#self study hell i hate it here

[gomzdrawfr]

having a keyboard going clicliclicliclicalcalcalcalcalclclalcalcl does boost my productivity

[mybigsnowman]

anything for you

pairing sylus x afab!reader

summary sylus turns up at your apartment after you accidentally text him while in pain

tags second-person pov, sick fic, pre-relationship, pre-friendship too, reader is wary of sylus, uterus related pain, not a period fic, lowkey doctor hate

word count 1.2k

note somewhat of a character study if u really squint and very self indulgent, almost a vent fic, and written about my own pain while I was suffering at the hospital, pre-period cramps are like hell. you can tell how frustrated I am with doctors...

cross posted to ao3

I think I need to go to the hospital.

Sylus assumed that you'd sent the text to the wrong person. He tried calling you to no avail. Twice, three times, the phone rang and rang before going to voicemail. Mephisto’s view was dark, your curtains were drawn shut and if it wasn't for the motorcycle outside he would've assumed you were out. He opened the text again and debated on what to do.

You wouldn't send him this, not now at least, he could tell you were still wary of him. But he couldn't ignore it. He was already close by meeting a buyer in Linkon; it wouldn't take long to check on you, twenty minutes if he speeds —and he does.

When he arrived your curtains were still drawn. A part of him began doubting if you were even home. Maybe you got injured on the job; you didn't always drive yourself to work. It was a possibility he'd think of after checking your apartment. He was calm and rational even in moments of stress, this didn't rattle him. He would find you if you weren't here. He found you before and he'd find you again.

He heard the muffled sound of the television when he reached your door. You were probably home so he tried to knock. Once, twice, three times—there was no answer. So he resorted to what he knew best and destroyed the lock. He'd fix it for you later.

The inside was dark, only the faint glow of the television filled the place. He saw you curled in on yourself with half your face squished down on the couch, and if it wasn't for the sudden shift of your body he would've assumed the worst. 

Before he could get closer, he saw your head move as you turned to face him. You were fine enough to still be alert; whatever pain you were in wasn't deadly.  

You squinted, for a moment not recognising the looming figure in the dark room. But your mind caught up; it could only be one person. “Sylus? What are you doing here?”

“You texted me.”

You tried to push yourself up to look for your phone but grimaced at the sudden movement as another cramp shot through your lower abdomen causing you to inhale sharply. You were taking laboured breaths with every movement.

Sylus finally saw the sweat on your skin, your shirt was stuck to your body. “Let me help you up.”

“You don't need to. I'm fine.” Giving up on sitting, you patted around for your phone. You were certain you hadn't texted him. The last person you were talking to was Tara, you were sure of that. Finally, you found it lodged between the back of the couch and the cushions. Your eyes burned as they adjusted to the sudden brightness.

Sylus watched your face as you unlocked your phone. The bright screen illuminated your features making your tense expression obvious. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to send that to you.”

Although he'd expected it, Sylus still felt wounded that you wouldn't rely on him. But alas, he was here and he would help you. Without asking why you were in pain he spoke up again, “Let me get you to the hospital.”

“You don't need to, I'm fine, really.” You hated the position you were in, the pain had subsided slightly, but you were still vulnerable in front of him. It scared you—he still scared you. You never gave him the pin to your door, he'd clearly broken in. And maybe it was out of worry, or something else, you still couldn't figure out his true intentions when it came to you.

“You don't have to pretend to be strong, sweetie.”

“Why did you even come here? Were you worried about me?”

Sylus couldn't answer. It was a simple yes, he was worried about you, but he could see it in your eyes that you wouldn't believe him. You were already on edge because of the pain.

“Do you like me, Sylus?”

You were relentless. Even while in pain you mocked him with a question you'd asked before—a question he couldn't answer without giving away too much. It was a yes, always a yes. 

But before he could give you a dismissive answer, he heard you groan in pain. 

And before he could get closer to check on you, you dismissed him. “Just get me painkillers. The medicine box is in the kitchen.”

He obeyed you, whatever you wanted. He brought your medicine storage box over with a cup of water after turning the lights on. 

You'd finally managed to sit up, you were still curled in on yourself while sitting. Your hand reached out for the medicine box when he got closer. You rummaged around a bit before finally finding the pill package. You downed two, all the time feeling Sylus’ strong gaze on you. You probably looked like a mess, you'd been crying before you fell asleep.

He finally spoke up again, “Are you sure you don't need to go to the hospital?”

“There's no point,” you said as you closed your eyes and leaned your head back. “They'll say nothing’s wrong.”

“We’ll go to another hospital then.”

“Do you think I haven't tried?” Your words had more bite to them than you intended, but you were in pain, and still wary of his presence—you couldn't really control it. His need to throw solutions at you like everything was easy if you just tried hard enough was irritating, so you explained it further, trying to convince him how useless these doctors were. “I've gone to ten different clinics. They all say it's normal, just regular pain before my period. Even though I can't breathe or move right. It's stupid.”

Sylus could hear how frustrated you were, you sounded like you had a lump in your throat. 

“Fuck, it really feels like I'm having contractions,” you said with a breathy laugh hoping to dissipate some of the tension, but even that mild action hurt.

“I'll find you a good doctor.”

“I'm sure you will.” Your reply was mocking, and dismissive, but a part of you hoped that he could. Every gynaecologist in Linkon was useless but maybe the N109 zone had someone special, a doctor that wouldn't just say it's anxiety or dismiss your pain altogether; the thought nearly made you laugh. It really would be a feat if Sylus found someone.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, you can leave.” You wanted to thank him but it felt strange.

“I can't. Your lock’s broken.”

You sighed in frustration and rubbed your eyes. “Fix it then.”

“I will, anything for you.”

You hated his tone—always too earnest. He listened to you like a loyal dog sometimes; he listened like he owed you something. 

You'd take advantage of it if he wanted to be this way. “I want to eat something.”

“Tell me what you want.”

He ordered what you demanded of him before asking you where the toolbox was. 

Your eyes lingered on him as he knelt in front of the door, fixing the lock all on his own. He could’ve called someone to do it, it would’ve been easier, he didn’t have to stoop so low for you. Your eyes grew heavier as you watched him work. Your body betrayed your mind; all the wariness you felt towards him wasn’t enough to stop the ease that spread through your limbs. Perhaps subconsciously his presence felt familiar. 

Your eyes closed as your cramps subsided significantly. You felt yourself doze off as the sound of Sylus fixing your lock lulled you to sleep. 

[w1w2]

The Price of Affection

Part 1 | Next part

Minatozaki Sana x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 7,5k

Synopsis: In a world of untouchable wealth and carefully drawn boundaries, Y/N is thrust into an arrangement that offers her everything.

Req by Anon

Notes: It was long as hell, so I split it into a few parts. I'm sorry for taking this long! Hope you won’t hate me, Anon.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The lounge hummed with quiet opulence, a symphony of clinking crystal, hushed negotiations, and polished laughter. Conversations wove through the air like invisible threads, merging seamlessly with the sultry strains of a live jazz ensemble. The scent of aged whiskey and rich cigars mingled with undertones of leather and expensive cologne, a reminder that this was a space reserved for those who had long since stopped checking price tags.

Golden chandeliers hung low, their soft glow casting elongated shadows against the sleek mahogany walls. The marble bar gleamed under the ambient lighting, tended by bartenders who moved with the efficiency of seasoned performers. Every guest was adorned in luxury, bespoke suits tailored to perfection, silk dresses that shimmered with the subtlest shift of movement, diamonds catching the light like scattered constellations. This was a world where wealth was not merely owned but worn like a second skin.

At the far end of the private lounge, draped in both luxury and disinterest, sat Minatozaki Sana.

She occupied a sleek leather couch with effortless poise, the dim lighting painting soft highlights along the delicate curve of her cheekbones and the sharp cut of her jaw. A vision of control, her every movement was deliberate, from the idle swirl of deep red wine in her crystal glass to the slow, practiced exhale of breath. There was a sharpness to her beauty, something untouchable, as if she existed slightly beyond reach.

The people surrounding her, business moguls, industry giants, men who held cities in the palms of their hands, laughed and indulged, their voices rich with self-importance. Yet, despite the company, Sana remained an island unto herself, detached and untouchable.

Another deal closed. Another night wasted.

The conversation around her was nothing more than static, the same rehearsed exchanges of power and influence. Sycophants eager to please, women and men eager to be noticed. It was all so predictable.

She exhaled slowly, bringing the wine glass to her lips, the deep red liquid barely stirring. Nothing ever excited her anymore. No person, no indulgence, no game.

Until her gaze drifted across the room.

And landed on her.

Y/N weaved gracefully through the crowded lounge, her movements fluid and practiced as she balanced a tray of half-empty glasses. The clink of glass on glass, the faint murmur of conversation, and the subtle scrape of high heels against polished floors, these sounds were as familiar to her as the rhythm of her own heartbeat. She had done this countless times, her every step marked by the same choreographed precision, but tonight, there was something different about her.

Dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt that was ironed to perfection, paired with a fitted black vest and black slacks, she blended in with the other servers, yet there was something in her demeanor that set her apart. While others moved with the mechanical, well-practiced motions of hired hands, Y/N moved with purpose, with an awareness. Her sharp eyes, dark and perceptive, flicked across the room with a mixture of admiration and distance, as though she were a spectator in a world she didn’t quite belong to, yet couldn’t help but be fascinated by. She watched with a quiet intensity, like an artist studying the brushstrokes of a masterpiece she could never own.

Her gaze lingered on the finely dressed guests, their laughter like music to her ears but hollow to her soul. There was elegance here, yes, but a kind of elegance that felt put on, like a mask worn by those who didn’t want to be seen as they truly were. As she carefully set down a glass on a polished table, her fingers absently twirled the end of a worn pencil tucked behind her ear, a habit she hadn’t yet broken. The pencil was out of place in such a high-end environment, but it was hers, a small piece of her amidst a sea of luxury.

Beneath the hem of her apron, a small, pocket-sized sketchpad peeked out, the edges frayed from use.

She shouldn’t be doing this.

But she couldn’t help herself.

At every pause, in between serving, when the momentary stillness allowed for a breath of freedom, Y/N would slip the pad from her apron and open it to an empty page. The world around her, with all its gilded trappings, seemed to call to her like a strange siren song. She saw things others didn’t. The elegant hand of a woman reaching for a drink, her fingers delicate and poised as if the glass itself were a work of art. The subtle smirk of a man as he spoke to a woman, his lips curling in a way that wasn’t quite friendly, but not quite sinister either. The lonely, almost imperceptible tilt of a woman’s shoulders, even though she was surrounded by others, her neck heavy with jewels that could’ve bought an entire house.

Y/N’s pencil would dance across the page, capturing these moments with a fierce, quiet intensity. She could never get enough of it, the art of watching, of understanding the stories woven into the expressions and gestures of others.

This world... It fascinated her. It disgusted her. It wasn’t hers. And yet, every time her fingers moved across the paper, there was a strange, magnetic pull, an urge to capture it, to understand it, to make it hers for just a moment.

Why?

Perhaps it was the way people looked so sure of themselves here, so untouchable. Or perhaps it was the way the wealth clung to them, as if it had become part of their skin, their souls. The opulence was suffocating, yet every time she looked up, she found herself wondering how it would feel to be a part of it. To slip into the conversation without hesitation. To raise a glass and never think twice about the cost.

