#photo taken by a photographer here at our college

[highfire3]

ubc streak broken but ill be back next week if it isn’t raining cats and dogs

onion soup recipe

it has other ingredients but unfortunately the only discernible taste is onion

1) try getting some browning on the very finely ground turkey

2) toss in three diced onions

3) panic because meat is starting to burn and try to deglaze the pot with water

4) give up on haute cuisine and put in more water before the onions have softened

5) throw (not enough) diced potatoes in

6) simmer for 25 minutes

7) Realize that this is the leanest ground turkey ever and the soup tastes of nothing so add in an amount of butter

8) toss in orzo which was actually part of the original plan and simmer for ten more minutes

9) somewhere along the way put in some worcestershire sauce for color and. spices.

10) serve along with the turkey legs that are overcooked and also take 15 minutes to eat

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 5 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: a cancer joke about eating a burned marshmallow, mentions about Jungkook's injury/scars, alcohol, curses, a hot tub, a game of Truth or Dare; explicit content: hickeys, grinding, fingering, jerking off, big dick!Jungkook, unprotected sex (please don't be stupid), choking; angst

☆word count: 15.7k (oop)

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: SMUT IS HERE EVERYONE. I hope you enjoy reading this one!! Thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, July 6th

                It’s a strange thing, how when you’ve been working on something for months, the concretisation of it passes so quickly it’s like it never happened. The auditions were like that: you barely remember yesterday. All you remember is the moment you stepped out of the scene, breath ragged, and Jungkook high-fived the whole crew.

You don’t remember listening to the results. You remember the bubbling excitement as the name of the crew wasn’t said until the very last. But you don’t remember hearing the mention you got. The highest of every crew that auditioned from your state.

Because auditions for nationals are also a competition in and of itself. An innerstate competition, and you still can’t believe you got the highest mention of your level. It’s like a dream, and everything has been moving too slow, or too fast, for you to interpret.

Yesterday was a fever dream indeed. And the whole crew knows that it’s thanks to Jungkook. He refuses every congratulation you’ve all offered him, but it’s him. You wouldn’t have gotten the diamond mention without him.

Diamond… a perfect score. You landed a perfect score on your auditions to nationals.

You will get ripped up to pieces at nationals, won’t you? It makes you anxious, but then again, you’re not sure if it’s because you will have to perform at the top of your art in a few months, or because you’re sitting between Jungkook and Heather on the backseat of Hobi’s car.

Probably the latter.

You’re lucky. You were able to rent a cottage an hour and a half outside of the city, next to a small artificial lake. It was previously rented by another group, but they cancelled a few days ago, which let you have the cottage for the whole weekend.

But you don’t think you’re lucky to be sitting between Jungkook and Heather. Though both of them have been dozing off for a while.

  You’ve just been clutching your phone for dear life, because Jungkook’s head lolled to the side until he found your shoulder to be a pillow. It’s not that you mind it. You mostly mind the way Jiho’s been looking at you with the biggest shit-eating grin on her lips. She’s already taken pictures, and you’ve been planning her murder for the last fifteen minutes.

[2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: attached photo [2:37 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re so mad lmao [2:38 pm] You: delete this picture immediately or i’ll end ur miserable life [2:38 pm] Jiho❣️: 😘😘😘😘😘 [2:38 pm] You: 😤😤😤😤😤 [2:38 pm] You: and Scottie deciding not to come???? Even worse [2:38 pm] You: he’s a traitor😩 [2:39 pm] Jiho❣️: u’re just mad bc now u and jk are the only single people attending [2:39 pm] You: last i checked heather and bridget weren’t official official🙄

Jiho snorts on the front passenger seat, and Hobi throws her a curious look. She shakes her head to indicate that it’s nothing, and you watch as she types her reply.

[2:40 pm] Jiho❣️: bitch plz😂 [2:40 pm] You: besides u’re gonna share a room with me🥺

Jiho laughs out loud this time, and you wonder if the glare you bore into her profile has any effect at all. She just glances at you, an eyebrow cocked prettily. You know what that means: no. No she won’t be sleeping with you. You’re going to have to sleep on the couch, because couples get the rooms. Lance made that rule, and even though you were desperate to not let it take effect, everyone but Jungkook was against you.

You’re not usually in agreement with Jungkook. But for that you were, and you hoped the others would take it into account. You’re stupid for thinking that they would.

Jungkook sighs in his sleep, readjusting himself until he’s even closer to you. You gulp, glancing at him with a scared look on your features. You want to push him away, but he looks so peaceful you just let him be.

[2:44 pm] You: why is he sleeping on me tho [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: i’d sleep on u too [2:45 pm] You: u can if we share a room👉🏼👈🏼 [2:45 pm] Jiho❣️: nice try but no😇

You whine, and Jiho chuckles.

“What’s up with you two?” Hobi asks, and you meet his gaze in the rear view mirror.

Jiho shrugs. “Y/n is just mad that she’s going to sleep on the couch.

“I can let her sleep with you,” Hobi says, ever so the pacifist and kind man that he is.

“Yes!” you burst out.

It gains you a whine from Jungkook and a glare from Heather, before she rests her head back against the window and dozes off again.

“No,” Jiho refuses. “I want my sexy time.”

Hobi burns bright red as you let out, “Ew”.

Jiho winks at you over her shoulder, and then you all fall silent again. The cottage is still at least fifty minutes away, so you steel yourself as Jungkook shifts again. He mumbles in his sleep and you almost let out a startled yelp when his hand moves on your thigh. He’s not holding you, just resting his closed fist on the top of your thigh. But it’s still way too much touching for your comfort, so you push him away.

He frowns but doesn’t wake up, resting his head against the window with a sigh instead. His mouth falls open a little, and you keep a laugh in. He looks stupidly cute like that. It’s a disgusting thought – Jeon Jungkook is anything but cute – but you let it slide for today. Maybe because you can’t bring yourself to care.

You eventually fall asleep, the low music Jiho’s been playing lulling you to sleep. It’s much deserved sleep after all the anxiety of yesterday, and you only wake when the car comes to a full stop, and car doors slam shut.

You wake up with a start, ready to fight whoever made the noises, and you realize you’re alone in the car. With Jungkook, who has a tight-lipped smile on his lips when your gazes meet.

“You drool when you sleep,” he tells you, and you furrow your brow as you wipe your cheek.

Sure enough, you were drooling. It takes you a few seconds to realize he’s got a wet spot on his shoulder, and you reckon you woke up with your head rested against something. Something that suspiciously felt like Jungkook’s shoulders.

“Mmh,” you sleepily let out. “Sorry.”

He smiles. Sweetly. It starts with his eyes, as you’ve realized it usually happens when he smiles genuinely. “It’s all good. You looked peaceful, I didn’t want to wake you up.”

You echo his smile, nodding your head once before stretching your arms. It makes you yawn, which in turn makes him laugh. “What?” you ask.

“You slept like thirty minutes and you’re still tired.”

You glare at him. “I’m always tired.”

“Right.”

It’s a weird conversation, and it’s even weirder that you’re still sitting in the car. So you motion towards the door as you unbuckle your seatbelt, and Jungkook has a light tint on his cheeks as he nods and opens the door before stepping out. He stretches when he’s outside, and you scooch out of the car, imitating him as soon as your feet touch the ground.

“Gosh,” you let out, and he laughs.

“Yeah.”

You glance at him, and then your gaze slides to the landscape surrounding you. To the picturesque cottage that looks even better than what you had pictured, all made of logs. It looks straight out of a fairy tale. It’s cozied up in a little forest, and the wind that picked up earlier today still makes the leaves dance. It’s loud, like the sound of waves at sea, but it’s more constant. It doesn’t recede, and it creates a background soundtrack to the summer afternoon. The sun is still high in the sky, shining bright with not even a single cloud in sight. The air smell of the woods, and bugs fly around aimlessly, or following an aim only they know. The car is parked in the shadows, but you still feel the heat, and you’re glad there’s a breeze.

You take it all in with a bright smile on your lips, and it only grows wider when Jiho and Hobi rush out of the cottage.

“This is heaven,” Jiho declares. “I’m never leaving this place.”

“She says that because she saw the hot tub from the balcony,” Hobi says as he motions over his shoulder to the cottage.

It makes you laugh, and it turns into a giggle as Jiho grabs your hand and pulls you behind her. “While you men unpack the car we’re going to take a walk to the lake.”

“How is that fair?” Jungkook complains, but he’s grinning when you meet his gaze over your shoulder. You offer him an apologetic shrug of your shoulders, and he just chuckles before turning towards the car.

Lance’s car is pulling up the dirt road when you turn on the side of the house. You wave at Chaeyeon and him, but they don’t notice you as Jiho only keeps pulling you behind her.

“Look at this!” she says giddily as you walk to the back of the house. “It’s so pretty.”

It really is. The house is nestled right next to a small lake, with a few trees separating the building and the water. There’s a hot tub on the right, and a small rock path that leads to a quay in the water. You notice a fireplace area, though it’s not a circle of rocks like you had imagined, but an actual metal fireplace with a door that’s currently swinging on its hinges in the wind. Logs are piled beside it, just waiting for someone to ignite a fire.

Jiho’s giddiness is contagious, and you find yourself giggling as she pulls you towards the lake. There’s a small shed down by the lake, and a look through the window shows you two kayaks. It makes you even giddier, and you clap your hands before turning towards the quay.

The quay moves as you step on it. Fortunately, the water is not very deep and the lake is relatively calm even with the wind. You’re able to make it to the end of it without it shaking too much, and Jiho closes her eyes as she tilts her head back. “We should come here every weekend.”

You laugh. “As fun as that sounds like, we can’t skip practice every weekend.”

“We can practice here,” she points out, shrugging.

She’s not wrong, so you just smile and nod before imitating her, taking in the sun. But you feel a little bad for those inside that are setting up the house, so it’s not even a minute later when you say, “We should go help the others”.

Jiho whines, and she opens one eye to look at you. You cock an eyebrow and she rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

You walk back up the little slope until you reach the cottage. When you make it to the front, you see that a third car has arrived: Jin, Valeria, Taehyung, Jo and Bridget are all stretching outside of it. Jo notices you and waves happily.

You think it’s funny that she is here. It’s weird to think that even though she isn’t part of the dance crew, she’s still made her way into the friend group. Like Jin, Valeria and Taehyung, you reckon. Though you barely know Jin and Valeria. But you needed more people to rent this cottage, and considering it was the only one available, you didn’t really have a choice.

You move to their group to greet them, and then you help them unpack the car. You also help Lance, who was the one in charge with food and speakers for music. It takes a moment, but soon enough everything is settled. You’re all already hungry though, so you prepare the first meal of the weekend.

Well, you watch Jungkook, Jin, Valeria and Heather prepare it. You’re on washing dishes duty though, but you’ll only do that after you eat.

It’s fun. Cheerful. A little bubble outside of the seriousness of practice and nationals and auditions that you really can’t remember, can you? The light atmosphere is much needed, and you drink as you eat, and drink some more after washing the dishes. Then you all set out to explore outside, and Lance and Jin have a fire running by the time Jungkook figures out how to get the hot tub working. It’s still hot outside though, so you decide to wait before going into the tub, but Bridget, Heather, Chaeyeon and Jo all move to it. You stay with Jiho and the others by the fire, listening to the cracking of the logs as you talk and talk and talk.

There’s laughter. A lot of it. Laughter that turns more drunk as the evening unfolds, and the sun has set by the time you get up from your spot to go pee inside. The girls have come out of the tub, and they’re taking turns in the shower upstairs, so you head to the downstairs bathroom. You’re on the way out when Jo stops you.

She says your name, offering you a bright smile. “Are you in for some shots before we head outside? I’m taking some with the others.”

Sure enough, Chaeyeon, Bridget and Heather all look at you expectantly, and you don’t hesitate even a second before agreeing. You go outside with Jo and Chaeyeon after, as you all laugh when Bridget and Heather say they’ll take a shower together. You figure it’s better to let them have the house for a time, and you all join the rest of the group by the fire.

They’ve started playing some music and singing over it, and you laugh as Hobi belts a tune as if his life depends on it. Jungkook joins him and your eyes widen a little as you hear his voice.

Jungkook can sing. His voice is melodious, clear and full and round. It’s beautiful, the voice of an angel. You feel struck as you watch him, and he bursts out laughing when Hobi messes up the lyrics next to him.

You’ve stopped walking. And Jungkook meets your gaze, offering you a small smile before returning to the action around him. It strikes you, in a weird kind of way. It makes a weird feeling form in your chest, that same feeling you felt last week when you saved his number in your phone.

It’s not a feeling you like. So you push it aside as you join Jiho in her chair, sitting on her lap and stealing the bottle of soju she’s been drinking from. You need more alcohol in your blood, and soon.

It’s night by the time the group moves again. Some of them decide to go to the lake, but you stay by the fire as Valeria and Jin bring marshmallows out. Heather and Bridget never came out after their shower, and you don’t quite feel like going inside to find them.

Instead, you start roasting marshmallows, and soon enough you’re the elected marshmallow roaster, because you’re the only one who’s managed to not make them catch fire. You make some for everyone, before roasting one for yourself.

Since Jungkook has been the one feeding the fire for the last hour, it also makes it so you’re sitting next to him. The conversation is lively around you, but you’ve noticed he’s silent. He’s just staring at the fire, and it casts a dancing glow on his features.

He notices you looking at him, and his features soften as he turns to look at you. And then he bursts out laughing, and you do too as you notice your marshmallow has caught fire.

“Oops,” you mumble.

“I know I’m pretty but you should focus on the job at hand,” he teases you.

You punch him in the shoulder, before blowing on the fire until it dies. “Still edible if you ask me,” you say as you eye the burned thing on the branch you’ve been using since you started roasting marshmallows.

“Oh, clearly,” he agrees. “If you want to get cancer, that is.”

You glare at him, and he only laughs. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“Boring,” he answers wisely, face falling serious, though he only manages to keep the serious look for a few seconds before he’s breaking into yet another fit of laughter. One you echo before taking a bite of the marshmallow. You hum in delight, and Jungkook says, “What the fuck was that?”

You have the decency to blush. “What?”

“You’re not really the kind of person that moans when they eat good food?”

“I wasn’t moaning,” you let out outrageously.

It gains everybody’s attention around the fire, and Jungkook laughs at you. You shove him in the shoulder again, but he annoyingly barely moves in his chair.

“Who’s moaning?” Lance asks.

Both you and Jungkook look startled for a time, and you glare at him. “No one, Jeon’s just being a little shit.”

“What’s new?” Jiho jokes, and everyone laughs.

The trio that went to the lake comes back – Taehyung, Jo and Hobi. Jo scans the people around the fire, brows knitting together.

“Where are Bridget and Heather?”

The whole group laughs. “They never came out,” Chaeyeon admits. “I’d advise to not go looking for them.”

Jo snorts. “Oof yeah, that’s a no for me.”

It’s not even that funny, yet everyone laughs as the trio settles around the fireplace. Hobi and Jiho share a chair, and you realize there’s no chair for Jo and Taehyung. You’re about to offer yours when they just sit directly in the grass, giggling like the two idiots in love that they are. They lie down after a few seconds, and Jo points up at the sky.

It makes you look up, and you suddenly feel very small, under the immensity of the night sky. It sobers you up, just a little, and you sit back in the chair to get a good look. You admire the stars and constellations, searching for those you know. It leads to everyone doing so, and it also creates a calmer atmosphere, until half the group is dozing off in their chair.

Someone changed the music to softer tunes, and you really listen to the night sounds now, as the melody entwines with the cracking of the logs. Soon enough, Jin and Valeria decide to go to bed. Jungkook immediately teases the older guy, saying that only elderly people go to bed so early. Jin just throws a marshmallow at Jungkook, who receives it right on the forehead. He looks stunned, and he raises his middle finger at Jin as he just laughs where he’s leading Valeria inside. Chaeyeon and Lance are the next to go, and your gaze trails them until they stop to kiss. You give them privacy then, focusing on the fire instead.

It leaves only you, Jungkook, Jo, Taehyung, Jiho and Hobi by the fire, and you sigh in content as Jungkook throws another log into the fire.

“Last one, I assume?” he lets out.

The group mumbles in agreement.

“We’ll party harder tomorrow,” Jiho promises before yawning.

It makes everyone yawn, and you laugh tired laughs as you watch the flames licking up the log.

“We should set up a beer pong table,” you suggest.

Taehyung seems to spark to life at the idea. “I’m so in for some beer pong.”

“What about a tournament?” Jungkook proposes. “Losers have to jump in the lake.”

Jiho winces. “I hope Hobi’s good because there’s no way in hell I’m jumping in the lake.”

“I got you, babe.”

You notice them exchanging a long look. It’s filled with love, grossly so, and you roll your eyes before settling your gaze on the stars above once more. You let out a happy yelp when a shooting star crosses the sky.

“Oh my God!”

Jo is just as happy as you are. “Oh shit!” she echoes. “We have to make a wish.”

You laugh, nodding your head repeatedly. The four others just look at you curiously, before Jo explains that there was a shooting star.

Everyone’s eyes are back on the night sky in no time, and you reckon you might fall asleep like this.

Stargazing, and wishing that you’ll find your own person soon enough.

Saturday, July 7th

                “I’ll kill you.”

Jungkook smiles, and the breeze of the afternoon catches in his hair, making a strand fall in his eyes. He pushes his hair back. “I’d like to see you try.”

Something changed. He knows something changed between the two of you. It’s exciting, in a childish kind of way. He feels young next to you, and he’s been following you around all day, claiming that he wants to avoid the couples. Which is not entirely a lie, but he mostly wants to be around you.

It’s a new feeling. Or almost entirely new, because he felt like that around you once before. The night after he told you about his accident. He’s pushed that away since then, but it seems being here, at this cottage in the middle of nature, brings it out.

He’s been failing at pushing it away since last night, and he reckons he doesn’t even want to try anymore.

You put your hands on your hips, tilting your head to the side. Your hair sways in the wind, and he wants to brush it behind your shoulder. He resists, because he’s pretty sure you’ll bite his head off if he does.

“You’re the one that suggested kayaking.”

He did. But throwing you in the water seems like twice the fun, so he’s been teasing you about it as you stand next to the shed.

“Maybe it was just a trap?” he says, winking at you. He takes a step towards you, and you immediately take a step back.           

Jo and Taehyung are sitting on the quay, watching the water and talking in hushed tones. Jungkook feels Jo’s gaze on him, and he resists glancing at her.

He knows what she thinks. She’s made it pretty clear in the last week. Maybe it’s contributed to the softness in him whenever he watches you.

Maybe.

“You’re annoying.”

“But yet you came with me?”

You squint your eyes, shaking your head. “Not with you. I came to kayak.”

“Right.”

“I swear.”

He bursts out laughing, and it’s his turn to shake his head. “Of course, of course.”

“Why are you…” you start before letting out a strangled sound. “I’m going back to the house.”

“No!” he immediately says, a little louder than necessary. This time, both Taehyung and Jo look at you two. “I’m just teasing, let me bring the kayak out.”

He’s blushing. He feels it coming up slowly from deep within his chest, so he quickly turns towards the shed and goes in. A few spiders are hiding in their webs, and he swats one away from the first kayak. He almost hesitates to leave it in just to spook you, but he doesn’t really want to spook you right now. Not when his heart is beating just a little quicker.

He doesn’t know if he likes it. But he’ll roll with it for the rest of the weekend, because he doesn’t think he’ll have the opportunity to do so after that.

He brings out the two kayaks before going back for the paddles, and a moment later he’s helping you to sit in yours, holding your hand while you step in it before sitting. Jo and Taehyung are watching now, barely even talking, and Jungkook can’t wait until you’ve moved away from the quay.

He hates the way the couple has been watching you both. It feels like he’s under pressure, and he knows he doesn’t do well under pressure. Except when it came to dance, but that’s long gone now.

He gets into his own kayak as you’re already starting to move away.

“Bye losers,” you say towards Taehyung and Jo.

“Try not to drown,” Jo replies as she waves you off.

You laugh, a crystal clear laugh that makes Jungkook very aware of how Taehyung is looking at him. He catches his older friend’s gaze, furrowing his brow.

Taehyung glances down at Jungkook’s attire – a pair of pants. He looks like he wants to say something, and Jungkook knows what.

He’s not going to wear shorts. Not when it’d put his scar on display to the whole crew. He hasn’t gotten the courage to tell everyone yet, and he doesn’t want to be forced to explain anything. He just wants to focus on being in the present, because he hasn’t done that in a while.

So he glares at Taehyung, clenching his jaw. Taehyung sighs before looking away. Just like that the moment passes, and Jungkook settles in his kayak before quickly following you.

“Is it a race or something?” he asks as he moves closer.

You look at him over your shoulder, a bright smile on your lips that turns mischievous as soon as your gaze finds his. “It is and you’re losing.”

Now, bringing out his competitive side is a bad idea, but that’s who you are, isn’t it?

Jungkook pushes the paddle in the water harder, accelerating his rhythm. It makes you screech, and you quickly do the same. Your lean arms are nothing against his though, and he’s caught up to you in no time. Unable to resist, he splashes water on you.

“Jungkook!” you scream. “I’m trying not to wet my hair!”

“Oh are you?” He does it again, this time purposefully aiming for your head. You dodge but to no avail.

“I’ll murder you,” you threaten, and you send water flying his way.

He barely gets any on himself, and he cocks an eyebrow arrogantly. “Is that the best you can do?”

It pisses you off. He sees it in the way resolve fills your face, and he’s not surprised he’s thoroughly drenched by the time you finally stop. He’s just accepted defeat and let you splash him as he laughs. You laugh too, and he reckons it’s his favourite thing about you.

The way you laugh when you’re being a brat. It’s endearing.

He’s endeared by you. That’s what the feeling is. He’s been trying to put words on it since last night. Last night it was struck. He was struck as you spoke to him with that soft edge to you. And then it turned to endearment.

He reckons he missed you, while he was hiding from all of the crew because of his accident. He really did. Something about you was missing from his life.

He pushes the thoughts away as you stop splashing him.

“Oops,” you say when he meets your gaze.

His hair is wet, and he puts the paddle down to push it back. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes follow his motion, and the furrow of your brows before you frustratingly look away.

“I’m debating making you fall in the water,” he teases, pursing his lips before playing with his piercing.

Your gaze widens. “You wouldn’t dare.”

He moves his paddle in the water to get closer to you, and you quickly move away.

“I would definitely dare,” he tells you. “I’m all wet because of you.”

His brows knit together as he realizes what he just said sounded suspicious. Of course you burst out laughing, before saying, “That’s what she said”.

He rolls his head to the back of his head. “Lame.”

“You’re lame,” you counter-back.

It’s like that for the rest of the time you spend on the water. Even though he threatened to throw you in the water many times today, Jungkook doesn’t really want to do it. He likes the peace between the two of you: he’s not going to do something to fuck it up.        

You eventually get bored of kayaking, and you switch places with Chaeyeon and Bridget when the two of you return to the quay. Jo and Taehyung have gone back to the house, but Lance, Heather, Jin and Valeria are there, and you sit with them for a while, just talking.

Mindlessly, Jungkook pulls his shirt up to dry his face from the last of the water you splashed on him before getting out of the water.

He realizes his mistake only when the shirt falls back in place, and Lance is watching him with round eyes.

“What’s that scar?”

Jungkook stills. Unmoving, barely even able to breathe. The air is suddenly less warm, and he can almost see the snow again. His heart constricts in his chest, and he just stares back at Lance as if he’s a doe caught in headlights.

“You don’t just ask people why they have scars, Lance,” you grumble.

It surprises Jungkook that you said something. But then again you’re not the type to back down from a fight.

Lance seems startled by the tone of your voice. He frowns as his gaze slides to you. “It was just a question?”

“It could make people uncomfortable?”

Jin is looking at Jungkook. He’s got a careful expression on his features, and he looks between you and Jungkook a couple of times. As if this moment matters, and truthfully it does matter to Jungkook, because you’re bickering with Lance and it entirely shifted the attention away from him.

Jungkook manages to shrug his shoulders at Jin, who offers him a no-bullshit look. Valeria punches him in the arm, and Jin lets out a startled sound that has everyone looking at him.

The moment passes, and it’s dinner time when Lance moves closer to Jungkook, clearly having waited until you aren’t around to actually approach him. Jungkook steels himself for the questioning, but Lance only says, “Whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, bro”.

It renders Jungkook speechless, and all he can do is nod his head at Lance. Lance claps him on the shoulder, and he immediately walks away, as if his job here is done.

And maybe it is, and all he wanted to do was prove that he’s Jungkook’s friend. It makes Jungkook appreciate him ten times more, and then he takes a moment to really look at everyone. The girls are all laughing about a story Jin is telling, and Taehyung is just shaking his head in disbelief where he’s grilling the meat for dinner. Lance moves towards Taehyung to offer help, and Jungkook just stays alone for a moment, enjoying the scene.

