m glad to hear you’re still feeling better, Harry. That’s great.” Y/N’s voice is gentle and soft and to Harry, hearing her speak was just as comforting as getting a hug from his mum.

“I’m also really sorry that I was such a dick when you tried talkin’ to me the first time at the Thai spot,'' Harry feels embarrassed, stumbling over his words. “Not sure if you remember but I was just havin’ a shit day. I thought you were gonna ask for a picture and I just wasn’t in the mood.”

Y/N doesn’t say anything and Harry winces, certain he’s offended her when she starts talking again.

“That’s okay. I know you were having a bad day.”

“How did you know I was having a bad day?” Again, Y/N pauses before answering.

“Well, I didn’t do anything to you for you to be so rude to me. I knew it had to be a problem involving yourself.” Harry notices that Y/N speaks very slowly. It’s as if she considers every word before she speaks. He’s intrigued by her.

“That is very true.” Y/N doesn’t say anything so Harry takes it as his cue to keep talking. “I’m sorry if me leaving my number at the restaurant creeped you out. I hope you didn’t feel obligated to call me.”

“Not at all. I’ve actually been wondering how you were doing since we had our encounter at the Greek place–– that doesn’t creep you out either, right?”

Y/N was hypnotizing. Harry was infatuated.

“Not at all.”

“Can I ask you something, Harry?”

“Course.”

“Why would I want a picture with you?”

Harry had to get to know her.

“Do y’wanna grab coffee sometime?”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Something was definitely different about Y/N–– Harry just couldn’t put his finger on what it was. To begin, she truly had absolutely no idea who Harry was. At first, he thought she was just messing with him, but he quickly realized she was being serious. Y/N said she had “heard of” One Direction, but she never listened to the band’s music. Harry supposed that could account for her being unaware as to who he was. Maybe he wasn’t a “household name” like Jeff always said he was.

Harry was also right about her not having social media. When he asked Y/N why she didn’t use it, she said she preferred to occupy her time with more substantial things. She didn’t elaborate, and Harry didn’t ask. She was however very interested to learn what a big social media following Harry had. He tweeted the word “Do” and they watched as the internet went wild trying to decipher what he meant. He even started trending worldwide for it. It made sense to Y/N after that why Harry was so intent on not taking off his sunglasses and beanie.

Y/N was having a great time analyzing his aura.

She noticed that whenever someone glanced in their direction, his aura briefly turned red. Anxiety. When Y/N attempted to make a joke, it turned pink (she chose not to analyze that too much). Mainly though, his aura shone that beautiful, pale yellow that Y/N loved to see the most. Harry was doing well. He was happy. Y/N would not have to intervene today.

She couldn’t explain why, but she felt obligated to help him. Even though his energy made her feel so terribly last time, she would’ve still taken away his pain if he was blue without even thinking twice about it. Why was she so drawn to him? Y/N wasn’t sure what it was about Harry that drew her in, but she knew she would do anything to help him. Anything to see him happy.

Unbeknownst to Y/N, Harry felt the same way.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Y/N missed Harry terribly.

She wanted to call him–– just a brief conversation to see if he was doing okay. He mentioned when they last saw each other nearly two weeks prior that he was going to be very busy in the coming days, and she wondered if he still was. Harry told Y/N that he loved his job (of course he did!), but being so busy sometimes really hurt him. Not just mentally, but physically as well.

She longed for him.

Y/N searched through her call list for Harry’s number and immediately tapped it, listening closely as it rang. She was about to end the call in defeat when Harry answered at the last moment.

“Hello?” He sounded tired, under the weather.

“Harry,” Y/N begins. “I haven’t heard from you in a bit and I just wanted to see if all was well. How do you feel?”

“Hi Y/N,” Harry perks up slightly, but he still sounds a bit congested. “‘M not sure if you can tell from m’voice, but I’ve got a cold.”

Although Y/N wishes with every fiber of her being that she could rid Harry of his cold, she cannot. However, she can make sure all is well with his mind.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she pauses for a moment as she usually does, hoping Harry can tell how sincere she’s being on the other end. “How do you feel though? Are you still feeling happy?”

“Jus’ feelin’ not the greatest again. I’ve been stuck in my house with this fuckin’ cold and haven’t seen anyone in days.”

“I can come over.” Y/N doesn’t think twice before offering. If he had to suffer physically, she at least wanted him to feel okay mentally.

“I don’t want to get you sick. It’s okay–”

“I don’t mind, really. I’ll keep you company.”

Harry doesn’t say anything and Y/N’s sure she must’ve creeped him out. They don’t even know each other well and here she was offering to come over to his home and keep him company while he was sick. She’s about to rescind her offer when he lets out a loud sigh.

“My manager might kill me if he finds out I did this… but sure, let me give you my address.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

As soon as Harry got off the phone, he sprung into action. His home was a mess. There were crumpled up tissues all over the floor beside his bed, a sink full of dishes, and he’s pretty sure every bathroom in his house was a mess. He opted to not have anyone over to clean up after him as he didn’t want to risk getting anyone sick and man did it show.

