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joongtreasure · 8 months ago

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Cupcakes and Kisses

Mingi x Fem Reader (ft. ATEEZ members) Word count: 6.6k Genre: high school au, jock Mingi, kissing booth au Note/s: Based on the film Kissing Booth (2018). This was in my drafts since 2021? + Mention of Changbin of Stray Kids <3 hehe Photo credits: 1, 2, 3

High school—it's the period for the most embarrassing moments of your life. Not only was it the time for raging hormones and puberty, but also a time for wrong decisions.

And today was no exception.

Today was the last day of the pitch for the spring carnival at KQ Prep. The student council required every club in the school to set up a booth for the event. Or else, no extra funding for club activities.

You were the vice president of the culinary and baking club, or as others would like to call it, the foodies. It's not that bad or insulting, to be honest (depending on you if you take it to heart). It is certainly not for your best friend, Jung Wooyoung, who was also the president of the club.

You and Wooyoung were like a tandem, a buy-one-get-one-free deal. In many ways, you and Wooyoung fill each other up: you were the shy and patient one, while Wooyoung was the confident and loud one. There was never a boring moment with him, but that doesn't mean all moments with him were good. Like right now...

Wooyoung, with a firm grip on your school blazer sleeve, dragged you across the hallway, whining, "It's a good idea!"

You, on the other hand, tried to pull away, saying, "No, it's not!"

Wooyoung grumbled. "The water sports are doing a toss and dunk booth! We have to beat their sorry asses!"

"You just want to beat Changbin!" You tried to pull away again but Wooyoung's grip was so firm that your school shoes were starting to skid against the school floor. "How is a kissing booth by us any better?!"

"It will be a hit!"

"It spreads germs!"

"We'll provide sanitation and mints!"

"We could be sued for public indecency!"

Wooyoung sighed and let go of your hand. "Oh, come on, live a little, Y/N."

You shrugged. "Can't we just make a bunch of food for the carnival? I know everyone will be hungry."

Wooyoung gave you a pointed look. "Everyone is going to sell food and trinkets at the carnival."

"Well," you jutted your chin out in confidence, "we could do, uh, well, an apple bobbing competition?"

Wooyoung scowled at you. "That's boring." He sighed. "Look, the majority of the officers already agreed to the kissing booth, Y/N. Except you."

"That's because you implied that San will be in the lineup of kissers," you stated. "Even though you haven't even asked him yet."

"That's because he and I think alike. Trust me, he would agree."

You pouted. "And trust me, the food will sell."

Wooyoung smiled and patted your head. "Oh, sure, you do that," he said before turning around and scurrying towards the student council's office.

You sighed.

-----

You slumped on the empty front steps of the school, sporting a frown on your face. Wooyoung was taking so long in the meeting. You hoped the kissing booth was rejected by the student council.

The doors of the school opened, the sound of the creaking metal startling you out of your thoughts. You looked back to see Song Mingi, the star of KQ Prep's basketball team, exiting the building and looking fresh out of a shower. He probably just finished practice.

You looked away before he could catch you staring. Mingi was one of those guys who looked straight out of a movie—tall, handsome, athletic, always wears a varsity jacket, drives a Jeep, and center of the school's attention. But it would be foolish to think that he's arrogant and proud like the trope. He's one of the sweetest and nicest people you ever met.

You had a few classes with him. You could say that the interaction between the two of you is funny. He could be playful yet gentle and respectful at the same time. And in time, you also found yourself liking him like the entire student body.

Unbeknownst to you, as soon as Mingi saw you alone on the steps, he smiled and slightly hurried down. "Hey, Y/N," Mingi greeted, plopping beside you on the warm pavement.

You internally freaked when you saw Mingi next to you. The loose shirt, the sweet scent of his shampoo, and the dopey grin were too much for your poor heart.

"You had a club meeting today?" Mingi asked.

"Not really," you responded. "I'm waiting for Wooyoung to finish his pitch for the spring carnival."

Mingi nodded. "And what will your club be doing?"

You groaned. "Don't remind me. It's embarrassing."

Mingi chuckled. "Why? It can't be that bad."

You sighed before muttering, "it's a kissing booth."

Mingi's eyes widened in surprise. "That's... interesting."

"It's all Wooyoung's idea," you shrugged. "Nothing better than to capitalize on teen hormones, right?"

"Right," Mingi said monotonously.

Seeing his somewhat dry response, you slumped. "I told you it was an embarrassing idea."

"No, I mean, yes—I mean," Mingi stuttered a response. "It was just unexpected, that's all." Mingi somewhat looked conflicted, but he still smiled softly at you. "Is it alright for me to ask if," he paused.

"If what?"

"If you—I mean, would you be joining?" Mingi asked.

You blinked in thought. "What do you mean?"

Mingi studied your confused expression before shaking his head. "Nevermind," he said, standing up.

You groaned. "Great, now you got me curious."

"It's nothing." Mingi laughed. "But, hey, if teen hormones bring you the money, then, why not?" He said, making you laugh as well. "Got a ride home?"

"Yeah," you smiled, "I'm riding with Wooyoung."

Mingi nodded. "Alright, I'll see you around then, Y/N."

You blushed. "Yeah, see you," you said as Mingi continued his way down the steps.

"Hey," he turned to you one last time, flashing you his oh-so-perfect smile. "You look cute as always, Y/N," he said before heading towards the parking lot. You swore you could've melted right on the front steps that day.

-----

It was no surprise the council approved the kissing booth idea. You totally blame Wooyoung. The boy could probably smooth talk himself out of jail if the situation calls for it.

Your club already started building the podium and mini stage for the booth in the school courtyard because there wasn't room in the Home Economics classroom. The weather was too perfect to ignore by anyone who had free period at the time.

"I'm going to get more paint," Wooyoung said to you before jogging towards the doors and into the building.

You were left alone with a few of your members, who were engaged in a hushed conversation while you minded your own business.

You took a peak at the guys playing at the basketball court. It's no surprise that Mingi and his friends were playing. They always do during free period. They must really love the sport.

It is also no surprise that they have a few spectators as well. It's the only time you would ever find Mingi and his friends setting their blazers aside, donning only their school shirts that accentuated their build so heavenly. Not that you were staring…

Speaking of, Yunho and Mingi laughed among themselves as Yunho tried to shoot the ball. Mingi effectively blocked him with his hand, however the ball bounced out of the court. It bounced until it was rolling over the pavement and stopped right where you were painting. You were able to grab the ball before it could barrel into the newly painted podium.

Seeing where the ball ended, Mingi ran towards you. "Hey," he greeted as he picked up the ball and crouched down next to you, "it's looking great. What's it for?" He asked, referring to the podium.

"It's for this week's carnival," you answered with a sigh.

"Right," Mingi chuckled awkwardly. "Umm," he paused, "so what will you be doing while," he drifted off, evidently conflicted as he pondered over his words carefully.

You looked at him funny. "While...?"

"While, you know," Mingi shrugged, "while people are kissing."

"I'll just man the booth," you said nonchalantly. "I'll leave it to Wooyoung and the others to facilitate the germ spreading."

Mingi laughed, looking somewhat happy and relieved at the same time. "Still haven't warmed up to the idea, I see."

"Never."

Mingi grinned. His face morphed into embarrassment as Yunho called for him from a few meters away. "Are we going to play, or are you too busy mingling, Mingi?"

Mingi rolled his eyes before smiling at you. "I gotta go. I'll see you around, Y/N."

You waved at him as he stood up and went back to his friends. You chuckled at the sight of Yunho giving Mingi a headlock and basically hauling him back to court. The boys laughed between themselves before returning to their game with their other friends.

You were feeling blissful, like how you always felt whenever you and Mingi talked to each other. You truly liked the guy. However, the blissful feeling was short-lived as a wild Wooyoung plopped down next to you. "What was that?!" He asked.

You blinked curiously at him. "What was what?" You looked at the spot you were previously painting. "I'm almost done. I didn't miss a spot as far as I could tell."

Wooyoung rolled his eyes. "I wasn't referring to the podium. I was referring to you and Mingi!" He exclaimed.

You looked at him funny. "It was just a friendly conversation."

"Friendly?" Wooyoung sighed exasperatedly. "Oh no no no, honey, you didn't see what I see. The guy is into you!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Wooyoung," you shook your head. "We have always talked like that. He's just super nice—"

"Na-ah! Again, you didn't see what I see," Wooyoung replied. All of a sudden, Wooyoung's face broke into excitement. He started slapping your arm, making you groan not in pain but in annoyance. "I just thought of the most brilliant idea EVER."

You frowned, not liking where this was going. "What?"

-----

"This is worse than you pitching the kissing booth idea to the council."

"Oh, come on," Wooyoung said as he kept pushing you towards the gym where the basketball team was training. "I will be of service to you forever if you manage to get him."

It was already past class hours when Wooyoung dragged you into putting his idea into action. He said you guys should have a meeting about the spring carnival after class. But alas, he deceived you again. That sly fox, you thought.

Wooyoung faced you towards him. "Alright, your uniform is clean, no evidence of your lunch anywhere," you rolled your eyes as Wooyoung checked you up and down. Wooyoung scrutinized your face before smiling triumphantly. "No booger or drool in sight too," he said.

"You—!" You exclaimed, but Wooyoung turned you around again and shoved you closer toward the gym doors. Sighing, you walked toward it, and right when you were directly in front of the entrance, you looked back at him. "How is this the most brilliant idea you ever had, again?"

Wooyoung shrugged. "The plan here is simple: talk to Mingi and his friends into joining our lineup of kissers so we can get more people to come to our booth."

"I don't want to use him, Woo."

"The man's too soft for you," Wooyoung smiled. "He will do whatever you want, I guarantee."

You gave him the most innocent look you could ever muster in an attempt to change his mind. But Wooyoung just shooed you with his hand and raised his eyebrows pointedly. With a defeated sigh, you opened the doors and entered.

The basketball team was in the midst of a practice game. You immediately spotted Mingi, running while dribbling the ball across the court. When he managed to outrun his opponent, he immediately made his shot, the ball flying through the air and into the hoop. You stared at him, awed as he was in his element.

A bunch of squeals echoed in the gym. There was an audience watching with excited grins and squeals near the team's benches. It was an open practice after all. Sighing, you sat awkwardly at the side.

The coach blew his whistle, signaling that training was over. The players rejoiced and immediately jogged to their bags scattered on the benches. There were a few girls who called for Mingi, but he only smiled sheepishly and went to his gym bag.

"Hey, Mingi," Yeosang, his friend and teammate, spoke between his breaths. "Isn't that your friend?"

Mingi looked at wherever Yeosang was pointing. And true enough, you were there at the edge of the bleachers, awkwardly twiddling with your fingers.

"Yeah," Mingi said, dumbfounded at the thought of you watching their training.

"I think she's looking for you," Yunho, Mingi's best friend, said. He shook his head in amusement, eyeing Yeosang knowingly as Mingi started wiping his sweat and combing his hair deliberately to the back. Mingi hastily gathered his things before approaching you.

"Hey," he greeted with a smile.

You stood up awkwardly. There was something about a wet-haired Mingi in a basketball jersey that had you tongue-tied for a moment. "Uhh, hi, umm, Mingi."

"Were you waiting for me?"

"Umm, yeah, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure, have a seat," Mingi said as he sat a bleacher apart from you, not wanting you to smell his sweaty state. "What's up?"

"Well, our club is hosting a kissing booth for the spring carnival," you slightly frowned at your awkward self. "Umm, but I think you already knew that."

Mingi chuckled and nodded amusingly. "Yeah, you might have mentioned it once or twice," he joked.

You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, I did, didn't I? But, well, you see, Wooyoung asked me to ask you about something."

Mingi nodded again, urging you to go on.

You sighed nervously. "Can you," you cleared your throat, "can you be—wait, I must emphasize that it was Wooyoung's idea."

"It was Wooyoung's idea," Mingi repeated. "Got it. Crystal clear. Now, what's up with Wooyoung's idea?"

You sighed defeatedly. Well, here goes nothing, you thought. "Can you be one of the kissers for our kissing booth?"

Mingi's eyes turned wide. "What?"