The sun is setting, the air is warm and the light breeze from today has fallen. But the air is not still, and it smells of the rich soil of the forest, and of the meat Taehyung is grilling. The sky is still void of any clouds, and it’s turned to a rich golden glow from the setting sun.

Jungkook is stricken, once again, by the fact that he is alive. He’s alive and breathing and even though his leg hurts, he’s standing. He’s standing and walking and yes he can’t dance anymore, but there’s so much more to life than dance, isn’t there?

His eyes slide to you as he thinks the thought. You’re looking at Jin with a little smirk, the one he knows you use when you’re judging someone. But you feel his eyes on you and your gaze meets his. The smirk falls into a small, secretive smile, and Jungkook breathes in sharply.

His heart is beating a little louder, and this time he does push it away. He does try not to think of it, but it’s hard when you look at him like that. With that soft edge he saw yesterday. It fills him with wonder, the same wonder he got from watching the night sky the day before.

You’re like a star in a bleary night. It’s hard to look away from you, and he only does so when Taehyung says the meat is ready. It’s like someone cut the string between you and him, and he almost stumbles forward as he glances to Taehyung.

He gulps, taking a deep, steadying breath before he moves to help Taehyung bring the food to the table. Lance helps too, and the three of them together make quick work of filling everyone’s plate, and Jungkook soon settles down in a chair next to you, right in front of Jo.

Dinner is fun. Cheery, with lots of laughter. Everyone is already a little tipsy from the day-drinking you’ve all done, and Jungkook feels like there’s more than alcohol in his blood this evening. There are feelings, joy and happiness to be here in this moment.

He should live in the moment more often.

“Hey JK,” Jo says, and he raises his eyes from his plate.

His fork is halfway to his mouth when he lets out, “Uh?”

“How is it going with Laura?”

Everything inside of him stills, like it did earlier today with Lance but for a completely different reason this time. He freezes, and he doesn’t miss the way your head immediately snaps towards him at Jo’s question.

Jo has an insufferable smile on her lips, and Jungkook just can’t move.

Laura. She’s a girl from his class that started texting him a few weeks ago. He’s seen her once, just because she said she had questions about her camera and it would be easier if Jungkook answered in person. Laura is a sweet girl. Pretty too, but Jungkook doesn’t know if their talking will lead anywhere. He doesn’t feel like he’s ready to jump headfirst into a relationship.      

Especially not as he feels your expectant gaze on his profile.

“Laura?” he repeats.

“Didn’t you go on a date with her?” Jo asks.

Jungkook frowns, shaking his head. “It wasn’t a date,” he points out. “She needed help with her new camera.”

About that. Jungkook brought a camera with him this weekend. He’s been taking pictures once in a while, mostly of nature. Because he’s always been more of a landscape photographer. Maybe because landscapes tend to change less than people. They feel unbreakable, immovable, and it’s reassuring in some way.

“That sounds like the lamest start of a porno,” Lance jokes.

Everyone laughs. Everyone but you and Jungkook. Jungkook only shrugs, before saying, “I didn’t sleep with her”.

You scoff next to him. It aggravates him, something you haven’t made him feel in a while now. His brows knit together as he turns his head toward you.

“You want us to believe you didn’t sleep with her?” you let out.

It’s bitter. And you seem to realize it quite at the same time as he does, because you flush red, and you look away from him to glance down at your half-empty plate on the table.

Jungkook’s features relax, and a smile even tugs at the corners of his lips. He knows what Jo is doing. Especially as he sees the knowing smirk on her lips.

She dared him to find a way to make you jealous earlier this week, when he invited her and Taehyung to the cottage. As if making you jealous is a good idea.

He now sees what she meant. Because you’re playing with your food, a look of confusion creased into your features. It’s cute, and it makes the same feeling arise in him.

Everyone starts talking again, but Jungkook feels the weight of Taehyung and Jin’s gazes on him. He avoids them like the plague, focusing on trying to keep his smile in. He doesn’t want to infuriate you by making a comment.

Especially not when you’ve been forced to team up for the beer pong tournament. Which, turns out you’re a lot better than he thought you would be. Than you said you were, because you make it to the final round, getting beaten by Bridget and Heather out of all people. The two girls celebrate to the sounds of everyone whooping and cheering, and Jungkook can’t keep his smile in.

Tonight promises to be quite the party. And it is. With lots of drinking, and Chaeyeon and Lance having to jump into the lake because they were last in the tournament. It’s funny, but it leads to them deciding to go to bed early, saying something about being cold from the lake.

Jungkook knows exactly what they have in mind when he sees them staring at each other the way that they are. Like they’re alone in the universe, and maybe to them they really are.

He’s surprised when the rest of the group starts to follow Chaeyeon and Lance. The night is younger than it was yesterday when it came to an end, but there’s something in the air. It brings the couples closer together, makes them exchange secretive glances and stolen touches. Jungkook finds Taehyung and Jo making out outside of the bathroom when he goes in to pee, and they never come out after that. Jin and Valeria move in not even five minutes later, right before Hobi and Jiho, and it leaves Bridget, Heather and you alone with him outside.

He’s not surprised when the two girls decide to go to sleep too, even though Jungkook has just started the hot tub at Bridget’s request. It leaves him alone with you and the red solo cup in his hand. It’s filled to the brim and, quite frankly, Jungkook doesn’t feel tired at all. He feels alive, awake and ready to conquer the world if need be.

You look exactly like that too.

“Wow,” you let out once everyone is gone.

Jungkook feels awkward for half a heartbeat. But then his eyes slide to the house, and he notices Jo in the window. She quickly dips out of his line of sight, which makes him understand exactly what happened.

You’ve been left alone outside on purpose, and Jo’s the one that schemed the whole thing.

“They’re boring,” Jungkook says, though he feels like laughing. He hopes you don’t notice.

“They didn’t even go into the hot tub,” you point out. “What a waste of energy.”

He glances at the tub, and an idea forms in the back of his mind. He doubts you’re going to say yes.

*****

                You don’t know why you said yes. Going into a hot tub alone with Jungkook sounds like a very bad idea, and the more you think about it the worse it seems to you. Yet you make your way outside after having put on your black two-piece swimsuit, wrapped in a white towel you fished from the bathroom.

The house was eerily quiet when you and Jungkook went in to change. It is still just as quiet as you get out of the bathroom, and aim for the kitchen to make yourself a glass before you go outside. You notice Jungkook is already out there, testing the temperature of the water. He’s wearing trunks, and he got rid of his t-shirt, discarding it on a chair next to the slowly dying fire. He turns towards the window as you’re pouring a glass, probably to see if you’re coming. It’s not your fault when your eyes dip down to his leg.

Even in the darkness you see the angry knot of skin that runs from below his knee and disappears in his swim trunks. It’s ugly, and your heart stops beating for a few seconds as you see it. Jungkook was right when he told you about his accident the first time – the scar on his leg is far scarier than the one on his stomach.

You wave back at him as he waves, a dumb smile on his lips. You focus on that smile, because you don’t want to be thinking of the scar. Don’t want to be thinking about the pain Jungkook must have endured. The pain he is still enduring to this day.

You’re hesitant when you step outside, though you make sure to bring a glass for him too. He’s still smiling when you arrive, and it only widens when you hand him the red solo cup.

“Thought you might want a refill.”

He tilts his head to the side, winking at you as he grabs the glass. “Always.”

You move towards the tub, ignoring the way you feel his gaze on you. It makes you self-conscious, and you don’t want to peel the towel from around yourself. You reckon you can’t get in the water with it though, so you carefully put your glass down on the side of the tub before taking the towel off, leaving it on the same chair where Jungkook’s shirt is.

“It might be a little hot,” Jungkook warns as you move back to the tub. “I adjusted the temperature a little while I was waiting for you.”

You dip your fingers in the water, shrugging your shoulders. “Seems good enough to me.”

He laughs, and his eyes follow you as you climb into the tub. The water is hot, extremely so, but you’re drunk and the jet of the tub looks far too inviting for you to wait.

“Alright then, guess I’ll get in too.”

You watch as he does so, and your eyes once again fall to his scar. It stretches weirdly as he bends his leg, as if it doesn’t really allow him full movements anymore. It explains why his dancing has turned mechanical now, and why he can’t move the way that he did before.           

He’s noticed your gaze on the scar while getting in. You know it, because his features have fallen serious by the time he sits in front of you.

“I know, it’s ugly,” he says, and his eyes get lost in the bubbles in the water.

You remain silent for a time, waiting for his gaze to meet yours. When it does, you finally say, “Nothing about you is ugly”.

It’s smooth, the way you say it. It makes his eyes widen and a laugh bursts from his lips. You don’t even know why you flirted with him – you just had an inkling it’d make him fall back into his usual cocky self.

And of course it does.

“You think I’m hot?”

You roll your eyes, before grabbing your red solo cup from where you left it. Jungkook grabs his own, and it takes a few seconds before you’re settled back into your seat. You take a small sip from the glass, letting the rum and coke swirl in your mouth for a second before you swallow.

“I’m not going to answer that question.”

He smirks. “Then I’ve got my answer.”

You squint your eyes, fake glaring at him, and it only makes him laugh.

“You’re insufferable.”

He shrugs his shoulders, and he takes a sip from his glass. He winces then, before raising his eyebrows. “How strong did you make this?”

“Strong enough to have you shut up?”

“Oh please.” He laughs once more. “You know that won’t make me shut up. As a matter of fact, it’s probably just going to make me talk more.”

You chuckle, shaking your head a little. “My mistake.”

Jungkook really is hot, sitting there. His hair is fluffy around his face – it really is a lot longer than it was before. It curls a little at the ends, making a crown around his head. He’s buff too, and it makes you wonder how he manages to work out at the gym even with his injury. And it’s hard not to let your gaze wander to the tattoos on his shoulders, the ink that goes from his hand up to the top of his arm.

He’s attractive, damn him. You hate it, so you say, “So, Laura uh?”

He holds your gaze, his tongue darting out to play with his piercing for a time. “What about her?”

You cock an eyebrow. “You tell me.”

He’s smirking now, and his eyes dip to where your chest disappears in the water before moving up to your features again. “Why do you want to know?”

You feel hot. Not because of the water, though you reckon it really is hot. No, his gaze is burning you, in a way that makes you feel naked. You don’t know if you like it. But two can play this game Jungkook seems to have chosen.

You shrug your shoulders, wetting your lips before smiling. “Just making conversation, Jeon.”

His gaze has moved to your lips. It stays there as he says, “Seems to me like you got a little jealous earlier”.

You refuse to admit that it was jealousy, when Jo mentioned Laura at dinner time. To you, it was just surprise, and you’ve been repeating it to yourself ever since it happened.

“Why would I be jealous?” you ask, brows knitting together as a smile plays on your lips. “You’re nothing to me.”

“Right.” He chuckles, and he drinks from his cup, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m nothing and yet you’re in this hot tub alone with me.”

He’s arrogantly cocky, isn't he? It used to piss you off, but tonight it just makes your blood boil.

“Wasn’t going to waste the opportunity for a hot tub session,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. “Unfortunate that it had to come with you though.”

He fakes offence. “You offend me.”

You snort, and his features relax into a small smile. There’s a moment of silence, where you find yourself too much of a coward to keep holding his gaze. It’s your turn to let your gaze wander down to the spot where his chest disappears in the water, and you drink from your cup.

“Do you want to play Truth or Dare?” he suggests after almost a minute without any of you speaking.

You chuckle. “Are we twelve?”

He shrugs. “Just thought it could be fun.” He pouts a little, and it really does make him look like he’s twelve. “Unless you’re too much of a coward for it.”

“Me, a coward?” you scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Truth or Dare, Jeon?”

The cocky smirk reappears. “Truth.”

You don’t know what to ask. At all. Your mind goes empty, until he lets out a laugh that gives you an idea. “What’s the deal with Laura?”

“You really want to know, uh?”

You shrug. “You chose truth, now answer the question.”

He laughs a little, and then plays with his piercing for a few seconds. You watch him do so, eyes falling to his lips.

“We hung out once”, he says.

It’s the same answer as earlier, but you feel like a brat right now. So, you press him by saying, “And that’s it? You’re not going to see her again?”

He ponders for a time, making you wait before he replies, “We’re supposed to go on a date sometime next week”.

You feel like maybe you shouldn’t have asked the question. Because his reply makes you clench your jaw, and you take a sip from your cup to hide it. “Jeon Jungkook on a date? Are you having a fever?”

“She’s nice, just thought I’d give it a try,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. He’s still smirking, and this time it’s knowing.

He knows that the thought of him going on a date with Laura is pissing you off. And you don’t even know why it makes you feel like that. You’re not sure you should be feeling like that when it comes to Jeon Jungkook. He’s barely even a friend.

“Hope it goes well for you,” you say, though it sounds tense.

He shrugs, winking at you. “I’ll let you know.” He pauses for a moment, before asking, “Truth or Dare?”

So the conversation about Laura is over then. And he’s a fool if he thinks you’ll say truth.

“Dare.”

He looks far too happy about your choice. “Chug your glass.”

You frown. “But then I won’t have anything to drink if I don’t want to do some of your dares.”

“Oh, we’re playing adult Truth or Dare? Had I known I wouldn’t have answered your question.” You glare at him, and he laughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Just drink, you can always drink from my glass later.”

Your glare intensifies, if that’s possible, but you still give in. You’re not one to back away from a challenge, and you chug your glass in a few long swigs. Your nose scrunches up as you finish, and you put the cup down.

“Happy?” you let out, and he nods with that same insufferable smirk on his lips. You want to wipe it away, but you don’t really know how. Instead, you only ask him, “Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.”

You hate dares. You never know what to suggest. You don’t feel like making him chug his glass, so you cock your head to the side as you survey him, mind reeling for an idea.

“Go get me another glass.”

He’s surprised. So are you, but you think it’s a brilliant idea.

“It’s so far,” he complains, with that same childish pout he used a moment ago. “Can I change for Truth?”

“You’re annoying”, you say, though you don’t really mind.

Something in the way he’s been looking at you makes you want him to stay anyway.

“You’re the one that wants me to go all the way inside.”

You chuckle, before shaking your head. “Alright then, let me find you a truth.” It takes you about half a minute before you come up with an idea. “How many girls have you slept with?”

He snorts. “Wow, straight to the body count I see.” He falls silent again, and his hand plays with the bubbles in the water in front of him.

“So?”

You think he’s blushing. It’s hard to tell in the dim light – indeed, the only light illuminating the scene is the one from next to the door, and the tub’s purple light.

“I’d say…” he trails off, scrunching his nose as he thinks. “Like twenty-five?”

It’s a lot, but not as much as you expected. Jungkook has a fuckboy vibe to him, and you were pretty sure he had at least fifty.

“Only?”

He furrows his brows. “Only?”

“I thought you had more,” you admit, chuckling as you shrug your shoulders.

He sips from his cup. “Sorry to disappoint.” His eyes glint with mischief, and he adds, “Truth or Dare?”

You hesitate, maybe because something in the way his eyes sparkle makes you think he’s got something in mind. You feel it – anticipation is building in you, and some parts of you can already see the outcome before it unfolds. Like a web of possibilities, and the longer he looks at you like that, the more it closes in to the anticipated one.

“Truth.”

He’s silent for a time. His face falls more serious, darker, and he’s so hot sitting there you really have to look away. “If everyone was single here, who would you fuck?”

You refuse to admit his question makes a drop of pure magma roll down your spine, before it moves forward and settles in your core.

“Jiho.” It’s a lie. You both know it, but he lets it slide – for now. “Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.”

You hit him with the same question he’s just asked you. His reply is far more cryptic.

“You already know the answer.”

You breathe in shakily, and something tightens inside of you. “Do I?”

His mouth is a little parted, and his tongue darts out to wet his lips before he takes a sip from the cup. He seems to reconsider it, because he chugs the whole thing before putting it down on the side of the tub.

“Do you?”

It confirms the answer. And you don’t know what to make of it. It scares you, somehow, but makes the fire in your burn brighter.

“Truth or dare?” he asks then, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Dare.”

You don’t even hesitate. You’re afraid he’s going to ask you stuff you don’t know the answer to if you choose truth.

“Why don’t you come sit closer, mmh?”

Still no hesitation from you. You’re like the moth and he the flame – you know it’s a bad idea, but you haven’t looked away from his eyes in too long. You’re in a trance, and you think so is he.

You settle next to him. Far enough not to touch, but close enough for every inch between you to fill with electricity. Not that it wasn’t already before – you are just way more conscious of it now.

“Truth or dare?” you ask, and it’s a little breathless, the way you speak.

“Dare,” he says. His eyes are on your lips now, and all you can do for a time is to observe his features. He’s got a mole under his mouth, and a scar on one of his cheeks. It looks old, and it’s so faded you can barely see it.

You have no dare in mind. You feel like you don’t even have any thoughts. You’re stuck looking at his lips, where your gaze settles as you watch his features. “Uh?” you let out.

He chuckles. It’s deep, manly, and it makes you look up to his eyes. “No idea what to ask?”

“You already chugged your glass.”

“There’s nothing else you want me to do?”

There’s a whole lot you want him to do, but a whole lot you don’t want him to do. It’s confusing, and your heart is beating too loud for you to think straight.

“Is there something you want to do?” you ask.

He’s bold. His hand moves up, his fingers lightly touching the side of your neck. “I could kiss your neck.” They trail down until they find a home on your shoulders. “Or I could massage your shoulders, you seem a little tense.”

You are. You are because there is a war of conflicting emotions in you, and you don’t know which side will win. “Massage my shoulders then.”

He laughs, before making you turn. It’s easier to breathe once he’s not in your line of sight anymore, though the moment his hands start working on your shoulders, you tense up again. “Relax,” he murmurs, adding your name at the end.

“You’re making me anxious,” you admit breathlessly.

He stays silent as he works on your shoulders, for so long you think he won’t talk. But then he says, “Why?”

“I don’t know.”

His hands are big, and his fingers are skilled. In a matter of a few minutes he’s undid every knot in your shoulders, and you find yourself able to breathe. You still don’t want to risk looking at him though.

“Truth or dare?” he asks.

Maybe you can be bold too. Maybe you can just focus on every spot where his fingers are digging in your skin. Maybe it doesn’t have to mean anything.

“Dare.”

“Give me a hickey.”

You snort, mostly because it takes you by surprise. “What?”

His hands fall from your shoulders. “You heard me well.”              

“Aren’t hickeys bad for you?” you say, though you’ve never really cared about that. You care about it even less when you hear him move in the water.

“I think everything about you is bad for my sanity right now.” He whispers the words directly into your ear, and goosebumps form on your arms.

“Please don’t think this is going to lead anywhere,” you whisper back, right as you tilt your head to the side. You feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, but he straightens before he’s really done anything.

“Then why are you afraid of giving me a hickey?”

It is a challenge, and you don’t back down from challenges. So you turn around, say fuck it, and lean towards his neck until your mouth finds the spot where it connects with his shoulder. You suck, hard, and he hisses as one of his hands moves to your back, as if he wants to pull you closer.

You run your tongue on the spot you’ve sucked, before straightening. He’s got a deep purple mark there now, and you smirk in satisfaction. “Happy now?”

His chest is moving up and down quickly as he breathes. He’s out of breath, and the insufferable smirk is gone now. He seems a little angry, with a crease between his brows. “Yeah.”

You’re about to succumb to insanity. It’s taking a hold of you, choking you up until you say, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he answers.

He seems just as conflicted as you. But the web of possibilities from earlier dwindled down until there’s only one left, and both of you know it.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Your heart beats once, and then it stops in your chest. Because you meet him halfway, crashing your mouth on his so hard you think you taste blood. You don’t care: insane people do not care about anything. All you want is to feel his lips against yours, and damn him he’s a good kisser.

It’s intense, languid, and his hands don’t take their time before he’s pulling you on his lap. You straddle him, your own hands finding purchase on his shoulders, before moving up until you’ve cupped his face. And you hold him in place as you kiss, never once breaking away for air.

You don’t need oxygen when you’re kissing Jeon Jungkook. All you need are his lips, and he gives you plenty of that. And when his tongue finds yours, you moan in his mouth.

He swallows it like a man starved.

His hands are on your back. Respectfully so, even as he’s devouring your mouth. It frustrates you, because you want more. You want to feel all of him. It makes you grab a handful of his hair, and you pull his head back.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

“I’m not going to fuck you in a hot tub.”

It’s the only intelligent thing you could think of.

“We can –“

Your lips are back on his before he finishes his sentence, and you suck on his bottom lip, tongue darting out to play with his piercing. This time, he grunts in your mouth, and his hands lose their fight against his will not to touch you more. They move down until he’s cupped your ass, and he makes you grind on him.

You moan, and he breaks away from the kiss, just so he can bend down and leave a trail of hot, wet kisses on the column of your throat. You just let your hands loose in his hair and on his shoulders, nails digging in his skin when he decides to suck a hickey on you too.

You grind again then, and you feel the bulge of him press against you.

“We can’t fuck in the tub,” you say, and your voice is unrecognizable even to yourself. It’s lustful, sinfully so, and you’d be embarrassed if he didn’t meet your gaze with his half-lidded eyes.

“We can go in the shower.”

You’ve never been a fan of shower sex, so you say, “As much as that would probably be a good idea, I won’t fuck you in a shower either.”

He’s confused. You can tell by the way he tilts his head to the side. “Where do you want me to fuck you then? In the middle of the living room?”

It makes you chuckle, and an unexpected smile appears on his lips.

“I don’t think we should fuck.”

His grip on your ass tightens as his features turn dark, and he makes you grind on him again. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, embarrassingly so, as you let out a breathy moan. “Right,” he says.

“Fuck,” you curse.

He leans forward again, and this time his lips find a spot right over the top of your bikini. He sucks on your skin, and you moan as you grind again.

It’s uncomfortable. Not his lips on you, no, but the water of the tub mixed with the fabric of your swimwear. If you didn’t know how unsanitary it is, you would let him fuck you right then and there. But you don’t want to get an infection.

“Let’s go inside.” This time, one of his hands moves from your ass, trailing up your side until he’s grabbed one of your boobs. “Please.”

“Anything for you,” he mumbles against your breast, before straightening.

You kiss him again, just for good measure, and then you push away from him, reluctantly so. You feel his heavy gaze on you as you get out of the tub, and you’ve wrapped yourself in your towel by the time he’s followed you.

You forgot how tall he is. Because as he steps closer to you, towering above you, your mind goes blank again and you just let him crash his lips against yours. He’s holding your face, and his thumbs brush your skin gently before he pulls away. He stays close enough for you to feel his warm breath on you, but far enough so that you can’t reach his lips anymore.

“I need to take a shower,” you murmur.

He nods, and you feel it more than you see it. “Me too.”

“Yeah.”

He chuckles lightly, and he straightens to look up at the sky. His hands are still delicately holding your cheeks, and you watch his sharp jawline for a few seconds before he speaks.

“The stars are beautiful.”

You’re not looking at the night sky when you reply, “Yeah”.

He lets you go, then, but his hand falls until he’s grabbed one of yours. His large hand wraps around yours, and you let him do it, heart settling to a calmer beat in your chest.

“Do you want to dance?” he asks.

You stiffen. It feels strange to have him ask that. You almost forgot that he is a dancer too, in his soul, even though his physical body doesn’t permit him to let loose anymore.

“You want to dance?”

He has a soft smile on his lips when he meets your gaze. It’s miles away from the intensity it held just a moment ago, and you can’t help but offer him a smile of your own.

“Yes.”

You don’t want to refuse. Not when it feels like this moment matters. As if you’re about to create a core memory, and maybe you are.

Maybe you are.

The night sky is filled with stars. Distant burning constellations, and they wink at the two of you as Jungkook leads you through a slow dance. His steps are sure tonight, albeit a little mechanical, and his hand on the small of your back feels like a weight anchoring you into the present.

Up above, the stars just shine on and on, endlessly, for eternity. And you feel like eternity. You feel small and big, unimportant yet cataclysmic. He is cataclysmic. He is the start and the end, like the story is weaved into the tapestry of the universe itself.

And maybe it is.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after you’ve moved in time with him for a little eternity – your little eternity.

His voice is heavy. It holds the weight of the universe, and you reach up to cup his cheek, to anchor him in this moment with you.

“I’m happy to be here with you.”

His eyes are shining. Like the stars above, and the ones you’re starting to see behind his pupils. He hasn’t looked away from you since you started dancing, and you from him. You don’t think you can.

“I forgot how it felt to dance,” he admits.

Though he has danced since the accident. You’ve seen him dance, but maybe his heart wasn’t into it. Maybe his heart is in the moment now, maybe it’s beating in sync with all of your steps.

“How does it feel?” you ask, smiling up at him.

“Liberating. Like I’m just one of the stars in the sky up above.”

