#the friendship bracelets are understandable though

[celestialhijabi]

Rereading GtN is such a treat bc you find foreshadowing gems like this.

Gideon: if I met someone who feels the same way about Harrow as I do, I'd wanna marry them. Unless they're kinda weird, in which case we'd just swap friendship bracelets.

[timothyslucy]

spotted tim at the eras tour.

[brairslair]

just thinking abt relationship dynamics with the op boys <33

EVERYONE IS 18+ (minors dni)

a/n: currently have one piece brain rot and it is consuming me so here’s this! fem!reader and very suggestive + mentions sex, but no actual smut. NOT PROOFREAD 🙏🏻

don’t forget to like, reblog, comment, and follow to support my work! it always makes me day mwah

“of course i’m serious”

luffy:

in usual luffy fashion, one of your very first interactions ends with him trying to convince you to join his pirate crew

at first you’re hesitant, rightfully so, having just met the guy

however, you’re quickly persuaded by his happy-go-lucky personality and loyalty to his crew

after finally joining the crew yourself, your relationship with luffy gradually melts from just being friendly crew mates to being so close that you would put your life on the line for him at a moment’s notice

he seems to have that effect on people

while you grow close with all of the strawhats, your relationship with luffy is different

within a few months you already feel like you’ve known him your entire life

the two of you never have a dull moment together

while you love to entertain his antics, you also know when to stay level headed and keep him grounded

and while your work ethic is always valued on the ship, luffy can always get you to relax and have a good laugh when you need a break

eventually the two of you start to literally finish each other’s sentences, and it freaks everyone else out every time

you balance each other out perfectly

the two of you can talk and laugh for hours and not get tired of each other’s company

definitely tries to teach you a little portuguese but does not have the patience

you guys have friendship bracelets and he never takes his off

over the years, your relationship begins to grow from best friends to something more

you notice the shift far before luffy does

luffy picks up on little changes, like the weird tingly feeling he gets in his stomach when he makes you laugh

he doesn’t really think much of it though and brushes it off

probably assumes he’s just hungry…

in fact, luffy probably doesn’t really comprehend his feelings until someone spells it out for him, but in his head it doesn’t really change anything

you’ve always been his go to, and that won’t change now

the shift from platonic to romantic is gradual, natural, and if you ask robin, entirely inevitable

(she predicted this from the very beginning when the crew met you in your hometown)

he’s confident and honest with you in sharing the way he feels once he comes to the realization, and you allow him the same courtesy

he doesn’t feel any reason to hide or be embarrassed about his feelings

to him, being your boyfriend just means being your best friend except better because you get to hold hands and kiss and stuff

nothing is awkward when you start dating

it just feels right

he’s always been a very touchy person, even before you started dating

now that you’re together though, he loves cuddling

sleeping just isn’t as comfy anymore if he isn’t laying on you

definitely bites you sometimes and he says it’s because you’re so awesome that he doesn’t know what else to do with himself

he holds your hand all the time and likes to swing them back and forth when you walk together

he also likes to carry you on his shoulders because it makes you laugh

he doesn’t really use pet names for you often, if at all, but he really likes it when you use them for him

will, however, give you absolutely ridiculous nicknames that he finds cute

he has obviously never had a girlfriend before you

he wasn’t really concerned with romance or sex at all actually until you

you definitely have to teach him a lot

like what you’d like to do on dates

and how to kiss

luffy didn’t really understand the appeal of kissing, but you seemed to want to do it so he figured he’d give it a try

after kissing you for the first time he can’t get enough

definitely understands now

a super messy kisser (ofc)

gets giddy when you smile or laugh into his kisses

he smiles into your kisses a lot himself because he’s just so happy to be with you

you also have to teach him about the concept of pda and public etiquette, because otherwise he just does not care and will literally start making out with you in front of the entire crew simply because he wants to kiss you

sex is of course also very new to luffy, and like kissing, he does not understand the appeal until you test the waters with him and his mind is blown

he didn’t realize it would be so fun

it’s almost always sloppy, but he’s very attentive to your requests and desires

he takes in everything you teach him and improves upon it, because he loves making you happy more than anything

kind of a little shit sometimes though because he definitely overstimulates you without even realizing it

never intentionally mean though, but can be a huge tease entirely by accident

loves giving you pretty things he finds like rocks, shells, and any cool trinkets he finds laying around

he just gets so excited to share everything with you, and you’re always the first person he wants to talk to about everything

even if it seems as simple as finding a cool rock

other than sprinkling in more couple-y things, your relationship dynamic really does remain the same as it had always been, best friends

the two of you never take life too seriously, and just allow yourselves to enjoy each other’s company

luffy may not be the most “romantic” boyfriend in a traditional sense, but he will do absolutely anything to see you happy and safe, and you the same for him

he doesn’t need to do any grand gestures to give you butterflies in your stomach

you are each other’s safe space

the two of you said the L word to each other well before you became a couple, but the first time he says it romantically is when you personally cook a three course meal and bake him his favorite sweets to celebrate his birthday

saying those words to each other feels so natural that you almost don’t realize you hadn’t been saying it this whole time until now

will willingly share his food with you if you ask, which is genuinely mind blowing to everyone including yourself

if he proposes to you it will be super out of the blue and unplanned, completely catching you off guard

the two of you could just be talking, having a normal conversation, maybe getting some work done around the ship, when all of a sudden he’s just like

“hey, do you wanna get married?”

probably heard sanji talking about weddings or something and was like, oh! we’re in love, we should get married too!

obviously you can’t legally get married being pirates trying to slip under marine radar, so luffy has franky make you both simple rings out of pieces of sea glass you picked out

the rings have each other’s initials engraved into them

after that, the two of you consider yourselves married and the rest of the crew follows suit

not much changes in your relationship other than your titles

he’ll proudly tell people you’re his wife if you do something cool in a fight or someone asks about you or something

but even without a proposal or a ring, the two of you were always going to be forever

zoro:

when you first meet zoro, you see him as cocky, brazen, and extremely annoying

the two of you clash almost immediately

after luffy somehow manages to convince you to join the crew, the close proximity only makes it worse

the two of you are constantly at each other’s throats, taking any opportunity to push each other’s buttons

nami often jokes that “the two of you bicker like an old married couple”, which does not go over well with either of you

for months the two of you are rivals, making everything a competition to see who’s better than the other

however, after a while you begin to see zoro’s true colors through the cracks

his dedication to his craft, the respect he has for luffy, the kindness he tries to mask beneath a hardened exterior, and his absolute undying loyalty

it makes you begin to wonder why you began to dislike him in the first place

over time, your bickering becomes less venomous and more playful, bantering back and forth for the fun of it

you pick up new habits like sparring with zoro every day, telling him it’s because “the only way to beat your rival is to know his weaknesses”

or zoro waking you up at the crack of dawn to do laps around the deck because he heard you say you weren’t a morning person once, except he brings you coffee exactly the way you like it, every time

eventually your relationship snowballs into friendship

the two of you still bicker and banter, butting heads every once in a while

but now you also laugh at each other’s jokes

and sit together in comfortable silence just to be in each other’s presence

and eventually, you get to the point where the two of you can share your deepest, darkest secrets, fears, and desires, that nobody else is allowed to hear

he makes you feel safe, and you know you are with him

without even realizing it, your relationship starts sinking into something much deeper than friendship

whenever you’re off the ship, zoro is almost always at your side, practically attached to you, making sure you’re never in harms way

the two of you can basically read each other’s minds, seemingly able to communicate without a single word shared between you

neither of you are even conscious of your feelings for one another until nami catches the two of you sound asleep on the desk with your head resting in zoro’s lap and runs to tell usopp

when you do begin to realize how you feel, neither of you bring it up, too afraid to ruin what you already have

but you don’t need to

your bodies and minds are practically interlinked, bending at each other’s will

your relationship stays mostly the same, only gradually and organically becoming closer

running errands together on new islands, napping together more often than you do apart, sitting next to each other during meals, etc

eventually your mutual feelings become almost unbearable, and you finally cross the line between friends and lovers

you would probably have to be the one to make the first move, because not only is zoro insanely stubborm, but he’s also uncharacteristically easily flustered

your first kiss feels like pieces clicking into place, or feeling the warmth of the sun in the dead of winter

as cheesy as it sounds, it feels like home

there’s no conversation about feelings, or asking you to be his girlfriend, you just are

like all the seasons of your relationship, the shift is slow, and goes unnoticed for a while by most of your crew mates

robin, nami, and usopp are the first to notice, seeing you fall asleep against his chest instead of his lap, or seeing you whispering secret conversations up in the crows nest when you think the others are asleep

eventually everyone is made aware of your relationship when you challenge zoro to a drinking game at a party, ending with you getting drunk off your ass and kissing him before immediately passing out against his shoulder

zoro is not a fan of pda, so for the most part, your relationship remains the same around the crew and on islands

still bickering and making up stupid competitions to challenge yourselves, but now theres a softer, more intimate side to your relationship

he will occasionally do passive agressieve little things to rub your relationship in sanji’s face though if he’s flirting with you too much for his liking

like whispering something dirty in your ear to make you get all flustered, or wrapping his arm around your waist to guide you into the dining room

he partly does it to get a rise out of sanji, sure, but mostly because he loves the reaction it gets out of you

the bond you share is clearly special, and thats something that everyone can see

however, your relationship is much different when you’re alone

it’s much more domestic

quieter

you know each other like the back of your hands at this point, so sometimes theres no need for words

the silence is soothing

other times, the two of you can talk for hours

he’ll gladly listen to you ramble on about anything and everything thats on your mind if you want to

and he’ll hang onto every word

he’s also a bit more touchy and vocal in private

he’ll massage your sore muscles after a particularly tough sparring session

or rub his thumb across your hip where he holds you against his chest, mumbling compliments into your hair

he’s another man who never really thought about relationships until you came along, so he’s quite inexperienced in a lot of areas

he picks up quickly and adapts, following the signals that your body sends him and adjusting accordingly

sex with him is either extremely intimate and gentle, or he’s being a total pain in the ass and teasing the shit out of you

either way, he’s hyper aware of your every move and action

his main objective is always to please you, because he quite literally would do anything for you

in his eyes you deserve the world handed to you on a silver platter, and he wants to be the one holding the plate

neither of you need to hear the words to know that you love each other irrevocably

you can see it in every move that he makes, and he can hear it in the beating of your heart

when the words are shared it’s in the hushed privacy that only you will ever share, or after a particularly life threatening battle

zoro knows that he’s yours forever like he knows he needs oxygen to breathe, but he’s also not a sappy romantic like the cook

he would bring up the idea of marriage in casual conversation to see where your head is at

the two of you have extremely healthy communication, always 100% honest with each other

if you don’t like the idea of marriage he would drop the subject and never bring it up again, content to just be with you

but if you do like the idea of getting married, he would propose right then (very informally)

“why don’t we get married then?”

“are you serious?”

“of course i’m serious. let’s get married.”

the two of you would pick out simple wedding bands on the next island you docked at, stealing away for the day to allow yourselves to bask in your new beginning

the rest of the crew would also totally freak out at dinner when they see the sparkling new jewelry adorning your fingers

sanji:

as we all know, sanji is a lover of women

he’s also a hopeless romantic

from the moment you join the crew, he’s completely head over heels

he thinks you are absolutely the most stunning woman he’s ever laid eyes on in his life

while he dotes on you, you don’t really pay him any mind at all at first

you see the way he treats other women, and you know he’s simply a flirt by nature, so why would it be any different when it’s aimed towards you?

and it first, it’s really not that much different

he just finds you mesmerizing, but it’s nothing more than an infatuation

but as some time goes by and he and the rest of crew get to know you, it turns into something more

you become friends first, quickly forming a strong bond

you keep him company while he cooks, allowing him to teach you different techniques and recipes

you listen to him talk about his dreams, and he returns the favor, judgement free

sanji quickly realizes he’s fallen for you

like for real

the feeling scares him at first, never having felt so many intense emotions about one person before

but the fear is quickly overcome by determination to devote himself to you in every way

he takes care of your every need, defends your honor when necessary, and is always there for you when you need a listening ear or a shoulder to cry on

you don’t catch onto your feelings until months after sanji pinpointed his, long after you had already plummeted far away from feelings that could be considered platonic

you make the first move, and neither of you hesitate to leap right into it

he set’s up dates for the two of you frequently

compliments you up and down, every word sincere

he gets super flustered and giddy when you compliment his cooking

never forgets an anniversary, valentines day, or your birthday, and always goes all out to make sure it’s extra special for you

sanji isn’t inexperienced per-se, but he also hasn’t been with many women

however, he has a talent for this sort of thing, and his movements are smooth and fluid, never unsure

he kisses you like a man starved, gentle at first, quickly becoming more passionate and hungry because you’re absolutely irresistible

he’s handles you the same way in the bedroom

gentle and passionate

sanji always finds a way to make sex super romantic

he likes to hold your hand, and give you kisses, and tell you how much he loves you

he has a CD burned with a bunch of super sweet love songs, and it doubles as a slow dance playlist and a sex playlist

after you become official, it’s no secret to the crew

sanji is practically shouting it from the rooftops

he’s even more over the top than before, waiting on you hand and foot

loves holding you, and intertwining your fingers when the two of you go looking for ingredients on whatever island you’re docked at

loves hugs and cuddles obviously

always holds doors open for you, pulls out your chair, offers you his coat, and kisses your hand like a proper gentleman

also uses so many pet names for you that you can’t even keep track of them all

still a massive flirt even though you’re already his, and reaffirm that truth every single day

your relationship is very flirty in general

he can dish it out way better than he can take it

he gets flustered sooooo easily when you give him a taste of his own medicine

even though he’s quite eccentric in the way he loves you, he can also be really soft when the moment’s right

the two of you can giggle about stupid hypotheticals one second and be having a deep philosophical conversation the next

sanji tells you he loves you for the first time within like the first 3 weeks of you dating

and he means it 100% too

he absolutely worships you and thinks he must have been a saint in a past life to be able to deserve you reciprocating his feelings

sanji’s known since the very beginning that he was going to marry you some day

as romantic as he is, he cooks you a wonderful meal, just for the two of you

he lights up the place with dozens of candles and rose petals scattered everywhere

and by some miracle he summons the will power to get through dinner with you, before finally beginning his long speech, pouring out all of his love for you like poetry

he kneels on one knee before you, and the ring is barley slipped onto your finger before he has your back pressed against the kitchen counter

oops!

the two of you throw a little ceremony with the crew on the next island you dock at, with vows and a dress and everything

sanji refused to let you settle for anything less than perfect, because you deserved to have a real wedding

his vows are gut wrenchingly gorgeous btw

cries when he sees you walking down the aisle

he makes sure to call you “my wife” as much as humanly possible, and kisses your ring all the time

usopp:

you and usopp became friends pretty much the second you joined the crew

you both have such a similar sense of humor, and you love listening to his ridiculous stories

he lovessss gossiping with you and it’s your favorite pastime

and of course you help him craft his weapons

the two of you are basically inseperable

you do absolutely everything together

you help each other get through your day to day tasks, talking and joking your way through them

you watch him practice his aim and cheer him on

you like laying down together and looking at the shapes the clouds make

you sit next to each other at meals most of the time so that you can gossip with your eyes

but sometimes if you sit across from each other you have staring contests

you don’t know when or how it happened, but somewhere over the years you and usopp fell desperately in love with each other

everyone knows how you feel for each other, hell even you know how usopp feels about you, but he’s completely oblivious to it all

the only reason you haven’t made a move yet is because nami made a bet with you to see how long it takes him to fess up, and neither of you are allowed to “interfere”

he finally confesses to you one night after a long celebration for another strawhat victory

you always make fun of him for being such a lightweight, but tonight it really shows

completely wasted after only two shots, he finally professes his love for you

nami won the bet, but you honestly couldn’t care less

the next day he’s probably super embarrassed, but once you tell him you feel the same way he’s SO relieved

he gets flustered so easily it’s a little humorous

you barely even have to do anything to make him a blushing stuttering mess

most of the time you do it by accident

he has a staring problem because everything you do is so mesmerizing to him

you take your relationship fairly slow

he gets insanely flustered every time you hold his hand

he LOVES cuddling but he has to hide his face against you because he gets so dazed just by being so close to you

the first time you kissed him he almost passed out

he cannot believe you actually want to be with him

once he’s more comfortable with the concept that you really do want him as much as he wants you, he kisses you all the time

your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, your knuckles, and most importantly, your lips

his kisses are gentle and cautious at first, growing more confident the longer you’re together, but still always soft

the crew thinks you’re the cutest couple ever, sometimes disgustingly so

usopp is extremely inexperienced, despite the stories he tells that suggest otherwise, so you make sure to let him set the pace

when he’s ready to take the relationship a step further, he’s a bit clumsy at first, but eager to learn

talks a big game, but when it comes down to it he always “lets you” take the lead

loves bragging about you and telling people that you’re his girlfriend

he’s just so proud to be with you

literally thinks you’re the coolest person ever

you guys are still best friends even though you’re also so much more than that

you still gossip, and do your work together, and make ridiculous jokes, and are there for each other no matter what

if marriage is something you want, you would have to hint at it heavy

because he is not going to come up with the idea to propose otherwise

not because he doesn’t want to marry you, but simply because he’s never even thought about marriage like that before

it take him weeks to work up the courage to finally propose, but he would do it all “the right way” because you deserve a real proposal

takes you out on the deck to watch the sunset and then he’s down on one knee with a ring box in hand

gets teary eyed asking you to marry him, and cries happy tears with you when you say yes

you would have a simple ceremony on the ship, just vows, rings, and a kiss, and just like that, you’re husband and wife

chopper would 100% be the ring bearer and nami would be the flower girl

brags about you, and makes sure to include you in all of his stories

no matter how long you guys have been together, his wild imagination never gets old

law:

you were on the brink of death when law found you, taking you onto the polar tang to perform a life saving operation

you could barely remember what even caused the injuries in the first place by the time you woke up, but you had never been more grateful in your entire life

you owed you’re life to him

so you insisted on joining his crew, promising to repay him for saving your life, even though he assured you it wasn’t necessary

you stayed anyways of course

your relationship started out strictly professional

he was the captain, and you were the crewmate

you were friendly with each other of course, but that was the extent of it

over time, you grew closer

you started getting tasked with him with his personal tasks while he worked, allowing the two of you to spend a lot of time in each other’s company

eventually your simple conversations became staying for hours after all the work had been completed just so that you could continue talking

you bonded over similar interests and shared knowledge, realizing you had more in common than you initially thought

after that the years seemed to fly by, blossoming friendship getting stronger until you could practically read each other’s thoughts, and then one day it all became much bigger than either of you had anticipated

you have both somehow managed to fall in love with each other, and neither of you dared to speak a word of it to anyone, even yourselves

you’re too scared of being rejected and humiliated, and law is absolutely terrified of being in love at all

he has absolutely no idea how to handle his feelings, so instead he bottles them up and stores them away in the hopes that they’ll just vanish

they don’t vanish

instead they get bigger and bigger, until it’s all consuming and he can’t think of a single thing that is not you

meanwhile, you’re trying desperately to suppress your own feeling and failing miserably

the two of dance around each other, tension so thick it radiated to everyone else on the crew

you’re interactions become shorter, both of you unable to be in the presence of the other for too long before you felt like you were going to say something stupid

eventually it all reaches a peak, and while working in his office one night he can’t fight his impulses, so before he can overthink it he finally just kisses you

his kiss is heated and filled with a million emotions he doesn’t know how to express with words

your relationship remains the same outside of your shared privacy, so most of the crew doesn’t even know you guys are together for months

if anyone does pick up on it, it’s because both of you are in considerably better moods for weeks after your first kiss

he lets you paint his nails and do his eyeliner

gets really affectionate when he’s tired

he isn’t the best communicator, but you’re patient and he tries his best

law is somewhat experienced, only having been with a few women in the past, but it’s enough for him to know what he’s doing

he has no problem taking the reigns, and easily slips any semblance of control right out of your grasp

sex is either super soft and romantic or he’s really mean, depends on his mood

loves having his hands all over you whenever he can

also gets really cocky and his smile when he’s like that is deadly

doesn’t say it often, but makes sure to show you every day how much he absolutely adores you

he’s so in love with you it drives him a little crazy sometimes, but he doesn’t say that

instead he saves his smiles only for you, kisses every inch of your skin, and holds you impossibly close to him while he whispers sweet praises and confessions in your ear

when law does say “i love you”, he makes sure you know how much he means it

he cherishes your late night conversations, whispered beneath the sheets

while the crew does know of your relationship now, you still don’t really act like a couple at all in front of anyone else aside from very subtle things

you always make law coffee in the morning and he thanks you for it with a kiss to the cheek before getting breakfast

and he whispers things to you all the time, just wanting to share things with you even if he may not want to share them with the rest of the crew

your relationahip changes slightly you become his wife

he never really liked the idea of marriage, but with you, he’s open to anything that would make you happy

if you want to get married, that’s what will happen

the rings would be extremely simple, but engraved with something incredibly sweet to remind you of how much he loves you, even if he isn’t able to tell you so as often as he thinks he should

there wouldn’t be any ceremony, just the rings, but it’s enough for you

after that he’d be a bit more affectionate with you in front of the crew, the occasional peck, and domestic touches

it’s usually subconscious and goes unnoticed unless someone points it out

he can’t help himself, you’re his wife, and he’s surprised by how much he loves the new title on you

ace:

very flirty with you from the very beginning

compliments you all the time

thinks you’re the hottest person in the world and is very vocal about it

the two of you literally just flirt with each other like 24/7 but still say “we’re just friends”

pisses everyone else off

you know ace has a history with women, so you figured it was safe to assume that you simply followed that pattern

so the two of you go on like that for months, so obviously crazy about each other that it quickly becomes annoying to everyone around you

the solution? set you up, obviously

some of your crew mates make it their mission to finally get you two together

setting up romantic settings where the two of you just happen to be alone

pairing you up on chores and tasks

they may or may not lock the two of you together in a closet for like an hour

it only takes a few weeks to finally get you to crack

ace is a cocky bastard about it, but also literally bouncing off the walls because he’s wanted you for forever

he fell first, you fell harder type shit

huge dork

can be pretty childish sometimes, but in an endearing way

but he does know how to read the room and take things seriously when necessary

never fails to make you feel better if you’ve had a rough day

loves seeing you in his clothes !!!!

literally the biggest flirt and tease ever, no matter how long you’ve been together

very touchy and just wants to be close to you

despite the fiery passion woven through his personality, he kisses you like he has all the time in the world

extremely good kisser, and enjoys pulling away to watch you chase his lips and try to catch your breath wayyyyy too much

50% slutty and 50% the most romantic man on the planet

he’ll literally be making the most obscene noises in your ear and then say something so butterfly inducing and poetic that you feel like you could cry

very experienced, and it shows in everything he does

he knows exactly how to read what you need, and just what to do to have you a complete mess by the time he’s done with you

slutty waist 🗣️🗣️

king of the knee thing

loves when you give him hickeys too so he can show off that he’s yours

also pretty open about pda

he doesn’t like make out with you in the middle of a bar or anything, but he definitely does not shy away from showing you love just because there are people around either

your relationship is surprisingly mature, and you have really good communication

definitely would carry you on his back, shoulders, bridal style, or just pick you up and spin you around cause it makes you smile

if he proposes it would be planned, but not necessarily traditional or formal

he’d plan some sort of fun activity for the day, like a picnic or something, and then you turn around and he’s kneeling on the ground in front of you

would pick the PRETTIEST ring

he’d also be smiling like crazy through the entire proposal cause he wants to marry you right this second

as soon as the ring is on your finger he’s already making stupid jokes that have you rolling your eyes

would “elope” (unofficially) on an island and then see how long it takes for everyone to notice

possibly making a bet to see who catches on first

once the rest of the crew knows, he takes everyyyy opportunity to call you his wife or by his last name, and giggles like a kid every single time

asks are open!