Your lips formed a thin line. "Umm, can you be one of the kissers for our kissing booth?" You repeated, less confident this time.

Mingi blinked unbelievably. "Why me?"

You sighed. "Well, Wooyoung was hoping your friends too. He said that having the players of the basketball team would bring revenue to the booth."

"Oh."

You frowned. "I'm sorry, I told Wooyoung you might be uncomfortable with it, but he insisted that I should still ask you."

"Why would I be uncomfortable with it?"

"I don't know," you shrugged. You were busy playing with the ends of your school blazer as the conversation pursued. "I guess, I didn't pin you to be the type to openly kiss strangers, or show public displays of affection."

"Maybe," Mingi side-smiled, "maybe not. Or, maybe it depends on the person."

"Oh," you muttered, "sorry. I didn't know."

Mingi then leaned on his knees, getting a better view of your slightly flustered face. "Do you want me to be a kisser?"

"What?" You stared at him blankly. "Well, Wooyoung said—"

"I mean, do YOU want me to be a kisser?" Mingi emphasized, "You as in Y/N L/N, and not Jung Wooyoung?"

You didn't reply immediately, pondering over what his question meant. "Why are you asking me?"

"I don't know," Mingi said. "I feel like I should listen to you."

Why, though? This conversation was going nowhere and it was making you more nervous than before. Not to mention Mingi's inquisitive gaze that had you looking anywhere but him.

Do you actually want him to, though? I mean, the kissing booth opens so many opportunities, but you were uncomfortable with the thought of him... the thought of him kissing...

"No," you said.

Mingi smiled, nodding at your answer, which confused you. "Then I won't," he sat properly again against the bleacher, letting his intense gaze turn into a soft one. "I won't join then."

"What? Why?" You were dumbfounded.

"Just tell Wooyoung I'm busy or something," he said. "But I will try to talk to my friends, though. Emphasis on the word 'try.'"

"W-Would you have joined if I said yes?" You probed, but Mingi already stood up as if the conversation was already over, smirking at your confused look.

"Do you have a ride home?" He asked.

"Umm, yeah, Wooyoung's right outside," you answered.

"Well, then, I'll see you around." Mingi smiled at you for the last time before exiting the gym.

You sat back on the bleachers. Though your stance was already relaxed due to the conversation being over, your mind still couldn't wrap around what just happened in the conversation. Would he have agreed if I said yes?

The doors of the gym creaked as someone entered. It was Mingi again. He approached you with a different glint in his eye this time. What now?

"Hey," Mingi greeted. "Could you hold this for a moment?" Before you could ask, he put the object he was referring to in your hand. It was a set of keys—car keys, in particular. "Don't lose it, okay? I'll be quick, I swear." And just like that, he left again.

You stared at the keys in your palm. You really like Mingi, but he was seriously giving you a whiplash at the moment.

Your phone buzzed in your blazer pocket, indicating that you received a text message. You pulled it out to see a text from Wooyoung.

There's an emergency at home. Had to pick up Kyungmin from our grandma's house. Go get your man!

-----

You walked back and forth in the hallway, in front of the boy's locker room. You didn't know why Mingi left these keys with you, but you figured you had to return them to him before you leave for the bus stop. You couldn't just leave it somewhere and message him about it. Someone could steal it. Or worse, someone could steal his car.

Just in time, Mingi exited the locker room, fresh out of the shower and now sporting a big hoodie and sweats. "Hey," Mingi smiled.

"Hey, you gave these to me for some reason," you jiggled the car keys before placing them on his palm.

"Right," Mingi chuckled. "Shall we?"

You stared at him. "Shall we what?"

"Wooyoung already left, didn't he?"

"How did you know?"

Mingi chuckled. "The hallway was empty when I left," he shrugged, putting his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, "I figured he went somewhere."

"Ah, yeah, he said he had an emergency at home," you responded, following Mingi outside the school.

Truth be told, Mingi met Wooyoung in the hallway.

---

Mingi smiled as he saw Wooyoung in the hallway. "Hey," he greeted. "Sorry, I don't think I can join. I think I have to visit my grandma that day."

Wooyoung slumped. "Oh, okay. Where's Y/N?"

"She'll be right out, I guess," Mingi replied. "See ya—"

"You like her, don't you?" Wooyoung asked.

"Uhh," Mingi blushed. "I-well, I, umm—"

"Yup, you like her," Wooyoung smirked. "Why won't you ask her out then?"

Mingi sighed. "I don't think she's interested in me in that way."

Wooyoung scoffed. "Believe me, she does." He started walking away. "I'll be taking my leave. Hope you get the guts to ask her out."

Mingi sighed again when suddenly he remembered, "Hey, aren't you her ride home?"

Wooyoung turned around and started walking backward with a smirk. "Am I?" He waggled his eyebrows before disappearing in the hallway.

Mingi grinned and shook his head in amusement before rushing back inside the gym to leave you his car keys.

-----

Mingi glanced momentarily at you with a smile. He would have to apologize in the future for using your kindness like that. But he hoped that doing this would drive him to ask you confidently out on a date.

Mingi opened the school doors wide enough for the both of you and waited until you were completely outside before closing it.

"Come on, I'll give you a ride," Mingi offered.

"Oh, no thank you," you hastily refused, "I'll take the bus."

Mingi shook his head. "I'm not taking no for an answer. We live a few blocks away, anyway, so it's really convenient."

"But I don't want to impose," you sighed.

"You're not, Y/N," Mingi said. "And you won't. Like ever."

You sighed again. "But—"

Mingi shook his head then snatched your school bag. "If you ever want to see this bag again, you're going to have to catch me," and with that, Mingi ran towards the parking lot.

"Hey, no fair!" You followed him, pouting as the distance between the two of you widened. Damn his athletic build.

You chased after him, groaning in annoyance when Mingi reached his car and wiggled your bag as if to spite you. But you both found yourselves laughing as soon as you almost barreled into him and he caught you before you both could barrel into his jeep.

"Come on, Y/N, it's really not a bother," Mingi said, opening the passenger door.

You sighed. "Fine," you huffed as you grabbed your bag and settled in his passenger seat. "Just this once," you told him.

"Oh, don't count on it," Mingi said, winking at you before closing your door. You swore he would be the death of you.

As Mingi drove his jeep out of the school lot, you both fell into a casual conversation. "So why don't you want me to be a kisser?" Mingu asked.

You narrowed your eyes at his teasing expression. "Oh, stop smiling. I don't want anyone to be part of that"

"I guess, you didn't have much say on the idea?"

You slumped against the car seat with a soft 'yeah.'

Mingi looked at you momentarily before focusing on the road. "What was your idea?"

"Nothing special." You smiled. "I was thinking of just baking cupcakes or pastries."

"I think that's a great idea."

"Yeah, right," you muttered sarcastically.

"No, I swear. I think your baking's great," Mingi stressed.

"How would you know?"

"Because I bought and ate a lot from last year's fundraiser." Mingi smiled and chuckled, almost as if he could smell and taste your fresh batch just by thinking about it. "Especially those cupcakes. I swear, they're good."

"Huh, no wonder the cupcakes sold out easily," you chuckled. "We had an influencer."

"Or," Mingi drawled, "your baking is just that good." He smiled, switching his gaze back and forth between the road and you.

"Said no one ever," you shot back teasingly.

"I just said like seconds ago that they're good." Mingi shook his head in disbelief. "You don't take compliments very well."

"Maybe because I don't usually get them," you retorted.

"Ahh, all the reason for me to compliment you more then."

You looked at him before turning away upon seeing his smirk. "Oh, stop it," you said jokingly, but your heart felt like it was ramming against the seatbelt of his car.

The car slowed down to a stop just right in front of your house. You were about to thank him when Mingi suddenly exited the car. He rushed to your side before opening the car door.

"Thanks for the ride," you said. "You didn't have to do that."

"I don't mind," he replied, following you to the front door.

"And you didn't have to walk me to the door." You chuckled. "It's literally like a few steps away from the fence."

"But I want to, though." Mingi shrugged and put his hands inside the pockets of his hoodie.

You both arrived at the front door. You were too busy finding your keys to notice that he was lingering to stay with you longer. As you opened your front door, you finally noticed his awkward stature. "D-Do you want to have dinner with us?"

"Oh," Mingi snapped out of it. "Uhh, maybe next time. My mom's waiting for me at home."

You nodded in understanding.

"Y/N," Mingi sighed. "Do you want to...?"

"What?"

"I mean, umm," Mingi scratched his head awkwardly. "Do you—do you have any of those cupcakes lying around?"

"Oh, could you wait here for a minute?" You smiled before disappearing into your home.

Mingi palmed his face in frustration, muttering 'stupid' and 'dumbass' to himself. He pulled himself together when he heard your footsteps nearing.

You came out again with a small box in hand. "I baked them last night but they're still good," you said, handing out the box of cupcakes to Mingi.

"Thanks," Mingi grinned sheepishly nonetheless. "I'll give some to my mom."

"You better," you smiled.

"Thanks again, Y/N. I'll see you at school," Mingi started walking backward with a soft smile.

"See you," you waved at him. "Thanks for the ride."

Mingi winked at you before hopping into his jeep. As soon as Mingi's jeep disappeared into the night, you slumped against your front door and tried to calm your blushing self.

-----

It was the day of the dreaded carnival. The field where your school held the said carnival was almost in full swing, the lights and excitement gradually increasing as time passed by.

Your club has been there since early morning to finalize everything for the booth. Despite your judgment against the club's concept, you still had to do it for the sake of the team.

Although, you had convinced Wooyoung to sell baked goods nonetheless. Your point was to remind the audience that you were still the culinary and baking club of the school. Thankfully, he agreed.

So, here you were, setting up a separate table for different baked goods beside the registration.

Wooyoung surprised you with an arm around your shoulder and a big grin. "I can already feel wads of money in our laps." He dramatically inhaled for effect. "I mean, look at our lineup so far."

You begrudgingly looked at the people readying themselves on the mini-stage.

Leave it to Wooyoung to invite people from the top of the high school food chain. Everybody likes Wooyoung anyway. At least there were a few friendly faces—school mascot San, street dancer Seonghwa, up-and-coming celebrity Jongho, and... student council president Hongjoong?

"How did you get him?" You almost giggled at Hongjoong's icy demeanor just standing in the middle of the lineup.

"Oh, he owes me," Wooyoung said nonchalantly. When you gave him a look, he just replied, "Don't ask."

You shook your head as if to shake the idea of Hongjoong in Wooyoung's debt. It's an amusing sight, though.

"So where's your pretty boy's friends?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I haven't seen them ever since."

You knew it was too good to be true. Your moment with Mingi lasted only a day as you haven't seen him for the rest of the week. Not even on free period. And when you had a class together, he looked like he was about to doze off and fall from his desk. You didn't want to be a bother.

"Oh, wait, nevermind. Here they come."

You immediately glanced up to see Mingi, Yunho, and Yeosang walking toward your booth. You could feel the crowd starting to buzz upon seeing the star players approach the kissing booth. Your gaze landed on Mingi who sported a plain oversized shirt and ripped jeans. So simple yet so handsome.

"Hey," Mingi greeted with a smile, never looking away from your gaze.

"H-Hey, how have you been?" You tried to keep your blush at bay.

"Well—"

"We're so glad to be here, Y/N. Mingi really convinced us to be here," Yeosang smiled in a—teasing?—manner, which you responded to with an awkward chuckle.

"Yeah," Yunho chimed in. "Mingi really, really wanted us to join your kissing booth." Yunho smiled widely at Mingi, who only rolled his eyes.

"That's great, great news!" Wooyoung rejoiced. He quickly winked at you before ushering Mingi's friends to the lineup.

When you and Mingi were the only ones left, you smiled sheepishly. "I hope it wasn't much of a trouble convincing your friends."

"Don't worry, Y/N, it wasn't." Lie(-ish). Yunho and Yeosang complained a lot and made Mingi do whatever they liked for the past few days. From doing their homework to washing their cars, they were relentless. He hadn't gotten any proper sleep because of it. But, it wasn't really much of a trouble since he was doing it for you. Well, your club. But mostly for you.

Mingi stared at the table of baked goods in front of you. "I see you convinced Wooyoung to continue with your idea." He smiled.