But that wasn’t her world. Not really.

Y/N didn’t belong to these people, and they certainly didn’t belong to her.

And yet, there was something in her chest, an ache, a longing, that kept her tethered to this place. To them.

As she returned to the bar to refill another glass, her attention once again caught on the high society that seemed to swirl around her like a powerful, intoxicating current. Her eyes flicked from person to person, from laughter to clinking glasses, but there was something different this time. A shift in the air. A strange sensation of being watched.

What she didn’t know, what she failed to notice, was that someone else was looking at her. From across the room, beneath the soft golden glow of the chandelier, eyes followed her every movement.

The gaze was intense. Calculating.

Minatozaki Sana had been watching her for some time.

Sana tapped a manicured finger against the rim of her wine glass, the slow, rhythmic motion a stark contrast to the sharp flick of her gaze. Across the room, between the ebb and flow of servers weaving through the crowd, a singular figure had captured her attention.

The girl with the sketchpad.

She watched as Y/N’s fingers moved with a quiet urgency, her pencil gliding over the paper in fluid, almost instinctive strokes. Her movements were precise but unhurried, as if she were racing against time yet savoring every second. Capturing something fleeting before it could dissolve into the background noise of wealth and indulgence.

Curious.

Sana had seen a lot of things in her life. Too much.

She had met people who built empires with their words and crushed fortunes with a flick of their wrist. People who whispered deals over glasses of the finest whiskey, their smiles razor-sharp, their intentions sharper. And she had met those who clung to power, desperate, bending at the knee to earn a place at the table.

Yet not a single one of them intrigued her.

They were all the same—predictable, rehearsed, painfully transparent in their greed or admiration. Some wanted her attention, others wanted her favor. But this girl?

She was different.

While others indulged in the luxury surrounding them, Y/N was simply observing, sketching, memorizing, dissecting the details of a world she wasn’t truly a part of.

Oblivious to the fact that a woman who could buy and sell entire companies was watching her.

Sana’s lips curled into the faintest smirk. How refreshing.

She set her glass down with the lightest clink, the crimson wine swirling as she leaned back against the couch.

“Who is she?” she murmured, her voice soft yet edged with quiet authority.

The man beside her, a senior business partner whose name she had long since stopped caring about, followed her gaze with a lazy chuckle. He was old enough to be her father, his presence tolerated only because of his wealth and the fact that he still served some use to her family’s empire.

“Just a server, I assume,” he said dismissively, swirling the liquor in his own glass. “These places always hire fresh-faced kids to make the guests feel younger.”

Sana didn’t respond immediately. She merely tilted her head, watching Y/N tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a smudge of graphite lingering on her fingertips.

She didn’t seem like someone who belonged here. And yet, she carried herself with a quiet resilience that set her apart from the other staff.

She didn’t seem like the usual type.

“She doesn’t seem like the usual type,” Sana mused aloud, her voice betraying a hint of amusement.

Her business partner huffed, as if bored with the subject already. “Well, if you want her, I’m sure she can be arranged.”

Sana’s fingers, still resting against her glass, went still.

The offhanded way he said it, as if he were offering an accessory, not a person, made something in her stomach twist, though she masked it well.

She had seen this side of the world too often, the way people with wealth and power treated those without it. Like objects. Like commodities to be bought and discarded when no longer entertaining.

And the most disgusting part? She had once played that game too.

Sana’s smirk didn’t falter, but something behind her eyes darkened. She hated men like him. Men who assumed everyone had a price because, in their world, they always did.

She ignored him. She always ignored people like him.

Instead, she stood with slow, deliberate grace, the soft rustle of her dress barely audible over the hum of conversation.

“I think I’ll introduce myself,” she murmured, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her sleeve.

And then, without another word, Minatozaki Sana crossed the room, closing the distance between them.

Y/N had long since perfected the art of moving unnoticed.

She had learned how to shrink into the background, how to exist in the peripheral vision of others without ever drawing their attention. It was a skill, a survival tactic honed over years of navigating spaces where she didn’t quite belong. She moved through the lounge with quiet efficiency, weaving between tables, balancing a tray with the kind of practiced grace that only came from desperation, not devotion.

The elite never truly looked at people like her. Not really.

To them, she wasn’t a person, just a function. A faceless server in a neatly pressed uniform. A pair of hands delivering their next drink. A voice that responded with, "Right away, ma’am," or "Of course, sir." Nothing more.

That was why she felt it immediately. The weight of a gaze.

It pressed against her skin, subtle yet inescapable, not unlike the slow burn of a candle’s flame held just close enough to feel the heat, but not close enough to burn. It wasn’t the casual glance of a guest scanning the room, nor the drunken, lingering stares she had long since learned to ignore.

This gaze was deliberate. Measured. Unrelenting.

Y/N’s fingers curled around the edge of her tray, her grip tightening instinctively. Had she done something wrong? She had been careful, hadn’t she? No one had seen her sketching. No one ever noticed her.

So why did it feel like someone was watching her?

Her breath shallowed, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. Don’t look up. She should have just kept moving, kept her head down, but the weight of that stare demanded acknowledgment.

She swallowed, set down an empty glass at the bar with careful precision, and finally, lifted her gaze.

And there she was. 

The world around her tilted, or maybe it simply blurred. Minatozaki Sana was not supposed to be looking at her.

Y/N’s breath hitched.

She had seen beauty before, but never like this.

Sana moved through the crowd as though she had been crafted for it, her very existence a study in control and elegance. She was an untouchable masterpiece, a woman who had everything and still carried herself like she had never needed to chase anything in her life. Her deep burgundy satin dress clung to her frame like liquid wealth, the fabric shifting and catching the soft golden glow of the chandeliers, as if the light itself wanted to worship her.

But it wasn’t her beauty that froze Y/N in place. It was her eyes. Dark. Sharp. Unwavering.

She was looking at her. No, studying her.

Y/N’s entire body went rigid, every instinct screaming that she should move, leave, disappear, but she couldn’t. The space between them crackled, heavy with something unspoken.

Why was she looking at her? A trick of the light? A fleeting glance mistaken for something more?

No.

Sana’s gaze lingered, steady and unapologetic, as if she were waiting for Y/N to notice. As if she had already decided something.

And then, she started walking toward her.

Sana didn’t rush.

Her steps were slow, deliberate, as if the space between them was hers to control, as if she had already decided that the distance would close only when she allowed it.

The crowd melted around her, people instinctively making way without even realizing they were doing it. Y/N watched, transfixed, as the woman, this woman, who had no business looking at her, let alone approaching her, closed the distance between them.

By the time she stopped in front of her, Y/N had to remind herself to breathe.

The air between them felt charged, thick with an intensity that made her fingers twitch against the tray she held. She didn’t know what this was, but she knew it was dangerous.

Sana tilted her head, her lips curving slightly, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was something else.

“Are you always this distracted?”

The voice was smoother than Y/N expected, low, laced with amusement, but carrying an edge of something unreadable.

Y/N blinked, willing her pulse to steady. She straightened her posture, clearing her throat before responding.

“My apologies, ma’am. Can I get you something?”

She gestured slightly to the tray, her voice neutral, professional. Unshaken. At least, that’s what she told herself.

Sana smiled. Slow. Deliberate. Dangerous. "No. But I believe I can get you something."

Y/N frowned, momentarily thrown off. “I… don’t understand.”

Sana tilted her head slightly, studying her the way a cat might study a bird, interested, entertained, but in control. “You’re an artist.”

Y/N’s stomach dropped.

Her fingers tightened around the tray. How did she know?

Sana’s gaze flicked downward, and Y/N followed it, only then realizing that, in her distraction, her sketchpad had slipped slightly from her apron pocket, the edges of a half-finished drawing peeking out.

Shit.

Sana’s eyes returned to hers, amusement flickering within them. “Relax. I’m not offended.”

Y/N swallowed. “I... It’s just a habit. I meant no disrespect, ma’am.”

Sana hummed, as if tasting the words on her tongue. “Interesting.”

Then, she took a step closer. Close enough that Y/N could catch the faintest trace of her perfume, something expensive, intoxicating, yet somehow subtle.

The kind of scent that didn’t ask for attention but demanded it anyway.

Sana leaned in just slightly, just enough that her presence became something more than casual.

“Do you always do things you’re not supposed to?”

Y/N clenched her jaw. “Only when I don’t have a choice.”

Sana’s lips curled. “Then you might like what I’m about to offer you.”

Sana didn’t waste time. She never did.

Her gaze remained steady, unwavering, as she uttered the words that would change everything.

"I have a proposition for you."

Her voice was velvet-smooth, effortlessly commanding, laced with something dangerous, something final, as if she already knew the answer before Y/N could even comprehend the question.

"One that could change your life."

Y/N barely resisted the urge to scoff. She had heard those words before.

Rich people always thought they had something to offer, always assumed that the ones beneath them were waiting, desperate, hungry for salvation, willing to sell themselves for the right price.

Y/N wasn’t one of them.

Her jaw tightened, fingers curling around the tray she still held, as if grounding herself. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Sana tilted her head slightly, studying her, deciding. How much was she willing to say?

And then, she smirked.

A subtle curve of her lips, the kind of expression that spoke of knowledge, control, certainty. The kind of smile that said, "You don’t know it yet, but you’re already mine."

“I’ve seen people chase after wealth,” she mused. “I’ve seen people give up everything for it.”

She took a slow step forward, and Y/N felt the shift in the air, the growing tension, the way the space between them shrunk.

Sana’s voice dipped lower, just enough that Y/N felt it more than heard it. "You don’t seem like one of them."

Y/N swallowed. Her pulse jumped at the insinuation.

Was it an insult? A compliment? Or was it something else entirely? She wasn’t sure.

But the way Sana looked at her, the way those dark, knowing eyes pinned her in place, made her feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and unsettling.

"I’m offering you something simple," Sana continued, her words deliberate, unhurried, as if laying down cards in a game she already knew she would win.

"Financial support. Comfort. Security."

A pause.

A moment stretched just long enough for Y/N to feel the weight of it settle in her chest.

And then "In return, you’ll belong to me."

The words sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. She took a half-step back, instinctively, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Had she heard that right?

Her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something she refused to name.

Sana let the silence linger, let the words settle in the space between them like a trap disguised as silk. Her amusement was barely concealed, hidden behind the careful, poised expression of a woman who never asked for anything, only took.

She watched Y/N’s reaction like one might watch a bird trapped inside a cage, half-curious, half-predicting exactly what would happen next.

“I don’t mean it in a cruel way,” she said, her tone almost soothing, as if this was all perfectly reasonable, as if she were simply offering Y/N a glass of wine instead of something irreversible.

“You’ll be free to live your life, to pursue your art, to do whatever you wish.”

And then, Sana lifted a perfectly manicured hand, fingers brushing against the fabric of Y/N’s vest, plucking at a stray thread as if the gesture was casual. As if it wasn’t the first time she had touched her, as if she hadn’t just rewritten the course of Y/N’s life in a single breath.

"But when I call for you, you’ll come to me."

The touch barely lasted a second, feather-light, insignificant. And yet, Y/N felt it everywhere.