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

All Your’n - Quinn Hughes

best friends who are 100% more.

AN: i was listening to Tyler Childers while i was writing this, so i guess if you wanna add some spice to your reading listen to All Your’n.

WC: 1.1k

CW: kinda suggestive, besties to lovers, fluff, kisses.

Best friend Quinn absolutely has every one of your orders saved.

Doesn't matter where it's to, has them all saved. and if your order changes based off mood? He's got those saved too.

He takes you on roadies, at first you were just a guest. just hanging out, chilling with the wives you also came along. now you bunk with him, it’s never an argument or “who’s rooming with cap?” it’s always you.

He always goes to the room before he picks you up from lunch with Garly’s wife. He's gotta have time to get all your snacks and drinks and goodies ready for you.

You guys met in school, at a random home game he played. wearing the other school's hoodie. He almost talked himself out of chatting with you.

“Yeah I know, kinda a sin to wear this but ya know, gotta root for where I came from.” He was smitten right then and there but he’d never tell you. He’d never snitch that the pretty girl in an OSU hoodie was what he was thinking about at night.

He learns fast what your comfort movie is - Captain America: Civil War. He sat for hours in your dorm listening to you ramble about how that should’ve been an Avengers movie, and that’s the night he told you he had never seen any. You can’t have that, absolutely not. That following Saturday, you piled in your dorm. All the snacks, with each movie laid out on your desk.

Now, he doesn't care if you aren't home, or if you're in another country than he is. When that new marvel movie comes out, bet your ass he has the tickets, your outfits and the time READY. All shows are reserved for a binge watch with him when you’re together again.

You guys totally have matching bracelets, like those string friendship bracelets we all made back in the day. You've worn them since the first time you hung out and you just make copies of them whenever they fall off.

Marvel movie binges are often. you're an avengers gal, he'll start the timeline beginning to end just so he can watch you fall asleep as soon as age of ultron starts just so he has an excuse to pull you closer to him. He swears you're just friends, but when the next morning comes and you're half asleep in the kitchen with Jack and Luke and he walks in the house with a starbucks cup just the way you want and a big smile on his face everyone is putting pieces together.

“We went to bed late, sweetheart. I got you this and a sandwich, so you’re actually alive when Trevor and Cole get here." and he'll kiss your head and walk away and Jack’s eyeing Luke and then they both look at you, eyebrows raised.

"We're just friends!" you'd swear even though your heart definitely picked up the second his lips were on your head, and how you wish he’d come back and do it again and again and again.

Oh.

Oh. Oh my god.

You have feelings for your best friend. Ya know the best friend who’s always awake when you call at 3am, and the best friend who always knows what you want even before you know, and the best friend who lets you sleep in his bed when you’re stressed because “it’s comfortable Quinny! Please.” And the best friend who just made your whole body light up from such a small gesture, and that's when little pieces click.

Your eyes widen and you’re looking right at Jack.

“Oh you figured it out, huh?” He’s chuckling.

“Jack! Be nice, she just realized something big.” Luke’s understanding, he sees the fear on your face.

“Oh god. This can’t be happening, this is gonna ruin everything. I’m gonna lose him and you guys and the family I've been so lucky to be a part of. Oh my god. I’m gonna have to change my name and move to Peru or something.” Now you’re rambling, voice is shaky and then he walks in and your heart stops.

“Why are you moving to Peru?”

Now you’re wide eyed, Jacks wide eyed, Luke’s wide eyed and Quinn’s confused.

And then when you leave your phone unlocked on the table by him, “why's that your wallpaper?" and now his heart is beating really fast and he doesn't know why.

“Oh! It’s one of my favorites, it’s kind of a big deal winning the norris and you wanted me there. Means a lot to me and I like looking at us. We looked good.” You have this soft tone and your face is flushed up to your ears and your nose is scrunched a little bit and you're just his bestest friend who he can't stop thinking about and he wishes he could call when he's alone and stuck in his hotel room, who also looks so fucking good in his clothes it makes him want to explode.

Oh my god.

He's attracted to his best friend. The best friend who looks right at home in his house, who looks like she belongs in his family. Like everyone already loves her just as much as he loves her. Like the team doesn’t automatically expect her to be his plus one. The same best friend who he calls the second he has something exciting to tell her. The same best friend who took care of him during all those injuries this season. The same best friend he can’t handle even looking at anyone else.

That's when his body moves faster than his brain, his lips are on yours in an instant.

“Can't just say that shit, sweetheart."

It's like a breath of fresh air for him when you kiss him back. Like a piece of his soul is right where it's meant to be. With you, on his lap, lips against yours. Every painful, shit moment he’s gone through leads him right here. To this moment.

"I'd love nothing more than to keep kissing you, but I know the guys are gonna be back any second and I really don't want them seeing you on my lap getting needy."

Jesus christ. Getting needy. You’re getting needy for Quinn. Your Quinn.

Just like he said, the second you're off his lap, and right under his arm; in they come.

You both look like you got caught doing something you're not supposed to, you excuse yourself, too awkward to handle the rest of them right now. Your hand is just hovering on your lips as you walk out. Quinns is quick to text you, "promise when we go to bed tonight, i'll do it again and i won't leave you hanging this time. I’d really like to see how needy you actually get when I have more than 5 minutes.”

Jack kinda cackles when he realizes how quick Quinn’s phone was out.

“Did we interrupt something, Q?"

"Fuck off Jack."

[coff33andb00ks]

vivvvv how about…

11 + 24 with lando 😊

"It's impossible to get rid of me."/"Are you awake or asleep?"

driver + number = drabble <3

maddie babe ily

warnings: disgusting perverted amount of fluff

Lando Norris is, in his own words, a little bitch.

Granted, he said those words when he was drunk and a moth flew too close to his face, but you'll never let him forget that he uttered them.

Nor will you let him forget you have video of him screaming in terror and running straight into the glass door of the balcony to get away from the moth.

It's what your friendship is based on: embarrassing moments that the other finds hilarious but no one else would understand. Like the time you spent three minutes telling a store mannequin what you were looking for, or the time Lando locked himself out of his apartment at four in the morning. He has a tendency of doing that, so much so that when it happens he shows up at your place.

Like he is now, in his joggers and slides, without his wallet or phone, smiling sheepishly at you like it isn't three a.m.

"Don't you have other friends," you grumble, rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hands.

"None that'll answer the door this late," he sighs.

You sigh and step back to let him in, pretending to be unaffected by the scent of him freshly showered. "How'd it happen?"

"Took out the trash and thought I had my key in my pocket." He looks entirely too comfortable in your tiny apartment, shirtless and his hair still damp.

Nodding, you shuffle to your bedroom to collect the spare key to his place. That he'd given to you so casually, like it was a normal thing for him to hand out an extra key, when you knew it wasn't because even Fewtrell didn't have a spare key back when Lando lived in England still.

"C'mon, you know I'll need it. Besides, you're the only one I trust to have it." He dropped the key - attached to a Snoopy keychain that you remember him buying in Vegas - into your purse. "There. Now it's impossible to get rid of me."

As if you'd ever want to.

He follows you into the bedroom and you're painfully aware of your unmade bed and the clothes you'd left on the floor. Which is ridiculous, because it's Lando, he's been in your bedroom before, he's seen your dirty underwear–

Just not at three in the morning...

"Fuck," you mutter, turning your purse upside down to empty it onto the dresser. The essentials of your life spill out, lip gloss and gum and wallet and keys - but not Lando's because that one stays on its Snoopy keychain it's special - and hand sanitizer and notepad and six pens and tissues and the ticket stub from the movie he took you to see two weeks ago and a friendship bracelet and two pads. Everything but his key.

"Don't tell me you've lost it," he says.

You scoff at the idea. You may have lost your mind, your sanity, and sometimes your wallet, but you'd never lose his key. Your sleepy mind scrambles. Two weeks ago you pulled it to give to him and–

"Oh shit it's at my place," he mumbles, clapping a hand over his face.

"Lando!" you groan, sweeping everything back into your purse.

He's sorry, you're annoyed, and after bickering uselessly you tell him to just go to bed, he can get his superintendent to let him in in the morning.

It's not unusual to share a bed with him. Lando's a clingy, touchy feely person, half the time you travel with him he ends up taking you into staying in his room. Ostensibly because he likes to talk but really because he wants to cuddle.

"You awake?" he whispers in the darkness. "Or asleep?"

You don't answer, because you know he's about to say something profoundly sweet or incredibly stupid.

He presses his face into your hair and sighs, much like an exhausted dog finally settling down for a good sleep. "I do it on purpose sometimes," he whispers. "Cuz I sleep better with you than when I'm alone."

As confessions go it's probably your favorite. But you have to pretend you don't hear it. You're smiling though, and you let out a sleepy little hum. And you feel him smile.

[wrtzia]

Girls night - Bsf!Reader x Stiles Stilinski

Summary ; Lydia and Allison are determined to make Reader realise her and Stiles aren't just friends.

Warning ; none

''I don’t know if we can call it that,” your gloss met your lips, the bracelets on your wrist ringing against each other. Three of them were gifts from the main subject of your conversations ; Stiles Stilinski.

Friends since childhood, lately that friendship was starting to become more, your feelings growing every time you were with him. You weren’t a very confident girl, even though you were acting like it, so in your eyes, him liking you back was impossible. Sadly for you, since you refused to admit it and he remained oblivious, your two best friends had taken it upon themselves to bring your feelings to light.

The red head looked at you before meeting eyes with the third girl, “I think she’s blind.” and of course, Allison didn’t deny. It had became a routine ; since that day you got injured during one of the famous pack plan and Stiles stayed at your side during three whole weeks, the girls didn’t let you forget about the way you looked at him, every day finding a way to talk about your feelings towards him and the slight blush on your cheeks when he would put a hand on your arm or shoulder. Every single one of your moves with the boy earned a comment from Lydia, Allison almost always joining.

“I don’t understand why you don’t tell him. It’s obvious he likes you too” you saw the black haired girl through the mirror, eyes fixated on her. It was easy for them, they both were in a relationship. After all, Lydia was the popular girl of school, so she had every boy at her feet, begging to be seen. Allison was dating Scott, one of the sweetest boys you knew, yours and Stiles’ best friends since always.

Stiles’s best friend.

How hadn’t you thought about that before ? If someone knew about Stiles’s crush, it was him. You turned your chair in a swift movement, now facing your two friends. From the look on your face, eyes lit up, mouth slightly open and eyebrows furrowed in determination, they immediately knew you had an idea. Coming from you it probably was a horrible one.

“Scott is our solution !”

The other two exchanged a look, agreed your plan would be a bad idea without even having heard it yet. Lydia was the first one to speak, her words met with a head tilt. “Let us know your genius plan then.”

Your voice was decorated with pride, as if you had come up with the best plan in the world. “We need to ask him.” Like that, you knew it sounded dumb, too naive, but Scott actually was bad with keeping secrets so you had no doubt it would work. Your friends did though, Lydia busting laughing as Allison sat on your bed, one eyebrow raised.

“I..Just asking him ? That’s all? I mean, Stiles is his best friend, he wouldn't spread his best friend’s secret.”

“Not to me,” you pointed at her, finger finding the place on her chest covering her heart, “but he would for the love of his life.”

When Lydia turned to look at you, her eyes letting you know she was interested, made you feel like the smartest people - which you knew you weren’t. Allison was hesitant, which was easy to tell by the way her eyebrows were slightly furrowed and her teeth were playing with her dry lip. “Come on Allison, it’s smart ! He tells you everything !”

You didn’t expect the really smartest one here to join you, her voice showing her disbelief, not believing herself for agreeing with your plan. “I hate to admit it but it could work. I mean, we all know how dumb boys are.”

And with a sigh, Allison grabbed her phone, “what should I text him ?”

A winning smile found your lips. If this plan works, you would finally be able to know if you had a chance, if your heart beats increasing every time you were with him had a meaning, if it all was worth it. Excitedly, you grabbed her phone, fingers pressing the letters with both excitement and nervousness, your feelings all mixing.

“Hey scotty. I was just wondering, just in a curious way, would Stiles happen to have feelings for..Y’know”

You carefully added your name, taking your time to type every letter, as if it would make your name look prettier, softer. More attractive. Without waiting for the girl's reaction, you pressed sent, the text disappearing to find Scott's mails.

Your head turned to look at them with a proud smile when the phone immedately buzzed back, signaling the boy had answered. This time, it was Lydia's turn to grab it to read the text, reading it aloud. ''I thought it was obvious he do''

Allison and the red head exchanged a look when you happily bounced, clearly liking this new. ''And how does that help? We already knew th-"

You cut the girl, ''No, we thought. We weren't sure ! No we are.''

You were quick to grab your phone and leave, ready to head at the boy's house, the girls behind you exchanging a look as you left.

''She went in her pajamas''

Main masterlist

[markleessodalite]

When He Realized He Loves You: NCT Dream

headcanon: what makes the dreamies understand how deep their feelings are for you?

warnings: none :D

word count: 0.9k

Mark:

He woke up thinking about you.

Its not like Mark has a lot of time on his hands to be thinking about anything other than his craft, so it wouldn’t be fair to say that you’re on his mind 24/7.

But when he first wakes up in the morning after a long week, sun shining through his window onto his messy sheets, the warmth under them too tantalizing to want to get up, his first coherent thought is how amazing it would be to have you enveloped in this warmth with him.

And that thought knocked him right out of his groggy state. How was he supposed to focus on his work now?

Renjun:

 He started seeing you everywhere. Not literally, of course, even though he wouldn’t mind that either.

He just started seeing you in all the things he noticed throughout the day.

When he looked out the window at the sunset, he wondered if you would like to watch it sometime, or if you preferred sunrises. When he saw a cute stray cat while on a walk, he immediately whipped his phone out to send you a pic. When he saw that your favorite soda just released a new strawberry flavor, he bought you an entire case and dropped it off at your place.

Every little thing reminded him of you, until he eventually realized he thinks about you way more often than a normal friend probably would.

Jeno:

He got a little too moody. Specifically when he had to see you with another guy.

Poor Jeno, the introverted loverboy he is. Leave it to him to friendzone himself by never confessing to you how he feels, relegating himself to just watching you date various guys, all various levels of horrible, and helping you pick up the pieces after.

But the last of these guys was the straw that broke the camel's back for Jeno, and he didn’t care to hide his jealousy in front of you or your new man.

Jeno always understood he felt some type of something for you. But when seeing you with another guy made him feel like a bull trapped in a rodeo with a red flag waved in its face, he realized it was maybe more than a little crush.

Haechan:

He told his mom about you.

Like a true mama’s boy, Hyuck loves to update his mom about all the big things and little things happening to him everyday.

He told her about the funny conversation he had with a girl at his friend’s party. A few weeks later, he told her about how that girl introduced him to a new game he can’t stop playing. A few weeks after that, his mom noticed a new bracelet he was wearing, and he explained that you made it for him.

Now Hyuck may be a smart guy, but when it comes to realizing he’s in love he’s a bit slow on the uptake– it took his mom pointing out that you seem to be the main character in all of his stories, for him to finally see that he wanted you to be the main character in his life too.

Jaemin:

His life started making sense.

Jaemin has always been the kind of person to just do what seems fun, or seems wise, or just what seems like an interesting thing to do.

He didn’t apply a ton of reason to the decisions he made, which led to a life buzzing with noise and discombobulation.

Talking to you was another one of these thoughtless whims, and at first, your friendship blurred right into the buzz of his life.

But at some point, he started putting more thought into his choices– thoughts of what you would choose, or what you would think of the choices he made. He consulted you more and more for your input, and with every word you divulged, the blurring became clearer, the buzzing got quieter.

He realized he wanted to have this clarity for the rest of his life, he needs you for the rest of his life.

Chenle:

Everyone else realized it for him.

All Chenle thought was that he had made a new friend, something that comes so naturally to him.

He didn’t think anything was weird about him wanting to talk to you, or you being the first person he shared good news with, or you being the person he wanted to confide in when he felt upset.

Sure, there were times where he talked to you more often than even some of his own family members, but you were one of his best friends! Of course you would be on his mind a lot, right?

It wasn’t until those around him pointed out his specific smile that only appears when you’re around, or his adoring gazes that linger just a bit too long to mean nothing, that he finally realized the thing that everybody else already knew.

Jisung:

He found it harder to talk to you.

Oh, sweet sweet Jisung.

He was already shy with you at first, but as you two grew closer in your friendship, it became so easy for him to talk to you. Eventually he’d want to talk to you every single day, all day long, sometimes until his voice felt hoarse because he’s not used to talking that much with anyone.

Then, on one particular day, it felt particularly difficult for him to get the particular words he wanted out to you. Maybe he was just tired, he thought.

Until it started happening every time he talked to you. He was too busy worrying about not embarrassing himself (even though he’d embarrassed himself plenty of times during your friendship already), and it wasn’t until he questioned why he was worried that he realized he wanted more than just a friendship with you.

[pomefioredove]

So people use Kalim, right? Like pretend to be his friend because he has money-

What if Kalim's crush is just like "Yeah I grew up poor....anyways! I bought you this gold bracelet! Probably not real gold, but I thought it'd fit your style." And is just always pulling up with gifts and little trinkets and just refuses to let Kalim spend any money 😭 I also imagine if Kalim gave them a gift, they'd just start bawling because they don't know how to accept gifts-

:3c I love a little kalim posting

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ the mystery of the magi

type of post: short fic characters: kalim additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, realizing now that I went a liytle off-prompt, sorry u-u

You gave Kalim one rule.

One rule. You had no expectations, no requirements, no shopping list.

Just one rule... that happened to be impossible for him to follow.

"No money?" Jamil asks, watching Kalim pace the room. "You can't spend any money? So no clothes, no jewelry, no games?"

It's far past curfew, but even Jamil had long forgotten about that. That's how strange this whole thing is.

Kalim has never looked so worried. "Not a thaumark. They said so!"

"Did they...?"

Of course. Jamil has thought you were weird from the day Kalim started coming home with plastic toys and friendship bracelets, "gifts" of yours. But this is just absurd.

The heir to one of the richest families in the world has days to find you the perfect birthday gift, and he can't spend any money.

Kalim's eyes are wide with thought, which is a strange look on him. "They say that my presence is enough..."

"But it's not," Jamil finishes the thought for him. Kalim had always given gifts as love- handing out gold and jewels like they were candy- which made him a treat for... well, most of NRC. But not you.

"Well... there's plenty you can do without spending," Jamil says. "You could... cook something, or plan a nice date..."

Kalim pouts. "It's not enough! Everything they get me is so... perfect... I want to do the same!"

Perfect, meaning the cheap toys from claw machines, drawings, handmade jewelry, half-edible cookies... Kalim keeps everything you give him. Everything. His room is beginning to look like the prize shelf at an arcade.

"This is quite the conundrum, isn't it..." Jamil mutters. "Are you sure I can't-"

"No! I need to come up with it on my own! They're just... so good at gift-giving. I wonder how they do it..." Kalim sighs. Jamil rolls his eyes.

"Then... perhaps I can offer some advice. The sort of gift you're looking to give doesn't come from here," Jamil says, pointing to his head. He trails his finger down to his chest.

"...It comes from here."

Though that was complete nonsense, Kalim lights up. "I-I think I understand! Thanks, Jamil!"

And then he's gone.

.

Trapped in a circle of friends and Scarabia students, you awkwardly smile at their birthday wishes.

Grim's greedy little paws dig into the homemade cake before the candles are out, getting icing all over himself. You chuckle, a warm, loving sound that makes Kalim beam. Good so far.

"Time for gifts. We do have a curfew to mind," Jamil says, and Grim laughs maniacally, reaching out for the first box.

"Actually," Kalim says, smiling as if it were his own birthday. "I was hoping I'd get to give my gift first!"

