#peeling oranges as a love language fucks me up

[swagvo1d]

i want to share an orange with you, lovingly, tenderly

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

katsuki’s masterlist ♡ !

lil blurbs ! ( i'm just talkin'):

katsuki likes to make you laugh

katsuki's love language

katsuki is so dramatic

katsuki likes to bite you

childhood bodyguard! katsuki

katsuki x popstar! reader

katsuki is fun to mess with

katsuki really likes the way you smell

hockey player! bakugou

sleepy kisses w katsuki

katsuki and compliments

katsuki doesn't give a fuck

goodnight kiss (or the one where katsuki isn’t good at asking for, well…anything.)

suck up katsuki

could've fooled me ( or the one where you peel your orange yourself and katsuki is not happy)

katsuki and your naps (or the one where katsuki hates kaminari)

katsuki is a big baby

katsuki and (non sexual) hickies ! more !

no good thief ! (or the one where katsuki finds out who’s been stealing his clothes)

sleeping on the couch

katsuki and petnames…kinda

katsuki in a suit

katsuki is dramatic again (or the one where katsuki isn’t worried..really.)

katsuki and ice cream

katsuki and changing

katsuki doesn't give a fuck, again !

your almost boyfriend katsuki

baby suki

katsuki accidentally hurts you

the outside world

katsuki and goodbye kisses

katsuki and i miss you's

katsuki's scarf

katsuki the comedian

katsuki and your birthday

katsuki texting hcs !

crybaby katsuki

lil fics ! ( i ramble a little longer) :

katsuki is in trouble

katsuki's extra clingy when he's sleepy

from the start (or the one where you've been katsuki's for as long as you can remember)

you are not the father ! (or watching the maury show with katsuki)

katsuki hates seeing you cry

unchanged apologies (or the one where katsuki's childhood habits remains the same)

fire-breathing roommate chronicles (or living w dragon bkg)

baking cookies with katsuki

can't love anyone more than you

katsuki can't say no to you (not that he wants to) (or the one where katsuki takes care of you after you get drunk) part two !

déjà vu : ( or the one where katsuki thinks about you) bnha manga spoilers !!

the bet (or the one where your classmates make a bet.)

this night has opened my eyes (or the one where katsuki cleans up your injuries)

valentine's day troubles (or the one where katsuki's friends help him out for valentines day )

boyfriend for sale ! (or the one where your boyfriend forgets to ask you to be his valentine) feat. shoto todoroki !

ewww, katsu's got cooties ! (or the one where katsuki is too cool for cooties)

two of hearts (or the one where katsuki wakes up) bnha manga spoilers !!

31 days (or the one where katsuki surprises you)

habits (or little habits katsuki's developed ever since he's met you) slight bnha manga spoilers !!

while i search for the way to your world, leave a mark on your way (or the one where katsuki has his first real fight with you)

jealous, jealous, jealous girl ! (or the one where your boyfriend gets too much attention)

half return (or the one where katsuki decides to go home for the weekend and brings you with him) bnha manga spoilers !!

black coffee (or the one where katsuki hates it)

power outage (or the one where katsuki always lights up the way for you)

sick days (or the one where katsuki takes care of you when you’re sick)

operation : trouble in paradise ! (or the one where katsuki tries to get his bf privileges back)

memory box (or the one where you take katsuki on a trip down memory lane)

tell me why..your hands are cold (or the one where katsuki is definitely better than the heater)

longer fics / mini series ! ( get comfy 'cuz this one's a multi-parter !) :

♡ fire-breathing roommate chronicles !♡ when an injured, mysterious, and incredibly handsome dragon man blasts through the wall of your apartment, you decide to let him stay with you until he's fully healed. despite the struggles of co-habitating with a mythical beast, his mysterious past and annoyingly sharp tongue, you find you can't help feeling drawn to him..

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

ring pop proposal ♡ 1 2 3 ♡ the three times where mitsuki realizes that her katsuki is in love with you (and she realizes you love him back)

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

an explosive birthday (collab event for the days leading up to katsuki's birthday !) see masterlist

shadows of affection : orphaned at a young age, katsuki knows nothing but endless violence and the feeling of his bruised and bloody knuckles. until he gets taken in by a mob boss and is tasked to become his daughter's bodyguard..

and then some more ! ( extra's !)

the morning after : katsuki confronts you about what you told him the night you got drunk

♡ fire-breathing boyfriend chronicles ! ♡ some short ‘n sweet little extra’s following the events of fbrc starring our favorite now dragon boyfriend bakugou !

♡ ring pops, chocolates proposals ! ♡ katsuki loves you throughout the years.

[peavhyshy]

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - BACK TO YOU

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ jj maybank ⋆ ex!pogue!reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which you return to the island after moving away and have to confront unresolved feelings and changes in the friend group.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language, angst, hurt/comfort, smut, fluff, drama, mention of past self-harm, mention of past suicide attempt, mention of depression/mental health issues, alcohol abuse, unresolved emotional/romantic tension, trauma, mention of parental abuse/neglect, emotional cheating, jj is dating kiara, pretend luke didn’t leave, tw: surf competition, reconciliation, emotional vulnerability, unprotected vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dirty talk, praise, teasing, power play, and overstimulation (please dni if your sensitive to any of these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 19,166

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ this is long and very emotional/dramatic which is half of the reason it's been sitting in drafts forever. this was only written because I just love the song and wanted something based on it.

⋆.˚✮back to you✮˚.⋆

(༝༚༝༚ selena gomez)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──. Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

JJ stands awkwardly by the cooler, his fingers drumming against the metal surface as he watches you grab another case of beer. The setting sun casts long shadows across John B's backyard, painting everything in hues of orange and pink. The salty breeze carries the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore, mixing with the muffled laughter and music inside the house. He can't help but steal glances at you, memories of your past flooding his mind like an unwanted tide.

"So uh..." JJ clears his throat, adjusting his shark tooth necklace nervously. "How was... wherever the fuck you went?" He tries to maintain his usual carefree demeanor, but an edge to his voice betrays his discomfort. His blue eyes dart between you and the ground, unable to maintain steady eye contact. The weight of your unspoken history hangs heavy between you, thicker than the humid Carolina evening.

You stand awkwardly, your fingers nervously playing with the label of your beer bottle. You avoid JJ's gaze, focusing instead on the peeling paint of John B's deck railing. The tension between you two is suffocating, making the humid evening air feel even heavier. "Maine," you finally answer, your voice barely above a whisper. "We went to Maine."

JJ's jaw tightens at the mention of Maine, his fingers flexing around his beer bottle as he processes just how far away you’ve been. "Maine? Fuck, that's like... way up there with all those lobsters and shit," he says, trying to maintain his usual lighthearted tone but failing miserably. 

"You look..." He starts, then stops himself, shoving his free hand into the pocket of his board shorts. "I mean, it's good you're back and shit. The group missed you." He deliberately leaves out the fact that he missed you too, that your absence left a void that even Kiara couldn't quite fill. The tension between you is palpable, like the electricity in the air before a storm - something the Outer Banks knows all too well. He takes a long pull from his beer, using it as an excuse to break the uncomfortable silence that's settled between you.

You take a long sip from your bottle, using the moment to gather your thoughts. The sight of JJ - still as handsome as ever with his messy blonde hair and those blue eyes - makes your heartache in a way you thought you’d gotten over. The sound of Kiara's laughter from inside feels like a knife twisting in your gut. "I see you and Kie finally..." you trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Your skin glows in the porch light.

"Yeah, me and Kie..." he trails off, taking another long pull from his beer to avoid finishing the sentence. The truth is, things with Kiara are good - great even - but standing here with you brings back all the complicated feelings he'd tried to bury in the sand. 

"The group seems... good," you manage, trying to keep your voice steady. "Different, but good." You risk a glance at JJ, immediately regretting it when you catch his eyes. Those same eyes that used to look at you with such intensity, now belong to someone else. You shift your weight, your sundress rustling softly in the evening breeze. 

A loud crash from inside the house makes you both jump causing you to spill a bit of beer on your dress, followed by John B's distinctive "Everything's fine!" JJ lets out a forced laugh, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He's hyper-aware of every movement you make, every shift in your posture, every breath you take. The familiar scent of your perfume mixed with the salt air brings back memories he's tried so hard to suppress - stolen kisses behind the Wreck, late-night surfing sessions, promises made and broken. He adjusts his stance, trying to maintain a careful distance between you, even as every fiber of his being wants to close it.

"Shit," you mutter, dabbing at the spot with your free hand. You can feel JJ's presence just a few feet away, and it takes everything in you not to close that distance. "I should've called or something," you say suddenly, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. "Before I left, I mean. I just... I couldn't." Your voice cracks slightly on the last word, betraying the emotions you're trying so hard to keep in check.

The raw honesty in your voice, when you mention not calling, makes his throat tight. "Yeah, well..." JJ runs a hand through his hair again, his shark tooth necklace catching the light as he moves. "Probably wouldn't have answered anyway. Was pretty fucked up back then." He lets out a laugh, but there's pain behind it. "Still am, just better at hiding it now." The admission hangs between you like smoke, heavy and suffocating. He can hear Sarah and John B singing off-key inside, the sound a stark contrast to the tension-filled bubble you're standing in.

He watches as you dab at the beer stain on your dress, fighting the urge to help you like he would have before. "Fuck, hold up," he mutters, pulling off his worn t-shirt and offering it to you without thinking. The porch light illuminates the scattered bruises across his torso - some new, some old ones you’d recognize.

You stand there, your heart racing as you stare at JJ's shirtless form. You reach out hesitant to take his shirt, your fingers brushing briefly in a way that sends electricity through your entire body. "Thanks," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. 

"You look good though," he finally says, the words escaping before he can stop them. His eyes meet yours for a moment before quickly looking away. "I mean, like, healthy and shit. That's... that's good." He shifts uncomfortably, very aware that he's still shirtless and that the space between you feels both too large and not large enough. The familiar scent of your perfume is making his head spin, or maybe it's the beer, or maybe it's just you - it's always been you. "Did it help?" he asks quietly, genuinely wanting to know. "Going away? Did it... fix things?" The question carries more weight than he intends, loaded with all the things he never got to say before you left.

The sound of Kiara's laughter drifts out again, and you flinches visibly. You take another long drink from your beer, needing the liquid courage. "It helped," you finally answer his question, unconsciously running your fingers over the faded scars on your wrists. "The doctors, the therapy, the distance... It helped. But it didn't fix everything." You look up at him then, really look at him, taking in how the years have changed him. He's still JJ - still beautiful but there's something harder in his eyes now, something that wasn't there before.

You clutch his shirt in your hands, the familiar scent of him - salt air, coconut surf wax, and something distinctly JJ - making you dizzy with memories. "I..." you start, then swallow hard. "I wanted to call. Every single day, I picked up my phone and stared at your number until the screen went black."

"I missed you," You confess quietly, immediately regretting the words as soon as they leave your mouth. "I mean, I missed everyone," you quickly add, but you both know it's not the same thing. You can feel the weight of everything unsaid between you, three years' worth of words you never got to say. "You look happy," you say, trying to smile even though it feels like your heart is breaking all over again. "With Kie, I mean. You guys... you make sense together." The lie tastes bitter on your tongue, but you force it out anyway. Because what else can you say? That seeing them together feels like drowning? That every time you close your eyes, you still see him? That Maine might have helped you heal your mind, but it did nothing to heal your heart? 

A burst of laughter from inside makes him jump, reminding him where you are and who's waiting for him. "Happy?" he scoffs, the word tasting like ash in his mouth. "Yeah, sure. I'm fucking peachy." His sarcasm is sharp enough to cut, a defense mechanism he's perfected over the years. He takes another long drink from his beer, finishing it in one go before setting it down with more force than necessary. "And don't do that shit about me and Kie making sense. You don't get to..." he stops himself again, running a hand over his face.

"Fuck, Y/N/N," JJ breathes out, using your old nickname without thinking. His fingers twitch at his sides, wanting to reach for you but knowing he can't. The sight of you touching your wrist scars makes his stomach turn - he remembers the day he found you, remembers the blood, remembers feeling more terrified than he'd ever been in his life.

"You can't just come back here and say shit like that," he says, his voice rough with emotion. He runs both hands through his hair in frustration, pacing a small circle on the deck. "You left, Y/N. You fucking left and I..." he trails off, the rest of the sentence dying in his throat. The memory of those first few weeks, after you disappeared, hits him like a physical blow - the drinking, the fights, the reckless behavior that even John B couldn't talk him down from.

"I didn't want to leave, JJ," You say, taking a step closer to him despite yourself. The electricity between you is almost tangible now. "You think I wanted to be shipped off to fucking Maine? To be locked up in some facility where they watched my every move? Where they made me talk about every fucking thing that was wrong with me?" Your voice rises slightly before you catch yourself, glancing nervously at the house. "I was drowning here, JJ. I was drowning and I couldn't..." 

"You know what? Fuck this," JJ says suddenly, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and something else - something that looks dangerously close to the way he used to look at you. "You want to know what happened after you left? I fucking lost it, Y/N. I was so fucked up I couldn't even..." he cuts himself off, aware he's saying too much. The space between you feels charged with electricity, like the air before a storm. 

"But hey, at least the doctors fixed you up real nice, right?" The words are meant to sting, but there's a tremor in his voice that betrays him. He's still that same boy who used to sneak into your room at night, who used to hold you when the darkness got too heavy, who promised he'd always be there - until you made it impossible to keep that promise.’ "You know what's fucked up?" he says with a bitter laugh, his eyes intense as they lock onto yours. "I used to check your social media every fucking day. Every. Day. Just to make sure you were still..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. 

Your hands tremble as you clutch his shirt tighter, his familiar scent making your head spin. "Lost it?" You repeat, your voice cracking. "You think you were the only one who lost it?" The words come out sharper than intended, years of buried pain rising to the surface. Your skin flushes with anger and hurt, your eyes glistening with unshed tears. The bitterness in his voice when he mentions the doctors makes you flinch. "Fixed me up real nice?" You repeat, a hollow laugh escaping your lips. "Is that what you think? That I'm all better now? That I just went away and came back brand new?" You move closer still, close enough to see the flecks of darker blue in his eyes, close enough to smell the beer on his breath. "I still have nightmares. I still get days where I can barely get out of bed. The only difference is now I have better coping mechanisms than..." 

His confession about checking your social media makes your heart stutter in your chest. "I deactivated everything," you admit quietly, your voice thick with emotion. "Because every time I logged on, all I wanted to do was message you. Tell you I was sorry. Tell you I..." you stop yourself, very aware of how close you're standing now, of the fact that he's still shirtless, of Kiara just inside the house. "It doesn't matter now, does it?" You say, taking a step back, trying to create some distance between you even though every cell in your body screams to move closer. "You moved on. You're happy. That's... that's good." The lie tastes like poison on your tongue, but you force it out anyway, because what right do you have to come back here and disrupt his life? What right do you have to still want him this much?

JJ's body tenses as Pope's voice cuts through the charged atmosphere. "What’s taking so long with those beers? John B's about to start drinking mouthwash if we don't..." Pope trails off as he steps onto the deck, his eyes darting between JJ's shirtless form and you holding the said shirt. "Oh shit, my bad, I didn't..." he starts, but JJ cuts him off with a sharp laugh that sounds more like a bark.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Pope," JJ says, his voice carrying an edge that makes Pope raise his eyebrows. JJ snatches up the case of beer from the cooler, his movements jerky and aggressive. "Just catching up with our prodigal pogue here. Sharing war stories about her fancy fucking therapy in Maine." The words come out dripping with sarcasm, but there's a tremor in his hands as he grips the beer case. The porch light catches the tension in his jaw, the way his muscles are coiled tight like he's ready to either fight or flee.

"JJ," Pope says warningly, recognizing the signs of his friend spiraling. He's seen this before - usually right before JJ does something spectacularly stupid. "Maybe we should all just-" But JJ's already moving, shouldering past both of them towards the house. He pauses at the door, his back to you, his knuckles white around the beer case. "You know what the fucked up part is?" he says, not turning around. "I actually thought..." he stops, letting out a bitter laugh. "Doesn't matter what I thought. Welcome home, Y/N. Hope Maine was worth it."

Pope watches JJ disappear inside before turning to you with an apologetic look. "He was really messed up when you left," he says quietly, always the mediator. "Like, more than usual messed up. Started getting into fights with Topper almost daily, drinking more than his dad. Kiara was the only one who could calm him down sometimes." He runs a hand over his face, looking tired. "Look, I know it's not my place, but... maybe give him some time? He's better now, but seeing you again..." Pope glances at the door where you can hear JJ's forced laughter mixing with the others. "It's like reopening an old wound, you know?"

You stare at the door JJ just disappeared through, your heart feeling like it's being ripped apart all over again. His shirt is still clutched in your trembling hands, and you bring it unconsciously closer to your chest. You can feel tears threatening to spill over. "Time?" You repeat Pope's words with a hollow laugh. "Yeah, because three years wasn't enough time, right?" Your voice cracks on the last word, and you have to take a deep breath to steady yourself.

"In Maine, they made us write letters. Letters to everyone we hurt, everyone who hurt us. I wrote so many letters to JJ that they had to give me extra paper." You let out a shaky breath, running your fingers over the soft fabric of JJ's shirt. "Never sent a single one. How do you put three years of 'I'm sorry' and 'I miss you' and 'I still...' into words that don't sound completely fucking pathetic?"

The sound of breaking glass comes from inside, followed by Kiara's concerned "JJ?" Pope closes his eyes and sighs. "And there it is. I better..." he gestures towards the house. "You coming?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of everything that's just transpired.

The sound of Kiara's concerned voice calling for JJ makes your stomach twist painfully. "You should go check on him," you say to Pope, finally looking up. Your eyes are swimming with unshed tears, but you refuse to let them fall. "I'll... I'll be in in a minute. Just need to..." You gesture vaguely at yourself, trying to pull together the pieces of your composure that JJ's words had shattered. "And Pope?" You call as he turns to leave. "I know everyone probably hates me for leaving. Hell, I hate myself for it. But I didn't have a choice. It was either leave or..." 

You can hear more commotion from inside - JJ's voice raised, something else breaking, Kiara trying to calm him down. The sound makes your chest ache in a way that feels physical. "Fuck," you whisper to yourself, looking down at JJ's shirt still in your hands. You bring it to your face, inhaling his scent one last time before forcing yourself to fold it neatly. You’ll have to give it back eventually, but right now, you need a moment to remember how to breathe without feeling like you’re drowning all over again. The irony isn't lost on you - you left the Outer Banks to stop feeling like you were drowning, only to come back and find yourself deeper underwater than ever before.

The tension in living room is thick enough to cut with a knife as you enter. JJ is sprawled on the couch next to Kiara, his arm draped possessively around her shoulders while nursing what appears to be his fifth beer. There's broken glass by the kitchen counter that Sarah's carefully sweeping up, shooting concerned glances at everyone.

"So this competition tomorrow," John B says too loudly, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. "Heard Topper's entering too." He's sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at the label of his beer bottle. "Gonna be some sick waves though, bro. Weather report's saying six-footers at least."

JJ snorts, his blue eyes deliberately avoiding your direction. "Yeah, well, Topper can suck my-" Kiara elbows him in the ribs, cutting him off. "What? I'm just saying the trust fund baby probably can't even tell the difference between the nose and tail of his board." His words are slightly slurred, with anger and alcohol making his voice thicker.

"Actually," Sarah pipes up from the kitchen, dumping the broken glass in the trash, "I heard he's been practicing a lot." She settles onto the arm of John B's chair, her blonde hair catching the dim light. "Something about wanting to prove himself or whatever."

Pope shifts slightly as you sit next to him, creating a protective barrier between you and JJ. "You still surf, Y/N?" he asks, trying to include you in the conversation. "Remember that time you totally schooled JJ on that left break by the pier?"

"Fuck off, Pope," JJ snaps, his grip tightening on his beer bottle. "That was one time, and I was hungover as shit." Kiara places a calming hand on his thigh, but he shrugs it off, standing up abruptly. "I need another beer."

"Maybe you should slow down," Kiara suggests gently, reaching for his hand. "The competition's early tomorrow and-"

"I said I need another fucking beer," JJ cuts her off, his voice sharp. He stalks toward the kitchen, purposely taking the long way around to avoid passing near you. "And for the record," he adds, pausing in the doorway, "that left break? I let her win. Figured she needed the ego boost since she was so fucking fragile back then." The words are meant to wound, and from the way you tense beside him, Pope can tell they hit their mark.

John B stands up, running a hand through his hair. "JJ, bro, come on-"

"What?" JJ whirls around, his eyes blazing. "We all just gonna pretend like everything's normal? Like she didn't just fuck off for three years and come waltzing back expecting everything to be the same?" He lets out a bitter laugh. "Nah, I'm good. You guys can play happy fucking family without me."

The room falls into a heavy silence after JJ's outburst. Sarah is the first to speak, her voice gentle but firm. "JJ, that's enough." She moves from her perch on John B's chair, positioning herself between JJ and the rest of the group.

Your hands are shaking as you stand up, your voice quiet but steady. "You want to do this now? Fine." You take a step forward, ignoring Pope's attempt to grab your arm. "You think you're the only one who was hurt? You think you're the only one who was fucked up?" Your voice rises slightly, years of pent-up emotion breaking through. "I didn't just 'fuck off' to Maine for fun, JJ. I went because the alternative was being lowered into the ground in a fucking coffin!"

Kiara stands up too, torn between her boyfriend and her old friend. "Y/N, maybe we should-"

"No, Kie," you cut her off, your eyes locked on JJ. "He wants to talk about being fragile? About letting me win? At least I'm trying to get better. What are you doing, JJ? Getting drunk and picking fights? Real fucking healthy."

John B moves to intervene, but Pope holds him back, shaking his head. This has been brewing since the moment you walked through the door.

"You know what the difference is between us?" You continue, your voice cracking. "I admit I'm broken. I went and got help because I was tired of hurting everyone around me. But you?" You let out a hollow laugh. "You're still that same scared little boy, hiding behind your anger and your booze because god forbid anyone see that you're hurting too. You’re acting just like your daddy.” 

The moment the words leave your mouth, the room erupts into chaos. JJ's beer bottle shatters in his hand as he lunges forward. "Don't you fucking DARE!" as John B and Pope rush to grab him. His muscles strain against their hold. "You don't get to say that shit! You don't get to fucking compare me to him!"

"JJ, stop!" Kiara shouts, but he's beyond hearing. His blue eyes are wild, unfocused, filled with a pain so deep it makes everyone in the room flinch. "You want to talk about being broken?" JJ spits, still fighting against John B and Pope's restraining arms. "At least I didn't run away! At least I stayed and faced my shit instead of leaving everyone wondering if you were even fucking alive!" His voice cracks on the last word, raw emotion bleeding through the anger. "Do you know how many times I drove by your house? How many nights I sat outside your window hoping you'd just... fuck!" 

 "Where the fuck was all this concern for mental health when I was showing up at your window covered in bruises? When I was sleeping on the beach because I was too scared to go home?" Blood continues to drip from his hand, creating a small puddle on the floor.

"You know what's really fucking funny?" JJ continues, his voice cracking. "The day you left? I was gonna tell you everything. About my dad, about how fucked up I was, about how you were the only person who made me feel like maybe I wasn't completely worthless." His words are like bullets, each one aimed to hit where it hurts most.

"Bro, calm down," John B grunts, struggling to maintain his grip. "This isn't helping-"

"Helping?" JJ lets out a laugh that sounds more like a sob. "Nothing helps! Nothing fucking helps because she LEFT!" He finally breaks free, stumbling forward but not advancing towards you. Instead, he stands there, chest heaving, looking more vulnerable than any of them has ever seen him. "You left," he repeats, quieter now, his voice thick with unshed tears. "You left and I couldn't... I couldn't fucking breathe. And now you're back and I still can't breathe and I..." He runs his hands through his hair violently, turning away from everyone.

Pope steps forward cautiously. "JJ, maybe we should-"

"Don't," JJ cuts him off, his voice dangerous again. "Just... don't." He grabs his keys from the counter, ignoring Kiara's protests. "I need to get the fuck out of here before I..." He doesn't finish the sentence, just storms out, the screen door slamming behind him. The sound of his motorcycle roaring to life fills the night air moments later.

The room falls into a heavy silence after JJ's dramatic exit. You stand frozen, your whole body trembling as tears finally spill down your cheeks. Sarah is the first to move, wrapping her arms around you as you begin to sob.

"I didn't mean..." you choke out between sobs. "I didn't mean to say that about his dad. I just... I was so angry and..." You collapse onto the couch, Sarah still holding you while Kiara paces anxiously by the door.

"Someone needs to go after him," Kiara says, grabbing her jacket. "He's drunk and upset, he shouldn't be on that bike." She looks torn between staying with you and chasing after her boyfriend.

John B runs a hand through his hair, exchanging worried looks with Pope. "I'll go," he says, grabbing his keys. "Pope, you stay here with them. Sarah, can you...?" He gestures at you, who's still crying into Sarah's shoulder.