A phantom warmth lingering against her skin, hot, unwanted, inescapable.

This is insane.

“This is a joke,” Y/N muttered, shaking her head, trying to shake off the weight of what was being asked of her.

“It’s not.” Sana’s response was immediate. Steady. Unshaken.

Like she was used to getting what she wanted.

Y/N let out a sharp breath, a mix of frustration and disbelief bubbling inside her.

“You’re asking me to...”

“To be mine.”

The way she said it. Unapologetic. Unwavering. Like ownership was the most natural thing in the world.

Y/N hated it. Hated the way Sana made it sound so easy. Hated the way she sounded so sure. Hated how tempting the words were.

Because what would it be like?

To not worry, just for once. To not struggle. To not feel the crushing weight of debt and uncertainty with every passing day.

To have someone like Sana, dangerous, powerful, untouchable, want her.

Even if it wasn’t real.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears. This wasn’t a choice she should even be considering.

And yet, deep down, a part of her already knew. She wasn’t walking away from this.

She should have refused. She should have walked away, but she didn’t.

Because the world didn’t operate on should-haves. It didn’t care about pride, dignity, or the weight of one’s conscience, it cared about survival. And survival, Y/N had learned, was a currency in itself.

The reality of her situation settled like a weight on her chest, growing heavier with every passing second.

She had been running on borrowed time for too long, the rent that kept increasing, the tuition payments she barely managed to scrape together, the debts coiling around her like invisible chains, tightening with every unpaid bill. The fear of losing everything never left her; it followed her like a shadow, whispering in her ear, reminding her that no matter how much she fought, she was always one step away from falling apart.

And now, standing before her, was a woman offering her a way out. An escape.

Sana didn’t need to spell it out. Y/N understood exactly what this was.

A transaction. Cold, simple, nothing more.

Her gaze flickered upward, locking onto Sana’s once more, searching for something she wasn’t even sure she wanted to find.

She expected indifference, amusement, the same detached, effortless control Sana had wielded since the moment she approached her. But for a fleeting moment, so brief Y/N might have imagined it, she saw something else.

Something beneath the perfectly crafted exterior. Something lonely.

It was gone in an instant, buried beneath a veil of polished confidence, but it left Y/N unsettled, because it meant something she wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

It meant that maybe, just maybe, Sana wasn’t as unaffected as she wanted to be.

Y/N inhaled sharply, forcing herself to look away.

The logical part of her brain screamed at her to reject this, to turn on her heel and disappear into the safety of her struggling, barely-holding-on life, but so was being crushed under the weight of reality.

So was working herself to the bone with nothing to show for it. So was starving for her dreams while others dined on power like it was their birthright. So was the way Sana was still watching her, waiting, patient, expectant, like she already knew what Y/N was going to say.

Y/N exhaled.

And against every rational thought, against every instinct telling her to run before it was too late.

She lifted her chin, steadied her breath, and met Sana’s gaze head-on.

"Okay." The word left her lips, soft but unshaken.

A deal made. A fate sealed.

Y/N expected regret to settle in immediately, to crash over her like a tidal wave the moment the word slipped past her lips. She thought she would feel the weight of her decision pressing against her ribs, suffocating, suffused with the unmistakable sting of irreversibility.

She had made mistakes before, but nothing like this, nothing so deliberate, so impossibly final.

And yet, in the silence that followed, there was no overwhelming sense of panic, no sharp stab of second thoughts clawing at her resolve.

There was only Sana.

Still standing before her, still watching her, dark eyes filled with something almost amused, something self-satisfied.

She didn’t look surprised.

Of course, she wasn’t.

As if Y/N’s answer had been inevitable, as if she had simply been waiting for her to come to the same conclusion that Sana had already reached long ago.

Sana took a measured step back, just enough to create space between them, but somehow, the air between them remained just as heavy, just as charged. She reached into the sleek, structured purse resting at her side, her movements slow, deliberate.

Y/N wasn’t sure what she expected. Cash? A contract? Something tangible, something to prove that this wasn’t just a strange, fever-dream conversation she had somehow stumbled into?

Instead, Sana pulled out a single, thin black card.

Matte. Expensive-looking. Bare except for the subtle gleam of gold-embossed letters spelling out the name of a hotel, a place Y/N had only ever heard of in passing, in articles about business tycoons and foreign royalty.

A place meant for people so obscenely powerful they no longer needed to announce their wealth.

Without a word, Sana placed the card delicately onto Y/N’s tray, her fingertips barely grazing the edge of it before she withdrew her hand.

“Take tomorrow off,” she said smoothly, as if she were merely rearranging Y/N’s schedule instead of rewriting the trajectory of her life. “Meet me here. Ten o’clock. Sharp.”

Her tone was effortless, a voice accustomed to giving commands without expecting resistance, to moving the world around her like chess pieces.

It took Y/N a moment to breathe again.

Her gaze flickered down to the card, her stomach twisting, tightening at the sight of it.

There was no contact information. No way to confirm, to ask questions, to back out.

Just the name of the place where she was expected to be.

Expected.

As if Sana already knew that Y/N wouldn’t refuse.

As if the decision had already been made the second she had parted her lips to answer.

Her fingers twitched, tempted to reach for the card, but the action felt too final, too much like acceptance, as if the moment she touched it, she would no longer be able to pretend this was just another fleeting moment in a night full of them.

By the time she lifted her head again, Sana was already walking away.

She didn’t look back.

Her movements were slow but assured, every step echoing the same self-assurance that had been threaded through her words, through her very existence.

She walked like a woman who had just won something.

Like she had closed a deal, secured something she had set her sights on, and now had no further reason to linger.

As if this conversation had been nothing more than a well-played move in a game she had already mastered.

Y/N stood frozen, her body stiff with the weight of something she didn’t yet know how to name.

The lounge continued on around her, the hum of conversation, the crisp laughter of the elite, the soft clinking of glasses punctuating the air like clockwork. It was as if nothing had happened, as if no one else had noticed that something fundamentally irreversible had shifted in her world.

She exhaled, shaky and uneven, and stared down at the black card once more.

It felt heavier than it should have.

The next morning, Y/N stood in front of the towering glass structure, the hotel’s gleaming surface reflecting the golden morning light like a monolith of untouchable wealth.

She exhaled slowly, staring up at it, at its sheer, unapologetic grandeur. A place not meant for people like her.

And yet, she was here.

A deep unease settled in her stomach, coiling tight as she smoothed her hands over the fabric of the dress she wore, something unfamiliar, something not hers.

It wasn’t the uniform she had grown accustomed to, the stiff button-ups and restrictive vests designed to make servers blend into the background, to become part of the décor rather than individuals. This was different.

The dress fit her perfectly, tailored in a way that made it clear it had been chosen for her, not by her. Sleek. Elegant. Effortlessly expensive.

Y/N swallowed, suppressing the instinct to scoff at the absurdity of it all.

She was still the same girl who sketched on napkins between shifts, the same girl who counted coins before deciding if she could afford coffee that day.

But now, dressed like this, wrapped in luxury she had never touched before, she could almost believe she was someone else.

Almost.

A staff member appeared beside her, polite and professional, as if this was normal, as if Y/N belonged here. She didn’t.

"Right this way," they said, gesturing toward the elevators.

She hesitated for half a second before nodding, stepping inside the mirrored space, watching her own reflection flicker beneath the warm golden lighting.

Her hands tightened at her sides as the elevator ascended, a steady, silent climb toward something unknown, irreversible.

The doors opened into a private lounge, and the moment she stepped inside, she saw her.

Minatozaki Sana.

Y/N had thought she had gotten used to how effortlessly powerful she looked, how seamlessly she fit into these kinds of spaces, wealth and control stitched into her very existence.

But seeing her now, bathed in the soft natural light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows, one leg elegantly crossed over the other, a delicate wine glass resting between her fingers, it hit her all over again.

Sana looked like she belonged here.

Like she had been sculpted from the very essence of places like this, untouchable, effortless, above everything and everyone.

Y/N, however, felt like an intruder before a single word had even been spoken.

She lingered near the entrance, resisting the urge to fidget, before Sana finally acknowledged her.

"You're early," Sana remarked, voice smooth, laced with something unreadable.

She gestured toward the seat across from her, a silent command more than an invitation.

Y/N hesitated, only for a second, before obeying, sinking into the plush, impossibly soft seat.

The silence stretched between them, not uncomfortable, but weighted, like Sana was letting it linger on purpose, testing, waiting.

Then, with quiet precision, she placed a single, slender envelope onto the table between them.

No rush, no ceremony, but somehow, the action felt heavier than it should have.

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, her fingers twitching in her lap.

She didn’t need to ask what it was. She already knew.

Rules.

Of course, there would be rules.

Sana’s gaze remained steady, unwavering, as she finally spoke.

"Before anything else," she said, measured, controlled, "we establish the rules."

Y/N exhaled, something in her stomach twisting.

Rules meant control.

Rules meant limits, boundaries, an unspoken reminder that this was nothing more than an agreement, a transaction.

Sana had made that clear from the very beginning.

"This arrangement is transactional," she continued, her voice neither cruel nor soft, simply factual. "Nothing more. No emotions. No expectations outside of what I provide for you, and what you give in return."

Y/N’s fingers curled against the fabric of her dress, barely suppressing a flinch at the clinical detachment in her tone.

She had known this. She had known it from the moment Sana had made her offer, from the moment she had said yes.

Still, hearing it aloud felt different.

Like something being carved into stone, irreversible.

Sana tilted her head slightly, eyes flickering over Y/N’s expression as if watching for the first hint of hesitation.

"You’ll have full financial support," she continued. "Your tuition, your rent, whatever you need, I’ll cover it."

She paused.

Then, in a voice softer, but no less firm, she added,

"In return, you’ll be mine."

The words slid through the air like silk, smooth, deliberate, but the weight behind them settled into Y/N’s bones, cold and undeniable.

She forced herself to keep her face neutral, to hold Sana’s gaze even when something deep inside her twisted violently at the ownership in those words.

"When I call for you, you come to me," Sana went on. "No excuses. No complications."

The air felt too still, too thick.

Y/N should have hesitated.

She should have asked for more time, more details, should have weighed the consequences of what she was doing.

But the truth was she didn’t have time. She had no better choices.

And deep down, beneath the carefully placed logic and resistance, wasn’t there a part of her that had already decided?

Y/N inhaled, slow and quiet, steadying herself, steadying the part of her that still fought to pretend she could walk away from this.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She lifted her chin, her voice barely above a whisper, but firm in a way that surprised even her.

"Understood."

Sana studied her for another second, long enough for Y/N to feel like she was being dissected, unraveled, seen. before leaning back, satisfied.

A slow, approving smile curved at the edges of her lips.

And just like that, the deal was set.

Y/N should have expected the whiplash that came with stepping into Sana’s world.

She had seen glimpses of it before, the flash of designer logos stitched onto silk and cashmere, the quiet, unmistakable scent of wealth that never needed to announce itself, the way power seemed to bend around Sana like an unseen force, making space for her, making way for her, ensuring that nothing ever stood in her path for long.

Y/N had watched it from a distance, had sketched it in the margins of her notebook, trying to understand it.

But living inside it, even temporarily, was something else entirely.