You chuckle. "I don't see why not,"

Kalim returns the gesture, and he stands on the table, drawing everyone's attention to him. Jamil raises an eyebrow.

"I'm not seeing a box!" Grim shouts, and you shush him. Kalim clears his throat.

"I'm usually not so bad at this, but I had a lot of trouble thinking of the perfect present for you... until Jamil said I was thinking too much here... and not here," he says, pointing first to his head, and then lower, to his throat.

You give Jamil a confused look, but he looks just as lost.

"So... that's what I'm going to do. Happy birthday!"

Everyone watches in some mix of amusement and horror as Kalim begins to sing... in your honor.

Without any accompanying music, he performs, in front of everyone you know, a song about everything he loves about you. Even Jamil looks horrified.

When it's over, the room is quiet. Everyone is staring at Kalim as if his head had fallen off.

Then, slowly, you stand. And you clap.

You're beaming. "That was amazing! Again! Again!"

Kalim grins, unphased by the weird looks everyone is giving you two, and he hops off the table to pull you into a hug.

"I'm so glad you liked it!"

"Liked it!? That was..." you laugh, hugging him back. "That was perfect."

"I can sing it as much as you want! Every night, if it makes you happy!"

"Sevens help me..." Jamil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Trey gives him a sympathetic pat on the back.

[aventurineswife]

may I request soft yandere Aventurine x oblivious reader?

Reader nice to everyone including Aventurine, which they are very close. Reader never understood Aventurine kind gesture that he has been gifting to reader but they accept it without understanding anything behind it.

I love your writing 🫶 make sure to stay hydrated!

Unseen Devotion

Summary: You’ve always been kind to everyone, including Aventurine. His extravagant gifts and lingering gazes never struck you as anything more than friendly gestures. But to Aventurine, your uncalculated kindness is a rare treasure—a gamble he refuses to lose, no matter what it takes. As he balances his carefully maintained charm and the possessive emotions bubbling beneath, you remain blissfully unaware of the depth of his devotion and the lengths he’ll go to keep you by his side.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Soft Yandere!Aventurine, Oblivious!Reader, Fluff with Dark Undertones, Slow Burn, Possessive Behavior, Emotional Tension, Unrequited (for now?).

Warnings: Subtle manipulation and possessive tendencies, Themes of obsession hidden behind a facade of charm, Reader is oblivious to the deeper intentions behind Aventurine’s actions, Mild jealousy and internal conflict.

You always had a way of making everyone feel seen, even someone like Aventurine. Despite his reputation for manipulation and his air of untouchable charm, you treated him with the same warm kindness you offered to everyone. It wasn’t just an act of naivety—it was genuine. You listened to him, laughed at his jokes, and smiled at him in a way that softened the edges of his fractured soul.

For Aventurine, who spent a lifetime mastering the art of deception and power, you were a perplexing enigma. Your kindness wasn’t calculated. Your smiles weren’t strategic. And that scared him more than he would admit.

“Another gift, Aventurine?” you asked one afternoon, staring at the ornately wrapped box he placed in your hands. It was the fifth gift this month—an elegant bracelet inlaid with gemstones, each one catching the light like a kaleidoscope.

Aventurine smiled, his eyes glinting. “You make it sound as though I’ve spoiled you. Can I not express my appreciation for someone so... important?”

You laughed softly, brushing off his intense gaze like it was nothing. “You’re too kind. I’m not used to being treated so lavishly.”

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? You weren’t used to it. His extravagant gifts—bracelets, rare books, delicate silks—they didn’t seem to register to you as anything more than tokens of friendship.

It was maddening.

Aventurine watched you from across the room during a private IPC gala, his fingers idly adjusting the choker around his neck. His usual air of confidence was shadowed by a subtle tension. He saw how you smiled at the others, chatting warmly with executives and aides alike.

Why did you have to share that light with everyone?

It wasn’t that he didn’t want you to be kind. He adored your warmth, your unyielding goodness. But watching you offer it so freely made his chest tighten with something dangerously close to jealousy.

And yet, when you approached him, your smile aimed solely at him, he felt his composure return.

“Aventurine,” you said brightly, holding up the bracelet he’d given you earlier. “I wore it tonight. It’s beautiful.”

He smirked, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “It suits you. Though I must say, it pales in comparison to your radiance.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Flattery won’t get you out of dancing with me.”

His smile froze for a fraction of a second before he offered you his hand. “How could I refuse such a tempting offer?”

As the evening progressed, you remained oblivious to the intensity of his gaze, the way his hand lingered on your back, his words carefully chosen to keep you by his side. Aventurine thrived in control, but with you, it felt like every moment was a gamble.

He couldn’t lose. Not you.

Later that night, you found yourself alone on one of the balconies, the cool breeze brushing against your skin. Aventurine appeared beside you, his overcoat draped elegantly over his shoulders.

“It’s a bit cold for you out here,” he remarked, pulling the coat off and settling it over your shoulders without waiting for permission.

You blinked at him, momentarily startled. “You didn’t have to—”

“I wanted to,” he interrupted, his voice softer than usual. “I always will.”

You gave him a grateful smile, utterly oblivious to the way his words carried a deeper weight.

“Aventurine, I don’t know how to thank you for everything. You’ve been so kind to me... too kind, really. I don’t deserve—”

“Stop.” His voice was sharp, but his expression remained composed. He stepped closer, his eyes holding yours with a rare intensity.

“Don’t you dare say you don’t deserve kindness. Not after everything you’ve given me without even realizing it.”

You blinked, taken aback. “I... I’m not sure what you mean.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it. “Of course you don’t. You never see it, do you? How much you matter. How much I—” He stopped himself, exhaling through his nose.

He reached out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Never mind. Just... promise me you’ll keep wearing the bracelet.”

You nodded, confused but touched by the raw emotion in his voice. “I promise.”

That night, Aventurine stayed by your side until you returned to your quarters, ensuring you were safe and comfortable before leaving. As he walked away, his usual smile faltered.

You didn’t see it. You never saw it.

But that was fine. For now, he was content to wait. Because no matter how long it took, you were a gamble he refused to lose.

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Playing with fire's only gonna get you burned. Unless you're, like, into that kinda thing.

kai parker x reader

summary: things have been disappearing from your room lately, but never would you think kai is the one to blame.

tags: 1994 prison world, friends to lovers, snooping (it's very 'fuck around and find out'), mild argument, sexual tension, touch starved, kissing, touching, playful sex, teasing, fingering, vaginal sex, relatively mild smut, overstimulation, cuddling

word count: 5.5k

a/n: this fic is sponsored by wellbutrin... kidding. but that's the only reason i've actually been able to sit down and focus / write lately. this was requested eons ago, and with the greatest guilt, i'm just now posting it. also, i wrote it in a day. as in, today. i hope it's okay. <3

It started out innocently. A curious snoop in a big, almost-empty mansion, inhabited by two abandoned people left here by their families. 

He hadn’t expected her to go digging around in his stuff, and she didn’t think he’d come home early. Both were wrong. And as the thin material slips from beneath her fingertips in shock, he gives her an indescribable look. His nails rap on the wood of the doorframe and she stands, speechless. 

“Uh…”

“Hey, princess. Like what you see?”

-------------------------------------------------

The Salvatore Boarding House is where you found him. You wandered for some time before running into him and finding his company relieving. 

Of course, getting to trust Kai took some time. You found common ground in the fact that you both were hated by the Gemini Coven. Both had been sent here by them; Kai, sixteen years ago, you, only one, and both had been frowned upon by their families. But while you shared the same enemy, you were afraid for a while that Kai would be an enemy, too, considering what he did to be sent to the prison world. Apparently, as reported by his own tongue and the daily paper, he had slaughtered four of his siblings in an attempt to kill the youngest two. He didn’t feel much sorrow, nor regret, over his actions, and explained his methods of killing with a rather monotone voice. When asked if he’d kill you, he shrugged. 

“No point in doing that, really. It’s not like you can die, anyway.”

And that was that. 

For weeks, you feared him, but he got better as the days passed. Kai’s actually pretty funny and can cook well. And though you’ve never said it out loud, he’s pretty cute, too. Over time, your companionship turns into a friendship. You swap stories about your past and come to understand each other better. As cold as life has made him, you don’t think he wasn’t always that way. The more you grow to trust him, you start to see a side you’re not sure he’s even seen in himself for years. Sometimes you forget you’re all alone in a prison together, save for the fact you’re the only ones there. Sometimes, it doesn’t feel like a sentence for a punishment you both may or may not deserve. 

But lately, something’s been off.

It’s not that anything’s changed about Kai, but more so that it just feels… different. The young witch is the same playful, unserious boy you’ve known for months, but a few times, you’ve caught a glimmer in his eye you can’t quite decipher. He’s a troublemaker for sure, and though you’ve never seen malicious behavior, your head is filling with questions if he’s capable of some other kind of behavior you haven’t considered. 

Basically, things have been disappearing from your closet. Your favorite bracelets, a few lip balms, and clothes, even some you know you threw in the laundry bin. For a bit of time, you blame it on the same-day repeating thing. Maybe the gloss you stole from the department store has just been returned to its original spot to be sold. Maybe yesterday’s pair of underwear went back to the bottom of your drawer. Maybe the shirt you wore when you entered the prison world got swept through some portal back to the real world, because you hadn’t worn it here yet, so it must not be able to exist. 

One morning, ruminating thoughts swirl in your mind as you try to mentally explain the disappearances. It’s a rather new thing - within the last few weeks - and nothing like this had happened in the first couple months you were still roaming the empty earth. 

At the kitchen counter, you must seem lost in thought, because Kai shuffles a pancake off his spatula and onto your plate then nods. “What’s up?”

“My clothes are disappearing.”

“What?”

“Have you ever had that happen to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Out of my room. I’ll toss a shirt in my hamper, and it’s gone. My favorite chapstick isn’t in my nightstand drawer anymore.”

“Weird.”

“You’ve never lost anything?”

“I mean… misplaced things, yeah. But I know I just put them somewhere where I can’t remember where I put them, y’know? Maybe that’s it.”

“Maybe.” You take a bite of the food and smile up at him. “Ooh, perfect! Thank you.”

He returns the smile with a wink that makes you shyly look down. You eat in a comfortable silence, omit the CD player beside you being just barely audible; Billie Joe Armstrong whispers uncharacteristically rather than shouting into your ear at nine in the morning. 

He starts to speak again while gathering the dishes. “Hey, I need to take a quick trip to the store today, want to come?”

“Wait, why? We just went?” You ask, frowning. 

“That house down the street had a cookbook I’m borrowing-” you chuckle at the word choice, “-and I’m gonna try one of the recipes in it, but we need, like, half the things in it.”

You think about it. Going grocery shopping with him is always an entertaining experience, but you were planning on flipping your room inside out to look for your stuff instead. The most recent thing to disappear was one of your favorite underwear sets, and if you don’t find it, it’ll drive you crazy. Explaining this, though, sounds ridiculous, so you make an excuse. With a shrug, “don’t really feel like being cold today.” Despite no one around to operate it, Bell’s refrigerator section stays cold. 

“You have a jacket. Or you can borrow one.”

“You always take, like, ten years in there, and the cold seeps through eventually.”

He gives you a sassy look, but it’s true, so he knows he can’t really argue. “Alright.”

“Plus if you’re trying a new recipe, it’s going to take even longer for you to find everything you need. And then the recipe won’t have enough detail, so you’ll sit there for five minutes, debating if you should use brown sugar or light brown sugar.”

“Okay, you’ve made your point!” You smile in satisfaction. “I’ll go by myself. Won’t take more than an hour.”

“Two, maybe.”

He glares at you, but you only laugh. Kai, by now, is harmless to you. You can poke and prod him all you want and know he won’t hurt you. Maybe if his family put a little trust in him, they would’ve known that, too. 

“I’m leaving in ten.”

“Okay. Be safe from any vortexes that could contain aliens coming to invade our planet.”

He stares at you, then gives a playful roll of his eyes. You laugh. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It doesn’t make sense. You’ve flipped your room about a thousand times in the last hour and nothing, not a single one of your lost items have appeared. It’s actually driving you insane. On second thought, you might be going insane. You know internally that stuff doesn’t just disappear in this world. Some things might return to the way they were before - the Dookie album annoyingly starts at “Burnout” every morning that Kai presses play; the grocery store is always fully stocked, no matter how many bags of chips you take in a single day - but things don’t just get lost. The prison world has structure, in its own extremely aggravating way. If something’s missing, you lost it. 

But you’ve flipped your room three times to no avail. If something’s missing, it must not be in your room at all. You sigh, sitting in the middle of your now-messy room, and think. It is possible that they got mixed up in the laundry with Kai’s stuff and neither of you noticed. Of course, that doesn’t account for your two missing chapsticks, but maybe those were in pockets that ended up in the laundry, too. You crinkle your nose at the thought. If that’s the case, that chapstick and the hoodie it’s in are definitely ruined. 

With the new idea in your mind, you head to the laundry room to check it out. It’s a rather long walk down the hall and to your left, making you wonder, again, whose house - sorry, mansion - this is in the present day, and could they be living here now, in the real world? You and Kai have talked about it before, made bets on the residents’ identities and personalities. Kai thinks it’s the mayor’s, and that he’s some oldish rich guy with a trophy wife, who needed to live far away from his “village” to exude “dominance,” as if this were the middle ages. That, or a thousand year old witch who moved out here to never be bothered. You swear it’s vampires, but he always shakes his head, “that’s not a thing.” You think otherwise.

But regardless of who lives in the house, you can both agree it’s an insane amount of house for anyone. Though, neither can complain about the dungeon in the basement. It’s a nice touch. In fact, every house should have one. 

The laundry room checks out to be clean. There’s not a single sign of anything missing or out of place, and by this point, you just feel like giving up. Maybe the laundry ate them in the way it always seems to eat one sock. Oh well, because the constant search is only stressing you out. You stand there bored for a moment while trying to think of something to do. You could read; the library downstairs must have a thousand different books. Or, you could snoop the mansion. Kai’s shown you tons of stuff he’s found over the years: diaries, letters, secrets. Whoever lived here has quite the story to tell, but those things aren’t always easily found. The letters had been hidden in books, and between closely stacked books, and the most telling diary he’s found was in the floorboard of the furthest room on the right. Surely there’s more that Kai hasn’t discovered yet. 

You decide, then, that the best entertainment will be to snoop around the old Victorian home, because… why not? You can’t settle down enough to read, and when has anyone not had fun digging into other people’s business? After all, that’s what got you sent to the prison world in the first place. 

A part of you is most curious about the dungeon, so you decide to start there when something in the corner of your eye makes you pause. A lock, uncharacteristically on Kai’s bedroom door. It’s odd, considering the openness between you two; you’ve never felt the need to hide things from each other, and you’re not sure when he started feeling differently. You stare at it, curious and a bit hurt, before inserting your nail into the hole on the bottom. Again, you ended up here by pissing off one Parker, what’s stopping you from egging on another? And what would Kai possibly do to you that would hurt you? Like you told yourself earlier, towards you, he’s completely harmless. 

In a couple minutes’ time, you finally free the lock of its duty and push the door open. Inside, it looks normal. He’s always been clean and his room is no exception. You’ve seen it before, when he didn’t feel the need to put a suspicious lock on it, and it looks the same then as it does now. Still… that little weasel is hiding something, and you’ll be damned if you don’t at least peek. You step further inside, leaving the door wide open so you can hear if he comes back. 

To your displeasure, a five minute search yields no secrets. You’ve looked under his bed, in his drawers, and everywhere else that’s definitely invading his privacy, but hey, you were under the impression that there was no privacy in the prison world. You start your way back to the door, but then open the closet you had previously ignored, just in case. It checks as normal, but then… up high, in the corner, sits a little box out of reach. And by out of reach, you mean even for Kai, who’s rather tall, meaning even he would need a stool to retrieve it. Curiosity quickly gets the better of you and you fetch the nearest stool to grab it. Something this well hidden must be fun. And who knows, maybe it’s the residents’ mystery box, and Kai doesn’t even know it’s there? At least, that’s what you tell yourself to excuse your nosiness. 

Though, immediately upon opening it, that’s proven to definitely not be the case. 

A whiff of perfume floods your nose the moment you take off the lid. It’s familiar, and warm, and quickly, you realize it’s yours. Then, your heart drops at the first thing inside - something he should not have, and frankly, shouldn’t even exist -  which is a polaroid of you. Specifically, of you on your side, asleep, bare chested, with your comforter just barely covering your hips. Your spine is the main focus of the shot, but a little bit of your exposed breast shows. You drop it with a gasp. It flutters down and lands in a different place than where you had picked it up, revealing more. Each polaroid in the stack shows more and more of your body in every shot. Sometimes, your breasts are covered by a thin, lacy piece, but more often than not, your top is completely bare. Your comforter, luckily, stays at your hips, and the one or two times it slips further, you’re covered in your favorite floral set, but then you pause. That particular set disappeared a while ago, and now, you think you know why. 

Dropping the polaroid, you remove all the photos from the box to reveal what’s hidden underneath, and oh, does it shock you. Instantly, you eye your favorite set, causing you to swallow hard. Your perfume’s also in the box, alongside all your missing items: your chapsticks, bracelets, and three more pieces of your clothes. That rat. He’s been taking your things the whole time! Then giving no more than a shrug when you bring it up. Kai has been sneaking into your room at night, taking pictures of you and stealing your things, then acting none the wiser in the day. You try to feel angry, but you’re more shocked than anything. 

Hesitantly, you pick up a pair of your underwear, inspecting it as if you can’t believe it’s really there. You roll your eyes in disbelief as it slips off your finger, back down into the incriminating box. 

A knock raps on the doorframe. You freeze; you hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Hey, princess,” Kai says, standing there, “like what you see?”

Your mouth falls open, a thousand words rising up your throat, but none of them coming out. You were shocked before, but then his sudden entrance and his laidback reaction makes you angry, and when he stands there, waiting for your response, you only find yourself shocked again. Surprised, that he’s found you digging through your stuff, yet doesn’t seem to care. 

That is, unless, the anger is bubbling underneath his fond smile. You know that Kai has an unpredictable edge to him. Sometimes, he’s quiet in his anger and lets it stew before exploding. You’ve only been on the receiving end of it once, ages ago, when you were still getting used to each others’ routines and you got too much in his way. You’ve seen it since then, but not directed at you: his father, mostly; his lack of magic; his misguidance about the world. But sometimes, oftentimes, he’s short in patience and snappy in reaction. He responds to disruption the same way his father does: suddenly, mercilessly. It’s all he knows, after all. 

But the Kai standing in front of you now, watching you, is neither of those things. He doesn’t seem angry or agitated. Caught off guard, certainly, but while that look is interpreted through his eyes, a small smile counters it. You stare a bit longer. Amused is more like it. He’s amused by your reaction. By you finding your clothes in his room and having no idea how to react to it. Initially, his posture held some indignation, probably because you were going through his stuff and had picked the quite secure lock to do so, but any ill feeling dissipates at the look on your face you’re sure is amusing to him. 

You try to replace your shocked look with a stern one. He only laughs. 

“Want to tell me why my stuff is in a box in your room, which was locked, by the way, not sure if you’re aware. Since when do we lock our rooms, Kai?”

He looks surprised by your sudden snap. Good. Unfortunately, he recovers quickly. 

“Want to tell me why you’re going through my stuff in the first place?”

You scoff. “I think the more pressing matter is the fact that you’ve been stealing my clothes! And- and- not only stealing, but look at this-” you toss a polaroid at him as if he hasn’t seen, taken, them himself- “how long have you been lurking in my room while I’m asleep?! Taking pictures of me sleeping? Not caring if I’m literally nude in half of them?!”

“I’d argue the nude ones are the best ones,” he says with a shrug. 

You scoff again. “What would possess you to do this? Why are you taking my stuff?”

“Y’know, princess… What’s funny to me is that your questions are just questions.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“You’re asking questions simply to know the answers. A playful curiosity. There’s no anger in your tone, no spite in your words.”

“Oh, I’m angry, Kai. I’m pretty fucking pissed off right now.”

He only chuckles. “Still not hearing it. See, I know anger. Anger’s my father, who has a harsh bark but a nastier bite. You, my angel,” he crouches down in front of you now, “have no bite.”

“Fuck you.” You push his shoulder. He barely sways, but you were kind of hoping to knock him over. You wait a moment, then try again. 

Kai, though, easily predicts your actions and grabs your wrist as soon as it comes within his reach. He holds on with a tight grip and you almost lose your balance. 

“Let go,” you grumble, raising your other fist. It only makes it halfway before he grabs that one, too. “Kai.” You struggle in his hands. “What the fuck? Let go of me.”

“Ah, ah.” He tilts his head to the side, a look that means nothing but trouble. “You were a bad girl to go through my stuff.”

“It’s my stuff, actually.”

“It became mine the minute it crossed the threshold of this house. You became mine.”

“What the fuck does that mean? This isn’t even your house!”

“But it is my prison world. Built for me when I committed a crime so heinous, they felt the need to lock me up. But you… what are you in here for? Stealing a book?”

“It was a grimoire, you fuck. Your father’s. So clearly my crime was equally heinous and they sent me here, too. The moment I got dropped here, this no longer became just your world.”

“You raise a good point. But still, I was here first. And I’m the oldest of my siblings, so I can tell you what to do.”

“You have a twin,” you counter, “who’s probably older than you by now, considering neither of us have aged, and you’ve been here sixteen years already. She’s probably… thirty-eight by now? Probably married, has some kids, a nice house.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, tightening his grip on your wrists. They burn, but it doesn’t bother you. Egging him on is more fun. The tight cord of his control is breaking. 

“I’m just saying. Oh, and your younger twins, the two you didn’t get to kill. They’re, uh, twenty, now, I think. I saw them, actually, when I broke into your father’s house. They’re both blonde, wherever that gene came from.”