"I got her," Sarah assures him. "Just... bring him back in one piece, okay?"

Pope starts cleaning up the broken glass, his movements careful and methodical. "You know," he says quietly, "JJ never told anyone this, but he used to sleep in your treehouse after you left. We'd find him up there some mornings, usually after really bad nights with his dad."

"He kept your bracelet too," Kiara adds softly, still hovering by the door. "The one you made him at that bonfire. Wears it under his watch sometimes." She pauses, conflict clear on her face. "I should go with John B-"

"No," you say, wiping your eyes. "Stay. Please. I... I need to tell you all something. About why I really left." You take a shaky breath, looking around at your friends - the family you left behind. "It wasn't just the self-harm or the suicide attempt. There was... there was more. And JJ... he deserves to know the truth. You all do."

Sarah squeezes your hand encouragingly while Pope settles on the floor in front of you. The sound of the Twinkie starting up outside fills the momentary silence.

"Take your time," Sarah says gently. "We're listening." 

John B finds JJ at their usual spot - the abandoned dock near the marsh where they used to fish as kids. JJ's sitting at the edge, legs dangling over the water, a fresh beer in his hand that he definitely grabbed from his emergency stash hidden in the old boat nearby. His motorcycle is parked haphazardly in the grass, still ticking as it cools down.

"Figured I'd find you here," John B says, settling down next to his best friend. The moonlight reflects off the water, casting everything in a silvery glow. "That was quite a show back there, bro."

JJ takes a long pull from his beer, his knuckles still bloody from the broken bottle. "Fuck off, John B," he mutters, but there's no real heat behind it. His hands are shaking slightly as he brings the bottle back to his lips. "I don't need another fucking lecture about controlling my temper or whatever shit you're about to say."

"Actually," John B says, pulling out two fresh beers from his pocket and handing one to JJ, "I was gonna say she had no right bringing up your dad." He cracks open his beer, the sound echoing across the quiet marsh. "That was fucked up."

JJ lets out a hollow laugh, running his uninjured hand through his messy hair. "You know what's fucked up? She's right." His voice cracks slightly. "I am turning into him. Getting drunk, breaking shit, can't control my fucking temper..." He throws his empty bottle into the water with force, watching it disappear beneath the dark surface.

"Nah, man," John B shakes his head firmly. "You're nothing like Luke. You know how I know?" He waits until JJ looks at him. "Because you care. Like, actually give a shit about people. Luke never did." He pauses, choosing his next words carefully. "And you loved her. Still do, probably."

"Doesn't fucking matter now, does it?" JJ's voice is rough with emotion. "I'm with Kie. And Y/N... she's..." he trails off, unable to finish the sentence. The crickets chirp in the silence that follows, the marsh grass swaying in the gentle breeze.

"You know," John B says after a while, "Kie knows. Has known for a while, I think. About how you feel about Y/N." He takes another sip of his beer. "Maybe that's why she's been so... I don't know, different lately?"

JJ's head snaps up, his blue eyes wide in the moonlight. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Come on, bro," John B sighs. "You've been wearing that bracelet under your watch since the day Y/N left. You sleep in her old treehouse when shit gets bad. And the way you looked at her tonight... that wasn't just anger, man."

JJ stares out at the dark water, his jaw working as he processes John B's words. "It's not..." he starts, then stops, taking a long drink. "Fuck, man." The moonlight catches the silver threads in his shark tooth necklace as he shifts uncomfortably. "You can't just say shit like that about me and Kie."

"Why not?" John B presses, watching his best friend carefully. "Because it's true? Because you've been trying so hard to convince yourself that what you have with Kie is enough?" He dodges the empty beer can JJ throws at his head with practiced ease. "I love Kie, man. We all do. But she deserves better than being someone's second choice."

"You think I don't know that?" JJ explodes, jumping to his feet. He paces the dock, his shoes making the old wood creak. "You think I don't fucking hate myself for it? For not being able to..." he trails off, running both hands through his hair in frustration. "Y/N left, John B. She fucking left without a word and Kie... Kie was there. She picked up the pieces. She..."

"She's not Y/N," John B finishes quietly. The words hang in the humid night air, heavy with truth. "And that's not fair to any of you."

JJ stops pacing, bracing himself against one of the dock posts. His knuckles are white where they grip the wood, blood from his earlier injury leaving dark smears. "You should've seen her that night," he says so quietly John B almost misses it. "The night before she left. She came to my window like she always did when shit got bad. But something was different. She wouldn't look at me, wouldn't let me touch her. Just kept saying she was sorry." His voice cracks. "I should've known. Should've fucking done something."

"JJ..." John B starts, but JJ cuts him off.

"And now she's back," he continues, his voice rough. "She's back and she's wearing that fucking perfume that makes my head spin, and she's got these new scars I don't know the stories too, and she's looking at me like... like..." He slams his fist into the post, adding fresh splinters to his already injured hand. "Like I'm still that stupid kid who couldn't save her. How I didn't see how bad it was getting. How I was so caught up in my shit with my dad that I missed all the signs." He runs his hands through his hair roughly. "And you know what the worst part is? Even after everything, even with Kie... I still..." He can't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to.

The marsh is quiet except for the gentle lapping of water against the dock and the distant sound of a boat horn. John B watches as his best friend falls apart, knowing there's nothing he can say to make this better. "Maybe," he finally suggests, "you should talk to Kie. Like, really talk to her. And then..." he hesitates. "Maybe you should talk to Y/N too. About everything."

JJ lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah? And say what? 'Sorry, I just had a fucking meltdown in front of everyone because seeing you still makes me feel like I'm drowning'? 'Sorry, I'm such a fuck up I couldn't even move on properly'?" He slides down to sit on the dock again, his energy seemingly drained. "Nah, man. Some things are better left buried."

The two make their way to the van it rumbles down the dark road, headlights cutting through the night as John B glances worriedly at JJ in the passenger seat. JJ is slumped against the window, his breath fogging up the glass, the streetlights casting intermittent shadows across his face. His bloody knuckles rest in his lap, the makeshift bandage John B made from his t-shirt already soaking through.

"Your dad's been better lately, right?" John B asks cautiously, turning onto JJ's street. "Like, with the new job and everything?" He knows these periods of calm with Luke are temporary, like the eye of a hurricane - peaceful until it's not.

JJ lets out a laugh, his eyes still fixed on the passing shadows outside. "Yeah, for now. Give it a week, maybe two if we're lucky." His voice is tired, drained of its usual energy. "He's actually buying groceries instead of beer. Fucking miracle, right?" The sarcasm in his voice is thick enough to cut.

As they pull up to JJ's house, they can see Luke's truck in the driveway, the porch light on - a rare sight. Through the window, they can see him moving around in the kitchen, looking almost normal, almost like a real father. "You sure you don't want to crash at my place?" John B offers, killing the engine. "Sarah won't mind, and you know Pope's probably got Y/N calmed down by now..."

"Don't," JJ warns, his voice sharp. "Just... don't say her name right now, okay?" He runs his uninjured hand through his hair, a nervous habit that's become more frequent since your return. "I can't... I can't think about that shit right now. About what she said, about Kie, about..." he trails off, shaking his head.

The front door opens, and Luke steps onto the porch. "JJ? That you, son?" His voice carries across the yard, lacking its usual angry slur. "Got some leftovers if you're hungry. Made that fish you like." The attempt at normalcy is almost more unsettling than his usual violence.

"Fuck," JJ mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Look at him, playing father of the year." He grabs his backpack from the backseat, wincing as the movement jars his injured hand. "Thanks for the ride, bro. And for..." he gestures vaguely, encompassing everything that happened at the dock.

"JJ," John B calls as his friend opens the door. "Just... be careful, okay? And if shit goes south..." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. They both know JJ's always got a place at the Chateau.

"Yeah, yeah," JJ forces a grin that doesn't reach his eyes. "Save the emotional shit for Sarah, man." He slams the van door, shouldering his backpack as he heads toward the house. Each step feels heavy like he's walking through water. The weight of everything - your return, his relationship with Kiara, his dad's temporary stability - sits on his shoulders like a physical burden.

Luke's waiting at the door, and for once, his eyes are clear. "Rough night?" he asks, noticing JJ's bandaged hand. There's genuine concern in his voice, the kind that makes JJ's chest ache because he knows it won't last.

He follows his father into the house, the familiar scent of fried fish and something else - hope, maybe? - filling the air. The kitchen is cleaner than he's seen it in years, dishes are actually washed and put away, no empty bottles littering the counters. It's like walking into a funhouse mirror version of his life, everything familiar but slightly wrong.

"Sit," Luke gestures to the table, already moving to reheat the food. "Got paid today. Foreman says I'm doing good work." There's pride in his voice, the kind JJ used to dream of hearing when he was younger. "Even got you something." He pulls out a small package from one of the kitchen drawers, sliding it across the table.

JJ stares at the package like it might bite him, his injured hand throbbing in rhythm with his heartbeat. "Dad, you didn't have to..." he starts, but Luke waves him off.

"Open it," Luke insists, putting a plate of steaming fish and rice in front of JJ. "Saw it at the store, thought of you." His voice is gruff with emotion he doesn't know how to express.

With trembling fingers, JJ unwraps the package. Inside is a new surf wax and a professional-grade fishing lure - the expensive kind they used to admire together in the shop window when JJ was little. "This is..." he swallows hard, something thick and painful lodging in his throat.

"For the competition tomorrow," Luke explains, sitting down across from him with his own plate. "Figured you could use some good gear." He pauses, studying JJ's face. "Your hand gonna be okay to surf?"

JJ flexes his fingers experimentally, wincing. "Yeah, it's fine. Just some scratches." He doesn't mention how he got them, and Luke doesn't ask. Some things are better left unsaid, even in this temporary peace.

They eat in relative silence, the only sounds are the scrape of forks against plates and the distant hum of crickets outside. JJ can't help but wait for the other shoe to drop, for his father to notice the alcohol on his breath, or ask why he came home so late. But Luke just keeps eating, occasionally glancing at JJ with something that looks almost like concern.

"Y/N’s back," Luke says suddenly, making JJ choke on his rice. "Saw her at the store today. She's grown up nice." He says it casually, like he doesn't know the weight those words carry like he doesn't remember the nights JJ came home drunk and broken after you left.

JJ's grip on his fork tightens, his knuckles white. "Dad..." he warns, but Luke continues.

"You know, I never told you this," Luke sets down his fork, his voice unusually serious. "But that girl... she used to come by sometimes when you were out. Would bring groceries, say she was just dropping off extras her mom bought." He lets out a dry laugh. "We both knew she was lying. She was checking on you, making sure I hadn't..." he trails off, shame coloring his voice.

The revelation hits JJ like a physical blow. He pushes back from the table, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I can't... I can't do this right now," he manages to say, his voice rough. "Thanks for dinner. And the..." he gestures at the gifts, unable to finish.

Luke nods, understanding in his eyes that hurts worse than any punch he's ever thrown. "Get some rest, son. Big day tomorrow." He watches as JJ practically flees to his room, the sound of his door closing echoing through the unusually quiet house.

In his room, JJ collapses onto his bed. The surf wax and lure sit on his nightstand, mocking him with their newness, their promise of a father he's always wanted but never quite had. He pulls out his phone, seeing missed calls from Kiara and texts from the group chat. But it's his wallpaper that catches his eye - still that old photo of him and you at the beach, your smile bright and real, his arm around your shoulders. He'd never changed it, not even after starting things with Kiara.

"Fuck," he whispers into the darkness, throwing his arm over his eyes. Tomorrow's competition suddenly seems like the least of his problems.

JJ is hunched over his surfboard on the front porch, a half-eaten piece of toast dangling from his mouth as he meticulously applies the new wax his father gave him. The morning sun casts long shadows across the worn wood of the porch, the air already thick with humidity. His injured hand throbs as he works, the makeshift bandage John B wrapped it in last night now stained and fraying.

The knock makes him jump, nearly dropping the wax block. "It's open!" he calls out, not looking up from his work. He knows it's Kiara before she even speaks - recognizes the pattern of her footsteps, the jingle of the shell anklet she always wears.

"Hey," Kiara's voice is soft and cautious. She's wearing her competition bikini under a loose tank top, her curly hair pulled back in a messy bun. "You weren't answering your phone." She settles down next to him on the porch steps, close but not touching - a careful distance that speaks volumes.

JJ continues working on his board, his movements perhaps more aggressive than necessary. "Yeah, well, been kind of busy." He gestures at the board with his injured hand, causing Kiara to suck in a sharp breath at the sight of his knuckles.

"Jesus, JJ," she reaches for his hand but he pulls away, standing up abruptly. "We need to talk about last night-"

"No," JJ cuts her off, running his good hand through his already messy hair. "We really don't. I fucked up, lost my temper, same old shit. Can we just..." he trails off, finally looking at her. The concern in her eyes makes his stomach twist with guilt.

Kiara stands too, crossing her arms. "Y/N told us everything last night," she says quietly. "After you left. About why she really went away." She watches as JJ's entire body tenses, his jaw clenching. "JJ, it wasn't just about the self-harm and the attempt. She was-"

"Stop," JJ's voice is sharp, dangerous. He turns away from her, gripping the porch railing so hard his knuckles turn white. "I don't want to know. I can't... I can't hear that shit right now. Not before the competition."

"You can't keep running from this," Kiara says, her voice stronger now. "And you can't keep pretending that what we have is..." she stops, taking a deep breath. "I see the way you look at her, JJ. I've always seen it. Even when you're angry at her, even when you're with me, you look at her like... like she's the sun and you're drowning in her light."

JJ lets out a bitter laugh, turning back to face her. "That's some poetic shit, Kie." But there's no humor in his voice, just pain and exhaustion. "What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? That I'm a fucking mess who can't get his shit together? That I-"

"I want you to be honest," Kiara interrupts. "With me, with yourself, with her." She steps closer, reaching up to touch his face gently. "We both knew this wasn't forever, JJ. We were just... holding each other together until something better came along."

"You deserve better than that," JJ says quietly, leaning into her touch despite himself. "Better than me using you as a bandaid for my fucked up heart."

Kiara smiles sadly. "Yeah, I do. And so do you." She drops her hand, stepping back. "The competition starts soon. Y/N’s entering too, by the way. JJ? She still wears that shell necklace you made her. Never took it off, even in Maine."

The information hits JJ like a physical blow, making him grip the railing tighter. The surf wax sits abandoned on his board, the morning sun turning it soft and sticky. JJ sighs heavily, sliding down to sit on the porch steps. The morning sun continues to rise, casting long shadows across the yard where weeds push through cracked concrete - a perfect metaphor for their relationship, beautiful things growing in broken places.

"You're not mad?" JJ asks finally, his voice rough. He picks at the fraying bandage on his hand, avoiding her eyes. "About... everything?"

Kiara lets out a soft laugh sitting back down next to him bumping his shoulder with hers. "I mean, I probably should be. But honestly?" She tilts her face toward the sun, closing her eyes. "I think I've known since the beginning. We were both just... trying to fill empty spaces."

JJ runs his good hand through his hair, a nervous habit he can't shake. "You're too good for this shit, Kie. Too good for me and my fucked up baggage." He glances at her sideways. "I never meant to hurt you."

"I know," Kiara says simply. "And hey, at least we had some good times, right?" She grins at him, that familiar sparkle in her eyes. "Like that time we got caught skinny dipping at the country club pool?"

"Fuck," JJ laughs despite himself, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Your dad's face when he found us... thought he was gonna have a stroke." The memory feels lighter now, less weighted with guilt.

They sit in comfortable silence for a moment. Finally, Kiara speaks again, her voice gentle but firm. "You need to talk to her, JJ. Like, really talk to her. No yelling, no running away."

JJ's jaw tightens. "Kie..."

"No, listen," she cuts him off. "What she told us last night... it changes things. And you deserve to know." She stands up, brushing off her shorts. "But first, you need to kick Topper's ass in this competition. Show him that pogues rule the waves, right?"

JJ looks up at her, gratitude and affection washing over him. "How are you so fucking cool about all this?"

Kiara shrugs, a small smile playing on her lips. "Because I love you both, you idiot. Just... not in the way we've been pretending." She starts walking backward toward her car. "See you at the beach. And JJ?" She pauses. "Whatever Y/N told us last night? It's not my story to tell. But when she does tell you... just remember she never stopped loving you either."

JJ watches her drive away, his heart feeling both lighter and heavier at the same time. He turns back to his surfboard, running his fingers over the fresh wax. The competition starts soon, and somewhere on that beach, you’ll be there. The thought makes his stomach flip in a way that has nothing to do with pre-competition nerves.

The beach is alive with pre-competition energy, the morning sun casting long shadows across the sand as spectators and competitors mill about. The group has claimed your usual spot, a patch of sand near the judges' stand where you're spread out with blankets and coolers. The air smells of salt spray and sunscreen, mixed with the distant scent of food vendors setting up their stalls.

JJ sits cross-legged next to Pope, obsessively checking the fins on his board while stealing glances at you. His injured hand is wrapped in fresh bandages - Pope's handiwork from earlier that morning. "You think the swell's gonna hold?" he asks Pope, his voice tighter than usual. "Weather report said it might pick up around noon."

"Dude, stop stressing," Pope replies, not looking up from his phone where he's tracking the wind patterns. "You could surf these waves in your sleep." He pauses, glancing at his friend. "Though maybe focus more on the waves and less on staring at Y/N every five seconds?"

A few feet away, Kiara and you sit huddled over your board, your heads close together as you work on the design. "Pass me the blue paint?" Kiara asks, her voice carefully casual. "I think it'll pop against the white."

"Here," You hand over the paint pen, your finger steady as you work on your own section of the board. "Thanks for helping me with this, Kie. I know it's... weird."

Sarah's voice carries over from where she's practically sitting in John B's lap, her laugh bright in the morning air. "John B, I swear to God, if you get any more sunscreen in my hair..." She squirms as he deliberately rubs more lotion on her neck.

"What? I'm being helpful!" John B protests, grinning. "Can't have my girl turning into a lobster." He catches JJ's eye and makes an exaggerated kissing face, earning himself a handful of sand thrown his way.

"Get a room, you two," Pope groans, but there's affection in his voice. "Some of us are trying to focus here."

"Yeah, focus on what?" JJ snaps, more harshly than intended. "The competition doesn't start for another hour." His eyes drift back to you, watching as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear - a gesture so familiar it makes his chest ache.

"Speaking of the competition," Sarah pipes up, clearly trying to diffuse the tension, "heard Topper's been practicing his aerial moves. Might actually give you a run for your money this time, JJ."

"Please," JJ scoffs, his trademark cockiness returning. "Trust fund baby probably had to pay someone to teach him which end of the board goes in front." But his bravado falters when he catches you hiding a smile at his comment.

"The waves are looking good though," you offer quietly, your first direct contribution to the group conversation. "Nice clean sets coming in." Your voice carries over the beach noise, making JJ's hands still on his board.

The group falls into a loaded silence, everyone pretending not to notice the way JJ and you carefully avoid looking at each other, or how Kiara's shoulders relax slightly when JJ doesn't snap back with a sarcastic comment.

"Alright, enough of this weird energy," Pope announces, standing up and brushing sand off his shorts. "Who wants to help me get drinks from the vendor? We've got..." he checks his watch, "forty-five minutes to get JJ properly hydrated before he has to show these kooks how it's done."

"Let me help," Sarah jumps up, linking her arm through Pope's. "John B, Y/N, you coming?" There's a pointed look in her eyes that everyone pretends not to notice.

"I'm good," You reply, still focused on your board design. "Need to finish this before the competition starts." Your fingers trace the intricate pattern you and Kiara have created - waves and stars intertwining across the white surface.

"Me too," John B replies, stretching out on their blanket. "Someone's gotta make sure these two don't kill each other." He gestures vaguely between JJ and you, earning himself a glare from both of you.

Kiara looks up from the surfboard, her hands covered in paint. "Get me one of those açai bowls if they have them?" she calls after Pope and Sarah. "And maybe some water for everyone? It's getting hot out here."

As Pope and Sarah head toward the vendors, the remaining group falls into an awkward silence. JJ continues fidgeting with his board, though there's nothing left to adjust. The morning sun beats down on you, the humidity making everything feel sticky and tense. The beach is getting more crowded now, the excitement building as more competitors arrive with their boards.

"Your hand looks better," You say suddenly, your voice soft but carrying clearly over the beach noise. You're still focused on your board, not looking up, but your fingers have stilled on the paint pen.

JJ flexes his injured hand unconsciously. "Yeah, well, Pope's got practice wrapping shit up. Comes with being friends with a walking disaster." He tries for his usual sarcastic tone but it falls flat.

"Remember that time you tried to do a backflip off the pier?" John B interjects, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Pope had to use an entire first aid kit on your stupid ass."

"That was one time," JJ protests, a genuine smile finally cracking through his facade. "And I totally would've landed it if that jellyfish hadn't been in the way."

"There was no jellyfish," Kiara laughs, rolling her eyes. "You just chickened out halfway through."

"I did not!" JJ's voice rises indignantly. "Tell them, Y/N/N, you were there-" He cuts himself off abruptly, realizing he'd used your old nickname without thinking.

The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the distant sound of waves and other competitors warming up. Your hand has started trembling slightly, though you try to hide it by gripping the paint pen tighter.

"There definitely wasn't a jellyfish," you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper. "But there was that group of tourist girls watching, and you were trying to show off..."

"Classic JJ," John B jumps in, trying to keep the conversation flowing. "Always trying to impress the ladies with his 'sick moves.'" He makes air quotes with his fingers.

The moment breaks when someone calls out "Maybank!" from down the beach. It's one of the competition organizers, clipboard in hand. "You're up in heat three, twenty minutes!"

"Shit," JJ mutters, standing up and grabbing his board. "I should probably warm up or whatever." He pauses, looking down at your board. "The design's good," he says quietly, before quickly adding, "Both of you. It's... yeah." He turns and jogs toward the water, his board under his arm.

"Well, that was almost a normal conversation," John B observes, earning himself an elbow in the ribs from Kiara. "What? I'm just saying..."

"I should warm up too," You say suddenly, standing and picking up your board. The morning sun catches the shell necklace around your neck - the one JJ made you years ago - making it gleam.

"Want company?" Kiara offers, but you shake your head.

"I need to..." you gesture vaguely toward the opposite end of the beach from where JJ went. "You know."

They watch as you walk away, your hair blowing in the ocean breeze. John B wraps an arm around Kiara's shoulders. "They'll figure it out," he says confidently. "They always do."

"Yeah," Kiara agrees, leaning into him. "But how many hearts are gonna get broken in the process?"

The question hangs in the air as they watch you two paddle out into the waves from opposite ends of the beach, like magnets simultaneously attracting and repelling each other. The waves crash against the shore as the competition gets underway, the beach packed with spectators cheering from the sand. The morning sun glints off the water, creating perfect conditions for the surfers waiting in the lineup. JJ sits on his board, straddling it as he watches the sets roll in, his injured hand gripping the rails slightly tighter than necessary. He's in heat three, along with you and Kiara, a cruel twist of fate that has his stomach in knots.

From the beach, John B's voice carries over the crowd. "Let's go, JJ! Show these kooks how it's done!" Sarah and Pope join in with their cheers, their enthusiasm infectious enough to draw smiles from other spectators.

JJ catches sight of you about twenty yards to his left, the shell necklace he made you glints in the sun. You're focused on the horizon, reading the waves with an intensity he remembers well from your late-night surfing sessions years ago. Kiara floats between you two, creating a triangle formation in the water, her presence both a buffer and a reminder of everything that's changed.

"First wave of heat three!" the announcer's voice booms over the speakers. "Riders, get ready!"

A set approaches and JJ feels the familiar surge of adrenaline. He watches as you turn your board, positioning yourself for the wave. Your form is different now - more refined, more confident. You catch the wave with practiced ease, your movement fluid as you drop in. The crowd cheers as you execute a perfect bottom turn, spraying water in an arc that catches the sunlight.

"Fuck," JJ mutters under his breath, both impressed and frustrated. He spots his own wave approaching, bigger than yours, and paddles hard. As he pops up, everything else fades away - the crowd, the competition, the complicated mess of emotions. It's just him and the wave, the way it's always been. He drives hard off the bottom, launching into an aerial that has the crowd screaming. His injured hand protests as he grabs his rail, but he sticks the landing, finishing with a powerful snap off the lip.

Kiara catches the next wave, her style more aggressive than yours but equally skilled. She shoots JJ a quick smile as she paddles back out, no trace of their earlier conversation in her expression. You're all competitors now, regardless of your personal drama.

The heat continues, each rider pushing themselves harder with each wave. JJ finds himself watching you more than he should, noticing how you’ve incorporated new techniques into your surfing. There's a grace to your movements that wasn't there before, a confidence that makes his chest tight with something between pride and regret.

From the beach, Pope's voice cuts through the crowd noise: "Time check! Two minutes left in the heat!"

JJ sits up straighter on his board, scanning for one last good wave. He needs something big to secure his spot in the finals. A set approaches, and he can see both you and Kiara eyeing it too. It's the kind of wave you used to fight over during your dawn patrol sessions - clean, powerful, perfect for showing off.