"He still listens anyway." You chuckled. "Do you want one?"

"Definitely. I'll take a—"

Before Mingi could finish, Wooyoung appeared and dragged you away from Mingi. "Sorry, Mingi! We're about to start now!" He yelled, but not before freezing on the spot as an idea popped into his head.

Wooyoung went back to Mingi with you in tow. "Actually, can you do us a favor and man the table? I need Y/N for the register."

You clicked your tongue and were about to protest when Mingi immediately said, "Sure."

You looked at him curiously. "Really?"

"I don't see why not," Mingi smiled.

Deep inside, Wooyoung was popping confetti. Wooyoung thanked Mingi before going to the center of the mini-stage. You placed yourself at the registration table as Wooyoung shouted, "And the kissing booth is officially open!"

----

You thought you could handle the smooch-fest behind you. But... you thought wrong. The amount of kissing and hooting was too much for your poor heart. Thank the heavens the registration continued to pile up and you had to put your sole focus there. Well, not entirely.

You would sometimes peek at Mingi who had his own long line to attend to. Mingi manning the food table seemed to generate a longer line than the kissing booth, which made you chuckle softly before turning your attention back to the registration.

It wasn't long before Mingi managed to sell everything on the table and he approached you with the funds he generated. You dumbfoundedly accepted and stared at the small lunchbox where he put the money.

"I hope I did well, Ms. Y/N." Mingi smiled.

"You did, Mingi," you replied. "Thank you so much for helping us."

Mingi shrugged. "It was no problem." He looked at his watch. "Well, I have to do something for the time being. Will you still be here later?"

You nodded. "I'm here 'til it closes."

"I'll see you then." Mingi winked before disappearing into the carnival crowd.

-----

If you were being honest, the rest of the afternoon felt slow despite the buzz around your booth. With Mingi gone, it suddenly felt boring. You didn't show it though. You still wanted to be presentable to the carnival-goers.

As night rolled in, the excitement started to die down. The crowd dissipated until only a few people were passing by the booths. The kissing booth was more successful than you thought, thanks to Wooyoung and his lineup of volunteers.

As Wooyoung set aside the podiums, you counted all the money you had raised from the kissing booth and food table. You were halfway done when Wooyoung finished packing up and stood beside you. "So, how much did we earn?" He asked.

"I'm not done counting," you said. "But, we already have enough to win the student council's favor and have some extra funds for our own," you happily gleamed.

"Yes! Let's get drunk and party!" Wooyoung cheered.

You glared at him. "You're joking, right?"

Wooyoung forced a smile and patted your head. "Of course, I'm joking," he said, though his tone didn't sound as sincere as you had hoped.

You tutted before turning back to the money in your hands. For a moment, Wooyoung was quietly watching you count the bills. Then, all of a sudden, he spoke, "Oh, would you look at the time, it's getting late. Gottagohomenowbye," before scurrying away.

You looked up confused, your eyes following his seemingly excited figure before landing on a tall one that was walking towards the booth. You tried to hide your fluster as Song Mingi stopped in front of the registration counter with a smile. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," you smiled sheepishly. You can't help but notice the oversized windbreaker that he is now sporting. "Umm, we've closed already."

"I know," Mingi said, "I just came here again to talk to you."

"Oh, what about?"

Mingi scratched the side of his head. "Uhh," he mustered, "nothing in particular. What are you doing?"

"I'm just counting all our earnings," you referred to the bills in your hand. "Thanks again to you and your friends. I think you were the ones who attracted the crowd, Yunho and Yeosang especially."

Mingi scoffed. "If the crowd knew how weird they are, they wouldn't be lining up at all."

"And you're not?" You teased.

Mingi raised an eyebrow. "Who wanted me to join your lineup again?"

You rolled your eyes. "That was Wooyoung, not me."

"Sure, okay," Mingi shrugged with a smirk.

You shook your head, wanting to wipe that smirk off his pretty face. You turned back to your money and jotted down the numbers under the last person to register. "Weren't you interested in our lineup of kissers? I can't thank you enough for helping us and being here and all."

Mingi leaned over the counter and crossed his arms. "No, not at all," he answered as he watched you work.

You looked at him and chuckled. "So you just came to watch your friends make out with a bunch of people, then?"

"Well, I did to maybe get some material for blackmail," Mingi chuckled then cleared his throat, "but I was also waiting for someone."

"Oh," you said. You sounded so dry that you wanted to beat yourself up for seeming affected. "Who?"

"For you, actually," Mingi answered without a hitch, making you blush madly. "I—uh—also got you something." He placed a small chick plushie on the counter.

You smiled uncontrollably as you grabbed and squeezed its fluffy material. "Where did you get this?" You happily asked.

"The claw machines rented by the robotics club," Mingi sighed. "My talent is limited to basketball I guess, since I only got one."

"It's cute," you chuckled. "What is this for anyway?"

"I figured a gift is better than $5 for a..." Mingi trailed off, unsure of how you would react.

Your face morphed from happy to surprise upon realizing what he meant. You looked him in the eyes to see whether he was joking or not, but eventually, you avoided his intense gaze. And you suddenly realized how close he was as he continued to lean over the counter, waiting for your response. "Stop that," you mumbled, "please."

"Stop what?"

"That," you said, not looking at him as you pushed him gently away from the counter. "Stop messing with me."

Mingi sighed as he stood properly, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. "I'm not messing with you, Y/N. I," he paused, plucking up the courage, "I want to kiss you—no, I want to ask you out first because I like you a lot."

You bit your lip anxiously. He wouldn't mess with you, right? You continued to stare at your feet. You can't bear to see if he was joking or not.

Mingi leaned over the counter again in an attempt to see your face. "I can see that you're holding yourself back. What's stopping you?"

You sighed, meeting his eyes for a moment before looking back down. "You're Song Mingi—"

"Nope, don't start. I don't wanna hear that bullshit. Give me a logical one like, I don't know, you don't like me back?" Mingi said sternly. His deep voice made the hairs on your nape stand. "I can date whomever I want. And that's you, Y/N. I like you for who you are. You're sweet and kind to everyone. You're one of the smartest people I know. You even stand up to your best friend for what you think is right."

You bit your lip again in a fluster, still too shy to make your move.

Mingi sighed. "If you don't like me back, it's alright, Y/N. I'm not going to be mad." He smiled softly. "I'm sorry for bombarding you with these things. You don't have to answer when you're uncomfortable." He moved to walk away, but you instantly grabbed the lining of his jacket to stop him.

"No, I—" you gripped the material nervously. "I like you too, Mingi. I—" You paused again, not knowing how to say your problem.

Mingi's eyes widened in surprise but waited for you to finish.

"I like you, Mingi. I—" you gulped. "And I also want to kiss you."

"But?" Mingi asked. "I feel like there's going to be a 'but' there."

You looked down at the counter. "But, I don't know how."

"I'm sorry." He smiled apologetically. "We don't have to kiss right now. We can just have dinner for now—"

"But I want to," you blurted out, which you immediately apologized for nonstop.

For a moment, you thought Mingi was going to laugh at you. You guessed that most of the people your age had already gotten their first kiss. Heck, your club's booth was a testament to that. So you were utterly embarrassed by your confession.

However, Mingi did no such thing. "Move over," he said. You didn't know what he meant until he climbed over the counter. You almost tripped backward when he jumped down right in front of you. He caught you just when you were about to stumble.

"What are you doing?" You mused.

"Can't you tell?" Mingi teased as he held your face tenderly. "I'm trying to kiss you properly."

You shook your head in disbelief and amusement. This guy is really sleek.

"C-Can I kiss you, Y/N?" Mingi asked. He rubbed his thumb against your cheek, comforting you.

You were extremely flustered by the warmth, not to mention the anticipation of what he was about to do, so all you could do at the moment was nod silently at his question.

Mingi smiled. You thought your heart was going to explode as Mingi came closer. You thought he was going to kiss you on the lips right away, but he planted a soft kiss on your forehead first. Then on your nose. You had to refrain from giggling, given the soft moment. Then he slowly came closer to your lips. You closed your eyes when you felt it against yours.

You couldn't explain it, but you felt warm and fuzzy inside despite your heartbeat ramming against your chest. The air felt soft yet exciting at the same time. It was definitely more than what you had imagined it to be.

You slid your hand against his chest and rested it behind his neck. His hands softly slid against your waist and pulled you closer. You could faintly hear Mingi humming in delight. And a few moments later, you both stopped to gaze at each other.

Although, you still had trouble maintaining eye contact with his intense ones. And Mingi just chuckled lightly at the sight. "You still don't want me to be a kisser?"

"No, I—" you pouted and Mingi just laughed.

"Don't worry, you're the only one I want to kiss," he murmured before kissing your forehead. "Dinner?"

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gmbeowulf · 20 days ago

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I've got a dozen anonymous messages this morning calling me an idiot, telling me to kill myself, telling me to log off, all that jazz. And, of course, mixed in were two scammers with fake Gaza gofundmes, just for good measure.

Y'all fell for propaganda and didn't vote, Trump won, and now America, Palestine, and the rest of the world are going to be thoroughly fucked.

This isn't the only reason, of course. Fox News gets big props as mainstream water carriers for the Republicans for two decades. Mainstream media outlets like the Times and the Post have been "sanitizing" Trump for months. Musk and other bad actors poured billions into voter suppression activities.

But right here, right now? The person on Tumblr reading this and getting mad at me for calling them out? Yeah, you swallowed a year of antisemitic propaganda without questioning it, decided you were too morally pure to ever touch a voting booth, and absolutely participated in getting Trump elected.

#politics #election #tumblr leftists

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eowyntheavenger · 10 months ago

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By Emily Strasser | August 9, 2023

At the theater where I saw Oppenheimer on opening night, there was a handmade photo booth featuring a pink backdrop, “Barbenheimer” in black letters, and a “bomb” made of an exercise ball wrapped in hoses. I want to tell you that I flinched, but I laughed and snapped a photo. It took a beat before I became horrified—by myself and the prop. Today is the 78th anniversary of the bombing of Nagasaki, which killed up to 70,000 people and came only three days after the bombing of Hiroshima that killed as many as 140,000 people. Yet still we make jokes of these weapons of genocide.

Oppenheimer does not make a joke of nuclear weapons, but by erasing the specific victims of the bombings, it repeats a sanitized treatment of the bomb that enables a lighthearted attitude and limits the power of the film’s message. I know this sanitized version intimately, because my grandfather spent his career building nuclear weapons in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, the site of uranium enrichment for the Hiroshima bomb. My grandfather died before I was born, and though there were photographs of mushroom clouds from nuclear tests hanging on my grandmother’s walls, we never discussed Hiroshima, Nagasaki, or the fact that Oak Ridge, still an active nuclear weapons production site, is also a 35,000-acre Superfund site. At the Catholic church in town, a pious Mary stands atop an orb bearing the overlapping ovals symbolizing the atom, and until it closed a few years ago, a local restaurant displayed a sign with a mushroom cloud bursting out of a mug of beer.

Oppenheimer does not show a single image of Hiroshima or Nagasaki. Instead, it recreates the horror through Oppenheimer’s imagination, when, during a congratulatory speech to the scientists of Los Alamos after the bombing of Hiroshima, the sound of the hysterically cheering crowd goes silent, the room flashes bright, and tatters of skin peel from the face of a white woman in the audience. The scene is powerful and unsettling, and, arguably, avoids sensationalizing the atrocity by not depicting the victims outright. But it also plays into a problematic pattern of whitewashing both the history and threat of nuclear war by appropriating the trauma of the Japanese victims to incite fear about possible future violence upon white bodies. An example of this pattern is a 1948 cover of John Hersey’s Hiroshima, which featured a white couple fleeing a city beneath a glowing orange sky, even though the book itself brought the visceral human suffering to American readers through the eyes of six actual survivors of the bombing.

The Oppenheimer film also neglects the impacts of fallout from nuclear testing, including from the Trinity test depicted in the film; the harm to the health of blue-collar production workers exposed to toxic and radiological materials; and the contamination of Oak Ridge and other production sites. Instead, the impressive pyrotechnics of the Trinity test, images of missile trails descending through clouds toward a doomed planet, and Earth-consuming fireballs interspersed with digital renderings of a quantum universe of swirling stars and atoms, elevate the bomb to the realm of the sublime—terrible, yes, but also awesome.