“Y/N-”

“Jo wasn’t there. Not sure where she went. Probably does have a house somewhere. Somewhere far, far, away from fucking Portland. Good for her, that place is a shithole.”

His grip tightens, his body almost shaking with anger now. “Stop. Talking.”

“Or what? Are you gonna attack me?” You put on your best puppy eyes. “Show me your bite’s worse than your bark? Because I’m just proving to you that I can bite. Don’t like it, do you? Yeah, well, I didn’t like finding my lingerie in a box in your room, but I guess we all can’t get what we want.”

Whether it was your words or the sass in your tone, he finally breaks. With a sudden force, Kai pushes your fists into your own chest, knocking you to the floor. You gasp a little as your head hits the wood, but you have no time to dwell on it as he climbs on top of you, pinning your fists now over your head. 

“You want to see me bite, is that it? Don’t think I have it in me because you’ve never seen it for yourself? I can be ruthless, Y/N, I can make you regret-” he pauses, jaw dropping as he realizes you’re giggling. 

“Regret what?” You urge. “Were you saying something?”

“You’re playing with fire, Y/N.” His eyes are dark, but not in a way that scares you. Instead, his pupils are dilated so much they look dark. He stares into you desperately, gaze fighting between your lips and your neck, as if unsure where to attack first. 

“And yet I’m just a girl, laying under a boy, asking to get burned.”

He doesn’t get the quote. It’s after his time. But the message is clear: you’re under him and you’re not fighting to get up; you provoked him enough just to send him off the edge; you were never really that mad about the pictures or the clothes. 

He pauses. Okay, maybe you were a little mad about it. He did go out of his own way to creep across your boundaries. But still… had he not, you would’ve never ended up in this position. You should probably thank him for that. 

You swallow, with difficulty because of the way you’re laying, and his eyes drop to the bob in your throat. He snaps out of a daze. 

It happens before you know it, his lips on yours. He starts soft, waiting for you to reciprocate, and the moment you do, he gets rougher, more confident, as if this is something he’s always wanted, but he’s so unfamiliar with being able to touch, that he holds back at first. 

You’re much less hesitant, though. You offer kindness to him through your words, but you’ve never touched him much, knowing how foreign it is to him. You’ve wanted to give in, to hug and hold him and kiss his cheek before you go to bed, but you were never sure how to bring it up. He’s guarded in his emotions. They’re there, but they’re locked away with a key you haven’t been able to pick. But this, maybe, is the first step. 

You’re not sure when you stood up, or if he picked you up, but in a second, you’re off the wood and plopped down on his bed. The pillow beneath you smells like your perfume and you raise an eyebrow at him. He tilts his head again - no comment. He’s kissing you again before you can say anything, effectively distracting you from the whole thing. One hand props himself up over you, while the other lightly grasps your neck. Both of your hands are tangled in his hair, scratching and pulling gently. You break the kiss, out of breath, and he trails his lips down your neck instead. Your back arches instinctively, and a giggle escapes your throat at a sweet spot. In a matter of seconds, he sucks a bruise into your skin before moving down further. Your shirt, very much in the way, is pulled up and off, followed by your shorts. You copy the action, pulling his own off him and immediately letting your hands explore his chest. It’s only fair, you think, considering all the times he’s welcomed himself to the sight of your body. 

Distracted, you miss him pulling off your underwear until they’re dangling on one finger in your face. You tilt her own head in confusion, then feel your jaw drop as he throws them in the box. 

“Mine.” He winks.

“No! Kai-”

You’re cut off by your own moan, provoked by the feeling of his touch on your bare body. He smiles, clearly pleased with himself, and touches again. 

“Those are mine,” you try to argue. 

“Are they?”

With a new bite, you lunge forward and surprise him, bringing him pause. You take control for thirty seconds, unbuckling his belt and sliding off his jeans and boxers. A gasp escapes his throat, the cold air hitting his cold, now exposed body, in addition to you seeing him for the first time. 

“These are mine then.” You toss his jeans on the floor, but keep his boxers like a prize in your hands. 

His look is unimpressed. “You wish.” He tackles you easily, prying the material out of your hands to ball up and throw, laying you back down, crawling over your body, licking his lips, eyeing you like prey. It happens too fast for you to react, and before you know it, you’re forced back into submission, him dominating easily. 

“Y’know, for someone not used to touch,” you pant, relishing in the feeling of his lips around your nipple, “you sure seem to know what you’re doing.”

“Instinct, baby.” 

“Oh, really?” 

He shuts up any further remark by meeting his body to yours, erect cock rubbing against your clit in a way that turns your brain to mush. “Yeah, really.” You don’t fight back this time. “So easy to please,” he mutters, his fingers moving to your clit at the feeling of precum rising up. 

“Stop teasing,” you whine, growing desperate. 

“Not teasing, princess. Just getting you ready.”

Pressure builds like a coil low in your stomach. You squirm, arching your back and shivering in pleasure, at the same time you mutter, “don’t stop.”

“Don’t move, then, baby.”

You try your hardest to listen, but it’s almost impossible with the way he’s touching you. The long fingers you’ve always admired rubbing in perfect circles. The lust in his eyes as he draws you closer and closer. The wetness on your thigh where his aching cock drips with its own need. 

“Kai-” you cry for a second as he stops. He spits on your clit, then laps it up with his tongue, sucking now, while his fingers open you up below. “Fuck.”

“You okay, princess?”

“Mhm,” you nod weakly. 

The coil’s so close to snapping. You won’t survive much longer, not with the way his tongue works so beautifully against the sensitive spot, and especially not when he looks up at you from his position, eyes still dark with lust, yet focused, as if this is the most important thing in the world. 

“Kai-”

“Mhm?” He asks without detaching. The vibration that it causes is what finally breaks you. With an eager moan, you finally come, the force of it shaking your legs and core. Kai sucks you through it and only lets up when you start begging, “please, please, please, I can’t-”

He ceases, and immediately crashes his lips onto yours, letting you taste yourself in his mouth. 

“You okay?” He asks between wet, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, good girl. Ready?”

“Please.” 

Of course he can’t deny you when you ask so politely. 

With a deep kiss, he distracts you enough to push in. You take him well until you’re almost full, gasping into his mouth and sinking into the mattress. You squirm a bit more, body reacting to the sudden intrusion, but settle around him soon enough. 

“We’re good?”

“Good.”

“Let me know if you need to stop.”

He starts slowly, pulling out a little ways and pushing back in, kissing you sweetly as he does. But then as your body adjusts and clenches around him, he picks up the pace to an even speed. His mouth drops from your lips to your neck, sucking more bruises into your delicate skin. You keep your hands tangled in his hair, pulling, grasping, moaning more as the pressure starts to build again. 

“Y’know,” you stutter, trying to speak as he thrusts. “Making me come once isn’t going to make up for you stealing my underwear.”

You can feel his smile grow against your skin. “Oh really?” He presses a kiss to your neck. “How about twice? Three times? Four?”

The color drains from your face at the thought of coming four times in one day. You really need to learn to stop challenging him. “I-”

“Yeah, four sounds good. Let’s try for that.”

He has slowed down a little to make conversation, but as soon as his mind is made, he picks his pace back up. His troublemaking smirk stares into you, waiting to see if you’ll challenge him again, then falls back on your neck once he sees he’s won. 

In the end, Kai holds true to his promise and coaxes three more orgasms out of you before his hips stutter. He pulls out and releases on your stomach, panting hard. You lay beside each other, completely exhausted and overstimulated, until he finally drags you up and into the bathroom. In a way, you do win, because he dresses you in his own clothes - boxers and a hoodie - before pulling you downstairs with him. You’re still determined to get your clothes back somehow, but as your eyes flutter sleepily still, you decide to table that for another day. 

That evening, when you settle down for your usual nightly movie, you find yourself laying against his chest with his arm around your waist. He seems more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him, and the noticeable difference makes you smile. 

“If you wanted to touch me, you could’ve just asked,” you half-tease. 

“Hm.”

“I like you, too, y’know.” He finally looks away from the tv, eyes dropping to you instead. “Way before all of this. I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Fear of losing you?” You shrug. “Not only are we the only people here, but… you’re also the only person I’ve felt ever close to in my life. I didn’t want to do something that would make you uncomfortable, or make you hate me.”

“I could never hate you,” he admits. He presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “And I think I’m the one who crossed the ‘uncomfortable’ boundary.”

You laugh. “Yeah, you did. You crossed a very big boundary.” You tilt your head and run your tongue across your lips. “But… it doesn’t make me uncomfortable with you. Nor angry. Maybe in the moment, but certainly not now. Actually… it’s kinda hot, now that I think about it.”

Despite his passing nervousness, he can’t help but laugh. “I did say you’d be playing with fire.”

“Guess I should’ve headed the warning.”

You curl closer into him, adoring the way he responds so quickly, running a hand through your hair and dancing his fingers on your skin. It’s easier than ever to relax around him. Right now, this prison world feels like anything but a prison. 

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night, you sneak into his room, polaroid in hand. It’s rather easy, the lock is gone now and his door is cracked open, practically inviting you in. You tiptoe up to his bed, focusing the camera on Kai’s shirtless form and snap a quick photo, snickering to yourself. But then, as the old machine whirrs in action, your target opens an eye. You back up, glancing between the boy in the bed and the door. He groans, laughing on the tail end of the tired sound. 

“Whatcha doing?”

“Karma, baby.”

“Mhm, good try.” He eyes you in a way that sends a shiver up your spine. “Y’know… the way I got so many of you is because I was quiet.” 

“Uh-” You look at the door again - big mistake. The moment your eyes are off him, his arms around your waist. “Ah, Kai!” You screech, head hitting his pillow for the second time that day. 

He positions himself on top of you, practically sitting on you, and takes the camera from your hands. “Tip number one, snap the picture and leave before the camera starts to sputter.” He sets it on the nightstand. “Tip number two, stalk someone who’s a little less obsessed with you. That way, they might not be able to hear your every move.” Before you can reply, he’s kissing you again, with as much passion as he had only hours ago. 

[bingbongsupremacy]

The Lakeside Cabin Pt. 2

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Warning: Y/N Use, swearing, bullying from both Bucky and Y/N

Series Summary: The hate you and Bucky have for each other has gradually increased throughout your time knowing each other. This time, things went too far. Thanks to your arguments, you get sent on a unique consequential mission: You will both live together in a secluded cabin until you're able to come together and settle your differences. You're screwed.

Pt. Summary: You and Bucky spend your first 2 days in the cabin...of course, it's messy.

This doesn't really follow the movies or shows.

*Not Proof Read*

No mentions of body type, skin color, or details of reader's appearance. Reader is able-bodied.

□□□□□□□

As soon as Fury left the room, Steve was sent in to inform us we need to pack our stuff.

"First thing tomorrow I'm driving you two to the cabin." His eyes shift between the two of us.

"Steve, you have to do something about this." I urge the tall blonde. I gesture between myself and Bucky. "We will literally kill each other. 10 minutes tops. I swear."

Bucky scoffs. "With your mouth? Make it five." He shakes his head in annoyance. A strand of his brown hair falling loose in front of his eyes in the process. He is leaned back against his chair, thick arms tightly folded against his chest.

"You couldn't kill me if you tried. Brains over brawn." I snap back at the older man.

He ignores my glare, instead rolling his eyes. "Doll, let’s not fantasize. You talk like you’re a genius, but I’ve met houseplants with better critical thinking skills. At least they know which direction the sun’s coming from. Meanwhile, you still have to be told which hand is your left hand."

My blood boils. I tightly clench my fists, ready to attack Bucky. I narrow my eyes at the man, praying a lightning bolt strikes him down. Some nerve. "First of all, it was one time! I was shitfaced drunk and seeing like 50 versions of my own hand. That gets confusing. Second of all, that’s rich coming from the guy who types with one finger and calls it ‘tactical efficiency.' I know animals who type better than y-"

Steve cuts me. "Enough. Enough! This is exactly why you're being sent to this safehouse. You two are unbelievable, you know that? This is literally the reason you are going to the safehouse." He glares at us. "You're adults! It's time you start acting like it." Steve's voice is stern, like a pissed off father.

Deep down, I know he's right. Bucky and I should be able to work together without feeling the need to piss the other off. Our stupid fights got us into this situation, but unfortunately, they can't get us out.

We need to come out of this civil.

How though?

What are we supposed to do to calm the anger between us? Make friendship bracelets and have heart-to-hearts? Where do we even begin?

"I don't understand this...rivalry between the two of you." Steve folds his arms.

I avoid his gaze. A feeling of guilt begins to gnaw at the inside of my stomach. Something about Steve's disappointed dad demeanor makes me question my behaviors.

Steve continues. "You're both great at what you do. Why can't you just build each other up instead of trying to tear each other down? This is a team. We need to have each other's backs. It's not fair to the rest of us when stuff like today happens. Someone could've gotten hurt, and you wouldn't be able to help because you're so caught up in each other. Think about us. If someone had been injured while you two were bickering, I guarantee you would've come back feeling horrible. Don't let that happen."

Bucky and I are silent while the words settle in our minds.

I hate that he's right.

-------

The car ride to the safehouse is long. None of us speak as Steve continues down the highway surrounded by forest. I keep my head pressed against he passenger side window, watching as the trees speed by.

The radio crackles as we begin to get further and further from civilization before eventually turning into steady static. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Steve turn off the radio before turning his attention back to the road.

After another ten minutes of silence, Steve turns off the highway onto a smaller road. The gravel-covered road crackles as the tires of our car push against it. The car pulls into a large clearing.

Ahead sits a large cabin, a lake visible behind it. The exterior cabin is covered in brown wood that gives off the feeling of Lincoln Logs. Large windows sit on either side of the front door, both covered by curtains. The wooden door is beautifully crafted, with gentle carvings surrounding the small window at the top. The porch is nearly bare, the only things on it being two wooden rocking chairs. The second story of the cabin contains one window, also covered by a curtain on the inside. The roof is a light green color, obviously faded from the sun.

The lawn is overgrown and filled with wildflowers, which stop at the road. Rocks separate the lawn from the road, leaving a small opening for a path to the cabin door. To the far side of the cabin is a small covered car. In the distance, I can see what I think is a fire pit with chairs surrounding it.

Immediately, I spot some of the cameras Fury was talking about. A familiar red dot sits in the corner of the one facing the road we just pulled up through.

They're already watching us.

Steve parks the car, and I immediately get out, ready to stretch my legs. Little rocks from the gravel road push against the bottom of my shoes, adding pressure in weird places. I ignore it, deciding to walk around to the back of the car where my bags are.

Steve pops the trunk open, and I scan over the items. Two boxes of food and necessities are stacked on each other and tucked in the corner, under a few extra blankets. Next to the boxes are our bags and things we brought to do.

I reach into the trunk and pull out my two suitcases and travel backpack. When I turn around, I spot Bucky looking over my luggage with a raised brow.

This morning I woke up late and ended up being twenty minutes late for the car. Both guys were already inside talking when I stuffed my bags inside the trunk.

"We stayin' two weeks or are you planning on making it a year?" Bucky asks while watching me pull on my backpack.

I roll my eyes. "Some of us actually like to change our outfits, Bucky. We don't all wear the same 2 pairs of Henleys and jeans." I snap back without thinking. "It's called style. You might want to try it."

Bucky scoffs, folding his arms over his broad chest. "Style? Doll, if carrying half a department store on your back counts as style, I’ll stick with functional. At least my clothes don’t require a damn instruction manual."

"Fuck yo-"

Steve cuts me off, stepping in the middle of the two of us. "Enough." His voice is stern. He looks back and forth at us. "Remember why you're here. Behave."

Bucky is silent while he grabs his singular bag out of the trunk. He also somehow manages to grab both of the boxes and blankets.

Fucking supersoldiers.

Steve leads us up the path to the cabin entrance. He pulls out a small housekey from his pocket as soon as we get to the door. He unlocks the door and takes a step inside, us following behind.

Sunlight streams into the house from the door. Dust swarms around in the air around the light, sending a tickle up my nose.

This place definitely hasn't been used in a while.

Steve turns on the hallway light, which takes a minute to flicker on.

A deep green rug stretches across the wooden floors. The floorboards underneath groan with age.

To the left, the cabin opens up into a large living room that feels like stepping into another time. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line the walls, overflowing with mismatched spines -some worn and cracked, others newer but wedged in haphazardly, like the collection grew too fast to be properly arranged. One of the large windows I saw outside is against the wall. A large, faded floral curtain blocks most of the light from coming in.

On the far wall is a massive stone fireplace, blackened at the mouth from decades of crackling fires. A small stack of wood sits in a woven basket nearby, and a set of iron tools leans beside the hearth, rust-spotted and clearly well-used.

Two large, weathered leather couches face one another in the center of the room, the cushions sunken from use, but still inviting. Between them rests a handmade wooden coffee table -its surface rough and nicked with character, the legs thick and carved with simple swirls. Small side tables, mismatched but cute, flank the couches. On each one sits a tiny lamp with linen shades.

In the corner, nearest the old box TV, a relic from the early 2000s, if not before, sits a lone recliner. The faded fabric is worn along the armrests, and one side sags just slightly more than the other, like it's been very well used. A thick, knitted grey blanket is folded over the back of it, clearly hand-made.

On the opposite side of the entryway is a compact office space, its doorway framed by dark wood molding. Inside, a large, worn mahogany desk sits front and center. Behind it is a battered office chair, the upholstery torn along the edges and stuffing peeking through. The desk itself is surprisingly bare -just a dusty brass lamp with a cracked green glass shade, and a chipped ceramic mug crammed full of pens and pencils.

Another fireplace nestles against the far wall, smaller than the one in the living room but just as old, framed by a simple brick mantel. Above it are several decorative items clearly arranged with a purpose.

Steve leads us past the wide wooden staircase in front of us to the kitchen where Bucky sets down the boxes and blankets on the counter.

The kitchen looks like it was last renovated sometime before color TV was invented. The floor creaks with every step, the faded linoleum peeling at the corners like it’s trying to escape. The counters are scratched-up laminate in a nauseating shade of beige, stained permanently by years of coffee spills and what you can only guess was tomato sauce… hopefully.

The cabinets are all uneven, a mismatched mix of pale wood and dull, chipped paint. One hangs slightly open. The stove is an ancient, avocado-green relic. A dented kettle sits on the back burner like it’s been there for decades, and probably has.

There’s one tiny window above the sink, foggy with age and framed by dusty curtains that might’ve once been floral. Barely any natural light gets in, casting everything in a dim, golden haze. The hum of the fridge fills my ears as soon as I get into the room —loud enough to be annoying but not loud enough to drown out the silence.

A single flickering lightbulb hangs overhead, its yellow glow casting long shadows that make the place feel smaller than it already is. There’s no dishwasher, obviously, and the sink’s faucet drips every few seconds with a metallic plink that quickly becomes infuriating.

It’s cozy in a way. Or at least, it would be -if I didn't have to share it with Bucky.

"There's more food in the pantry and down in the storage cellar." Steve gestures to a closed door. "You guys should be set for the next two weeks. There should be cable and internet, according to Tony, I don't know how well it works up here. If something happens and you need help, there's an emergency button hidden behind the painting above the fireplace in the office. There's more wood outside and an axe in the shed -Not for killing." His eyes narrow at us. "The building should have heat, AC, running water, and electricity. You are not allowed to use the boat or to leave the property unless the trip is approved by Fury. Cameras will be watching. Expect check-in calls every few days. You will also be given tasks to do together as a team. You have to do them. " Steve informs us.

"Can we swim?" I ask curiously.

"Sure. Do whatever you want as long as it leads to you two getting along and not hurting each other." Steve sighs. "Really try to get along, guys, alright? This is for your own benefit."

Doesn't feel like it.

"I've got to get back." Steve says when neither of us replies. He sets the key down on the counter top before beginning to walk towards the door but he stops a few inches shy to look at us once again. "No killing, I'm serious. Goodbye."

Bucky and I say goodbye to the blonde man. We listen to the fading creaking sounds the wood makes under his weight as he walks back to the entrance. The front door shuts with a small click and I immediately turn to Bucky.

"I call the master's suite." I say before he can open his mouth.

"Of course you do." He mutters.

"You snooze, you lose," I say unsympathetically.

"Do you always have to be such a pain in the ass?" Bucky grumbles while sending me an annoyed look.

I grin. "Only for you, Bucky. You're the one special person who brings out the worst in me."

"Aw, I’m flattered. Didn’t realize ruining your mood was my superpower. Should I add it to my resume?" Bucky mocks me.

I narrow my eyes. "A resume? Wow, look at you keeping up with the modern world. What’s next, learning how to use emojis? I mean, it only took you a year to figure out how to answer a phone without hanging up first -color me impressed."

"First of all, we had resumes in the 40s. They aren't that new of an invention. Secondly, yeah, I’m ancient. But at least I didn’t grow up thinking TikTok was a valid news source." He raises an eyebrow. "Pretty sure I’ve fought dictators with more self-awareness than you."

"Do you even know what TikTok is, grandpa? Or did you just hear Sam say it once and decide to be mad about it?" I feel my heart pounding in my chest as my anger builds up. He just won't quit.

To be fair, neither will I.

Whatever.

"I don’t need to know what it is, Y/N. You think I’m wasting my time watching people dance around on the internet?" He crosses his arms, clearly annoyed. "I’ve got better things to do than-" He cuts himself off. His drawn brows slowly pull apart. "We need to stop." He takes a deep breath, obviously trying to calm himself down.

His words cut through my anger-filled mind, hitting me with a moment of clarity. He's right. We're doing exactly what we were sent here to stop doing.