The tension in the water is palpable as you all turn toward shore, ready to battle for position. JJ glances at you, catching your eye for the first time since you paddled out. For a moment, it's like nothing has changed - you're just two kids from the Cut, living for the next wave. Then the moment breaks as the announcer's voice booms: "Final wave of heat three approaching! Who's gonna take it?"

The tension crackles through the air as all three surfers eye the approaching wave. JJ's muscles tense as he prepares to paddle, but suddenly you make your move first, cutting across his line with precise timing. You catch the wave perfectly, popping up with fluid grace that makes the crowd gasp.

"Holy shit!" John B's voice carries over the noise as you drop into the face of the wave. Your form is flawless, body low and controlled as you set up for your first maneuver. 

JJ can't help but watch, even as he and Kiara paddle back to position. You carve up the face of the wave, your movements more aggressive than before, spraying water in an arc that catches the sunlight. You transition into a series of snaps that have the judges leaning forward in their seats, before setting up for your finale.

"No fucking way," JJ mutters, recognizing the setup. It's a move you used to practice together, late at night when the beach was empty - a risky aerial that you’d perfected during those endless summer sessions. You launch off the lip, grabbing your rail and rotating in a way that seems to defy gravity. The landing is clean, and precise, sending another spray of water toward the sky as the crowd erupts.

"That's my girl!" Sarah screams from the beach, jumping up and down while clutching John B's arm. Pope's got his phone out, recording everything while shouting his own encouragement.

As you paddle back out, JJ catches your eye again. There's something different in your expression now - a mix of pride, challenge, and something else he can't quite read. Kiara paddles up beside him, a knowing look on her face.

"Damn," Kiara whistles low. "She's been practicing."

"Time!" The announcer's voice booms across the water. "Heat three is complete! Riders, return to shore for scoring."

The paddle back is quiet, each lost in your own thoughts as the judges figure out scores. JJ can feel the energy on the beach, knowing without looking that your last wave changed everything. As you hit the shallows, John B and Pope rush out to help with your boards.

"That was fucking insane!" John B exclaims, grabbing your board. "When did you learn to fly?"

You push your wet hair back, that shell necklace still somehow perfectly in place. "Maine has waves too," you say quietly, but your eyes flick to JJ as you say it. "Different, but good for practicing."

"Attention competitors," the announcer's voice cuts through their conversation. "Scores for heat three are ready..."

The group falls silent, tension building as you wait for the results. JJ finds himself holding his breath, his injured hand throbbing. The morning sun is high now, turning the ocean into a field of diamonds, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers teaching you that aerial on a night just like this, under a full moon with no one else around.

The announcer's voice crackles over the speakers: "In third place, with a score of 8.7 - Kiara Carrera!"

Kiara grins, accepting high-fives from the group. "Not bad for a warmup," she says, squeezing water from her hair. Her eyes dart between JJ and you, anticipating what comes next.

"In second place, with a score of 9.2..." The pause feels endless, "JJ Maybank!"

JJ's jaw tightens, his fingers flexing around his board. He knows what's coming, and can feel it in the electric tension running through their little group. Pope claps him on the shoulder, but he barely feels it.

"And taking first place in heat three, with a score of 9.8 - Y/N L/N! That final aerial was something else, folks!"

The beach erupts in cheers, but JJ's focused on your face - the way your eyes widen in surprise, the slight tremor in your hands as Sarah pulls you into a crushing hug. You look exactly like you did years ago when you landed your first aerial under his guidance.

"Holy shit, Y/N!" John B whoops, lifting you off your feet in celebration. "That was fucking incredible!"

"All riders advancing to the finals, please check the board for heat assignments," the announcer continues. "Thirty-minute break before the next round."

JJ watches as they swarm you with congratulations, his emotions a tangled mess he can't sort through. Pride, jealousy, regret, and something deeper, something that feels like the undertow that used to drag you both out during night sessions.

"You taught her that aerial," Kiara says quietly beside him, her voice carrying a knowing tone. "I remember watching you two practice it for weeks."

Before JJ can respond, you break away from the group, approaching them with hesitant steps. You're holding something in your hand - his old surf wax, the one he'd always let you borrow during your sessions.

"Found this in my bag this morning," you say, your voice barely audible over the beach noise. "Thought you might want it back." Your finger brushes his as you hand it over, sending a jolt through his system that has nothing to do with the competition.

"Keep it," he finds himself saying, his voice rougher than intended. "Looks like you're putting it to better use anyway." He tries to make it sound casual, but there's too much history in those words, too many memories of dawn patrols and midnight sessions and promises made under starlit skies.

The moment stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words, until Pope's voice breaks through: "Guys! They're posting the final heat assignments!"

The group moves toward the bulletin board, but JJ hangs back, watching you walk away. The shell necklace catches the light again, and he remembers making it for you on this very beach, his fingers working the knots while you talked about constellations and dreams and futures that seemed possible then.

"You okay?" Kiara asks, lingering beside him.

"Yeah," JJ lies, running a hand through his salt-stiffened hair. "Just... fuck." He doesn't need to finish the sentence. Kiara understands - she always has.

The finals loom ahead, but all JJ can think about is that aerial, and how your form was exactly the same as when he first taught it to you, right down to the way you point your toes during the rotation. Some things, it seems, don't change - even when everything else does.

The beach is winding down as the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and pinks. The competition crowd has thinned, leaving behind only the most dedicated spectators and the Pogues, who are sprawled out on their blankets celebrating their friends' success. JJ, you, and Kiara stand together on the podium, your medals glinting in the late afternoon light.

"Third place, Kiara Carrera!" The announcer's voice booms one final time. Kiara grins, holding up her bronze medal as Sarah and John B whoop and holler from the crowd.

"Second place, Y/N L/N!" You step forward, accepting your silver medal with a small smile. The shell necklace around your neck catches the light, drawing JJ's attention momentarily.

"And your first-place winner, JJ Maybank!" The crowd erupts as JJ accepts his gold medal, his signature cocky grin in place despite the storm of emotions brewing beneath the surface. His final wave had been spectacular - a combination of raw power and technical skill that even the most critical judges couldn't deny.

As you step down from the podium, Pope approaches with a cooler. "Time to celebrate properly!" he announces, pulling out beers for everyone. The group gravitates toward your usual spot on the beach, away from the dispersing crowd.

"To the most talented pogues in the OBX!" John B raises his beer, his other arm wrapped around Sarah's waist. "And to Kiara for not killing JJ when he snake dropped her wave in the finals!"

"Hey!" JJ protests, but he's laughing. "All's fair in love and surfing, right?" The words hang in the air for a moment, loaded with meaning as his eyes unconsciously drift to you.

"That last aerial though," Pope interjects, sensing the tension. "Thought you were gonna break your neck, JJ."

"Please," JJ scoffs, taking a long drink from his beer. "That was nothing compared to the shit we used to pull during night sessions." He freezes slightly, realizing what he's said, and who he's referencing.

You shift beside him, your silver medal catching the dying light. "Remember that time we tried to surf during a lightning storm?" You say quietly, surprising everyone. "John B had to come to rescue us in the Twinkie."

"Jesus," Sarah laughs, but her eyes are watchful. "You two were always doing crazy shit like that."

The group falls into a comfortable rhythm of storytelling and laughter, the competition tension slowly easing. JJ finds himself hyper-aware of your presence, the way you laugh at John B's terrible jokes, and how you unconsciously play with that shell necklace when you're thinking.

"You've improved," he says suddenly when the others are distracted by Pope's dramatic reenactment of a wipeout. "Your form, I mean. It's... different. Better."

You look at him, really look at him, for what feels like the first time since you’ve been back. "Had a good teacher," you reply softly, your fingers still toying with the necklace. "Some things you don't forget, even when you're trying to."

The weight of unspoken words hangs between you, heavy as storm clouds. Kiara watches you two from across the circle, a knowing look in her eyes as she catches JJ's gaze.

The Wreck is bustling with the usual dinner crowd, but Kiara's parents have reserved the back section for their celebration. The smell of fried shrimp and hush puppies fills the air as you pile around your favorite table, medals still hanging around the winners' necks. The sunset streams through the windows, casting everything in a warm golden glow.

JJ slouches in his chair, one arm draped over the back as he nurses his beer. His eyes keep drifting to you, who's sitting between Sarah and Pope, your hair still damp from the ocean. The shell necklace catches the light every time you move, a constant reminder of everything that's changed and everything that hasn't.

"Yo, check it out," John B nudges JJ, nodding toward the entrance where Topper and Rafe are making their way over. The entire table tenses slightly, years of rivalry making everyone wary.

"Hey," Topper says, stopping at their table. He looks different - less aggressive than usual, almost humble. "Just wanted to say... that was some sick surfing today. All of you." His eyes linger on you for a moment longer than necessary, making JJ's jaw clench.

Rafe, surprisingly sober, nods in agreement. "That move in the finals, Maybank? Pretty fucking impressive." He shifts uncomfortably, clearly not used to complimenting pogues. "And Y/N... didn't know you had moves like that."

"Thanks," you reply quietly, your fingers automatically going to the shell necklace. The gesture doesn't go unnoticed by anyone at the table, especially JJ.

"Yeah, well," JJ starts, his voice carrying an edge, but Kiara kicks him under the table. He swallows whatever sarcastic comment he is about to make. "Thanks, man. You weren't half bad either, Topper."

"Listen," Topper says, running a hand through his hair. "We're having a bonfire in Figure Eight tonight. Victory party kind of thing. You guys should come." The invitation hangs in the air, surprising everyone.

Sarah raises an eyebrow at her brother. "Rafe? You're okay with this?"

Rafe shrugs, looking almost uncomfortable. "New leaf and all that shit, right? Besides," he grins, some of his old cockiness returning, "can't let you pogues have all the fun."

The group exchanges looks, years of kook-pogue rivalry making them hesitant. It's Pope who finally speaks up. "Yeah, alright. Could be fun."

"Cool," Topper nods, already backing away. "Starts at nine. Bring whatever." He and Rafe head back to their table, leaving you in stunned silence.

"Did that just happen? Did we just have a civil conversation with Topper and Rafe?" Kiara says surprised.

"End times," Pope declares solemnly, making everyone laugh. "The apocalypse is definitely coming."

"Well, that was weird," John B says, voicing what everyone's thinking. "Think it's a trap?"

"Nah," Sarah shakes her head. "Topper's been different lately. And Rafe... well, rehab changed him. A little, anyway."

JJ snorts, taking another drink. "Still don't trust them." His eyes find you again. "You gonna go?"

The question feels heavier than it should, loaded with implications. You meet his gaze, something unreadable in your expression. "Maybe," you say softly. "Might be nice to see how the other half lives, right?"

The tension at the table shifts, everyone pretending not to notice the way JJ's grip tightens on his beer bottle, or how your fingers haven't left that shell necklace since Topper walked away.

"Well," Kiara stands up, ever the peacemaker, "if we're doing this, we should probably get more food first. Can't show up to a kook party on empty stomachs." She heads toward the kitchen, leaving the others to navigate the complicated dynamics at the table.

The bonfire casts dancing shadows across the beach as JJ stands near the water's edge, the sound of waves mixing with distant laughter and music from the kook party. He's already several beers in, trying to drown out the memories that keep surfacing every time he catches sight of you. The others have conspicuously disappeared - John B and Sarah wandering off toward the dunes, Pope getting caught up in some debate about marine biology with a group of college kids, and Kiara conveniently remembering she needed to help set up the speakers.

You approach quietly, your presence announced only by the soft crunch of sand under your feet. You’ve changed since dinner, wearing a loose white beach dress that catches the firelight, that damn shell necklace still around your neck. Without warning, you reach out and take his beer, replacing it with a bottle of water.

"The fuck, Y/N/N?" JJ protests, the nickname slipping out before he can stop it. His voice is rougher than usual, whether, from the alcohol or emotion, it's hard to tell.

"You've had enough," you say softly, but firmly. "And we both know you get mean when you drink too much." There's no judgment in your voice, just stated fact - you know him too well, even after all this time.

JJ runs a hand through his hair, agitation clear in every movement. "Yeah? And what makes you think you still get to make that call?" The words come out harsh, but he takes a drink from the water bottle anyway.

You settle into the sand, patting the spot next to you. After a moment's hesitation, JJ sits too, maintaining careful distance between you two. The fire casts an orange glow across your skin.

"Remember the last bonfire we were at together?" You ask suddenly, your voice barely audible over the waves. "Before... everything?"

JJ tenses beside you, his fingers digging into the sand. "Don't," he warns, but there's less bite in his voice now. "We're not doing this, Y/N."

"Aren't we?" You turn to look at him fully, the firelight reflecting in your eyes. "Because I think we've been doing this dance since I got back. Everyone sees it, JJ. Even Kiara-"

"Leave Kie out of this," he snaps, but you both know it's a weak protest. His hand unconsciously moves toward yours in the sand before he catches himself. The shell necklace gleams as you shift, drawing his attention. "You kept it," he says suddenly, nodding toward the necklace. "Even in Maine."

"Never took it off," you admit quietly. "Even when they..it was the only piece of home I had left. The only piece of you."

JJ's breath catches at your words, his fingers curling into fists in the sand. The firelight dances across your faces as the party continues behind you, but you might as well be alone on the beach. The sound of waves seems to grow louder, matching the thundering of his heart.

"You can't just..." he starts, his voice cracking.

"You can't just say shit like that, Y/N. Not after... not after everything."

You shift slightly closer, the hem of your white dress brushing against his leg. "Then what can I say, JJ? Because we need to talk about it. About that night. About why I really left." 

"Yeah?" JJ's voice turns sharp, defensive. "What's there to talk about? You made your choice. You left. End of fucking story." But his eyes betray him, constantly drawn to your face, to the necklace, to the way the firelight catches in your hair.

"It wasn't a choice," you say quietly, your voice trembling slightly. "My parents found the letters, JJ. The ones I wrote to you about... about everything. About your dad, about what we were planning..." You take a shaky breath. "About how much I loved you."

JJ's whole body goes rigid at your words. The water bottle crumples in his grip, forgotten. "Stop," he says, but it sounds more like a plea than a command. "Just... fuck, Y/N."

"You want to know why I really left?" You continue, your voice stronger now. "Because that night, after I left your house, after your dad..." you swallow hard. "After I saw what he did to you, I went home and wrote everything down. Every bruise I'd helped you hide, every night you climbed through my window bleeding, every time you flinched when someone moved too fast. I was going to turn him in, JJ. I couldn't watch him hurt you anymore."

The confession hangs in the air between you, heavy as storm clouds. JJ's breathing has become ragged, his jaw clenched so tight it must hurt. Behind you, someone cranks up the music, but it feels distant, muffled like you're underwater.

"My parents found the letters before I could do anything," you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. "They read everything - about us, about your dad, about how we were planning to run away after graduation. They didn't give me a choice, JJ. It was either Maine or..." 

JJ stares at the water, his whole body vibrating with tension as he processes your words. The firelight catches the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, but he blinks them away furiously. His injured hand flexes in the sand, leaving small indentations that quickly fill with darkness.

"You were gonna..." he starts, his voice hoarse. "You were trying to protect me?" A bitter laugh escapes him. "Fuck, Y/N. I thought... all this time I thought you just couldn't handle my shit anymore. Thought you got tired of dealing with the fucked up pogue kid."

You shift closer, close enough that your shoulders brush. The contact sends electricity through both of you. "I could never get tired of you, JJ," you whisper, your voice catching. "Even in Maine, even when they had me so medicated I could barely remember my own name... I never stopped..."

"Don't," he cuts you off roughly, but he doesn't move away. "You can't just come back here and tell me all this shit. You can't just..." he runs his hand through his hair again, agitation clear in every movement. "Fuck, do you know what it did to me? Finding your room empty that morning? Your mom wouldn't tell me anything, just kept saying you were 'getting help' like you were some kind of..." he can't finish the sentence.

"I tried to call," you admit quietly. "That first month, I called your number every day until they took my phone. Left so many voicemails I filled up your inbox." You touch the shell necklace again, a habit he's starting to recognize as nervous comfort. "Did you... did you ever listen to them?"

"Every fucking one. Over and over until the system deleted them." He finally turns to look at you fully, his eyes intense in the firelight. "You wanna know something really fucked up? I still have that old phone. Can't bring myself to throw it away because it's got your last message saved."

The confession hangs between you, heavy with meaning. Behind you, the party continues, but you might as well be alone on the beach. The waves crash steadily, a rhythm you both know by heart from countless night sessions together.

"I kept every letter," You say softly. "The ones they wouldn't let me send. There's a whole box of them under my bed. Three years' worth of things I needed to tell you." Your hand moves unconsciously toward his in the sand, stopping just short of touching.

JJ stares at the ocean for a long moment, processing everything. The firelight dances across his features as he finally turns back to you, his expression raw and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen since that last night three years ago.

"You know what really fucked me up?" he says quietly, his voice rough with emotion. "Every time something good happened, or something shit happened, or just... anything happened, my first thought was always 'I gotta tell Y/N.' Then I'd remember you weren't there anymore." He lets out a shaky breath. "Took me almost a year to stop turning to tell you stuff."

Your hand finally bridges the gap between them, your fingers brushing against his in the sand. Neither of you pulls away. "I did the same thing," you admit. "In group therapy, they'd ask who we missed most from home. I'd always say my parents, but..." You touch the shell necklace with your free hand. "It was always you, JJ. Every single time."

JJ's thumb unconsciously strokes across your knuckles, a gesture so familiar it makes your heartache. "I can't..." He starts, his voice catching. "I can't go through losing you again, Y/N. I barely survived it the first time." The admission costs him, you can see it in the way his jaw clenches, the way his fingers tighten slightly against yours.

"I'm not going anywhere," you whisper, the words carrying on the ocean breeze. "Not this time. Not ever again." You turn your hand in the sand, properly lacing your fingers together. "I'm done running, JJ. From you, from us, from everything."

The silence that follows is heavy with possibility. Behind you, someone calls your names - probably Pope or Sarah looking for you - but neither moves. "We can't just pick up where we left off," JJ finally says, but he doesn't let go of your hand. "Too much has happened. We're different people now."

You nod, understanding in your eyes. "I know. But maybe..." you squeeze his hand gently. "Maybe we can start something new. Something better."

JJ looks at your intertwined hands, then back at your face - at the girl who's haunted his dreams for three years, who's sitting here now in the firelight wearing his necklace and holding his hand like you never left. "Yeah," he says softly, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through. "Maybe we can."

The party continues behind you, but you stay there on the beach, hands linked, watching the waves and starting the long process of healing what was broken. It's not perfect, and it's not fixed, but it's a beginning. And sometimes, that's enough.

The moonlight streams through your bedroom window as you and JJ slip inside, your footsteps quiet on the hardwood floors. Your room looks different than JJ remembers - new paint, new decorations, but somehow still unmistakably you. The fairy lights strung across the ceiling cast a soft glow over everything, creating shadows that dance across the walls.

JJ hovers near the door, hands shoved in his pockets as he watches you drop to your knees beside the bed. The fabric of your dress ghosting around your legs as you reach under the bed frame. His shell necklace catches the light as you move, making his chest tight with memories.

"It's here somewhere," You mutter, pushing aside boxes and old notebooks. "I kept everything organized when I moved back, but..." you trail off, stretching further under the bed. 

JJ forces himself to look away, focusing instead on the photos newly tacked to your wall. Most are recent - your time in Maine, new friends, new places. But there, in the corner, partially hidden behind others, he spots one that makes his breath catch. It's you two, three years ago, on the beach after a night session. His arm is around your shoulders, both of you grinning at the camera, saltwater still dripping from your hair.

"Found it!" Your voice pulls him back to the present. You emerge from under the bed with a large shoebox, worn at the edges and covered in doodles. Your hands shake slightly as you set it on the bed, looking up at JJ with uncertainty in your eyes.

"That's... all of them?" JJ asks, his voice rougher than intended. He takes a step closer, drawn by the box like a magnet. Three years of words you couldn't say, couldn't send, all contained in one shoebox.

You nod, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside the box. "Every letter I wrote. Every time I missed you, every time something reminded me of you, every time I..." you trail off, fingers tracing the edge of the box. "Every time I needed you to know I still loved you."

The admission hangs in the air between you, heavy with possibility. JJ moves closer, perching on the edge of the bed, careful to maintain some distance. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across your face as you open the box, revealing stacks of envelopes, some crisp and new, others worn from being handled repeatedly.

"You don't have to read them now," you say quickly, noticing how JJ's hands have started to shake. "I just... I needed you to know they existed. That I never stopped trying to reach you, even when I couldn't actually send them."

The tension breaks as he lets out a snort of laughter, picking up one of the envelopes. "Your handwriting still looks like shit, Y/N," he teases, falling easily back into your old dynamic. "Seriously, did they not teach penmanship in Maine?"

You gasp in mock offense, snatching the letter from his hands. "Excuse you, this is art." You fought back a smile though, relief evident in your features at his attempt to lighten the mood. "Not all of us can have perfect surfer boy handwriting."

"Perfect?" JJ grins, reaching for another letter. "Have you seen my grocery lists? Even Pope can't read them." He settles more comfortably on the bed, his earlier hesitation melting away. "Oh shit, this one's got little hearts drawn all over it. Fucking sap."

"Shut up," You laugh, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I was heavily medicated and missing your stupid face." You pull out another letter, this one covered in doodles of waves and surfboards. "Oh god, my therapy art phase. We don't talk about this one."

JJ snatches it before you can hide it, his eyes scanning the page with growing amusement. "Holy fuck, is that supposed to be me?" He points to a stick figure with spiky hair riding a wave. "My hair does not look like that!"

"It absolutely does when you first wake up," you argue, reaching for the letter. JJ holds it above his head, laughing as you try to grab it. "JJ Maybank, give that back!"

"Make me," he challenges, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. It feels like old times - him in your room, playfully arguing about nothing important, the weight of your earlier conversation temporarily lifted.

You lunge for the letter, causing you both to tumble backward onto your bed, letters scattering around you. JJ's still holding the drawing above his head, grinning as you try to reach it. "You're such an ass," you complain, but you're laughing too.

"Yeah, but you missed this ass," he quips, then freezes slightly, worried he's pushed too far. But You just roll your eyes, finally managing to snatch the letter back.

"Unfortunately," you sigh dramatically, settling beside him among the scattered letters. "Though I'm starting to question my judgment."

JJ clutches his chest in mock hurt. "Wow, three years and you're already tired of me? That's cold, Y/N. Ice cold." He picks up another letter, this one dated from about a year ago. "Oh look, more hearts. And are those little JJs surfing?"

"I'm going to murder you," you threaten, but there's no heat in it. You're watching him with soft eyes, taking in how the fairy lights cast shadows across his face, how his smile reaches his eyes for the first time since you’ve been back.

"Nah, you love me too much," he says automatically, then stills as he realizes what he's said. The playful atmosphere wavers for a moment, the weight of your history threatening to crash back in.

But you just smile, reaching out to fix his messy hair. "Yeah," you say softly. "I do."

The admission is simple, honest, lacking the heavy emotion of your beach conversation. JJ looks at you, really looks at you, surrounded by three years worth of letters you wrote to him, wearing his necklace, smiling at him like nothing's changed and everything's changed all at once.

"Well, shit," he says finally, a grin tugging at his lips. "That's convenient. 'Cause I might still love you too."

The moment stretches between you, charged with three years of unspoken feelings until JJ finally closes the distance. His lips meet yours softly at first, hesitant, like he's afraid you might disappear if he pushes too hard. His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone as letters crinkle beneath you.

You respond immediately, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him closer. The kiss deepens, three years of longing and regret and love pouring into it. JJ tastes like ocean and bonfire smoke, exactly how you remember.

"Fuck," JJ breathes against your lips, pulling back slightly. His blue eyes are dark with emotion as he looks at you, his thumb still tracing patterns on your skin. "I've missed this. Missed you." His voice is rough, and vulnerable in a way he rarely allows himself to be.

You smile, tugging gently at his hair. "Yeah?" You tease, though your voice trembles slightly. "Even with my shit handwriting?"

JJ laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where it's pressed against yours. "Especially with your shit handwriting," he murmurs, before capturing your lips again. This kiss is different - deeper, more urgent. His hand slides from your face to your neck, fingers brushing against the shell necklace.

You shift on the bed, letters scattering to the floor forgotten as you pull JJ closer. His weight settles over you naturally, like you never spent time apart. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over them, creating shadows that dance across your skin.

"Is this okay?" JJ asks between kisses, his forehead resting against yours. Despite his usual confidence, there's uncertainty in his voice. "We don't have to..."

You cut him off with another kiss, your hands sliding under his t-shirt to trace the familiar planes of his back. "JJ," you whisper against his lips. "Shut up."