A compartmentalized project. The origins of this treatment can be traced to the Manhattan Project, when scientists called the bomb by the euphemistic code word “gadget” and the security policy known as compartmentalization limited workers’ knowledge of the project to the minimum necessary to complete their tasks. This policy helped to dilute responsibility and quash moral debates and dissent. Throughout the film, we see Oppenheimer move from resisting compartmentalization to accepting it. When asked by another scientist about his stance on a petition against dropping the bomb on Japan, he responds that the builders of the bomb do not have “any more right or responsibility” than anyone else to determine how it will be used, despite the fact that the scientists were among the few who even knew of its existence.

Due to compartmentalization, the vast majority of the approximately half-million Manhattan Project workers, like my grandfather, could not have signed the petition because they did not know what they were building until Truman announced the bombing of Hiroshima. Afterward, press restrictions limited coverage of the humanitarian impacts, giving the false impression that the bombings had targeted major military and industrial sites—and eliding the vast civilian toll and the novel horrors of radiation. Photographs and films of the aftermath, shot by Japanese journalists and American military, were classified and suppressed in the United States and occupied Japan.

The limit of theory. Not only is it dishonest and harmful to erase the suffering of the real victims of the bomb, but doing so moves the bomb into the realm of the theoretical and abstract. One recurring theme of the film is the limit of theory. Oppenheimer was a brilliant theorist but a haphazard experimentalist. A close friend and fellow scientist questions whether he’ll be able to pull off this massive, high-stakes project of applied theory. Just before the detonation of the Trinity test bomb, General Leslie Groves, the military head of the project, asks Oppenheimer about a joking bet overheard among the scientists regarding the possibility that the explosion would ignite the atmosphere and destroy the world. Oppenheimer assures Groves that they have done the math and the possibility is “near zero.” “Near zero?” Groves asks, alarmed. “What do you want from theory alone?” responds Oppenheimer.

Can the theoretical motivate humanity to action?

One telling scene shows Oppenheimer at a lecture on the impacts of the bomb. We hear the speaker describe how dark stripes on victims’ clothing were burned onto their skin, but the camera remains on Oppenheimer’s face. He looks at the screen, gaunt and glassy-eyed, for a few moments, before turning away. Americans are still looking away. As a country, we’ve succumbed to “psychic numbing,” as Robert Jay Lifton and Greg Mitchell call it in their book Hiroshima in America, which leads to general apathy about nuclear weapons—and pink mushroom clouds and bomb props for selfies.

On this anniversary of Nagasaki, the world stands on a precipice, closer than ever to nuclear midnight. The nine nuclear-armed states collectively possess more than 12,500 warheads; the more than 9,500 nuclear weapons available for use in military stockpiles have the combined power of more than 135,000 Hiroshima-sized bombs.

If Oppenheimer motivates conversation, activism, and policy shifts in support of nuclear abolition, that’s a good thing. But by relegating the bomb to abstracted images removed from actual humanitarian consequences, the film leaves the weapon in the realm of the theoretical. And as Oppenheimer says in the film, “theory will only take you so far.” Today, it’s vital that we understand the devastating impacts that nuclear weapons have had and continue to have on real victims of their production, testing, and wartime use. Our survival may depend on it.

#oppenheimer #nuclear weapons #nuclear testing

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bed-chemist · 9 months ago

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❝on my cloud, i got some space for you.❞

Chapter��Summary: the sweetest baker is surrounded by love on the anniversary of her parent's passing.

Chapter Warnings: language, alcohol, slight age gap (F!MC and Joel are 6 years apart), symptoms of anxiety and depression, panic attacks, grief, fluff, comfort, lmk if i forgot something.

Series Tags: chef! Joel, single! father Joel, no outbreak! Joel Miller, slow burn, dual-pov, fluff, flirting, friendship, eventually established relationship, eventual smut, original character, black!fem!MC, no y/n.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ series masterlist ⋆ spotify playlist ˖ ݁ 𖥔.

My throat croaks out a couple of notes as I hum along to the song in my ears on Wednesday. The calming smell of lemons wafts through the room reminding me of my mother. She always used to bake lemon cookies and cakes. Now the smell of sugary citrus envelopes me like a hug.

I take a break, reaching for my water bottle when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Abandoning my attempts to take a sip, I take out my earbuds.

When I turn around I see Chloe standing behind me, looking past my body at what I’m making. “I'm not trying to be rude but are we rebranding or something? Everything's lemon-flavored,” she points out with her thumb towards the front of the store.

Perspiration instantly begins collecting on top of my skin. “Oh, shit. No, I’m sorry,” I apologize, wiping my hands on my apron. “I don't know why I did that,” I murmur and my eyes drift behind her.

I’ve been in an odd daze all week, unable to focus and even Joel has noticed. I’m pretty sure he told Ellie to take it easy on me this week since she hasn’t been around much. Then again, she has been hanging at the Austin a lot more since the whole Thanksgiving fiasco. I can’t put my finger on it, but he promised he was going to take off and help support me all day today. I wonder if he likes lemon cakes.

Chloe waves her hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. Her brows knit and concern washes over her face. “Are you okay?” she questions.

I nod, stepping past her to wrap up in the kitchen. “Yeah. I don't know what's up with me today. I just feel weird,” I remain vulnerable with her.

Chloe approaches the island I’m standing at, putting her hands on the table and leaning forward. “Ginny, love,” she looks at me as though I should already know what’s going on.

I pick up a sanitization rag and wring it out to begin cleaning the tabletop. “What?” I snip. I hate suspense.

She bites the inside of her cheek, hollowing out her mouth. An awkward silence fills the room and I curse myself for sending the others home so early. “You usually don't work today,” she points out.

I work every day, that’s the perks of owning your own bakery. “What are you talking about? it's just Friday,” I point out when the double doors to the kitchen smack open, letting in a cold gust of air.

Leo stomps in with his arms crossed, wearing black shoes and a matching tie wrapped around his neck. “Why are you working?” he chastizes, as he gets closer.

My once slow movements of cleaning pick up in frustration. I begin furiously scrubbing a stain in the metal that will realistically be there forever. “Why do people keep asking me that?” I groan.

My eyes return to focus on the stain. The fucking stain has to come out. Right now, right now, right now. “Imogen,” Leo sighs kindly. He puts his hands on my waist, pulling me backward from the procrastination. “Let’s go chat, hmm?”

I sigh, passing the cleaning products to Chloe and following Leo into the front of the bakery. He heads straight for my favorite booth, secluded in the back of the bakery towards the widows.

“You're scaring me,” I divulge, sliding into the Tiffany blue pleather seat.

Leo’s eyebrow raises before he seemingly realizes his facial expressions, reeling it back in. Men. “Relax. Have you talked to Joel today?” he questions.

“Yeah, this morning. He said to call him if I needed anything today.”

Leo leans forward across the acrylic table. “Ginny, it's December 18th,” he rasps and his words hit me like a truck.

December 18th. The day that my parents were crushed between two trucks on Interstate 290. It was unexpected and their business ties to Europe left me suddenly alone and having to clean up their shit for myself.

It took months to secure an end to it all. Although I wasn’t as close with my dad as I was with my mom, I still miss him just as much.

They say after traumatic events there’s an increase in marriages, divorces, and disappearances. As soon as I got the call, I quit and became fully invested in doing only the shit I wanted to. One of which included opening my bakery. I divorced nursing, disappeared further from the north side, and married baking.

You knew. Of course, you knew. That’s why you’ve been feeling weird all day. My head innately tilts as I stare off into space.

My spiral of cataloging my every movement to assign guilt to them begins. I should’ve known and now half the day is gone without me honoring my parents. “I’m calling Joel,” Leo’s crip voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

My head begins to shake. I don’t want to worry him for no reason. I just need to take some time away from the bakery, that is all. “No. It's not that big of a deal. I don't want to bother him,” I plead with Leo to spare the poor single father.

Leo ignores it and pulls out his phone, unlocking the device with the face sensor. “You're not bothering. Poor guy is probably just giving you space and waiting by the phone,” he explains.

Leo’s fingers tap on the tempered glass before he puts the device on the table. I look down, seeing it’s already on speaker and the ringing fills my ears.

Joel answers after two trills, per usual. “Hey. Ginny need me?” he suggests, voice dripping with honey.

I open my mouth to decline but before I do, Leo speaks up, “Yes.” If I weren’t so short I’d reach over the table and smack his head. So instead, I scold him, “Leo!” Why the fuck would he speak for me?

“My bad, Joel. She didn’t know we spoke before I came in. Yes, she does need you. I have a meeting at 1 and I need you to come by. Maybe cook her something,” he requests and the corners of my mouth quirk up in a smile. Despite what I said on the first day of our meeting, I love everything that Joel specifically cooks.

Leo pauses and her eyes look me up and down judgingly. “She doesn’t look like she’s eaten today,” he adds and I scowl at them both.

This time, I’ve had enough of Leo’s bullshit and I kick him beneath the table. He lets out a groan, shooting daggers in my direction with his eyes. But, skipping breakfast due to anxiety isn’t a cause for concern.

Joel doesn’t skip a beat, immediately answering, “Be there in 10.”

“Thanks, man,” Leo exhales, probably glad to be relieved of his suicide watch duties for the day. Maddie and Leo stayed with me during the emotional rollercoaster of this day last year, and although they’re my best friends, I don’t expect Leo to want more. Especially when I have a partner now.

He clicks the red circle on the screen and I practically collapse on the table between us. “God, Leo. I'm going to kill you,” I groan into the hard material.

“He's your boyfriend. He's supposed to be the one comforting you and not me, right?” he questions and I can’t say I disagree.

“You’re right,” I complain one last time before lifting my head and fixing the mess of curls around my head. “Okay, you can go. I’m just going to change my clothes.”

“Are you sure? I can cancel this meeting,” he placates. No, he shouldn’t. And that’s okay. I don’t want his life to stop just because mine is currently.

I try my hardest to plaster on a fake smile, but it causes me mental anguish. “Positive. I’m going to get comfy so Joel can snuggle the shit out of me,” I tell him my plans.

He grimaces, probably from my gushy words. His dark brown eyes search my face for any sign of discomfort. Once he’s satisfied, he nods. “Alright, I’ll call later. I’d stop by but you’ll be getting fucked as a distraction,” he smirks, before standing from the table and darting out of the bakery.

My jaw drops in shock. I most certainly won't be screwing my boyfriend on the anniversary of my parent's death. But maybe tomorrow, like early tomorrow. As soon as the clock hits midnight.

How can I even be horny at a time like this? There’s gotta be some unnatural demon inside of me. I drag my hands down my face, trying to pull myself back into reality before standing from the booth. Walking over to the counter, I lean over to talk to Chloe. There are still patrons in the bakery and I don’t need them hearing about my personal life. “I’m going to retire upstairs. Let me know if you need anything. Joel should be here soon and you can send him up,” I list, quietly.

Chloe nods before taking my hands in hers. “Don’t worry, I got it. This is why I’m your manager,” she eases my anxiety.

I nod, bidding her goodbye before walking towards the back of the bakery. Tears start to collect in my eyes again and I repeat my favorite mantra. No crying in public, Ginny. You just have to get upstairs then you can let it out.

But it doesn’t work.

By the time I’m climbing up the staircase, the tears are already streaming down my face causing an uncomfortable burn on my cheeks. When I reach the top, I slide the barn door open to my living quarters at an alarming rate.

The wood smacks into the door frame and I rush into the space, careful not to let the mewling kittens out behind me. I softly shut the door, watching out for their tails with strained vision.

Okay, you’re alone Ginny. Let it out.

I don’t know what I expected to happen. I couldn’t foresee myself ever falling to my knees and sobbing on the living room floor, but that’s exactly what occurs. My chest becomes tight as I choke on my own spit, babbling niceties about my mother and father.

I don’t know how long I’m crouched on the floor when I hear my living room door slide open. My knees feel sore from the hardened floor beneath me but my tears don’t stop, creating a wet stain on my grey top. “Damn, sugar,” I hear Joel say before he slides the door shut behind him.