"You're..." I hesitate to say the word. It physically pains me. "right." I sigh, agreeing with the man. I glance down at my bags, my fingers fidgeting at the strap of my backpack. Part of me wants to keep fighting. Part of me wants to keep digging in my heels and hating everything about this. But another part... the part that’s more exhausted than anything... doesn’t want to fight anymore. I just want to go to sleep. The stress from the past few days and the long trip really took a toll on me.

Instead of getting cocky like I expected, his brows shoot up in surprise. He wasn't expecting me to give in so easily.

"Alright...well, I'm going to go upstairs and find a room -not the master suite." He picks up his suitcase again. He glances down at the two suitcases resting at my feet. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and I notice something in his eyes—hesitation, like he’s not sure if he should keep pushing or just... back off. "Do you...do you need help bringing up your stuff?" He asks, his voice low, like he’s not sure if I’ll snap at him for it.

It's my turn to stare at him in shock.

Bucky Barnes...helping me?

That's a first.

I blink, thrown off by the sudden offer. For a second, I just stare at him, my mind working to process what he’s saying.

I open my mouth to refuse, to shoot him down like I always do, but something holds me back. Maybe it’s the fact that carrying these damn bags up two flights of stairs doesn’t exactly sound like a fun time. Or maybe it’s the fact that, for the first time, I’m starting to think that maybe, just maybe, there's a possibility we don’t always have to be at each other’s throats.

I let out a breath, trying to steady myself. "Fine. But don’t think this means I’m suddenly your best friend."

He nods, his expression unreadable as he walks over to grab my bags without a word. He begins to carry them along with his out of the kitchen and up the stairs. I watch him for a moment, unsure of what to make of the situation.

And just like that, the argument is over. For now.

--------

The morning light is harsh through the small windows, slicing through the cabin with no regard for the awkward silence hanging in the air. I can feel the weight of two weeks settling over me as I sit up in bed. Bucky’s already awake, of course. He’s always awake early.

If we were at the compound, he'd almost be done training by now. Bucky loves his routines.

I shuffle into the kitchen, still groggy, and see Bucky standing at the counter with a coffee cup in hand. He doesn’t acknowledge me, and I’m not in the mood to acknowledge him either. The moment I reach for the coffee machine, my eyes catch a post-it note stuck to the side of it.

Do not touch the coffee until I’ve had my first cup. – Bucky.

I can feel the annoyance creeping up my neck, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I turn on the stove, making myself a quick breakfast and deciding to leave him to his rituals. His mornings are the same: precise, silent, and filled with the deep frown that seems to permanently mark his face. I don’t get him. I never will.

Spontaneity makes life fun. I like waking up and not knowing what I'm going to eat for breakfast. It's like a little surprise. I also like going throughout my day, not knowing what I'm going to do or who I'm going to see. It keeps things fun.

I’m finishing my toast when Bucky finally speaks, still not looking at me. “You’re gonna need to take your stuff out of the fridge,” he says, his voice stiff.

I glance over at the fridge, where my eggs and yogurt are squeezed in beside his protein shakes and old cans of tuna. There’s a post-it note on the door now.

Keep your food on your side. – Bucky.

My teeth grind together, and I fight the urge to snap something back.

Civil. I need to be civil.

Instead, I nod curtly. “Noted,” I mutter, picking up my food and bringing it along with me.

I retreat into the living room, eager to get some space. I can hear the sound of Bucky pouring his coffee as I settle down on the couch. There’s something comforting about the chaos of reality TV, the drama, the mindless bickering. I turn on the TV, the familiar blaring voices filling the room.

Bucky appears in the doorway, already scowling.

“Really?” he asks, crossing his arms, his eyes narrow as he watches the screen. “You’re watching this crap?”

Of course, he doesn't like reality TV. I bet the only thing he watches is nature documentaries. And he definitely needs to plan that into his day ahead of time.

I barely glance up, but I can feel his gaze burning into me. “Yeah. What’s the problem?” I reply, trying to act casual while I scroll through the options.

Every once in a while, the TV screen will distort, a sign of the horrible signal out here in the middle of nowhere.

“It’s just... ridiculous. It’s all fake. Why would you waste your time on this?”

I can’t help but smirk. “Well, I find it entertaining,” I say, popping a piece of toast into my mouth. “It’s better than, I don’t know, making everything a drill sergeant routine.”

Bucky huffs and shakes his head, obviously irritated. “You could be doing something productive.”

“Like what?” I shoot back, but I don’t care enough to engage in the same conversation again. It’s easier to just keep watching the show. At least reality TV drama doesn't involve me.

He mutters something under his breath, something I can’t quite catch. After a moment, he makes his way over to the partially sunken recliner and turns to look at the show. His entire body is stiff, like he’s holding in some rage.

I can tell he’s not going to leave until I acknowledge his discomfort, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction. I lean back on the couch, my legs stretched out in front of me on the coffee table as I continue watching.

After what feels like an eternity of him seething in silence, Bucky stands up abruptly. “I don’t know how you can watch this trash,” he grumbles, walking toward the kitchen.

We love a passive-aggressive drama queen.

I don’t even look at him, too busy enjoying the ridiculousness of the show. “You’re free to go do whatever you want, Bucky,” I call after him, my voice thick with sarcasm. “If you don’t like it, you can always head out into the woods and have a silent staring contest with the trees. They'll match your vibe perfectly: Silent and broody.”

He doesn’t answer, but I catch the faintest mutter, “Asshole,” as he storms off.

I let out a small, vindictive laugh to myself. That felt good.

Not even five minutes later, there’s a Post-it note stuck to the coffee table.

If you’re going to keep watching that crap, keep the volume down. - Bucky.

I roll my eyes but don’t respond. Instead, I grab the remote and turn up the volume just a little bit louder, letting the voices echo around the cabin.

Later in the afternoon, I’m sprawled out on the couch, now fully invested in the chaos of the show. I’m halfway through the latest episode when I see another post-it note. It’s stuck to the arm of the couch, right by my shoulder.

The noise isn’t the only thing that’s annoying. Can you clean up after yourself once in a while? - Bucky.

I glance around the living room, taking in the few crumbs from my snack and the empty cup I left on the counter. I guess this is his way of saying he doesn’t like the mess. Not that I care. He doesn’t like anything about me. And I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.

I scribble a quick note on a post-it, sticking it right by his coffee mug on the counter where he’ll see it.

This is my cabin too, right? It’s not like you’re the only one who’s allowed to be here. – Y.

I sit back, satisfied, as I continue watching the reality TV show, ignoring the underlying tension that seems to be building between us.

I wake up to the smell of coffee and something… burnt. Not fire-alarm burnt. Just slightly scorched ego burnt.

Bucky’s already in the kitchen, standing like he’s guarding national secrets in front of the stove. He doesn’t look at me when I shuffle in, blanket still wrapped around my shoulders like a personal shield. But there’s a note waiting on the counter—of course there is.

It’s stuck to a plate holding two very crispy slices of toast and a sad little smear of jam.

Figured I’d make enough for two. Next time, don’t leave your crumb trail in my peanut butter. – B.

I blink at it. Then at him.

He still doesn’t glance over. Just sips his coffee and stares out the window like it personally offended him.

I grab the plate without a word and pour myself some coffee. The toast crunches like gravel when I bite into it. It’s awful. I eat it anyway.

On my way to grab a napkin, I slap a new post-it down beside the coffee pot.

Your 1943 war ration bread is a health hazard. In other words, if your toast were a contestant on Survivor, it would be voted off the island. 1/10. Jam is communal. Like manners. – Y/N

I can feel him read it, even though he doesn’t say anything. His jaw tightens like he’s either trying not to laugh… or not to strangle me.

We eat in silence. The tension is weirdly quieter than usual -not the usual storm, more like fog.

Eventually, we somehow both end up in the living room. Once again, I grab the remote and flip on my reality show, volume low but not that low. The familiar theme music plays, overly dramatic and stupid in the best way.

I don’t look at him, but I hear the faintest groan -like his soul is physically trying to leave his body.

“This again?” he mutters.

I shrug. “I don’t complain about your 5 a.m. brooding walks.”

“That’s because I don’t do them with a dramatic soundtrack and drunk contestants.”

I sip my coffee. “You’d be more fun if you picked a favorite.” A grin spreads across my face. "Ooh, we could watch The Bachelorette. See which bachelor you root for."

“I’d rather eat drywall.” He grumbles.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

He doesn’t answer.

I bump the volume up by one notch.

He doesn’t leave the room.

And neither do I.

I’m halfway through an episode of my show when Bucky’s phone starts ringing -some weirdly intense ringtone that sounds like someone smashing a piano.

He looks at the screen and groans. “Of course.”

“What?” I ask, glancing at the man. He flips the phone around so I can see: Nick Fury, Incoming Call.

I sit up straighter. “Don’t answer it in here.” Panic begins to build in my chest. I look like shit. I haven't been productive. I still hate Bucky. Fury's going to kick my ass.

Or send someone to do it for him.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m in pajamas and if Fury sees this show playing, he’ll put me on a no-screen list.” My eyes are wide while I stare at Bucky pleadingly.

Too late. Bucky accepts the call. And of course it’s FaceTime.

Fury’s one good eye immediately narrows. “Barnes. Y/N.”

I wave, trying to tuck my blanket higher like it’s a disguise. “Hey, Director. What's up? What do we owe this pleasure?”

“Are you two still breathing?” he asks, deadpan, not answering my question.

I glance at Bucky. “Unfortunately.”

“Funny.” Fury’s sarcasm level is dialed to lethal. “I’d ask if there’s been progress, but judging by the tension I can literally feel through the screen, I’ll skip to the point.”

Bucky folds his arms. “Let me guess—another punishment?”

“It’s a team-building activity,” Fury says, which might be worse. “Since neither of you seems capable of existing in the same room without someone developing a migraine, you’re going to create something together.”

“Like… art?” I ask warily.

Yay. Just what I wanted to spend my afternoon doing.

Fury smirks, and I hate that look. “A birdhouse.”

I blink. “A what?” He can't be serious.

“You heard me. I just sent coordinates to the nearest supply drop location. Go pick it up. Build the damn birdhouse. Together. You’ve got six hours.”

Bucky’s jaw is tight enough to crack concrete. “And if we don’t?”

“You’re here for two weeks,” Fury says. “Every task you fail means another two days added to your stay.”

He ends the call.

Bucky turns slowly toward me. “A birdhouse?”

I raise an eyebrow. “You punch robots for a living. I think you can handle wood glue.”

“Can you handle not talking for five minutes while I read the instructions?” He shoots back.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, did I interrupt your sulking schedule? Edward Cullen, is that you?” I gasp.

He mutters something under his breath and grabs his coat that I barely catch. "Who the fuck is Edward Cullen?"

------

The supply drop is an actual metal case hidden under a tarp by a rock outcropping. Like we’re building a tactical avian bunker. We haul it back to the cabin in silence.

Inside: wood planks, nails, a tiny hammer (which Bucky immediately scoffs at), and one bottle of glue.

Plus a packet labeled: "TEAM MISSION – Document With Photo Proof."

Bucky holds up the hammer. “You use this. I’ll break it in half.”

“You’re not allowed to break anything,” I remind him sweetly. “Or it’s another two days in hell.”

We start sorting pieces. Five minutes in, we’re already fighting over who gets to hold the blueprint.

“No, that’s upside down,” I argue while trying to snatch the blueprint from his hands.

“I know which way is up,” he snaps back, moving the paper out of my reach.

“You’ve been frozen for half your life! You barely know what the internet is!”

His glare could melt steel.

An hour later, the birdhouse is somehow standing, though it leans like it’s avoiding us on purpose. There’s glue all over my fingers and sawdust in Bucky’s hair.

“Picture time,” I say, reaching for my phone.

“We’re not taking a picture next to this thing,” Bucky says. “It looks like a war crime.”

“Then smile like you just committed one.”

He doesn’t smile.

I snap the photo anyway. Us standing stiffly on either side of the crooked birdhouse, not touching, not smiling, and practically vibrating with mutual irritation.

I text it to the number Fury gave us.

“Done,” I say, sitting back with a sigh.

Bucky grunts. “We’ve got twelve more days of this.”

I stare at the birdhouse, tilting even more now. “It’s gonna be a long two weeks.”

------

TAGLIST: @buckysdoll85 @starfly-nicole @vxllys @succulent-momma @amandato300

Pt. 3 soon

[earthlybeam]

Elves how would they react to their human s/o being so…human with their ‘odd quirks’ by elven standards

how would the elves react to this?

↓

↓

↓

Celeborn, haldir, cirdan, adar Versions are below.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

Celeborn, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

𖣂 Celeborn’s reaction to being handcuffed to you as a “friendship bracelet” would initially be one of silent disbelief. His silver brows would arch gracefully as he regards the cuffs with the calm yet calculating gaze of an elf who has faced centuries of surprises, none quite like this. He’d gently test the metal restraint, his fingers brushing against yours in the process, but his expression remains composed.

𖣂 “My lady (or lord), it seems your creativity knows no bounds,” he’d say, his voice tinged with dry amusement. “Though I fail to see how binding oneself to another constitutes a bracelet, I commend the boldness of your invention.”

𖣂 He would likely humor you for a time, maintaining his graceful demeanor as you drag him along, explaining your reasoning. The elves nearby might stifle laughter or exchange glances of mild shock, unaccustomed to such “human eccentricities.” Celeborn, however, would not remove the cuffs immediately. Instead, he’d study you with a growing smile, finding your spontaneity both baffling and endearing.

𖣂 “I have lived millennia and faced foes from Angband to Dol Guldur, yet none have restrained me quite so… creatively. Shall we parade through Lothlórien thus bound, or is this to remain our little secret?” His tone carries an air of teasing elegance, though his eyes soften with clear affection.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

𖣂 Celeborn would observe the entire sequence of events with a mixture of disbelief and quiet amusement. His silver-gray eyes would follow as you blew on the spoonful of steaming stew, muttering, “This is too hot,” only to proceed to pop it into your mouth anyway. The sharp intake of breath and pained expression that followed would cause him to blink once, slowly, before exhaling a soft, knowing sigh.

𖣂 Setting aside whatever task he’d been engaged in, he’d step closer, his voice calm and steady, yet carrying a faint trace of exasperation. “You knew it was too hot,” he’d remark, his tone betraying a rare flicker of humor beneath the surface. “And yet, you chose to test the limits of your own wisdom.”

𖣂 Kneeling gracefully beside you, he’d take your hand in his, examining you with the same attentiveness he reserved for the well-being of his people. “Here,” he’d say, handing you a goblet of cool water. “Drink. Though I wonder if even this lesson will temper your impulsiveness.”

𖣂 Despite the reserved delivery of his words, the corners of his lips would quirk slightly, betraying a quiet fondness. As you winced and fanned your mouth, he’d lean back and watch with an expression both paternal and affectionate, shaking his head faintly. “I have walked through millennia of battles and council chambers, but I doubt I will ever understand your kind’s eagerness to suffer for the sake of haste.”

𖣂 Later, as the pain subsided and you regained your composure, he’d add with a wry smile, “Perhaps next time you will heed your own words—or, at least, let me taste it first.” His tone was light, but his gaze was warm, his endless patience shining through despite your occasional recklessness.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

𖣂 Celeborn would initially watch your outburst with a slight tilt of his head, his silver hair catching the light as his serene expression faltered into something closer to bemused curiosity. Your laughter—starting as a cheerful chuckle—soon escalated into uncontrollable hiccups and snorts that echoed through the tranquil halls of Lothlórien, shattering the elven silence.

𖣂 At first, he would blink, his composure intact, though the faintest lift of his brow betrayed his inner surprise. When the snorting began, however, a soft huff of breath escaped him—perhaps the closest thing to a chuckle you’d ever hear from the dignified Lord of Lothlórien.

𖣂 “Are you… unwell?” he’d ask, his voice calm but touched with concern, as though unsure if this strange noise signaled some form of mortal ailment. Stepping closer, he’d place a hand on your shoulder, his touch light yet grounding, his observant gaze scanning your face for signs of distress. When it became clear this was not a malady but simply you being overtaken by mirth, his expression would soften into something warmer, his lips curving into a small but genuine smile.

𖣂 The sound of your snorts, however, would eventually prove too much for even his legendary self-control. A quiet laugh—low and melodic, almost as if it surprised him—would slip from his lips, a rare and precious thing. He would shake his head slowly, his long fingers brushing a strand of hair from his face as he regarded you with deep affection.

𖣂 “Your joy is… infectious,” he’d murmur, though his words were tinged with a teasing tone. “But I must admit, I have never before heard such sounds come from a living creature. Are you attempting to mimic a wild boar? Or is this simply your unique interpretation of merriment?”

𖣂 When your laughter only intensified at his playful jab, hiccups punctuating your snorts, Celeborn would let out a soft sigh, though his eyes shone with genuine warmth. “You are unlike anyone I have ever known,” he’d say, his voice touched with amusement and quiet wonder. “May your spirit never change, even if it leaves me questioning whether I have wandered into a pasture rather than my own hall.”

𖣂 Later, when you’d finally calmed, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes, he’d gently hand you a goblet of water. “Here, drink,” he’d say, his tone affectionate yet practical. “Though I fear the snorting will haunt my dreams tonight.” His wry humor would glimmer beneath his measured demeanor, revealing just how deeply he cherished your humanity, quirks and all.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

𖣂 Celeborn would notice your sudden pause in the doorway with his usual quiet attentiveness, his keen eyes watching as you glanced around the room, your brow furrowed in confusion. He’d set aside the book he was reading or the map he was studying, his composed demeanor remaining intact, though the faintest trace of curiosity would cross his face.

𖣂 “Have you misplaced something?” he’d ask gently, his melodic voice breaking the silence. Rising with the effortless grace of an ancient elf, he would step toward you, his long robes whispering against the floor. When you simply stood there, blinking in befuddlement, he’d tilt his head slightly, his expression a mixture of patience and mild amusement.

𖣂 “I… can’t remember why I came in here,” you’d admit, the frustration in your voice tinged with embarrassment. At this, his lips would quirk ever so slightly, the faintest hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

𖣂 “Ah,” he’d say, his tone laced with quiet humor, “the mysterious ways of the human mind. So fleeting, so unpredictable.” He’d place his hands behind his back, his gaze soft and warm as he regarded you. “Perhaps you sought counsel or came to tell me of something important… or perhaps it was merely a passing whim.”

𖣂 You’d laugh nervously, shrugging as you glanced around the room again, hoping for a clue that refused to present itself. Celeborn would step closer, his gaze observant yet kind, and after a moment of silence, he’d offer, “Mayhap retracing your steps will awaken the memory. Or… we could simply wait. I have found that the answers we seek often come when we are not looking for them.”

𖣂 He’d gesture toward a nearby chair, his composed demeanor radiating a calm that seemed to make the moment less awkward. “Sit, if you like. Let your mind wander. Though I must admit,” he’d add with a faintly teasing glint in his eyes, “I am intrigued to see how long it will take before your purpose is revealed.”

𖣂 If the memory eventually returned to you, he’d nod with quiet approval. “There it is,” he’d say simply, as though nothing had been out of the ordinary. But if it didn’t, and you gave up with a sheepish shrug, Celeborn would chuckle softly—a rare sound, low and melodic.

𖣂 “Fear not,” he’d say, his voice carrying a warm reassurance. “Even the wisest of us lose our way on occasion. Perhaps this is a reminder to simply enjoy the journey, even if the destination eludes you.” His words, like always, would feel like a gentle balm, turning your fleeting human forgetfulness into something almost endearing.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

𖣂 Celeborn would watch you with an air of quiet curiosity as you flipped the pillow with a practiced motion, seeking the cooler side before settling in for rest. His eyes, ever observant, would narrow ever so slightly as if contemplating the simple, yet curious habit of mortals. A faint smile would tug at the corners of his lips, the gesture subtle but filled with warmth.

𖣂 “Ah,” he would murmur, his voice calm and even, “such a small act, yet one I have never seen in all my years. To think of the need for coolness in sleep… How different the experience of time is for your kind.”

𖣂 He would step closer, his movements graceful and deliberate as he examined the pillow, almost as if pondering its purpose in a way that only an elf with millennia of life experience could. “We elves,” he would continue, “do not often need such concerns for comfort. The cool side of the pillow… a mortal tradition, I suppose?”

𖣂 As you settled in, his thoughtful gaze would soften, and he would chuckle quietly to himself, a rare sound from the typically composed lord of Lothlórien. “Perhaps it is a reflection of the fleeting nature of your kind, always seeking a moment’s relief, always aware of the changing seasons in your lives. I wonder if we elves, with our timeless existence, would understand such little comforts.”

𖣂 His voice would soften with a tender affection. “Still, I find it… charming. That in such small things, you find comfort. Perhaps I, too, should try it one day, to see what it is that brings you such peace in this simple act.” His tone would be teasing, but beneath it was an unmistakable fondness.

𖣂 Celeborn would watch as you lay back, content with your small ritual, and after a moment, he would say, his tone quiet but sincere, “Sleep well, my friend. May the cool side of the pillow bring you comfort, as your presence does to those around you.”

𖣂 In his heart, Celeborn would find a quiet, reflective appreciation for these human quirks. Though they were foreign to him, they spoke to the warmth and fleeting beauty of mortal life, something he had come to cherish through his companionship with you.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

🏹𝓗𝓪𝓵𝓭𝓲𝓻

Haldir, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

➳ Haldir’s first reaction would be one of cautious surprise. His sharp Elven eyes narrow slightly as you hold up the handcuffs, the cold metal glinting in the soft light of Lothlórien. A deep sense of confusion stirs within him. Elves are creatures of grace, tradition, and subtlety, and this—this device—feels so very out of place. His instinct is to recoil, to question why such a thing is even necessary. His mind races, considering the implications of being physically tethered to someone, even if only by metal cuffs. Elves are proud of their independence and autonomy, and Haldir, with his disciplined nature, values his personal space.