It was disorienting, like being pulled into a dream so vivid, so surreal, that it left her questioning whether she had truly woken up.

One moment, she was struggling to make ends meet, rationing instant noodles for dinner, calculating how long she could stretch a bag of rice before she had to dip into savings that barely existed.

The next, she was being escorted through five-star restaurants where the price of a single glass of wine could have covered her rent for two months.

The contrast was staggering.

She was surrounded by wealth so absurd it felt like fiction.

Sana moved through it all with practiced ease, accustomed to luxury in a way that made it seem second nature, as if it had never occurred to her that life could be any other way. She existed in spaces that Y/N had only ever passed by, peering in from the outside, lingering just long enough to imagine what it must feel like to belong.

Now, she wasn’t just looking in, she was being pulled inside.

Penthouse suites with panoramic city views, extravagant charity events dripping in excess, sleek, high-performance cars waiting outside her tiny apartment, things that weren’t hers, but were now at her disposal simply because Sana willed it.

It was intoxicating. Overwhelming. Suffocating.

And through it all, Y/N had never felt more out of place.

Even as she stood beside Sana at high-profile gatherings, even as she slipped into the designer dresses that had been hand-selected for her, their tags bearing numbers that made her chest tighten, she remained an outsider.

An imposter in borrowed luxury.

The people in Sana’s world, CEOs, models, heirs to empires, spoke a language she didn’t fully understand.

Not just in words, but in the unspoken rules of wealth, in the way they carried themselves with an ease that came from never having known struggle. They sipped champagne without glancing at the price, they wore couture gowns without worrying about spilling wine on fabric that cost more than Y/N had made in the last year.

They laughed without fear of tomorrow.

And Y/N? Y/N had spent her entire life fighting to exist.

Every step she had taken had been uphill, every dream carried on the back of sleepless nights, every piece of art she had ever created fueled by the quiet, gnawing terror that it might never be enough.

Now, she was expected to belong.

Expected to walk through this world as if it didn’t feel wrong against her skin, as if she wasn’t always a breath away from someone seeing her for what she really was, a girl who had no business being here.

And that terrified her.

Sana had made them clear from the very beginning.

This wasn’t about love.

It wasn’t about affection, devotion, or anything sentimental, there would be no whispered words in the dark, no lingering touches that meant more than they should. No space for vulnerability.

Y/N was here to fill a role. And in return, Sana would give her everything, security, comfort, an escape from the suffocating weight of struggling to survive.

It was simple. At least, it should have been, but knowing something and feeling it were two entirely different things.

Y/N had spent her life accustomed to distance, the kind that people created with words, with silence, with carefully drawn boundaries that told her exactly where she stood. She thought she understood this arrangement.

She thought she could handle it like a business exchange, detached and controlled, a simple give and take.

She had braced herself for something transactional. Something calculated. Something cold.

She had expected Sana’s touch to be a reminder of that, to be clinical, distant, a formality rather than something felt.

But it wasn’t. The first time Sana touched her, it was nothing like what Y/N expected.

It was slow. Deliberate. Soft.

Not hesitant, not searching, but precise. Like Sana knew exactly what she was doing, what effect it would have.

Fingertips ghosting over Y/N’s wrist, tracing a path so light, so unbearably gentle that her breath caught in her throat before she could stop it.

It shouldn’t have mattered.

It shouldn’t have meant anything at all.

And yet, the warmth of Sana’s skin seeped into hers, spreading like the slow burn of whiskey down her throat, unexpected, unwelcome, inescapable.

Y/N’s body betrayed her before she could tell it not to. A shiver rippled up her spine, subtle, but enough.

Enough for Sana to notice.

Too warm.

Sana never rushed. She moved with the kind of certainty that came with power, with knowing she could have anything she wanted, whenever she wanted it.

She wasn’t close, not really, but it felt like she was. Felt like she was taking up too much space, or maybe Y/N was just too aware of her.

Y/N tried not to react.

Tried to steady her breathing, tried to ignore the way her pulse pounded against her skin, exposing her in a way she couldn’t control.

But then, Sana leaned in.

Close.

Close enough that Y/N could feel the faintest whisper of her breath against her cheek, warm and feather-light, brushing against her skin like something dangerously close to intimate.

"Relax."

A single word spoken so effortlessly.

But it landed like a command, low, smooth, undeniable, sinking into Y/N’s skin, wrapping around her like silk.

As if that were even possible.

Y/N swallowed, her throat tight, heat creeping beneath her skin in slow, suffocating waves.

She told herself she could handle this, that it was just another part of the arrangement, that it meant nothing. But the moment Sana’s lips brushed against her skin, Y/N realized something she hadn’t accounted for.

It was a game.

Sana never let Y/N forget that this was not love.

There were no whispered words meant to soothe, no false pretenses, no moments where Sana gave her even the smallest illusion that this was anything other than what they had agreed upon.

This was a transaction. A role to be played.

And Y/N, she had thought she could handle that. She had thought she could detach herself, could compartmentalize the way Sana did so effortlessly, but the first night Sana called for her, she realized how impossible that would be.

The penthouse was as she had expected it, cold in its perfection, impersonal in a way that only obscene wealth could be.

Windows framed the glittering cityscape, an endless expanse of artificial light stretching far beyond what Y/N could see, but not a single curtain drawn, not a single inch of privacy, as if Sana had nothing to hide.

The furniture was sleek, modern, designed for aesthetic rather than comfort, a space curated to impress rather than to be lived in.

It was beautiful, sterile, it wasn’t built for comfort.

Neither was Sana.

She stood near the window, one hand resting lightly against the glass, the other wrapped around the delicate stem of a wine glass, her silk robe hanging loosely off her shoulders, framing the soft, golden glow of her skin.

She looked untouched by the world.

And yet, when she finally turned her head, the way her gaze found Y/N, pinned her in place, dissected her without so much as a word, made Y/N feel as though she had already been claimed.

Sana barely spared her a glance before setting the glass down, her movements slow, methodical, controlled.

Everything about her was deliberate. Everything about her was a choice.

Her gaze flickered toward the clock on the wall before settling back on Y/N, dark and unreadable.

"You're late."

Her voice wasn’t accusing, wasn’t irritated, just stating a fact, like time itself was something she owned, something she expected others to respect without question.

Y/N exhaled, pressing her hands down the front of her dress, a dress she hadn’t chosen, something too elegant, too expensive, something that fit too perfectly against her skin, as if Sana had taken the time to know her measurements, her shape, before she had even asked her to come.

“I took the subway,” she said, knowing full well that people in Sana’s world didn’t take the subway.

Sana hummed, finally turning to face her fully, and Y/N felt it again, that same quiet, unnerving intensity.

The kind that made her feel like she was being studied, dissected, read like a book Sana had already memorized the ending to.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

Instead, she moved.

Slow, measured steps closing the distance between them, her bare feet silent against the polished hardwood floor, the silk of her robe whispering against her skin as she stopped just close enough for Y/N to catch the faintest trace of her perfume, something expensive, warm, something that lingered even after she was gone.

Y/N had nowhere to go.

Had no reason to move, no reason to step back, but even so, her body remained still, her breath shallow, waiting.

Sana reached for her.

Fingers skimming lightly over the strap of her dress, her touch feather-light, not searching, not tentative, just testing.

Barely there.

Barely anything at all.

Except.

It was everything.

Y/N should have hated how easy it was for Sana to unravel her, should have resisted the way her own body leaned, reacted, softened beneath something so unbearably delicate.

But it was impossible to resist something when you didn’t even realize you were yielding.

And Sana saw it.

Her fingers ghosted lower, slipping beneath the fabric of the dress, trailing against Y/N’s skin in a way that felt both proprietary and impersonal all at once, as if she were simply confirming something she already knew, this was hers to touch. Hers to take.

Nothing more than a deal.

Sana’s hand traveled upward, grasping Y/N’s chin between two fingers, tilting her face up until their eyes met fully, until there was nothing but the city behind them and the heat between them.

And for a split second Y/N thought she would kiss her.

The thought alone was enough to send her pulse into a reckless staccato, enough to make her lips part in something between hesitation and expectation.

But Sana didn’t kiss her.

She only looked at her, gaze lingering, assessing, as if waiting for something Y/N didn’t understand.

And then she let go.

Just like that.

Like Y/N was nothing more than a moment, a thing to be used, something to be taken but never kept.

Sana turned, her back to her now, her presence still filling the room as she walked toward the bedroom, the silk of her robe sliding from one bare shoulder, as careless as the way she had just released her.

"Come," she said simply, disappearing through the door.

And Y/N followed.

Because this was what she had agreed to.

This was what Sana wanted from her.

Nothing more. Nothing less.

[abookloverlmao]

THE GIRL IN THE SOCKS ON THE ROOF - JJ Maybank (part II)

Summary: You're in the wind, I'm in the water, Nobody's son, nobody's daughter. Y/N was nobody's daughter, hell she was uninterested in returning home after going missing with the Pogues. Wanting to go back to his arms- her will to live.

part 1: it took me a while! sorry y'all but here you have it<3

Warning: female!reader, triggering themes (mental health struggles, including references to self-harm, abusive dad, daddy issues, alcohol, drug, weed, swearing, angst, argument, shitty nicknames, bullying? etc. this will angsty as shit and fluffy, do not read if you don't want to! you have been warned, let me know what you think!

☆☆☆

If anyone dared to touch his Y/N, JJ will fucking murder them.

When Y/N and Kiara were unexpectedly kidnapped, an overwhelming fury consumed JJ. The thought of Y/N in danger fueled his hatred, and his temper flared as he grappled with the worry that gripped his heart.

Y/N had been by JJ's side through thick and thin, she not only inspired him in creating Poguelandia's flag but also joined him on hunting trips, despite her aversion to the idea of taking lives. 

"This is the ultimate dream, baby. Who needs rescuing from paradise?" JJ scoffed as he secured the rope, glancing at Y/N, who gazed at him with an adoring smile.

"No passports, just living the dream, surf trip, right?" she said, her eyes in the shape of hearts, tanned JJ was something, golden curls, his eyes more blue. The sight of her looking at him that way caused JJ's heart to race, so he averted his gaze, trying to regain composure.

"Ready?" he finally asked, his voice slightly husky, causing Y/N to clear her throat and stand, extending her hand towards him, "yes sir," she replied pulling him up before making her way towards the ocean, spear in hand.

"All right remember, watch your shadow, they see that, they're gone," he warned her as soon as their feet were on the water earning a nod from her and a gulp.

"Just like we practiced, Y/N," she nodded and held the spear with both hands, eyes studying the water for any fish, JJ tried not to stare, her tanned skin, her flushed cheeks thanks to the sun, how her exposed back muscles moved, her shorts soaked and she wore only sports bras, her shirt long forgotten.

"There's a skate, I can't- I really can't-" she cringed at the thought of stabbing the spear through the poor animal so he took action, "dang it! I missed it," he spun around hurriedly in search of the fish but the girl moved without a thought.

stabbing the spear while looking away, she caught it surprisingly, "you did it!" he exclaimed pulling her into a hug between laughs, "that's food in our bellies right there!"

and when Kiara dared him to jump off a mountain onto the sea, she was worried, "JJ don't, what if you drown like last time?" Y/N asked grabbing his wrist, still afraid about the last time when he got hit by the blunt of a machete and fell off the boat.