I look up to find him rushing towards me, joining me on the floor. His typically messy hair looks freshly washed and I can tell he's used the start of the day to tame it’s unruliness. His green flannel shirt is opened nice and low, hugging his biceps deliciously. “Deep breaths. Know it’s hard but you can do it,” he encourages, rubbing warm circles onto my back.

His words barely register and as I try to get my breathing under control, hiccuping in between breaths. With each uneven breath, I attempt to keep a hold on my digestive system and not let out a sad fart. Or worse, vomit in his lap.

“After Sarah died, I had panic attacks too. Still get ‘em sometimes,” he divulges.

His hands trail up my spine to the back of my neck. His thumb traces soothing designs into my skin, effectively grounding me. My rocketing heartbeat slowly starts to steady and I allow myself to close my eyes knowing that Joel is here to catch me if I fall. His arms envelop me from behind, pulling my body so I’m sitting in his lap.

He softly caresses my hair and I tune him out as he begins whispering affirmations in my ear. I stare off into space and I jerk slightly in his hold when Joel presses a soft kiss to my neck.

I know where I am, but the last 30 minutes feel like a blur. Disassociation is a bitch.

When I finally feel aware again, Joel is still murmuring into my neck, but this time he’s talking about our future. “We’ll always be here. Me 'n Ellie through whatever,” he promises, pausing to take a breath.

I nod to let him know that I’m actually back this time. He rubs my back and I hear a soft meow coming from the floor. Toph is looking up at me with her green eyes, seemingly afraid. “We’ll have to get a bigger place for the 5 of us,” Joel adds, and I chuckle, scooping the orange kitten into my arms.

“Thank you for coming and just,” I start before gesturing to his body with one hand. “Being you,” I finish before a hiccup roars through my chest.

Joel positions himself more comfortable on the floor so he’s sitting in front of me. “I mean it. Every word,” he emphasizes, pressing a quick kiss to my wet cheeks. I smile at him, grateful for his presence.

Toph paws at my chest, snuggling into my body. Like always, Katara becomes jealous of her sister's attention, and she comes slinking behind the couch up to Joel. She struts up his leg, plopping down in the middle of his lap and shutting her eyes.

“They’re fuckin’ somethin’ else,” Joel sneers, stroking Katar’s grey fur. I snicker in agreeance, setting Toph down in the sunlight on the floor in demonstration. Joel accepts the permission to remove my cat from his personal space, following suit carefully.

I glance at Joel’s face, admiring the constellation of freckles beneath a layer of dark circles. His hair is pushed back neatly with pomade and god, he looks edible. My heart quickens when I realize, I probably look a mess with makeup running down my face.

He catches me staring and he licks his lips before asking, “What do you want for lunch?”

My brain mentally catalogs all the groceries Joe’s bought and stocked in my fridge. He figured if he’s going to make every meal, he might as well have what he needs. He insists he’s content with us staying in our respective lanes. After all, he’s just as excited for the dessert surprise at the end of the meal as Ellie is.

Figuring I can’t be picky since I’m not cooking, I decide to let him choose. “Whatever you want. I’m going to go clean myself up and get changed,” I inform him, frowning at my appearance.

Joel seemingly notices my self-judgment and sits up, pulling my face closer with my hands. “I think you’re gorgeous, sugar,” he compliments before pressing a chaste kiss on my forehead.

My skin tingles from the warmth and I can't help but smile into the sign of affection. However, my insecurity doesn't drown, grabbing my hair and pulling me back from the gorgeous man I call mine. “You’re a liar, but it’s fine,” I murmur, using his shoulders to stabilize myself as I stand.

His strong arms wrap around my body holding me close. “I wudn’t lie to you,” he promises, and I nearly become weak in the knees from that accent.

I hum in reply, deciding it’s my turn to steal a kiss from him. I haven't tasted him in a couple days when I visited him and Ellie, and I’m starting to feel like I'm forgetting a piece of him. My body lowers until we’re at eye level, and the air between us zaps.

He never fails to make me feel this way. Thunder rumbles in my stomach and lightning strikes low in my abdomen. It’s confusing, but I welcome every second of it.

Joel becomes impatient with my hovering and he brushes our lips together. The kiss is sweet and I smile into it before parting my lips. He swirls his tongue around mine while cradling my body into his.

We continue for a few moments before I need to come up for air, and I disconnect immediately looking down at his reddened lips. I press one final peck to them before getting up, for real this time.

Joel pats me on the behind as I walk out of the room before he stands himself with a grunt. Toph trails behind me into my bathroom, brushing up against my leg with a purr as I look in the mirror.

My reflection makes me want to start crying again. My throat fills with ache as I try to stuff the oncoming tears out. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only unattractive person I know.

I push the thought out of my head and for my headband, securing my hair away from my face. After pumping face wash into my hand, I hum while massaging my face. The sticky layer of tear stains rinse down the drain and I feel a sense of relief.

Once my face is clean, I reach for my towel to dry it off when I feel something particularly fuzzy. I open my right eye, peering at the counter to see Toph's tail underneath my hand. “Fuck off, cat. No counters,” I scold my shadow, lifting and setting her on the floor with wet hands.

She wines as her paws hit the floor, and I grab a clean towel from the drawer. Why did I get two cats?

After patting my face dry and discarding the towels in the hamper, I walk out towards the kitchen. As I tip-toe down the hall, I can hear Joel shuffling about. When I round the corner, I lean against the wall with my arms crossed. It’s nice to admire him in moments like this, although he’s bound to look up towards my bathroom any minute.

As if the universe hit the play button on my vision, his eyes snap to mine. “Come,” he waves me over with a welcoming grin.

I stroll over behind him before I snake my arms around his waist. My front presses into his back and I catalog every flex of muscle in his body. His arm begins sliding with precision, perfectly cutting the potato in front of him into thin slices. “Fries?” I question out of curiosity.

“And a burger your way,” he glances over his shoulder at me before returning to his chopping.

I press myself up on my tiptoes, placing a kiss on his shoulder blade. This man is perfect for me in every way. Caring for me, cooking for me, and giving me countless orgasms. My relationship with Ellie is just the cherry on top. Even if Joel and I ended things, I’d still want to be in her life.

The realization hits me like a truck and without thinking I stammer, “God, I lo–” before cutting myself out.

My body chills to ice and the oxygen is sucked from my lungs in an instant. Joel pauses his movements and stands frozen in place. I take a step back from him, turning away from him.

I need to do something to distract him from the fact that I almost just said I love you.

I reach for the kettle to set some water on for tea, fumbling about with the top of the lid. “What’d’ya say, sugar?” Joel asks from behind me.

I shake my head, feeling the hole he’s staring in my head. If I confess right now, he might leave me like everyone does. He’ll call me a crazy person and forbid me to see Ellie.

Joel’s warm hand covers mine and I jerk, before peering down. I blink rapidly at the water spilling over the top of the filled pot. “Fuck,” I swear, turning off the water and dumping a bit out of the metal container.

I shake my hand dry before my eyes meet Joel. “You sure you okay?” Joel questions with furrowed brows.

I nod, putting the lid back on the kettle. It’s a mistake, him seeing me like this. All overwhelmed and in disarray. I obviously can’t even string together a cohesive thought.

My hands fiddle around with the stove, pressing buttons until the electric burners turn red. I set the kettle down on top, turning back to face Joel.

My face turns scarlet when I see he hasn’t moved. He has instead settled into a position with one hand resting on top of the counter and the other on his hip. “I won’t call you a liar. But whatever it is, ’m here when you’re ready,” he offers lowly.

And as if nothing happens, he moves back to preparing the potatoes. I finally exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Thank god he’s not hell-bent on embarrassing me today.

Deciding to take the glorious out he’s presented me, I slide into the bar seat across from him, ready to watch my favorite pass time: Chef Joel Miller cooking in my kitchen. His brows furrow and his tongue sticks out of the side of his mouth when he’s intensely focused.

A lightbulb goes off in my head and I realize, I haven’t checked up on his Michelin Star journey. “Have 3 stars to your name yet?” I ask as he turns to fill a pot with water.

“Not quite. Heard rumors we’ve already got 2 visits though,” he explains and his voice bounces off the large window in front of him.

I nod and the corners of my mouth turn up. All I want is for those around me to succeed and he’s one step closer to his goal. “That’s great, that’s only one more left. It can’t be long now,” I chirp.

Joel leans on his left leg impatiently and I focus on his back. He inhales a long deep breath and I can tell he’s not as confident. “Yeah,” he grunts.

I brush a stray curl out of my face before observing, “You don’t sound so sure.”

He sighs before turning off the water. “I am. Thought about what you said that day and ’m worried my employee's customer service is being affected by my words, Gin.”

Fuck, he’s never called me Gin before. What I said must’ve been weighing on him. Shit, shit. Code red, Ginny. “Joel, it's fine. You’ve made the changes and the reviewers will see that,” I blabber out.

Joel carries the pot over to the stove. “I know, ’m just stressed and all,” he says while fiddling with the same buttons I was moments ago.

My body begins involuntary twisting and turning in the bar stool. Joel takes notice of the fact that I've used the tea water as a diversion, switching off the kettle as he goes. I snort and shake my head at how well he knows me.

“Wait until you actually get the stars,” I emphasize the horror of his future.

Joel picks out a pink towel from the drawer beneath his waist, quickly whipping his hands off. “Yeah, I’ll be busy as hell."

“And it’ll be nice to have Ellie back in the bakery more,” I add excitedly.

Joel sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll have to get her into an afterschool program of some kind,” he responds.

My brows knit on my forehead watching him begin to prep the burger patties. “Why?” I ask.

He sets a bottle of seasoning down with a thunk and I know he means business. His deep chestnut eyes connect with my hazel ones and I know I’m no longer talking to my sweet, timid, Joel. I’m interacting with Chef Miller. “Cause you shouldn’t have to be responsible for her,” he grits through his teeth.

My lips purse and I cross my arms, slightly offended that he’d suggest I can’t handle hanging out with Ellie. “I think I can manage,” I theorize.

“I’m serious, Gin,” he argues.

“So am I. Ellie is the closest thing I have to a daughter. We already–” lied to the principal and staff at her school about our relationship. “Erm, she’s already here until close. What’s a few extra hours?” I finish as smoothly as possible, but I’m not sure Joel is buying it by the look on his face.

He raises a brow and his head tilts ever so slightly. “Are you sure?” he asks and I roll my eyes. If he asks again, my answer may be different.

There’s no reason for Ellie to join an afterschool program when she’s already comfortable here. “Positive. You are my boyfriend, Miller,” I conclude, quite finished with this conversation when the aftertaste from my words hit. “Partner,” I correct myself, looking down shyly.

“I love it when you call me that” I hear him say, causing a chuckle to slip from my throat.

We sit in comfortable silence for the remainder of the time Joel spends cooking. He occasionally glances up at me while bustling around the kitchen. Every time we make eye contact, my skin sets ablaze and I have to look away.

It seems childish to look away when your partner catches you staring. But he’s so goddamn sexy, I can’t help it. If I don’t look away, my carnal desires will replace my grief, and I’m not ready for that.

I wonder if Joel ever felt extremely horny and inappropriately happy in his grief. There’s only one way to find out.

I clear my throat, rapidly blinking away the fuzz of my thoughts. “Joel,” I murmur to get his attention.

He looks up from the set of plates, giving me a half smile. “Hmm. You ready to eat, sugar?” he asks, probably assuming I’m rushing him for food.

I don’t move from my spot to not give him the wrong idea. “Yeah but uh,” I start, pausing to pick at my nail polish. “Can I ask you something?” I question softly.

Joel pops a French fry he dropped on the counter into his mouth. “Anythin',” he utters.

He slides my favorite meal over to me and I just about see stars. It takes everything I have in me to focus on the task at hand and not swallow the burger whole.

“How long did it take you to stop feeling guilty about being happy? You know, after…” I trail off, not wanting to bring up Sarah’s passing so bluntly.

His eyebrows raise and he leans back as if he was physically impacted by my words. Shock etches over his tan face and I immediately pick up a couple of french fries, awkwardly stuffing my mouth full. “Two years and Ellie was the first person I let in. Then you came along shortly after,” he confesses.