➳ “Mellon,” he begins, his voice hesitant but still calm, “What… are these?” His eyes flicker to the cuffs, then back to you, unsure whether to be annoyed or intrigued. The connection between you both is new, fragile in its beginnings, and the physical closeness this suggests makes him feel exposed in a way he isn’t accustomed to.

➳ As the cuffs click into place, he freezes for a moment, his posture stiffening. He doesn’t pull away, but the discomfort is evident in the way his jaw tightens. The concept of being tied to another, especially in such a direct way, clashes with his deeply ingrained Elven sense of pride and order. But he is not cruel. He doesn’t demand you take them off immediately. Instead, his thoughts turn inward as he tries to process the action.

➳ “I… I do not understand,” he says softly, his usual composure wavering just a little. There’s a brief flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, though he quickly masks it with the usual calm, pragmatic exterior. He stands tall, trying to hold on to his usual sense of control, though the sensation of being tethered to you, a human he barely knows, feels strange.

➳ However, seeing the earnestness in your eyes—the warmth, the hope, the connection—slowly changes his perspective. His lips twitch upward, not quite a smile but the closest he will come for now. There’s something in your gesture, something unspoken, that makes his guarded heart soften. “Strange, but… not entirely unwelcome.” His voice, though still guarded, betrays a hint of reluctant affection.

➳ He will stand by your side, perhaps a little stiff, but in the silence between you both, the handcuffs would serve as an unspoken bond, a symbol of trust—strange, yet meaningful. Haldir might not yet fully understand the gesture, but for the first time in a long while, he feels a small, unexpected pull toward you, tethered not just by metal but by something deeper, something more human.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

➳ Haldir’s sharp eyes are trained on you as you take a bite of the food, knowing full well that it is too hot, yet watching you do so with an almost fascinated intensity. He had warned you, the heat was obvious even to him—yet you insisted. As soon as you burn your tongue, a flash of concern flickers in Haldir’s usually composed gaze. His mind races for the proper course of action. Should he offer aid? Should he speak? But before he can act, he watches you flinch and hear the muffled exclamation of discomfort, clearly regretting your choice.

➳ His natural instinct is to respond immediately, stepping forward, but the elf within him, ever so poised and composed, hesitates. He stands still for a heartbeat, his gaze flicking down to your face, registering your discomfort. His stoic demeanor cracks for just a second, a faint line of concern forming between his brows. His tone, always measured and calm, carries a touch of disapproval, though it’s not harsh. “I told you it was too hot, meleth nín,” he says softly, his voice tinged with both reprimand and care. There’s a quiet gentleness behind the sternness, a reflection of how deeply he cares.

➳ He moves swiftly then, his Elven grace ensuring he doesn’t come off as rushed, but his eyes remain focused on you with an intensity that betrays his concern. “Here,” he says, his voice shifting into a soothing tone as he offers you a drink, likely something cool to help ease the burn. His actions are deliberate, his usual reserve slipping slightly as he ensures you’re taken care of, though his brow remains furrowed, still mildly frustrated at your stubbornness.

➳ The whole scene would be an odd mix of sternness and affection. He’s not used to such impetuousness—Elves are so controlled in their ways, and the impulsiveness of humans confounds him. Yet, there’s an undeniable softness in the way he checks on you, despite the small reproach.

➳ He would likely shake his head, an amused yet bemused look crossing his face as he waits for you to recover. “Next time, heed my words, Y/N. I would not want to see you hurt.” His tone is quiet, earnest, but there’s also the faintest trace of a smile hidden beneath his careful expression. Haldir may be overly cautious, but it’s all driven by a deep desire to protect and care for those he holds dear.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

➳ Haldir stands in silence, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches you laugh. Your laughter, initially light and joyful, grows louder and more erratic until it erupts into hiccupping and snorting—a sound completely foreign to him. His normally composed and serious demeanor falters, his sharp Elven features momentarily betraying a flicker of surprise. His gaze flicks to your face, a mix of confusion and slight discomfort flashing across his expression.

➳ The snorts, in particular, catch him off guard. What manner of sound is this? He thought humans were graceful, full of poise, but in this moment, your laughter seems almost… animalistic. He takes a step back, almost instinctively, as if unsure of how to react. Was this normal for you? The thought lingers, and his mind races, trying to reconcile this display with the orderly, composed nature of Elves.

➳ Yet, despite his initial shock, a deeper part of him can’t help but find the sight… endearing. There’s something raw and genuine in your laughter, a vulnerability in the way you are so unguarded. It stirs something unfamiliar within him—a softness, a flicker of affection that he doesn’t often allow himself to acknowledge. His lips twitch slightly, struggling to maintain his usual stern composure.

➳ “You…” he begins, his voice strained, but he trails off, unsure how to address the unexpected nature of your outburst. His serious aura falters, though he does not fully crack into a smile. “You are… quite loud when you find something amusing,” he says, his tone attempting to remain dignified but betraying an edge of bemusement.

➳ Still, Haldir cannot suppress the quiet chuckle that slips past his lips, much to his own surprise. The sound is brief, and he quickly schools his expression back to seriousness, as if to pretend it never happened. But beneath the veneer of discipline, there is a flicker of warmth—a rare glimpse of the Haldir who is capable of finding humor in the most unexpected places.

➳ “You are… certainly unique, Y/N,” he adds softly, his words carrying a mixture of intrigue and affection. There is a certain fondness in his eyes as he watches you continue, though his demeanor is still largely reserved, wary of letting his emotions fully surface. He finds this human trait of yours perplexing, but also… oddly charming.

➳ “Try not to disturb the peace of Lothlórien with such sounds,” he teases lightly, though his tone remains gentle, the edges of his usual stoicism softened by the affection he feels for you in this moment.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

➳ Haldir watches you enter the room with purpose, only to stand still for a moment, a look of confusion spreading across your face. His keen Elven eyes observe as you glance around, your expression betraying the realization that you’ve forgotten why you came in. There’s a fleeting pause, and he feels a flicker of concern—then, a slight shift in his posture as he silently assesses the situation.

➳ You pause, almost lost in thought, and he cannot help but feel a slight pang of curiosity. What has distracted you so thoroughly, Y/N? His mind races briefly, his sense of duty making him wonder if you are unwell or if something has happened to cause this lapse in memory. His gaze softens, though he keeps his distance, watching you as though trying to decipher the cause.

➳ There’s a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh from him, but it’s not one of frustration. Rather, it’s a sigh of understanding mixed with the faintest hint of amusement. Haldir, who has lived for millennia, has seen and experienced the meticulous planning of Elven minds, the careful attention to detail, and the control of Elven lives. But this? This is uniquely human—a fleeting moment of forgetfulness that is, perhaps, a reflection of your imperfection, your beautiful unpredictability.

➳ He steps forward with slow, deliberate grace, his voice carrying a quiet warmth as he addresses you. “Is everything well, meleth nín?” he asks, his tone calm but with an undercurrent of genuine concern. He doesn’t push, but he offers you the chance to gather your thoughts, his expression softening with an empathy that only someone as observant as him would offer.

➳ There’s a momentary silence before he adds with a subtle smile, “If it is of any help, I often find that the mind is not quite as sharp when one is distracted by matters of the heart.” His comment is gentle, offering both an explanation and a way for you to laugh off the slip. Haldir’s stoic nature remains, but there’s an unmistakable glint of affection in his eyes. He’s not mocking you, not at all. He’s merely acknowledging the small, human imperfections that make you who you are—precisely the qualities that draw him closer.

➳ He doesn’t ask for explanations or dwell on the forgetfulness. Instead, he merely waits, his quiet presence offering a comforting reassurance. If you don’t remember why you walked into the room, it’s of little importance to him. His thoughts are focused on you, not the trivialities of such human quirks. “Perhaps it will come to you in time,” he says, his tone thoughtful. “Or we may simply walk out and start anew, as Elves are wont to do with most things.”

➳ With that, he offers you a kind smile, his usual sternness softened, and gives you a moment to gather your bearings. He doesn’t press further. Instead, he offers his arm or a steady presence, eager to ensure that the moment doesn’t feel embarrassing for you. His love for you, grounded in his devotion to Lothlórien, allows him to view these small, human slips not with judgment but with affection.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

➳ Haldir watches, silently observing as you reach over to flip your pillow to the “cool side” before settling in. His gaze lingers on you for a moment, an eyebrow subtly arching in quiet curiosity. In Lothlórien, the rhythms of nature and the stillness of the forest are far more predictable than the small, human quirks that you exhibit. Elves, who have long learned to sleep soundly under the gentle embrace of starlight, never felt the need to worry about the warmth of their pillows. But here you are, flipping the pillow with a small, decisive motion, as if performing some ancient ritual.

➳ Haldir remains still, but his mind is already processing the moment. Why would one flip the pillow? he wonders, though he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t need to. His gaze softens, intrigued by the simple, human need for comfort. He is not unfamiliar with the concept of rest, but he cannot recall ever experiencing such an impulse himself. Elves, after all, are known for their grace and ease, even in sleep. But you, you are different—a creature of fleeting moments and small habits that make you uniquely human.

➳ It’s a strange thing for him to observe: this small, almost childlike act of adjusting the pillow for comfort, a simple gesture of vulnerability that seems so out of place in the ever-stern, ever-vigilant world of the Elves. Yet, there’s something endearing in it. He feels a strange sense of warmth tug at his chest, a flicker of affection for your little quirks, the small moments that make you feel more… human.

➳ When you settle in and lie down, Haldir glances at you, his lips twitching, almost as if he’s trying to suppress the curiosity and affection that suddenly floods him. He’s seen warriors prepare for battle, skilled in every aspect of combat, yet here you are, preparing for rest in such a human, innocent way. It’s humbling in a way. You’re not bound by tradition, not enslaved to the rigid order of his people. You are free toexperience the world in ways that make you you.

➳ “I… did not know that one could adjust the pillow like this,” he says quietly, almost to himself. He doesn’t mock you; instead, there’s a quiet, contemplative tone to his voice, as if he’s genuinely trying to understand. There’s a brief pause before Haldir adds, with the faintest smile tugging at his lips, “In Lothlórien, we find our peace in the embrace of the trees. But I suppose the cool side of a pillow might do as well.”

➳ His words carry no judgment, only a curious understanding of how something so simple could mean so much to you. He watches you for a long moment, feeling an unexpected tenderness that only deepens with each passing second. The night seems quieter now, the distance between his Elven ways and your human ones feeling just a little less vast.

➳ If you catch his eye, you’ll see that there’s a glint of amusement—an acknowledgment that he’s starting to see how your small, human habits are endearing, a reflection of the simple joys you find in life. For him, it is a new lesson in understanding the beauty of imperfection. And just for a moment, Haldir allows himself to lean back, to let the gentle tranquility of the moment wash over him, accepting that not all things are to be understood or controlled. Some things, like flipping a pillow, are just meant to be experienced.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

🌊 𝓬í𝓻𝓭𝓪𝓷

Cirdan, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

𓇼 Círdan would pause for a moment, his ancient eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and mild surprise as he looked down at the handcuffs now linking him to you. Elves, with their preference for elegance and freedom, would rarely consider such practical, yet confining, gestures. A gentle smile would tug at the corners of his lips, his voice warm and kind, though tinged with amusement.

𓇼 “Ah, I see you’ve found a new way to bind us together,” he might say softly, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of affection and a hint of playfulness. The thought of being physically restrained, even in such a mild manner, was something far from the Elven way, yet Círdan would not scold you. Instead, he would appreciate the sentiment, understanding it as a sign of your bond.

𓇼 “You’ve chosen a curious form of closeness,” he would continue, his tone light but sincere. “But perhaps next time, a less…metallic approach might suit us better.” There would be no judgment, only the calm, patient wisdom of one who had seen many ages pass, and who knew that human gestures, however odd by Elven standards, were often full of heart. Círdan would likely gently tug at the cuff, raising an eyebrow, before offering a small laugh, letting the moment pass without further comment.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

𓇼 Círdan would watch with a patient, knowing look as you burned your tongue on the food despite his warning. Having lived through countless ages, he’d seen such simple mistakes many times, yet still, there would be a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His voice, though warm and gentle, would carry a hint of quiet humor.

𓇼 “I did try to warn you, my friend,” he might say with a soft chuckle, his tone not mocking but more of a fond acknowledgment of your human nature. Elves, with their heightened senses and careful precision, could never make such a mistake, but Círdan understood that humans often had a different approach to things—one that embraced the moment, perhaps without fully considering the consequences.

𓇼 He would likely offer you a soft, understanding smile, a hand reaching for a nearby cool drink or cloth to help soothe your discomfort. “The heat can be fierce to the unprepared,” he would murmur, his voice soothing, the wisdom of the ages in his words. “But you learn quickly, don’t you?” His demeanor would remain calm, his concern for you evident, but never in a way that felt overbearing. He knew that in moments like these, a gentle word and quiet support were all that was needed.

𓇼 Círdan would not be frustrated or annoyed; instead, he would find joy in your innocence, in the way humans experience life in ways Elves no longer could. The bond between you, however small the mistake, would only deepen.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

𓇼 Círdan would watch you with an amused yet serene expression, his ancient eyes softening with affection as your laughter erupts into uncontrollable hiccups and snorts. Elves, so often graceful and composed, rarely let their mirth take such an unruly form, yet Círdan’s patience and understanding would make him savor this moment. He would recognize in your laughter the genuine joy and innocence of humanity, a trait that, despite its occasional awkwardness, he found utterly endearing.

𓇼 “Ah, I did not expect such a display,” he would say with a quiet chuckle, the faintest twinkle in his wise eyes. His voice would be calm and warm, not mocking, but filled with a kind appreciation for the simple, human way you expressed yourself. “It is a rare thing indeed, to see such… vivid merriment among us.”

𓇼 Círdan might pause, his gaze soft as he took in the moment. He would allow your laughter to wash over him, undisturbed by any sense of judgment or discomfort. To him, your laughter—hiccupping and snorting as it was—was a reminder of the liveliness that humans brought to the world, something Elves, despite their long lives and wisdom, could not fully replicate.

𓇼 He would likely smile and offer a gentle hand to steady you, his voice carrying a quiet amusement as he said, “No need to be embarrassed. In fact, I think I prefer this. It is… refreshing.” With a rare, deep chuckle, he would allow the moment to pass, enjoying the lightness you brought into his ancient world, a world often marked by gravitas.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

𓇼 Círdan would observe with a soft, understanding smile as you stand there, momentarily lost in thought, a slight frown tugging at your brow as you try to recall the purpose for entering the room. In his long years, he had seen countless instances of forgetfulness, but he would never be impatient with it, particularly in humans, whose minds, unlike those of Elves, often flitted from one thing to another with such ease.

𓇼 “Ah, a fleeting thought,” he might say gently, his voice rich with calm wisdom. He would never find such moments frustrating; instead, he would appreciate how human minds sometimes wander, unable to grasp hold of every fleeting thought. His gaze would soften, and his smile would remain kind. “You are not alone in this. Even the sharpest minds falter at times.”

𓇼 Círdan would likely take a step closer, his presence steady and reassuring. He would not rush you or offer forced answers but would simply allow the moment to settle, trusting that your thoughts would soon return to you. “Sometimes, it is the small distractions that pull us from our tasks,” he would add, his tone not condescending, but understanding. “And perhaps, it is not so important after all.”

𓇼 His eyes would gleam with quiet amusement, and he might offer a comforting gesture—placing a hand lightly on your shoulder or offering a knowing smile. For him, moments like these were reminders of the beauty in human nature imperfect, but full of wonder. And Círdan, ever wise and patient, would let you take your time, knowing the answers would come when the time was right.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

𓇼 Círdan would watch you with quiet amusement as you flipped the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in. Though Elves, with their long lives and heightened senses, did not often concern themselves with such mundane comforts, Círdan would understand that such simple acts were part of the human experience. In his many years of watching the world, he had come to appreciate the small ways in which humans sought comfort and solace, often in ways that Elves had long since moved beyond.

𓇼 A soft smile would appear on his face as he observed you, perhaps with a slight tilt of his head. His voice would be gentle, laced with a warm curiosity: “Ah, a small ritual of comfort, I see.” There would be no judgment in his tone, only an understanding that your way of seeking peace in the world was different from his own. Elves did not need to flip their pillows; they had an ageless tranquility, a stillness that came with their nature. But Círdan would respect your small act, seeing it as a sign of your connection to the physical world, something that the long-lived Elves, with their more ethereal existence, could not fully grasp.

𓇼 He might chuckle softly, though it would be a laugh of warmth, not mockery. “I suppose I am too accustomed to eternal calm to know such fleeting discomforts. But it is… a simple joy.” There would be an affectionate tone in his voice, a recognition of the human need for such small comforts, and how they anchored you to the world in a way that the Elves, with their distance from mortality, often did not need.

𓇼 With that, Círdan would settle beside you, his presence quiet but reassuring. There was no need for grand words or gestures. The quiet understanding between you both was enough. And in that moment, he would realize that the little human habits—like flipping the pillow—were just another way your lives intertwined.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

🔥𝓐𝓭𝓪𝓻

Adar, would react to the human quirks

Friendship bracelets

☬ Adar’s expression softens briefly as he looks at the handcuffs, his sharp, calculating eyes assessing the situation. For a moment, he remains silent, his usual cold demeanor flickering with confusion. His fingers brush lightly over the metal cuffs, feeling their weight, but there’s no sign of amusement or warmth. Instead, a deep, calculating thought crosses his mind.

☬ “You think… this is a gesture of closeness?” His voice is low, measured, tinged with a hint of skepticism. The thought of being tethered to someone else, even in a seemingly innocent gesture, doesn’t sit well with him. Despite his occasional tenderness toward the Orcs, he’s not accustomed to bonds that he can’t control. His eyes narrow as he considers how best to respond, his hand instinctively tightening on the cuff, pulling slightly.

☬ “It’s a chain,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “A reminder of where we all belong.” His words carry an undercurrent of bitterness, as though the cuffs represent a deeper truth about power and control—something he knows all too well.

☬ He doesn’t yank at the cuffs, but there’s an unspoken weight in his stance, his mind already shifting to how to turn this unspoken connection to his advantage. It’s clear that, despite the apparent softness in your gesture, Adar’s mind always operates with a darker, strategic intent.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Burning their tongue on food even though they just said, “This is too hot.”

☬ Adar watches you, his sharp gaze never leaving you as you burn your tongue on the food. His eyes flicker with a mix of irritation and something darker, an unreadable emotion that flashes briefly before he masks it again. When you wince in pain, he doesn’t immediately offer comfort, his mind calculating the moment like a strategist sizing up the consequences of every action.

☬ He sighs, a low, almost imperceptible sound, as if you’ve broken some unspoken rule, but there’s a bitter edge to it. “Did I not warn you?” he asks coldly, his voice carrying an unmistakable tone of frustration. He leans forward slightly, his dark, intense eyes studying you for any sign of weakness or regret.

☬ “Foolishness,” he mutters, shaking his head. Despite the apparent reprimand, there’s a strange sense of detachment in his words—like a father disappointed in his child’s disobedience, but unable to fully express the concern buried beneath his stern demeanor. “You could have avoided it, yet you chose to ignore the warning.”

☬ He watches you struggle with the pain, a hint of something softer flashing across his face. It’s not pity, but a rare, fleeting concern for you as someone he is reluctantly tethered to. His hand twitches slightly, almost as if to reach out, but it stops short, the chains of his own emotions pulling him back.

☬ “If you’re going to endure, at least do so with some sense,” he adds, his voice quieter, though still sharp with the remnants of command. “I won’t have you hurt yourself because of ignorance. Next time, listen to the warning.” There’s an edge of finality in his words, but also something darker—a reminder that even small actions have consequences, and with him, the lesson might be more painful than expected.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Laughing so hard you start hiccupping or snorting as if some sort of animal (pig) or dying animal).

☬ Adar watches you closely, his sharp, calculating gaze fixed on you as you laugh uncontrollably, hiccupping and snorting in a way that echoes through the air. At first, he remains still, eyes narrowing slightly as the strange, unrefined sounds fill the space between you. His expression remains unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something—discomfort or maybe even irritation—beneath his composed exterior.

☬ He stands motionless for a moment, his mind dissecting the situation. “Is this supposed to amuse me?” he asks, his voice low and laced with a hint of disdain. It’s not the kind of laughter that he’s accustomed to, certainly not the kind he can control or twist to his advantage. The sound of your snorting, your unrestrained display, grates against the cold, calculated environment that Adar has so carefully built around himself.

☬ A muscle in his jaw tightens, and his lips curl slightly in distaste. “I never took you for… this,” he mutters, his eyes flicking to the side in something between surprise and irritation. For a brief moment, he considers whether to simply walk away, but instead, he stays, watching you as you continue.

☬ “Enough,” he commands sharply, voice cutting through the air with cold authority. “Cease this… display.” His words aren’t accompanied by any warmth, only a deep, almost contemptuous need for order. To him, such unrefined behavior is beneath him, something chaotic that doesn’t belong in his calculated world.

☬ He watches you, but there’s something beneath his harsh exterior—an unusual flicker of curiosity. He doesn’t understand your outburst, doesn’t know what makes you laugh like this. It’s a vulnerability he’s not used to seeing in others. There’s a brief moment of silence before he speaks again, his tone softened just slightly, though it’s still sharp. “You must learn control, just as I have. Or your foolishness will undo you.”

☬ But his gaze lingers a fraction too long. The strange vulnerability in your behavior leaves a slight, nearly imperceptible shift in his demeanor, a reminder that even someone like him can be caught off guard by the unexpected.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Forgetting why you walked into a room.

☬ Adar watches you as you stand there, clearly distracted, your mind seemingly adrift. He observes the moment with an unreadable expression, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as you fumble with the empty space around you, trying to recall why you walked into the room. A brief flicker of something—amusement, perhaps, or mild irritation—passes across his face, though it’s quickly masked by the cold detachment he so often wears.