JJ paused, his excitement fading a little as he saw the genuine fear in her eyes, he understood her concern, the lingering trauma that had affected them both. 

Gently, he reached out and clasped her hand, offering a reassuring smile.

"Y/N, I know it's scary to think about what happened, but I've taken precautions this time. I've learned from my mistakes, it's just a dare," he assured her, his voice filled with determination, "I won't let anything happen to me. Trust me."

Y/N's grip on his wrist tightened, her worry mingling with a flicker of trust, she knew that JJ will never do such a thing to scare her, but she also knew that this boy was stubborn as fuck.

With a mix of apprehension and faith, she nodded reluctantly.

☆☆☆

Apparently, there was a history between Rafe Cameron and Y/N L/N, both were said to be caught in the corner of a party once, Rafe Cameron towering over her and her leaning back against the wall.

Saving Portis's life was a horrible idea, really, it was, Kiara got the idea and Y/N hated the thought of leaving her behind even if the girl sometimes can be a little mean.

JJ watched as Y/N raced between people on the bridge and slid down to hide under a boat with Kiara, their boots came in handy as the girls kicked the man in the face crawling out of their hiding spot.

A man got her arms and held them secure while another grabbed Kiara, she looked around in desperate search of JJ, the familiar blonde hair not once seen, nothing.

She sat on the back of the car in terror looking around for any of the Pogues, eyes focused on the ocean, under the bridge, nothing, she slumped back down and kept herself from attacking Portis in a fit of fury.

"We saved your life! That's what we get?" she snapped, her tone laced with righteous anger and disbelief, her entire body trembled with a mix of adrenaline and frustration, and her eyes locked onto Portis, daring him to respond.

"I'll try to help you, just do as they tell you," Portis said looking at her eyes, wildfire clear in them, "I will make you pay for this," she dropped back to sit beside a soaked Kiara, her grip on the girl tightened, her arm wrapping protectively around the trembling girl. 

She pulled Kiara closer, seeking solace in their shared strength. Their eyes remained fixed on the guards before them, sharp and piercing like daggers.

Pogue girls.

they were locked in a random mansion with guards surrounding them left and right, the windows locked, everything secure and made sure they don't escape, the closet was open revealing red silk dresses and a note "PICK YOUR SIZE" not even some pants or shirt, just fucking dresses.

The warm shower after a month of staying on an island felt amazing though, both the girls stayed each in there for a damn hour, Y/N overthinking of a way out and Kiara doing the same, sighing as the water ran down her back.

The dress was perfect however, and the girls looked like absolute angels, the red that reminded them of rich wine only kooks drank with their tanned skin absolutely perfect.

And seeing Rafe Cameron didn't make her feel any better, "you! I knew you and your father were behind this shit," she spoke storming towards the boy that is rumored to be talking to her- well was.

Rafe glared at her and took a step forward towards her, "What are you talking about? You trying to weasel in on my deal is that what's going on?" he asked pointing at himself, she scrunched her nose at him, hair still damp, "what? Are you hearing yourself? I think you became even more loco with the buzz cut-"

someone cut her off, a man with an accent, presenting himself as Carlos Singh, he apologized to the girls about the rough tactics in bringing them here and it made her raise an eyebrow, Kiara was studying the man up and down suspiciously.

She eyed Rafe and moved with Kiara behind Carlos taking a seat on the couch far from him, so this man talked about El Dorado for about an hour and she found herself getting annoyed every second especially when he pointed out that the three of them would find this island or whatever.

"I didn't listen to a word you just said, how much are you gonna keep philosophizing?" Y/N found herself agreeing with Rafe on something for once.

"you girls have a manuscript, a diary," she froze once Carlos's eyes landed on the girls, and she could feel the curly-haired girl by her side tense, "this is ridiculous, we don't have any diary," she spoke feeling Rafe's eyes on her.

"how else could you have learned that the cross was on the Royal Merchant?" he asked and Kiara replied, indicating that they couldn't help him even if they wanted to, which was a terrible idea.

"We have been glued on an island for a month, how do you think we will help you?" Y/N added watching as Rafe got up and was about to walk expecting that this was all a game, but a guard holding a rifle stood in front of him.

Y/N's heart raced as she watched the guard step in front of Rafe, blocking his path. The realization sank in that escaping this mansion and the clutches of Carlos Singh's operation would not be as simple as they had hoped.

She, Kiara, and Rafe were locked in a room, one day to find this diary and witnessed Portis get shot in front of them, who wouldn't be fucking terrified? Rafe grabbed her arm and turned her to face him holding her shoulder firmly, "don't bullshit me, this diary, do you have it?" he asked.

Y/N pushed him away with a look, fear could be seen in them, "does it look like I have it, Rafe, no." she snapped, her voice filled with defiance. 

She took a step back, her eyes scanning the room for any possible escape route. 

☆☆☆

Rafe had slept the night on the ground while she and Kiara were on the bed, well Y/N had stayed the night awake thinking just in case, she and the Cameron boy got into arguments, he tried to talk to her but she kept pushing him away from her, saying that she doesn't own him shit.

Walking down the stairs with the guard's hand gripping her arm, she stood in front of Carlos in her pajamas, "I lied. I know about the diary, I don't have the original but I can get you a copy, but... if I do this I need to go alone, with Kiara and I swear to you, I'll give you the diary and then you let us go," of course, everything will end like shit with this man.

Apparently, Portis sent a message from beyond the grave that he had captured JB and Sarah and then she was dragged up the stairs by the guard and thrown into the room.

"Get up- Carlos is heading to John B and Sarah- why is he crying?" she asked looking at Rafe with a frown, amusement twinkling in her eyes, "Peterkin, daddy issues," replied Kiara standing up and looking at her with wide eyes at the piece of information.

"oh my god.." she shook her head at the boy.

"He has a boat that could get us out of here," Kiara added staring out the window and gesturing to Rafe who tried to walk towards Y/N but stopped at her glare.

"Fine. This is our only chance of getting out, but that doesn't mean I trust you," she added still in the silk pajamas, hers were black instead of grey, Rafe nodded, "Fine. I get it," It did pain him that she doesn't trust him though.

but, the trio worked amazingly in being actors that's for sure, Y/N deserved an Oscar for screaming so loud and pretending to see Kiara dead, she "fought" with Rafe who threatened to "kill" her, and by that, she means yelling and throwing furniture around to pretend they were fighting, Rafe helped her lay on the bathtub and pretend to be dead.

Hand holding hers she slid into the bathtub, a leg and a hand out, not a move of her muscles.

As the guard entered the room, his eyes widened in shock at the sight before him. Kiara lay motionless, her vacant stare adding to the illusion of death. Y/N's boots peeking out from behind the bathtub and her arm hanging limply added to the grim scene.

Before the guard could fully process what he was witnessing, Rafe sprang into action, with a swift and forceful movement, he struck the guard with the door, causing him to stumble backward. Rafe continued landing powerful punches that disoriented the guard, rendering him unable to react effectively.

Seizing the opportunity, Kiara swiftly moved to secure the guard. She expertly used the curtains, swiftly and efficiently binding his hands to prevent any resistance. 

Y/N, her heart pounding with adrenaline, went for the gun, her voice was firm as she issued her orders, "Stay still! Don't make a move," Y/N commanded and he froze under Rafe.

With the guard now subdued and under their control, the trio had a fleeting moment of relief. They exchanged glances, acknowledging the success of their coordinated efforts. 

and with that, they raced down the stairs following Rafe, Kiara took the picture of El Dorado and the girls followed their friend's brother, racing down the garden and climbing a passing truck.

her grip tightened around the gun, she is holding a gun at the age of 17 for fuck's sake, she almost gave it to Rafe if it wasn't for him to throw the guy off the truck, she was shocked and the first thing that came to mind was what if he did it to her and Kiara.

Rafe kept an eye on her for the entire time, they don't talk anymore and she has every right to hate him, but he kept an eye out, and he's beginning to regret every bad thing he did to her.

he was going to do anything if anyone tried to hurt her, they may never be friends again but he will try at least.

she pushed the green cover off her and sat against the truck as soon as the patrol was over, inhaling and exhaling she looked around, "I told you we just had to work together." not once did she glance at him nor Kiara did.

"All right. Listen, I'm headed out to my boat, okay? I can give you a ride out, drop both of you wherever somewhere safe. One thing though." Kiara looked at him with a frown while Y/N stared out in worry.

"Y/N look at me." with a clenched jaw she turned towards him, "I know your friends are on the island and my sister. I'm not helping them. All right? I can't trust them, okay? I'll give you a ride out, not them."

she stayed silent for a while before nodding, "I just want to get off the island," Rafe turned towards Kie who nodded as well still trying to catch her breath, "Same here."

"That's smart," he said and Y/N rolled her eyes, he really thought I was gonna leave my friends behind. JJ? her mind went back to the handsome blonde, is he alright? did he get caught by Singh?

running a hand through her hair in frustration, pushing it away from her face she leaned back, inhaling and exhaling to keep her anxiety down before she has a mental breakdown.

She could hear Rafe talk to Kie about how he always liked her and that she's at least half Kook, Y/N scoffed, "Half Kook, is it a nationality or something?" 

Rafe fought the urge to roll his eyes, "do you have to be sarcastic every time?" he asked making her turn towards him in annoyance, "Do you have to be such a jerk every time?" Y/N retorted, her voice filled with frustration.

Rafe looked taken aback for a moment before his expression hardened. "I'm not the one who brought a gun to a patrol, Y/N," he said, his voice cold.

Y/N bristled at the accusation, "I only brought the gun because I didn't trust you to keep us safe, as if you didn't hold a gun many times and aimed it at me," she said, her voice rising.

Rafe shook his head, looking exasperated. "You don't trust anyone, Y/N. That's the problem," he said, his voice tinged with annoyance, she didn't say another word, way too tired to argue.

"After what you have done to me, I will never trust you," Kiara watched them back and forth, "I did you a solid," he replied staring ahead, "You told everyone that we fucked, told everyone about my relationship with my father, and... you tried to kill Kie and aimed a gun at me." said Y/N.

Rafe tried to say something, but couldn't, so he closed his mouth.

Soon she hopped off the truck and landed beside Kiara with a thud, "Come on. My boat's down here." both the girls followed him towards a white big boat.

"Make sure your shoes are off. both of you." he ordered and the girls stood still, "Okay, we should have enough juice to get us to Saint Lucia, no problem." 

he noticed them still standing there, "Hey, get in the boat, Y/N! Kie!" he exclaimed watching them intensely, Kie spoke, "You're not gonna pull anything if we get in?" she asked the boy who sighed in vexation.

"No, I'm not gonna pull anything, okay? I'm trying to do you a solid here. You really wanna be back there with Singh, or do you wanna be somewhere safe? Now can one of you help me with the bowline?"

they finally did as told, Y/N kept her socks on as she climbed the boat, "Go help him with the bowline, I'll check around," Kiara nodded and the girl immediately moved around.

the sound of grunting caught her attention and Y/N raced outside, Kiara jumped on the boat and Y/N ran towards the railing seeing Rafe in the water, "oh shit!" she exclaimed looking at Kiara with wide eyes.