He grins against your mouth, some of his usual cockiness returning. "Make me," he challenges, echoing your earlier playful banter. But there's heat in his voice now, promise in the way his fingers trail down your sides tracing the curve of your waist through the thin fabric of your white dress. His touch is familiar and electric, leaving trails of heat in its wake. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over them as he captures your lips again, deeper this time, more urgent.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathes against your mouth, his voice rough with want. His fingers find the hem of your dress, playing with the fabric as he kisses down your neck. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

"Don't you dare," you whisper, tugging at his hair the way you know he likes, The action draws a low groan from him, his hips pressing instinctively against yours. JJ pulls back slightly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he looks down at you. The shell necklace gleams against your skin, making his chest tight with emotion. He leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, following the path of the necklace.

"You're wearing too many clothes," he murmurs against your skin, his hands sliding higher under your dress. His touch is reverent, relearning every curve and dip of your body. When his fingers brush against the lace of your underwear, you both inhale sharply.

You tug at his shirt impatiently. "So are you," you breathe, helping him pull it over his head your hands immediately explore his chest. "God, I've missed touching you."

JJ's response is to kiss you again, hard and deep, as his hands work to dress up your body. "Lift up," he instructs softly, and you arch your back so he can pull the fabric over your head. The sight of you in just your underwear, his necklace resting between your breasts, makes him pause.

"What?" You ask, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze. But JJ just shakes his head, leaning down to press kisses across your chest.

"Just..." he murmurs between kisses, "trying to memorize everything." His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through your bra. "In case this is a dream."

You reach up to touch JJ's face tenderly, your thumb tracing his bottom lip. "Not a dream," you whisper, pulling him down for another deep kiss. Your legs wrap around his waist, drawing him closer as his hands explore your body with increasing urgency.

JJ's fingers trace the edge of your bra, his touch teasing yet reverent. "Can I...?" he asks against your lips, and you nod, arching your back so he can reach the clasp. His hands are slightly shaky as he unhooks it like he still can't quite believe this is real.

"Fuck," he breathes as the garment falls away, revealing your breasts. The shell necklace rests between them, catching the fairy lights. JJ leans down, pressing open-mouthed kisses across your chest. His tongue traces patterns on your skin, remembering exactly how to make you gasp.

Your hands tangle in his hair as he takes a nipple into his mouth, your back arching off the bed. "JJ," you moan softly, mindful of the quiet house. His free hand palms your other breast, thumb circling the sensitive peak until you're squirming beneath him.

"Missed these sounds," JJ murmurs against your skin, switching his attention to your other breast. "Missed making you fall apart." His hand slides down your stomach, fingers playing with the waistband of your underwear. "Can still remember every spot that makes you shake."

To prove his point, he kisses down your ribs to that sensitive spot just below your left breast - the one that always makes you gasp. Sure enough, your breath hitches, your fingers tightening in his hair. "Still so responsive," he grins against your skin, nipping gently.

"Shut up," you breathe, but there's no heat in it. Your hands slide down his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin in the way you know drives him crazy. JJ groans, his hips pressing against yours instinctively.

"Make me," he challenges, echoing your earlier banter as he kisses lower, across your stomach. His fingers hook into your underwear, but he pauses, looking up at you with dark eyes. "Tell me you want this, Y/N/N. Tell me you want me."

You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him with eyes full of love and desire. The fairy lights cast shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. "I want you, JJ," you whisper. "Always have, always will."

When you reach the waistband of his shorts, he groans softly against your neck. "Can I?" You ask, fingers playing with the button of his shorts. JJ nods against your skin, his breath hot on your neck as you work the button free. The sound of his zipper seems loud in the quiet room.

JJ helps you slide his shorts down his legs, his breath catching as your fingers trace the waistband of his boxers. The fairy lights cast a soft glow over his skin, highlighting the muscles that flex under your touch. "Fuck, Y/N," he breathes as your hand palms him through the thin fabric. His hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction. "You're gonna kill me."

You smirk up at him, enjoying the way his breath hitches as you hook your fingers in his boxers. "That's the plan," you tease, slowly pulling the fabric down. JJ kicks them off impatiently, leaving him completely bare above you.

His hands slide up your thighs, fingers playing with the edge of your underwear. "These need to go," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your hip bone. "Want to taste you again."

You lift your hips, letting him slide the lace down your legs. The shell necklace gleams against your skin as you move, drawing JJ's attention. He leans down, pressing kisses along the chain until he reaches the shell pendant resting between your breasts.

"Still can't believe you kept it," he whispers against your skin, his hands exploring your now-bare body with increasing urgency. "Kept wearing it all this time."

"Never took it off," you breathe, arching into his touch as his fingers trace patterns on your inner thighs. "It was like keeping a piece of you with me."

JJ groans at your words, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. His hand slides higher, fingers teasing where you want him most. "Tell me what you need," he murmurs against your mouth. "Want to make you feel good."

Your response is cut off by a gasp as his fingers find where you need him. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, "You," you manage to say. "Just you, JJ. Always you."

JJ's fingers trace slow, teasing circles against your sensitive flesh, watching with dark eyes as you arch beneath his touch. His other hand explores your body with reverent familiarity, relearning every curve and dip that he's missed for three long years. The fairy lights cast shifting shadows across your bare skin as you move together on your bed. "Fuck, you're so wet already," JJ breathes against your neck, his voice rough with desire. His fingers slide lower, teasing your entrance as his thumb continues its maddening circles. "Always so responsive for me, Y/N."

JJ can't resist leaning down to trace the chain of the necklace with his tongue, following its path down to where it rests against your sternum. "Please," you gasp as he slides one finger inside you, your legs spreading wider to accommodate him. "JJ, I need..."

"Tell me," he murmurs against your skin, adding a second finger and curling them just right. "Want to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you need." Your response is cut off by a moan as his thumb presses harder, his fingers finding that spot inside you that makes you see stars. JJ watches your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses your features. His cock throbs insistently against your thigh, but he ignores it, focused entirely on making you fall apart.

"You," you finally manage, your voice breathy and desperate. "Need you inside me, JJ. Please."

JJ groans at your words, his control wavering. But he forces himself to maintain his slow pace, wanting to draw this out, to make it last. His fingers continue their steady rhythm as he kisses down your body, paying special attention to each sensitive spot he remembers.

"Not yet," he whispers against your hip bone, nipping gently at the skin there. "Want to taste you first. Been dreaming about this for three years, Y/N. Gonna take my time."

JJ settles between your thighs, his hot breath teasing your sensitive flesh as he presses open-mouthed kisses along your inner thighs. His fingers maintain their steady rhythm inside you, curling just right. "Missed how you taste," he murmurs against your thigh, nipping gently at the sensitive skin. "Missed making you fall apart like this." His free hand slides up your body to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he finally presses his tongue against your clit.

Your back arches off the bed, one hand tangling in his salt-stiffened hair while the other grips your sheets. The shell necklace catches the light as you move, a constant reminder of your shared history. "JJ," you gasp, trying to keep your voice down despite the pleasure coursing through you.

JJ hums against you, the vibration making your thighs tremble. His tongue traces patterns around your clit as his fingers continue their steady thrusting, finding that perfect spot inside you that makes you see stars. He watches your face intently, memorizing every expression of pleasure that crosses your features.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to blow cool air against your heated flesh. "Want to see you come apart for me. Been too fucking long." His words are punctuated by another curl of his fingers, another swipe of his tongue.

Your hips buck against his face as he sucks your clit into his mouth, your breathing becoming more ragged. JJ's free hand slides down to hold your hips steady, his grip firm but gentle. "Close," you manage to gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair. "JJ, I'm so close..."

JJ doubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster as his fingers maintain their perfect rhythm. He can feel your walls beginning to flutter around his fingers and can taste how close you are. "Come for me, Y/N, Want to feel you fall apart on my tongue."

The combination of his words, his fingers, and his tongue finally pushes you over the edge. Tour back arches sharply, your thighs trembling as waves of pleasure crash over you. JJ works you through it, his movements becoming gentler as you come down from your high.

When he finally pulls back, his lips are glistening and his eyes are dark with desire. He presses soft kisses up your body as you catch your breath, paying special attention to the shell necklace that rests between your breasts. His cock presses insistently against your thigh, but he makes no move to rush things.

"Beautiful," he murmurs against your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point. "Fucking beautiful, Y/N. Missed watching you come undone like that."

Your hands slide down his back, nails dragging lightly across his skin in a way that makes him shiver. "Need you," you whisper, pulling him up for a deep kiss. You taste yourself on his tongue, making you moan softly. "Please, JJ. Need you inside me."

JJ positions himself between your thighs, his cock pressing teasingly against your entrance. The fairy lights cast shadows across your sweat-slicked bodies as he captures your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Need you to be sure," he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough with desire and emotion. "Tell me this is what you want, Y/N." His cock slides against your wetness, making you both gasp at the sensation. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I'm sure, JJ," you breathe, your hands sliding up his back to tangle in his hair. "Been sure since the day I left. Want you, need you, love you."

JJ groans at your words, capturing your lips again as he slowly pushes inside you. You both freeze at the sensation, overwhelmed by the feeling of being connected again after so long. "Fuck," he breathes against your neck, his arms trembling as he holds himself still. "You feel fucking perfect, baby."

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you adjust to his size, your breath coming in short gasps. The fairy lights dance across your skin as you start to move together, finding your rhythm like you’ve never spent a day apart. JJ's movements are slow, and deliberate, wanting to savor every moment.

"Missed this," he murmurs, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your neck. "Missed you, missed us." His words are punctuated by slow, deep thrusts that make you gasp and arch beneath him. One hand slides down to grip your hip, angling you just right.

The shell necklace moves with each thrust, catching the light and drawing JJ's attention. He leans down to trace it with his tongue, following its path between your breasts. The action makes you moan softly, your walls clenching around him.

"JJ," you gasp as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "Please, need more." Your hands slide down his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him groan and thrust harder.

He continues his slow, deliberate pace, savoring every gasp and moan that escapes your lips. His hands explore your body with increasing urgency, one sliding down to grip your thigh as he adjusts the angle of his thrusts. "Fuck," he groans against your neck, nipping gently at your pulse point. "Feel so good around me, so fucking perfect." His words are punctuated by deep, measured thrusts that make your walls clench around him. The shell necklace gleams between your breasts, moving with each roll of his hips.

Your hands slide up his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him shudder. "Please, JJ," you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. "Need more, need you harder." Your voice is breathy, and desperate, making his control waver.

But JJ maintains his torturously slow pace, wanting to draw out every moment. His free hand slides between them to circle your clit, making your back arch sharply off the bed. "Not yet, baby," he murmurs, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. "Want to feel every inch of you, want to make this last."

JJ's thumb continues its maddening circles on your clit as he thrusts deeper, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. "JJ," You moan, your walls fluttering around him as you get closer to the edge. "I'm close, so close..." 

His thrusts become slightly harder, and deeper, but still maintain that measured pace that's driving you both crazy. JJ's free hand slides up to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he continues to work you higher. The combination of sensations has you gasping his name, your body trembling beneath him.

JJ grins against your lips, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. "Want to try something?" he asks, his voice rough with desire. Without waiting for an answer, he suddenly rolls you over, keeping himself buried deep inside you as you end up straddling his lap.

"Fuck," You gasp at the new angle, your hands braced against his chest as you adjust. The shell necklace swings between you, catching the fairy lights as you move. JJ's hands slide up your thighs, gripping your hips as he guides you into a slow rhythm.

"That's it, baby," he groans, watching as you start to move above him. Your breasts bounce slightly with each movement, making his mouth water. "Ride my cock just like that." His hands explore your body freely from this new position, one sliding up to palm your breast while the other keeps a steady grip on your hip.

You set a torturously slow pace, rolling your hips in a way that has JJ cursing under his breath. Your walls clench around him with each movement, drawing low groans from deep in his chest. "Missed watching you like this," JJ breathes, his hands roaming your body possessively. He sits up slightly, capturing a nipple in his mouth as you continue to ride him. 

His hands guide your movements, helping you maintain that slow, deep pace that's driving you both crazy.

"JJ," You moan as he hits that perfect spot inside you. Your nails drag down his chest, leaving light scratches that make him buck up into you harder. 

JJ's control starts to slip as he watches you move above him, your head thrown back in pleasure. "Fuck, Y/N," he groans, his hands tightening on your hips. "You look so fucking good riding my cock like this."

He watches in awe as you continue to ride him, your movements becoming more confident with each roll of your hips. His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts as you move above him. "Fuck, just like that," he groans, bucking up to meet your movements. His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you into a rhythm that has you both gasping. 

You brace your hands on his chest, using the leverage to grind down harder. Your walls clench around him with each movement, drawing curses from his lips. "JJ," you moan, your head falling back as he hits that perfect spot inside you. "So deep like this..."

JJ works faster on your clit as he continues to thrust up into you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. You gasp, and your movements become more desperate. He suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper at the loss. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as he tries to regain some control, his cock throbbing painfully between you. 

"Need to slow down," he groans against your lips, his hands sliding up your sides. "Don't want this to end yet." His fingers trace patterns on your skin as you straddle his thighs. Your hands slide down his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin in a way that makes him shiver. "JJ," you whimper, trying to move closer. Your pussy is dripping wet, clenching around nothing as you seek friction.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," his fingers slid between your legs to tease your entrance. He watches as you gasp and arches into his touch, your walls fluttering around his fingers. "Could stay here all night, just watching you fall apart."

You rock against his hand, seeking more friction. JJ's free hand slides up to palm your breast, thumb circling your nipple as he continues to tease you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. "Please," you moan, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "Need you back inside me, JJ. Been too long without you."

You shift in JJ's lap, deliberately grinding against his thigh. The friction makes you gasp, your wetness coating his skin as you rock your hips. His hands gripping your hips to guide your movements. "Fuck, Y/N," he groans, feeling your pussy slide against his thigh. "You're so fucking wet." His fingers dig into your flesh, leaving marks that will be visible tomorrow. 

Your hands brace against his chest for leverage as you grind harder, chasing the friction you need. The shell necklace swings between you with each movement, occasionally brushing against his heated skin. "JJ," you moan, your head falling back as pleasure builds.

JJ's free hand slides between them, thumb finding your clit as you continue to grind against him. "Please, more, need you inside me again." Your words are punctuated by the roll of your hips, your pussy sliding against his thigh with increasing urgency.

His thumb works faster on your clit as you ride his thigh, drawing you closer to release. "Come like this first," he commands roughly. You continue grinding against JJ's thigh, your movements becoming more desperate as pleasure builds. Your wetness coats his skin, making each slide of your pussy against him smoother, more intense. JJ's hands grip your hips tighter, guiding your movements as he watches you chase your release. 

"Want to feel you soak my thigh before I fuck you properly." JJ’s words, combined with the pressure on your clit and the friction against his thigh, finally push you over the edge. Your body trembles as waves of pleasure crash over you, your pussy pulsing against JJ's thigh as you come. Your wetness coats his skin, making everything slick and hot between you. 

"Fuck, that's it," His cock throbs painfully between you, demanding attention. "So fucking beautiful when you come." His thumb continues to circle your clit, drawing out your pleasure until your gasping and squirming.

Without warning, JJ flips them over, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His cock slides through your wetness, teasing your sensitive flesh. "Need to be inside you again," he groans, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. "Been too fucking long without this."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "Please, JJ," you whimper, still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls clench around nothing, seeking the fullness of his cock. "Need you inside me."

JJ lines himself up with your entrance, watching your face as he slowly pushes back inside. You both groan at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate him again.  "Fuck, still so tight," JJ breathes, setting a slow, deep pace. His hands explore your body possessively as he thrusts into you, memorizing every curve and dip. "Feel so good."

Your hands slide up his back, nails leaving light scratches that make him shudder. Your pussy pulses around him with each thrust, drawing low groans from deep in his chest. JJ maintains his deep, steady rhythm as he thrusts into you, his hands gripping your hips with bruising force. "I’m close," you gasp, your hands clutching at his shoulders for support. "So close, JJ. Please don't stop."

His hand slides between them to circle your clit as he maintains his punishing pace. "Come for me again," he commands. His thrusts become more erratic as he feels his release approaching, his grip on your hips tightening with bruising force. The fairy lights cast dancing shadows across their sweat-slicked bodies as they move together with increasing urgency. Without warning, he suddenly pulls out, his cock throbbing painfully between you.

"Fuck," he groans, his hand wrapping around his length as he strokes himself. "Where do you want it, baby?" His eyes are dark with desire as he watches you beneath him, your chest heaving with heavy breaths.

Your hands slide up his chest, nails dragging lightly across his skin. "On me," you gasp, still trembling from your release. 

JJ's control finally snaps at your words. With a low groan, he comes hard, painting thick stripes across your stomach and breasts. The shell necklace gleams in the fairy lights, covered in drops of his release.

You collapse together on the bed, breathing heavily as you come down from your high. JJ reaches for his discarded t-shirt, gently cleaning his release from your skin. "Stay," you whisper, curling into his side. Your fingers trace patterns on his chest as your breathing slowly returns to normal. "Please stay this time."

JJ pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Not going anywhere," he murmurs against your skin. "Never again." The fairy lights continue to cast their soft glow over the room as you drift off to sleep, tangled together like they never spent a day apart.

His phone buzzes on the nightstand, the screen illuminating the dim room with a soft blue glow. He groans softly, careful not to wake you who's curled against his chest, your breathing deep and even. 

The group chat notification shows several messages from John B and Pope:

John B: yo where tf did you and y/n disappear to??? 👀

Pope: they definitely left together bro

John B: fucking FINALLY

Pope: 20 bucks says they're at her place

John B: nah man, bet they're at the chateau

JJ can't help but grin at his friends' messages, his free hand absently playing with your hair as you sleep.

His phone buzzes again:

John B: JJ we know you're reading these messages asshole

Pope: let him live, he's probably busy 😏

John B: BUSY WITH WHAT POPE??? 🤔��

JJ rolls his eyes, typing out a quick response with one hand:

"fuck off both of you”

The response is immediate:

John B: HE LIVES!!!

Pope: told you they were together

John B: you better not fuck this up again maybank

JJ's jaw tenses at John B's last message, his arm tightening slightly around your sleeping form. The fairy lights cast soft shadows across your peaceful face as he looks down at you, remembering everything you’ve been through to get here. The shell necklace rests between you, a constant reminder of your shared past and the promise of your future but for now, in this room with its fairy lights and scattered memories, nothing exists beyond the two of you.

[drugs-and-daddyissues]

𝑻𝒐𝒎 𝑯𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒂𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒃𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ SFW

☆ Takes him FOREVER to make it official with you, but trust me, once he's yours, he's all yours.

☆ He'll try to act all tough around his friends, but you've got him completely wrapped around your finger.

☆ Not super big on PDA, although he does like to keep a hand on you. On your back, around your shoulders, intertwined with your own hand, doesn't matter. He's protective by nature, and it's like a small way to make sure you're safe.

☆ You become best friends with Judy, because of course you do. Penhall teases Tommy (our poor baby) about finally settling down. Ioki's just happy Tom's happy.

☆ I feel like he'll give you some piece of jewelry to "claim you". A necklace, bracelet, anklet, anything. It wouldn't be his name but rather just his initial.

☆ Takes you bowling even if you hate it (spoiler: you don't because he makes it so fun) .

☆ Kissing and making out in the back of his Mustang.

☆ He'd be a very attentive listener with you, and it shows. Talking about your favorite artist/band? He'll listen to a few of their songs, or he'll buy you a CD of said artist/band.

☆ His main love language is definitely acts of service. He will do literally any small thing for you (passes the orange peel theory 1000000%) .

☆ Although it would take a while, he'd eventually indulge in long conversations planning your future together. Kids, house, pets, life goals, EVERYTHING would be discussed.

☆ He's a little hot headed, but he'll try his best to be patient with you.

☆ He's very traditional, not in a gross way, but just in the way that he feels like he should protect and provide for you. He insists on paying on every date, he's opening doors for you, he's respecting your boundaries. Just a pure gentleman with you.

☆ If you have any issues with him in the relationship, he'll listen, validate your feelings, and try to come up with a solution or compromise. He's smart, he's a problem solver, and your issue is typically resolved fairly quickly.

☆ He was the one who made it a rule that you never go to bed angry with each other. If you're simply too exhausted to continue an argument, he'll pull you into his chest, and run his fingers through your hair, instead of just avoiding you.

☆ He's kind of impulsive sometimes, but you don't leave. Because behind all of his stubbornness is a genuine good guy who's just trying to do the right thing.

☆ He's so clingy when he's tired. If y'all are sleeping in the same bed, that man practically has his whole body over you. Don't even think about trying to get up

☆ He absolutely hates seeing you in pain. Will do absolutely any and everything to help alleviate said pain.

☆ When you cuddle, he loves spooning you, Easily his favorite cuddling position.

☆ His love languages (click link)

☆ He's a little paranoid about you going out (it's the cop in him). He worries about every little thing, always reminds you not to drink too much, not to walk alone, etc. He just wants to keep you safe.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ NSFW

☆ Speaking of positions, his favorite sex position is either missionary or cowgirl. He needs to be able to see your face contort into pleasure.

☆ I don't think he's too vanilla, but I also just don't see him being into harder things like BDSM. He'll get freaky with it. He'll mark you up with hickies, he'll choke you, he'll fuck you so hard you'll be shaking after.

☆ He's a soft dom though. He'll praise you while his cock is buried into your heat, he'll check up on you, make sure you're okay, he'll clean you up after the fact.

☆ This is more fem centered but: Out of tits, thighs, and ass, he's definitely a boob guy mostly. He literally can't keep his hands off your tits, he's such a pervert!! All he wants to do is take a puffy nipple into his mouth, gently swirling and flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud, while his other hand is on your other tit.

☆ He's so good with prepping you, he will literally never fuck you without you being properly lubed up (whether that's by your own arousal, or if he does use lube). He'll finger you, ease you into it, before pushing his cock into you

☆ And if you work with him? It's over for y'all, because he's pulling you away somewhere private to make out with you, gently groping you through your clothes. He's just whispering about how much he missed you, how he couldn't wait, how he needed to touch his pretty little lover.

☆ Honestly, he likes receiving oral more than he likes giving it. But don't misunderstand that as him not wanting to give you head, or that it'll be lousy. No. He's been around the block a few times, he's not stupid, he knows what he's doing. He's skilled with his mouth, and he'll easily pull 2-3 orgasms out of you before he's done.

☆ Make up sex is common (hint hint, wink wink, I wrote about it here if you wanna read) because like I said, he's damn impulsive. He's.. Passionate when it comes to things.

☆ Gets off on you calling him "officer", and would definitely handcuff you while fucking your brains out.

☆ If you're riding him, he will thrust up into you to meet you half way, making you let out a soft scream in pleasure as the head of his cock brushes against that sweet spot inside you

A/N: I'll update more as more thoughts come to me, but Tommy has had me in an absolute chokehold and I thought I'd share <3 - 🪐

Like what you've read? masterlist

[magicalrocketships]

Books!! Thanks to @officialmood for the tag :)

An estimate of how many physical books I own: Me, staring at my bookcases and doing an estimate per shelf x number of shelves... maybe 500? (and if you include ebooks, then there are 304 books in my to read folder and 339 in my read and keep folder). AND I did a big clear out before I moved last year. And took four bags to the charity book shop earlier this year. I cycle a lot of second hand books in and out tbh.

Favorite author: There are loads of favourite books and I could pretty much go on about most of the books on my shelves, but I think I could continue to lose myself in Lois McMaster Bujold's books over and over and over again. I know that Georgette Heyer books are very much Of Their Time but it is also true that if I ever need a comfort read then I know what to reach for.

A popular book I've never read and never intend to read: Godddddddddd. Liza said Infinite Jest and I also have zero intention of ever reading this. But SO MANY.

A popular book I thought was just meh: Red, White, and Royal Blue. I did not get along with Wolf Hall, but I also didn't get that far into it before giving in.

Longest book I own: Toss up between the Neal Stephenson Baroque Cycle volumes, War and Peace, Samantha Shannon's The Priory of the Orange Tree (although I've lent this out and probably won't get it back), and Victoria Goddard's Hands of the Emperor / At The Feet of the Sun. They're all pretty chunky, without doing any specific investigation.

Longest series I own all the books to: Elinor M. Brent-Dyer's Chalet School series (approx 62 books, depending on which editions you own). After that, Lois McMaster Bujold's Vorkosigan series.

Prettiest book I own: I don't own any where the cover is the prettiest thing I've ever seen, but I do own a queer historical photography book where together the inside and out is the prettiest visual history. Some of my books are v pretty because of the way they make me feel, but that's a different question.

A book or series I wish more people knew about: Maybe Hands of the Emperor by Victoria Goddard? There's a core few of us that feel a lot about it. One of my very oldest internet friends that I haven't seen in years sent me a package earlier in the year that was just a notebook that had reminded her of this book and therefore it was a necessity to share it with me (she was right to do this). I also kind of want more people to talk to about Joan Aiken's Black Hearts in Battersea series.