☬ “Do you… find your mind wandering often?” His voice is low, but the edge of his tone is unmistakable, as though he expects more from you than simple forgetfulness. There’s a sharpness to the question, like he’s probing for weakness, testing how much control you truly have over your own thoughts and actions.

☬ He doesn’t move, instead choosing to stand with arms crossed, an imposing figure in the doorway. “You forget, and yet you stand here, unable to recall what you came for,” he observes, his voice laced with a mix of disappointment and quiet condescension. “Such disorganization would not be tolerated in my presence. Focus. Purpose. It is how the strong survive.”

☬ He takes a slow step forward, his gaze never leaving you, as if assessing whether this lapse in memory is a sign of deeper vulnerability or just a passing moment. “Perhaps this is a failure of your will,” he muses, his tone now colder, with a touch of disdain. “You should train yourself to be sharper, more disciplined.”

☬ For a moment, he remains silent, studying you with the intensity of someone who is used to being in complete control. There’s no warmth in his words, only the weight of his expectations. “Remember why you came here,” he commands, his voice firm. “And if you cannot, then I suggest you leave this place. Your mind is a tool. It should not be left to falter.”

☬ As he speaks, there’s a flicker of something more profound in his eyes, a brief understanding of the frustration that accompanies losing focus, though it’s quickly swallowed by his usual icy demeanor. Yet, in that small moment, there’s a rare glimmer of the complexity within Adar—a leader who, despite his harshness, understands the fine balance of control, even over one’s own mind.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You Flipping the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in.

☬ Adar watches you with an intensity that never seems to waver, even in the most mundane moments. As you flip the pillow to the “cool side” before settling in, he stands still for a moment, observing the small, almost subconscious action with a certain level of curiosity. His eyes narrow slightly, analyzing the way you handle the simplest of tasks, his mind already making note of your behavior.

☬ For a brief second, there’s an odd flicker of something in his gaze—almost as if he’s trying to understand why such an action, so trivial in his mind, seems to bring you a sense of comfort. He has no such need for warmth or coolness in his rest, his body long having adapted to conditions harsher than the soft comforts of a pillow. To him, rest is something far more utilitarian, a necessary pause in the midst of his endless plans and leadership.

☬ “You are… particular,” he mutters, his tone almost disdainful but tinged with a hint of bemusement. The subtlety of your behavior doesn’t escape his notice, and he finds it… strange. To him, the act of sleep is an impersonal thing—something to be endured rather than enjoyed.

☬ His lips curl into a barely perceptible frown. “Comfort,” he continues, his voice softer now but still cutting through the air, “is a weakness. It makes you soft, distracted.” His words hang in the air, heavy with the same cold authority he commands. “In the world I know, comfort is fleeting, and even the smallest indulgences can lead to your downfall.”

☬ He doesn’t move to intervene, but his gaze lingers, almost studying you as if he’s waiting for something. As if this small act of self-care might tell him something deeper about you. Despite his harsh words, there’s a quiet complexity in his eyes—a mix of distant understanding and the distant remnants of his lost Elven nature, a memory of the small comforts that once meant something to him.

☬ “You may rest,” he says, his voice quiet, but with an undercurrent of something like… permission. It’s a strange thing for him to offer, yet, it comes naturally, almost instinctively. There’s no sense of kindness in it, but there’s something almost compassionate, as if he understands the need for small, personal rituals. “But know this,” he adds, his voice hardening once again, “comfort will not protect you from the harsh truths that lie ahead.” And with that, he turns away, leaving you to your rest, though his presence still looms in the space, heavy and ever-watchful, as though guarding you even in your most vulnerable state.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦ ꕤ ၄၃ ꕤ ✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

[reidmarieprentiss]

Unauthorized Documentary 1.5

Summary: Shenanigans, hi-jinks, Shemar being better(?)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff?

Warnings/Includes: pranks, dumb Matthew, Shemar is superior

Word count: 2.3k

a/n: he's backkkk lol seriously i love writing these

main masterlist

Fuck. Another Episode.

The camera opens on the breakroom. Cast and crew members sit at various tables, mid-coffee sip, mid-bite, mid-trying to have a peaceful moment before dealing with Matthew Gray Gubler.

Then, a loud throat-clearing.

The camera swings to Matthew, standing on top of a chair, hands clasped before him like some kind of enlightened prophet. The room collectively groans.

“Friends,” he begins, his voice rich with self-importance. “Colleagues. Unfortunate souls who have suffered my presence.” He pauses, letting the words hang, scanning the room as if expecting nods of understanding. There are none.

“I come to you today, a changed man.”

AJ leans in, whispering to you, “Didn’t he do this last month?”

You nod, barely suppressing a smirk.

The camera cuts back to Matthew, still deeply immersed in his speech. “I will be better. I will be stronger. I will—”

Shemar, arms crossed from the back of the room, cuts in. “Did you actually do anything different, or are we just supposed to pretend this means something?”

Matthew visibly falters, blinking rapidly caught off guard. He opens his mouth, closes it, and tilts his head as though re-evaluating everything.

Then, slowly, he recovers. “…It’s about the gesture, Shemar.”

Shemar scoffs. “The gesture?”

Matthew, dead serious: “Yes.”

Shemar: “Dude, if I walk up to someone, slap them in the face, then hold a press conference about how I’m the real victim, does that count as a ‘gesture’?”

Matthew gasps, offended beyond belief. “That is so unfair. When have I ever slapped anyone? Metaphorically.”

AJ looks on with an unamused face and deadpans, “Yesterday. When you ‘accidentally’ threw that script at my head.”

Matthew waves a hand dismissively. “That was an artistic outburst.”

The blonde woman rolls her eyes, “You literally yelled ‘catch, loser’ before doing it.”

Matthew deflates slightly but powers through, reaching into his pocket. “Which is why I’ve prepared these!”

He dramatically pulls out a handful of handmade friendship bracelets.

The camera zooms in. They’re horrific. Some have letters spelling out questionable phrases like “SORRY 4 CHAOS”, “GUBLER IS LOVE”, and simply “FAVORITE”. One is just beads and a single dried bean.

Lola leans in, squinting. “Is that a… kidney bean?”

Matthew looks deeply proud. “It’s a symbol, Lola.”

She stares at him. “A symbol of what, exactly?”

Matthew falters. “You know… forgiveness.”

Shemar snatches a bracelet from Matthew’s hand, inspects it, and reads it aloud. “‘To Shemar, The Hot One. Love, MGG.’”

The entire room erupts in laughter.

Matthew snatches it back. “Whoops. That one wasn’t supposed to be in circulation.”

The camera zooms in on your face. You look directly into the lens, like a character in The Office, completely done.

—

After his, frankly, atrocious attempt at an apology, Matthew takes a new approach to get back in the good graces of the cast and crew. 

Matthew’s method acting phase was, to put it lightly, a nightmare for everyone involved. It started innocently enough—he just refused to wear anything that wasn’t a cardigan. At first, people thought it was a joke. But by day five, when he showed up in three layered cardigans despite it being 85 degrees outside, the concern was real.

Then came the statistics.

“Matthew, are you eating lunch?” You asked, expecting a normal response.

Matthew didn’t even look up from the book he wasn’t actually reading. “Did you know that 62% of actors refuse method acting because it’s inconvenient to their daily life? But I, as Spencer, must remain committed—”

You blinked at him. “Okay, that’s a no.”

The worst part? He wouldn’t break character. Ever.

Cut to you, just trying to order coffee from the on-set vendor like a normal human being.

The barista was already waiting for your order when Matthew, standing beside you, adjusted his fake glasses and cleared his throat.

“Actually,” he said in full Spencer Reid voice, “caffeine increases dopamine transmission by an average of 35%, which is why—”

You did not blink. You did not move. You just stared at him.

“…I’m just trying to get a latte, man.”

The barista, clearly terrified, did not intervene.

By the time week two hit, Shemar had had enough. He devised a plan.

“Man,” Shemar said loudly one day on set, standing just within earshot of Matthew but pretending not to notice him. “Derek Morgan is just so damn cool.”

Matthew’s back was turned, but you saw him physically tense.

“The confidence,” Shemar continued. “The swagger. The way he’s the absolute best part of the show.”

Matthew’s hands curled into fists. His breathing got heavier. You could see the war happening in his brain.

Then—

“I MEAN—” he blurted out, spinning around wildly. “I am fully committed to Reid, but also, yeah, Morgan’s pretty cool—wait. Damn it.”

You and Shemar erupted in laughter as Matthew gasped in horror, realizing his method acting had crumbled before his eyes.

Cut to Matthew later that day, begrudgingly sipping coffee in a hoodie instead of a cardigan.

The method-acting phase was over.

—

Tension between Matthew and Shemar had been simmering ever since the method-acting fiasco, and now? Now, it had boiled over into an all-out battle for dominance.

It started as a small argument over who was more loved on set, but within minutes, it had escalated into a full-scale, no-holds-barred competition to determine the true favorite of the cast and crew.

Everyone immediately gathered around. This was better than an actual episode of Criminal Minds.

Challenge #1: Who Can Carry More Things at Once?

Shemar, confident as ever, didn’t even hesitate. He casually picked up six chairs, the entire coffee cart, and someone’s backpack. He made it look effortless, strolling across the set like he was on a catwalk.

The crew cheered. Someone whistled.

Matthew, refusing to back down, stepped forward, determination in his eyes.

“I can do that,” he muttered under his breath, grabbing a single folding chair and attempting to lift it dramatically over his head.

His arms immediately started shaking. His legs wobbled.

“I—I got it,” he wheezed.

He did not have it.

Cue immediate collapse.

The chair clattered to the floor as Matthew went down like a sack of flour, landing on his back with a loud oof.

Shemar stood over him, arms still full of furniture, sipping his coffee. "Yeah. That's what I thought."

Point: Shemar.

Challenge #2: The Fan Love Test

Shemar pulled out his phone, opened Instagram, and snapped a quick selfie. No effort. No filter. Just pure, effortless charisma.

Within minutes:

50,000 likes.

Hundreds of comments.

People begging him to marry them.

Matthew, meanwhile, had a vision.

He donned an old-timey hat, adjusted the lighting, and filmed a deep, avant-garde video where he dramatically monologued about "the nature of existence", pacing back and forth in a dimly lit hallway.

When he posted it, the results were… less impressive.

50 likes.

30 confused comments.

One person asked if he was okay.

Matthew stared at his phone, devastated. “They don’t get my art.”

Shemar looked over his shoulder, glanced at the post, and snorted. “Bro, you’re literally filming like you just got kicked out of a 1920s speakeasy.”

Point: Shemar.

Challenge #3: Who Can Make You Laugh First?

Shemar went first.

He didn’t even try. He just said literally anything, and you immediately laughed. Because let’s be honest, Shemar was naturally funny.

Matthew was not pleased.

“I see what’s happening here,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll have to go bigger.”

Then, without warning, he launched into full-blown slapstick mode.

No lead-up. No explanation.

One second he was standing there, the next—he tripped over absolutely nothing and faceplanted straight into craft services.

Food flew everywhere. The sound was deafening.

The crew gasped.

You? You lost it.

You were laughing so hard you had to bend over, clutching your stomach, tears streaming down your face.

“Okay, okay,” you gasped between laughs. “Matthew wins that one.”

Shemar, standing beside you, deadpan as hell: “Not fair. He’s naturally a walking disaster.”

Point: Matthew.

Final Score:

Shemar: 2 Matthew: 1 (but, honestly, at what cost?)

As the crew dispersed, Shemar clapped Matthew on the back. “Nice try, bro. But let’s be real—I own this set.”

Matthew, still covered in food, sighed dramatically. “This isn’t over.”

Then, in true Matthew Gray Gubler fashion, he turned on his heel and walked straight into a door.

You burst into laughter again.

Shemar shook his head. “Man, you really need a handler.”

Cut to you, his handler.

—

Matthew had been humiliated one too many times. The failed challenges, the method acting disaster, the relentless Shemar superiority complex—he needed to reclaim his dignity. And what better way than through a perfectly executed prank?

Or at least, that was the plan.

The target? You.

The prank? Simple. Switch your coffee with decaf.

It was supposed to be harmless. A mild inconvenience at best.

It was not.

The camera cuts to you, mid-morning, sipping from your usual coffee cup. Your eyes are sharp, focused on your work—until, suddenly, they go wide.

Something is wrong.

You pause, staring at the cup like it’s personally betrayed you. You sniff it, take another slow sip, then visibly tense.

The room goes silent.

The camera cuts to Matthew, lurking nearby, watching nervously. He shifts on his feet. He knows he did something.

Then—you snap.

Cut to you storming across the room, coffee cup clenched in your fist, shaking violently.

“You think this is a joke?” you hiss, voice low and dangerous.

The camera cuts to Matthew, now visibly terrified. He steps back, hands up in surrender. “I—I didn’t think you’d notice so fast.”

You slam the empty cup onto a table.

“No caffeine?” you breathe, voice shaking with rage. “No. Caffeine? You think I can deal with your chaotic ass with no caffeine??”

Shemar, watching from the sidelines, murmurs, “Oh, he done fucked up.”

Matthew takes one look at your face and does what any logical man would do—

He runs.

—

Later that day, Matthew walks onto set feeling a little on edge. He hasn’t seen you since The Incident. He’s convinced you cooled off during the day, and after he got you a real coffee.

He is wrong.

Very, very wrong.

As he approaches his trailer, something feels off. The air is too still. There’s an uneasy silence lingering over everything.

He opens the door.

And freezes.

His trailer is completely empty.

No furniture. No decorations. No clothes. Nothing.

It looks like it’s been raided by the FBI. Or worse—Shemar.

The only thing left? A single note taped to the wall.

It reads:

"Revenge is a dish best served hot. Unlike my coffee."

Matthew lets out an actual scream.

Cut to you, watching from a distance, sipping your fresh, fully caffeinated coffee with pure satisfaction.

Shemar pats you on the back. “Damn. Cold-blooded.”

—

The day had been long. For Matthew, excruciatingly so.

The fallout from The Coffee Incident™ still loomed over him like a storm cloud. His trailer was still empty, his pride still wounded, and worst of all—you hadn’t spoken to him all day.

Not once.

And that? That was terrifying.

Now, as the day wound down, and with all of the cameras packed away, Matthew found himself standing a few feet away from you, nervously fidgeting. You were gathering your things, calm and eerily composed.

Too composed.

He swallowed hard, hesitating before finally working up the courage to approach you.

“Hey, baby…” he said hesitantly, dragging out the words in the most cautious tone imaginable.

You didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge him. Just zipped up your bag.

Matthew’s stomach twisted.

Oh no. Oh no no no.

“Babe?” he tried again, his voice slightly more desperate now. “You’re… you’re not still mad about the whole coffee thing, right?”

Silence.

His palms sweated.

He laughed awkwardly, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “I mean… you knew it was a joke, right? A totally harmless, playful, innocent—”

You finally looked at him.

Just looked.

No smile. No expression. Just a long, slow, unreadable stare.

Matthew felt actual chills.

He took an instinctive step back. “Babe?”

You sighed, finally speaking. “I don’t know, Matthew,” you said coolly, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Was it a joke?”

Matthew’s throat went dry. He blinked rapidly, a nervous laugh bubbling out. “I—I mean, yeah! Of course! I wanted, uh, a real reaction, so I didn’t tell you, but like… I didn’t think your reaction was, um, real real…”

You tilted your head slightly, studying him like a predator sizing up its prey.

“Are you sure about that?” you asked, voice calm, steady, but somehow worse than if you had yelled.

Matthew’s brain short-circuited.

He wasn’t sure about anything anymore.

“…Yes?” he squeaked.

You hummed thoughtfully, then reached out—just a simple movement—and Matthew flinched.

“Oh my God,” you laughed suddenly, shaking your head. “You’re actually scared of me.”

Matthew, offended but still terrified, defended himself, “No, I’m not!”

You leaned in just a little, lowering your voice. “Then why are you sweating?”

Matthew instantly wiped his forehead. “I—I run hot, you know that.”

You grinned, finally smiling again, and suddenly, Matthew felt even more uneasy.

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, patting his cheek lightly before stepping past him toward the door. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

He should’ve felt relieved.

He didn’t.

“…You do?” he asked slowly, watching you with deep suspicion.

You turned back, walking backward toward the exit, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Of course,” you said sweetly.

Then, before disappearing out the door, you added, casually, almost offhand, “…But you’ll never know when I’ll get you back.”

The door clicked shut.

Matthew stood frozen, staring after you, his entire soul leaving his body.

“…Oh, I’m dead,” he whispered to himself.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 @asobeeee

[goldenroutledge]

intimidated

pairing: jj maybank x kook!reader

word count: 5.3k

summary: you’re there for jj when it matters most. (inspired by this post)

warning(s): sprinkles of angst, but fluffy in the end.

a/n: the song i had in mind while writing this was intimidated by kaytranada & h.e.r <3

jj maybank masterlist

© goldenroutledge || do not plagiarize, repost, or translate my work in any way

JJ Maybank didn’t need handouts. As he told it, his independence was his most valuable asset. It’s what made him a pogue through and through. “Is freedom anything else than the right to live as we wish?”— An Epictetus quote JJ scribbled down, bored as ever in his freshman English class. His life motto condensed into twelve simple words, whether his newfound ‘freedom’ was out of his control or not. Either way, he played the cards he was dealt.

His friends— no, scratch that— his family, were his escape to comfort. A soft, pillowy landing from the nose dive that was his life. A foreign concept to him until he met John B, then Pope, then Kiara, then you. A refuge of safety, ironically enough, given the many times you all had looked death in the face.

Even though the pogues had already started wearing matching friendship bracelets that Kiara made by the time you came along, it was a smooth transition when you were welcomed into the group with open arms. By some more than others at first, given your kook status. But just as they’d embraced Kie, your initiation into the group was no different.

While it took time for JJ in particular to come around, his reservations were understandable. At first, you gave him his space and he gave you yours. Always letting him set the tone and lead the way.

As time went on, JJ soon decided he wouldn’t mind having you around him all the time, there was no going back. JJ loved to the point of no return, and it was incomparable to anything— or how anyone else could ever make you feel.

At times, he felt like that was all he had to offer. Nothing but fierce loyalty and protection over the ones he loves most. But you. To JJ, you were the fine line between hideaway and heaven itself. Even if he thought he may not end up there, he was sure that it would be you he’d meet at heaven’s gates.

Amongst any conflict or tension within the group, you always provided a safe haven for him to retreat to, though he had difficulty admitting it. In a way you had a solution for everything. Keeping tensions low and spirits high in the process. You were the original peacemaker of the group, before his precious gun came along.

Right now, it was almost all he could think about while he sat there, beer in hand, listening to John B and Sarah argue in the distance. How he wishes you were here, to ease his nerves and settle the anxiety simmering in his chest.

JJ hated this. He hated that nobody seemed to get along anymore. With all that was going on with the others, he wouldn’t even think to mention his problems. The looming eviction notice on his house, one of few things he had left on this island. While everyone’s lives continued to progress, JJ’s was at a standstill. No job, no parents, and now his friend group was falling apart at the seams. And with everyone else occupied these days, he was alone.

JJ, selfless as usual, would hate to bother you, no matter how badly he wanted to. He knew you’d have some inspirational shit to say to him. Though he’d poked fun at it sometimes, he’d never needed anything more right now.

The sound of footsteps came before JJ saw them, watching Sarah storm off and away from John B as he stood there, tense and silent.

JJ could be hot headed at times, that was no secret. He could understand his friends' quarrels to an extent. But he couldn’t look past the fact that you all were supposed to be sticking together, especially right now. When he said that nothing good could happen once you all returned to Kildare, he knew he was right. Call it a gut feeling.

-

Naturally, Sarah told you everything. Confidant, mom-friend, advisor— all titles bestowed upon you by your close group of friends over the years. You’d always tried to be as neutral as possible in times of conflict. Though in matters of the heart it was nearly impossible.

Days after her fight with John B, she found herself laying on your bed, venting all of her bottled up frustrations about him and the state of their relationship.

“I’m a mess, Y/n. I feel like such a mess.”

You looked at her sympathetically, knowing there wasn’t much you could do. Just listen, just be there in her time of need.

“So, I took my bag from the Chateau and I left. Kie’s parents told me I couldn’t stay, then I went to JJ’s and he wasn’t home. He’s working at Guffy’s again last I heard.”

You briefly glanced up at the mention of JJ’s name— and it didn’t go unnoticed by Sarah. Instead of divulging about it, she continued her rant.

“Then I was just wandering around, because it’s not like I had anything better to do. And who sees me drinking at Tiki Bar? Topper.”

“Topper?”

“Topper.”

You internally cringed at the mention of the Thornton boy. He was always nice when you saw him, nothing bad nor good to say about him. But you knew deep down he was Sarah’s achilles heel. He reminded her of everything she once had, the person she once was. Lately, you couldn’t help but crave some normalcy too.

“So.. what happened?”

She sighs heavily, dropping her hand across her eyes. “We went to Mase.”

“Alone?”

“We went with some people from KDC. The old crew, Kelce, Phoebe…”

“Is that it?”

“We made out.”

Sarah squeezed her eyes shut in fear of your reaction, knowing it’d probably show on your face before anything.

“Oh.” You swallowed back any judgment you might’ve had, compartmentalizing your love for John B and choosing to hear Sarah out. “And how do you feel about it?”

“Awful. I mean Topper has been so good to me lately with everything going on, he’s always there to pick up the pieces and I just feel bad. It was a mistake.”

“It can’t happen again, y’know. Not if you want to work it out with John B.”

“I do, I wanna work it out with him.” She urged. “And then the next morning we had breakfast. Kie came into the restaurant and saw us together and I think she got the wrong message. She said she’s staying out of it but I can tell what she’s thinking.” Sarah takes a deep inhale, and a deep exhale to follow. “What do I do, Y/n?”