You don’t know what that feels like. It makes you realize you’ve never truly felt free. Jeon Jungkook looks at peace now, and you can just hope you’ll get to feel like that one day too.

A cool breeze rises around you, and you shiver as it moves on your skin. Jungkook notices, and he dips his head to kiss you again. Softly, gently, and when he pulls away he says, “Let’s go inside, you’re cold”.

You nod your head, even though you never want the moment to end. But nothing lasts in life – not even the stars above. One day they’ll die too, until all that’s left of them is an empty husk of life.

To you, that’s what love has always been like. It hits and leaves nothing of it behind. Maybe that’s why you step away from Jungkook.

“Yes.”

*****

                The shower you take is short. Scalding hot, until your skin has turned bright red. Only then are you satisfied, and you step out to dry yourself with a towel. You’re gentle with the towel, and you can still feel Jungkook’s hands on you. Can still feel the weight of his eyes on you.

If you could, you’d leave the cottage now. You’d run while you still can, but you can’t.

You can’t, so you step out of the bathroom and make your way to the living room where you both slept the night before. Where he snored softly until the noises he made were entwined with your dreams.

He’s already sitting on his couch when you arrive. His hair is wet from the shower he took in the downstairs bathroom, right next to the room where Chaeyeon and Lance are sleeping. He’s wearing black joggers and an oversized dark grey t-shirt, and he looks inherently comfortable. As if he’s comfort personified. He pushes his hair back as you come into view, offering you another one of his soft smiles.

You didn’t know Jungkook has softness in him. You feel it now: it’s in the way he looks at you, in the curve of his lips and the openness of his gaze.

“I have an idea,” he says, a little cryptically, and his smile turns mischievous. Childish, playful, and you chuckle.

“What is it?”

“I noticed your couch is tiny,” he says, motioning to said couch. “I thought…” He flushes red, before chuckling.

A blushing Jungkook is not a thing you imagined you would ever see someday.

“You thought?” you press on.

“I thought we could put all the cushions on the ground to make like a bed?”

It feels like you shouldn’t. Like you’re not supposed to be sleeping in the same bed as Jeon Jungkook. Especially not after what just happened outside – both the tub and the dance.

“Sure,” you agree nonetheless. “As long as you don’t steal all the blankets.”

He grins. “I would never.”

It’s cute, and it makes you gaze away.

Jungkook makes quick work of creating a bed for the two of you. You help him to move a coffee table away, and soon enough all the couch cushions form a mattress on the ground. You place the pillows you used last night on one end of it, and you’re sitting down just to test the makeshift bed when Jungkook throws the blankets on top of you.

“Jungkook!” you yelp, though you try to keep it to a minimum level so you won’t wake anyone.

He just laughs, and a few seconds later the room falls into darkness. While you’re disentangling yourself from the blankets, you hear a thump, and Jungkook lets out a series of curses that makes you burst out laughing, probably way too loud.

You don’t care.

“Fuck,” he finishes, and you can barely distinguish his silhouette when you’re free of the blankets.

“What happened?”

“I stubbed my toe,” he hisses through his teeth. “Fuck.”

You just laugh again, before moving until you’re on the side you chose for sleeping. “Just come here.”

“I was trying to,” he grumbles, and it sounds like he is pouting.

You’re starting to know him well enough that you know he is pouting.

Once you’re settled on your side of the bed, lying on your back staring up at the ceiling, Jungkook finally moves towards you. He lies on his side of the cushions, pulling a blanket over him. You both have your own blankets, so sleeping right next to each other doesn’t feel too indecent.

It takes your brain only three seconds before it produces an image of the hot tub, and you’re pretty sure the same thing just happened to Jungkook, because he chuckles lowly.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

You frown in the darkness. “Doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“Mmh.”

 You turn until you’re facing him. His silhouette is dark against the lighter background behind him, but you can barely make out his form next to you. You see it when he moves though, as he turns to face you too.

“What are you humming about?”

He chuckles. “Do you like cuddling?”

“You’re not going to get me to cuddle you,” you immediately reply, and you sound just as flustered as you feel.

“You grind on me in the hot tub and then you don’t even want to cuddle me? Outrageous.”

You scoff, and if you weren’t in the dark he’d see your cheeks turning scarlet. “We both know where cuddling would lead.”

His voice is husky when he speaks. “You think you can’t resist me?”

It makes the ‘never back down from a challenge’ part of you tickle until you find yourself replying, “I’ll be the big spoon”.

He snorts, but he turns until he’s facing away from you. You hesitate for a time, but you eventually move closer to him, until you’ve wrapped an arm around his stomach. You rest your forehead against his back, and you hope he can’t hear the loud beats of your heart.

His body is warm. Comfortably so, and you know you could drift to sleep easily just lying next to him like this.

Why then are you unable to fully close your eyes? Why then do you decide to move closer, until his ass is pressed against you? It makes you gulp, and some wild and foolish part of you wishes you could be under his skin.

You don’t think you could ever be close enough to him to satiate the hunger that’s forming in your core.

Jungkook moves his arm, and a second later he’s wrapping his hand around yours. You let him do it, and you’re surprised when he brings your hand up to press a light kiss on your knuckles.

You wish you were still drunk. Because then you could blame your next words on the alcohol.

“Actually, can you be the big spoon?”

He sounds like he’s smirking when he says, “Yeah, of course”.

A few seconds later the positions are reversed, and Jungkook molds his body to yours, wrapping his tattooed arm around your frame, putting his other one under your head. It fits too well, like it was meant to be, and maybe this moment really was always meant to be.

Maybe you were bound to hate him until you found yourself cuddled up to him in the dead of night at a cottage on the countryside.

“Your hair smells good,” Jungkook says, and he shifts impossibly closer. You feel his lips on your head as he inhales, and the arm around your waist tightens as he pulls you flush against him.

“Thank you,” you answer, breathlessly. Because you are breathless in his arms, you are breathless feeling all of his firm body against all of yours.

Breathless enough so that you shift, and your ass moves against him.

“Uh,” Jungkook lets out. He laughs a little, and his tattooed hand moves up until he’s brushing his thumb on the side of your jaw. “You shouldn’t do that.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you want me to do?”

He thinks for a time. “What I want you to do and what you want seem to be two completely different things.”

It’s a little somber, the way he says it, and you bite your lip. Because he’s right, sort of. You’re not sure you want to have sex with him. But what started in the hot tub is bound to finish someday, is it not?

“You’re confusing me,” you admit. “You’ve been confusing me all weekend.”

His hand leaves your jaw, and he moves your hair out of the way as he leans. His lips press a tentative kiss on your neck, and your ass immediately shifts against him again.

“So have you,” he declares. “You’ve been confusing me for weeks.”

His revelation only makes you want him even more. And you’ve rarely wanted someone the way your body has been craving for Jungkook. Because that’s what it is: your body has been craving for him since the hot tub. And you’re about to succumb to your desires, aren’t you?

“Jungkook…”

He sucks on your skin, but not hard enough to leave a hickey. It still makes heat pool at your core, and you push your ass back against his dick once more.

“Fuck,” he curses. “We should go to sleep.”

Though this time he grinds against you, and you can feel the start of his erection on your ass.

“Right,” you agree.

And you move against him, earning a grunt from him. He murmurs your name, before saying, “I don’t have any condoms”.

All your nerves set on fire. “I don’t care.”

“We shouldn’t…” His sentence is cut short as you grind again, and he sinks his teeth in the soft skin of your neck. It hurts a little, and you know he’s going to leave another hickey on you as soon as he starts sucking.

Your hand shoots behind you, and you grab the back of his head, fingers getting lost in the strands of his hair. His own hand moves down until it settles on your hip, and he guides your movement against him.

He moves away from your neck, pressing a kiss on your shoulder this time. “We shouldn’t have sex,” he says, completing his previous sentence.

“I know.”

“We’re going to have sex,” he adds.

“I know.”

You circle your hips, and his erection is turning hard by the second. You’re soaking your panties, and you just want more of him. You want to get rid of all the fabric between you two and feel his skin directly against yours.

“Oh, Y/n…” he breathes, and then he’s back to kissing your neck.

No sucking this time, just his tongue drawing circles on your skin as you continue moving your ass against his dick.

“You’re already hard.”

“The hot tub got me real horny.”

It had the same effect on you, and you shiver as he bites at your ear. Gently, not to hurt, especially not as he presses a kiss under your ear next.

“Fuck,” you say.

His breathing is warm against the side of your face, and you decide to dive in. To say fuck it with what you should do and what you want to do. You only have one life to live anyway.

The moment your lips touch feels like a dam broke inside of you. Your tongue meets him halfway between your mouths, and he swallows the moan you let out as his fingers move under your shirt. You’re not wearing a bra, and the moan turns to a hiss as he pinches one of your nipples, rolling the sensitive bud between his thumb and index.

He pulls away from the kiss to say, “Can I take off your shorts?”

Because you’re wearing baby blue PJ shorts. Nothing really attractive, but it has no hindering effect on Jungkook’s desire for you, has it?

“Yes,” you answer and he’s back to kissing you in no time.

His fingers do quick work of the knot holding your shorts in place, and he immediately slides his hand in. He slides it under your panties too, and he starts rubbing circles on your clit right away.

You’re going to go insane. He’s worth going insane for.

You grind on his hand, and he moves lower so he can dip his middle finger and ring finger inside of you, up to the first knuckle, before pulling out and rubbing circles on your clit again. Your slick juice renders you oversensitive, and you buck your hips as he starts a hellish rhythm down there, with just the right pressure.              

It’s like he knows his way around your body already.

You try to reach between you, but the way his arm is positioned keeps you from being able to palm him. You whine and it makes him stop his ministrations on your clit.

“Is something wrong?”

“Take off your pants,” you tell him.

“Please?” he taunts you, as if he wants to let you know who’s in control here.

“Please,” you hiss through your teeth, because somehow it infuriates you.

“Good girl,” he praises with his low husky voice.

You’ve never been called a good girl before, and something in the way he says it makes you grind hard against him.

“You like that, uh?” he asks.

“Just take off the fucking pants, Jeon.”

He chuckles but obeys nonetheless. You take off your shorts at the same time, and think about it for half a second before you’re taking your panties off too.

Once you’re both naked from the waist down, you return to the previous cuddling position. Only this time his dick is resting against your ass, and from what you can tell, it really is big.

“Should I finger you to make sure you can take me?” he asks, but it’s rhetorical.

Indeed, he doesn’t wait for you to answer before he plunges two fingers inside of you, arching them to hit a spot inside of you that makes you see stars, shy constellations that add light to the darkness of the cottage. You find purchase on his forearm as he starts thrusting his fingers in and out of you, and he reaches deep inside of you. His palm hits your clit every time he pushes all the way in, and you’re starting to see a whole damn galaxy of stars in no time.

But you want to feel him, want to jerk him off while he’s making you feel good too. So you reach behind you, and this time you’re successful. You’re able to wrap your hand around his cock, and you moan at the feeling of the large girth.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You moan, nodding your head. “It’s all for you.”

“Oh, I fucking know it is,” he says.

It’s cocky, but you’re too far gone to give him shit for it.

You start jerking him off, slowly because you can’t really move quicker in this position. He stills bucks his hips, fucking your hand, and he starts moving his fingers even faster, hitting your clit even harder.

“Fuck, please play with my clit,” you beg.

“Can’t say no when you ask so nicely,” he says, and he’s back to rubbing circles on your clit.

You clench around nothing as you jerk him off, before you decide to position his dick between your legs. You grind against him, or maybe he makes you grind. You don’t really know. All you can feel is the way his length moves against you. But he never aligns with your entrance, as if he just wants to tease you, and knowing him you’re pretty sure he does.

It stays like this for a while, with him just coating his dick with your slick juice as he keeps rubbing insistent circles on your clit. Your walls clench around nothing, and you whine as he just moves his hips back and forth.

“Fuck me, Jungkook,” you say.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

You just whine again.

“I want to hear you say it.”

He’s infinitely infuriating, isn’t he?

“Yes, I fucking want your dick inside of me.”

This time, when he pulls his hips away from you, he makes sure to align with your entrance before pushing forward. And he pushes forward hard, sheathing all of his dick inside of you. Or all of what fits inside of you, because you’re pretty sure he’s way too big to be able to entirely fit.

The moment he hits the back of your pussy you let out a moan. It’s loud, and you immediately put a hand on your mouth to muffle the next noises you’ll make. You think better of it after a few seconds, and you grab the blanket, rolling it in a messy bundle just so you can press it against your face.

“You feel so fucking tight,” he says, and then he grunts when your walls clench around him. “Just relax, baby.”

“I’m just so close,” you admit.

You don’t know when he stopped rubbing circles on your clit. Only know that he starts again now, and you feel the familiar knot of an orgasm starting to form deep in your core.

“Such a fucking good girl”, he praises. “You’re going to come all over my dick.”

You immediately hide your face in the blanket as you moan, unashamedly loud. And then he starts fucking into you, slow and hard, and you lose it. You lose it as the knot uncoils, snaps inside of you, turning every inch of your body into an oversensitive land of pleasure.

Jungkook fucks you through your high, steadily, never once faltering even as your walls pulse hard against him. His fingers keep on rubbing circles on your clit, and he kisses a spot on your neck that makes goosebumps erupt on all of you. It feels so good you could cry, but your high still just keeps on going. Even though you’re in the dark, your vision is white, blindly so.

You don’t know when your hand found its way to the side of his face, only that once you finally come down you have a handful of his hair in your grip.

“That didn’t take long,” Jungkook teases, whispering the words directly into your ear.

He’s not wrong. You don’t think you’ve ever come as hard and quick as you just did.

“Holy fuck,” you mutter.

He has stilled inside of you, and his lips are littering small kisses on your neck. So you feel his smirk against you, and it makes you move. Circling your hips, trying to give him something in return for the orgasm he’s gifted you.

“You’re going to let me come inside of you, mmh?” he asks as you keep on going, a little sloppily from the remnants of your orgasm.

“You think you can come for me?” You’re embarrassingly breathless, still panting because of your high. You take a deep breath as you prop yourself up on an elbow, just so it’s easier to fuck yourself on him.

Jungkooks hums. “I need a little more than that, baby.”

You bite your lips as his tattooed hand finds your breast under your shirt again. “What do you want me to do?”

“Ride me?” he suggests, right as he plants a soft peck on your shoulder.

You moan as he fucks into you hard, unexpectedly. “Anyone could see.”

He whines, but then his hand moves to your hip before he starts pounding into you again. You hide your face in the blanket again, trying to muffle your sounds. Jungkook is not faring a lot better than you, and his grunts send shivers all over you. He doesn’t talk again until he’s slowed down.

“They can already see us.”

He’s not wrong, and you hate it. But you doubt someone will get up at this hour of the night, closer to the morning than to yesterday. He pushes in once more, hard and rough.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he entirely stops moving.

He even pulls out, and you turn to look at him. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark a little now, and you can see his features enough to see him wincing in pain.

“Is something wrong?” you immediately ask.

“My leg hurts.”

His three words fall softly in the night, the way a feather falls. It shifts the atmosphere, making your heart ache in your chest.

“Oh, Jungkook…”

“Ride me,” he says, and it sounds begging.

As if he needs it to forget the pain. You don’t think you have it in you to refuse, so you straddle him. Before you sink on his dick, you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, hoping to chase the pain away. Your hands hold you up on his shoulders, and his move to your hips, before sliding down until he’s holding your ass in his large palms. He massages the muscles of your ass as you kiss, tongues meeting in a deep and languid dance.

When you’re out of breath, lungs burning for oxygen, you straighten and sit on his dick. You circle your hips, teasing him a little and also making sure that he’s still hard. He is, his dick a rod of steel, and you bite at your lower lip as you grab him with one hand to align him with your entrance. He’s looking through half-lidded eyes as you do so, and his eyes shut as you sink all the way down on him, until his dick reaches your cervix.

His mouth falls open and he moans softly. It’s a pretty sound, meant for your ears only, and it makes you feel powerful. You feel powerful as you move up and down, slowly, feeling every vein of his dick on your walls. You clench as you sink back down, and his hands on your ass tighten their hold for a few seconds before he moves to your hips to guide you.

He makes you go faster, and as if he can’t resist he’s soon fucking up into you.

You put a hand on his cheek, brushing his cheekbone with a thumb. His eyes flutter open and he stills, seeing the look on your face.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I can do the work, don’t hurt your leg,” you tell him. You grab his hands from your hips to move them to your breasts under your shirt. And then you start moving, for real this time, quick and hard. You add a little bit of circling of your hips, just to make sure he stretches you wide.

And he does. Jungkook is huge, and you don’t wonder why he’s so cocky anymore. He’s got the kind of dick to be cocky about.

“Alright then,” Jungkook lets out between two soft moans.

You smirk, but it dies when one of his hands moves from your breast to your neck through the collar of your shirt. You grab his forearm, and your eyes flutter shut as he digs his fingers in your arteries, cutting the blood supply to your brain. It feels good, far more than it should, as all you can feel is his dick in you.

You let out a breathy sound, walls clenching on him again.

“That’s it, baby, you’re so good,” he praises, and he sounds different than he did before.

He’s more out of breath, as if he’s exhausted. And maybe he is, as he’s nearing his orgasm. It only encourages you more, and your nails dig in his forearm, hard enough to mark him.

“Fuck,” he curses, and he releases his hold on your neck. His hand doesn’t move, but it’s now just resting on your throat, and he’s not squeezing anymore.

“Fill me up, JK,” you say. “I want to feel you come inside of me.”

“Let me fuck you a little,” he replies. And he pulls you down by the neck, until he’s satisfied with the angle.

You want to say something about his leg but he’s already pounding into you, so hard your face falls in the crook of his neck as your hands get lost in his hair. Your lips meet his skin, and you suck hard, fully intending to leave a mark there. At this point you’re pretty convinced someone’s ought to know you’re fucking anyway, so why not show that he’s yours?

The thought sobers you up. But Jungkook is already coming, so you hold on strong sucking another spot on his neck as he groans and releases ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you. And he comes a lot, painting your insides white. You like it far more than you should.

Another thought to sober you up.

It takes Jungkook a little longer before he finally stops moving, and he lets out a content sigh as he wraps his arms around your waist to hold you close.

“We should have done this before,” he murmurs.

You try to sit up, but he keeps you from moving. “We shouldn’t have done this.” Even as you’re saying that you press another kiss to his neck. A soft one, just because he tastes too good, and you know the moment is about to come to an end.

“Uh?” he lets out.

His dick is still deep inside of you when you say, “We shouldn’t have fucked”.

He pushes you away now. Not hard, but it’s like your touch burns him and he needs to be away from you.

“Why?”

You sit next to him, and your cheeks burn as you feel his seed spill out of you, only to stain the blanket you previously used to muffle your moans.

“We’re barely even friends,” you point out.

He’s not watching you. His eyes are fixed on an empty spot on the cushionless couch next to which you’re laying. “Okay?”

“It’s just weird, no?”

You reckon you don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t know why you decided to say it right now either. It’s as if the words just need to get out.

“It’s just sex,” he says, and it sounds a little angry. “People have sex all the time.”

“But not us. You know, I don’t like you like that.”

A big fat lie if you’ve ever said one. You did like having sex with him. You’re just panicking, your fight or flight instinct having been suddenly triggered.

“Chill, Y/n,” he mutters, and he sighs heavily. “We just fucked. We can pretend nothing happened, if that’s what you want.”

You don’t know what you want. Some part of you wants to take the evening back, but at the same time not. You’re confusing to yourself, and your teeth dig in the tip of your tongue for a moment as you think.

“What would you want to say this is?” you ask after a little too long for the silence to be comfortable.

He finally looks at you. “Nothing, honestly. We just got horny and we’re the only single people here, it was bound to happen.”

Now, his words hurt a little, but you can see the truth behind them. “Right,” you say. “So, just friends?”

He holds your gaze. It’s too dark for you to be able to interpret anything on his features. “Sure.”

You feel bad. Remorseful. And you think about the hot tub, and the fucking too, but also about the dance outside. You reckon your fight or flight was triggered then, you’ve just been ignoring it ever since you came in.

Ever since you got out of the bathroom to see Jungkook and his softness. The softness is gone now, and he looks away from you before sitting up too. He searches around for his pants, and puts them on as you scan the scene for your own clothes.

“Can you…” you start, but he’s already throwing your shorts and panties at you.

He’s pissed. It’s evident now, clear as spring water, and you feel even worse. You didn’t want to upset him. There’s just too much history between you, too much individual history on your part too.

You’ve never been in a relationship. You’ve never been able to even imagine being in a relationship. And it usually leads to scenes like this: the men you sleep with getting upset with you. You don’t blame them, can’t blame them.

But it feels different with Jungkook. Worse, as if you don’t want the outcome to be him being upset with you. You just don’t know anything else, and so you put your clothes on. Even as he gets up to go clean up in the bathroom, muttering that he’ll be right back.

Even as he comes back and settles on the makeshift bed again, his back turned to you. The message is clear then: he doesn’t want to talk to you. You reckon you can always talk to him tomorrow. Can always let the night pass, and with it the fight or flight. It’s not like he’s going to be gone tomorrow, and you won’t be either.

You get up, sighing heavily as you go to the bathroom to clean up too.

 Jungkook is dead silent when you come back. If he was asleep, you know he would be snoring softly, as last night showed you. But no, he’s dead silent, as if he’s just ruminating in his corner.

It makes you feel too bad to remain silent.

“Jungkook,” you let out softly, his name barely over a whisper.

“Mmh?” he hums.

“I’m sorry if I upset you.”

He sighs, long and deep, before turning on his back. “Don’t worry about it.”

He’s stupid if he thinks telling you so will make it so you don’t worry. You’re always worrying anyway.

“Okay,” you still say. “It was great though, don’t take me wrong.”

He chuckles, and it’s bitter. “Listen, if you want us to pretend like it never happened, let���s start right now.”

He’s closed off. He was open earlier, a book for you to read. Maybe you’ve ripped the pages away, or maybe you’ve thrown the book off a cliff.

But it’s safer this way. It’s safer to keep Jungkook at an arm’s length. It’s where you keep everyone besides Jiho anyway.

“Okay, sorry,” you apologize. “Good night?”

He sighs once more. “Yeah, good night.” And then he turns away, and it hits you.

You won’t ever be the one to see Jungkook’s softness again.

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.............................. please don't hate me <3 how was this chapter? How was the smut? I hope it hit good haha! Let me know what you thought!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts 2023. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[dancingtotuyo]

Scathed 8 (Javier Peña)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: anxiety, trauma, self worth, smoking, idiot(s) in love?, curly hair care (all you curly girls with straigh hair mothers know the painnnnnnn,)

Notes: shoutout @janaispunk for beta reading and letting me yell and for being sad for these characters

Words: 3809

Series Master List | Author Master List

Journal Entry July 16, 1994

This summer has been good, surprisingly so. I went to the fair this year. Usually, the kids just go with Dad and Anna. We’ve done movies, and events downtown, and busy Saturday mornings at the hardware store. It doesn’t mean I haven’t puked afterward, but having Javier around has been nice.

Oh, and I registered for classes at the community college. I start at the end of August.

Emily sat on her bed, flipping through the photographs taken over the summer. Most of them were ones she’d taken, but every once in a while, one of the kids got a hold of it. They held evidence of the summer she’d been able to give her kids, and Javier was in almost all of them.

As she flipped through the final few of the stack, the last photo stood out. Her birthday, the one Ale had blinded her with. It turned out nicely. Her smiling at Javier, him smiling at her over the flaming candles, caught before they could react to the flash. She couldn’t pull her eyes away from it. A singular, perfect, magical moment caught on film.

She dropped the rest of them in the shoe box for safekeeping until she was ready to put the photo book together. The birthday one she slipped between the frame of her vanity mirror. She wanted a reminder of that day

“Mommm!” Miguelito called, opening her door.

Emily jumped, hand landing over her heart as she turned toward him. “How many times have I told you to knock?”

“Sorry.” He grinned. “Mateo isn’t getting ready like you said, and he’s making a mess in our room.”

She glanced over her oldest’s appearance, folding her hands over her chest. “And you’re completely ready, could hop in the car right now, I suppose?”

“I still have to brush my hair and teeth.”

“Then I suggest you go do that.”

Miguelito folded his lips in, looking to the side before he spun on his heels and walked away. Emily laughed to herself before making her way to the boys’ room to check in on her youngest. Sure enough, he sat next to the toy chest, playing contently with his new Playmobil set.

“Mateo,” she said, voice soft.

The boy’s head snapped up to her, a sheepish grin appearing.

“Are you ready to go?”

“No,” He shook his head, somehow still managing to look innocent.

“I put your clothes out on your bed an hour ago.”

“I’ll get dressed now.”

“Thank you.” She nodded, holding out her hand. “I’m going to hold onto your Playmobil until you’re ready to go, okay? So you don’t get distracted.”