I quickly chew my food before gulping harshly. “Oh,” I murmur.

“Oh?” Joel counters with a tilt of his head.

I nod, picking up another fry. “Yeah, it’s not bad. It’s just that I don’t think I have two years,” I think out loud.

My eyes scan the counter for Joel’s signature barbeque sauce, anxious to dip try it with the crispy potatoes. “Be patient, sugar,” he scolds.

Joel seemingly notices my attention is elsewhere and suddenly, a tiny bowl of the brown condiment is set in front of me. I blush and give him a silent thank you with a half smile. “Never been too good at that,” I admit.

Picking up the burger, I examine it to see which side is the best for the first bite. “Oh I know,” I hear Joel say before our eyes connect. He tilts his head with a mischievous smirk on his face that sends fire into my cheeks.

I shake my head at him before taking a huge bite of the juicy burger. The flavors dance on my taste buds reminding me of summer barbeques. “Mmmm, this is orgasmic,” I compliment my sexy chef.

He swallows his bite before asking, “Changed the seasoning. Taste alright?”

I nod, already ready to inhale the entire meal. “Joel, I didn’t know your burgers could get better. This is amazing,” I express.

“Well, if my toughest critic says it’s good, I’ll trust it,” he jokes and I chuckle.

Delicious food, passionate sex, and god's gift to humanity. I am the luckiest woman on earth.

The door flies open sending my eyes flying open and me jerking into Joel’s stomach. He groans before smoothing my curls with his palm. “It’s just Ellie,” he informs me she’s back from school.

I sigh, cuddling further into his body now that my anxiety has eased. “Hey,” his teenage daughter grunts when she comes into view.

Ellie begrudgingly kicks her shoes off and drops her backpack to the side. If her body could talk, it would scream. “Bad day at school?” I observe.

She nods, picking up Toph who’s sitting in her spot on the couch. “Mmhm,” she grunts out just like her dad as she takes a seat.

“Well,” I start, tossing her the remote. “I’ll let you pick,” I offer her the once-in-a-lifetime chance.

She snickers, “No, you won’t.” She gives me a pointed look and asks, “What are my options?”

I purse my lips. She’s right, I’m just shitty she knows me so well. “Grey’s or SVU,” I answer.

Ellie nods, extending the remote in her hand to click through the app. Joel begins practically petting me again. “Sugar, you sure? Don’t wanna see you cryin’ no more,” Joel growls lowly as if seeing me cry and him not being able to control it pissed him off.

I can understand if he needs control over something, but today isn’t that day. “Positive,” I reassure him.

He nods, before placing his hand under my head and gently lifting it. “Sorry, sugar,” he grunts as he stands.

He turns towards the L-shaped couch with his hand on his hip, accentuating his slender waist and I practically start drooling. “What do you two want for dinner?” he questions, looking back and forth between us.

I prop my head up in my hand and look at Ellie who looks particularly glum. She’s curled into the couch, holding Toph like the animal is her lifeline. I sigh, feeling the urge to punch someone for hurting my baby creep into my veins again. “El, you can pick. I already had my favorite for lunch,” I urge her.

“Grilled cheese and tomato soup,” she requests, not even looking up at her father.

Joel clears his throat and raises his eyebrow. Ellie looks up and her eyes dart back and forth between me and Joel. I raise my eyebrow at her because she should know what he’s looking for.

It only takes Elle a few seconds when she gets it. “Please?” she adds, looking at Joel for confirmation.

He nods and walks off to the kitchen, away from earshot. I look over at Ellie whos depressed body language hasn’t changed. My hand pats the couch next to me. “Why are you so far away? We both know this is the best TV-watching spot,” I invite her over.

When she comes over, she’s usually right next to me giving me all the school gossip. But maybe it’s because Joel is here. She slides over, sinking into the cushion. “What’s up, El? You look all…” my voice trails off and I mimic her body language.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “Dina,” she answers.

“Okay, what about Dina?” I ask. Fuck, teenagers are hard. I wish they’d just tell you the problem the easy way.

Ellie’s head snaps in my direction. “She has a crush,” she snips.

My eyebrows raise and I tilt my head. “And I’m guessing by your body language and your fucking tone, you’re not her crush,” I lightly correct her.

She looks behind me and I assume she’s checking to see if Joel is still making us food. “No,” she states and her entire body shrivels. The rejection washes over her face and I want nothing more than to hug her.

My respect for her boundaries overrides my need for comfort. “Who does she have a crush on?” I counter.

Ellie gnaws on her lip for a moment like she’s reluctant to tell me. I understand, after all, Dina is working downstairs for me right now. “Jesse,” she tells me.

I rapidly blink, stunned by the news. “Jesse, delivery boy, Jesse?”

Ellie nods and my mouth forms an ‘o’ in response. I nod, understanding the gravity of this queer love triangle. Her shoulder hunch over even more and I decide it’s time to cheer her up with some words of encouragement.

“You know when I was a teenager, I had a crush on a girl who was dating our guy friend,” I divulge some of my past. Although she doesn’t know it involves Madi and Leo, she doesn’t need to know that to get the point.

“Really?” Ellie asks dumbfounded.

I answer tight-lipped with a nod, “Mmmhm.”

“What happened?”

“I let it play out between the two of them. If it’s meant to be, it’ll be,” I tell her.

Ellie’s face scrunches and she looks weary of taking my advice. “Look, you don’t know if Dina likes you back right?”

Ellie shakes her head no. “Right, so don’t mess with the universe. If you’re meant to be, you’ll be. You never know, maybe a girl will come into the high school and shock the shit out of you,” I theorize.

Ellie rolls her eyes and scoffs, “I doubt that.”

“Keep your options open, El. Until you put a ring on someone’s finger,” I advise her. She’s a hot commodity and I’m going to tell her that every time she needs reminding.

Joel’s head comes into view as he bends down to press a kiss on top of Ellie’s head. She lets out a blech noise, shrugging as far away from him as possible.

I laugh at the interaction while Joel simply shakes his head. “Dinner’s ready,” he alerts us.

When I peer over my shoulder, I see a delicious spread laid out. As always, Joel has beautifully plated 2 servings of grilled cheese and tomato soup. “Ooh, that looks good,” Ellie compliments her dad, setting Toph down and shooting up from the couch.

She darts into the breakfast nook, diving for the sandwich first. Her head tips back and she groans with satisfaction. “Good?” I slightly shout from the couch.

She nods her head, already moving on to try the soup. Joel chuckles and extends his hand to me. He knows I typically climb over the back of the couch and ever since my foot got caught on the couch that one time, he’s insistent on helping me over.

“Thank you,” I purr lowly, leaning in to press a quick kiss on his lips.

When I lick my lips, I taste savory remnants of tomato from him tasting the soup. I blink rapidly at him stunned, feeling a similar wave of emotion as earlier. My butterflies erupt in my chest and my heart skips a beat, stumbling over the current.

Yup, that's definitely love.

I love Joel Miller and everything that comes with him. I love his deep raspy morning voice and the way his nostrils flare when he can’t quite get a recipe right. I love his southern twang and the furrow in his brows when he’s angry.

The type of love I feel for him possesses every fiber in my body and takes over my brain. It wraps around my nervous system, acting on its own. It takes away all control I have and I don’t mind at all.

I adore Ellie and consider her to be one of my daughters. We’ve become so close these past few months and I can’t imagine a day without them in my routine. They’re the only two people I can stand around me all the time.

Joel clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. Reality smacks me like a truck and I blush. “You alright there, sugar?” Joel questions, voice laced with concern.

The corners of my mouth curve into a smile. “Yeah, I genuinely don’t know what just happened. I look at you and my mind goes blank. I think I'm going nuts,” I chuckle, slightly lying.

When I look at him, my eyes turn into hearts and pop out of my head with my tongue rolled out like the red carpet. When our eyes connect, he makes me feel like I’m the only person he’s ever been interested in romantically. Which can’t be possible considering Sarah came from somewhere.

We join Ellie and the kittens playing by her feet at the breakfast nook and a comfortable silence falls over the table. My mother always said you know the food is good when it’s silent, and we’re not much for dinner conversations around here.

Joel reaches forward and pours me a glass of wine before pouring himself some. “Guess you two are staying the night?” I ask, pointing out that whenever Joel drinks with me, they usually end up crashing.

Joel raises his eyebrows as if he’s daring me to contest, taking a sip of his wine. “If that’s okay with you?” he questions, probably trying to hide the fact that he’s not going to leave me alone tonight.

I pick up my spoon, dipping it into the soup. “It is, but I was thinking I’d come to yours tonight. El has school in the morning,” I attempt to compromise.

Ellie rolls her eyes and groans, “That sucks, my bed here is more comfortable.”

Joel begins prepping to eat and I’ve never seen someone be so meticulous about such a thing. He lays a cloth napkin into his nap and I raise my eyebrow, wondering what hell of a closet he dug those out of.

“It’s not your bed, Ellie. We don’t live here,” Joel corrects her and I shovel the soup in my mouth. It’s the perfect amount of savory and sweet.

Joel picks up the sandwich and takes a bite, nodding at the taste. While his mouth is full, I decide to insert a suggestion, “No, but El, next time you’re here, you should bring some clothes just in case. That way you don’t have to wear my clothes whenever you want to stay over.”

Ellie responds without skipping a beat, “Sounds good.”

I turn my attention back to my meal and my mind mentally drifts off. Christmas is soon so maybe I can tell him then. I don’t want to trauma bond with him right now and Christmas is a happy time. “I cleared a drawer out for you already,” Joel announces and I nearly choke on my sandwich.

“You what?” I blurt, my mind swirling with information.

In my peripheral, I see Ellie’s head going back and forth between me and Joel. “That too much? I’ll fill it back up. ‘s just some of my long sleeves,” he stammers.

“No!” I shout a bit too loudly, my body becoming hot when I realize the gravity of my tone. “I mean no, the drawer isn’t too much. I think it’d be too much if I moved in right now,” I add.

Joel nods, content with my answer, returning to his meal. “When you two move in together, can we move here?” Ellie asks, refusing to read the weight of awkwardness in the room.

Joel clears his throat and he straightens his posture a bit. Sensing his uncomfortability, I step in to talk for the both of us, “We haven’t talked about that yet, El. But when it comes to it, I’d be happy to have you here.”

“Yay!” Ellie celebrates and I take a bite of my grilled cheese. It has the perfect amount of pull and my eyes are probably sparkling with admiration for Joel at the moment.

I chew and swallow before adding, “We’ll have to move eventually though. We need a house that we’ve all picked.” I would never sign a dotted line on a new place without Ellie and Joel’s approval at this stage in our relationship. I think we’ll be together for a long time, so I want to be considerate.

Ellie perks up again, “Really?”

I nod, glancing at Joel who has completely stopped eating at this point. “Mmhm, by then you’ll be 18 and you can have this place,” I continue my conversation with Ellie, knowing he’ll holler at any time he feels I’m overstepping.

Joel’s jaw clenches as I fight a snort, assuming he’s started stewing. “The bakery?” she asks, voice laced with confusion.

I set my spoon down and give her a knowing look. “No, El. Do you like baking?” I quip.

She shrugs, dipping her sandwich into her bowl. “Eh, it’s not my calling,” she admits before taking a bite.

“Exactly. I was talking about the apartment. You can have it when we eventually move out,” I foretell, motioning between me and her father with my hand.

“Gin,” Joel pulls my attention to him. When I glance down, his hands are balled tight into a fist, one wrapped tightly around a stainless stem spoon.

If he squeezes any more, he’ll bend my cuterly. And it’s completely unnecessary. “Joel, I’m not letting your child pay $1,000 in rent when we’ll have at least one empty apartment that’s completely paid off. Try again,” I dare him to argue.

Joel sighs but his body stays wound up. “She’s gonna be spoiled.”

I whip my head in Ellie's direction. “I don’t think you’re spoiled, are you, El?”

“Not in the slightest,” Ellie says through a shit-eating grin.

My head whips back toward Joel who isn’t the slightest bit amused by our display. “See, she gets the apartment, we get a new house,” I pause waiting for his face to change. When it remains stone cold, I add my secret tactic by purring, “alone,” into his ear.