Book I’m reading now: I'm listening to Jingo by Terry Pratchett, have just picked up the second Sandman volume, and I'm partway through Our Wives Under The Sea by Julia Armfield (although I realised last night that it was too creepy for me to read in bed, lollllllll)

Book that’s been on my TBR list for a while but I still haven’t gotten around to it: BRB just going to stare into an invisible camera, my goodreads to read pile is 462 books long and is only made up of stuff that I own / once owned and is probably not up to date with paperbacks. Let's say The Simarillion, because I've probably intended to read that since I was a kid (and have not yet managed it). I've read 133 books so far this year and yet my to read pile never gets any fucking smaller.

Do you have any books in a language other than English: Nope. I used to own some HP books in German and Latin but I did not keep them. I am not very good at languages, although me and the Duolingo owl are trapped in a daily standoff.

Paperback, hardcover or ebook?: Mixture of all three. Love a good paperback but I am... gently allergic to paper, so sometimes if I've read too many paper books my hands pay the price, and on the whole I do believe that skin should stay on my body, where I've put it, rather than peel off and bleed. A healthy mix of ebook and paperbook in general, with the odd hardback.

People have probably already done this, but tagging @junkshop-disco, @magog83, @dearmrsawyer, and @pennyplainknits.

[miastideclock]

nightfood, bang chan

nightfood ˈnīt 'füd

noun noun: nightfood; plural noun: nightfood

a night meal, typically a greasy or unhealthy one. one is typically extremely intoxicated when consuming night food.

“we have to get nightfood after the club.”

origin: i just made it the fuck up.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

word count: 8.3k warnings: original character (she/her - afab - long, dark hair), mentions of food, mentions of alcohol, strong language, not edited even a little bit.

i was just gonna write down an idea i had, and seven hours later i had accidentally written the whole thing, idk this is stupid and came to me in a fever dream i had without having a fever :)

Cast,

Mila 24, adventurous drunk. Favorite nightfood includes gyros and tandoori baguettes.

Chan 25, borderline sloppy drunk. Favorite nightfood includes fried chicken and an obnoxious amount of orange soda.

Changbin 23, dancing and giddy drunk. Favorite nightfood includes sweet potato fries and chilli mayo.

Jisung 22, gotta peel him off the walls typa dunk. Favorite nightfood includes pizza with questionable toppings.

Lights were flashing, the intense beat of the music shaking the floor under the feet of the people on the dance floor. The venue was packed full of people wanting to enjoy the event of the night; a DJ from out of town. Raving and hyping each other up, going absolutely crazy on the floor was something Mila had gotten used to by now, as the DJ was at the club once a month, and she happened to work there.

On her side of the bar, the energy was a bit different. Just like the drunken crowd, her heartbeat was high and sweat was beading around her hairline, but unlike the partiers, she was rushing and stressing enough for her entire head of hair to turn grey.

“Six tequila shots and a beer!” "Absolutely not, I’m cutting you off."

“Jack and coke!” "Did I say it was your turn to order?"

“Can you make me a custom drink?” "I would love to say yes if there weren’t a hundred and fifty other people in line right now. NEXT!"

Holding three glasses in one hand, she made the vodka-redbulls that had been ordered within twelve seconds, all while taking the next order. Grabbing two bottles by their neck, she filled shot glasses upon shot glasses, handing them out to the patrons.

On the other side of the club, a three member group entered, looking around at the scene ahead of them. Chan, Jisung and Changbin had heard about tonight's event and decided to stop by to check out the energy. The club they found themselves at wasn’t usually their go-to as it was a bit of a distance from the city center, but going once in a while didn’t mind them. Without as much as talking between themselves, they beelined for the bar, as that was what they always did when they entered a club. Drink first, dancing and other shenanigans second. Chan lead the way, despite him most likely not getting anything at the bar. He usually opted for a soft drink or just some water as he didn’t love the taste of alcohol.

Not after long, they were the next in line, keeping their attention on the barkeep so they would be ready to order when they were next. What they didn’t expect however, was for the bartender to be as skilled and efficient as she was. She was around their age, maybe closer to Chan than Jisung, but not far off; and they could all admit she was beautiful. Her dark hair was tied up, a few flyaways and baby hairs sticking to the back of her neck, and her skin had a slight shine, both probably due to sweat. The three boys were all in awe as she held six bottles of beer in her arms, uncapping them at the speed of light with her bar-blade and placing them in the iced bucket on the bar. The guest in front of them took the bucket and left, leaving them to order next.

“What can I get you boys?” She asked. She didn’t smile, but she wasn’t by any means mean mugging them. She was tired from the hectic workload, and that much they could respect.

“Two vodka-redbulls please.” Jisung ordered for him and Changbin, tapping his card on the terminal when the bartender let him know it was ready for him. In record time, she had grabbed to glasses, filled them with the correct amount of alcohol, iced them, and topped them with the energy-drink of choice. Changbin grabbed the glasses as she handed them over, and they left the bar as soon as they could, not wanting to be in the way of the next patron. What the two boys didn’t expect, was for the next patron to be Chan.

“Trouble you for a GT?” He ordered, the girl in the bar nodding as she made the drink while putting his order into her machine to let him pay. Jisung raised an eyebrow and looked over to Changbin who seemed to be equally confused. Chan then stepped over to them with his drink in hand, and together they found a table.

“So you drinking tonight?” Changbin stated the obvious, waiting for Chan to explain himself. It wasn’t that he wasn’t allowed, but he usually gave the boys a heads up if he was gonna end up drinking. Chan returned a sheepish smile and took a sip of his drink, grimacing as he did so. “Not gonna lie to you boys, the bartender got me all turned around. I guess I just wanted to talk to her.” He admitted, then adding on that his drink of choice wasn’t the greatest. If you don’t like the taste of alcohol, you don’t usually order a gin and tonic.

The two other just chuckled at him, cheers-ed, and then got to partying.

After a solid ninety-minute rush, the bar finally quieted down a little bit. There were now few enough guests that Mila no longer had to rush at a million miles per hour, and rather could actually enjoy her work. So when a couple of girls ordered pornstar martinis, she decided to have a bit of fun with it. Instead of just grabbing the bottle and pouring the vodka into her shaker, she flipped the bottle and caught it with her bottom shaker tin, letting the right amount of alcohol pour out before she grabbed it and put it back in her speedrail. Flair had always been something she loved, both because it was fun and cool, and also because you could get insane tips from it. She continued on like this until the drinks had been strained and presented with a shot of champagne on the side.

“Wow,” it came from the next person in line when the two girls left with their drinks. Mila looked at him and recognised him as the gin and tonic guy. “Impressive.” She thanked him with a smile, then asked what she could get him. “Anything that means you can throw more bottles. Also two more vodka-redbulls for my friends, please.” He grinned, to which she returned the grimace. She entered the drinks in her system so he could pay, and then started the drink. A lynchburg lemonade was an easy flair, so Mila got to work. All while Chan stood there amazed at her actions, asking her a few questions about how long she had been doing this, etc.

“These are for you. Enjoy!” She smiled at him as she placed the three drinks in front of him. He gave her a quick thanks and a dimpled smile. Mila had to admit it was pretty cute, and internally wished he would come back to her section of the bar. It was a nightclub after all, so she was by no means the only bartender there, so it wouldn’t surprise her if they went to one of her coworkers and she never saw him again.

Her worries didn’t last for long though, as he was soon back, ordering more drinks. The brunette boy had only been served two drinks as far as she was concerned, and he didn’t seem drunk by far, but he did have a slight flush to his pale cheeks. More drinks were ordered, more drinks were made, and he was on his merry way. About ten or eleven visits from the guy, and two hours later, Mila could tell he had had enough to drink. He was slurring his words and it seemed his eyes wouldn’t fully open. It must have gotten to him all at once, cause it wasn’t that long ago he was standing in front of her cracking jokes and being all charming, making playful comments about taking her out for dinner.

“Two long island ice teas please.” He managed to get out trying to tap his card on the terminal before he was even done talking. Milas eyebrows pulled together in a concerned expression, tilting her head slightly. ”I’m sorry, sweetheart. How about a glass of water instead?” She offered, trying to defer him away from ordering more alcohol. He squinted at her, looking like he was thinking about the world's most existential question before he gave her a short nod. While she grabbed a plastic cup and filled it with ice and water, he started to sway gently back and forth, having to hold onto the bar to stop. She gave him the water and asked him to stay at the bar while he drank it. He did as he was asked and stayed put while he sipped the cold drink. Without leaving her position, Mila managed to wave over one of the runners on the floor, asking her to go grab the two guys she pointed at. Mila remembered them as this guys friends, so thought maybe they could be of assistance.

The two boys were soon over at the bar with their buddy, smiling at the bartender. ”You came with him, right?” She asked, to which they confirmed her suspicions. ”Yeah, why? Did he do something?” The shorter one of the two asked, Mila quickly shaking her head no, making sure that they knew their friend hadn’t caused any trouble. Yet, at least.

“No, but to be frank, he is probably going to be escorted out by security soon considering the level of intoxicated he is. So I was just going to suggest you maybe got him safely home?” She tried to come across as caring and as kindly as she could. She actually did care, but she also knew that drunk people have a tendency to take things the wrong way if you’re not crystal clear. The two boys then switched their attention from Mila to their friend, analysing his state. It didn’t take long for them to also see that he was much too drunk.

“Oh shit, yeah. You’re totally right. Thank you so much for letting us know, and have a great rest of your evening!” One of them told her and wrapped his arm over the drunk boys shoulder, leading him out of the club.

Once Jisung and Changbin had finally managed to get the very drunk Chan out of the venue and out into the cold air, Jisung let go of his grip around Chans shoulders. Chan stumbled a bit, almost falling onto the pavement, but caught himself last minute. “Why did we leave? I wanted more drinking of the alcohol!” He drunkenly whined, dragging out most of the words as he slurred. The two less intoxicated boys chuckled at their friend as they all started walking.

“They were closing. We had to leave.” Jisung replied, lying his ass off, just so Chan would stop pouting. This worked like a charm as Chan instantly understood and returned back to his overly happy and excited, drunk self. “Come now, let’s go get some nightfood from that deli we walked by earlier.”

Then they were on their way. The air was cool against their heated skin, warm from both the alcohol in their systems and from dancing for hours upon end. It was mid summer, so even though it was just around three thirty when they had gotten their nightfood and sat down in the empty parking lot outside the deli, the sun was slowly rising in the east.

That same sunrise held Mila company as she exited the bar after closing, making sure all the gates were locked before she walked away. It was a decent walk from her workplace to where she had parked her car, so she had plenty of time to watch the sky explode into a million different shades of orange, pink and red. After the fifteen minute walk, she got in her car and drove home with her windows down, enjoying the cool late night - early morning air. It had been an exhausting shift considering they had been two bartenders short, but she had made it out alive, and that was really all she asked. Tired feet dragged her from her car to her front door, but instead of inserting her keys into said door and letting herself in, she turned to face the sun and leaned against the door. A short minute of bright sunlight on her face was all she needed to feel rejuvenated from a shift like that.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It had been three weeks since the boys had been clubbing, having to drag Chan out of the club before he made a fool of himself. Correction, more of a fool of himself. The morning after their outing, Chan had woken up on Changbins couch not only with a raging hangover, but also with the most embarrassing memories from the night prior. He didn’t remember all the details, but he did remember hitting violently on the bartender. He had no idea if he was actually being smooth about it or if he was acting like creep of the century, only increasing his embarrassment.

Even though the better half of a month had passed, Jisung and Changbin was still bullying the ever-loving daylights out of him for that particular night, especially since it was because of a girl. ”I really hope casanova over here doesn’t pull the same moves on some poor girl tonight.” Changbin chuckled as they were all sitting in Chan’s car, pulling into the destined neighbourhood.

They were on their way to a friends party, their first time out since the incident. Chan snorted at the comment, reminding his friend that he was driving anyway, so even if he wanted to - he wouldn’t be able to drink. “And honestly? Thank fuck for that.” Jisung added at last, unbuckling his seatbelt when they pulled up to the right house. They were a couple of hours late, so the party was already raging. The setting sun was illuminating the backyard of the host house in a stunning few shades of light, really setting the vibe as people were dancing on the glass-flooring that had been installed over the pool so they had more real estate to move around on, and also less of a drowning risk with this many drunks.

“I know we usually hit bar first when we get places, but I’m going to find Minho and say hi.” Jisung said, almost splitting away from the two others, but they soon agreed it was a good idea and joined him. It didn’t take long for them to find the party-host and greet him.

“Minho!” Changbin exclaimed and hugged his friend, Jisung and Chan following suit.

“Glad you guys could make it! Haven’t seen you in forever!” He spoke a bit loud to make sure they heard him over the music. They chatted for a few minutes, catching up before a few girls wanted Minho's attention. “Looks like I have to dip. But get your asses into the backyard and Mila will hook you up with some drinks!” He said before disappearing into the crowd. The boys did as they were told and made their way back outside. The sun had set by now, the yard being lit up with fairy-lights and torches. Jisung was the first back outside, followed by Changbin then Chan, as they all wouldn’t fit through the door at once. However, while Chan was still making his way outside, he heard Jisung absolutely lose his mind laughing, Changbin soon doing the same.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Chan gave them a look as if they were crazy, laughing at nothing. Neither of them were able to keep their composure long enough to explain their actions, but Changbin managed to point in the general direction of their amusement. Chan scanned the area of where his buddy had gestured, his heart soon dropping to the pit of his stomach. Over by the far end of the covered pool stood a makeshift bar, with a professional bartender behind it. “Are you kidding me?” Chan sighed as he looked at the girl he had so humiliatingly hit on a few weeks back.

Jisung and Changbin took a few minutes, but they finally sobered up enough to pat Chan on the back and make their way over to the bar. They greeted her, not really expecting her to remember them as she probably met thousands of customers every single weekend. But so wrong can you be.

“Hi boys, let me guess. Two vodka-redbulls for you guys, and should I just give you the bottle and a straw?” Mila chuckled as they had all fully approached the bar. She would never have said that if there were other people around, but right now it was only the three boys within earshot, so she took the opportunity to mock them a bit. Two of the boys broke out laughing, while the last one closed his eyes and smiled as a red tint appeared on his cheeks and the tips of his ears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I had to. I’m Mila by the way.” She chuckled as she prepared the two vodka-redbulls that had been confirmed ordered.

“Nah, it’s fine. I absolutely had that coming. I’m Chan, that’s Jisung and Changbin.” Chan replied once he finally looked back up, mustering up the courage to look Mila in the eye. She let them know it was lovely to meet them and gave them their drinks. As it was an open bar, there was no need for them to pay for anything.

“So what can I get you?” Mila asked, adding pressure to the ‘you’, making it a conversation between only her and Chan. Jisung and Changbin took this as their cue to step back. Chan definitely noticed them backing away, but decided to not pay them any mind in case it made it awkward between him and the bartender.

“I’m driving, so I’ll just have a glass of water or something.” He admitted, honestly relieved that he wasn’t drinking.

“You know, just because you aren’t drinking doesn’t mean that I can’t make you a drink. If you’d like I can make you something alcohol-free.” Mila said and reached for her Boston-shaker. Chan accepted her offer, and soon she was at work. Grabbing different syrups and juices, she free-poured them into her tin with some ice and shook it up. After straining it into a glass over some fresh ice and topping it off with some liquid Chan honestly had no idea what was, she presented the yellow to red gradient drink.

Chan gladly grabbed the drink and took a sip. He then admitted to her that he was absolutely blown away at how good it was. She gave him a smile and a thank you while rinsing her shaker and placing it back on her station.

“I’ll go find the guys I came with, but I’ll probably see you later?” Chan said, slowly backing up while talking to her, the grass soft under his feet as he walked. She nodded and gave him yet a smile, then turned to the group of people that walked up to her, ready for drinks.

The night blew past in a blur as the guys danced around, talked to friends, and in general just had a blast. Before they knew it, the music had died down and people had started leaving. By now Jisung and Changbin was - not drunk, but very, very tipsy.

“Ready to go home, boys?” Chan asked as Jisung chugged the last of his drink. Much to anyone's surprise, the two of them nodded yes, instantly getting ready to leave. Changbin excused himself as he ran to use the restroom before they left, Jisung taking the opportunity to return his glass to the bar for easier cleanup. Chan walked with him, having an empty glass himself.

“Heeey Mila!” Jisung greeted when they arrived, the bartender packing away her kit and tools, most likely having brought everything with her. Chan didn’t exactly see Minho owning this extensive of a bar kit, completed with spill mats and fancy pour spouts matching the rest of the kit.

“Heeey Jisung!” She laughed as she matched his borderline drunk energy. She happily took the empty cups from them and placed them in a massive tray she had behind the bar, filled with dirty cups and glasses. “You guys on your way home?” She asked, continuing to wipe down her equipment and sorting it away into her bag.

“Yeah, ending the night on a high is probably a good idea.” Chan said and chuckled, sort of hinting that he knew what happens if you don’t. Mila fully understood what he meant and chuckled with him. “You need a ride home?” He offered, suddenly realising that Minho lives in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, and it had gotten so late that public transport no longer ran.

“That’s so kind of you! Thank you, but I drove here, so I’m good.” She smiled so big her eyes almost disappeared, really showing Chan how grateful she was that he asked. He couldn’t help but notice how pretty her smile was, her nose wrinkling slightly, the ghost of a dimple showing on her left cheek.

“Of course. Get home safe though.” Chan smiled back, starting to step away from the bar once he saw Changbin return from the restrooms. “See you around.” He finally added before turning away and dragging Jisung with him towards the car, meeting Changbin on the halfway there.

The three boys soon climbed into the car and off they went. The silence was a nice contrast to the loud music that had been blasting into their heads for the past few hours, especially since they now could talk at a normal volume and still be heard by whoever they were talking to.

“I’d call this evening a success, if I’m being honest with you.” Changbin spoke from the middle seat in the back as Jisung had called shotgun. The two boys had to agree, but they also agreed it was missing one thing.

“Where are we stopping for nightfood?”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Four beers, four fireball shots, four tequila shots. Chop chop.” The man in the bar demanded more than anything. Customers like these always gave Mila the ick, making her not want to serve them. But since she couldn’t refuse him service without a valid reason, she decided to just match his energy and be kind of an impatient dick.

“$87.29. Chop chop.” She replied in the same bored and unimpressed tone he had used, catching the man off guard. Mila then grabbed a servers tray and prepped all of his drinks, placing them on the tray. She handed him the tray without as much as a word, and instantly turned to the next costumer.

It was the last Saturday of the month, which meant the DJ was back from out of town, hosting his monthly event. It was easily the busiest night of the month for the nightclub, but for some reason this particular Saturday was calmer than usual. There were still a couple of hundred people in the venue, but not nearly as many drunkards as there usually was. Mila didn’t mind one bit, it most likely meaning she wouldn’t be absolutely shattered by the end of it, especially since she had to walk home after work. Her car was in the shop, and her ride had bailed about fifteen minutes after she got to work, making it a lot harder for her to find someone who could get her home.

“A woowoo coming right up!” She smiled at her customer, punching it in on her till, letting the woman pay. The drink ordered was three ingredients, so it didn’t take long before it was served and left with.

Mila had so graciously been given the far station of the bar for the night, meaning she got the least amount of guests ordering from her. So while she had some downtime, she wiped down her bar, restocked whatever was needed and filled the water station that was nearing empty.

“Are you busy or can I order two vodka-redbulls and a bottle with a straw?” An oddly familiar voice asked while Mila had her back turned to the guest. She whipped around and was soon face to face with Jisung and Changbin. She laughed at Jisungs joke, and then properly greeted them.

“Hi boys, good to see you!” She smiled. Had there not been a full bar between them, she probably would have taken the opportunity to give them a hug. Though she had only met them a couple of times, they had gotten surprisingly comfortable with each other. Considering most of what they had done together had been joke around, it made sense with the friendship they had sparked.

“Looking lovely as always, Mila. Hectic tonight?” Changbin greeted back, taking the chance to look around at the club. Yes, it was a fairly large crowd on the dance-floor, but Jisung and Changbin had mentioned to each other when they entered that it wasn’t near as many people as it had been last time they were there.

“Not too bad. We do have a few tables reserved though, and those parties haven’t arrived yet as far as I’m concerned. Might pick up a bit later. But what happened here? I’m pretty sure there’s usually three of you. Lost him?” She joked, grabbing a damp rag from the bar behind her and started wiping down the glasses that had gotten marks from where the water had dried on them after they got out of the dishwasher.

“Chan is meeting us here, actually. He was running late on some work things he had going. We’ll send him over once he gets here though, he probably wants one of those drinks you made him as Minho’s. He hasn’t stopped gushing about them all week.” Jisung explained, lovingly-mocking his best friend. “And two vodka-redbulls when you get the chance?” He quickly added, pulling his card out of his back pocket.

“That’s nice to hear. And you put that card away, these are on the house.” Mila quickly made the drinks and handed each drink to each guy, not bothering to put it in on her machine.

“I know we just met, but is it too early to say I love you?” Jisung asked as he realised he didn’t have to pay and put his card back in his pocket. Mila chuckled, then blew him a kiss and winked at him in a playful manner. Jisung went to ‘grab her kiss’ out of the air, but Changbin did the same thing. It ended up with them fighting over who got to keep her kiss, looking like two kids in the sandbox arguing over who gets to play with the dinosaur toy. Mila couldn’t help but laugh as she hoisted herself up so she could lean over the bar and give Changbin a kiss on the cheek.

“There, now you don’t have to fight anymore. You both got a kiss!” She grinned, Changbin looking at her and jokingly started to fan his face and pretend like he was freaking out. They kept up the jokes for a few more seconds before they laughed it off, letting Mila know they would be back at some point. She waved them goodbye and turned back around to continue slicing limes, as she had been doing when they boys came over.

It wasn’t long after that Chan came waltzing through the door, looking around for his friends. He soon spotted them at a table and made his way over, greeting them both with a variation of a handshake. They hit off a quick conversation before Changbin let Chan know that their favorite bartender was over on the far end of the bar. Chan gave a quick nod and let them know that he would be back in a second. They boys however had a strong suspicion that wouldn’t be the case, and made their way to the dance-floor as Chan left them.

Station four of the bar was empty when he finally made his way over, instantly spotting the bartender focusing on something behind the bar that was out of his line of sight. “Hey!” He had to almost yell to make sure she heard him over the music, but it worked as she perked her head up and her eyes met his. ”Hi!”

Neither of them said anything else, which in literally any other situation would be so awkward that Mila would find an excuse to leave, but for some reason she didn’t mind it with him. Even though it didn’t last too much longer, it was weirdly nice. ”Would it be too much trouble if I asked for that thing you made me last time? The alcohol free drink, I mean?” Chan was the first to break the silence between them. Well, as silent as it could be with the speakers blasting some Spanish song Mila had heard a million times by now. She quickly shook her head no, and got to work.

While she was mixing and shaking, Chan found it odd that she hadn’t put in his order, letting him pay while she made his drink like she usually did. She always chose the most efficient route according to what Chan had learned about her during their short friendship. Mila soon saw his slightly furrowed brows and came to the rescue with an explanation. “It would be kind of a dick move of me to charge you for a drink, when I just gave your boys vodka-redbulls on the house.”

“You’re too kind.” Chan smiled and took the drink she had now placed in front of him. It was the same yellow to red gradient as last time, but the nightclub lights made the colours more vibrant, this time reminding him more of a sunset than anything else. Chans original plan had been to thank her and then leave to find his friends, but conversation between him and Mila happened so naturally that he found himself leaning on the bar, talking shit for way too long.

A solid thirty minutes must’ve passed before Mila was suddenly attacked in a wave of customers. Chan knew his place and went to leave her to do her job, when he was stopped. A hand had wrapped itself around his wrist, his eyes instantly shooting to the place of contact, then trailing up the arm until he made eye contact with the owner. Mila was leaned halfway over the bar to reach him, stopping him from leaving. ”Uhm, before you go. That offer of the ride home, is that still on the table?” She looked like she was embarrassed for asking, but it only made Chan smile. He used his free hand to grab hers and lift it off his wrist.

“Of course it is.” He grinned and lifted her hand to his face and quickly kissed her knuckles before he finally left.

From then on Mila found herself looking at the clock on her till every few minutes, wishing time would go by faster. Events like these usually flew by, but now that she was actually excited for her shift to be over, time slowed down. But even with the slowest minutes known to man, three a.m. finally rolled around, meaning they were closing.

Security ushered everyone out while the bar staff was cleaning the bar. A lot had to be done after the doors to the bar closed, but Mila and her coworkers had gotten a good routine down. Before she could fully go into cleaning mode though, she realised she forgot to let security that three of the partiers were with her. She was reminded of this when she heard two of the security guards talk over the system they had through the earpiece she had yet to take out.

“There are three losers here refusing to leave. I need backup.”

“Bar," she started, letting security know who was talking. "Are these three idiots three weirdly buff guys in their early to mid twenties claiming they’re waiting for Mila?” She pressed down on a button that was attached to the wire that went out of the earpiece and into the battery box she had in her back pocket. The security the bar had on events like these were not the same they had on regular nights, so she didn’t expect them to know who the hell Mila was.

“Correct.” The masculine voice replied to her through the coms.