The girl started the boat and immediately took control, Rafe yelled and called out for the girls, and for the first time in a while, she felt a pang in her heart.

she felt bad but she had nothing to do, she had to save the Pogues.

"Kie! Where are you going?!" he exclaimed making her wince and look at him with a scrunched nose, "I've gotta help my friends!" yelled Kiara and the boat started moving.

"You don't know what you're doing! Hey!" he panted and threw his arms around, "Shit! I'll find you, Kie! I'll find you! you're both gonna regret this shit. Y/N! You're done!"

she gulped, "I'm sorry!" she yelled back turning around and making her way up to stand beside Kiara, "don't you think that's a little too far?" she asked the brown-haired girl who looked back at the boy, "maybe. please send them our location."

The girl nodded taking the phone and looking back at poor struggling Rafe, it's a bit too far, isn't it? She thought.

Y/N couldn't help but feel guilty as she watched Rafe struggling in the water. She knew that leaving him behind was harsh, but she also knew that she had to help her friends.

As Kiara drove the boat towards their destination, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of unease, she didn't know what was going to happen next, but she knew that they were in for a rough ride, what if Carlos found them again and this time he kills her.

"Are you okay?" Kiara asked, breaking the silence.

Y/N nodded, her mind still racing, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... worried about what's going to happen next," she said, her voice filled with uncertainty.

"Do you have that gun?" asked Kiara again, Y/N nodded and pulled out the gun from behind her, "we are definitely going to jail," sighed the girl, "hey, it's just for protection."

"Yeah..."

With that they fell silent, the boat racing towards their destination, gun at the ready, waiting for the teenagers to appear, Kiara wrapped her arm around Y/N's shoulders and the girl stared ahead.

"I'm sorry...if I suspected you, I shouldn't have been harsh on you," started Kiara glancing at Y/N who threw herself on the chair in tiredness, her heart still hammering against her chest.

"Its fine, I get it Kie," she smiled at her and tapped the location on the screen, before putting her phone by her side and closing her eyes, "I would've done the same." Kiara smiled brightly and laughed.

"We will end up in jail one day, girl," she spoke making her laugh, "definitely, I regret leaving that dress back though, it was so pretty," Kiara nodded in agreement, "so sexy,"

***

Y/N leaned against the fence, thinking about everything, her finger tapped anxiously against the railing as she waited until the sight of a blue shirt and familiar blonde hair caught her eyes.

She frowned, who is he? why was he looking around? As soon as the boy turned around and his eyes caught Y/N, she froze, like time stopped and nothing mattered only their eyes meeting one another's.

The hues of E/C mixing in with the blue and the hint of turquoise, sharp features, pink cheeks thanks to the sun.

"JJ?" she called jumping off and racing down the small stairs trying not to slip, the boy was completely frozen, "JJ." she ran and the boy finally walked, every muscle in his body easing.

She threw herself on him, his strong arms wrapped around her so tightly as he pulled her to his body even closer, she ran her hand through his hair, tears blurring her vision.

"Y/N," JJ breathed out in the crook of her neck, lips brushing against her delicate skin, his voice filled with relief, she pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes, hand reaching to cup his cheek lovingly.

"Wow! I didn't think I'd see you ever again." she said her voice trembling but there was that beautiful smile on her lips, JJ tilted his head with a smile and studied her with his grip not once leaving her, "Yeah, but I'm here now. Okay? It's all right. It's all right." he said pulling her again towards him.

Her arms wrapped around him so tightly, JJ never wanted to pull away, her lips ghosting on his neck was inexpressible, JJ felt his heart racing as Y/N's lips brushed against his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

He had missed her so much, and he couldn't believe that she was finally here with him, worry ate him alive the past day when she wasn't by his side, and now he was cherishing the moment they were finally reunited.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace in the embrace.

"I can't believe you're here," Y/N murmured, her voice filled with a mix of joy and disbelief, "I thought... I thought I had lost you." JJ's grip tightened around her, and his voice was soft as an angel, "I'm here, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere," he reassured her, and he was right, he was never going to leave her ever again, he wasn't going to let someone take her from him.

"We'll get through this together."

JJ's smile widened, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear from Y/N's cheek, he didn't care about anything but holding her to him, god he loved her.

and then after a hot minute of staring into one another's eyes, he finally pulled away as the others rushed over, JJ finally pulled away and as soon as her hand left his cheek he felt that coldness come back and then he hugged Kiara.

Sarah was on the verge of tears when she came to Y/N, she pulled her into a bear-crushing hug one that made the girl gasp for breath but she didn't complain.

"I was scared you and Kie got hurt," she said with a smile on her lips, Y/N smiled at her friend and kissed her forehead before hugging John B, Pope, and Cleo.

"I'm a Pogue, girly, me and Kie never get hurt," and of course, John B decided to be stupid, apparently the church bell ringing was the same one his dad used to ring to call him home.

Because as soon as he left, Carlos's men appeared and started shooting and if it wasn't Kiara starting the boat one would've gotten shot certainly, JJ was yet again exploding with anger as they left the island and if it wasn't JB calling, and telling them to go back to Outer Banks the boy would've drove himself mad that's for sure.

Kiara went down with the others to rest after a whole day of chaos, there was surprisingly a shower in the boat, that was how rich Rafe is, while JJ went to take a shower after Pope and Cleo were done, Sarah was sitting by Y/N's side overthinking.

"you're overthinking again," started Y/N keeping her eyes glued in front of her, Sarah snapped out of it and smiled at her friend, "Yeah, I guess I can't help it sometimes," Sarah admitted with a sheepish smile, leaning back against the wall of the boat. "There's just so much going on, and I can't help but worry, i'm worried about John B."

Y/N turned to face Sarah, her expression filled with empathy. "I understand," she said softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on Sarah's arm, "It's natural to feel overwhelmed in situations like this. We're in this together babe, and your boyfriend found gold once, nothing bad will happen to that guy." she chuckled softly.

"I mean, look at the adventures we've been through with him. We always manage to find a way, even when the odds seem impossible. And with John B leading the charge, it's bound to be one hell of a journey." it was true, this was all because of John B.

Sarah smiled at the girl's words and wrapped her arms around her shoulder pulling her into a hug, "thank you for everything," she whispered kissing her friend's forehead, "Anything for you." and with their arms linked, silence fell.

"so what's going between you and JJ, you think I haven't noticed the heart eyes," started Sarah nudging her friend who stared ahead as if she didn't hear her, "You know how JJ is. He's just being JJ," she replied cheeks burning red.

Sarah raised an eyebrow skeptically, not buying Y/N's attempt at brushing off the topic, "Uh-huh, just JJ being JJ, huh?" she said, her tone filled with playful sarcasm, "I've seen the way you two look at each other. There's definitely something more going on."

Y/N couldn't help but smile, her gaze softening as she glanced at Sarah, "Okay, fine," she admitted, shaking her head softly and keeping her hand on the steering wheel, "Maybe there's something between us. It's hard not to feel a connection with someone when you've been through so much together."

Sarah's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "I knew it!" she exclaimed, squealing so loudly that she had to put her hand over the girl's mouth, "hush you!" Sarah moved her head away and beamed. 

"You guys are adorable together. I ship it!"

and then JJ appeared, ruffling his blonde hair with a towel and he frowned at the girls, "Ship who?" Y/N pinched Sarah's side just as the girl opened her mouth to answer, urging her to keep her mouth shut.

Sarah winced at the pinch but quickly caught on, suppressing her laughter and keeping her lips sealed.

JJ furrowed his brow at the exchange, his curiosity piqued as he approached the two girls, "What's going on?" he asked, his voice tinged with suspicion, "You guys seem like you're up to something."

Y/N flashed JJ a sweet smile, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh, nothing," she replied casually, her voice innocent. "Just girl talk, you know?"

Sarah nodded vigorously, feigning seriousness. "Yeah, just some girl talk," she chimed in, her eyes dancing with mischief.

JJ's frown deepened, clearly not convinced by their response but didn't insist, "I'll leave you guys together~" with that Sarah disappeared down the stairs while wiggling her eyebrows behind JJ.

JJ watched Sarah disappear down the stairs, a bemused expression on his face as he caught a glimpse of her mischievous eyebrow wiggle. He shook his head with a chuckle, turning his attention back to Y/N.

"Well, that was interesting," JJ remarked, a playful glint in his eyes. "I wonder what she's up to."

Y/N shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Who knows with Sarah," she replied, her voice filled with amusement, "She's always full of surprises." He nodded and took a seat.

She stared at the sea and glanced at JJ, “you certainly know the way to Outer Banks right…?” she said awkwardly pushing herself slightly to the side, the boy shook his head and stood up looking for a map.

He examined it and then around, “yes ma’am, just head right straight up to the sun, we’ll reach at almost night fall,” she shook her head at his orders and did as told, saluting him with a grin on her lips.

They stayed silent, it was never quiet between them so this wasn’t usual, he stood by her side, always taller and shielding her from the world, even if she wasn’t that short, he was a giraffe, growing every day probably.

“He didn’t hurt you, did he?” he finally spoke, making her turn to him in confusion, she furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side, she always did that when she was confused, sometimes scrunched her nose as well.

“Rafe.” He uttered his name like it was poison, if eyes could kill; poor Rafe would be dead all the way from Barbados.

She chuckled softly and lifted her silk top revealing the gun, “now if he did I wouldn’t have this now, would I?” she said sarcastically, and JJ swore he fell in love right there and then, his girl had a mother fucking gun.

Innocent and sweet Y/N from about 8 months ago was no longer there, this was Y/N mother fucking Maybank, god his last name fit perfectly with her.

“Atta girl, now that’s what I am talking about,” he added putting his back against hers and pointing his gun playfully, back when he was young, he and John B used to do it with those army plastic toys from Walmart (or make some using paper) and now he is doing it with his lover with real guns.

“That’s some John Wick shit, right there!” he exclaimed, Y/N took her own gun and pointed it around, partners in crime, she felt like Black Widow for fuck’s sake, this was dangerous, but danger can be fun.

They both laughed but she suddenly spoke, “hey it’s better we throw it away in the ocean, cops will investigate here and then us once we’re there,” she said throwing the gun in the sea, it had a single bullet anyways.

JJ kept his and looked at it longingly, “is there no damn camera?” he asked looking around and then she looked around, “look at the drawers,” she suggested turning back to the wheel, JJ looked around and after a good 10 minutes, a polaroid camera caught his eye, it had the initials “W.C”

Wheezie Cameron.

They both gave one another bright wicked smiles and she grabbed the camera, “pose mister Wick,” she said pulling the camera closer and closing one eye, snapping a picture of JJ grinning like an idiot while holding the gun with both hands showing his dimples, she laughed and took another one, one where he was more serious.

“It’s perfect,” she said with a smile holding the polaroid in hand, JJ scrunched his nose and shook his head trying to grab them, “absolutely not. Usually I would say no shit Sherlock but-“ She elbowed him cutting him off.

“They’re not yours at all, they’re mine” she said with a matter of fact tone putting the picture in her pocket, JJ hated how his cheekbones turned red and the way he stared at her, oh so lovingly, his heart suddenly started hammering against his chest in a speed of light, like it always did when he was with her.