Mateo looked between his new toy and his mother, not wanting to part with it. Emily waited with patience as he made his decision. “Once you’re ready, you can have it back.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” Emily smiled. With the added assurance, he handed the toy to his mother and rushed over to his clothes. “Don’t forget your hair and teeth.”

“I won’t!”

Emily smiled, leaving the room as a shirt went flying. Alejandra found her seconds later, brush and hairties in hand. “Can I have two braids today?”

Emily glanced down at her watch. They were already running behind. What was a few extra minutes at this point? “Go sit at the table.”

Alejandra had a big stubborn knot at the back of her head. That was what Emily got for not brushing it out before bed last night and the night before. The detangler bottle was all but empty. Alejandra had more hair than her mother and that was saying something. Emily let out a long sigh as she soaked the knot with watered-down detangler. “You’ve got rats nest back here, Mija. I’ll do my best, but it’s probably gonna hurt.”

Alejandra only nodded. The mother and daughter duo were more than familiar with the process, both individually and together. Emily had her own memories of sitting at the kitchen table as her mother brushed through massive knots, leaving her hair massive and frizzy. There had been plenty of tears in her younger years before her scalp toughened, Her mother hadn’t known how to handle the texture or the amount of hair she had. Looking back at pictures, Emily knew exactly when she began caring for her own hair as a preteen.

It was Emily’s goal to make this time as painless as possible for her daughter. It didn’t mean there weren’t ever tears. Ale’s scalp had started out tender, but Emily was sure to be as delicate as possible, using as much detangler and conditioner as needed, being gentle with the combs, teasing the curls back to life afterward.

Emily didn’t yell or fuss when her daughter tried to get away from the pain. The mother did her best to distract from the pain with jokes or stories. Overall, she shaped the hours of hair care into quality time, something she’d always wanted her mother to do with it.

“Mami?”

“Yes, baby?” The comb caught on an extra ratty tangle. Alejandra hissed. “Sorry.”

She reached back, rubbing her scalp gently before allowing her mother to continue. “I think we need to do that conditioner treatment thing again.”

“I think you’re right.” Emily kissed her head. “I’ll put it on the list. It helped a lot.”

Ale nodded. “Do you think Mr. Javi is going to think we ditched him? We were supposed to be there already.”

“I think he’s very used to us being late.” Emily laughed, freeing the last of the tangle with a deep sigh. She sprayed the hair again, letting it curl up a little before she began to part it.

“I think we should call him.”

“He’s probably at the park already.”

“I’ll leave a message. Just so he knows I was worried when he gets home.”

Emily rolled her eyes playfully, grabbing the phone off the wall behind her. The extra long cord lay flat on the floor between the wall and table. She handed it to Alejandra. “You know the number?”

The girl gave a firm single nod as she quickly dialed the number having memorized it at the beginning of the summer. She kicked her legs back and forth, bare feet brushing the legs of her chair under the table. Emily tied half of the curls to the side. “Look up at the ceiling, Ale.”

She obeyed, pressing the phone to her ear. Emily could hear it ringing as she focused on pulling all of the baby hairs around Ale’s hairline into the tight French braid. “Boys! Time to put on your socks and shoes!”

“Hello?” Javier’s static voice came through the phone.

Ale’s eyes lit up as she sat up a little straighter. “Mr. Javi! You’re supposed to be at the park already!”

He chuckled. “So are you, Alejandrina.”

“Yeah, but we always run late. You don’t.”

Emily shook her head, trying to hold in her laughter as she efficiently twisted Ale’s hair into the braid with minimal flyaways. Nothing like being called out by your own kid.

“I was just about to leave my house. What are you doing right now?”

“Mami is braiding my hair. I had a big tangle, otherwise, we would’ve been almost on time.”

“Well, that means I need to get going if I want to beat you there.”

Emily tied off the first French braid.

“Drive fast 'cause she just finished my first braid.” Alejandra tilts her head back again so Emily can start the second.

“Do your brothers have their shoes on?”

“Nope, still in their room.”

“Boys!” Emily called again. Javier’s chuckle came through a little louder. A faint Coming echoed from their room.

“He’s laughing at you,” Ale grinned up at her mother.

“Tell him to shut up.”

Ale’s eyes grew wide. “But I’m not allowed to say that. It’s not nice.”

“One-time exception.” Emily winked.

Alejandra bit her lip. Her honey-brown eyes sparkled with brief debate. Was she really being given permission? “Mami says to shut up.” She said it quickly like the permission might expire.

Javier kept laughing, it coming from deep within his chest this time. Emily let out a groan as she scrapped the braid and started over. The second one never cooperated like the first.

“I’ll see you soon,” Javier said.

“See you soon,” Alejandra replied and the line went dead. She handed the phone back to Emily who placed it back in the cradle. “We gotta go fast so we can beat him.” She wiggled excitedly in the chair.

The braid slipped through Emily’s fingers again and she let out a frustrated groan. “I’m trying, Mija. Boys!”

Finally, two pairs of footsteps echoed down the hallway. Mateo grabbed his toy off the table with a proud grin. “Tennis shoes with the laces, Mateo.” She reminded him.

Mateo groaned, dropping his velcro shoes where he stood. He was about to start kindergarten in the fall and she was desperate to get him ahead on the shoelace tying assignment. She’d learned her lesson from Alejandra’s kindergarten year. She’d essentially homeschooled Miguelito through Kindergarten in Mexico and managed to skip that assignment.

“I’ll help you,” Miguelito said.

Despite having to start Alejandra’s braid over for a fourth time, Emily found herself smiling as she listened to Miguelito’s patient and encouraging exchange with his younger brother over the tying of laces.

The flyaways weren’t as wrangled in the second braid, but finally, Emily tied it off. The Texas heat and sweat would pull them out soon enough. “Alright, shoes my dear.” She kissed Alejandra’s head

She popped out of the chair, pulling her shoes on as quick as possible. Matoe kicked his feet back and forth on the couch wearing a huge grin. “Done!”

“He did the second one all by himself!” Miguelito exclaimed, looking proud.

“That’s amazing,” Emily smiled brightly, smushing Mateo’s cheek with a kiss. “I’m very proud of you.”

“Thank you, Mommy.”

“Okay! Let’s go!” Alejandra said, panting as if she’d used all her energy to pull on her shoes. “We have to beat Mr. Javi!”

The family of four bustled out of the house, with only one person having to run back in for a forgotten item. Alejandra was certain they would beat Javier to the park until they pulled in next to his faded red pickup. He leaned against it, arms crossed, sunglasses on the tip of his nose, and shirt half unbuttoned as usual.

Alejandra sighed exasperatedly with a loud huff. Javier smiled, waving to her through the window as she glared at him. “He definitely speeded.”

“Sped,” Miguelito corrected.

Javier stuck his tongue out at Alejandra from the other side of the glass. She mimicked him. Emily bit back a laugh.

They set up their picnic under the shade of a large oak tree set off the playground. The park was relatively quiet for a Saturday with only one other family nearby, but they knew it likely would be. That’s why they picked it. Set outside the city limits, it was a longer drive for the Kuykendall crew, but closer to Javier.

After lunch, Emily and Javier were pulled into a game of Blind Man’s Bluff which ended when a blinded Javier knocked his head against the monkey bars. Luckily for the adults, the children from the other family asked to join.

“How’s your head?” Emily laughed, falling to the picnic blanket, laughter still lacing her voice.

Javier rubbed it, easing down with a soft groan. He wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to get off the ground between his aging bones and the hot summer day. “Been better but I’ll live.” He eased onto his back, letting the faint breeze ease over him.

Emily grabbed a water bottle from the cooler. handing it back to him. Cool droplets splashed over his chest and head. Javier placed it against his carotid artery, humming with contentment. “It’s hotter than I realized today.”

Emily nodded, pulling her hair out of the loose ponytail. “Should probably make the kids come cool down before too long.” She dug into the cooler again, searching for her own water bottle.

Javier’s eyes followed the sway of her curls. His hand floated up of its own accord, letting one twist gently around his finger. Emily didn’t even notice. He sighed softly. He needed to tell her. The thought passed as his heat-soaked brain caught up and he let it drop. The feel of her soft hair against his skin stayed.

“They should sleep good tonight.”

“We all should,” Emily sighed, pressing the water bottle to her neck.

“Nightmares been keeping you up?” Javier asked, easing into a sitting position.

“Not as often as they had. You?” She glanced at him, pulling her hair over one shoulder.

Javier bit his lip, arms slung over his knees. A pit formed in his stomach. He knew he had to tell her. He couldn’t put it off any longer, not when he had a date circled on the calendar. “A little more the past week.”

“Something happen?” Javier looked away, a newfound interest in the tree to their left. His brow creased, frown lines appearing around his mouth. Emily felt the air shift. She fought the fight or flight response itching to life inside her. “Javier?”

He swallowed, pulling his attention back to her. “The DEA offered me a position,” he huffed, pulling up some of the grass beside him. “Hell, it’s a promotion really, back in Colombia. They want me to help take down Cali.”

Emily’s heart dropped. She tried to hide the dread that filled her, but he could see it. “When do you leave?”

“Never said I was going.”

“Didn’t have to. You wouldn’t be actin like someone died if you weren’t.”

Javier finally met her eyes through the light tint of his sunglasses. She chewed on her lip, eyes glistening even in the shade. “I’m sorry,” he said. His arm settled across her leg, hand hanging on her calf. Their thighs pressed against each other. Even in the scorching heat, neither minded.

“When do you leave?”

“August 5th”

Emily looked away, eyes tracking each of her children on the playground. They still played happily with the other children, having moved to a regular game of tag. “How long?”

“Contract’s for a year. Could be longer though. Just depends.”

Her gut twisted in a million tiny knots. She had so many questions. Some for him, and some for herself. Would she still be able to do all these things without him?

“You didn’t tell me they’d offered you a position.”

It was a silly thing to say. He didn’t owe her anything, but she felt a little hurt he hadn’t told her he was even considering it. “I didn’t think I would at first, but they kept calling and I-” Javier took a deep breath.

“You realized you had unfinished business.” She met his eyes again.

Javier sucked in a deep breath. “Yeah…”

She nodded, leaning into him slightly so their shoulders touched. He squeezed her calf softly as she wove her arms through his. The breeze picked up a little, providing some relief. Slowly, her body leaned into him more. Emily hesitated only slightly before letting her head drop to his shoulder.

Javier looked at it, almost in disbelief as the faint smell of her shampoo drifted his way. His heart pounded in his chest as his brain ran wild, setting off all the signals like he was a teenager asking his crush to homecoming. He hadn’t felt this way in years.

He wanted to press a kiss to her forehead. He wanted to do more than that, but the better-behaved part of his brain warned against it. One day, maybe he could kiss her head like well-meaning friends do, but not now. He wasn’t in the position to be a well-meaning friend today, and she had still hesitated to fully relax into him. Instead, he settled on resting his head against hers.

She kept her eyes focused on the kids. He kept his on her.

“Don’t forget about us, Okay?” She said.

Javier nudged against her softly, a soft smile ghosting over his lips. “Never. Couldn’t break Alejandra’s heart like that.”

She laughed and his heart lifted. “She’s grown quite fond of Mr. Javi.” She nudged him back, looking his way again. The whole world melted away when she looked at him like that.

Javier chuckled. He tucked a runaway curl behind Emily’s ear, careful not to linger. “Hope she’s not the only one.”

“I mean I think the boys will miss you too, but they don’t seem to have the same… affinity for you,” Emily winked at him. “that Ale does.”

“And my best friend?” Javier said. It was the first time the words felt painful to say like they didn’t cover the full scope of what Emily was to him.

“Will miss you greatly.” She squeezed his arm. “Not sure how I’m gonna function without you really.” She said it with an air of humor, but they both knew there was a real question buried under it.

He searched her eyes, racking his brain for something to say, but nothing came.

The kids came running back, Alejandra running through their bubble first followed by Miguelito, and then Mateo lagging behind on his shorter legs.

“Everyone needs to sit and drink some water,” Emily instructed.

Javier thought she might pull away, switch instantly into mom mode as he’d seen her do so many times, but she stayed against him as the kids followed her instructions with heavy panting.

Javier smiled taking in the scene. It made him wonder if he was doing the right thing. He had doubts about going back to Colombia, but the pull to finish it once and for all had outweighed them all. This right here, balanced the scales, tipping them in the other direction even.

Without warning, Alejandra gasped looking directly at the adults. “Don’t move.”

She dug around in Emily’s bag, pulling out the Polaroid camera Emily toted everywhere. Ale had as big of an affinity for taking pictures as her mother.

“Ale, I’m all sweaty,” Emily said as her daughter held it up.

“No mami, you look beautiful,” She chastised. “Now smile.”

“Do as the lady says.” Javier chuckled, shifting so his arm was behind Emily’s back as he let a genuine smile overtake his face. Emily’s hand fell to his knee. She sighed, but obeyed, smiling at the camera.

Ale shifted around, making sure to get the correct angle until finally the camera flashed. She announced it was “perfect” before the photo had fully spit out of the camera and placed it carefully in the case Emily kept for developing photos.

Javier chuckled next to her as he slowly pulled away from her. Even in the sweltering Texas heat, Emily missed him next to her.

Emily lay in bed that night, sheets kicked to her feet. She couldn’t get it out of her mind. Javier was leaving. Leaving Texas, leaving her, and he didn’t know when he was going to be back. What if he didn’t come back? The thought turned her blood to ice, sparking the flame of anxiety. She shot up, sweat gathering across her skin as she struggled to catch her breath. She couldn’t go there, couldn’t let the thoughts consume her, but they already had. Try as she might, none of her usual tools worked to combat it as images of Javier lying in the street with a bullet hole filled her brain.

Finally, she pulled herself out of bed on shaky feet. She grabbed a stray pack of cigarettes and a lighter off the table on her way to the backyard, barely keeping it together long enough to flick the lighter to life and inhale the smoke. Her shaking steadied with the first hit of nicotine. The rhythm of it gave her mind a distraction, pressing the butt to her lips, the orange glow at the tip, smoke filling her lungs and then releasing into the air. She hadn’t smoked in months, deciding to stop when Javier did, but tonight none of that mattered. He was leaving her.

The door opened behind her. She spun around to find her father, looking disheveled in his boxers and opened robe with his hair sticking up. He lifted an eyebrow. He returned the gesture, holding out his hand for the pack of cigarettes. She handed it over with the lighter.

Jaime methodically pulled one out, flicking the lighter with more ease and steady hand than Emily had moments before. The father and daughter stood next to each other, their silhouettes copies of the other in the moonlight.

“Haven’t caught you out here in a while.”

“Was I loud?”

“Rattled the whole house when you slammed the door.”

Emily cringed, taking another drag from the cigarette. “Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

She waited a second, flicking the ash. “I’m guessing you already know.”

Jaime sighed. “I knew he was offered it. Just found out he accepted last evenin.” Emily bristled slightly. “It’s just a year, Sweetheart.”

“No, the contract is for a year.”

Jaime turned toward his daughter. She looked like the Emily he’d known before the spring, the one who was scared and jumpy all the time, not the blooming flower he’d come to know in the past few months. The difference was night and day. He didn’t want to see her go back to that place.

“Em…”

“What if he doesn’t make it back?” Emily interrupted him, letting the internal thoughts become external. “What if he gets shot or worse, and I never see him again?”

He reached out, putting an arm around his daughter. He kissed her head, rubbing soothing circles against her back. Tears gathered in Emily’s eyes.

“He’s good at what he does.”

“Even the best agents get killed.”

Jaime nodded. He’d know some of those. He kept his mouth shut and let Emily talk. That was what she needed anyway. She talked through all of it until she started leaning into him more, words slurring with sleep until she all but fell asleep standing against him.

He smiled, guiding his grown, sleepwalking daughter through the house. He tucked her into bed, all the nights he missed when she was little flickering through his mind. It was these nights when it hit the most. The what ifs. What if he’d pursued more legal action against her mother? What if he hadn’t let the DEA whisk him off to Guadalajara without a custody agreement? The guilt of it all never left him.

He pushed the hair out of her face, setting one last kiss on her forehead. As he closed the door behind him, he heard her soft, slurred words. “Goodnight, Dad.”

He smiled to himself. “Goodnight, Sweetheart.”

[theworldoffostering]

We had a great time at a Make A Wish event this weekend. It was at a zoo, and had a bunch of Disney and superhero characters there. They served lunch, had face painting, and a scavenger hunt. I’m not sure NB has ever been to a zoo. It was nice to have a little down time.

Baby won a bag of candy from our local library. He had to guess how many candies were in the jar, and his guess was only one number away, so he won all of the candy. We picked it up yesterday. He was thrilled!

DS had his senior pictures done last week. I cannot believe how expensive they were! We get the proofs later this week, and I know they’ll be great. The photographer is really talented. We’ve used her before, and I guess I feel like given that Ms. 6 never had senior photos taken, it was worth the splurge for DS. I’m just glad we could make it work financially.

DH had his next paper assignment due next week and he has yet to start it even though I’ve provided him several hours multiple days last week to work on it. I believe he spent most of that time sleeping while I was on kid duty. I feel like there is a serious problem happening here, but I don’t know what it is. He met with his psych last week, and I sat in on it. They are increasing his antidepressant and the psych suggested next level of care, but given that DH is not wanting to harm himself, next level of care is not available. He does however, feel deep hopelessness which creates apathy, lack of clear thinking, and zero motivation. I don’t know what my role is supposed to be as his spouse. It all feels very disconcerting. I’d love to do some reading on depression, how to help as a spouse, etc., if you have any good book recs.

We did book MGM Park in Vegas. Tell me anything I should know. We are not renting in a car and I’m writing down any and all suggestions. Mostly, I want to have an enjoyable pool experience and sleep well. I’d really like to be able to turn my brain off for a couple of days. I hope I can make that happen.

I met with my endocrin last week and she thinks I’m doing well. I have a full body scan coming up in September. If that comes back clear, I will basically be considered in remission. Yippee!

Ms. 6’s birthday is this week. I don’t know what to get her. She’s driving down to visit for a week or so and I feel like that’s too long. I know that makes me sound like a jerk; I sincerely love her and care about her, and also feel like it’s incredibly stressful to be around her right now because her life decisions stress me out. How do other parents manage this? Give me all of your tips. She’s committing to attend the college which will land her about $60k in debt if she graduates in four years when she could go to a state school, and graduate debt free. She won’t get a job for the summer. She won’t go to her mom’s house and get her things. It’s very different than how I would advise her, and it’s stresses me out, but I know that’s a me issue and not a her issue.

[ladysif8]

Captured in Color

Rated: Mature

Pairing: Bucky x Steve

Tags: Baker Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Meetcute, Gay Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Photo Shoots, Stucky, First Meetings, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Pride Month.

Summary: Milia Cooper, a talented photographer for a renowned New York magazine, is all set for an important Pride Month shoot when her models cancel at the last minute. Desperate and determined, she turns to her childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes, and her college confidant, Steve Rogers. As they step in to save the day, Milia seizes the chance to play matchmaker, hoping to spark a connection between the two. Amid the vibrant backdrop of the Pride celebration, unexpected feelings emerge, making this shoot one that none of them will ever forget.

Welp, it's taken a year to write. But better late than never! I present to you my first Stucky fic! It's a little rough; all mistakes are my own.

A special shoutout to @talia-rumlow for planting this seed in my brain and helping me water it.

Nestled in the heart of Brooklyn, Pride Pastries & Perks occupied a cozy corner of an old, charming building that had stood the test of time. The bakery's façade was a delightful blend of vintage and modern aesthetics, with exposed brick walls that told stories of decades past. The large, floor-to-ceiling windows at the front of the shop bathed the interior in natural light, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The bakery's name, Pride Pastries & Perks, was elegantly scrolled across the glass in bold, whimsical lettering that drew the eye of passersby. Inside, the scent of freshly baked goods mingled with the rich aroma of brewing coffee, enticing customers to step in and indulge.

The interior was a haven of rustic charm. Wooden beams ran across the high ceilings, and the original hardwood floors creaked softly underfoot. A mix of colorful, mismatched chairs and tables added a playful touch, while potted plants dotted around the room brought a burst of greenery, complementing the earthy tones of the space.

Behind the counter, a glass display case showcased an array of vibrant pastries and cookies, each one a small work of art. The pride-themed confections were especially popular, their bright colors and intricate designs celebrating love and diversity. And it's not just the pastries that are a work of art. Bucky, the skilled baker, could often be seen working in the open kitchen at the back, his concentration evident as he piped delicate patterns onto freshly baked treats. His personal touch is what makes our pastries truly special.

The bakery was more than just a place to get a sweet treat; it was a vibrant community hub where locals gathered to share stories, laugh, and enjoy the cozy ambiance. Pride Pastries & Perks was a testament to the spirit of Brooklyn—diverse, welcoming, and full of heart. It's a place where you're not just a customer but a valued member of our community.

Bucky stood at his workbench, his hands rhythmically kneading a vibrant swirl of rainbow bagel dough. The colors blended together in a mesmerizing pattern, a testament to his baking skills and creativity. The scent of yeast and flour filled the air, mixing with the sweet aroma of pastries and freshly brewed coffee.

The bell above the door jingled, signaling the arrival of a customer. Instantly, his two front-end employees called out in unison, "Welcome to Pride Pastries & Perks!"

Bucky smiled to himself, appreciating the enthusiasm they brought to the shop. He continued working, focusing on achieving the perfect texture for the dough when he heard a familiar voice.

"Is Bucky busy?" It was Mila, his best friend since kindergarten, her voice carrying the same blend of curiosity and determination it always did.

"Yes!" Bucky hollered without looking up, knowing that if Mila was here, she was probably up to something.

But Wanda, one of the baristas, chimed in cheerfully, "No, he's not!"

Bucky glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Mila flash a grateful smile at Wanda. "Thanks!" she said, heading towards the back.

Bucky rolled his eyes playfully as he saw her approach.

Mila took in the sight of her best friend, his shoulder-length brown hair pulled up in a bun on his head, undercut freshly trimmed. He was wearing jeans, and a black tee stretched across his chest, dusted in flour from his baking. It was a shame Bucky Barnes was gay, she thought to herself with a small smile.

His rugged good looks and strong physique were enough to turn heads anywhere he went, but his kind heart and unwavering loyalty made him truly irresistible.

"That was so rude," Mila said, walking into the kitchen, a mock pout on her lips.

Bucky wrinkled his nose at her playfully. "You never visit me at work unless you need something from me or you're having a bad day and need to vent," he said, glancing at his watch. "And since it's only 9:30, I'm assuming you want something. So, which is it?"

Mila rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter. "Can't a girl just visit her best friend without ulterior motives?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Not you," he teased, continuing to knead the colorful dough.

"Okay, fine," she sighed dramatically. "I do need something. But it's for a good cause, I promise."

Bucky stopped kneading for a moment, giving her his full attention. "Alright, spill. What's so important that you had to disrupt my dough time?"

"Okay, so you know how I'm doing this piece for Pride for the magazine, right?" Mila asked.

Bucky nodded. He knew his best friend was working on a Pride spread for the New York Chronicles. Mila was one of the best writers and photographers the magazine had, and she'd been working on this project for months. She was showcasing queer-owned businesses and their owners.

"Anyway, the two guys we had to do the spread dropped out. So now I need new models. The shoot is in two days."

Bucky plopped his dough into a bowl to proof a second time before draping a cheesecloth over it. "Okay, what does this have to do with me?" he asked, dusting the flour off his hands.

"I need you to model for me," Mila said, her tone pleading.

Bucky laughed and outright cackled. "No," he said, shaking his head emphatically.

"Please, Bucky!" Mila begged, following her best friend around the kitchen.

Bucky rolled his eyes. "No, I'm not a model, Mils. I'm a baker," he said, grabbing a tray of white-frosted sugar cookies.

"Buuucky..." she whined, stomping as she followed him to his station.

Bucky had laid out an array of bright, colorful royal icing from red to purple; all twisted up in piping bags ready to be used. He'd already finished three trays of cookies cooling on the rack, each one a half-circle shape with a rainbow piped on top. Underneath, in beautiful script, was the phrase "Love is Love." The colors of the rainbow popped against the white frosting, making each cookie a little piece of art. There were three other designs as well: one was a heart-shaped cookie with the word PRIDE stretched across it in bold letters, each letter a different rainbow color. Another cookie spelled out the word "Love" in purple, while "Wins" was in red, yellow, green, and blue. The last cookie said "Pride," with a cute little heart over the 'i.' The base of this cookie was rainbow-striped with a thin white line between each color. They were beautifully made.

"Mila, don't whine, honey. That's not attractive," he smirked, picking up a red piping bag.

Mila frowned, crossing her arms and resting her hip against the silver table. "Bucky, I'm serious. I'm in a bind here. I need someone who embodies the spirit of Pride and community. And you're perfect for it."