“Those three losers belong to me, so if you could be an angel and let them back in that would be lovely.” She spoke, following it up with an apology for inconveniencing the guards. Not long after, three guys made their way into the now brightly lit bar, runners and barbacks flying around with trays and buckets, gathering all the dirty glasses off the tables, getting them ready to clean.

“Sit wherever, I’ll try to hurry!” Mila said to the guys and then disappeared to help clean. The boys did as they were told and sat down in a booth that seemed to be mostly cleaned. They were all amazed to see the speed and efficiency of the workers rushing around. They were all working hard and thoroughly, all while talking between each other about the events of the evening, if anything of interest had happened, or just joking around. At one point two bartenders were sprinting after each other, one of them trying to spray the other with the disinfectant they had in hand. All this, and still the venue was sparkling clean after forty-five minutes.

Mila was soon stood next to the booth where the boys found themselves, her bag over her shoulder, her uniform now replaced with some comfortable looking sweats. “So sorry you guys had to wait, but I’m ready to go now!” She apologised as the three of them scooted out of the couches and stood by her.

“Nonsense, you guys used way less time than we thought you would!” Jisung waved his hand to let her know what she was sating was nothing factual. The two other agreed as they all started to head towards the exit. Mila was luckily not shift manager for the night, so she didn’t have to worry about locking up.

Mila motioned for the boys to lead the way as she had no idea where they had parked the car. Chan turned left as they stepped into the street and the lot followed. The four of them easily fell into comfortable conversation that consisted mostly of joking around and Changbin refusing that he was drunk, even though he had failed Chans test of spelling the word ‘bumble-bee’.

Time really flies by when you’re having fun, because before she knew it, Mila found herself in the backseat of Chan’s car wishing to herself that she didn’t have to go home. Her prayers were luckily answered in the form of Jisung asking the question, “Where we going for nightfood?”

“We should let the newcomer choose!” Changbin replied from Mila’s left, Jisung having called shotgun before either of them. Mila didn’t have to give it any thought before she started giving directions to the location of her nightfood of choice. Once the boys realised where they were headed, they all started cheering and getting hyped up, loving her pick.

“You officially pass every friendship test we could ever have given you.” Changbin said as they all climbed out of the car. He and Jisung had sobered up a bit by now, but not a lot. Making their way into the shop they didn’t hesitate to go up to the register and order inhumane amounts of food. Orders upon orders of fries and burgers, as well as way too many drinks. The amount of food ended up being so massive that the workers placed it in a cardboard box to give to them so they could easily bring it with them. They thanked the workers and left, walking back to the car.

Mila, who was carrying the box, asked for someone to get the backdoor of Chans car so she could sit down. She sat herself so she was sideways in the seat, her feet hanging out of the car. The guys acted on guy-instinct and sat down on the ground next to Mila, the car door remaining open. She then placed the box on the ground, in the middle of the circle they had created. They all attacked the food without mercy, grabbing burgers, fries and drinks, sauces and dips left, right and centre.

“This is easily the best meal I’ve ever had.” Chan spoke, his mouth full of burger, causing his words to come out a bit muffled. The lot groaned and hummed in agreement, their mouth equally full of greasy food. “Hear, hear!”

The silence once again came over them, leaving them to enjoy their food in peace and quiet as they were the only people in the parking lot. It made sense considering it was nearing four thirty in the morning, and the sun was starting to rise. The sky breaking into colours would never stop being amazing, no matter how many times Mila saw it happen.

The sun continued to rise while they ate, and continued still when they had announced themselves finished.

“Are you working next Friday?” Jisung suddenly asked, directing the question to Mila. She had to give it a quick thought, but ultimately shook her head no. “We’re having a party! You should come!”

Mila nodded quickly, grabbing a napkin to wipe her mouth. She then pulled out her phone while she continued to talk. “I can send you my rates and my menus if you’d like.” Her tapping away on her phone was quickly interrupted when Chan corrected her.

“No, no, no. Not to work, you should come to party! Be a person!” He spoke, letting her know she had misunderstood. Mila clicked her phone shut, no longer needing the work-files she was looking for. She asked them if they were sure, to which they all agreed. “We would love to have you there!” A smile grew on her face as she nodded yet again, happy to have been mistaken.

Conversation then floated on, topics changing every few moments all while the sun still rose to wake the world.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Message to: Chan :)

I’m on a street with a weird amount of brightly coloured houses.. Does that sound right? Read 00:09

Message from: Chan :)

Yup! End of the street, Bin is standing outside talking on the phone right now, you should be able to spot him any second

Message to: Chan :)

Splendid, see you in a few x Read 00:12

Chan reacted to your message with a heart.

Mila continued walking down the street, keeping her eyes peeled as she did so. Soon she spotted the buff baby walking slowly back and forth, red solo cup in one hand, phone pressed against his ear in the other. She picked up her pace slightly, hurrying over to her friend and sending him a wave as soon as he noticed her. The call seemed to be of importance, so he kept talking while he gave her a hug and a nod, signalling he would be right in. Mila instinctively returned the hug and nodded as a reply, making her way inside the house.

Music blared through the entire house, Mila feeling the vibrations of the bass in her bones as soon as she stepped over the threshold. She had strategically arrived a bit late so she wouldn’t be stuck in the awkward early phase of the party, so a solid crowd had already formed. There were people everywhere; kitchen, living room, hallways, bathrooms, and Mila was almost certain she had seen a group of people make their way upstairs.

Pushing her way through the sweaty bodies, she finally got to the kitchen where the island was covered in whatever you would need to make a drink. A few people stood there, concocting their poison of choice, Mila internally wincing at their methods, but didn’t want to say anything. After taking a shot with a random guy, she mixed herself a drink and maneuvered herself back into the living room. It was first then she realised the crowd in there were all facing something, a DJ booth with none other than Jisung and Chan behind it. From the looks of it, they were mixing as they played, impressing Mila enough to push to the front. She knew the song they were mixing, so she instantly sang along. The music was proper loud, so she didn’t worry that anyone could hear her tone-deafness.

It honestly felt like a concert with the way they were jumping up and down behind the booth, hyping up the crowd that seemed to match their energy. Mila found herself dancing along, first alone but suddenly a pair of strong arms wrapped around her and shook her playfully. She whipped around when given the chance and was face to face with Changbin who was now dancing with her. “Shouldn’t you be up there?” Mila leaned in to Changbin’s ear so he could easily hear her, assuming he was part of the entertainment.

“Shouldn’t you?” He rebutted, making the bartender squeeze her face together in a confused grimace. Before she could as much as catch her breath, Changbin had grabbed her hand and dragged her towards the side of the booth, entering both himself and Mila. Chan and Jisung’s faces lit up once they saw the two and moved over a tad bit to make room for them to jam out with them.

It was first now that Mila could see how many people were actually there, but she didn’t seem to care. As a bartender, she was used to drunk people looking at her, so she didn’t mind being up there, front and centre.

Their set didn’t last forever, so when they finally needed a break, they played some pre-mixed tracks and scurried to the kitchen to get something to drink.

“Where in the fuck did that come from?!” Mila exclaimed once she was making them all sorts of different drinks, even though they told her she didn’t need to.

“Come to think of it, I guess we’ve never told you what we do for a living.” Jisung chuckled as he sipped the drink she had just given him.

The four of them had gotten to know each other a solid amount considering how long they had been sitting in the empty parking lot, eating fries and talking - but it didn’t dawn on Mila until now that they had only talked about stuff that didn’t mean anything in the real world. She had no idea what they did for work, how old they were (though she had guessed them all to be around her own age), or in general what their deal was. What she did know though was Changbin’s deepest fears, why Chan was so attached to music and how to comfort Jisung when he was upset.

“You do this for a living?!” Mila exclaimed yet again, stopping whatever she was doing with her hands to fully punctuate how shocked she was. The three of them laughed and nodded.

“We’re producers!”

It was when Mila then asked what else she was missing that the conversation really took off. They had all ended up grabbing stools to sit by the kitchen island, filling her in on quite literally every single detail of their lives, making sure she was catching everything. Minutes of talking quickly ticked into hours, and the only reason they were pulled out of their own little world was when one of their friends came over and asked when they were going to be playing again.

“Oh shit, our fifteen minute break turned into sixty-five. We’ll be right there, Hyunjin.” Chan replied after checking his phone for the time. They then excused themselves to go finish their set, but Mila only ushered them away, letting them know she would be watching them from the back.

Not long after they disappeared, the vibe of the music changed completely, signalling that they were back. Mila grabbed her drink and moved to the living room, only to see that it was completely packed. She looked around for a place to watch from, and her eyes finally landed on the staircase. She pushed and forced herself through the crowd until she was at the bottom step, then she climbed a few of them to sit down. From her spot she could perfectly see all three of them, as well as most of the crowd.

She sat there for a while, moving her body to the music as much as she could while still being seated. However, she found herself stopping when she looked back at the performers and made eye contact with one of them. Chan had his eyes buried deep within her, in a manner that surprisingly made Mila shiver. It seemed like he noticed, cause he gave her a smile and a wink. A smile erupted on her lips at his actions, his eyes shifting away from her at last. He was however smiling as he looked down at his mixing board, twisting knobs and pushing buttons.

The warm feeling Mila suddenly felt was too much for her to stop smiling, even when her cheeks started hurting. She leaned her head against the railing she was sitting against, her eyes still fixated on the three guys. One more than the others.

Her attention was torn away from them when her phone started blowing up in her pocket, forcing her to check it in case of an emergency. Luckily it was just the group-chat she had with her colleagues, the lot talking about something that just happened at the club. Something about an old man busting hella moves.

Just as she went to put the phone back in her pocket, she noticed someone was standing at her feet. Looking up she was met to face none other than the flirty producer himself. “Chan? Why are you all the way over here?” She quickly questioned, looking back over to the booth where Jisung and Changbin was now stood alone. The two guys seemed to be enjoying themselves a ridiculous amount, so she suspected they didn’t mind that Chan had detoured ever so slightly.

“You don’t seem like you’re having fun, so I’m kidnapping you.” Chan replied with the biggest smile on his face, only confusing Mila more.

“Are you kidding me? You guys are so talented!” She rebutted, but Chan didn’t seem to be having any of it.

“You can think we are the world's most talented dj’s as much as you want, that doesn’t mean you’re having fun. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He said and reached out his hand for Mila to grab. She tilted her head ever so slightly and gave him a smile. She then shook her head with a happy sigh and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her through the crowd and out the front door.

Time had passed faster than either of them had thought, cause the pitch black outside they had expected was nowhere to be found, instead it looked like it was about be dawn, causing Chan to check the time. “How is it almost three thirty in the morning already?”

“No idea, but what I do know is that I am hungry as hell.” Mila replied and started walking in the general direction of the closest shop. After a few meters, she turned around , walking backwards now. “You coming?” She asked as Chan was still stood on the porch. Mila stretched out her arms while still moving backwards, waiting for him to do anything. This seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was stuck in, sprinting towards Mila, who by now had made it a decent distance. He came running right at her, bending down slightly as he came up to her so he could pick her up and throw her over his shoulder, continuing to run down the road. Mila was screaming and laughing at his actions, playfully hitting her hands on his back, squealing for him to let her down.

He didn’t make it far before he finally placed her back on the ground, laughing hysterically as he did so, Mila doubled over laughing as well. “Let’s go, dweeb.”

The walk wasn’t long until they found a shop that held open. Mila got a chicken baguette they had in the display window, while Chan went for fried chicken. They also ordered the largest serving of orange soda that they could, agreeing that they could share. After receiving their food, they stepped back outside, looking around for a place to sit. With no benches or curbs in sight, Mila decided to get creative.

“I have an idea.” She announced, walking to the back of the building they had just been in. At the back stood a massive container and a few boxes. She then handed her food to Chan for him to hold, then arranged the boxes so she could climb them to get to the top of the container. She then stretched her arms out so she could take the food from Chan, placing it on top of the roof she had now reached. “Come, come.”

Chan copied her actions, and soon they were sat on top of the roof, legs dangling off the edge. As the shop was placed on top of the same massive hill as the house they had just been at, they had a stunning view of the whole, entire city. It was captivating to say the least, especially when the clock ticked on enough for the sun to peak its glowing head over the horizon, illuminating the city as well as Mila and Chan’s faces.

“I’m glad you kidnapped me. This is incredible.” Mila admitted before taking a sip of their shared drink. Chan looked over at her with a smile on his face, bravely placing his hand on her thigh and giving it a squeeze as he did so. Her reaction consisted of turning her head to face him, straw still between her lips. Their smiling eyes held contact for what they would describe as an eternity, when in reality it was only a few seconds. Without any more words being exchanged, Mila removed the straw from her mouth, then held it up to Chan, offering him a sip which he gladly took while she still held the cup, and he held her thigh.

They soon chuckled between themselves, scooted a bit closer to each other, and watched the sun fully rise.

Hope you enjoyed! -ben♡

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Dark Secret [Chapter One] Whispers in the Dark [Ace Merrill]

Summary: 'Forever and Always'. That is what Elise promised Ace when she married him. But how true to her word is she? Especially when Ace returns to Castle Rock playing host to an Ancient God, who enslaves the weakwilled and spreads its misfortune one disaster at a time.

A/n: Welcome to my new Castle Rock fic. One thing to remember while reading this is that it's based in an alternative universe. I mixed the movie lore for "Stand By Me" and the short story "The Body" on which the movie is based. Characters share their movie appearances, only older, and their lore matches the short story. It's also heavily horror-based with Lovecraftian themes. Please enjoy.

Warning(s): Implied or referenced death, suicide, unexplained disasters, unease, rumors, referenced robbery, language, religious beliefs, smoking, alcohol, arguments, Ace being Ace, OC, ancient beings, alternative universe.

No Minors Allowed!!

In the summer of 1973, a string of unexplained disasters spread through Castle Rock like wildfire. It was the year Ace Merrill nearly died. He reckoned, in retrospect, the events started when he broke that damn antique statue, but his wife believed it started with the death of Owen Bundy. 

Owen was a South Paris local, a big-name officer with the Paris Police Department (PPD) who was well into his sixties and pushing retirement. Those who knew him would often say that he was kind and generous, a man who gave more back than he took. For that reason, the community was rocked when boaters pulled him from the Little Androscoggin River a week after he went missing. 

His body was bloated and some of his skin had peeled away like an orange from the tissue, most likely eaten by the marine wildlife - Ace even made the crude remark that he had become fish food, a joke that did not sit well with some. 

An apparent suicide, the papers claimed. 

Few were in disbelief, including Elise, Ace's sensitive wife, who swore there was something unusual afoot.

“Some people, no matter how fucking well they hide behind a smile, are truly lonely,” Ace told her on the matter. 

Elise was not sold. She could not explain it, but something didn't sit right. No. She wasn't like some of the Castle Rock residents who insisted that foul play was a factor in his tragic death, though she did believe he didn't just toss himself into the river. Honestly, she wasn't sure what to believe. 

One thing was for certain, the entire town was in a state of unease. Elise could feel it. The air was stale and thick, and to make matters worse, a week later, another sudden disaster out of South Paris had dug its hooks in deep with the community. A fire.

Elise was in line at Brownies, a small country store, when she heard the news. Martha Young, a regular with a love of gossip, was in front of her talking loudly about the incident. Ace liked to call her a ‘fucking twattle-basket’, a nickname that made Elise laugh every time she heard it. 

She had to hide her wide smile behind her hand as the memory came to mind. Luckily it was just her, Martha, and Jessie Emerton, the cashier inside the store. 

“My brother said it was really bad. He works with the county and saw the damages,” Martha stated. She paused and drew a cross in the air over her chest. “Poor souls. I reckon they lost five.”

Elise felt her heart race. Five, and then Owen Bundy. What sort of misfortune was brewing in South Paris? 

When it was her turn to approach the counter, Martha turned and noticed her, painting on the fake smile she always wore when she saw someone she disliked. Elise heard she had as many friends as she had manners, and that wasn't many. If she turned up her nose to her enemies, then there would be no one for her to gossip to. 

“Elise! Why I didn't notice you behind me,” Martha lied, speaking like they were old friends who were reuniting for the first time in years. “Did you hear about those poor people in South Paris?”

“Yeah, I did. It's unfortunate,” she uttered, opting not to mention that she overheard her talking to Jessie. The entire store could have heard her. 

Martha frowned. 

“I'll pray for them all.”

Elise had no doubt. She was a devoted Christian, or so she claimed to be, but everyone knew she liked the taste of gin a bit too much. The aroma was strong on her today, no matter how much perfume she put on. 

“I will make sure to pray for that ruffian husband of yours too.” She drew another cross in the air in front of her chest, then turned and walked out the door.

Bitch. 

Elise tightened her jaw and tried to ignore the obvious insult. The chime of the overhead bell on the door eased her a bit, but she was heated. Her marriage was a hot topic amongst the residents of Castle Town. She couldn't be seen with Ace without a person spreading a rumor. 

Are those bruises she's covering?

Look how unhappy she looks.

Gossipers rejoice. It was bullshit, but it wore on her. 

Elise was warned about marrying Ace, by friends and family alike. They were opposites, but she fell hard. She was young, in her early twenties when he tossed her the ring; no ‘down on one knee’ or ‘special moment’. It was the best day of her life. Then he went away. 

Ace was arrested for attempted robbery and caught cracking a safe at the Mellow Tiger. He was sent to Shawshank Penitentiary for four years and not a day passed that Elise didn't consider calling off the engagement. But for some reason, she stayed. Love, perhaps. Rumors spread that she was lonely, that she had no one after her daddy died. At the time, maybe the rumors were true. She didn't know. 

Either way, she said ‘I do. Forever and always’ to Ace in 1970 at the courthouse in Castle Rock. Richard Chambers was the witness; wasted but in attendance. And she never felt regret, not in the three years she carried his name. Aside from his dark sense of humor and controlling nature, Ace took care of her. The scrutiny she tried to overlook, but it was hard.

Sometimes she couldn't control herself. 

Elise charged out of Brownies, ready to berate Martha Young. Narcissistic old drunk. A gentle breeze tossed her cornflower blue baby doll dress as she crossed the parking lot, carrying sacks of groceries and searching for the beat-up cream-colored Buick that Martha drove around in, but to no avail. She had left. Elise tightened her jaw in irritation. 

Chill. She isn't worth the effort. 

It still would have been nice to call her out. Elise took an uneasy breath and left the lot, heading south on Route 117. Her Chevelle, left to her by her father, rolled down the blacktop with ease without squeaking thanks to Ace. He was passionate about cars and nearly refused to let her drive it once it was fixed. 

“It’s too much car for you to handle, darling,” he told her. 

“You're too much for me, Ace, but I handle you just fine,” Elise retorted. 

She never heard a complaint after that, but his stern blue eyes turned to her from time to time when she hit 80 on Pleasant Road just after the Bowie Stream Bridge.

On Cranberry Bog Road, a two-story farmhouse came into view. It belonged to Ace, given to him by Junior Merrill, his father, before his death. It was the only nice thing that man ever gave him and even then it needed a lot of love and care. 

A sleek blue Ford Galaxie was parked in the gravel driveway near the front porch, windows down. Elise raised a curious brow and pulled into her spot next to it. What was Ace doing at home? He normally worked at the junkyard from 6 to noon, and sometimes he would stop by the Emporium Galorium to check in on his cheapskate uncle before returning home for the afternoon. It was odd. 

Elise got out and gathered the groceries, then took them inside. The screen door creaked loudly as she walked into the house, realizing immediately it was cooler outside. She groaned in irritation. The AC unit must have given up and finally died; it had been messed up for a month now.

As she sauntered into the kitchen, she saw Ace leaning against the counter with a beer in hand. The electric fan plugged into the wall beside him tossed his side-swept blonde hair out of place as it rotated from side to side. Even with it on, Elise could see that it was still hot. The white slim-fit t-shirt he was wearing was damp with sweat.

“I see the air is out,” Elise mentioned, setting the sacks down on the table.

“Compressor is bad. It would be cheaper to buy a new unit than to waste money tryin’ to fix it,” Ace retorted. He gulped down the rest of his beer and then crushed the can, earning a wide-eyed look from his wife. 

Elise sighed. 

“Bobbie won't take those if you crush them.”

“Take ‘em to the scrap yard. You get more money for them,” Ace retorted. 

He was always suggesting better ways for Elise to earn more, but she was stubborn. The grocery store was paying her in dimes and nickels for the cans; the scrap yard would pay her more, and he could crush them without one of her ‘I can't believe you just did that’ looks. 

Walking over to the sacks on the table, he looked through them, narrowing his eyes as he realized that she had not bought more beer, an action that didn't go unnoticed by Elise. 

“My check was less than I thought it would be. ”

Ace hummed. Cheap ass bozo. Mason Gilmore, the practice manager at Castle Rock Family Practice, was just sore because Elise was not hot for him, a statement that his wife always laughed off. 

“Mason? He's just overly nice,” Elise had stated. 

“All guys who wanna get laid are overly nice.”

Ace knew he acted the same way when he first met Elise. Hook, line, and sinker.

Who caught who, though? 

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her against his chest despite the uncomfortable heat. She was thick in the thighs with a round butt, fitting to him like a glove. 

Elise chuckled as Ace's short scruffy beard tickled her neck. He leaned in and blew air in her ear. 

“That's because you won't wear those cute cutoffs I like. Let him look but not touch.”

Elise snorted and turned up her eyes. 

“He's a good man. A Baptist.”

“Then he can thank God for what he made for me,” Ace retorted. He smacked her rear, then went back to the counter to stand in the path of the fan.

It was scorching.

Elise emptied the sacks and then began to put the few items she bought in their designated areas. The cool air from the fridge was a welcomed surprise. It was a shame neither of them had the money to buy a new unit though. 

Speaking of…

“Did something happen at the junkyard?” She was referring to the reason he was home early. 

“I told that old fuck to shove it and left,” Ace retorted as though it were no problem at all. 

Elise could not believe him. He quit. Milo Pressman was an angry old drunk, but he at least went out of his way to hire Ace despite him being a felon.

As if he knew she was on the verge of reminding him how broke they were, Ace let her in on his plan.

“Pop might be starting a moving service. He has a friend in South Paris who needs some antiques moved to Jerusalem's Lot. If I do this, that cheap fucker might let me in on the business. I'll make more, a hell of a lot more than I was at the junkyard.” 

Elise was happy for him, she was, but he should have made sure first before he quit his job. Reginald “Pop” Merrill was his uncle, but he was also a greedy old man who cared little about his family. 

“Hon, your uncle is just…not reliable. It feels too good to be true.” 

Ace tightened his jaw. He knew how bad his family was. Hell, he made mistakes too, but it still irritated the hell out of him when Elise tossed their faults in his face. 

“You married into this family, darling. But that doesn't make you an expert.”

Elise took an uneasy breath. 

“I'm not trying to belittle you, Ace, or your family, but times are different. We need to start thinking about tomorrow and not just how we plan to make it through today.”

“What the fuck do you think I'm doing?” The blonde snapped. He pointed his finger to nowhere in particular. “I'm out there bustin’ my ass every day only to come home to you, breakin’ my balls.” 

Elise had nothing more to say; warm tears stung her eyes. Was she really putting so much of a strain on him? Did he really feel this way? She averted her attention to the floor, wanting to think about anything but this, but Ace walked forward and turned her toward him.

“Forever and always, remember.”

Elise shook her head the best she could with Ace's fingers holding her jaw. Of course, she remembered. She said it in her wedding vows.

He stared at her a moment, eyes as dark and stormy as the sea, then released her. 

“Don't bother waiting up.” 

Ace stormed out of the house, letting the screen door crack against the frame, a sound that for some reason made Elise overly nervous. She sprinted out onto the porch to catch him, but he was already tearing out of the driveway, heading up Cranberry Bog Road.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Something did not sit right about this. 

–

Amid the quiet, humid night, Ace Merrill flicked the spark wheel of a cheap disposable lighter and lit the cigarette between his lips. He took his first draw in what felt like hours; his fussy ass partner, a man in his late fifties, had been smoke-free for three months and pitched a fit when he lit up in his truck once they left Castle Rock, so he had no option but to go cold turkey for the 18-mile long stretch to South Paris. 

The nicotine made him feel a little less antsy, standing beside the moving truck near some shady as fuck alley while he waited. The cargo was loaded, but the store owner had another important piece she wanted them to take to Jerusalem's Lot, paying them upfront for the transfer. It was a hassle, but at least he earned a little extra. Elise could finally get her panties out of a twist about their lack of income. 

When Ace stormed out, her blue eyes were glistening with tears. She was an emotional one. He felt bad, but he was not going to apologize to her; she pushed him to anger. If all the cards fell into place and Pop came through, then he'd buy a new unit for the house and maybe let her go shopping at that boutique in Castle View she always talked about. 

That ought to put her on cloud nine. And put him in the door for some boss sex. Elise was always her best when happy, but there was no denying her ability to blow his mind when she was mad. 