It still baffles you at times that you’ve become the voice of reason. You hope Sarah doesn’t notice that you feel uneasy about the whole thing. “Just… be honest. Don’t let John B find out from anyone other than you. He’s gonna be upset but he has a right to be.”

The blonde sits up, crawls over to you and envelopes you into her arms. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

-

Sun reflected brightly off the boats docked at the marina, the two smoothie cups in your hand sweating from the sweltering heat. Your family's boat was kept here at Guffy’s; particularly when your parents weren’t in town to cruise around the island and daydrink with their kook friends.

At least you had an alibi, just in case you happened to run into JJ. The two medium strawberry banana smoothies you carried might need some explanation, though.

Ever since you all had made it back to the island, JJ had been hard to track down. He was rarely in one place for too long. So where else better to catch him than at work?

“Y/n? How are you doing today?” Billy questions from a distance away, putting on his friendliest smile for the daughter of his best clients.

“Can’t complain. Happy to be back.”

“And it’s good to have you back. Everything alright with the boat?”

“Oh yeah, everything’s fine, I just realized I left behind my favorite sunglasses.” You explained, hoping your excuse sounded authentic enough.

“Alright. You take care, now.”

“Actually… I was wondering is JJ around?”

“Maybank? He was here a few days ago.”

“Hm, I could’ve sworn he was working today.”

Billy sighs, eyebrows furrowing. “Listen, Ms. Y/l/n, I know you want to advocate for your boyfriend and all but JJ can’t work here.”

Confusion spread through your features this time as you genuinely had no idea what the man was getting at. You chose to not correct him when he’d mistaken you for JJ’s girlfriend.

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good kid. I know he wants the job back but Guffy put a pin in it. I’m sorry. Really not much I can do.”

You forced a polite smile on your face as the dots connected, remembering the melting smoothie you held in your left hand while your half-finished one remained in your right. The two of you exchanged brief goodbyes before you quickly left the marina.

If JJ really hadn’t been working at Guffy’s again, where the hell was he? His act of disappearing was unmatched, but so was your skill of guessing.

If a game of hide-n-seek is what he wanted, a game of hide-n-seek is what he will get.

-

Grass brushed against your ankles as you approached JJ’s home, your steps careful as you looked around for him.

Going to JJ’s home was forbidden. When Luke was around, that is. He was a phantom— an ugly, dark presence looming over the quaint home that would otherwise feel serene. The chirping birds in the trees couldn’t tell the difference.

You haven't been here many times. The times you had been here weren’t anything you nor JJ wanted to remember. The feeling of uncertainty creeped into your mind from your past visits. You never knew what to expect.

To your left, there was a beautiful, never-ending view of the water past the grass of the Maybank’s yard. You hadn’t noticed that before. This spot had probably seen some beautiful sunsets. In a moment of imagination, you almost pictured sitting there with JJ on the plush green, hand in hand, watching the warm hues of the sky melt into a dark night.

The caution tape wrapping around the wood of the house caught your interest as you made your way onto the porch, also noticing the eviction letter left on the door, moving closer for a better look.

“Y/n?”

JJ called out, appearing from around the corner of his home, startling you out of concentration as you re-read the notice again and again.

As if you didn’t come over to finally see him in the first place. Though you couldn’t speak— for once unsure of what to say. ‘Sorry you’re getting evicted?’, it just didn’t sound right. Then again it might’ve been better than standing frozen and staring at him, silently, like you were doing.

“What are you doing here?”

“I- um…. I brought you a smoothie.”

You held out the cup, approaching him and handing it to him. He stood there dumbfounded, eyebrows furrowed. His lips eventually pursed into a smile as a way to say thank you. This wasn’t the relaxed JJ you were accustomed to; nonetheless he was still the JJ you loved.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. The smoothie.”

“You came all the way out here from your mansion on Figure 8 to bring me a smoothie?”

“What?” You scoffed, his tone dictating where the conversation was headed. Most likely nowhere.

“Go back to reading by your pool or something. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I haven’t heard from you in days, JJ. I’m just checking up on you.”

“So what? You touring around the Cut now? Delivering smoothies to lost pogues? Is Heyward’s your next stop?”

He resumed tinkering with his bike, and from the looks of it he was working rather aggressively— desperate to distract himself from the conversation at hand.

“I miss my best friend. Am I not allowed to miss you anymore? I mean it’s not like we were stranded on an island together… not knowing whether we would live or die!”

“Well, we’re not exactly a big happy family right now. You should know that.”

“Yeah. John B and Sarah are on some kind of break. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see you, that doesn’t have anything to do with us. I thought we were past the whole picking sides thing.”

“I’ve been busy.” JJ shrugs.

“Busy working? At the job you lied about having?”

His eyes snapped to yours immediately. Your heart clenched as soon as the words left your mouth, you didn’t mean to go too far. But at least you had his attention.

“What, are you stalking me now? Or did you hire a P.I. to figure that out?”

“Hilarious, JJ. I was at the marina earlier to grab something off my boat. Actually hoping I would run into you but, whatever.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

A few moments of awkward silence lingered between the two of you, as you kicked a pebble around with your foot.

“I know you don’t owe me anything… but you could’ve just told me.”

He paused his movements, thinking about how he was going to respond.

“Tell you what? That I prefer mixed berry over strawberry banana?” He jested, smiling to himself.

“I’m not talking about the smoothie, idiot.”

His eyes drifted over to his home, knowing exactly what you were thinking, just afraid to acknowledge it.

“My problems aren’t your problems, Y/n.”

“And I know that. I just wanna help you, however you’ll let me.”

“Well, you can help me by not helping me. I’ll figure it out. Always do.”

“All I’m saying is you don’t have to figure it out alone. I’m here.”

At that, he dropped his tools, running tense hands through his hair. “But you aren’t here! You don’t have to live like this and you should be glad that you don’t!”

He raised his voice at you, frustrated. JJ was never good at putting his feelings into words, especially when it came to actually expressing them.

He didn’t know how he could tell you about everything. The worst day he’s ever had, the lowest he’s ever been. He couldn’t see a way in which he could tell you all of it and carry on the same. You were always a constant in his life. He needed it to stay that way, by any means necessary.

“That doesn’t make sense, JJ. What’s the point of having anything nice if I can’t share it with the people I love?”

The both of you were taken aback at what your explanation implied. In actuality, it took all of your power not to say those three words to him outright. But you couldn’t, not like this.

“You don’t have to pretend to care that much. I’m sure you can find another community service project to focus on.”

“Community service?” You chuckled emptily, baffled at his ridiculousness, though deep down you knew this was how he dealt with things. He simply didn’t know anything other than defensiveness. “That’s what you think this is?”

JJ closed his eyes in exasperation, wishing this conversation away. He could hear it in your voice, your feelings were hurt. Maybe not as bad as when your 8th grade crush asked someone else to the Valentine’s dance— but even a little was too much.

“If you’re gonna reduce our decade of friendship to me doing charity work, I guess there’s no changing your mind. I’m just wasting my breath.”

The words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to apologize instantly, but now he wasn’t sure if his apologies were something you’d wanna hear at the moment. He wasn’t sure if you’d believe him.

For all the disingenuous apologies he’d accepted over the years, he’d hate to put you on the receiving end of one. Even if his heart truly was in the right place, JJ couldn’t muster up the courage to show it.

“You don’t have to antagonize me. Because everything you’re blaming me for, it isn’t my fault. Just like this isn’t your fault either.” You gestured to the eviction notice at his door.

“Yeah.” He mumbled. “You’re right.”

“Say what you want about me, but I just wanna know that you’re okay. And if it’s an apology you’re looking for, you’re not gonna get it. I’ll never apologize for that.”

He nodded, unsure of what else to say. All he could do was try to understand.

Realizing he had no further comments, you turned your back to leave.

“Will I see you at the Chateau tomorrow?” You asked over your shoulder, hope remaining in your voice despite the uneasiness that remained between you two.

“Don’t count on it.”

“Alright, well… bye.”

JJ waves, before muttering a monotone ‘thanks for the smoothie’ as he watches you go.

-

Since returning to the island, it was an unspoken thing that you all were to meet up at the Chateau at some point. And with all the new developments in your lives lately, these meetings were much needed.

Pope handed you a beer as he came into John B’s living room, opening one of his own as he sat down beside you.

John B and Sarah seemed to be laying low, but it was clear they were back together or had come to some sort of resolution.

Kiara was going on about how much shit her parents had been giving her lately. They’d been hovering— watching over their daughter’s every move from the moment she set foot on the island again.

Pope told the group about how Cleo had won over Heywar in record time, much faster than John B or JJ. Pope’s parents simply wanted the best for him, and knew that the danger and mischief his friends came with couldn’t be productive.

“We’ve been best friends for what…? 13 years?” John B recalls. “And your dad can hardly stand the sight of me but Cleo won him over in a few minutes? How?”

“Are you surprised?”

“Not at all.” John B holds his hands up in surrender to Cleo, Pope smirking beside her as he witnesses the interaction. “Just confused.”

“I have many superpowers, John.”

“Apparently! Winning over Heyward is like, unheard of in this group. At least for JJ and me.” John B explains, sipping his beer.

“Speaking of, where’s he at?”

At the shift in conversation, you can feel several pairs of eyes fall upon you. All you can do is act as normal as possible, tipping off any of your friends always ends badly in the case of keeping a secret. Until the cat’s out of the bag, your friends will make it their personal mission to reveal whatever it is you’re hiding.

You raised your eyebrows, pretending to only catch onto their stares moments later. “Why’re you looking at me?”

“No reason. It’s not like you guys are secretly together or anything.” Pope mutters under his breath, catching a glare from you at his false claim.

“We’re not. I wouldn’t know where he is.”

John B hisses, pretending to shiver. “Is it a little chilly in here? Or is that just Y/n’s cold shoulder?”

You roll your eyes, further proving his point until Sarah chimes in, pondering if she should speak up about what she knows.

“I actually stopped by JJ’s the other day. He.. wasn’t home.”

“Oh yeah, didn’t he go fishing? Probably not back yet.” John B remembers.

“I don’t think he’ll be going home anytime soon.”

At this your eyes meet Sarah’s hazel ones, full of hesitation. You shoot her a look of ‘whatever you’re about to say, don’t’, and you hope she is wise enough to pick up on it.

“Why is that?” Kiara questions, confused.

“He got evicted.” Sarah blurts, regret spreading through her expression as she sees you react; you don’t react. And that slightly terrifies her.

“Really?” Pope asks in disbelief, though not too surprised. More so disappointed that his best friend had to endure this, silently at that.

“Yeah. When was the last time anyone’s heard from him?”

The group silently recollects for a few moments, Kie pulls out her phone to review her latest texts with the man in question.

Instead, you’re wondering how the hell Sarah even knew about this to begin with. How long could she know about this and just stay silent? Forget not telling the group, how long could she keep this from you? How could she not help her friend who was clearly in need of support?

“How long have you known?”

Sarah appears confused, wondering where your line of questioning is coming from.

“I- uh. After John B and I fought I went there, remember Y/n? I was hoping I could stay but he wasn’t home. That’s when I saw the eviction notice.”

“And you waited, I don’t know, a week to bring that up?”

“Y/n, it’s not like I intentionally kept this from you, okay? We know how protective you are over JJ.”

Her words strike a cord within you, already on edge regarding JJ Maybank because of your argument with him the day prior. It was still a sore subject, even more so made by having no one to confide in about it.

“It’s not about that, Sarah. You didn’t even have to tell anyone at all but you didn’t think to maybe find out if he’s okay? At the very least?”

“I was a bit homeless at the time, Y/n, sorry about that.”

“Oh, right. You were too busy hooking up with Topper to care about the well-being of our best friend? Good to know the bare minimum is impossible for you.”

Sarah scoffs, John B shakes his head in exasperation. Kiara stays silent mostly, being no stranger to your and Sarah’s sister-like fights. She couldn’t even disagree with you, though with her parents keeping her on lockdown it was hard to do anything about it. She wasn’t in a place to have an opinion.

Pope and Cleo shared looks, communicating wordlessly as they had grown to do. Being away at Heyward’s kept them out of the loop quite a bit.

“JJ will figure it out, Y/n. Relax.” John B reassured. Though he was defending his girlfriend, now that they were in a ‘good place’ again, you felt anything but reassured at his carelessness around the subject. You’d think of all of you, John B would understand the most.

“Relax? Why should I relax if JJ is in trouble? If anything, you’re too relaxed!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way but you don’t have to take it out on Sarah, this isn’t even her fault! Not all of us want to fight your battles.”

“If you had any sense left you’d realize this isn’t about me. This is about our friend, who I thought we all cared about. At least enough to share this kind of news. We’re talking about his well-being here, I mean he’s losing the house he grew up in and nobody seems to care about that?”

“If he wanted us to know, he’d tell us.”

“Like he’s ever going to do that! You know better than anyway that he won’t!”

“It’s not my problem.”

“Mhm. It’s a shame JJ’s busy solving all of yours.”

“Y/n, please. Can we just have a chill night?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be his ‘best friend since the third grade?’ Because you don’t fucking act like it.” You huffed, standing up to get rid of your beer can. At this point you were rambling to yourself, more than okay with the group hearing what you really thought about them and their carelessness for the situation.

“Indeed. Which is why I don’t need to force him to tell me shit, okay?”

“Why are you such an asshole, John B?”

“Y/n, I just found my dad. So, excuse me if JJ’s living situation isn’t at the forefront of my mind.”

“I never said it had to be, but you’re acting like you don’t even care!”

“I do care! We all do!” John B shouts. “And maybe if you’d let up on him he’d actually come to you about this stuff!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m saying, maybe JJ would give you the love you so desperately crave if you weren’t fucking suffocating him.”

“John B!” Kiara warns.

Sarah held her face in her hands, knowing John B had crossed the line. Maybe he had one too many beers in his system. Either way, hell was about to break loose. And when it came to JJ, hell hath no fury like you did.

Your head felt like it was about to explode. How could your friends seem to be so comfortable with this? The same friends that claimed to leave no pogue behind, to never turn their back on one of their own.

If that was true, then what was this? From the looks of it, nobody even pretended to give a damn.

“You’re fucking terrible, John B. This isn’t even about me at all! You just can’t stop deflecting from what a shitty friend you are. I mean, JJ would die for literally every last one of you guys. And he almost did! On multiple occasions! But instead you’re gonna neglect the one person who's seen you through all your bullshit and as soon as it’s over you’re gonna pretend like nothing happened? Like the Earth is back on its axis? The world doesn’t fucking revolve around you, John B. That’s just not- that’s not something you do to someone you love.”

There wasn’t a need to announce your departure, as it was so quiet inside that you could hear your own breathing.

As hard as it was to fight with John B like that, you couldn’t deny the weight that had been lifted off your chest. Your spirit was lighter. It was therapeutic, really. So therapeutic you felt peaceful enough to go home and take the longest nap ever recorded, maybe in John B’s own hammock just to prove a point.

Entranced in your own thoughts, you didn’t even register JJ resting in the hammock himself, hands intertwined behind his head. Not asleep, but wondering what your next words will be. The walls of the Chateau were thin enough, echoes of your voices amplified by the open windows.

He wasn’t sure if you simply didn’t notice his presence or if you were flat out ignoring him, walking past like he was invisible. Testing the waters, he called out from behind you.

“I never really thanked you for the smoothie.”

You froze in your tracks, face heating up and muscles tensing at the thought of the argument he probably just heard and decided not to barge in on.

“It’s alright. Wasn’t looking for praise.”

JJ met you halfway, taking note of your tired eyes and your feet dragging against the grass.

“So, what? You’re picking fights for me now?”

“You heard?”

“I think Ward Cameron heard. All the way from Guadalupe.”

“Stop it.” You warned, cracking a smile for a split second. JJ was good at that. Making you smile no matter the circumstances. “I stand up against injustice. That’s all.”

“Then are you still mad at me?”

“About what?”

“Yesterday. The whole… note on door situation.”

“Could never be mad at you, JJ. Especially not about that.”

He softly smiles, one that you return. It’s been a long time since you’d shared a small moment like this. Too long.

He gestures for you to come closer and slide into his arms as he’d held them out for you, just like you belong there.

“I am sorry, though.” JJ mumbles the words softly, almost into the crook of your neck as if he was speaking to you and you only. “I know you’re just trying to stick around for me.”

“Yeah. Just trying to be wherever you are.”

“You don’t have to fight for me, y’know.” I’m already here. Though you may not have caught on instantly, nothing he’s ever said has made as much sense.

“Sorry, J. Sometimes I just feel like we don’t deserve you. Like I don’t deserve you.” You admitted sheepishly.

JJ scoffs, and you’re not sure why. He’s often sarcastic, but it’s hard to tell what he’s really thinking in these situations.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Y/n?”

Your eyes meet his, hesitation behind them.

“You’re the one who doesn’t deserve me? Is that a joke?”

You looked at him as if it were obvious, like the line had already been drawn in the sand. This fact had already been decided; there was no going back, not now, and not ever.

“I know I’m not the smartest person, okay, but you’re making no sense.”

“Come again?” You asked, equally as confused as he was. It was incredulous for anyone to believe JJ of all people wasn’t worth it— as if he wasn’t worth someone who would go to the ends of the Earth for him, someone who would defend him six ways to Sunday. There was no one in your life more deserving of such a thing.

“Listen, Y/n...”

“No! You listen. Nobody should treat you like that. Especially our friends! As if their problems are bigger than yours or something. It’s just fucked up for any one of them to act like they don’t care because I know deep down, they do. They care just like I do but they just suck at showing it. Mostly John B. He sucks the most. And I’m not exempt either, I mean I should’ve checked on you sooner-”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda.” JJ interrupted, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Y/n, it’s okay. I don’t need anything.”

“I know that. I just want to love you. Because I really do. I really love you, JJ. Like bad. So bad that it’s probably sad at this point but I really don’t care anymore! Not about what John B has to say, not about anything, because I’ll never regret it. I’ll never wish that I didn’t love you.”

That stupid weight again, feeling as if it’s taking off like a rocketship and leaving your conscience for good. It makes you want to scream the words from the rooftops. Over and over and over again.

Confessing feels good, but kissing JJ feels damn euphoric. His lips are on yours before you can even register what’s happening, too busy being self-aware to realize the way his eyes turned glossy, or the way he’s gently got one hand on your waist and one hand caressing your cheek.

“He’s got it all wrong. I love you, too.” JJ confesses after pulling away from you, briefly taking his eyes off yours to glance at the Chateau. His head shakes as he says it, that starry glint in his eyes so undeniably present. “So bad.”

He earns a giggle out of you as he mocked your words to him just a few moments ago. But now, things were changing. He couldn’t stand before you and pretend he didn’t feel the way he did. Not anymore, not ever again.

Not after you’d shown your love for him so confidently to everybody, time and time again. JJ Maybank wasn’t sure about many things in life, but you weren’t one of them. This was surely the best decision he’d made in years.

“Come over.” You whine between kisses, breaking him out of his trance. If you let him, he��d kiss you forever, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

JJ raises his eyebrows, smirking.

“For dinner. We’re having sloppy joes.”

JJ, unresisting temptation, leans in again and moans against your lips dramatically. “What about dessert?”

You give his hair a tug and kiss the smirk off his face, whispering to him a secret.

“And maybe dessert.”

taglist: @ilovejjmaybank @missevi @nxsmss @cameronsrafe @msgorillagripcoochie @bibliophilewednesday @tovvaa @rudybarnes @annab-nana @reawritesthings @moniamaybank @outerbankspreferences @laneylaneylaney @jjpouggues @pogueslandia @mildkleptomaniac @whcclxr @mrs-cameron @it-was-never-meant-to-be-boys @alanniys @amourology @luversgirl @marjorieswrld + jj maybank taglist: @destourtereaux

[coeurdelain]

It’s hilarious that Gwynriels don’t understand or rather, refuse to understand the concept of Lightsingers.

“Why would someone who makes friendship bracelets be an evil lightsinger? How could she possibly lure the spymaster and shadowsinger of the Night Court?

I don’t know maybe don’t be delusional and reread the definition again : Lightsingers are seen as lovely and friendly, and it’s only afterward that you see their true face.

Btw, yes, thank you for the theory :

Isn’t Truth-Teller Azriel’s weapon? And Someone seemed to know the weapon Nesta used to behead the King even though she had no contact with the outside world. And It must be pretty hard to get your hands on a man who hears everything, watches everything, and never lets his guard down.

But a Lightsinger who can lure his shadows, calm them, him and leave him unprotected… now that’s another story.

I’m not saying it’s going to happen, that she’s going to be 100% evil. we can’t know that. But what I do know is that she fits the definition of a Lightsinger. I said I would stop talking about this theory, but I just can’t.

And It’s funny but if people can make theories about Elain, Rhys, and Mor being evil, I don’t see why I can’t theorize about this.

[saintobio]

bf!sukuna who knows you love taylor swift, so he surprises you with a ticket to the eras tour on your birthday even though he claims pop music to be an abomination to this world. on the day of the concert, he tells you that wearing a travis kelce jersey is the closest thing you’ll get him to wear to try and be a part of the crowd, and insists that heavy metal music is still heaps better than whatever this bs is. he pretends to look bored throughout the concert, sighing and rolling his eyes each time you look back at him. when, the truth is, he actually enjoys how fun and loud the crowd can get. he also doesn’t understand why girls were randomly giving him these so-called ‘friendship bracelets’, but doesn’t mind that half his arm is almost full of it. he keeps reminding you that isn’t his scene and that he’s only there for you, when he knows he loves watching you sing your heart out on every song, taking candid videos of you so he can post it in his ig story with the caption, “at least my baby’s happy”. you turn around just as he posts it and laugh as you catch him singing the lyrics to fearless.