He shook his head again. "I wouldn't even know what to do."

"Just be yourself," Mila insisted. "That's all I need. You, being your amazing self. Plus, it'll be fun. Think of it as a new adventure!"

Bucky sighed, leaning against the counter. "Why me, though? There have to be other people who can do this."

Mila stepped closer, her eyes earnest. "Because you're not just anyone, Bucky. You're passionate and talented, and you care about this community. And you're my best friend. Please, I really need you."

Bucky looked at her, seeing the desperation and sincerity in her eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck, considering. "You really think I can do this?"

"What if I told you the other guy is a tall, bulky, blonde hunk?" Mila said, wagging her eyebrows as Bucky looked over at her, his blue eyes narrowing with interest.

"He's an artist, 33," she added, seeing him pucker his lips as he thought it over. "And he's single," she sang, dragging out the last word with a playful smile.

"Gay?" Bucky asked.

"Bi," Mila replied, biting her lip with excitement. They both knew she had him, hook, line, and sinker.

Bucky sighed, leaning against the counter. "You're relentless, you know that?"

Mila grinned, knowing she had him hooked. "Yup. So, what do you say? Will you do it?"

Bucky shook his head but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. "Fine. But you owe me big time."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" Mila squealed, clapping her hands. "You're amazing, the bestest of best friends, you're a goddess, you're—"

Bucky quickly stuffed a cookie in her mouth. "I get it," he laughed.

Mila frowned for a moment before taking a bite of the heart-shaped cookie, chewing happily. "These are really good," she mumbled around a mouthful.

"Of course they are; I made them," he winked over his shoulder.

Mila walked out of the bakery, balancing two to-go coffees in one hand and a bag with two cinnamon rolls in the other. She smiled triumphantly, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The morning sun was shining, and the streets of Brooklyn buzzed with their usual energy.

As she strolled down the street, she pulled out her phone and shot off a quick text to Peter Parker, her intern.

Miss Mila: Got Bucky!

Peter's response was almost immediate.

Parker: Great! So, does that mean Steve agreed?

Mila quickly typed back.

Miss Mila: On my way to secure him now.

Parker: So you lied to your friend?

Miss Mila: No, I told him a little fib.

Parker: Isn't that the same thing?

Mila rolled her eyes and pocketed her phone. Interns, she thought with a smirk, always so literal.

Feeling a renewed sense of purpose, she picked up her pace. The sidewalk was bustling with people, but Mila weaved through them effortlessly, her mind focused on the task ahead. She needed to convince Steve, and she was determined to ensure the success of her Pride photoshoot. The thought of the vibrant, celebratory spread she envisioned filled her with excitement and anticipation.

Steve stood in his studio, surrounded by a vibrant array of paints and canvases. Soft jazz music played in the background, mingling with the quiet hum of the city outside. The room was a chaotic symphony of color, with splatters of paint on the floor and various completed pieces lining the walls, each one a testament to his creativity and passion.

He wore a white tank top, now speckled with a rainbow of paint, and his jeans bore similar evidence of his artistic endeavors. His hands moved with practiced ease, applying bold strokes of color to the canvas before him. He was working on a Pride piece, a celebration of love and identity, and the canvas was already bursting with life.

The painting featured an array of abstract figures in a joyous dance, their forms intertwining in a kaleidoscope of colors. Each stroke was deliberate, and each hue was chosen to convey the vibrancy and diversity of the LGBTQ+ community. Steve stepped back for a moment, wiping his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a smear of blue paint on his forehead. He smiled at the small mess he had made on himself, a familiar part of his artistic process.

He took a deep breath, feeling the music and the energy of the piece fill him with a sense of purpose and fulfillment. This was more than just a painting; it was a statement, a tribute to the beauty of diversity and the power of love.

As he worked, he lost himself in the rhythm of the brushstrokes and the soothing melodies of the jazz music. The outside world faded away, leaving only the canvas, the colors, and his passion for creating something meaningful. The paintbrush glided effortlessly across the canvas, each stroke adding depth and emotion to the unfolding scene.

Steve paused again, examining his work with a critical eye. He nodded to himself, satisfied with the progress. There was still much to do, but he could already see the piece coming to life, reflecting the spirit of Pride in every vibrant detail. The figures on the canvas seemed to dance with joy, their colorful forms celebrating the beauty of being true to oneself.

Steve was lost in the flow of his painting when he heard a knock on the door. Without looking up, he hollered, "Enter!"

The door creaked open, and Mila walked in carrying two to-go cups of coffee and a small brown sack. The rich aroma of the coffee quickly filled the studio, blending with the scent of paint and creativity.

Mila eyed Steve carefully as she crossed the room, taking in his paint-splattered clothes and the blue smear on his forehead, even a little in his blonde hair. Steven Grant Rogers was an absolute mouth-watering specimen, with golden blonde locks, sweet blue eyes, and an impressive physique. His broad shoulders, muscular chest, and trim waist accentuated his glorious backside.

Mila had met Steve during her freshman year of college. They had an art history class together, and after being paired up for a partner project, the two became fast friends. Mila had even written her first article for the magazine on local artists featuring her dear friend.

"Darling, you look like shit," she commented with a smirk.

"Hardy har har," Steve replied dryly, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He set down his brush and wiped his hands on a rag, turning to face her.

Mila handed him one of the coffee cups and the brown sack. "Thought you could use a pick-me-up," she said. "And maybe a break."

Steve accepted the coffee gratefully, taking a long sip. "Bless you," he mumbled around the cup as the warmth and caffeine instantly revived him. "This is exactly what I needed."

She grinned, settling herself on a stool nearby. "So, how's the masterpiece coming along?"

Steve glanced at the canvas, his expression softening with pride. "It's getting there. Still, a lot of work to do, but I'm happy with how it's shaping up."

Mila nodded, taking a sip of her own coffee. "It looks incredible, Steve. I can already see the energy and emotion in it."

He smiled, appreciating her encouragement. "Thanks, Mils."

"Here, brought you breakfast," she said, handing over a styrofoam container and a fork.

Steve's bright blue eyes lit up. "Is this what I think it is?" he asked, snatching the container from her hands. He opened it to reveal a massive, hot apple pie cinnamon roll.

The surface of the roll was dusted with a generous coating of cinnamon sugar, adding a delightful crunch to each mouthful. A heavenly aroma of warm cinnamon and baked apples wafted from the roll, tempting anyone within smelling distance.

Steve quickly dug into the cinnamon roll, taking a large bite. He moaned happily as he chewed, savoring the sweet and spicy flavors melting in his mouth.

The roll was large and fluffy, with layers of soft, buttery dough spiraled around a rich apple pie filling. Each bite revealed tender chunks of cinnamon-spiced apples nestled amidst a sweet and gooey caramel sauce that oozed out with every bite.

As Steve indulged in the decadent treat, he couldn't help but marvel at the perfect balance of flavors and textures. It was comfort food at its finest, a sweet escape from the demands of the day and a reminder of the simple joys in life.

"I swear," Steve started to speak around his full mouth, "these get better every time," he mumbled rather obnoxiously.

Mila rolled her eyes, a smirk on her lips. "Manners, Steven," she chided playfully.

"Swrry," he mumbled, his bulging cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

Steve took another bite of the cinnamon roll, savoring the flavor before he glanced at Mila. "So, what are you up to? I thought you were getting ready for a photo shoot in a few days."

Mila shifted on her stool, her expression turning slightly sheepish. "Yeah, about that..." She hesitated before continuing, "I need to ask you something. I need you to be my second model."

Steve blinked at her, utterly shocked. "Me? A model?"

Mila nodded, looking a bit desperate. "My models quit at the last minute, and now I'm scrambling. I don't have anyone else."

Steve fumbled with his words, trying to find a way to say no. "Mila, I'm not a model. I don't know how to do that. I can't..."

"Please, Steve," she begged, batting her pretty lashes at him.

Steve huffed. Mila was a very attractive woman. Her beautiful brown doe eyes, surrounded by thick lashes, dark brown hair, and naturally tanned skin, thanks to her father, who hailed from Spain, always caught attention. Steve had been attracted to her the moment he saw her curvy, voluptuous body. While he preferred men, he wasn't blind. Thankfully, they had developed a brother-sister relationship over time.

"Mila, I really don't think—"

"Please, Steve," she interrupted, her eyes pleading.

He sighed, knowing he was already weakening. "You know I'm terrible in front of a camera," he protested half-heartedly.

"Steve, you'll be perfect," she insisted. "I just need you to stand there and look like the amazing person you are. You don't have to do anything special."

He looked at her, those doe eyes full of hope and desperation. He couldn't say no to her, not when she looked at him like that.

"Fine," he relented, "but only because it's you."

Mila's face lit up with relief and gratitude; she squealed happily, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, Steve. You have no idea how much this means to me."

Steve sighed, resigning himself to his fate. "Alright, alright. But who am I modeling with?"

Mila's eyes sparkled with excitement. "He's a tall, dark, and handsome guy with steel blue eyes. Trust me, you're going to get along great."

Steve raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. "Tall, dark, and handsome, huh? Sounds like you've got quite the catch."

Mila grinned, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, definitely. You'll see. He's perfect for this shoot, and I think you two will make an amazing team."

Steve couldn't help but smile back at her infectious enthusiasm. "I'm trusting you on this."

Mila's grin widened. "You won't be disappointed, Steve. This is going to be fantastic, I promise."

Bucky walked into the studio, where Cage The Elephant's "Cigarette Daydreams" played softly in the background. The familiar sound of a camera shutter clicking and a deep, resonant laugh filled the air. He suddenly felt a wave of nervousness wash over him, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he stepped further into the room, his eyes landed on a tall man with artfully messy blonde hair and a neatly trimmed, darker blonde beard. The man's cerulean blue eyes sparkled as he laughed, a sound that seemed to light up the entire space. He was wearing a white t-shirt that was sinfully tight, showcasing his impressive biceps, and light-wash denim jeans with rips at the knees. Bucky couldn't help but notice that he was barefoot, adding an unexpected casualness to his appearance.

Bucky almost forgot to breathe because that man was, without a doubt, the most handsome man he had ever seen. His presence was commanding yet approachable, and Bucky felt an overwhelming mixture of awe and intimidation.

Trying to steady himself, Bucky took a deep breath and stepped further into the studio, feeling his palms grow sweaty. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the man, who was effortlessly captivating even as he laughed and joked with Mila.

Mila spotted Bucky as soon as he stepped into the studio. "Bucky!" she hollered, jogging over to him with a bright smile on her face.

Bucky tried to play it cool, standing straight and giving a casual wave. But as she got closer, his facade cracked. "Mila, you didn't tell me the other guy was built like a Greek god," he scolded his voice a mix of awe and exasperation.

Mila laughed, glancing back at Steve, who was still engrossed in his conversation with the photographer. "Oh, come on, Buck. You're no slouch yourself. Besides, I did say he was handsome."

Bucky shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Handsome is one thing, but that guy could be the poster child for perfection. You set me up."

Mila grinned mischievously. "Maybe a little. But trust me, you two are going to look amazing together in this shoot. Just relax and have fun with it."

Bucky sighed, glancing back at Steve, who caught his eye and gave a friendly nod. "Alright, alright. Let's get this over with," he muttered, though a small part of him was actually looking forward to working with Steve.

Mila beamed and grabbed Bucky's hand, leading him towards Steve. "Come on, let's get you introduced."

As they approached, Steve turned to face them, his blue eyes twinkling with curiosity and warmth. Mila's excitement was palpable as she gestured between the two men. "Steve, this is Bucky Barnes, the amazing baker and my oldest friend I was telling you about. Bucky, this is Steve Rogers, the incredible artist and the only reason I made it through art history in college."

Steve extended his hand with a friendly smile. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm a huge fan of your cinnamon rolls."

Bucky blushed as he took Steve's hand, feeling the warmth and strength in his grip. "Nice to meet you too, Steve."

Peter Parker, with his ever-present enthusiasm, popped into the studio with a grin. He was dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie, his hair slightly tousled from running around.

"Hey, Bucky!" he called out, spotting Bucky talking to Steve and Mila. He jogged over, barely able to contain his excitement. "Good to see you; they're ready for you in wardrobe."

Bucky glanced at Peter, appreciating his youthful energy. "Thanks, Peter," he said with a nod, turning to Mila and Steve. "Guess I'll go get changed."

Mila patted Bucky on the back reassuringly. "We'll be waiting."

Steve gave him an encouraging smile. "Looking forward to seeing the final look."

Peter led a blushing Bucky toward the wardrobe area, chatting animatedly. "You're going to look awesome, Bucky. Mila had the whole awesome idea planned out for the spread."

Bucky chuckled, feeling a bit more at ease with Peter's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Peter. I'll try not to mess it up."

Steve was laughing as Mila took test shots of him, her enthusiasm infectious. "Yes, darling, you're fabulous! Work it, darling; the camera is your friend," she cooed, her voice dripping with playful encouragement. Steve played along, striking exaggerated poses that made both of them burst into laughter.

The sound of footsteps caught Steve's attention, and he turned to see Bucky walking in. His heart nearly stopped. Bucky was dressed similarly to Steve, though his shirt wasn't nearly as tight. His brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, a few loose strands framing his face. The light caught his steely blue eyes, making them shine. His smooth, baby face and cleft chin gave him a look of rugged yet gentle charm that made Steve's breath catch.

Steve's mind raced, an unexpected wave of desire surging through him. He wanted to grab Bucky and kiss him right then and there, but he forced himself to stay composed. Instead, he offered a welcoming smile, trying to steady his suddenly racing heart.

Mila, sensing the tension, turned to Bucky with a grin. "Bucky, you look amazing! Come on over; let's get some shots of you two together."

Bucky, looking slightly nervous but determined, walked over to join Steve. As they stood side by side, Steve couldn't help but feel an electric charge in the air. Despite the playful banter and lighthearted atmosphere, there was an undeniable connection forming between them.

Mila adjusted her camera, ready to capture the chemistry that was already palpable. "Alright, boys, let's make some magic happen."

Mila snapped a few shots of Steve and Bucky smiling at each other, capturing the natural chemistry between them. "Perfect, you two are naturals," she praised, her excitement evident.

"Peter!" she hollered, causing the young intern to spring into action. He and another assistant quickly pulled out a large white backdrop, setting it up behind Steve and Bucky. Peter then brought in a cart loaded with bottles of paint in every color of the rainbow and handed each of them a paintbrush.

Steve and Bucky exchanged curious glances, each holding a brush as if it were a foreign object. Steve finally asked, "What are we supposed to do with these?"

Mila grinned mischievously. "Just have at it! Get creative, have some fun."

Bucky, embracing the spontaneity of the moment, dipped his brush into a pot of blue paint. As he turned to look at Steve, Peter accidentally dropped a bottle of paint behind him. Startled, Bucky whipped around, flinging paint off his brush. A streak of blue splattered across Steve's face, making both men freeze for a second before bursting into laughter.

"Nice aim, Barnes," Steve teased, wiping some of the paint from his cheek with a playful smirk.

Bucky laughed sheepishly. "Sorry about that, Steve. Didn't mean to give you a new look."

Mila was already snapping photos, capturing the candid moment of chaos and fun. "That's it! Keep going; this is fantastic!"

Steve, deciding to embrace the chaos, dipped his brush into a pot of red paint and flicked it toward Bucky, leaving a streak across his shirt. "Payback," he said with a grin.

The room quickly filled with laughter and vibrant splashes of color as the two men playfully painted each other and the backdrop, losing themselves in the joyous spontaneity of the moment. Mila kept her camera clicking, capturing every playful exchange, knowing these were the shots that would truly bring the Pride photoshoot to life.

Peter hurried back into the room, this time holding a vibrant Pride flag. "Here, hold this behind you," he said, handing it to Bucky.

Bucky and Steve, both now covered in splashes of paint, took the flag and positioned it behind them, stretching it out so its bright colors were on full display, draping across their shoulders. Despite the paint and the mess, they couldn't stop smiling. Mila's camera clicked away, capturing the raw, joyful energy of the moment.

"Perfect, you two! Just like that!" Mila called out, her excitement evident in her voice. She snapped shot after shot, loving the way the colors and their expressions told a story of pride and connection.

As they held the flag, Steve found himself unable to look away from Bucky. He noticed how the blue of Bucky's eyes sparkled even more against the colorful backdrop. His gaze drifted down to Bucky's lips, then back up to his eyes, and then down again. It was as if the world around them faded, leaving just the two of them in that moment.

Summoning his courage, Steve took a leap of faith. He leaned down and pressed his lips against Bucky's, his heart pounding in his chest. For a split second, he worried about how Bucky would react, but his fears melted away as Bucky responded, pushing up into the kiss and deepening it.

The studio seemed to pause, the sounds of the city outside and the soft hum of the studio equipment fading away. It was just them, lost in a kiss that felt like a culmination of everything unspoken between them.

Mila, sensing the significance of the moment, snapped a few more pictures, capturing the intimacy and raw emotion of the kiss. The Pride flag behind them fluttered slightly, adding a symbolic layer to the already powerful scene.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Steve whispered, "I've wanted to do that for a while."

Bucky, his cheeks flushed and eyes shining, replied, "Me too." They both laughed, a sense of relief and happiness washing over them.

Mila lowered her camera, grinning widely. "Now that's what I call a perfect shot."

After they were cleaned up and ready to leave, Steve walked with Bucky to the door. The evening air was cool and refreshing after the colorful chaos of the photoshoot. As they stepped outside, Steve hesitated for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Bucky's hand, stopping him gently.

"Bucky," Steve began, his voice a mix of nerves and hope, "I was wondering if you'd like to get dinner sometime."

Bucky looked up at Steve, his eyes twinkling and a smile tugging at his lips. He bit his lower lip, clearly pleased. "I'd love that," he replied softly.

Steve's heart lifted at Bucky's response. Emboldened, he asked, "Would it be too bold of me to suggest that dinner could be this evening?"

Bucky chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "Yes, it would be bold of you," he said, leaning in a little closer, "and yes, I would love to go to dinner tonight."

Steve grinned, his relief and excitement evident. "Great! There's a nice little place not too far from here. How about we meet back here in an hour?"

Bucky nodded, his smile widening. "Sounds perfect."

They shared a lingering look, the promise of the evening ahead hanging in the air between them. With a final squeeze of Bucky's hand, Steve reluctantly let go. "See you in an hour, then."

"Can't wait," Bucky replied, his voice full of anticipation.

As they parted ways to get ready for their impromptu date, both of them felt a thrilling sense of new beginnings and the exciting possibilities that lay ahead.

Mila and Peter had overheard the whole exchange, their eyes following Steve and Bucky as they walked away in different directions. Peter turned to Mila, a knowing look on his face.

"You planned this, didn't you?" he asked, a hint of admiration in his voice.

Mila dropped her bag over her shoulder, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied innocently. As she walked past Peter, she patted his cheek affectionately. "You did good today, Peter," she added, her tone warm and approving.

Peter blushed slightly at the praise but couldn't help but chuckle. "Thanks, Mila. And thanks for letting me be part of this. It was... pretty amazing."

Mila winked at him. "Just wait, Parker. This is only the beginning." With that, she strode confidently down the street, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction. Her plan had come together perfectly, and she couldn't wait to see where Steve and Bucky's newfound connection would lead.

Bucky and Steve walked side by side down the street, heading toward a small, family-owned Italian restaurant, Nona Pias, that Steve had suggested. The evening air was cool, and the city around them buzzed with life, the hum of traffic and distant chatter creating a lively backdrop.

As they walked, Steve reached out and gently took Bucky's hand, his thumb brushing lightly over Bucky's knuckles. He glanced at Bucky, his expression a mix of hope and nerves. "Is this okay?" he asked softly.

Bucky blushed, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He dipped his head, looking up at Steve from under his lashes. "Yeah," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

They continued walking, hand in hand, the simple connection feeling both new and wonderfully right. When they reached the restaurant, a cozy little place with warm fairy lights and the inviting smell of garlic and herbs wafting from inside, Steve let go of Bucky's hand only to open the door for him.

"After you," Steve said, a charming smile on his face.

Bucky smiled sweetly a light blush on his cheeks, "Thank you," he stepped inside, and as he did, Steve placed his hand on the small of Bucky's back, guiding him gently. The touch was warm and reassuring, and Bucky felt a flutter in his chest, thinking he might faint from the sheer perfection of the moment. This man was too good to be true; Steve was everything he had hoped for and more.

The hostess, Vicky, greeted Steve by name with a warm smile. Steve blushed at the look Bucky gave him, his face heating up in the soft light of the restaurant.

"I come here a lot," Steve admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

Bucky raised an amused brow, his lips twitching into a smile. "Is that so?" he said.

Steve's blush deepened, but he chuckled. "Yeah, the food's just that good."

Vicky smiled warmly at their exchange. "This way, gentlemen," she said, leading them to a quiet corner table nestled away from the main dining area. The table was set with a simple but elegant arrangement, a small candle flickering in the center. The atmosphere was intimate, the perfect setting for their first official date.

As they sat down, Steve pulled out Bucky's chair for him before taking his own seat. They exchanged shy smiles, the initial nerves melting away in the warm, inviting ambiance of the restaurant.

"Here's your menu. Tori will be your waitress tonight," Vicky said, placing a menu down in front of each of them.

Steve smiled, "Thanks, Vicky," he said.

Once they were settled and had a few minutes to look over the menu, Tori came over with two glasses of ice water, setting them down with practiced ease.

"What can I get you, gentlemen, to drink?" she asked, pulling a pencil from the red bun piled on top of her head.

While Bucky perused the menu, Steve glanced at the wine list. "How does Barbera d'Alba sound?" he asked, looking at Bucky for approval.

Bucky nodded, feeling a pleasant warmth spread through him at Steve's consideration. "Sounds perfect."

"We'll take a bottle, please," Steve said to Tori, who jotted it down with a nod.

"What can I get you for dinner?" she asked, her pencil poised above her notepad.

Bucky glanced at Steve before turning to Tori. "I'll have the chicken Parmesan, please," he said with a smile. "It's been ages since I've had a good one."

"Excellent choice," Tori nodded while jotting it down and then turned to Steve. "And for you?"

Steve glanced at the menu one last time before deciding. "I'll go with the spaghetti Bolognese," he said.

"I should have known, a creature of habit this one," she jerked her pencil in Steve's direction.

Steve shrugged, "I know what I like," he chuckled.

"I'll put this in and get the wine right out for you," she smiled, tucking the pencil back into her bun and heading off to retrieve their wine.

Before long, Tori returned with the bottle of Barbera d'Alba and two wine glasses. She expertly uncorked the bottle and poured a small amount into Steve's glass for him to taste. Steve swirled the wine, sniffed it appreciatively, and then took a sip, savoring the rich, fruity notes.

"This is great," Steve said, nodding his approval.

Tori filled both their glasses and left the bottle on the table with a smile. "Enjoy, gentlemen."

They toasted each other, clinking their glasses together gently. "To a great evening," Bucky said, his eyes meeting Steve's over the rim of his glass.

"To a great evening," Steve echoed, feeling a thrill of excitement.

They took a moment to savor the wine, letting the warmth of the alcohol and the pleasant atmosphere envelop them. The restaurant buzzed with soft conversations and the clinking of cutlery, creating a cozy, intimate setting.

As Steve and Bucky continued to talk, their conversation filled with laughter and shared stories, Tori returned with their meals. She balanced the plates expertly, a warm smile on her face as she approached their table.

"Here we are, gentlemen," she said, carefully placing Bucky's chicken Parmesan in front of him. The dish was a masterpiece of Italian comfort food, with perfectly breaded chicken, melted mozzarella, and a rich tomato sauce that made Bucky's mouth water.

"And for you," Tori continued, setting down Steve's spaghetti Bolognese. The generous portion of pasta was coated in a hearty, flavorful meat sauce and topped with a sprinkle of freshly grated Parmesan.

"Enjoy your meals," she said, giving them a friendly nod before heading off to attend to other tables.

Bucky inhaled deeply, savoring the delicious aroma wafting up from his plate. "This smells amazing," he said, picking up his fork and knife. He cut into the chicken, the crispy breading giving way to tender, juicy meat. His first bite was pure bliss, the flavors dancing on his tongue. "Oh wow, this is incredible."

Steve grinned, twirling his fork in the spaghetti and taking a bite. The rich Bolognese sauce was everything he had hoped for, bursting with robust flavors. "I knew this place wouldn't disappoint," he said, nodding in agreement. "It's just as good as I remember."

They ate with gusto, the conversation flowing naturally as they enjoyed their meals. Bucky's eyes sparkled as he recounted a funny story from his days learning to bake with his mom, and Steve found himself laughing along, feeling more at ease with each passing moment.

"So, what made you decide to pursue art as a career?" Bucky asked, taking a sip of his wine.