If he pushed her–

The sound of faint ringing tickled his ears. Ace swallowed hard. There was an intense pressure like he had submerged his head beneath the water, and then it stopped. He removed the cigarette from his mouth and walked to the back of the truck, peeking over the ramp at the alley beside the antique shop. There was a dim light above the stairs leading into the store's basement that bathed the surrounding bricks a burnt mustard yellow, a light that drew him in like a moth. 

The old Ace, the free spirit, would have checked to see if there was a lock on the door. Antiques sometimes sold at a decent price. His old buddy from Shawshank, Nat Copeland, knew some guys who could help him find a buyer. 

There was a lot at stake if he got caught again, however. That was the domesticated Ace's way of thinking; the old Ace didn't care; the Ace who was whispering in his ear to man up.

Whispering.

Ace swore he could hear someone, but their words were jumbled, an echo of hisses and grunts that didn't sound like a language, yet he knew what they were saying.

Come and see…come.

He stalked robotically toward the alley, stumbling over the ramp once, but never stopping. His cigarette fell onto the asphalt, forgotten. Closer and closer like the voice implored. If the light were a Zapper, then Ace was an insect, walking in a daze toward it, unaware of its true intention. Unaware that he might die. 

Come and see…come…come. 

The whispers increased, so much so that Ace didn't hear his name being called until someone roughly grabbed his shoulder. 

“The fuck you doin’, boy?” Henry Rawlins asked. He was an associate of his uncles - Pop didn't have friends - a stocky man who reminded Ace of a lumberjack. “You on drugs?”

Ace blinked, then darted his eyes around the alley. He had walked as far as the corner, just before the stairs. What was he doing? He could not remember. 

In annoyance, he yanked his arm away from the old brute and fixed his shirt. 

“Chill out, Paul Bunyan. I thought I heard someone.”

Henry raised a brow and glanced down the alley. There was no one there. He turned back and eyed Ace suspiciously for a moment, noting the sheen of nervous sweat that clung to his skin, then grunted. Damn Merrills.

“Come here and help me for a minute. This last crate is fuckin’ heavy.”

Ace considered telling him to shove it, but he wanted to get paid. He followed Henry back into the shop where the store owner, Mrs. Libby, or Lindsey - he couldn't remember - stood; there were puffy bags under her eyes as though she hadn't slept in days, and beside her on the counter was a medium-sized box made of aspen with a latched lid. Chunks were missing from the wood and certain areas were stained black; it had seen better days. 

Heavy, my ass. 

Ace tightened his jaw. 

“Take the box out to the truck, kid,” Henry ordered. 

It's for the money.

Gripping the box by the sides, Ace lifted it off the table and knitted his brows. The black stains had a powdery touch to them like ash and came off onto his fingers when he readjusted them. While it had some weight to it, the box certainly wasn't as heavy as Henry let on. One thing was for certain though, it stank.

The musty smell of old wood and something akin to iron permeated his nostrils, making his nose itch. 

“What's in this damn thing?” Ace asked.

Mrs. L smiled and reached forward with a bony hand, petting the lid. 

“A precious package. Be gentle with it.”

Whatever, creepy lady. 

Ace took a step back to detach her from the box, much to her dismay, then turned and walked back outside to the truck. He hurried up the ramp, ready to put the damn thing down, but a headache as quick as thunder pierced his skull, shooting pain down his neck. His grip loosened and the box plummeted to the oak floor with an echoing thump.

“Fuck!” Ace growled.  

He was sure he heard a distinct crack from within. 

The headache subsided and then faded just as quickly, leaving Ace in a state of confusion. What just happened to him? He ignored the incident and squatted to check the box. It did not appear to be damaged more than it already was, but what concerned him more was inside the box. If he broke the package, then Pop would deduct his pay.

Ace popped the rusted latch; its hinges made a sharp squeak as he lifted the lid and peered inside. The scent almost made him retch. It was far worse than before like hundreds of old pennies were shoved into his nostrils. He covered his face with his hand, smearing the powder onto his skin, and searched the old shredded paper for the package. 

A corner of it was sticking out of the packing, a murky yellowish-brown rock that looked like an old bone. Ace reached inside to pick it up, but to his dismay, a fragment broke off into his hand. It felt brittle and smooth, then Ace noticed that it was hollow inside. 

“So much for–”

Suddenly a black smoke, darker than any shade he had ever seen lurched from the hollow rock like a predator and covered his face. Ace tried to wave it away, but it clung to him. To his horror, it flew up his nose and into his throat, filling his lungs. He sputtered, trying to catch his breath, but it seemed impossible; he felt like he was drowning. 

Then all at once, it stopped and the smoke vanished. 

Ace gasped for air, taking in as much as his lungs could hold. His throat was sore and his eyes were glistening with tears. Visibly he was shaken. He slammed the lid back down onto the box not concerned that he had broken it, then raced down the ramp, almost slamming into Henry. 

“What the fuck has your panties in a twist? You almost look like you've seen a ghost, kid.”

A stray tear slid down his face, but Ace wiped it away. 

“It's–” He paused. What was it? How could he explain it? Ace tightened his hand into a fist. “Nothing. It's nothing.”

He ignored Henry's curious look and walked to the passenger side door, hauling his trembling body into the truck. Henry could deal with the rest; he wasn't going anywhere near that damn box again.

Ace sat in silence, turning the band of his wedding ring around his finger as he listened to Henry whistle a jaunty tune, entering the truck on the driver's side once he secured the back. He started the engine and off they went, up Brigg's Avenue toward Main Street.

The silence between them was deafening. Ace stared out the window almost in a trace, watching the town rush by in a streak of vivid light. It wasn't until they passed a house that lay in a heap of burnt plastic and twisted metal that Ace snapped to like he had been struck by a brick. His stomach turned and he felt strangely sick. 

Wasn't that the house that he heard about? The family of five. It struck a chord in him, for some reason; he wasn't sure why. It just felt…connected to him. Ace turned the band around his finger again and again, an action that did not go unnoticed. 

“Someone actually decided to marry you,” Henry teased. “She must have been desperate.” 

No Merrill was a good Merrill. 

He grunted in annoyance as Ace ignored his comment, looking more unfocused than ever. Must have been some strong stuff he was on. Henry leaned forward and turned on the radio, anything to drown out the silence. 

[We've only just begun…]

An intense bout of anxiety suddenly overtook Ace. He couldn't make heads or tails of it; he could hardly think. 

[Sharing horizons that are new to us…Watchin the signs along the way…]

The music began to fade, sounding muted as though the Carpenters had been submerged in water. Their voices were drowned out by the eerie hiss and grunt of a voice that spoke in tongue; a voice that Ace could understand. 

Abandon thy will…come unto me. 

The last thing he felt before he seized up and went unconscious was the band around his finger biting into his skin.

[probably-a-mental-breakdown]

I am realizing more and more that my love language is just those fucking cringe poems about oranges. But what is love if not the most cringe experience on the planet. (At least for me it is. I hope I'm doing it right. I hope she likes oranges. I don't know how else to express it. I'd peel an orange and give her the better half. The silence of that moment would be louder than I've ever said 'I love you.' I know she prefers the words, but sometimes they don't feel like enough. They don't carry the same weight as what I'm trying to tell her. I'd let her choose the music for every car ride. I'd learn the words to all her favorite songs, even if I didn't like them. I'd stay up late just so she had company while playing random games (though it's difficult trying not to fall asleep to such a comforting voice. I've done that a few times). I'd do the dishes for her. She wouldn't have to ask. I'd get up early and start cooking breakfast just so she could sleep in a little longer. I think I remember how she likes her coffee. I hope I'd have that memorized by the time we have a life like that. And I hope we always have oranges in the house.)

I just wish it was easier to express that feeling. I wish there was a better way than oranges. I get her other gifts all the time, but 'expensive' is the wrong type of value. Home-made feels more authentic but the quality is never good enough to be given without a silent "sorry, it should've been better" or "sorry, I wish I spent more time on it." I just really wish I could split an orange with her, and maybe it'd say enough for me

[zombified-queer]

✨ 💫🌈🌿🎀💞🤍🍭

Okay this got kind of long, so it’s gonna be under a cut. I’m also going to be recutting the questions to vibe together as opposed to how they’re laid out originally lol.

💫what is your favorite kind of comment/feedback?

I love love love love comments that dig deep to really analyze things, y’know? Those five-page essays gushing about this or that. When people pick out the themes? That’s the GOOD STUFF!!!

🎀 give yourself a compliment about your own writing

OH MY GODDDDDDD. Okay first off, you manage to nail character voices and I know that takes work. Second, look how cute your little outlines are! They’re so organized (even if you don’t look at them lol).

✨ What's a fic you've posted you wish you could breathe life into again and have people talking about it? (or simply a fic you wish got more credit)

I think “Sloppy Lobby” for this one. It was super fun to try and figure out how to kill people using ONLY the setting of the Hotel’s lobby. And it let me flex my writing muscles practicing everyone’s voices.

🌈 is there a fic that you worked *really fucking hard on* that no one would ever know? maybe a scene/theme you struggled with?

You guys probably don’t see a lot of the behind-the-scenes but right now my current WIP (Managerboy Hannibal AU) is one of the hardest to focus on because I have a plot but it’s just making it flow naturally? A constant war between The Hotel’s own format and the flow of the Hannibal episodes. (And I’m one person trying to do a ridiculous amount of writing this month as a goof!)

💞 what's the most important part of a story for you? the plot, the characters, the worldbuilding, the technical stuff (grammar etc), the figurative language

I think it’s the mood and tone. I’m very Picky about language and while horror comes super easy to me, it’s harder to get the tone of smut right because if it’s the least bit silly I’ll hate it immensely.

🤍 what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

Literally anything Welcome Home related. I forget they’re not the Hotelpod where people being peeled like an orange or hallucinating wildly is just Business As Usual.

🌿 how does creating make you feel?

How does breathing make you feel? It’s instinctive and I need it. That said, big projects usually eat up a lot of my energy and require a rest period after.

🍭why did you start writing?

Why does a heart beat? Because it has to.

[storytellersumayyah]

8. camilla and tristan- memories

for alfiya, who always remembers

tw: food mentions

Tristan tries to eat an orange two months after the fire.

The smell as he digs his nails in so he can peel it makes him so nauseous he worries he will vomit all over the freshly cleaned kitchen tiles. Then he tells himself he’s being an unnecessary and dramatic little boy and he continues.

The peel breaks twice before he finds himself completely unable to handle it. And it’s ridiculous. It’s a fucking fruit. The scent of Camilla’s hair had been artificial. It wasn’t the same. It was nowhere near the same, but his hands are shaking and he can’t eat it. He can’t even peel it.

He would ask his father. If only so he doesn’t waste it. But that will raise too many questions. Too many concerned glances and annoyingly gentle words. And it will all be performative. It’s never because they care about him, and always because they care about their image.

He bins it. He covers it with an empty packet of biscuits from the day before. They’re his favourite. He didn’t eat a single one. He goes straight to his room, convinced that he can still smell Camilla’s hair until his face is buried in his pillow and all he can taste is salt.

At some point, he loses control of his cries and they turn into sobs. Despite everything, the walls of the manor are thin. His parents do not come, even though they must hear.

Victoria brings a packet of tangerines a few days later. She asks Tristan to eat one.

He leaves the room with shaky legs. He hates his mother. He hates himself more for not hating her enough.

Camilla’s mother asks her if she wants to take photos in front of the magnolia tree.

She says yes without thinking. Because every time they go anywhere and she gets dressed up, she takes her photos in front of the magnolia trees. It doesn’t matter if it’s winter and the flowers are gone. It’s just a nice thing to do.

But it’s not winter.

It’s spring. The cold has passed, and with it, the hopelessness that she had felt ever since she returned. Because she had made it through the darkness, and the sun was starting to rise again and again and again.

She poses, adjusting her dupatta as she does so. She wishes that someone could have seen her. So confident. So elegant. So convinced that she was the right person in the right clothes in the right place.

Her mother smiles as she takes a few photos.

There’s a magnolia in her line of sight.

She suddenly wants to get far, far away from their house. She wants to run and never return. She wants to break everything the way she said she never would again. She wants to look at her mum and scream. To question how on earth they could have ever let her back into their lives after everything she had done.

Her smile drops, and she walks straight past her mother, not even bothering to take her phone.

Divya pauses for a moment. She doesn’t know if she knows how to love her daughter. Every time she gets close, Camilla pulls away. And she gets it. She knows why she does it. She just doesn’t know how to tell her that she can stop. It’s her fault that they don’t speak the same language properly, but she doesn’t know how to fix it.

She texts her husband, asking him to delay things for a few more minutes.

And then she follows her daughter inside.

“What happened?” She asks.

Camilla’s eyes are watering. Her make-up is waterproof, but Divya wants nothing more than to reach into her bag and fix it for her. Because Camilla has never let her fix things, but maybe it’s time that she stop asking for permission and asks for forgiveness instead.

“I don’t know how you can love me,” Camilla whispers.

It suddenly makes sense. Divya doesn’t understand the significance of the magnolias, but she knows where it comes from.

“Because you hate yourself enough for too many people,” she says. “Because you made a mistake, and no mistake was ever going to be worth losing you over.”

Camilla shakes her head. “It wasn’t a mistake.”

And her mother knows this. But her mother does not have the words to explain that it has never mattered.

She just pulls her daughter in for a hug and wishes for another chance to raise her properly.

[journalofsorts2]

how much longer do i have to wait to get my perfect relationship? all i want is someone to share those small moments with, someone to tell me it's okay when i'm sad, someone to be there when i'm lonely, someone to escape life with, someone who's okay with all my trauma and shit because they have it bad too, someone who i can hold in the dead of night, someone who i could never doubt loves me, someone to peel oranges for. that's all i want, someone to peel oranges for. someone to share the orange with. when will i get that? i thought i had that, i thought i had that with her. i loved her so much, but i don't think she ever really loved me. i think i was a phase to her. a childhood friend makes for an easy partner to go through the after covid phases of life with, i guess. i really fucking loved her y'know? it's been like two years and i still think about how much i miss her. it's better now, i can live life knowing she hates me now, but the first couple of months were pretty hard. i don't think i've ever talked about her on here. at least not journal 2. i definitely talked about her in journal 1. god i have a whole section of my notes app dedicated to her. that's how wide ranging the emotions she made me feel were. i just looked now and her folder has 75 notes. some of them are dumb stuff from when we actually were friends but most of it is anger and sadness towards her after the fact.

god, i'm looking through them rn and y'know that one song that goes "i hate vegetables, but i'll put that string bean on my plate" well i put that quote and that that was how she made me feel. cause we used to stay up late and talk about how when we were older we would run away to some remote place in like northern italy or canada or iceland, and she would talk about how she dreamt of making home made pasta in the afternoon and biking in the evening, and oh my god do i hate pasta but the idea still sounded absolutely amazing to just have any homecooked meal by her, and so like 'i hate pasta, but i'll put that penne on my plate'. idk it was stupid but it meant the world to me. she honestly kept me alive back then. shit was horrible, i hated life more than anything back then, but then we got closer and suddenly i had a reason to get out of bed. she put my fucking name in a heart on my yearbook. like how tf am i supposed to get over someone like that when all i've known is rejection and hurt. she used to fucking say 'i love you' every night to me, even if we hadn't been talking that night. we had a special charm thingy that was from something she got me into and we made our thing, we both wore the charm proudly every day. it hurt so fucking much to come back after summer and see her without the charm. there was this one time we were out in the grass and another friend was with us, and her and them were making flower crowns and we were all just talking and it started raining and so we all held hands and ran inside but then once we kept walking they let go of each other's hands but me and her kept holding hands. it made me smile. oh my god, there was this one time where her and that friend were walking ahead of me side by side and there wasn't really enough room for me but whatever, it hurt but i'm used to it, but then she turns around and is like 'what are you doing? stop walking behind us and walk beside us!' and pulled me forward with a smile and omg did that make me want to happy cry. i memorized different ways to say 'i love you' in different languages because i (stupidly) hoped i would get to say them to her one day. one time we were sitting on her bed watching tiktok and she put her head on my shoulder and leaned into me and my feet were so uncomfortable but i stayed like that because i loved being next to her and we stayed like that for a couple hours until i had to go and my feet hurt really bad afterwards but it was worth it. that was one of my last happy memories with her. god i make it sound like she died or something. no, she's perfectly alive, she even replaced me like a week after she stopped talking to me. y'know how i know? she introduced me to them and then i got to see all the little things they did that we used to do. that was nice. god i didn't deserve her at all. she was too good for me. maybe she realized that. maybe thats why she stopped talking to me. i tried to fix things. i did. but she didn't want to. that's fine, she's her own person or whatever, i just wish i knew what i did wrong. i miss her so bad man. she made me so happy. i hadn't had that happy in a while, and i haven't had that happy since her. i like to think that maybe there was at least one moment where she loved me truly. just one. because i loved her. i didn't truly understand what love felt like till her. and i miss her.

[freshgirlblaze]

Jujutsu Kaisen Characters Headcanons

(I'm finally doin' it yall🥳)

Genre: Crack, a teeny bit of smut, fluff..heh

Itadori:

•Love cuddles and being close to you at all times (soo..very clingy)

•Passes the Orange Peel Test.

•Always takes care of you when ur sick/on period and hates seeing you so weak, Thats why he does wverything he can.

•If you happen to be his type (TaLl WoMaN wItH a NiCe AsS)...its over...he's all over ya with ZERO hesitation

•Favourite Position: Missionary.

•Can be a very shy guy around you, but become possessive and protective if another guy is hitting on u.

Nobara

•Acts like she doesn't really care about you...but she really does so don't worry

•Def has introduced you to Megumi, Itadori and the other Sorcerers that she spends her time with...and was surprised when u got along with them

•Absolutely LOVES to tease you, get under your skin. Its like her morning coffee

•(Me personally, i think she would be a tsundere, jus sayin)

•Definitely would purposefully rile you up all day...then you guys would fuck passionately on the couch.

Maki

•Is a very serious lover, but when she lets go of herself, she really does

•Loves to show you off to Panda and Inumaki..

•Often trains with you (Just and excuse to show off her strength to u fr)

•Can be a bit of a tease...but very intense lover as well

• Love Language: Quality Time

•Doesn't really do that much PDA (saves it for the bedroom🤭)

Inumaki

• For sure the shyest shy guy out there.

• Even though he can't talk much because of his Technique, you've been together for so long that you understand him

•Loves taking you out to get food, buy clothes. Anything you want fr.

• Because of his Technique, things do get spicy in the bedroom (For Example he tells you: "Stop", "Bend Over", "Open Wide", "Kneel", "Swallow"...etc.👀🔥)

•Love Language: Acts of Service...Loves to help you and get u anything ya need. Just ask.

*Pls don't copy my work, and if u see anyone doing it let me know, Thanks🔥

[ameliasbitvh]

𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓; 𝐃.𝐌.

a/n: i feel like i haven’t written for draco in so long, missed it tbh. so enjoy this and thanks to the loml eli for proof reading some of this <3 so half of this fic is not proofread!! (also i rlly wanted to use this gif for morning sex with fred so if u see me use this gif twice that’s why lol)

summary: gryffindor!reader makes draco cum in potions class and he fucks her in a quidditch cupboard to teach her some manners.

request: yes | | no

wc: 2k (2045)

warning(s): cnc, dom!draco, switch!reader, degrading, praising, use of pet names, dumbification, cum play, fingering, oral sex (male receiving) and ofc ur good old filthy smut. OH and snape slander LMFAOOOOO—

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!

navigation | | draco malfoy masterlist | | masterlist

you and draco were sat in the back of the potions class. snape was up doing his boring old lecture that you have all heard since the first year and it usually went like, “harry potter this,” “harry potter that,” “harry potter!”

professor snape, we get it lily chose james over you so you decided to bully her child who she had with another man. cool.

you rolled your eyes in annoyance, it was so repetitive. with a sigh you placed your head onto draco’s shoulder. he took a deep breath in feeling you so close to him. you put your hand in his, they enveloped yours, his hands were huge compared to yours.

“you tired, pretty thing?” he cooed down at you.

“no, just fucking bored.”

“watch your language, do i need to teach you manners again?”

“fuck off.”

“i’d rather fuck you, darling.” he replied with a coy smirk displayed on his pink lips.

you lifted your head off of him, placed your elbow onto the hard wooden table and then rested your head on your hand. completely ignoring him.

even with you not acknowledging his existence, he admired you from the side, his eyes scanning from your hair, face, neck,,, chest,,, thighs. a tent began to build up in his pants and it was all from just looking at you. the power you held over the boy was inevitable. every little thing you did drew himself in even more and more. they said that he’s shallow, but he was only falling deeper. deeper for you, in love and in you.

noticing his lingering stares you snapped your head to him, “what is it draco? is there something on my face?”

“no, but i’m sure you would love something on your face.”

“what do you mean?” you said dumbfounded, what was this boy talking about?

oh you would realize later.

draco had— has been craving for you all fucking day. seeing you walk around school in that short ass skirt, your tits being revealed from the two unbuttoned buttons on your shirt. your black, red and orange gryffindor tie loosely wrapped around your neck. oh, how it wrapped around your pretty throat, he wanted to see what else could wrap around it. perhaps his hand?

“you know what i mean, slut.” his dark whisper lewd from his lips, transferring to your ear. chills went down your spine, you pinched your lips together, biting down onto your bottom lip. you squeezed your eyes shut, you squeezed everything shut. peeling your eyes open, a smirk laced your lips.

“oh yeah? do i though, sir?” you pouted, hands trailing lower and lower to his trousers. each breath he took only showed you how vulnerable he was.

he wanted to bury his cock inside you, make you scream and cry, all until you couldn’t take it anymore, his hot cum filled up in your pretty cunt.

tilting your head to the side, you decided to play the innocent card but your actions told different. your hand unzipped his fly, you slipped your finger into his boxers, feeling how painfully hard he was. his hip instantly jerked up feeling you wrap your warm hands around it. “so needy, little bitch.” you said shamelessly.

“shut the fuck up, i’ll have you on your knees for me right now.” he groaned, eyes punched shut.

“then why aren’t i on my knees right now? too much of a pussy aren’t you?”

that was it.

he instantly removed your hand away from his cock and shoved you down onto your knees. they dug into the cold floor, you hissed in pain.

“a fucking gryffindor, you. saying shit that you don’t even mean, with all that damn pride. what are you gonna do, huh?”

your eyes immediately shot to his, hands trailing around his crotch, teasing him.

he asked for this.

taking his cock into your hand again, you toyed around, licking the tip. then you took him whole. his tip brushed the back of your throat, his head fell back with a groan from him and he tried so hard to hide it. you pulled away, he didn’t deserve your mouth. he would take your hand and be fucking grateful, if he wasnt, you don’t want to know.

he’s draco malfoy for god's sake the most spoiled bitch to live, of course he wanted more than your hand. but this is all he was getting for now.

your hand worked fast, pumping him, he bit his lip trying to cover up his moans. your other hand played with his balls, massaging them, bringing him closer to his high.

the entire class couldn’t care any less about what you two were doing, and as for professor snape he was too busy giving out instructions for the next potion you guys are going to do in class. or so you thought.

“ms. y/l/n! mr. malfoy! what are you two doing over there?” he boomed, his monotone bouncing off the walls. draco and your blood ran cold for a moment, out of fear, but you couldn’t stop. this was exhilarating.

“i- we- i dropped my quil!” draco stuttered, struggling to get words out as his cum decorated his pants.

wanting him to struggle even more, you took his cock in your mouth. humming against him, causing a wave of pleasure coursing through his body.

you couldn’t get any out because you had a mouth full of his cock.

innocent card.

pulling away from the blondes private, you sweetly said, “nothing, professor. just helping mr. malfoy out.” and smiled getting back into your seat with compelling eyes. your hands immediately crawled back to his crotch, pumping it again.

with a nod, snape swiftly turned away ignoring you two again.

draco looked at you, astonished.

“pick your jaw back up pretty boy, don’t want to catch flies do you?”

he slowly closed his mouth, but his eyes showed it all. he craved for more, he was starving, and only you could provide him with his needs. he picked his jaw back off, a sneer on his lips.

“what’s wrong baby? want more, don't you?”

“shut the fuck up y/n, lets just do this damn potion.”

“and all along i thought you wanted to do me,” you laughed, his blood boiled. he absolutely wanted to destroy you. He wanted to see that cock drunk look in your eyes as his tip repeatedly hit the back of your throat, like a whore. the more you spoke, the more he wished he could stick his cock down your throat to shut you the fuck up.

--

“so what are we making again?” you yawned, draco’s eyes averted to you with an eye roll. he was still so fucking hard, it was painful honestly.

“poly juice potion, idiot.”

“yeah, yeah i knew that already,” you threw him a sarcastic smile over your shoulder.

“and doesn't that take forever to make?”

“yeah it does, you have to have patience.” he deadpanned.

“oh- well, i'm sorry to break it to you draco, but i don't think you of all people should be making this. you see, you aren't exactly the most patient person.”

“why’re you being such a brat today, huh? you want me to fuck y’pretty brain out or what?” he mumbled darkly into your ear, so that only the two of you could hear.

your breath got caught in your throat for a moment, “‘s not me who’s being a brat, you are!”