He quickly gathered up all the tissues and threw them into the bin in the corner of his bedroom, surveying the rest of the mess before deciding he and Y/N wouldn’t be spending time in there, anyway. He was going to focus on the mess downstairs, instead. He loaded his dishwasher and record time and used disinfectant wipes on every surface he could in the kitchen, dining room, and living room. He then surveyed the bathrooms and cleaned the one with the least amount of mess, closing the doors to the other ones. He would worry about those some other time.

Harry was nervous to have Y/N over. He was just nervous to be around her in general. He missed her over the past couple of weeks but he opted out of contacting her, terrified that he was a bother. After Harry finished cleaning in record time, it dawned on him that he didn’t really have any food prepared to offer Y/N. If she was coming over to his house just to cheer him up, the least he could do was offer her something to eat. Harry hated doing things like this, but he was desperate. He texted his assistant and asked if they could drop off some food from the Greek place he and Y/N liked, making a mental note to find out what other places she enjoyed eating at for next time.

Y/N gets to his house much sooner than he was anticipating.

He rushes to his front door, looking through the peephole before opening the door. Y/N has a big smile on her face and looks absolutely gorgeous, as she usually does. She has a huge water bottle in one hand and a tote bag with the phases of the moon slung over her shoulder. He’s never seen it before and thinks it’s lovely.

“Hi,” Harry says breathlessly. “Thanks for coming. Uh, come in please.”

Y/N smiles and takes a small step forward, crossing the threshold of Harry’s home. She thought it was incredible–– and rather clean. “What can I do to help?”

Harry was getting used to Y/N’s straightforward approach to things, so he’s not phased by her question. “Jus’ you bein’ here is great, honestly.”

Y/N can see that Harry’s aura is that deep indigo that she’s not fond of, but she wonders if he can work through it himself before she steps in. “So it’s just your cold that’s got you feeling down? Can we sit down and talk about it?”

“Sure. Also, not sure if you’ve eaten yet or not but I’m gettin’ some food dropped off for us.”

“That sounds great, I haven’t had dinner yet so thank you. Can we sit?” Y/N doesn’t wait for Harry to answer. She makes her way to his plush couch in the adjoining room, walking through the place like she’s been there before. Harry loves it.

“I think I told you the gist of it on the phone earlier,” Harry says, settling onto the couch beside her. He leaves some space in between them since he doesn’t want to risk getting her sick, but he wishes he was closer to her. “I’ve been feelin’ down ‘cause I’ve been stuck in the house with this cold. S’not fun.” Y/N hums in understanding. Harry notices that she reaches out her hand to him slightly and then quickly retracts it, but he doesn’t mention it. Y/N says nothing, just continues looking inquisitively at him. Harry doesn’t feel uncomfortable under her gaze–– he stares back.

“Something’s making you feel nervous. What is it?”

Harry isn’t surprised that she was able to figure out there was more to what he was feeling than just loneliness. How was he supposed to tell Y/N that she was the reason for his nervousness, though?

“It’s nothing. I promise.”

“I don’t think so.”

Harry scratches the back of his neck nervously. “How are you so good at reading me? S’like you’re inside my brain, Y/N.” He lets out a little chuckle after saying this but quickly stops when he realizes Y/N isn’t laughing along with him.

“You’re just easy to read,” she cooly responds after a second. “Why are you so nervous? Do you have something coming up for work?”

“Not really…”

“Then what is it? Something going on with someone in your family?”

Harry was quickly realizing Y/N wouldn’t drop this unless Harry gave her an answer. He silently hopes for the best before answering her.

“It’s you,” he mumbles, shifting around uncomfortably on his couch. “You make me nervous.” Y/N watches as his aura changes from red and blue to pink, and his cheeks flush slightly.

“Why do I make you nervous?”

“You just do.”

“Why? Have I done something to hurt you?”

Y/N was so painfully oblivious that it was cute. Harry was quickly realizing that his heart doubled in size every time he talked to her.

“No. Quite the opposite, actually,” Harry reaches in the pocket of his sweatpants for a tissue, facing away from her while he pauses to blow his nose. “You’re so… you’re jus’ very interesting. Mesmerizing, really.”

Y/N feels her skin heat up at Harry’s compliment. His aura is still shining pink, the brightest pink she’s ever seen since meeting him. She was sad to see there was still quite a bit of indigo and red, though. “Thank you. That’s very sweet of you.”

Before Y/N can stop herself, she reaches out to grab Harry’s hand. Immediately she feels his energy transfer to her and without thinking, Y/N flicks her finger out of force of habit. The beautifully potted Pothos that Harry has sitting on his television stand instantly droops, leaves turning brown and wilted.

Harry’s completely perplexed.

The first thing he notices is that he’s feeling better. Great, even. He feels as good as he felt after the interaction he had with Y/N in the Greek food place all those weeks ago. The next thing he notices is that his gorgeous Pothos, a plant that is nearly impossible to kill, is dead.

And it was all Y/N’s doing.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

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