Steve paused, thinking back to his early days. "It's something I've always loved, even as a kid. I was always drawing or painting, trying to capture the world around me. When I got older, I realized it was more than just a hobby—it was a passion. I couldn't imagine doing anything else."

Bucky nodded, understanding the sentiment. "I get that. Baking is similar for me. It's my way of creating something tangible, something that brings joy to others. There's nothing quite like seeing someone's face light up when they taste something you've made."

Steve's eyes softened as he listened, appreciating Bucky's genuine passion. "It's amazing how art and food can both connect people in such profound ways," he said.

As the meal went on, Bucky found himself more and more captivated by Steve. The way he spoke about his art, his eyes lighting up with passion, and the gentle, thoughtful way he listened and responded to Bucky's stories made him feel seen and appreciated.

Steve, too, was drawn to Bucky's warmth and sincerity. He admired Bucky's dedication to his craft and the genuine joy he took in making others happy through his baking. There was an undeniable connection between them, a chemistry that was both exciting and comforting.

By the time they finished their meals, they were both feeling pleasantly full and slightly tipsy from the wine, their laughter mingling with the soft hum of the restaurant around them.

Tori returned to clear their plates, her smile as warm as ever. "How was everything?" she asked.

"Perfect," Steve said, glancing at Bucky, who nodded in agreement.

"Absolutely," Bucky added. "Thank you."

"Great to hear," Tori replied. "Can I get you anything else? Dessert, maybe?"

Steve looked at Bucky, a playful glint in his eye. "What do you think? Dessert?"

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. "I think I'm stuffed. But maybe next time?"

Steve's smile widened at the promise of a future date. "Next time, then," he agreed.

Tori nodded at their decline and left the check for them. Steve insisted on paying, and after a brief, friendly debate, Bucky relented, touched by Steve's chivalry.

As they prepared to leave, Steve looked at Bucky with a soft smile. "This was really nice, Bucky. I'm glad we did this."

Bucky smiled back, feeling a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the wine. "Me too, Steve. Me too."

After dinner, they decided to walk back to Bucky's apartment. The night air was crisp, and they walked close together, shoulders brushing. They talked and laughed, their voices mingling with the sounds of the city.

Their faces flushed with the warmth of alcohol as they made their way to Bucky's apartment. They swayed slightly as they walked, their steps not quite aligned as they walked under the dim streetlights. The sound of their laughter echoed softly through the quiet night air, and their conversation flowed effortlessly, weaving between stories and jokes.

As they walked, Steve reached out and gently took Bucky's hand again, the touch warm and reassuring. Bucky felt a flutter in his chest, a mix of excitement and contentment. The simple act of holding hands felt natural as if it was something they had been meant to do all along.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on everything from their favorite movies to their most embarrassing moments. Steve shared a story about a disastrous high school art project, and Bucky laughed so hard he had to stop walking for a moment to catch his breath.

"You seriously glued your own hand to the canvas?" Bucky asked, still chuckling.

Steve nodded, grinning sheepishly. "Yeah, it was a mess. Took hours to get it off."

Bucky shook his head, smiling. "I can't believe you just told me that."

"Well, I figured you should know what you're getting into," Steve said with a wink.

They continued their stroll, the comfortable silence between them occasionally broken by lighthearted banter. When they reached Bucky's apartment building, they lingered outside the door, neither wanting the night to end.

Steve looked at Bucky, his eyes soft in the dim streetlight. "I had a really great time tonight," he said quietly.

"Me too," Bucky replied, his voice equally soft. He felt a nervous excitement bubbling up inside him.

As they reached the brownstone that housed Bucky's apartment, their voices quieted. Steve gripped Bucky's hand a little tighter, not ready to say goodbye just yet. As they reached Bucky's apartment door, they paused, standing close together. The air between them was charged with anticipation. Steve looked into Bucky's eyes, his heart racing. For a moment, neither of them spoke, simply reveling in the presence of the other.

Steve wasn't sure if it was wine or if he was feeling particularly bold that day, but Steve ducked his head and kissed Bucky softly, his lips brushing against Bucky's in a tender, tentative touch. He pulled back slightly, searching Bucky's face for any sign of discomfort. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky didn't answer with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Steve's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, deeper and more passionate this time. Their tongues tangled together, and Bucky moaned into the kiss, tasting the sweet red wine on Steve's tongue.

The world around them seemed to blur and fade away.

Steve responded eagerly, his hands finding their way to Bucky's waist. As the kiss deepened, he pressed Bucky into the wall next to his apartment door, their bodies fitting together perfectly. The kiss was full of promise, a silent agreement that they were both exactly where they wanted to be.

Bucky's hands roamed up to Steve's hair, his fingers threading through the soft strands. He tugged gently, eliciting a low, pleased sound from Steve. The heat between them was undeniable, the chemistry electric.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless and a little dazed, Steve rested his forehead against Bucky's. "I've been wanting to do that all night," he admitted, his voice husky.

Bucky smiled, his eyes shining. "Me too," he replied, his breath mingling with Steve's. They stood there for a moment longer, wrapped up in each other, before reluctantly pulling away.

"Do you want to come in?" Bucky asked, his voice soft but hopeful.

Steve smiled, his heart pounding. "I'd love to," he replied, knowing that this was just the beginning of something incredible.

Bucky unlocked the door and ushered Steve inside. The dimly lit apartment offered a cozy sanctuary from the chilly night air. Steve took a moment to appreciate the space, a mix of vintage finds and modern elegance that spoke volumes about Bucky's taste and style. The warmth and familiarity of the place made him feel even more connected to Bucky.

Bucky led Steve to the living room, where they settled onto the plush leather couch. The soft drapes were half-drawn, casting a warm amber glow over the room. Steve's eyes lingered on the framed photo on the mantel before shifting back to Bucky.

"I love your place, Buck," Steve murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A shy smile spread across Bucky's face as he reached out for Steve's hand, tugging him towards the couch. Steve went willingly, his gaze dropping to meet Bucky's, their fingers intertwining in a silent understanding. Slowly, Steve's hand moved from Bucky's grip to gently cup his jaw, his thumb caressing the plump bottom lip of the brunette. Without hesitation, Bucky pushed Steve down onto the couch and straddled his lap, seeking permission with uncertain eyes.

"Is this okay?" Bucky asked, unsure of himself.

"It's more than okay," Steve rasped, his hands finding their way to Bucky's waist.

Bucky hummed with delight, his hands gently tracing Steve's chest's defined muscles. He leaned in, pressing his lips against Steve's as their bodies moved in perfect sync. Slowly, Steve's tongue slipped into Bucky's mouth, and a wave of desire washed over the brunette, causing him to melt into Steve's embrace. The kiss was passionate and intense, igniting every nerve in their bodies as they lost themselves in each other's touch.

The heated press of their bodies against each other sent a tingling shiver down Bucky's spine, causing him to roll his hips instinctively. His breath caught in his throat as he felt the impressive bulge of Steve's clothed erection against his bottom. The sensation was both exhilarating and overwhelming, sending a rush of desire coursing through Bucky's veins.

Steve's heart raced as their kiss deepened. The intoxicating chemistry between them was undeniable, and he was grateful for the opportunity to be with Bucky in this way. Bucky's hands continued to roam over Steve's body, drawing attention to the way they felt connected - their fingers intertwined, their hearts racing in unison.

Steve pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss but keeping Bucky's face in his hands. He looked into those deep blue eyes filled with raw emotion, and he knew that this was a moment he'd never forget.

"Bucky," he whispered, his heart pounding against his chest. "I want you more than I've ever wanted anything in my life."

Bucky's gaze mirrored his own, reflecting both his admiration and the fire that now burned within him. "I want you too," Bucky whispered, the words barely audible as he leaned in to kiss Steve once more.

Suddenly, Steve stood up, lifting Bucky effortlessly with him. Bucky let out a surprised squeak, his cheeks flushing a deep red, caught between embarrassment and arousal. The display of Steve's strength sent a shiver down his spine, intensifying his desire.

Steve's arms held him securely, their eyes locking for a brief, electric moment. "You okay?" Steve asked, his voice low and husky, a playful smile tugging at his lips.

Bucky bit his lip, nodding as he wrapped his legs tighter around Steve's waist. "Yeah," he whispered, his voice shaky with excitement. "More than okay."

Steve chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through Bucky. Their lips met again in a passionate kiss, the world outside disappearing as they surrendered to the heat between them. Bucky's fingers curled into the other man's thick blonde hair. The kiss was intense, their shared desire palpable in how their bodies pressed together.

"Bedroom?" Steve mumbled against Bucky's lips, his breath hot and urgent.

Bucky nipped at Steve's bottom lip, causing a low groan to escape from Steve. "Down the hall, second door on the left," he replied, quickly moving his lips to Steve's neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin.

Steve navigated through the apartment, Bucky's directions clear in his mind despite the haze of desire clouding his thoughts. He carried Bucky with ease, feeling the solid strength of Bucky's body against his own. Each kiss and touch sent shivers down his spine, urging him forward.

When they reached the bedroom, Steve pushed the door open with his shoulder, never breaking contact with Bucky. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow creating an intimate atmosphere.

Steve laid Bucky gently on the bed, his large hands roaming over Bucky's body, feeling the soft muscles beneath his shirt. Bucky's hands were equally busy, tugging at Steve's clothes, eager to feel the warmth of his skin. Their movements were hurried but careful, each action fueled by passion yet tempered with the thrill of newness.

"Off," Bucky whined, tugging at Steve's shirt buttons with impatient fingers. God, Steve, get this off," he groaned, his voice filled with frustration and desire.

Steve chuckled deeply, a sound that sent a thrill through Bucky. "Alright, alright," he rasped, his voice thick with amusement and arousal. Pulling himself up to his knees and hovering over Bucky, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt, tugged it off, and tossed it aside.

Bucky's eyes roamed hungrily over Steve's chest, taking in the defined muscles and the faint scars that marked his skin. "Sweet baby Jesus," Bucky whimpered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out to touch Steve, his fingers tracing the lines of his torso with reverence.

Steve's breath hitched at the contact, his skin tingling under Bucky's touch. He leaned down, capturing Bucky's lips in a searing kiss, their bodies pressing with newfound urgency. Bucky's hands moved to Steve's back, pulling him closer, needing to feel every inch of him.

As their kiss deepened, Steve's hands explored Bucky's body, pulling at his clothes until they, too, were discarded, leaving them both in their boxers. The heat between them grew, their desire a palpable force in the room. Every touch and kiss spoke of their longing and the connection they had found in each other.

As Steve pulled away from the kiss, his face flushed with desire, he looked into Bucky's eyes, searching for any sign of hesitation. But all he saw was a burning intensity that mirrored his own. Encouraged, Steve slowly started running his fingers over the tense muscles beneath the miles of olive skin. Bucky's breath hitched as Steve's touch sent shivers down his spine.

Bucky arched his back to allow Steve better access to his chest, their eyes locked in a silent plea for understanding. Steve's fingers traced the curve of Bucky's pectoral muscle, his mouth following suit as he kissed along the soft, defined ridges. Bucky moaned softly, his head falling back in pleasure.

Steve's lips traveled lower, teasing the trail of hair that led to Bucky's stomach. The brunette's gaze never left his lover's face. Bucky shivered at the sensation, his breathing growing more ragged with each touch. When Steve reached the waistband of Bucky's boxers, he looked up, hesitating for a moment before reaching into his boxers.

Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as Steve's fingers slid inside, his breath catching in his throat. Steve's fingers wrapped around Bucky's erection, gently stroking him. Bucky gasped, his eyes fluttering shut as he surrendered to the pleasure washing over him. Steve's lips curved into an absolutely murky smile as he watched Bucky's reaction.

"So responsive," Steve rumbled.

With a deliberate, intimate movement, Steve tugged the waistband of Bucky's underwear down, revealing his hardened length. Bucky's breath hitched as the cool apartment air brushed against his sensitive skin. Steve hummed, pleased, taking in the sight before him.

Steve traced the line of Bucky's hip bone with his finger, eliciting a soft moan from his lover.

"You're stunning, baby," Steve breathed, his voice rough with desire.

Bucky blinked, momentarily stunned by the words of praise. He looked down at Bucky, their eyes locking once more.

Taking a deep breath, Bucky reached down and removed his underwear completely, revealing himself to Steve, his body trembling with anticipation.

"I can't believe how beautiful you are," Steve murmured, his voice thick with lust.

As Bucky watched Steve's eyes devour him, he felt a surge of desire coursing through his veins. His heart pounded in his chest as he even began to crave more.

Steve leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Bucky's inner thigh, sending a shiver down his spine. Bucky let out a soft moan, his eyes closing as he surrendered to the pleasure.

Stevey's lips continued to trail upward, finally settling on Bucky's erection, which twitched in response to the gentle touch. Bucky's breath hitched as he felt Steve's warm breath wash over him, the sensation both erotic and intimate.

As Steve's mouth closed around him, Bucky's hands reflexively clenched in the cool devout, his back arching off the mattress as a deep, visceral moan escaped his lips. Steve's skilled tongue worked its magic, sending his body into overdrive as he sucked and licked, driving Bucky to the brink of madness.

Every nerve ending in Bucky's body seemed to be alight, allowing Steve to stoke the flames higher with each passing moment. Bucky's hips bucked, his body responding to Steve's ministrations with an intensity he never knew possible. His mind was a haze of pleasure, his body wracked with the most intense sensations he'd ever felt.

Steve popped off his cock with a lewd pop; he gently nudged Bucky's thighs to part further. He nuzzled Bucky's heavy sack on his further south.

"Steve.....oh...oooohhhh," Bucky gasped, feeling the blonde's tongue over his puckered hole.

Steve hummed, "Taste so good," he rasped, licking at Bucky's hole again.

Bucky's heart raced as Steve's tongue worked its way around his most sensitive area, sending shivers of pleasure through his body. He gasped and moaned, feeling alive and free in ways he never thought possible. For the next ten minutes, Steve explored every inch of Bucky's hole with a combination of licking, sucking, and teasing touches. It was like heaven and hell mixed together in a delicious frenzy. As Bucky surrendered to the intense sensations, he couldn't help but think that Mila would probably inscribe on his headstone that he was rimmed to death by a Greek god.

"Fuck," Bucky gasped when Steve finally pulled away from in now relaxed hole. He blindly reached over to his bedside table and grabbed the bottle of lube, shoving it toward Steve.

Steve chuckled softly, his hand deftly squeezing a dollop of slick lube onto his fingers. He traced them teasingly up and down the curve of Bucky's backside, leaving a trail of wetness in their wake. With expert precision, he gently pressed his ring finger against Bucky's tight entrance, watching in awe as it slowly opened up to welcome him inside. The sensation was like sinking into warm velvet, inviting and intoxicating all at once.

Bucky's breath hitched in his throat, a sharp gasp escaping his lips as the pleasure coursed through him. He was already so relaxed, thanks to Steve's skilled tongue working him over. Every nerve ending in his body felt alive and on fire.

"You're so tight," Steve murmured, his voice filled with admiration and desire. "I can't wait to be inside you." Bucky's heart pounded in his chest as Steve slowly worked a second finger into him, stretching him further. He moaned at the sensation, his body begging for more.

Steve continued to work his fingers in and out of Bucky's asshole with a rhythm designed to drive him wild, adding a third finger when he was confident that Bucky was ready. Bucky whimpered, his body writhing with pleasure as Steve stretched him even further.

"You ready for me, Buck?" Steve asked, his voice deep and hoarse.

Bucky nodded, his eyes wide with anticipation.

With a smug smirk, Steve pushed himself up onto his knees and discarded his boxer briefs to the side. His thick, curved cock was proudly on display, nestled in a thatch of neatly dark-trimmed hair. Bucky's eyes widened as he stared at it with desire and anticipation.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle at Bucky's reaction. "Oh, fuck me," Bucky mumbled, unable to tear his gaze away from Steve's impressive member.

"That's the plan," Steve replied with a playful grin, fully aware of the effect he was having on Bucky. The room was filled with the scent of arousal and the sound of their heavy breathing as they both anticipated what was about to happen.

Bucky reached down and guided Steve's cock to his entrance, feeling the fat head nudge at his sensitive opening. He gasped as Steve slowly pushed in, the fat head of his cock pushing against Bucky's hole, his girth stretching Bucky in ways he never thought possible. It was like being swallowed whole by a tempest of pure pleasure. Bucky's body trembled at the sensation, his heart rate increasing with every inch that Steve thrust inside him.

Steve's breath was ragged as he continued to push deeper, his fingers gripping Bucky's hips tightly. Bucky moaned softly, his own excitement growing with each passing moment.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Steve groaned, thrusting deeper into Bucky with each stroke. "Squeezing me so tight."

Bucky moaned, his body arching to meet Steve's thrusts. The sensation of being filled by Steve's thick hard cock was more intense than anything he'd ever experienced, and he couldn't get enough of it.

As Steve's hips pistoned between Bucky's legs, the room filled with the sound of their bodies slapping together, their breaths turning to ragged gasps and moans. His thick cock dragged along Bucky's deliciously wet and silky walls, rubbing against his prostate.

Steve's thrusts grew more forceful, his hips slapping against Bucky's ass with each powerful stroke. Bucky's eyes rolled back in his head as he felt the pleasure building within him as Steve's cock rubbed against his prostate,sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his body.

"Steve......Steve...." Bucky chanted as he teetered on the edge.

But Steve was not ready to let go quite yet. He paused, his cock buried deep within Bucky and reached a hand between their bodies. He found Bucky's erect cock and began to stroke it with steady, sure movements.

Bucky let out a low moan, his hips bucking against Steve's hand as the sensations grew more intense. Steve's other hand gripped Bucky's hip, pulling him closer with each stroke.

"You feel so good," Steve panted, his breath hot against Bucky's ear. "I want to feel you come around me."

Bucky's body trembled, the pleasure building to a crescendo within him. He could feel the intensity growing, the pressure mounting, and he knew that it wouldn't be long now.

Steve continued to stroke Bucky's cock, his movements slow and deliberate. As he did so, he began to thrust deeper within Bucky, his hips swiveling and grinding against him, sending shivers of pleasure through every inch of Bucky's body.

Bucky cried out, his body writhing in pleasure. Steve's cock continued to rub against his prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through Bucky's body.

Steve's thrusts grew more powerful with each passing moment, his cock dragging along Bucky's deliciously wet and silky walls. Bucky moaned loudly, his body trembling with each powerful thrust. The pleasure built up inside him, reaching a crescendo as Steve's cock continued to massage his prostate.

Arching his back beautifully, Bucky moans, "Steve—nnghh—fuck!"

"Oh fuck, baby—Bucky," Steve groaned, his thrusts growing frenzied as his climax drew nearer.

Bucky's heart raced, his body trembling with the intensity of the pleasure Steve was giving him. He reached back and grabbed onto Steve's hips, urging him deeper, harder.

"Oh, fuck Steve, I'm so close, don't stop," Bucky panted, his body arching with each powerful thrust.

Bucky could feel the orgasm building, his body tensing and his breaths growing shallow. The pleasure was overwhelming, and he knew that he was close. With every thrust, Steve's cock pushed against his prostate, sending jolts of pleasure through his body.

Steve's breathing became ragged as he continued to stroke Bucky's cock and plunge deep into his body.

Steve's eyes locked with Bucky's, his expression a mix of lust and adoration. He pulled out, leaving Bucky's wet entrance exposed. With one final, powerful thrust, Steve's cock buried itself deep within Bucky, the head of his cock rubbing against the highly sensitive spot inside Bucky. The sensation was too much for Bucky to bear, and he cried out in pleasure as he felt his orgasm take hold of him.

"Yes!" Bucky cried out, his entire body shaking as he came harder than he ever thought possible. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his orgasm seeming to go on and on. Thick ropes of milky white come erupted from his straining, pulsing, flushed cock, coating Steve's hand, his own stomach, and chest.

Steve continued to thrust inside Bucky as he came, his own pleasure building to a peak. The sight of Bucky's cum-covered body, the sound of their heavy breaths, and the slickness of their skin slapping together was almost more than Steve could bear.

Bucky felt Steve's hips bucking wildly against his, and he knew that his lover was about to join him in climax. With a grunt, Steve thrust deep inside Bucky one last time, and the sensation of Bucky's tight, hot walls milking his cock was more than Steve could bear.

He released Bucky's cock from his grip, and with one final, powerful thrust, Steve's cock erupted, filling Bucky's body with his own release. His orgasm hit him like a tornado, and he cried out Bucky's name as his cock spasmed inside him, releasing streams of his seed deep inside Bucky's body. The sensation of Steve's hot cum filling him made Bucky's orgasm even more intense, and he vibrated with pleasure, his body arching into Steve's.

As the last of their orgasms subsided, Steve slowly pulled out of Bucky, their bodies sticky and sated from the passion they'd just shared. They lay on the bed, panting, their bodies still joined in a post-coital embrace.

Steve leaned up on one elbow and brushed the sweaty hair from Bucky's forehead, smiling softly as he took in the sight of the man beneath him. "That was incredible," he whispered.

Bucky returned the smile, his eyes filled with satisfaction and happiness. "Yeah," he agreed, "it was."

As the two lay there, their breathing began to slow, and their bodies cooled. Bucky couldn't help but wonder if this was real. He had always been wary of emotions, afraid of them even, but there was something about Steve that made everything feel right.

Steve traced his fingers along Bucky's cheek, his touch gentle and tender. "I'm really glad I agreed to do that photo shoot," he said softly.

Bucky smiled, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at Steve's words. "Me too," he replied, his tone equally gentle. He closed his eyes, basking in the glow of the moment, feeling a sense of peace he hadn't known in a long time.

Suddenly, Bucky started to chuckle, the sound low and rich.

"What?" Steve asked, slightly confused but smiling nonetheless.

Bucky rolled onto his side and buried his face in Steve's chest, his laughter muffled. "Mila is going to be unbearable after she finds out about this," he said, his voice filled with amusement.

"If she finds out," Steve pointed out, though his tone suggested he knew it was inevitable.

Bucky looked up at the blonde, raising an eyebrow. "If?" he repeated skeptically.

Steve sighed, his smile widening. "You're right, she probably already knows."

Bucky laughed again, shaking his head. "She's got a sixth sense for these things. I bet she's already planning how to tease us both."

Steve pulled Bucky closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly. "Let her. I don't mind," he said, pressing a kiss to Bucky's forehead. "As long as I have you."

Bucky's heart swelled with affection, and he nuzzled closer, feeling the steady beat of Steve's heart against his cheek. "You've got me, Steve," he whispered. "For as long as you want."

Steve's arms tightened around Bucky, and they lay there in a comfortable silence, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

[aflowerdrops]

Jackson/ever.rot on twin cities metalcore/hardcore scenes, his photography’s technicalities, and more | Interview

Pictured here: ostraca

Photographers are crucial to music scenes, they’ve been important before the advent of and with social media. Last week I had the pleasure of talking to Jackson / ever.rot on Instagram - he’s taken pics of Sunami, Saetia, Jeromes dream, and loads more cool bands. He also does urban/landscape photography. In this interview he talks local music, and dives into the details of how he achieves different looks in his photos - something you’ll definitely find interesting whether or not you’re into photography. He has selected a set of 20 pictures that show the different kinds of pictures he takes, which are included in this article. Keep reading to check them all out! And make sure you follow him on Instagram!! 

Hi there, thank you so much for doing this with me! Introduce yourself to our readers please.

Hi!! My name is Jackson. I’m also @ever.rot on instagram, that’s where I post all my weird, fucked up photos if you’re into that kinda thing. :D

How did you get into live music photography, and photography in general?

I got into photography through a friend I made as I was beginning to get into the local twin cities beatdown hardcore/metalcore scene after moving to Minneapolis (thanks Brett!!). I recently did some exploring with a group of friends all over the rotting state of New Jersey and started documenting everything we found. I wanted to chase this eerie look in the photos I took that I was able to get with just my phone, and after a two and a half hour conversation Brett sent me spiraling down a photography rabbit hole. Since I was already going to shows nonstop at that point and I had friends in bands, it only felt natural to try out concert photography.

Can you talk about your relationship to your local music scene? Did you grow up in/around it? What would you say makes it different from other scenes?

I really didn’t grow up with live music, so I’ve only really been truly seeking it out for the last year and a half or so. Between college and visiting family I’ve been split between the hardcore/metalcore and screamo scenes in both NJ/NYC and twin cities, Minneapolis and St Paul. I’ve met so many incredible people so far, and I’m hoping to make more of an impact as I figure out what the fuck I’m doing with my camera and fingers crossed if I finally get one of these bands I’ve been planning with friends off the ground. 

How do you think photographers contribute or maybe give back to a music scene?