“looks like i need to teach you manners the dirty way agai— you like that don’t you?”

“you like being treated like a cockslut, a filthy whore.”

“n-no,” a shy whisper left your lips.

“what’s wrong m’love? too flustered to talk back now?”

you stayed silent. but another word was about to find its way out from your mouth that couldn’t seem to shut up no matter what, that was until the bell rang.

quickly you packed up your things and raced out of the room. so quick that you didn’t even notice a certain blonde trailing right behind you.

taking a swift turn into the corner a hand grabbed you forcefully and pulled you into the quidditch cupboard. a scream threatened to leave you, until that familiar scent of green apples and musk invaded your nose.

your back was pressed against his front, his hard evident poking your ass and one of his hands covered your mouth. his other hand swooped down to your cunt, immediately rubbing your clit, then his hands slid into your panties, pushing them to the side. he slid his digits in your cunt. your eyes rolled back at this newfound pleasure spasming in your core. your wetness trickled down your thighs.

“is this what you wanted bitch?” he growled.

“yes, daddy.” your whimper was muffled against his hand.

“b-but, i want y’cock more!”

“and you said i was the impatient one,” he mocked, his tongue rolled against his cheek.

his fingers thrusted in and out of you harshly, your body shook at the force. each assault to your cunt, powered your need to be filled up.

he unzipped his fly, pulling his cock out and stroking his length. every time you saw it, you were shocked. even if you have seen it over a million times, you could never get over his size. he placed it at your entrance, then sharply pounded into you. a muffled scream of ecstasy left you. his hips clashed against yours, he tugged your hair with his free hand and continued to ruthlessly fuck you.

your skin clapped together, venomous, filthy and demented moans fell from the both of you.

you were so close, that pitt in your stomach was only burning hotter and hotter.

you just needed him to keep going, you gave him those innocent doe eyes, hoping that would keep him going for your own pleasure. and he wasn’t going to fall for them one bit.

“get on your knees,” he demanded, releasing you.

“what—“ you stumbled, you could barely stand.

“i said get on your fucking knees.”

you dropped to your knees, they hit the cold floor but you obeyed him like a needy slut.

he stroked his cock in front of you, teasing.

you looked at it with hunger, you wanted him so bad. you wanted him to destroy you, corrupt you, anything that meant his skin was on yours.

his cocks tip hit his stomach, you gasped at the collision, heart thumping.

he grabbed the side of your face, stroking it and your hair together, trailing his thumb down to your lips. “gonna take m’cock, pretty thing.” then pushed your head down, making you take his damn dick. you gagged following, but went into action bobbing your head up and down.

he tossed his head back, his blonde head of hair met with the back wall. he stroked your hair while you sucked his cock, and you moved your head repeatedly up and down just to hear him praise and degrade you in pleasure.

“that’s it, doll face suck me dry. like a whore.” he groaned.

his tip jabbed at the back of your throat, tears brimmed your eyes but you had to keep going.

his moans, growls and cursed mumbles filled the small space you both were in.

gripping onto your hair, he face fucked you. his hips moving with such speed, making your mascara smear and drip with your tears. he was so close and one odd thrust of his hips could make him fall.

he departed his cock from you and tapped it on your tongue. “look at you, so cock drunk baby.” he humiliated you, stroking his cock.

but this only aroused you.

“mhm,” you nodded in response, tongue sticking out, ready for his cum.

his hand worked around his length, then white ribbons shot out from it, decorating your face and tongue.

“such a mess, who’s gonna clean this all up?” he pouted.

“me— me, i’ll clean it up sir!” you nodded eagerly. pathetic, he thought.

he placed his index and middle finger on your face, scooping his cum off of it and shoved it into your mouth. you sucked his fingers, taking every last drop.

“your manners are back, good girl.”

🏷: @underappreciated-spoon-321 @o-rion-sta-r @orphixc @dracoscum @marrymetheonott @l0vely-lupin @kpostedsum @malfoysmainb @drac0spersonalslut @youreso-golden @yiamalfoy @just-a-smol-spoon @dr4cking @dlmmdl @hotgirlwhoreadsff @littlemissnoname13 @mvdbldd @f4iryluvy @itsmentalillness @pansyspet @that-slutty-bitch

special tag for the one and only @wolfstar-lb

(hmu to be added and if i’m not able to tag u pls check ur settings !!)

[poisoned-peppermint]

I'd throw this brick at you but that police car needs its window broken (Incorrect quotes)

More Incorrect quotes the bees demand it and I must fulfill their desires

Long post

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Velvet: Did it hurt?

Antfrost: *rolls eyes* let me guess, when I fell from heaven 

Velvet: no

Antfrost: What?

Velvet: *grins* when you fell for me

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Hey, you wanna see something beautiful??

Bad: Sure!

Skeppy: *holds up a mirror facing Bad*

Bad: *blushes*

Bad: *whispering* I wish you would stop sometimes…

Skeppy, casually: only when you stop being so irresistibly adorable.

Bad: *blushes harder* 

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Who the fuck

Bad: Language

Skeppy: Whom the fuck

Bad: *sighs* no

~~~~~~~~

George: you know I’m jealous of you

Dream: Huh? Why?

George: your partner is way hotter than mine *walks away*

Dream: wait but

Dream: but wE ARE DATIN-

Dream: COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT

~~~~~~~~~

Dream: *drunk*

George: Come on, let's get you home

Dream: I am

George: ??

George: whAt

Dream: I’m with you

George:

George: *dies inside*

~~~~~~~

Sapnap:Have you ever dated anyone?

Karl:No

Sapnap: *genuinely surprised* HOW!?

Karl: *shrugs* I don’t know, never asked, never got asked.

Sapnap: *under breath* but you’re so beautiful 

Karl: what?

Sapnap: what?!

~~~~~~~~

Tubbo: I was sitting there so like move.

Ranboo: *grins* Nah

Tubbo: Fine then *Sits on Ranboo

Ranboo: This is nice *hugs tubbo from behind*

~~~~~~~

Dream: Gonna see how hard I can bully the gay little protaganist kid until I get my redemption arc privilege revoked 

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: *sitting in Bads lap* Pay attention to me.

Bad: We were just making out two seconds ago

Skeppy: I don’t see your point.

~~~~~~~~

5up: I want to see us grow old together.

Fundy: Are you assuming I want to live?

5up: …Are you ok?

~~~~~~~~

Ranboo: Why must my feelings be “rational”? Is it not enough to sit quietly in my Hawaiian shirt, deranged?

~~~~~~~

Skeppy: I like my men fruity and pathetic. You wouldn’t get it.

~~~~~~~

Techno: I think killing people should be legal because it’s funny.

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: *mob boss voice* look how they massacred my poor little meow meow

~~~~~~~

Fundy: Vibe check! *eats your heart and absorbs your power*

~~~~~~~

Fundy, playing a rhythm game: no one will ever Fucking love me. Omg full combo!

~~~~~~~

Fundy, in a vampire voice: I vant to be emotionally stable

~~~~~~~

Bad: I’m well aware that I've accidentally set myself on fire and it’s none of your business. I don’t need your pity water either. Let me burn in peace.

~~~~~~~~

Bad while sipping apple juice out of a champagne glass and looking dramatically off into the distance: I’ve had it.

~~~~~~~

Bad: Blood is, of course, one of the greatest fashion statements.

~~~~~~

Tommy: Watch out bro…next thing you know i’m gonna be peeling an orange and sharing it slice by slice with you

~~~~~~~

Bad - mallgoth malewife manwhore

~~~~~~~

5up to Fundy: baby boy you are so cringe i want you

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: i go to home depot

Tubbo: i eat the tools

Ranboo: Stop it

Tubbo: crumch

~~~~~~~

Wilbur: No alcohol in this flask girl this is miso soup

~~~~~~

Bad: Do you ever get water hungry?

Puffy: Water Hungry??

Ant: Do you mean thirsty?

Bad: *blinks* oh

~~~~~~~

Tubbo: *Coming out of the shower*

Ranboo: Finally.. I can brush my teeth.

Tubbo: Brushing your teeth is the only time you clean your skeleton.

Ranboo:.......Thanks...I needed that weird out of the blue fact today.

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy: Babe ur eyes are like stars. There’s so damn many of them. Why so many eyes, my sweet eldritch beauty? Wh

~~~~~~~

Ranboo to tubbo: you alright babe?  you hardly said cows when we passed that field of cows

~~~~~~~~

Niki: *giggles cutely* i'm going to snap

~~~~~~~

Puffy: Diversity win! Im bisexual and im going to kill you!

~~~~~~~

Eret: *slowly removes heart-shaped sunglasses* I beg your fucking pardon

~~~~~~~~

Dream: Stop calling me a bad person just because im orchestrating your down fall

~~~~~~~~

Dream: half of me is a hopeless romantic and the other half of me is, well, an asshole

~~~~~~~~

Skeppy to Bad: “I’m feral and goblin-like” that’s great now can you get all the bowls of cereal out of your room

~~~~~~~

Sapnap: In my deffence I’m dumb as hell, your honor

~~~~~~~~~

Ponk : Dudes be like “I know a place” and then you end up chained in their basement

~~~~~~~~

Niki: “I could fix him” good for you I guess. I could be the only thing he’s truly afraid of.

~~~~~~~~~

Bad: I will never elaborate because I have no idea what I just said.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bad: every day I put on my evil little clothes and do my evil little tasks

*after the usual feedback* 

Bad: every day I put on normal pants and do my normal flippin tasks. That is what you guys wanted me to flippin say! Everyday  I wEAR THE SAME T-SHIRT I WORE YESTERDAY AND TOAST MYSELF A FUDGEING BAGEL IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT!

~~~~~~~~~~

Wilbur: ok first of all I didn’t “miss” the red flags I looked at them and thought yeah that's sexy.

~~~~~~~~~

Quackity: ok yes I may be evil and morally corrupt but I’m also incredibly beautiful and I think that makes up for it honestly.

~~~~~~~~~

Bad: Attacking people and biting them and killing them has many health benefits. Not for them obviously but my skin has never looked better.

~~~~~~~~

Bad: I’m not angry with you, I was being playful. I stabbed you with my fun knife.

~~~~~~~~~~

let me know if you want more along with the increasingly odd titles   

[kirisaki-daichi-scenarios]

a discussion of jabberwock with team interaction hcs + deeper nash analysis

for anon who asked "Can we get some headcanons for jabberwock members or like headcanons when they're together? (its okay if it was jason or nash only)" and made me realise it's about time i get these guys' personalities down

note before we start: cause i didn't know their names until i wrote this

zack is the bald one, allen is the one with a headband, nick is the other white guy apart from nash.

team hcs

nick gets bullied for being under 6ft, but not by jason

nah good old jason teases all of them for being short fucks, emphasising that they’re all 5ft tall in comparison to him

he 100% lifts things out of the others' reach and then laughs for ages after when they try get them

unfortunately though, they’re all used to this and now just ignore him. either that or nash stares at him so intensely jason actually repents and hands it back

zack’s another one with a very good glare, but he’s used it too often on jason and it’s since stopped working.

also jason gives me ‘straightens his back as much as possible when getting measured so he’ll measure in as 7ft’ vibes

oh and he thinks he could wrestle a gator and win. i’ve got no explanation for that except for the fact you can't tell me it's ooc.

allen’s very protective over his white headband - it’s his lucky item - but he’d never let anyone know that

he’s confident in his abilities like the rest of them, but there’s nothing wrong with wearing a headband just in case

(nash knows anyway)

they watch nba matches together and do not shut up once throughout the entire match - lots of jeering, booing each other if someone criticises a player they like, lots of “i could do that”, lots of “get your fucking hand out of my popcorn do you want me to punch you in the face” etc

they used to all live together, but nash has since moved out. he was sick and tired of trying to make people do chores, as the only one who kept their room clean.

yeah the others’ house looks like a heap of trash but also very much “where’s my toothbrush?” “it’s in the third coke can by the orange peel behind the sink” *silence* “yeah thanks” *a minute later* “who the fuck has been using my toothbrush”

they’re all “bro your dribbling sucks why are you on this team loser” to one another, but also very protective (aka arrogant for one another) if anyone else Dared to criticise one of their teammates

then again, what kind of person would criticise jabberwock

half of the time he spends with jabberwock, nash is a Single Mother TM trying to get a bunch of man children to behave; the other half of the time, he's just as bad as the rest of them

i talk about this a lot but i get the feeling nash is an exceptionally hard worker, but at least he gets to let his hair down around his teammates sometimes

nash is also the only person jason thought was truly ‘strong’ at first sight

and nash is also the only person who can beat jason in a fight, and also the only person who can get nash to train, and also the only person who can.. [etc. you see my point].

(n.b jason calls himself the ‘almighty me’, nash says that ‘even god can’t beat me’. point made.)

you know how jason silver’s motto is “I have never thought”

imagine him proudly stating that, before zack adds with a straight face, “yeah cause nash does it for you.”

in short, the team would fall apart without nash.

although the team’s communication and coordination is very fine tuned, nash is the guy who keeps everything in order off the court to prevent what is essentially a team of aces ('main characters', if you will) from falling apart

they hang out together a lot, but do all have other friend groups that do not overlap

team bbqs

unofficial rule not to criticise anchovies on pizza because the one time nick did, nash snapped

however pineapple on pizza is fair game, even though zack quite likes it

more than once, jason has brought a girl home and nick has stolen her attention away with effortless trick shots, funky ball manoeuvring etc

more than once nick has had to trek to nash’s place (with a black eye) at midnight to have somewhere to sleep

do you see a correlation?

oh and everyone in the team has been walked in on by nash when they were naked with some girl

nash has absolutely no shame

he apologises to the girl with a charming albeit insincere tone, and then remains standing in front of the bed/couch until his teammate does what he expected of them

usually it involves not having come to practice

allen learnt a few (emphasis on ‘few’) words of japanese before they travelled to japan and was disappointed that he never got to use them

that said, one of those words was hentai

and now a quick analysis of some panels

a) so there's at least one player who wasn't underestimating vorpal swords. if i were to overanalyse, i'd add that nick's wearing a hoodie (possibly athletic wear) whilst nash has a 'fancy' shirt on; perhaps nick wasn't expecting them to be going to host clubs instead of chilling/training?

b) i know what you're thinking: "how can you say nash is a hard worker when he didn't want to practice for the match". i reckon he was still pretty high on the complete and utter success of their previous match, that plus being around girls, encouraged him to have a more 'jason-y' personality. (either that or fujimaki didn't want to add too much depth/realism into nash's character bc he's unequivocally the villain, right? and obviously this helps with the plot and the jabberwock bad geniuses gom good geniuses rhetoric.)

earlier, i mentioned how nash is the only one that could keep the team together, and is thus the undeniable head of the team; here's a clear example. you can see both jason and zack have no interest in continuing - if anything, there's disgust in their faces, kinda just saying "we spat on all of japan, now we can go home". whereas nash won't allow for the slightest of possibilities that there might exist a team stronger than them, and hence agrees to the match. the key thing here is that the others do as he says without too much fuss.

another thing to note is nash's reference to harakiri. now what can we make of that, alongside his proficiency in japanese, in relation to his character? the way i see it, he's either a weeb or possibly has some japanese lineage. (you could spin that even further and say his mother was japanese, taught him the language, then abandoned him, and hence his almost excessive hatred/mockery of the japanese people.) (is that why he wanted to do another match in japan..?)

just a quick point. "thanks to him" - jason isn't so superior as to think that he could win this match effortlessly without nash's support. links pretty nicely with my earlier idea about how nash is the only person jason has always considered 100% strong.

yet another point about how nash is the strongest of the team in pretty much every way you can think of. you know how scary/powerful you have to be to shut jason up (after he's getting real pissed from being prevented from scoring?)

i personally think this is a pretty important panel, though i've never seen anyone mention it before. did nash grow up training in a professional basketball training situation, as opposed to growing up playing streetball like i suspect the others did? well, to answer that question, imma bring in another panel.

here we see visible rage on nick, zack and jason's faces - they can't accept their loss, which is fair enough. but i'd argue that nash's face seems to depict sadness more than it does anger like to rest of them, look at how downturned his mouth is - and he's looking away from the 'camera', as if hiding his shame.

when you combine that with what he says here, i have no doubt that this is someone who has experienced some proper lows in basketball - as would be expected from someone who's played 'properly'. he's possibly not even a prodigy like the rest of them - compare jason's motto with his. "i have never thought" versus "do not suppose opportunity will knock twice at your door".

there's various lines of thinking you could design with this - he might have been trained by alex (hence, himuro having heard of jabberwock, though he should have known of a team as popular of jabberwock regardless), he might have grown up with professional basketballer parents etc. but here's my own little theory:

nash received serious basketball training from early on - maybe because his parents were living vicariously through him, or maybe he always loved the sport and wanted to be no1. so there he was training away, but, as he grew older, it started getting all a bit too much.

he didn't want to dedicate his entire life to basketball. after all, his hobby is water sports and his speciality is boxing; that's a lot of different things to be keeping up with, whereas the pipeline for promising athletes demands people focus solely on basketball. as a result, nash become bitter: stopped attending practice regularly, got in trouble for trash talk of increasing severity, etc.

result was he was kicked out of the program.

only when he was no longer playing basketball again, did he realise how much he missed it. and hence he got into streetball, where he was tremendously successful as someone with so much training, 'elite skills', and the overly confident attitude to boot.

then, one fateful day, he met jason and the rest is history.

[whaleofatjme1920]

Ok so Ik this has already been done with ej, but I’m a toby simp, and I wanted to ask. Reader finding out toby is cheating on them? Maximum of 1k words, a scenario idk, smth. Ty!

-👾

It's Dangerous, To Love the Sun

[Ticci Toby X F!Reader]

[Warnings: angst in general, physical and emotional cheating, violence, language]

[AN: I listened to Brooksie - Not Into You slowed + reverbed while writing this, I hope you enjoyed! Also went a lil over,,, the word count because I kinda liked this,,,,,,,,,,,]

You love Toby. Ever since he came into your life, you’ve been happier with him at your side. He makes you smile, he makes your heart sing. You’ve never felt so complete.

The way he looks at you is akin to gazing at a masterpiece. His eyes are so full of love when he gazes at you from across the room, wondering when you’ll finally break away from your conversation with Jeff to be at his side again.

His touch is gentle, never harsh. Toby’s fingers trace up and down your forearms and back, ghosts, whisper-like kisses of physical affection in an attempt to show you what he verbally cannot express. He’s always so warm, so loving, so whole.

He completes you, is what you’re trying to get at.

The two of you like to sit on rooftops late at night because neither Masky nor Hoodie can stand the two of you giggling at odd hours of the day in their presence. Kate’s not around long enough to actually care. When it’s just the two of you sitting up here, quiet, against each other and breathing in the sweet night air, you feel more complete than you’ve ever felt before.

You hum out, watching the stars twinkle in the sky, a dreamy expression on your face as Toby momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“What’s o-o-on your mind, b-baby?” He asks, a brow raised. Toby shifts on the shingles, his arms wrapping around you like an octopus, bringing you closer and closer into his warmth.

You find yourself blanketed in him and relax. “You’re so good to me, y’know that?” You say.

Toby scoffs and rolls his eyes. “O-Other way around,” he corrects.

You tilt your head and shake it slightly, telling him he’s wrong. “You’ve always been so good to me,” you continue, brushing off his attempts to play down your saccharine words.

He knows you’re not fibbing, but at the same time, he refuses to admit to your claims. “I d-d-did what w-was expected o-of me, you know t-that,” he states plainly.

You take in another deep breath before resting your head on his shoulder, melting into him. You pick up his scent: oak and burning winter, before retorting against him again in a voice a hair above a whisper. “You’re wrong.”

Toby laughs, his lips pressing to the side of your head. “If y-y-you say so,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your head and eventually your face. He revels in the sound of your laughter as he does so, leaving no inch of you unkissed.

“I know so.”

The two of you fall back into a pleasant silence.

You’ve always viewed Toby like he has power over the sun, because, as far as being a proxy goes? He does. When you were first plucked from your life and called for something ‘greater’, it was Toby who had taken pity on you, trained you, taught you all you needed to know and the ins and outs of this life. He was the one who shielded you from Masky, Hoodie and even Kate at times.

It was by his hand that you survived, and it is still by his hand that you thrive.

It was such a blinding adoration for a man you believed held dominion over the sun that kept you veiled from the truth of what he had been doing behind closed doors, yet could be seen through the windows.

Naturally, you didn’t want to believe it. Who would? The person you love’s heart has fled the place it used to live with you and taken up residence with someone else. That’s not an easy thing to admit, not when you realize that love truly is not all it takes.

Toby doesn’t want to admit it either. It started out as some strange infatuation, a fleeting crush - someone he would forget.

But her eyes? Her darling eyes? One of them the most beautiful shade of peridot he’d ever seen and the other a literal clock? They say the eyes (in her case, eye) are the window to the soul, and she had absolutely snared his. She was beautiful in a way Toby couldn’t describe, beautiful in a way that had him seeing a sky full of stars in the middle of the day, and beautiful in the sense she was timeless.

Toby knows he should be ashamed, that she’s his little secret, that what he has with Natalie can’t be compared with you, but he knows he can’t let you find out lest you go too far you can’t come back.

That blinding sun made you shrug off the bruises that were too keenly placed to be a victim’s sorry attempt at freeing themself. You shrugged off the scent of roses and wine. You shrugged off how his eyes saw past you, no longer at you. You shrugged it all off, choosing to stay blinded than face the truth.

And you would’ve happily lived in that ignorance if Toby didn’t grow cocky and arrogant and so fucking careless.

You’ve never really felt your world crash and burn until today. You've never been burned by the sun until this moment.

You’re looking into the eyes of a man you think owns the sun and see nothing but fear, regret, and pleading. Pleading for what? That you won’t leave him? That you’ll stay with him? You feel tears well in your eyes as you see him laying in your bed with her. The woman who had been naught but a shadow until now.

“R-Reader,” Toby begins, quickly wrestling up in the sheets, watching as your soul leaves your body in the doorway. “B-Baby, it’s n-no-”

You’re at a loss for words, and frankly, you don’t think he even deserves the right to your thoughts at this moment. Instead, you hold your hand up, silencing him, and turn to leave the temp house. You were out doing work for your fucking boss and get rewarded like this? The man you loved in bed with another woman, looking at her like she owned the moon. You take in a sharp breath and then begin to beeline to the front door when Toby finally gets out of the bed, ignoring the cries of confusion pouring from Natalie’s mouth.

Your heart races when you realize Toby is gaining on you. Your vision blurs through your tears.

He’s calling out for you, his stutter even stronger than before, bones popping louder and louder as he gets hit with the weight of what he’s done to you. “Stop! S-Stop fucking m-m-moving!” He hisses, his calloused hand reaching out for your wrist, successfully grabbing you.

You snarl like a caged, wounded animal, flesh burning at the contact. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you sneer as you attempt to rip your wrist from his iron grasp. In your other hand, you already have the car keys ready. You just want to be anywhere but here.

“I-I’m so s-s-sorry,” Toby says, attempting to pull you into a hug.

You struggle against him harder, hissing to be let go. The keys in your free hand are getting threaded in your fingertips. Your tears feel warm and boil your cheeks as they roll down like waterfalls. The harder he grips you, the more you feel you’ve been burned to a point of no return. “God fucking damn it, let me go!” You shout, not even noticing how Natalie has come out of the room to get Toby off of you. She’s quickly gaining in the hallway, confused on if she should step in or not.

Toby tries harder and harder to pull you into his embrace, and that’s when you strike.

You take your car key filled fingers and punch as hard as you can, the teeth of the keys dragging across Toby’s cheek, successfully shocking him into letting you go. You don’t even consider how badly you’ve hurt him and take the opportunity of his shock to flee the temp house, quickly hopping into the car.

“Reader!” Toby shouts, hand on his right cheek, not even caring about the claw marks you’ve left. “B-Baby, let’s t-talk about t-this-”

You start honking the horn to drown his voice out. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a scowl on your face, glare holding nothing but bullets towards Toby and Natalie as she attempts to wrangle him back into the house.

You watch as her arms wrap around his waist - she’s surprisingly gentle for dealing with such a belligerent man - before peeling out of the driveway, hand still honking the horn and practically waking up the neighborhood while you’re at it.

Your mind overloads as you drive, thoughts of the sun getting eclipsed by the other celestial body that overtakes it in full, swallowing it whole. You mutter angrily to yourself, turning on the radio for just noise as you finally get onto the expressway. And you drive. You drive until your head feels clear again, and when it does, you’re finally able to focus on something other than what’s in front of you on the endless stretch of road.

Autumn is making its way in, that much is apparent. Every now and then, specks of orange and red zip past your high beams. It’s cooler, and you swear you’ve passed a few flowering pumpkin patches.

You look to your left, gazing out the window for a moment or so.

The moon is decidedly absent this night.

You sigh as the fires extinguish in your heart, loneliness, sadness and any other emotion draining alongside it leaving a pit in your chest.

The emptiness quickly takes its place, haunting you like the ghost it is.