They say that back then, a star used to lead a captain’s way on the ship, or whatever, JJ sucked at history, got an F in his last exam, hell he was surprised he didn't get a -F, if that even existed, only good date he managed to have right was when was the Fourth of July.

Ironic. heh, forth of july, the day he held her on a random rooftop.

And if it was true, then she was his star, his star girl, pretty E/C eyes, H/C hair, tanned skin, rosy cheeks due to the rays of sun and their stay in the island, and the salty water made her skin glow.

Fucking hell he wanted to kiss her, so so badly.

JJ looked away and grabbed the camera, snapping a picture of her staring ahead, and she noticed of course, raising an eyebrow at him so his first instinct was to beam innocently at her and sneakily take the picture that came out, “at least take a good picture,” she said in amusement.

He was surprised, for a second he thought she was going to yell at him until her words caught him off guard, “deal,” he said gesturing her to turn around, putting on the fake act of a professional photographer, classic JJ.

She leaned against the wheel and fixed her clothes, hair and then looked at him reassuringly, tilting her head to the side and JJ swore he was about to fucking faint, and he wasn't being dramatic. the sun kissing her skin and making her look like an angel descending from heaven, that for a second he sat there, admiring.

And after snapping out of thoughts, he took a picture, and as she waited for it to appear, he stared, lips pursed tightly and he swallowed, and once it did and she towered over his kneeling form, her hair fell around her like curtains that she pushed it away with a frustrated groan.

His eyes fell on her lips, a single move is all he needed, if he lifted himself just a little bit, he can capture her lips then-

“it’s cute, I guess, I look a damn duck but whatever,” she said pushing herself away with a chuckle, JJ didn’t know what to say, she was perfect, in every way, in so many ways that he couldn’t describe it all, his stare could, it did and that was why the tips of her ear burned red.

"you're not a duck,"

And as he rose to his feet, the boat suddenly moved and he went to her, his hand automatically went to hold her waist and pull her to him just as she was about to fall back, his other hand went to grip the wheel and his body pressed against hers in a matter of seconds.

Her hand gripping his shoulder in fear to fall and humiliate herself in front of her crush, the other on his chest, right on top of his hammering heart that she could feel it thunder against her palm, his hand though, right on her waist, his fingertips right on the spot where her skin was a little revealed making every hair in her body rise.

Her blood ran hot and they both stared at each other, absolutely love-struck, eyes in the shape of hearts and heart beating in sync, getting louder and louder in their ears, her chest went up and down as the air suddenly left.

And she swore she noticed him lean in, tilting his head slightly to the side and she moved as well, eyes dropping to his lips and then went up to his eyes- is it happening? Is it finally happening?

His nose bumped hers, the faintest brush of his lower lip on her upper one and she took a leap of faith to press her lips against his, hey, god was with her and giving her a sign might as well take it.

JJ didn't even hesitate to put a hand on her nape and pull her closer spinning so she leaned against the wheel, her eyes fluttered shut and wrapped an arm around his neck pulling him down so she could land back on the balls of her feet as her heart skipped yet another beat, her pulse drumming with each passing second.

The world around them seemed to vanish, the only sound left was the gentle splash of the water against the boat, the waves mirroring the rhythm of their kiss—soft, tentative at first, then JJ parted her lips with his own, deepening the kiss as if they were drawn into each other by some magnetic force.

JJ's fingers adorned by rings right on her nape and moving to hold her as he stepped closer to tower over her causing her to use her arm and pull him closer, parting her lips.

"oh shit-" someone breathed out causing her to freeze, JJ pulled away and looked back, there stood Pope, he gave them finger guns and left in a hurry.

"Uhm, well that was," started Y/N lips rosy thanks to him, "great," she shook her head turning to the wheel and tried not to smile like an idiot, "you should go see him."

"yeah I should- this shithead-" he said in frustration before turning to Y/N, "I'm not done with you, Stargirl."

"yeah I'm sure, fuck off, Starboy," she flipped him off. Yeah she'll be damned if she regrets it just because Pope stepped in, not he will never make out with Cleo? she will bet a hundred dollars once in outer banks, he damn will.

****

Author note: guess what bitches? I got my computer back, feeding you hoes with JJ, my beloved husband, oh and I still haven't watched season 4 so I beg don't spoil. I hope you enjoyed it my lovely babies<333333 Thank you so much for the likes on every single thing I wrote, I appreciate it so much, miss you all and let me know what you think.

There will be a Part 3, just currently focusing more on my book so, but I'll make sure you guys got it!

special hashtag to these pookies (who likely hate my ass for not posting in so long, sorry homies don't burn my house<3): @loves0phelia , @nirvanalivesdilfs , @thekidscallmebosss , @@ladyinbl00d , @talyaaas-blog

ly.

[lostinlovingrevery]

Messy Paint, Messy Bodies

Trilogy! Logan X F! Reader

You and Logan make your own work of art

A/N: Hm, indulging in my painter self with this one...Enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT MDNI, messy sex, lil romantic sex, unprotected piv, creampie, paint lol, new established relationship, reader is an art teacher

Logan didn’t really consider himself an art type of person.

The most he’s ever done with paint was paint a house. He may have done a few bored scribbles on a piece of napkin, maybe in his younger years, he pursued painting to calm his nerves- but didn’t continue because he ran out of patience for it. 

Didn’t necessarily hate art, could appreciate a nice scenic landscape here and there. Especially ones that remind him of home. Suppose music and film are art too- and he appreciates those as well. He just wasn’t the type necessarily to stand around a museum drinking wine and staring at blank paintings trying to decipher what it all means. 

The only work of art that he could really appreciate is you.

The cute art teacher at Xaviers School for The Gifted. You were a bit strange but loving. The students loved you. You took an interesting approach to how you taught your classes, combining art and ethics together to help the young mutants find themselves in a world that they weren't accepted in. 

The day he came to the mansion, the day he met you. He was hooked. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the way you smiled at him that eased his nerves when he stormed into Charles's office. How your eyes, they held nothing but kindness even as he lashed out at everyone like a wounded, scared animal. 

Or maybe he just thinks you’re pretty to look at.

Like art.

The weekend has arrived, and the school was almost completely empty from students either visiting parents, or going out to on the field trip to the local zoo with the other professors chaperoning. 

Logan, as per usual took this chance to sleep in late as possible and be completely lazy all morning, going into noon. Sprawled out in bed, with sheets that barely covered him and the afternoon sun streaming into the bedroom. He felt relaxed, peace, quiet, warm sunny spot to sleep in- except something was missing.

He climbed out with a groan, pulling on sweats and a t-shirt before leaving, and making a leisure walk to where he knew he’d find you. 

He made his way to your study, where your door was cracked open and he peered inside.

Your study- always a mess of paper and art supplies. Not because of you, but mainly because your students barge inside and tear it apart trying to find a specific color marker, or a certain paintbrush. It irritates the hell out of him, how brazen they are with your office but you always make him back off. 

They’re just being creative Lo,

Your back was turned to him, and you sat crossed-legged on a stool. You were focused, deep into your current painting. 

He stepped inside quietly, approaching you from behind as he took in some details of your current work in progress. He wasn’t an art man, no, but he could appreciate your art. The way you you carefully stroked your brush, how you chose your colors, and the subject- always something meaningful to you. 

“Logan, youre not very good at sneaking you know.” You say as he was a foot away from you. He smirked. 

“Now how’d you know I was in here?” He put a hand on your back, resting over your bare skin where your shirt rode up your waist. 

“Lo, you weigh like…1000 pounds. Your footsteps are hella heavy. You breathe loud too.”

“No I don’t.” He says, a mock offense in his voice. “Also I’m not 1000 pounds.”

“Suuuuure.” You teased as you looked up at him. He smirked, and you winked at him. You turned back to the painting, chewing on your inner cheek as you pondered you next stroke of color.

“Looks nice.” He says with a hum as he leans over your shoulder. 

“It’s still a work in progress-” You beamed as you turned your head to look at him, and he smirked, his eyes trailing down to your lips. 

He leaned forward and captured you in a kiss, that you happily returned, smiling against his lips. You hand came up to cup his cheek, as you tilted your head to push yourself closer to him.

You haven’t been together long, in fact no one even knows yet that you’ve been together. They don’t know that Logan has been sneaking into your room every night, and back into his every morning. 

When Ororo came by your bedroom early this morning, to make sure you didn’t change your mind about coming with everyone to the zoo. She didn’t know Logan laid sprawled on your mattress- buttass naked and you had to nearly slam the door in her face so she wouldn’t come in- as she usually would. 

While you happy with Logan- really happy actually. Everyone has remarked that your cheery demeanor has been even more cheery as of late. A lingering worry was in your head though- as you wondered exactly what was you and Logan’s relationship? 

It came to be when certain feelings came to light, and you hooked up one stormy night. Since then, you haven’t had a night where Logan wasn’t in your bed. Quiet whispers of flirts in rooms with others around, discreet passing touches in hallways. Logan would slip you little love notes, and surprise you by putting flowers and little gifts in your study or bedroom. The romantic gestures were sweet- and shocked you a bit. Always had acted like a lone wolf before you got together. You didn’t expect the big bad Wolverine to be a complete teddy bear.

Not that you’re complaining. You always knew there were other sides of him, sides that just needed a little love and support, in order to open up.  

Maybe it was silly to worry about putting a label on your relatioship, especially when he’s so sweet to you- But just like your own paintings, it never felt complete until you gave it a name.

You parted from his lips, smiling up at him and removing your hand- only to realize you had smeared paint on his face.

“Oh!” You giggled, lifting and turning your hand to show him the fresh paint on your palm. “I got it on your face.” 

“Really?” He brought his hand to his cheek, touching the paint smeared there and pulling his fingers back. “Trying to turn me into one of your pretty paintings sweetheart?”

“I don’t need to handsome,” you flirt, “You’re already a work of art.” 

A deep blush filled his cheeks, his eyes grew heavy as he looked down at you. Rendered speechless from your flirt. 

He leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss. Deep and sensual, one that made you off guard. You didn’t notice when he slowly reached his hands over, dipping into the palette of paint that sat on the bedside table. He brought it to your cheek, cupping it and you immediately felt the wetness. 

Gasping and pulling away, you saw the paint spread on his hand. 

“Logan!” You laughed. You grabbed your brush, and attacked him by painting a streak down his nose. He laughs, warm and mischievous and grabbing the brush from your hand to return the favor by brushing against your other cheek. 

It erupted into something more. You stood up from your stool, grabbing your palette and smearing paint on your hands as you looked at him with a devious grin. 

“Hey-” Logan held his hand up to you. “Don’t-”

You charged at him, smearing your hand onto his arm, and then across his white tank-top. He tried to get away, but you managed to smear more on his face and into his beard as well. He grabbed a tube of paint nearby, and grabbed you around your waist before you could get away- squeezing it under your shirt and smearing paint along your chest while you squeal in laughter.

It escalated, Logan caught you in a wet, passionate kiss to distract you from smearing more paint onto him. Things became intense, the smearing of paint over your bodies made it messy, your arms and lips slipping over each other- creating works of art onto each others skin.