I think while we (me especially) might get in the way here and there and might be a little distracting if we all decide to show up at once and there’s like 10 of us for no reason, photographers at their best are great for immortalizing moments that lets a show live on past the night doors opened. Everyone remembers that one 1988 Fugazi show in Philly because there’s a shot of Guy Picciotto dangling from that basketball hoop. 

bulletsbetweentongues, opposition dolls, grimlitter

Granted, most shots aren’t that iconic. My hope is that, despite the fact I might miss some great moments due to how I take photos and a soul crushing skill issue, I might be able to make that dream of being in a band with all your friends feel a little more real–just with whatever artsy bullshit I’m doing on top.  

The way you capture your subjects is really beautiful. Something about it makes the pictures feel so lively. I find that the energy in your work is super unique. What’s going through your head while you’re taking pictures at shows?

Thank you so much! That’s so sweet!!

Since my photos are so dependent on lighting and I haven’t really relied on flash for concert photography to date, I first focus on how I want to change my white balance settings and how I over/underexpose my photos to best make use of the light I’m given. 

Then, I typically focus on positioning myself where I can best compose my subjects, get compelling angles, and potentially capture something between members of the band or between the band and the crowd. 

jerome's dream, saetia

Last, I try to capture moments. Given how many on-the-fly plans and adjustments go into preparing and lining up my shots, I often just have to get lucky or adjust super fast to get a picture of a big moment if it doesn’t happen exactly where I’m preparing to take a photo.

Doing all of that manually at a show where my subjects are moving and I’m getting kicked in the head is honestly very mentally taxing but god do I love the challenge. 

You also take really cool pictures of landscapes. Are most of these taken where you live/grew up, how would you say that inspires and affects your work? How would you describe the difference between your mindset taking pictures at shows and taking pictures of landscapes?

The few landscape shots I’ve done were all out of a window of a car moving about 70 mph through Wisconsin on two separate roadtrips with no real tie to my past. What motivated me to take them was simply how beautifully desolate the state looked that spring. That’s what separates my band photography from most of the other photography. Whenever I’m not in a music venue, I’m typically seeking rot and decay, in whatever form that may take. 

You told me you don’t edit your pictures. Some of them have an analog/film look to them while some look more modern but they’re all really fucking awesome! How do you achieve/switch between those styles, in the technical sense? Can you describe your overall process for taking pictures, maybe talk about the gear you use? Feel free to include as much detail as you want — I’m sure there’s plenty of people reading who are into photography!!

Thank you!!

I think what separates the analog vs. modern look to any photo is just how I use the lighting conditions at any given venue.

I use a Nikon D100, one of Nikon’s first DSLRs from 2002, which I specifically bought for its old, beautiful CCD sensor and its poor noise reduction. Definitely not because I could find one for $55 on eBay. I essentially wanted something with a relatively high max ISO so I could drown my photos in as much noise as possible, and to date almost all of my photos are taken that way.

I use two lenses. My general purpose is an f/2.8 28mm manual focus Nikkor AIS that some photography forum thread from 2008 told me is Nikon’s best wide angle lens. I trust them. It’s old, made of metal, looks pretty, and survived getting lost and kicked around a Harvest pit. The other is a lensbaby composer with an edge 80[mm] optic, a tilt-shift lens that allows me to selectively focus on other things in frame that aren’t directly in the center of my viewfinder.

I manually adjust my shutter speed and aperture, and I manually focus, so I’ve got all the control to either succeed and capture something sick or fail and end up with an underexposed, out of focus mess. Lots of the latter. 

raein, sunami

As you said, I don’t edit any of my shots (besides adding white borders to fit an aspect ratio) so the appearance of a photo is influenced by choices made before and during the shot. 

As for my process, any band photography I do is reliant on the lighting at the venue I’m shooting at. I’ll typically start by trying to figure out how much I want to under/overexpose my photos, and adjust as needed throughout each set. I don’t use a light meter. Next, I’ll start looking for angles I find compelling. Throughout a show I’m constantly referencing the photos I’ve just taken on my little LCD screen for hints as to what I need to adjust to give me the best chance of getting a usable photo; that probably separates my process of taking photos from shooting film the most. At the moment, I tend to lean towards portraiture but in the future I’m trying to make an effort to capture more of the energy of the room.

(left to right) herlovebeheadsdaisies, knumears, my buddy eric, bloom dream, whenthedustsettles, datura dread, flooding, eyelet, newfound interest in connecticut

Thank you once again for doing this with me! I’m really excited to post this and showcase your work. Are there any projects (etc.) of yours that you wanna promote? And/or if you’re available for work (live show photography for example) feel free to mention that here.

Thank you for taking the time to put a spotlight on my work! At the moment, aside from whatever I end up posting on instagram, I don’t have any other projects to promote. As for work, I’m just an amateur photographer fucking around with a camera. If you like my work and want me to flick you up, dm or email me!! I’d love a photo pass at events.

Follow Jackson on Instagram - @ever.rot 

Written by Mio | aflowerdrdops. Follow us on Instagram and turn on notifs so you don’t miss an update! 

[merrock]

event: Creek Fest

location: Hideaway Market

date & time: September 21-28; 10AM - 10PM

ooc duration: same times!

It's that time of year again -- Creek Fest! The tents and booths are all set up, the tractors full of hay and ready to cart you around, and we here in Merrock and at Hideaway Market are ready to welcome in fall the best way that we know how! Big to note: both the Merrock Community College and Merrock School District have decided to close on Thursday (September 26th) and Friday (September 27th) to give families more time to enjoy the event.

All of Hideaway Market is open for the week, with many of the shops and businesses offering specials and sales if you stop in. Some even have refreshments or gifts for the kids! All around the market place, you will find food and drink tents and booths and tents full of local goodies brought out by our own Merrockites. Plenty to eat and drink, and lots of shopping to be done!

For the kids, we recommend checking out the corn pit, participating in the scavenger hunt, getting their faces painted (adults are welcome, too!), jumping in on a game of corn hole, or taking a walk over to The Meadows, where a number of 'sports stations' have been set up for kids and adults alike who want to play.

For the adults (or kids looking to do something more mature), we have plenty of things for you to get involved in. You can paint or carve your own pumpkins, stuff your own scarecrows, make wreaths and flower arrangements, decorate fall themed t-shirts or paint your own ceramics! Lavender Lane has also opened their seasonal operation, where they will be selling mums, pumpkins and various other fall flowers and plants.

The tractor will be available to take people to Harmony Ranch where you can jump into the corn maze or sunflower maze, buy your dairy products and fresh produce, or visit the petting zoo and pony rides! You can also take a tractor to Sunrise Orchard to pick all of the apples that your heart can ever want.

And of course, the name sake of Creek Fest -- Black Creek's walking trails have been freshened up and marked, so you can take a hike with your honey to see the falls, or maybe get your photos taken by one of our local photographers at one of the more scenic spots. We are also selling t-shirts, mugs, bags and more 'souvenir style' gifts at the Historical Society booth, with proceeds going towards the conservation and upkeep of our beautiful creek. If you need help while wandering the grounds, stop by the Community Center tent.

UNDER THE CUT you will find all of the local Merrockites participating in Creek Fest, whether they are selling goods, or showing off a talent, as well as a list of performances through the week. Enjoy! xx

BOOTHS / BUSINESSES / DISPLAYS:

Art Sale (Ryder Anderson)

Bardales Inc.

BeadsByJay

Creekside Carpentry & Construction

Harmony Healers

Ojīchan no sushi reshipi

Taste

Newman Family Farm

Universal Rocks

Cyanotopes (Greyson McVey)

Bonne Merde

PERFORMANCES:

Saturday, September 21: country bluegrass band.

Sunday, September 22: Stelly Carter.

Monday, September 23: Chetan Gupta.

Tuesday, September 24: Jamie & Sylvia.

Wednesday, September 25: Unknown Destination.

Thursday, September 26: Cordelia Browning.

Friday, September 27: Monique O'Connor.

Saturday, September 28: local cover band.

ADMIN NOTE: if you would like your business to be represented, or your character to be involved, all that you have to do is post something to show what they're offering. This does not need to be a big, elaborate post! It can be something as simple as an eye-catching photo of a leaf with a description of what you're doing. I will reblog your post + add it to the list here. I have also left open two spots on the performances that can be filled if you are interested, but you must send an ask to claim them. Again, however you represent your performance is up to you! Thanks, guys! xx

[spontaneousmusicalnumber]

I FOUND IT

I FOUND ONE OF THE WORST PHOTOS TAKEN OF ME

Some backstory: I'm about to graduate college. My crappy internship made me get a terrible haircut to remove all the dye from my hair. I'm stressed and busy and cheap and the last thing on my budget list is a professional photographer to get some nice looking grad photos.

Lucky me, the honors building has me covered! They brought in a photographer to get us soon-to-be grads a free picture for our upcoming professional needs. I wore my only somewhat formal professional outfit (in this field, a plaid button-up usually makes you overdresed) and headed over.

I don't know a lot about posing but this photographer has me covered. They were very specific in their directions. Turn your head juuust a bit that way, tilt a little, a little less than that, perfect! They snapped a picture and took down my email and a week later sent me a professionally edited photo.

Guys.

It. SUCKED.

They found the perfect combination of expression, pose, and lighting to erase my chin and jawline. They found out how to make my new haircut look as terrible as possible. I look like I'm 60. I look like a middle schooler dressing up for mock trial who's going to go right down to the bingo hall afterwards. I look like a retirement announcement.

Here's a selfie I took before I left. I felt pretty good about the look I pulled together.

And here's the image I got back.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Dandelions - Ruth B.

Peter Parker x reader

Thank you, @manyfandomsfanvergent 💜 This story came to me almost instantly. Hope you like it !!

Forever in Your Eyes

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Dandelions

Pairing: (AG) Peter Parker x reader (no pronouns used)

Words: ~1500

CWs: minor swearing, mentions of Gwen’s death, some kissing

Sunset light bathes the battered desks and vinyl floors of the art studio, discussions of weekend plans and new movies hums lowly through the room; Thursday night classes had that effect on everyone, but especially those with no classes on Friday.

Those like Peter Parker - who’d only made the Friday Class Mistake once so far in his college career. The young college student, and part time masked vigilante, slides into an empty plastic chair just as the tutor enters the room.

“Portraits!” The tutor, a vibrant bespectacled man named Robin, reminds everyone of the plan for the class as he takes attendance in his head. There were only about sixteen people in this time slot so it’s an easy task.

“Your assignment was to find some portraiture you really connected with, take it apart, make it your own, I don’t need to remind you guys,” he waves a hand as a shrug. “Let’s jump in so we can all get on with our weekend. Who wants to go first for crits?”

The girl sitting next to Peter, an eager beaver named Marie, puts her hand up to have her work picked apart. And so it begins.

Person after person shares their screen to the projector and explains why they chose their setting, the subject, the colouring, why it was edited the way it was. Peter ends up being last, and he’s feeling pretty good about the photos he’d taken of you.

He’d had to bribe you, of course. Because you hated being in front of a camera but not more than you loved a burger from that place just outside of town - the place near a secret patch of wildflowers that Peter wanted to capture you in.

He’d been careful to make sure the flowers treated carefully and with respect. Then, he’d done the same with his camera-shy best friend.

You’d needed a lot more reassurance than the flowers had.

“I’m doing a terrible job.”

“No, you’re doing great,” Peter encouraged as he peaked out from behind the lens. “Tilt your head a little to the left, just a- perfect.” He snapped a few more shots before seeing you subtly squirm and draw in an uncomfortable breath. He lowered the camera and caught you in a gentle, level stare. “Hey. Just look at me.”

“You’re not the problem,” you argued and crossed your arms over yourself, “It’s that thing in your hand.”

He grinned at you. “Don’t look at the thing in my hand.” He saw you take another shaky breath in before you met his eye with an intense vulnerability.

“Yeah,” his smile softened, he pointed and clicked as he kept your focus on him. “Just keep looking at me…”

The photos turned out great, and it’s his turn to have his work critiqued.

He clicks a few keys, types in the screen-sharing code, and your face fills the large screen at the front of the room.

It’s an objectively beautiful photo of you. The colours of the earth and the flowers bring out that sparkle in your eye that Peter’s come to know as the starlight that appears when you’re laughing, or thinking of something cheeky to say in response, when you’re truly at ease and happy where you are. Your expression says peace. The flowers around you bring out something wild in your soft smile. Your stare is just above the lens, fixed on Peter.

Before he can explain why he chose this field, why he chose his best friend, Robin makes a noise of approval and turns to the class.

“Okay guys, see now this is the advantage of doing portraits with a romantic partner- with someone you have a real connection with. See that depth in the subject’s eyes, and see where the eyes are fixed? On the photographer, right? Now, that’s something that can’t be faked.”

The sun had set. The room has darkened. But Peter is caught too off-guard to worry if anyone can see the way his cheeks were burning, or the way his drying mouth was hanging open. But you don’t feel the sa-

“The trick, Peter, is going to be figuring out how you can pull this from other subjects going forward,” Robin throws the words out so nonchalantly, painfully oblivious to the way his student’s head is spinning. “Now let’s take a look at the setting.”

The rest of the feedback is a ghost to Peter. It drifts by, vacant, untouchable, warping time and reality. All he can think of is you and that look in your eyes. How long had you looked at him like that without him noticing?

Or, more accurately, how long did he notice but not really know what it meant?

Needless to say, he broke land speed records sprinting out of the building the second class ended, and ripping his skateboard down the sidewalk towards your apartment just off-campus.

Oblivious to Peter’s crisis, you pick up a fork and make your way to the fuzzy blankets calling your name. Your roommates were out and it was the perfect night for Doordash and a marathon of that show you’d been wanting to see. You settle onto the couch, ready to press play, when you hear a frantic knock at your front door and Peter shouting your name through it.

“I know you’re in there!” He yells, still pounding. You lower your brow and practically vault over the couch trying to get to the door before he breaks it down with his fist.

“I’m coming! Jeez, Pete!” You yell back right before your fingers flip the deadbolt and you pull the door inwards. “What the hell’s the matter with y-”

“How long?” He demands, waging a glare so intense you suddenly feel like you’ve done something super wrong. Your mouth falls slack as Peter brushes past you to enter your apartment.

It takes you a moment to recover, to try and put together what the hell he was on about, and by the time you realise that he’s out of line coming in here with vague accusations, so you close the door and turn to face him, you’re met with the sight of his open laptop screen on your kitchen counter.

It’s a photo of you, from the wildflower fields. Something deep in you wants to internally cringe but… it looks real. Honest.

When you meet Peter’s eye, he looks the same way. Except there’s something desperate in his gaze.

“How long?” He repeated, breathless and wanting.

You open your mouth to respond and quickly realise you don’t know how to. Thankfully, Peter fills in the blanks.

“How long have you been in love with me?”

It’s a punch to the gut. That question. It sucks every bit of air from your lungs, from your throat, tears spring to your eyes and you don’t really know why. Maybe because it’s so out of left-field and you have no time for any other reaction. Maybe because of the despairing way he was looking at you, and you had no idea why he’d be doing this.

“Peter, please,” you choked out. It was useless to lie to him. “I’ve never expected anything more from you, I’m happy with-”

He takes a step forward. “How long?”

You cover your eyes with the heels of your palms and sniff in a cry. “I don’t know. A while, I guess.”

You feel him take another step towards you and you’re sure you’re done for. He’s going to step around you and walk out and never come back and-

“We’ve wasted so much time,” his gentle whisper comes. His touch comes too, weaving through your own, tugging your palms from your eyes just far enough for him to place his hands, cradling either side of your face.

You brave meeting his eye, and… peace.

Your shoulders release their tension, your jaw unclenches, your hands find rest around his wrists. In a feeble attempt to explain, you mumble, “I didn’t know if you were ready.”

The metaphysical mention of Gwen sends a bolt of grief through Peter’s heart. But it’s a grief he’s grown to greet like a friend; one that will always be with him, one that wants him to grow.

His thumb traces the warm blush on your cheekbones, wiping away a tear in the process. He didn’t do this right. He should’ve done this better but the pain and recognition and the want all melded into one and-

He stops overthinking and doesn’t waste any more time.

Peter ducks his head and kisses you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Like he already knows the contours of your skin, like he’s memorised the steady beckoning in your breath.

He’s a welcoming home. Under his hands, you find a refuge. When he steps into you, closing the space between your bodies, the heat of him is an all-encompassing embrace. You kiss him like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times before. It feels so right. The taste of forever is sweeter than any time you’d ever dreamed of it.

Because this time it’s real.

[schrijverr]

A Sit Down with Jonathan and Nancy Byers about their Book: A Collection of Queer Photography

The title kind of speaks for itself, it's an interview with Jonathan and Nancy about the book after its release.

On AO3.