When I straighten my back, his eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head. Anticipation flickers in his eyes and I know I’ve hooked him to the idea.

Joel’s body slowly starts to relax, but Ellie puts the cherry on top. “And everyone’s happy. Maybe Dina would move in with me. Holy shit this is gonna be awesome,” she practically bounces, and the wood beneath her creaks.

“Slow your roll, kiddo. You’ve still got 4 years,” Joel warns and I kick him lightly under the table for taking the excitement out of everything. I want her to keep a hopeful possibility of romance with Dina and he’s ruining it.

Ellie opens her mouth but I step in before the pair can start arguing. “Speaking of totally awesome, what do you want for Christmas, El?”

“I’m getting something for Christmas?” asks dumbfoundedly.

“Umm, yeah. Why wouldn’t you be?”

Ellie shrugs and a rain cloud of trauma drifts in over her head. I watch as the sorrow rain falls on top of her head and my heart drops to my ass. “I don’t know. Guess I’m just not used to it.”

I bite my lip, trying to keep it together for her. No child should have to go a December without a gift. I try my best to plaster on a fake smile to perk her up. “Well, I already have most of your gifts but I thought I’d ask you,” I tell her.

As if on command, the cloud of depressing memories is swapped for a blazing sun. “Really?” she gleans.

“Really. I love Christmas. It’s the busiest holiday for the bakery though.” I mentally curse the upcoming bustle, taking a sip of my wine.

Ellie chomps the last of her sandwich down, chewing slowly like she’s in deep thought. A sparkle comes over her eyes when it looks like she’s finally got it. “Well, some new paintbrush sets would be nice. I saw some watercolors on Instagram that are cool,” she hints.

“Send them to me,” I request.

“Okay,” she smiles, reaching into her back pocket to pull out her phone.

I smile at my hunky boyfriend, ready to point out the receipts of Ellie’s personality traits. “See, Joel. That is not a spoiled child. Madi would’ve asked for a Gucci bag and a stamp on her passport when we were younger.”

Ellie’s head perks up from her phone. “Wait, that’s an option?” she clarifies sarcastically.

“No,” Joel barks at the same time as I offer, “Ask Madi.”

Joel frowns in my direction and I quickly add, “We don’t have that type of money but Madi does and she’s always ready to spend it on someone. If you want something really expensive, she’s the one to ask.”

Joel's elbows come down on the table quite hard and he puts his head in his hands. “Gin,” he groans.

“What? Madi’s like her aunt or whatever now. She’s obligated by girl code to help her out,” I inform him, picking up my spoon. At this point, the utensil is useless. The food’s so good, I’m ready to drink the rest of the bowl down.

“Spoilin’ her ain’t helpin’,” he scolds me.

I blow the steaming liquid in front of my face. “No, but Ellie knows the value of money to know the difference between dinner at the estate versus dinner at the breakfast nook,” I say before taking a bite.

“Yeah, this sucks,” Ellie sarcastically grumbles, before picking up the soup and slurping the last bit of it.

I snicker, dipping the last of my sandwich into the soup. I never thought I could be this content after my parents passed but here I am, enjoying the anniversary of their death with my two favorite people.

I peer under the table at the sleeping cats and smile. I need to focus on the two people that I have a future with and a life with, not the two who are long gone. It’s what my mother would want for me, anyway. The girl that hooked me onto the man that I love. Fuck. I’ve got to find a better time to tell him.

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the-healthy-human-mind · 5 months ago

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Risen From The Ashes

Previous: To Hell and Back

Next: ‘Til Death do Us Part

CWs: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, aftermath of torture, blood, gore, physical fights, banter, mentions of burns, hinted human trafficking, hospitals, medically induced coma, PTSD, paronoia.

London summers were always brutal, humid and disgustingly warm. Somehow, there were still tourists crammed in every corner of pubs. John looks up from his phone when someone sits in the booth across from him, chuckling when he recognizes the blonde.

“Kate.”

“John,”

Price leans on the table in front of him, glass of whiskey in his hand. “It’s been awhile, what brings you out of your hole?”

“A Navy SEAL has been taken, I need you and one of my agents to get her back.”

Kate hands him a folder, placing her tablet on the table between them. John opens the folder, flipping through the pages.

“Wagner? Pulling out the big guns for this Kate?”

She pulls up a bodycam recording from one of the corpses found after the mission. “We’re dealing with an ally of Russians, John, and Elaine’s been taken, I need the best to bring her home.”

“How long?”

Kate sighs, rubbing at her temple, “almost 8 months. She went MIA in January, all intel gathered has fallen through since then.”

Price pulls a couple notes from his wallet, placing them down on the table before gathering his things.

“When do we leave?”

“Now.”

“You Captain Price?”

Havoc looks down at the man as he steps into the helo.

“That makes you Havoc.”

The taller man laughs, sitting across from the Captain, having to straighten his legs to fit.

“Ever dealt with the Russians before sir?”

“More than enough to know what I’m doing.”

“Eyes on the prize, boys. Don’t lose focus.”

Price adjusts the straps of his vest as the helo approaches the landing zone. Havoc lowers the ramp when they land, following after John and putting on his night vision goggles.

“This is Echo 6-2, going dark.”

John wasn’t one to mix personal life with work, but seeing Elaine, the child he watched go from a headstrong teenager to the second ever female Navy SEAL, tied up and broken killed him. He checks for her pulse while Havoc goes to cut the rope securing her arms and legs. He sighs in relief when he feels the familiar pulse on her neck.

“C’mon, Laney. Time to go home.”

When John goes to lift her up, her arm comes flying up, aiming for his jugular. The shard of glass in Elaine’s hand crashes onto the floor, shattering to pieces upon impact when he wrenches her arm away.

“You bastard— you-”

“It’s me, Laney, Kate sent us.”

Elaine stumbles, still glaring at him, but she doesn’t try to attack again. John is able to fully assess how bad her injuries are, from the cuts on her face to the burns on her leg.

“It’s ’bout damn time, thought you guys were throwin’ a party.”

John sighs, hooking his arms under her armpits while Havoc gently grabs her legs.

“A true bloody blast.”

John was no stranger to hospitals, the smell of sanitizer and the white walls were all too familiar. But it seemed as though Rachel had never set foot in a hospital before with how hesitant she was. He couldn’t blame her, seeing her only child in this state must be terrifying. The medical staff had placed Elaine in a medically induced coma to allow her body to heal — if it even could.

“If anything changes, call me, John.”

He nods at Kate as she walks down the hall, Rachel following behind her after giving Elaine one last look.

September 2017

“I can fucking do it John! Stop babying me!”

John sighs for the hundredth time that hour, leaning on the side of Elaine’s hospital bed.

“Laney, the doctor said-”

“Screw the doctor.”

“Stop trying to get yourself even more hurt, Laney.”

God, he was going to be gray and wrinkled by the time this was over. The pair look at the door when they hear the sound of sneakers against the floor, a student nurse standing in the doorway.

“What?”

Elaine hisses at the poor girl, eyes full of rage.

The nurse stiffens, “uh- it’s time for your… burn treatment.”

“Well then,” John places his arm around Elaine’s shoulders, slowly lifting her up, “let’s get this over with.”

“Go fuck yourself,”

“Quit it Elaine, you’re doing this whether you like it or not. So shut the bloody hell up and act like the soldier you are.”

Elaine goes quiet for the first time in days, and when John glances at her, she’s staring at the wall ahead, lower lip twitching. He sighs, again.

“Laney-”

“Don’t. Get it over with.”

She can’t tell what was worse, being trapped in a basement, or being bed bound and relying on everything and everyone around her to survive. She can’t even take a piss by herself. And soon she’d be forced to move back in with her moms to recover. Nothing but a burden and a piss poor excuse of a soldier.

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plaguedoctormemes · 6 months ago

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I was about to write a long-winded post illustrating how, from visiting my first pride 13 years ago with my lesbian grandmother to now after visiting what i think may be my 8th or 10th time and attending Pride across at least 4 states, Pride has only gotten more sanitized, more commercialised, more “safe” and apolitical- and thus, more disappointing. Pride in a lot of places including places like LA has become a half-assed rainbow-colored trade show.

Huge kudos to the 13 year olds running on all fours with furry masks and paws on and the sole kink booth with 3 people at it at my most recent Pride in one of the more liberal areas of the South. And Kudos to Pride when i visited Seattle more than 5 years ago that was actually a PRIDE with activism and nonconformity and radical love in a massive unorganized march down through the city. I haven’t quite lost all hope yet, but we desperately need Pride to become queerer and unprofitable. We need to agree to stop letting Pride just be a outdoors lackluster comic convention.

#the doctor is in #not plague #pride

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alostlovergirl · 2 years ago

Note

Bucky barnes or sebastian stan X innocent reader, where the reader goes to the doctor because she is constantly wet and feels tingling down there, and she doesn't know what it could be, so she goes to seek medical help, in a super beautiful clinic, with super cute doctor clothes, and still more with the nice and good doctor, bucky will take care of solving your problem in a very professional way (you know ;), 2,3,... X until she can't take it anymore, tying her legs wide open, talking dirty and manipulating her, and after finishing bucky says that every time you feel it you have to look for him, only he can make it stop, and gives the address of the "private clinic" to look for him. if there is any problem, I hope this fic is a little long.sorry if there are any mistakes, everything came from google translator

Open wide- Bucky Barnes x reader:

Summary: Taking a visit to the doctor concerning a private and embarrassing problem leads to some fun.

Warnings: Virgin reader, rough sex, rough taking of virginity, slight manipulation, crying.

Notes: I am so sorry anonymous for this taking so long. I have been dealing with a lot lately and I had to finish this quick. I hope you like it and I hope it is long enough for you. Thank you for your request!

Dr. Barnes is the best sexual therapist / Doctor around the Brooklyn area. He has dealt with multiple cases of couples with sexual frustration or non-communication with things in the bedroom. He has helped many achieve what they were looking for out of sex. Now, he was dealing with a case of a 21 year old woman, who apparently never dealt with sexual frustration in her life. Or never heard of sex. Or never had a sexual thought in her life ever apparently. It excited the older doctor. His mind wandered to a nervous, innocent woman opening up her tight, wet heat to him. To be seen by him for the first time, other than her parents. Bucky never thought of himself as a bad, uncomfortable doctor, but he has found it increasingly hard to control himself. After seeing pussy and the rare occasional virgin all damn day has had him in his office rubbing one off. So having a patient that has never heard of sex meant that maybe he could manipulate the woman to lose her precious virginity to his fateful techniques.

...

When he walked into his office with a pair of jeans and forest green sweater, binder full of files and right hand holding a black coffee, he didn't expect to see a shaking, small woman sitting in the cotton chair. She hair a blush on her increasingly not face and seemed mildly uncomfortable, squirming in the chair. ’ This was her?’, he thinks to himself, continuing past her and past the secretary booth, in pursuit of his office. She was gorgeous and her thighs would provide a great handle for him to pull her back on his aching dick.

Bucky sits in his plush seat, yawning before smiling to himself. He sends his nurse to get the young woman sitting there, waiting patiently. For a painful hour, he waits until he is ready to see her. His cock was throbbing in his pants, thinking about the wet mess that would be laying in front of him. He wasn't disappointed when he walked into a dripping wet pussy, facing the door. He had to hide his perverted side away and put on his friendly side.

"Good Morning, Miss." he says as he puts on some hand sanitizer and puts on his latex gloves. " How are we today?"

He hears the young women let out a sigh and breaths, shakily before speaking. " Nervous... ", god her soft voice was perfect. Shaky and quiet. It just made his dick jump in his pants again, but he has to control himself. ‘Don't freak her out more’ he tells himself before sitting himself in between her legs, putting his gloved hands on her warm thighs. He takes a deep breath, sneakily breathing the scent of her drenched, virgin pussy.

"Why ya nervous, dear? I'll help you out. Just tell me what's going on, alright?" he smiles when she nods in agreement. " What’s going on?"

He sits back and listens to the story over a 21 year old woman that never experienced hornieness or hormones. It's almost amusing to listen to the innocent woman laying on his table, rubbing her sticky thighs together. He acts professional, but in his mind, he was thinking of every way to " treat" his poor patient. As soon as she finishes, he scoots forward, putting his hands on her inner thighs and pulling them apart. " You know what you need? Some good old fashion relief.'' He is slowly losing his composure the longer she sits there with her pussy out in the open. " Let me help you."

He pushes her legs wide open, rubbing her inner thighs. He feels her tense, trying to close her legs. " Relax, darling" he presses his gloved thumb against her button. The little gasp she let out was music to his ears. She started to squirm, more arousal coming out of her little hole. He moves his thumb away only for thick strings of arousal wetting the gloved digit. He listens as her breathing quickens as he rubs his thumb against her sensitive nub.

"D-Doctor, what are you doing?” Her body temperature is slowly rising up as he continues rubbing her clit. Bucky smiles to himself, tracing his finger down to her opening, running it around her hole. He grips her thigh with an iron grip as she squirms around, trying to push back into the pleasurable feeling.

" You are so cute. This is all you needed to do, hun... But don't worry. I'll take care of you now." he chuckles, opening his mouth a bit, pushing his digit inside. She lets out a wanton moan. Bucky groans to himself as his cock was begging to let out of the ever growing tight jeans. He had to get a taste of her dripping wet cunt. Holding her thighs open as wide as they will go, he dips his head down, licking a firm stride along her cunt.

“D-doctor!” She lets out a gasp and closes her legs around his head. Bucky didn’t mind being trapped in her legs, close to her cunt, but he couldn’t breathe too well. He grabs her thighs and pulls them apart. He holds them tight enough to leave bruises while he works his magic mouth on her, sucking on her clit, relishing in her sweet taste. Virgin pussy has always tasted the best in Bucky’s opinion. He pulls away from her pussy, spits on it and goes right back down on her, hearing her moan out loudly, grinding on his face. His fingers climbed to the top of her cunt and pulled back the hood, giving him a more sensitive surface. He drools on her pussy, letting it dribble down on the table as he continues going down on her like a thanksgiving feast.

He feels a gushing sensation against his face, almost cutting off his airways. Bucky pried her legs off his neck and pulls away coughing. She was squirting everywhere, on the table, on him. Bucky groans, standing up, dripping wet. He takes off his sweater, and lab coat. He ties her up and smiles. “Look, you may be my favorite patient, but that doesn’t mean you can drown me.” He chuckles, shaking his damp hair. “Let me finish what I started darling.”

He starts taking off his belt, listening to her soft, quick breaths. She sounded scared, but Bucky was too horny to care at the moment. He got a taste of her virgin pussy, now he needed that virgin pussy on his cock. He needed to feel it squeezing around his every vein, every fucking inch as he forces himself into her tight hole. Bucky ties his back up and rubs his tip in her wet folds, smiling at the trembling woman, who was drooling a bit.

He aligns himself at her hole and pushes inside of her, bottoming out in her tight, warm pussy. It felt fucking amazing, the warmth made him feel like he was already about to fill her up. He grabs her thighs, thrusting inside, listening to pained groans and moans from the woman on the table. She squirmed against the confines of the lab coat and sweater tied to her wrists. Bucky moved his hips slowly, relishing in the pleasure of her cunt. “D-doctor..”, she groans out, breathly. The pleasure shot up her body, her eyes rolling back. Bucky pants to himself, eyes slightly crossing, loving the tightness and warmth.

He already felt like he was about to cum. Her pussy felt fucking amazing. The sticky, warm mess was more perfect then he could ever imagine. He looked down at her face, smiling as she was looking away with tears in her eyes and redness all over her face. He groans and wraps a gentle hand around her throat, so as not to scare the hell out of her. He turned her head back towards him, moving a bit faster.

Her hands grab onto his arm, whimpering and drooling. “D-dr. Barnes… Please… Please harder..”, She begged, getting redder with every word she said. He groans and stalls his hips, picking her up and fucking her into a wall. She cried out, scratching at his shoulders. “Bucky!”. She started to push on his chest, the pleasure became too much, but he didn’t stall. He holds her arms against the wall and pounds her little pussy, making it sticky and creamy. Her arousal drips down his cock and her legs, onto the floor.

He groans and pulls out, only to slam back into her. “Ah! F-feeling weird? L-lots of pressure”, tears run down her face. He smiles and decides to move slower. He makes sure that she could feel every inch and every fucking vein in his cock. He pushes her face into the wall as she started to fight back against the overwhelming feeling in her lower parts. She claws at his hand, shaking under him. She feels warm wetness run down her thighs and an overwhelming pleasure. Bucky kept going, chasing his orgasm. She pants, letting out little whines, being completely out of it. He kept going before pulling out of her and cums on his stomach and pussy. He coats his perfect body in his thick, white ropes. She looks at him with wide eyes, still trembling in his hands.

He gently put her down and helps her get cleaned up. She sits on the table, still tearful from being sore and confused. Bucky writes an address down on a piece of paper and gives it to her. “If you ever feel like that again, come to this address anytime… I’ll take care of you”, He pats her thighs, putting the crumbled piece of paper in his hands, smiling. He helps her out of the clinic and goes back to his office, satisfied. He is sure that she will be coming back to her every single fucking day.

#marvel #dark marvel #new post #x reader #non con #dub con #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes #doctor #manipulation

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marmie-noir · 9 months ago

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Jealous

It had not escaped my notice that Mitch was a handsome guy. Really, even with an arrest record and a prison stint under his belt he was a real catch. Handsome, talented, business owner. Hell, any woman who didn’t look at Mitch Keller with some sort of interest was an idiot. That fact did not soothe the burn in my chest when scantily clad women pranced up to the bar in their micro skirts and bralettes, grinning at Mitch and ordering another drink, giggling far too hard at whatever he said.

“That rag owe you money?” Ann’s voice cut through my glaring at the new brunette leaning on the bar with a back so arched she’d be feeling it tomorrow, all but pushing her tits in Mitch’s face. “What?” I asked, confused before glancing down to see I had been wringing a rag out to wipe off some tables and now had it in a death grip, my fingers white from the pressure. I blushed, dropping the rag in the water and shaking my hand, sighing. “No, sorry, I’ll get those tables now.” I said, grabbing the newly dunked rag and wringing it out gently this time, heading to the few tables on the side to wipe them down.

Instead of leaving me to wallow in my self pity Ann followed, the redhead perceptive and annoyingly friendly. I liked her, really, but sometimes being confronted with how stupid I felt wasn’t the best time.

“You don’t have to worry, you know.” She chirped in, leaning against the booth of the table I was wiping off. I huffed, brushing my ponytail over my shoulder.

“Worry ‘bout what, Ann?” I asked, not looking at her as I moved to another table to clean it next. She stuck to me like my shadow, red waves bouncing as she nearly skipped behind me.

“Bout Mitch talking to other girls.” “Why would I worry about that?” I asked, impressed at how casual I sounded. “Mitch is a good lookin’ guy, he can flirt with whoever he wants to. I’m not married to him.” I said, scrubbing at a scratch on the table a little too hard, brows drawing together before moving to the next table.

“Sunny, c’mon. I’m not blind.” “Never said you were.” I snipped, eyes on the tabletop I was working on, refusing to look up at her.

“I know you like Mitch.” “He’s a nice guy.” “Girl,” She huffed, crossing her arms and giving me a look. “C’mon now. I’m not blind or stupid. You know I don’t mean as a general person.” I sighed, dropping the damp rag on the tabletop and putting my hands on my hips. I finally looked up at her, unsure how to handle the situation. “What is your point, exactly?” I asked, wanting this conversation to be over.

“Mitch rarely took women home before. Now he doesn’t at all. He smiles, and is sweet, because it’s his job. But he looks at you with these love sick eyes. Like a damn puppy dog.” Ann glanced at the bar, stepping closer and keeping her voice low to not be overheard by the man in question. “Listen, I just wanted you to know. Mitch watches you like I’ve never seen, and I’ve worked here for years. You matter to him too.” I looked between her bright eyes, seeing nothing but the truth reflected back at me. I snuck a glance at the bar as well to see Mitch looking at us, eyes slightly narrowed at our interaction. He was far enough away that I knew he couldn’t overhear. I talked to Ann all the time but never with this set to my shoulders, the tension in the air between us obvious.

I rolled my shoulders back, forcing myself to relax as I avoided Mitch’s bright blue eyes. “Thanks, Ann.” I said, flashing her a smile and snatching the rag off the table, brushing past her. I dumped the rag back into the sanitizer bucket before dipping into the back of the bar and into the kitchen. It had been impossible to miss the trio of young women at the bar before Mitch, loudly talking about shots as if it wasn’t fucking 2:30 on a Wednesday.

I brushed past Charlie as well, the old man tossing me a confused look but not interrupting before I stepped into the walk-in cooler.

I let the heavy metal door close behind me, the fans of the cooling unit loud, the frigid air a shock to my system. I took a few deep breaths, running a hand over my hair and tucking some strands behind my ears, letting my face cool off and my heart start to slow.

The sound of the cooler door opening made me jumps lightly and I glanced over to see Mitch step in, brows pulled low as his eyes settled on me. “You hidin’ in here darlin?” He asked, letting the door hang open slightly, the thick strips of vinyl plastic stopping all the cold air from rushing out.

I sighed, because of course he came to check on me. “I’m not hiding.” I said, crossing my arms and looking up at him with a little frown. “Just needed a minute. Can’t have that anymore?” Mitch held his hands up, raising his brows, as if to show he meant no harm. “Course you can, just had me worried is all.” He said, deep voice full of that frustratingly perfect southern twang. “Ann say somethin to ya? Or was it a customer?” “No, no Ann is great. And nothing a customer said.” I reassured him, not wanting to cause issues over my childish reaction to being jealous. “Sorry, I’m fine. I promise. Just needed a minute and some cold air. The Oklahoma heat must have gotten to me.” I said, giving him a weak smile before moving to step past him out of the cooler. “So you weren’t jealous?” His words stopped me in my tracks. I froze, eyes on those opaque plastic strips covering the entrance to the cooler. “I’m sorry?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“You weren’t jealous?” He asked again, looking far too amused as he crossed his arms once more, leaning on one of the metal racks that held the crates of fresh veggies. Like he already knew the answer and asked because he liked to poke at me, liked to see what I would say.

My eyes narrowed slightly and I crossed my own arms, leaning on the other side. “Didn’t think you were old enough to go senile. You spend too much time with Dwight.” I sassed, my pride not letting me show a single chink in the armor, to hint he was right. Perceptive asshole.

“Funny you’d mention Dwight. He talks about you a lot, you know.” The man said, hand rubbing at his jaw while flashing me a grin, his rings catching the dim cooler lighting. Goosebumps broke out along my arms and legs but I refused to move, to go back out where it was a normal temperature.

“I don’t know what Dwight would have to say about me.” I countered. I didn’t dislike Dwight exactly, I just wasn’t his biggest fan. He had grown on me a bit in the last few weeks, that much was true, but I wasn’t about to go around claiming I liked the man either.

“Says you are a good girl. Sweet.” Mitch said, taking a little step towards me so the tips of his boots nudged at the rubber front of my running shoes I wore to work. “Said you cared a lot. That I’d be an idiot to let a ‘good girl like you’ go.”

Well shit, maybe I did like Dwight.

Blushing in a cooler was hard but not impossible, my cheeks heating up as I looked up at him. Mitch reached out, grabbing onto the metal shelf next to my head, leaning in towards me. My lips parted slightly and I blinked at him, a mix of confused and flustered, unsure what exactly he was doing. “Told him I didn’t intend to be an idiot.” Mitch murmured, low voice going even lower. I watched his blue eyes flick from mine to my lips, tracing the shape of them a moment before meeting mine once more with a grin. He was close, the smell of his cologne cutting through the cold cooler scent that was an odd mix of ice and plastic. Warm, familiar.

We stayed there a moment before he flashed me another smile, pulling back with a tomato in his hand. He tossed it and caught it, as if he’d intended to do nothing more than grab it the entire time. “Come out when you are good and ready. That table of girls left, but I’m sure Ann will bus it.” He said casually, sauntering out of the cooler and leaving me there to overthink everything he said to me.