Ships: jargancy and steddie mentioned

Warnings: talks about racism, ableism, homophobia, positive use of f-slur and d-slur

~~~~~~~~

After being released, the book filled with Jonathan Byers’ photography and featuring writing by his partner Nancy Byers about the lives and queerness of their family of choice between 1986 and 1994, has taken off. Today I sit down and have a chat with them about the reactions to and content of the book.

This book has gotten a lot of attention, did either of you expect that?

JB: I didn’t. I have had some exhibitions in the past and I’ve been hired to shoot plenty of celebrities, but I’m not a big name outside the industry. It was quite a shock to see how many people talked about it. Pleasant, but still.

NB: I agree with Jon. We certainly hoped it would reach the people we wanted it to reach, but we were very realistic in our expectations. I hadn’t written anything big outside of journalism, so it was new for me entirely. To have this success is crazy and surprising. We’re both very grateful for it.

Since it was such a new thing for you, how did you go about it?

NB: I think it was more new for me, since Jon has published some of his other work too. He has been a great help. Everyone has, really.

JB: It was a very collective process in the end. I’ve been wanting to make this book for a long while now, so when we finally got the go ahead we called everyone together to gather stories they wanted to put in it as well. That helped a lot in creating a clear narrative in the end.

You say you’ve been wanting to do this for a long time, how long? How did this idea start?

JB: In 1990 after Nancy had been arrested along with Steve and Eddie. It was just so wrong for them to have been arrested in the first place, everyone was so angry. I took their photo just so we’d all could know how bad it had been, that we didn’t make it up.

I remember wanting to show someone, anyone, to make them look and see it, but we really couldn’t. We were still in college and such things were professional suicide. So, I kept those photos to myself and it became a thing, you know, to record us as we were despite it all. It was also a bit hopeful, I’ll admit. I kept taking the photographs with the mindset that one day, I could show them, that it would get better than it was.

NB: He never really mentioned it at the time, but he did have his camera with him even more often than before. I think that if you look in the book, there are more images after 1990 than before.

That must have been hard at the time. A lot of people mostly know that time as very homophobic. Was that difficult when choosing what to put in the book? Are there things you left out because they were too personal or too much?

NB: We had a lot of talks about what to put in and what to leave out. A lot of the stories we tell are really personal and it is very public. We tried not to leave out the hard parts, we didn’t want to pretend like those times weren’t rough, but certain things people said no to sharing and we obviously respect that.

JB: Yeah, it is collaborative, but it is about private lives. Argyle, for example, got arrested a few times for being a man of color existing, while he gave us permission to share that here, he didn’t want photos of it in the book. Of course, we’re not going to do that.

NB: Exactly. We didn’t say a lot about race, which is obviously such a big point too and we didn’t touch too much on Max’s disability or recovery. We try to be educated about it, but we can’t properly put it into words and those topics can be very sensitive. Since we would have done them a disservice we left them out at points. In hindsight, I don’t know if that was the best move to make, since we don’t want to ignore that it exists, but it is the choice that we made.

Very understandable. You mention a lot that it was a collaborative project, how did that work, since the book is credited to just the two of you?

JB: It was actually quite fun. The book was a great reason to bring everyone together again and reminisce. Me and Nance did most of the work. It is primarily my photography, but we went around to everyone and asked them if they had any photos they would like to see in there or any stories or moments they wanted to tell.

NB: We were mostly editors and writers in the end. I kind of interviewed everyone about those years. And we of course made a list of everything that wasn’t going in the book.

There are indeed a few photographs not made by you, Jonathan. Any comments on that?

JB: I think without them the story wouldn’t be complete, you know. Yeah, it is a book of my photography and we used my name, since I am well known in the industry, but we weren’t telling my story, we were telling our story. As much as it would be cool, I can’t be everywhere all the time and there are certain moments that are important, but I wasn’t a part of.

NB: Plus, I really wanted Jon to be in there as well. He might be more comfortable behind the camera than in front of it, but he is part of our family, not just a witness to it.

That is a beautiful way of looking at it. As you mentioned, it is your story. Did you get any reactions of people that weren’t a part of it or people you know? Anything unexpected?

NB: Uhm, yeah, I- I got a letter from Holly, my little sister. She wrote to Mike and I. Neither of us saw that coming, but it was so nice to hear from her. We hadn’t seen her since she was nine and now she is all grown up, married and kids, the whole picket fence. She is a great mom, honestly and I am sad I didn’t get to see her grow into the strong woman she is today, but I am glad I get to know her now.

Oh wow, that sounds very special. Did she reach out because of the book?

NB: She did, yeah, and it was very special. She saw it in the store and got it. It was kind of crazy to hear from her. I never dreamed something like this could happen, but it did.

And you, Jonathan, any people reaching out unexpectedly?

JB: Not really, haha. Just the usual congrats on the project. Though, it’s success has enabled us to work together with the Trevor Project, which was very exciting. 40% of the proceeds go to them. But beyond that, I think the most unexpected thing to come out of it next to contact with Holly is that Corroded Coffin has gotten a resurgence in popularity.

Eddie Munson is quite a big part of the book. Was that ever an issue, since he has been private in the past?

JB: Eddie hasn’t been private a day in his life, honestly.

NB: Jonathan!

JB: What, it’s true. He’s been singing about Steve’s dick on stage for decades now, the only reason he has ever kept those things about himself a secret is because he liked his career too much. So, no, Eddie is always fun to work with and he was a great sport about the project. He called up all the others to ask for pictures from that time we could use. It was quite funny to get them all. There are so many more of him on the phone with Steve that didn’t make it into the book.

NB: That is true. Eddie is pretty open about a lot of things and he has always been very passionate about being yourself and showing that it’s okay to be different and out there. He was thrilled to be part of this.

I think we were more careful about what we put in about Erica. She hasn’t done anything that is unlawful, but certain people have opinions that will always be more harsh when directed to a black woman. She has worked very hard to be where she is and to be taken serious in that function, the last thing we wanted to do is undermine that.

A lot of critics of the book have said that it promotes crime. Do you have any comment on that?

NB: It’s utter nonsense, honestly. There are some photos that can be said to contain crime, but people must understand the context of those. We would never want to promote harming another person, we just wanted to show that protest and opposing the government and their policies goes hand in hand with doing certain things. As much as I would love for it to be true, you don’t change people’s mind by staying in the lines they drew.

JB: I agree, I think people just want to be mad about something and they know they’ll be called out if they say they dislike it because of the rest of the content.

That could be. Have you received any hate after publishing the book?

JB: I think that’s pretty much unavoidable at this point. I try not to get involved with all the noise on social media.

NB: It’s part of it, but it’s good to focus on the positive reactions too. However, as you might have seen, I have become more active on twitter ever since it came out, since a lot of people will just say stuff that’s completely incorrect. It’s a lot of people from my generation, who still haven’t dealt with their biases, but it’s a scary amount of young people too. Like, truly kids, who have no idea what it was like.

They’ll point at the photos of pride and say we’re promoting unsafe sex and violence, like the whole kink at pride debate isn’t bullshit. BDSM is a big part of the queer community and they don’t have to like it or engage with it, but they were branded as deviants just like us and a lot of queer people are also into kink. I’d rather have a straight dominatrix next to me on the front lines than a young queer kid, who thinks it’s bad to identify as a dyke or a fag.

And even from our own community we’ve been getting some backlash for being polyamorous. It’s like they don’t hear themselves when they speak. I think the book shows that it was very much not the same as cheating and we clearly love each other very much. But people will always have their own opinions, no matter how much it sucks. So, I try to focus on those who tell me that we changed their minds about it.

Did you change a lot of minds? Or other positive reactions?

JB: I think we have, yes. I’ve gotten quite a few message of people thanking me for all the photos I took, how it made them feel better about their own sexuality and feel less alone. It’s amazing to see and it makes me very happy to see and hear. I still remember how alone I felt when I realized who I was and how alone Will always seemed to be. And how good it felt to finally say it and be accepted for it. Especially when more and more people in our friend group also came out.

NB: Exactly that. Growing up queer can make you feel very alone and odd. I never realized it about myself until I was seventeen? Eighteen? But looking back there have always been moments where I felt out of place and odd. It’s one of the reasons I love pride so much, because it makes you feel like you are part of something. To be able to be that for others is amazing. I try to reply to as many of those comments as I can. They deserve the attention more than those who are purposefully ignorant.

That is lovely to hear. Thank you so much for taking the time to answer my questions. Do you have anything you want to say about the book or reactions to it that you haven’t yet?

JB: Thank you for interviewing us. I think I have said what I wanted to say. The book speaks for itself in a lot of ways. I just want to thank everyone who read it for supporting us and reading our story.

NB: Yes, thank you. Of course, I also want to thank anyone who has read the book, it’s been an honor to share it with you all.

[longlistshort]

“Bryson Funmaker”, 2020, Inkjet print and beadwork

The Museum of Fine Arts St. Petersburg is currently showing an impressive collection of work from photographer Tom Jones. The photos, in multiple series, focus on Native American identity, history, cultural appropriation, and the Ho-Chunk Nation of Wisconsin, of which Jones is a member. The work engages visually while also being informative.

From the museum’s press release for Tom Jones: Here We Stand–

For over twenty years, Tom Jones has created a visual record and exploration of his Ho-Chunk community. Born in North Carolina and raised in Orlando after a short stint in Minneapolis, Jones returned to the Midwest, moving to Wisconsin at age 15. He then made his way to Chicago for graduate school at Columbia College. Jones’s father worked with Kodak and owned a photography lab, helping shape the artist’s understanding of the practical aspects of photography from an early age. During graduate school, Jones began an ongoing photographic essay on the contemporary life of his Ho-Chunk community, beginning first with the elders.

The show comprises over a dozen series, ranging from the documentary to the conceptual. Of his series on Veterans’ memorials at the annual Black River Falls Pow-Wow, Jones says, “I was interested in the way families made very conscious decisions about how they want their loved ones memorialized.” Other series include the emotionally intimate, though larger than life, beaded portraits. “Beading is a metaphor for our ancestors watching over us. I am also referencing an experience I had when I was about 8 or 9 years old. My mother took me to see a Sioux medicine man named Robert Stead. He led the call to the spirits, the women began to sing, and the ancestors appeared as orbs of light. This event inspired the series Strong Unrelenting Spirits.“

Jones’s photographs examine identity and geographic place with an emphasis on the experience of Native American communities. He is interested in how American Indian material culture is portrayed through commodification and popular culture. Much of his work counteracts and corrects decades of misinformation and misrepresentation of American Indians, particularly targeting the field of U.S. history. Jones’s critical assessment of the romanticized representation of Native peoples in photography re-examines historic pictures taken by white photographers. This reassessment questions the assumptions about identity within the American Indian culture by non-natives and natives alike. “While each of Jones’s series is distinctly different, the message remains consistent: the Ho-Chunk are not vanishing or frozen in time,” said Dr. Jane Aspinwall, Senior Curator of Photography. “Jones’s photographs emphasize a solid, generational commitment to family, tribal community, and land. His photographs reclaim appropriated images and set the historical record straight.”

Below are some selections from a few of the series in the exhibition.

"Trenton and Roger Littlegeorge", 2011

"Dorothy Crowfeather", 1999

"Dear America" series

About the Dear America series pictured above-

Using each line from the first two verses of the song, America ("My Country Tis of Thee") as the title of fourteen of the works in the Dear America series, Jones questions whose history is being propagated here. With dry wit and an unfailing commitment to truth, Jones exposes atrocities like the massive effort by the U.S. government to assimilate Native American children to non-Native culture, the merciless seizing of Native lands, and the mass hanging of thirty-eight Sioux and Ho-Chunk men under President Lincoln in 1862. He also highlights Native American identity in relation to cowboy culture, the thoughtless misappropriation of Native American customs, and the influence of the Iroquois Confederacy on the U. S. Constitution. Jones's aim is to broaden the "traditional" historical American narrative to be more representative of all people, especially the original inhabitants of this land.

About the Ho-Chunk Veterans Memorials, pictured above-

“I wanted to do this photographic essay to honor our veterans… One in four American Indian males is a United States veteran. Ho-Chunks have fought in every war for the United States except for the War of 1812. The Ho-Chunks did this even though they were not granted the right to vote until 1924, and during the Indian Removal Act, were removed at least seven times from Wisconsin by the United States government. This is the conviction we have as a people… I honor these people who give of themselves freely to protect this land. Traditionally, Ho-Chunks are taught to live their lives for the betterment of others. The veterans have done this.’ -Tom Jones

About the “Native” Commodity” series (pictured above)-

The Wisconsin Dells, one of the most popular tourist destinations in the state, is home to spectacular natural scenery and the largest concentration of waterparks. Located on Ho-Chunk ancestral land, the area is now highly commercialized, with much of its identity resting on the appropriation of Native American stereotypical tropes. In this series, Jones documented this unabashed use of Native American symbols, images, and place names in advertising and popular culture. The sale of “Native American” crafts made in China, the liberal use of names of historically important figures like Black Hawk, and the indiscriminate mix of tribal communities into one conglomerate-tipis from the Plains next to totem poles from the Pacific Northwest next to Pueblo pottery. The Dells serve as a microcosm for how images of Native Americans are reproduced and reframed into a collective memory that is often distorted. Jones wryly noted that none of the Native American objects feature anything specifically attributable to the Ho-Chunk Nation.

This exhibition has been extended until 9/10/23.

[aercascade]

Tented Market - Scrapbook

These are some more rougher photos, taken of the Tented Market before it's closure on the 31st of August 2017.

On a beautiful sunny day in 2017 I decided to visit the Tented Market for 1 last time before it's closure.

It had a special place in my heart as when I was a young child I remember my parents taking me here, it was a different time back then. The Tented Market was alive and well. The thriving market was a bastion for local businesses.

The pristine white roofs were well kept, bright and followed a theme of the town centre. It wasn't the only place to feature such decor, but over time it had been changed.

As the town of swindon grew, the Tented Market remained much the same. It was home to great local businesses but they could not survive against the competitors.

The council invested more into the Brunel Centre, and times changed; the local stores within this once welcoming structure could no longer compete. It was a time capsule still standing but barely.

Even outwardly, they had to remind people the place was still open. Signs were plastered all over the building. An attempt to save the doomed building.

It was clear that those left in this place still actively loved and appreciated the Tented Market. Unfortunately. It did little to save it.

What used to be a grand entrance to the Tented market, had nothing to advertise itself as a bustling store. It's no wonder they needed signs to remind the passersby that the place was still open.

At the staircase to one of the main entrances. It was so neglected, not even the typical unsavoury type had any desire to loiter here. It was that empty.

The placard sign commemorated the market being open for a grand total of 22 years. It's one reason why the closure of the Tented Market hit me.

There are definitely older shopping centres in Swindon. Though that's discrediting what the Tented Market was before this was built in 1994.

Obviously, this was well before my time. I have no photographs of the Tented Market in any other state.

Unfortunately I took 1 photograph of the Tented Market map. I wish I took more photographs of the Tented Market, but 2017 “me” was a bit more afraid of taking pictures inside businesses.

This map wasn't even accurate, there are more businesses that were on there than there should be. Ouch.

In one of the many empty shop spaces I saw a "SAVE OUR TENT MARKET" poster. One of many attempts to spare the market from closure.

Left, you can see the remains of the comic shop. On the right I can't remember what it was. At the only used entrance you could see 2 of the last remaining shops in the Tented Market.

In 2013 when I was still attending college I visited this place for lunch. At this time it was clearly on its way out but the Tented Market had it's share of visitors.

You could walk in here and smell the exotic food. I can say it was pretty good. At the time of this photo, it was nothing. Just an empty stall and a reminder of what was lost.

They still kept the bench and chair used by the very few customers who would wait for their order... yes. When I was at college it was the very chair I sat on waiting for my chicken wrap. Nothing had changed in that time.

It was still advertising the same menu available in 2013, Eggelicious was only a recent move. Setting sights on a new offering opening up in the Brunel Centre...

The Brunel Centre in this year (2017) was undergoing a drastic renovation to one of the interior corridors. They opened it up into a designated food hall. It seemed at this time Eggelicious decided to finally abandon the Tented Market and instead opt for the much newer food court instead.

Included is the photograph of them building the escalator to the new food hall still in progress.

I found some stickers that had accumulated on the door, A time capsule. Including a sticker that read "Never Trust a Hipster"

Here is a collection of empty doors, empty stores. Much appears the same.

For a time I can remember there existing an American Candy store. I can't say I'm surprised they didn't take off. The drink I had was so sugary and expensive... I'll stick to European snacks I think.

They still tried to get people on board. I hadn't taken note of what that sign said until today... I mean if they're still offering up a commercial space for £20 a week. I'd be down to set up a photography shop.

That's not half bad... if you ignore the fact this place is dead. Also not opening ever again.



That is the end of the Tented Market. There are whispers here and there of redevelopment. Like much of Swindon it's destined to become something else.

Something mid. That is.

That isn't all I have to show of Swindon. There are far more parts of the it to be documented!

~ Aercascade

[k00288398]

TUESDAY'S WORKSHOP /17.01.23/

PHOTOGRAPHY MOVING IMAGE

Digital Camera workshop on Tuesday with Deborah was very informative. In the first part, we did a little exercise. Our task was to follow the basic rules of photography to take at least 10 photographs and connect 5 of them with a common semantic load. Pictures can be taken with a phone or camera. Some of the things to consider were: focus on the shape/line; texture; only items; change angle; work in one place. Here is my result.

Then we were familiarised with the various settings on a digital camera and the photos using these settings. Then we went around the college in groups to learn how to use these settings.

I will definitely return to photography - I really want to learn a lot, I need practice and it gives me great pleasure.

[ausetkmt]

NEWCOMB — Back in 2004, a mysterious collection of photos anonymously appeared at the Adirondack Experience, a museum in Blue Mountain Lake. They were taken in 1932 and show a dead, Black man tied to a toboggan surrounded by three white men.

Doreen Alessi-Holmes, the museum’s collections manager, said she was speechless when she first saw the photos.

“It’s very troubling to look at the propped up corpse of a human and people just sort of standing around like ‘yeah, sure, take our photo with this trophy,’ and I don’t know that that’s what they were thinking, but that is how it plays today when you look at those photographs,” said Alessi-Holmes.

Now the museum is trying to unravel the mystery behind those photos and is partnering with a Black artist to bear witness to what really happened back in 1932.

Alessi-Holmes helped determine the general location where the Black man was killed, a place that can be accessed by an old logging road in the central Adirondacks near Newcomb.

On a warm, late summer day, Alessi-Holmes and her husband Shane Holmes, a licensed outdoor guide and IT specialist for the Adirondack Experience, led artist Keith Morris Washington down the logging road.

Washington is an artist and professor at the Massachusetts College of Art and Design whose work includes landscape paintings and portraits. More recently, Washington’s work has explored Black identity in America, using art to highlight the violence that Black people have faced over the centuries.

For one project, titled “Within our Gates,” Washington paints landscapes of lynching sites around the US. It’s what brought him here, to the Adirondacks.

“For me, part of this is to go to the places to bear witness, because it really is, for me, about honoring the memories of the victims,” said Washington.

In this case, the victim was a Black man who encountered two white men in these woods in March 1932. According to historical records, they went their separate ways, but the two men reported the Black man to the police. A few days later a larger group tracked him down, a gunfight ensued, and the Black man was killed.

As Alessi-Holmes walked down the logging road, she pointed out features in the landscape, obstacles the man must have had to endure while he was being tracked down by the group of white men.

“As we’re moving forward keep your eyes on that ridge ahead of us because that is the Dunbrook Range and it’s an intimidatingly high and steep mountain and I just can’t imagine climbing up over that in the winter.”

[image4:right:50%]Washington will paint this landscape, but not the violence that occurred here. His pieces focus more on the natural features of the place, the beautiful and sublime aspects of it. He uses a series of “squiggle marks” to paint lush green grasses, tall trees, and wispy, blue skies.

His artistic process is more a tribute to life than to death. “Even when I’m painting, I’m not thinking about the tragic nature of the person’s life,” said Washington, “but really trying to think about the ways in which I’m honoring the person’s life and documenting their history.”

Another person who’s been working to document the history of what happened in these woods is Eliza Jane Darling, an anthropology professor and former public historian for Hamilton County.

“This is the history of our region and we need to understand what happened and we certainly need to establish facts,” said Darling, “but in the second place, I think there is a question of social justice and justice for this man.”

Darling has poured over the police and coroner’s reports, piecing together what really happened over those few days in March. She’s also read articles about the manhunt and the man’s death, which made national news at the time.

Darling said the sensationalized media back then is similar to the racist stereotypes Black people still face to this day.

“The headlines that this made could have been taken from today’s headlines, they really could have,” said Darling. “You know, the over-estimation of the man’s threat, the dehumanization involved in calling him a ‘wild man,’ the fact that his body was left exposed, the fact that someone called the police when there didn’t appear to be any crime having been committed.”

Darling wrote two articles for Adirondack Daily Enterprise in 2021 (part 1 and part 2), laying out what she learned about the killing. According to records, the man is buried in nearby North Creek. Darling hopes one day to determine the identity of the man.

Near the end of the old logging road, Alessi-Holmes pointed out something fluttering atop some wildflowers. “There’s an American beauty butterfly over there right now and it’s on a plant that’s locally called pearly everlast.”

The Adirondacks are a place of deep wilderness and a lot of beauty, but they’re also a place where prejudice and racism still exist. Artist Keith Morris Washington said that is still evident here today.

“As I was driving in yesterday, I saw a New York license plate and a Confederate plate underneath it,” Washington explained. “It’s just like, yeah, you can’t get away from that kind of ignorance, I’ll put it that way kindly.”

At the end of the road, Washington stopped to take a few photos and reflect on the experience.

“As I was walking to this place I was, in a sort of broad way, thinking about the victim and sending my thoughts to make a great painting for this person who we don’t know their name yet, even, so there’s a bit of a solemness to it,” said Washington.

Washington’s goal is to make a “beautiful painting of a location that has a tragic history to it.” The Adirondack Experience will have the option to buy the piece and add it to its collection, putting more of the Adirondack’s history on display.

[bookeleven11photography]

The Keys To Good Family Formals

A blog by Wedding photographer Columbus GA

So your wedding day is coming up and you are probably a bit anxious. One of the things we like to do for our couple is taking things off their plate because the less you have to do on your wedding day the less you have to worry about before your wedding day. We want your special day, and the days leading up to it, to be as worry-free as possible. One of the items that cause folks angst is planning formal portraits. When will they take pictures with the family and whom will they take the pictures with? Well here’s our methodology for how we approach your family's formals

Make a List and Check it Twice

About 6 weeks before your wedding we’ll send you a worksheet where you can detail all the pictures you really want to be sure to have. It goes through pretty much every variation you can think of (you with each parent, you with all parents, you with each sibling, you with all siblings, you get the point) and it has space at the bottom of the page so you can fill out free form stuff. You want pictures with your college buddies? No worries, we got you

Communicate Beforehand

Let friends and family know before the wedding that they will be needed for the formals. It helps them to know not to wander off to cocktail hour and then we miss vital time trying to round them up. You can also make sure your officiant makes an announcement at the end of the ceremony that your family formals are right after and they should stay close (which is typically when formals happen).

Assign The Management To Someone Who Isn’t Getting Married That Day

Most of the time couples want to own every task associated with their weddings and this is just a bad idea. The more work you have to do on your special day the less you get to enjoy it. Lean on one of your siblings or lifelong friends who can identify most of the people you want in your formals by sight. This person shouldn’t be someone who is in most of the formals, that way they can round up stragglers while we shoot pictures.

Let Your Photographer Direct The Scene

Sometimes the couple, or other participants, want to stage the photos and this is always a terrible idea. You hired a professional so let them manage the work. This includes the management of onlookers and professional busybodies should you have any of those in your family (could just be me lol). A professional photographer will make sure your family standing around gets their shots while also making sure everything on your list gets taken care of.

Reference: https://www.bookeleven11.com/blog/2019/5/14/the-keys-to-good-family-formalsBlog Written By Eleven11 Photography

[libraford]

I'm going to give some background here because this is a highly opinionated piece and it will potentially escape containment and be divorced from its context. I'm going to put this under a readmore because there is a lot to discuss and some of it is heavy.

What I have is not solutions. Its insight.

I am not directly involved in the schools. I am not a teacher, I do not have children. I am a school photographer and I see a wide variety of schools in the state where I live for two to three days out of a year. However- my brother was the assistant principal of a middle school, my mother in law was a language teacher. Many of my friends from college are former teachers. I see comments about the local school bullying problems on our town's facebook page. But I think its also important to know that I was bullied relentlessly as a school kid and I still remember what it was like.

This is what typically informs my opinions about schools, behavior, and the current state of education.

Its been difficult to organize my thoughts on this subject because there are so many factors that contribute to bullying, and this is really a whole picture kind of thing.

Children are a reflection of their world. They have limited experiences, so the way that they react to things tells us about the world they're in.

Its rough out there.

Even before Covid, there were discussions about the rise of bad behaviors in schools- it was dangerous to be a teacher in certain cities 2018, which is when most of my friends quit teaching. Covid made this worse. Kids had their lives disrupted, there was so much uncertainty, and they saw adults acting horribly towards each other. It shouldn't be a surprise that someone in that position might not respect an adult.

But what's more, a lot of teachers are hard to respect. There are times when I'm visiting a school and the teacher monitoring the cafeteria where I'm stationed has declared that the entire grade must have a silent lunch because a few kids were acting up. This consists of quietly eating your food, no sharing or trades, no talking, giggling, whispering. The teacher in charge shouts at them endlessly and threatens them with losing recess if they hear any talking. If they lose recess, they will have to be silent and listen to more yelling. When they get back to class, they will be yelled at again because of their behavior. When they get home from school, they might get yelled at again from their parents because of their behavior.

There was a kid in my line today to get his photo taken. He had some glasses glare, so I instructed him to drop his chin a little bit. The teacher misheard me and yells at him that he's supposed to smile. He gets mad at her, says he did. Teacher refuses to listen. Student refuses to comply. He mean mugs me. She yells at him some more. I tell her she's mistaken. She tells me he should be listening.

At a higher level of education, I was previously at a high school where I had no choice but to listen to a teacher lecture a near-adult student for thirty minutes nonstop because he wouldn't fall in line like the rest of his class. When she told him to get his picture taken, he said he didn't want to. I tell him that its required by the state. If he doesn't want to do it today, he will have another chance in October. He tells me he won't be here then. I tell him he doesn't have to smile. He lets me take his photo. The teacher yells at him for not complying perfectly. Its another fifteen minutes of lecture about his future.

The snippets that I see on a day to day basis kind of paint an ugly picture in the specific region I'm working in. Students don't respect the teachers, but the teachers also don't respect the students.

I have worked at jobs where the boss yells at his workers all day, and I know its not the exact same, but I think about schools and workplaces a lot. If you are at a job like that you have a few options: You can endure it and try to do your best and hope that its temporary, you can go to HR and hope your boss gets fired over it, you can leave, or you can lash out. I have been at workplaces where the toxic boss leads to toxic colleagues. I often think of it like wolves in captivity- where wolves create a pecking order out of desperation for control over their environment.

At a school, you don't have the option to just leave. Both the teachers and the students are stuck with each other for the whole year.

If your only experience of adulthood is of adults yelling at you, then it stands to reason that this would create a bullying situation. You've been bullied. It must be alright to focus your attention on something you don't like. Because you're something that the teacher doesn't like.

When you're in that position, bullying someone can often feel like standing up for yourself. Emotions aren't always easy to pin down with words and adults even get the words wrong sometimes. I know a lot of very famous adults who get the words 'mean-spirited' and 'hate crime' confused for 'truth' and 'brutally honest.'

Kids are tiny adults with complex emotions but no idea what to do with them because adults don't remember what its like to be a kid. Its like having the bottom of your foot itch while you're driving- you can't take your shoe off and scratch it so the best you can do is scream down the highway.

But I don't want to make it sound like the teachers are the ones at fault, because they're not. Not always.

Good teachers know what they're worth and they leave for better schools, better jobs, or work their way up into administration where their hopes are crushed like a grape.

But even the ones that are good, or even trying, are victims of a bullshit system. The majority of teachers right now are probably my age and grew up in schools like mine- which was not a good experience for me as previously mentioned. Kids were making fun of me for being fat and I was told that they 'kind of had a point.' Bullying aside, it was a 'sit down, do your work, no time for games' situation, not unlike the 'losing your recess' scenario previously mentioned. Literally, they were preparing us for factories and the military.

Every person my age was shaped by the 'No Child Left Behind' bullshit that was so riddled with loopholes and abelist, racist shit that its any wonder we're not all suffering from PTSD (most of us are.)

And the schools have not changed much since.

In fact, it seems like we've doubled down.

The pressure of testing is high. They have to teach everything expected to be on the test by the date of the test and no they are not allowed to know what's on the test. Testing is a constant factor in teacher pressures.

Kids misbehaving adds more pressure. They're not trained to be child psychologists, even if that's what the kids need. No teacher can be everything to everyone, but they're expected to do just that.

Today I listen to a teacher complain about the needs of her kids and she is very heartful about it. She has two kids who only speak Spanish and one kid who only speaks French, but there is no translator. Surely, there must be some way to teach under this condition without learning two languages.

For a different school, I have to learn how to say 'smile' in Spanish, French, Pashto, Nepali, Urdu, and Ukranian. The city I live in is uniquely diverse and I love it, but the teachers can't keep up and I sympathize. I get by with hand gestures, mostly, because language is not one of my strong suits. They don't have that luxury.

The school counselor is overburdened and underpaid. The social workers are a revolving cast. Administration is a mess, not organized, always fighting.

The common reactions for burnout are leave, coast, and lash out.

So you can see where this becomes a monster that feeds itself.

We're back to wolves in captivity, but one of the wolves has authority and a mission with deadlines to carry out with sometimes over 30 traumatized wolf pups.

But there's even more to this.

It seems hopeless to say it this way, but its a mess out there in the world. Kids take in more than you think they do. They see violence. They see hate. They see suffering. They see poverty. They see war. They take all that with them. They internalize everything. Whatever their unique normal is, that is their normal. These kids are going to be unraveling a lot of trauma as they grow and we are going to be in for a very weird time in about a decade.

So I am going to talk a little about the schools in the country. Lord knows they're not perfect. They have lots and lots of troubles. They are critically underfunded- we just saw three elementary schools close this year. And I know they're not immune to bullying problems. A lot of them are not equipped for special needs students and that makes me worried. The kid who speaks Spanish might fall behind because the nearest advocate lives half an hour away.

But.

I see some differences. Classes are smaller, teachers can give the kids more individual attention. Teachers know all of the kids parents because the community is smaller- like they do yoga together or they see each other in church. Less transfers in, transfers out- the kids have a sense of stability in their school life. The routines are strong and structured, but they also are flexible.

I think that their sense of community is a very important factor in making sure the kids are being attended to when there's a problem. Its like... one school per region. You go to school with your neighbors.

Our city teachers did go on strike for smaller classrooms and they did win that condition. I have seen some improvement there. Half-step improvements. But I think that the sense that the school is a place where community is built plays a part in creating a sense of belonging- which is missing somewhat in urban schools. I don't know how to fix that.

Here are some opinions that might relieve some pressure:

Teachers need to be paid more. Flat out. Pay them more. We need to be paying attention to school board elections because teachers need paid more.

Social workers, councilors, advocates- paid more. And more than one staffed per school because the burnout is real.

Students do need to be empowered to look after each other and I do not mean like a 'zero tolerance' thing- thats so abusable. I mean we need to put a lot more applied funding towards early childhood development because if that's where you first learn to stand up for yourself and others then we need to make sure they're doing that.

Clubs. I know you can't make kids join clubs, but when I'm doing yearbook groups its really clear to me that the kids that are involved in clubs are making connections. And it does give kids a place to go if home is not safe for any reason. Do they still do the Big Brothers and Sisters clubs? They were a big deal where I was growing up. Even if its not school related, just having a network of support makes a world of difference.

'Eliminating poverty' is a tall order, but if the problem is at home then poverty is probably a factor. This may sound indirect, but donating money, time, or items to organizations that fight poverty in your area is likely to help a struggling family with school children.

We have GOT to be paying attention to local school board elections. So many of the candidates go uncontested. I know I already said that but this is important.

If you are a teacher and a kid comes up to you and says that they're being bullied for any reason, do not under any circumstances imply that the bully is right to treat them that way. And you should actually address the problem because it WILL happen again.

I was kind of half joking this afternoon that school age children should form a union, but I'm also starting to think that that's not a bad idea. If your teacher is acting like a bad boss, then you should treat them like a bad boss and be able to make demands via collective bargaining.

I just realized I've been typing for 2 hours and I have to be up at 3 am tomorrow. I'm sure I'm wrong about some things. I'm sure there are plenty of solutions that I didn't think of. But this is what goes through my mind literally every time I see bullying at a school I visit.

God, sometimes I think about anti-bullying campaigns and how functionally useless they are against the root of the problem, and how sometimes they make things worse.