Before you knew it Logan was peeling your clothes off. Mumbling something about a mess as he dropped your t-shirt to the floor, and peeled off your bra. You giggled, your hands- smeared with a multitude of rainbows found his shirt, have been painted and ruined like yours and tugged it off. You pressed your hands to his chest, and began smearing it down to his stomach, paint stuck to his thick chest hair. You pressed eager pecks to his lips as he backed you against a table that held your art supplies. 

“Logan-” You giggled into his mouth when he brushed a bunch of your supplies off to the floor. “You’re lucky none of that was expensive-”

“I’d buy you new ones,”

“Oh, you’re gonna be my sugar daddy now?” You teased as he began to work your jeans off, his handprints now staining over them- you’ll definitely figure out a way to save those marks. 

“Baby, I’ll be anything you want.” He mumbles into your lips as you tugged his sweatpants down to his thigh. Not to your surprise, his hard cock waved as he popped out from his sweats. 

He tugged your panties off, throwing them into the pile of clothes, you hooked your arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer as you licked his lips- tasting paint that somehow smeared. Your skin slipped together, mixing the rainbow of colors together while Logan nipped your lips. 

“Would you be my love?” You whisper as he buries his face into your skin, nipping at your skin even as he tasted paint on his tongue, your hands curled into his hair, leaving strands be covered in blues and reds and purples and yellows. 

He froze, and for a moment your heart stopped- wondering if you crossed a line. He lifted his head to look at you and you admired the pinks and whites and blues that have been smeared over his cheeks, nose, and beard. He didn’t look scared, or put-off, but his expression held something serious. 

He brought his hands to cup your cheek, looking into your eyes. 

“If you’ll have me.” He says softly. You smiled, mirth escaping you as you nodded, tugging him back to you as you wrapped your legs around his hips and hooked your ankles , his heavy cock pressed to your belly. 

Your lips met again, a newfound vigor and passion between you both as paint continued to smatter over your writhing bodies. He tugged your hips closer as he angled himself to your weeping hole, dripping with your arousal and begging for him to fill you up.

He pushed himself inside, spearing you open. You gasped, mouth falling open and burying your nails into his scalp, tugging at the curls of his hair. He licked into your mouth, licking your tongue and teeth. You laughed, tipping your head back as he buried himself to the hilt. 

“Feel so goddamn perfect baby-” He groans, his strong arms wrapping around you and tugging you impossibly closer. His forehead rests against yours, your noses smashed together, and he began thrusting in and out of you. Warmth flooded through you, you melted into his arms- you always melt into him.

Your hips meet with each slow, prepared thrust, Logan pants as he smashes his lips on yours again. He gently pushed you down onto the table, which creaked under your weight. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly as he picked up pace and began pounding into you.

“Lo-” You moaned, hands falling off him attempting to grab the edge of the table. He stood up, keeping his pace but hooking his arms under your legs and spreading them wider. You cried out, as the new angle sent shocks up your spine- he hit that perfect spot inside you that had your toes curling and your body trembling. 

“Calling me a work of art darling?” He moaned. “Take a look at yourself-.” He moans, “Fucking gorgeous, ain’t never seen something pretty as you baby.” 

“Logan,” You whined. “I’m- I-”

“I know baby-” He grunted, thrusting hard and faster as he felt you tighten around him, that burning hot feeling in his lower tummy fast approaching. He leaned back over you, your legs still hooked over his biceps as he buried himself into you over and over. You reached your finish- crying out Logan's name as your back arched into him and your hands pulled at his hair. 

He met in another wet kiss as he fucked you through your finish, pounding into you at a near inhuman pace before slamming inside and shooting ropes of cum with a loud grunt, whining into your mouth as he shook over your body. Your pussy tightened around him, like it was milking him of every drop. 

Once you both finished, he collapsed onto your chests. Panting onto your painted breasts, while you tried to come back to your body. He carefully pulled out, and sat up with you, not before pressing several loving kisses over your face while you pushed yourself up limply.

You took each other in- and then the room, realizing just how big of a mess was made of not just yourselves- but the entire room. Paint spilled and splattered on walls and furniture.  

A heartbeat passed, and giggles erupted from you both. Logan wrapped you in an embrace and kissed your temple. Paint had covered you both, stuck in your hair, messily smeared over your face, mixed together in a muddy color along your chest and arms. 

“We need to wash up!- especially before anyone sees.” You laughed and hopped off the table, your legs shook as you still were recovering from your coitus, as you clung onto Logan. 

“Yeah, give us some time for round two,” He purrs, and you smile up at him. Warmth came over you, as you realized that you finally had a name for him, some assurance to what your relationship was.

You both redressed in your painter smattered clothes, just to be able to walk to your bedroom in some decency and to shower. Before you could leave your study- Logan swooped in and picked you up like a bride, leaving you giggling.

He stepped into the hallway, with you in his arms, quietly mumbling sweet nothings to each other. 

“Well, you guys have been busy.” 

You both froze, as Logan turned to the direction of Ororos voice, who stood in the hall with a hand on her hip. 

“Now I see why you didn’t want to come to the zoo.” 

[corvidaith]

bf!kuroo at 18 vs bf!kuroo at 24 (a part 2 will be posted soon)

cw. half-assed attempt at fluff. touch of smut in the end. fingering. corny highschool students. not proofread lol

you two were almost high school graduates. not even a year into your relationship, yet never faltered even before you gave him your sweetest yes to his dedication in rowing through the tunnels that led to your heart. first boyfriend, and god, he was a catch. a genius? check. funny? you don't entirely get him when it's anything related to science but he has his charm. handsome? an understatement, the bedhair that he excuses as his style was questionable though. he easily adjusts in the relationship, you didn't make it hard for him, the poor guy would already be on his knees for you, there wasn't any reason for you to do so anyway. treats you accordingly, and beyond that. he loves a girl that would make him put in extra effort, sees it as a challenge. despite what you assumed men like him would act, kuroo was easy to fall for, and even easier to love the more he spends his hours past school hours with you.

"look here, gorgeous," he hisses at you when you weren't focused on him. unfortunately for you, kuroo was a jerk. you were tired from going through the exams for this day, and you were sure you had more than four mistakes instead of what you were aiming for, that's why he took you out to this hidden gem of a ramen shop to cool some steam off your head. a noticeable grouch was your face's current display, and he had the nerve to even take a quick picture of you.

"what the hell?" your frown deepened, scooting to his side, yanking his phone away from him, wanting to delete the developing image this instance. boy, he could laugh until you were on the brink of spurting little tears from your eyes. "hey, i'm sorry. i didn't know you were pissed, 'kay?" this time he slides his arm around you effortlessly, seeing the picture of you, bitch-faced yet it was all natural. "cute," he pointed out cheekily, making you frown deeper. "it's not, you ass." "i know you're still upset about the tests not coming out the way you wanted to, but i'm sure you scored high. i mean, i was there when you were studying right?" he shook you a little, trying to lift your spirits. "you still great, beautiful. you devour most of the people in your class easily, it's more likely for you to pass than to get your rank pulled."

and that encouraged you, even a little. you pushed your cheek to his shoulder, this was how you show that you understood him. "that's it." a kiss to your forehead was his answer. sure enough, you were smiling as you held up the ramen bowl in the next picture not even five minutes later.

+

"tetsu—god, i can't!" you whisper shouted into his neck, as he was happily on top of you. keeping it real low as you were cramped up in your bedroom, your room was exactly a floor above the living room where your parents were happily chattering and laughing as they watched their not-so interesting series. this was his last visit to your house while you were still high schoolers, half a day away from graduation, and he spends it this way. by scissoring his fingers inside of your swollen cunt. you'd be lying if you denied all the times you touched yourself to the thought of him doing this to you, shoot, maybe even more unearthly than that.

"no... look at you. you think you're so slick? well, you are," he smiles down at you, you know the one you like so much? the one he uses on you when he'd feel bold and right about everything? you would hate to admit how it was awfully sexy. "come on, tell me to stop. and i will. but i don't think you can even say anything right now." he snuck in another finger. intentionally swiping his thumb over the hood of your twitching clit, earning a pitiful whine next to his ear.

his self-discovery was what he was proud of the most. you couldn't bear to mutter out anything but the weak spills of his name from your throat, bucking your hips down to his palm, momentarily arching yourself off the bed. he sped his fingers up, bringing you to your sweetest first orgasm. "tetsu," you panted quietly, milking that release. the faces you made were worth it, after countless daydreams of wondering what it would be like if he made you come. and of course, kisses for the prettiest girl he's ever had his fingers wrapped around, both metaphorically and rhetorically.

[ @corvidaith ‘25. works are mine. ] reblogs and comments are appreciated.

[himasgod]

hello! would it be okay to request ace encouraging and comforting an anxious reader? thank you very much ^^

ACE X READER

Where he sees you running away from class, consumed by anxiety

Where Ace immediately runs after you as he watches you leave the class, but he's still a jerk <3

I think I made this a little more platonic than romantic, I hope you like it!

You didn’t even realize how fast you were walking in the deserted corridor behind the labs.

You weren’t supposed to be here—it was technically off-limits during class hours, but you needed to breathe.

Needed space.

Your thoughts were a tangled mess of unfinished homework, Professor Crewel’s harsh critiques, the looming group presentation with people who barely acknowledged your existence, and the ever-present whisper in the back of your mind that you were somehow screwing everything up.

You made it behind the greenhouse, out of sight, out of breath.

And then you sat.

Hands shaking slightly, the weight of everything pressing against your lungs.

You hated this.

The spinning thoughts, the tight throat, the way you could cry at the drop of a hat even when nothing technically was wrong.

Of course, the universe being the cruel prankster it was—he found you.

“Yo,” came that all-too-familiar voice. Flat. Like he wasn’t the least bit surprised to see you.

You didn’t even lift your head.

“Go away, Ace.”

“Nope,” he said, already crunching across the grass like this was his turf. “You left in the middle of class. That’s like, red-flag level suspicious. Obviously I had to stalk you.”

You looked up, scowling.

“Don’t you have better things to do?”

Ace squatted down in front of you like he had all the time in the wolrld.

“I did, actually. But unfortunately for me, my friend is being a little drama queen, so now I’m on damage control duty.”

You stared at him, unimpressed.

“You’re the worst.”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things.”

You turned your head away, but the fight was already draining out of you.

It always did with Ace.

He had this infuriating ability to defuse you—by being himself. Loud, bratty, ridiculous.Real.

Ace studied you for a second longer, then flopped onto the grass beside you with a heavy sigh.

“Okay, out with it. What’s eating you? And don’t give me that ‘nothing’ crap. You don’t ghost class and look like you're two seconds from collapsing over ‘nothing’.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, suddenly self-conscious.

“I just... I don’t know. Everything’s piling up. I feel like I can’t keep up, and everyone else is handling it fine and I’m just... behind. Failing. Drowning. Take your pick.”

He went quiet for a beat. Then: “Wow.”

You braced for the mockery.

“That was dramatic as hell.”

There it was.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched.

Ace leaned back on his hands, glancing over at you.

“Seriously though. You’re not failing anything. You’re one of the smartest people I know. Even Creweled-to-death, you manage to survive alchemy. That’s basically a miracle.”

You shook your head.

“It doesn’t feel like I’m surviving.”

Ace gave a sharp click of his tongue.

“Yeah, well, feelings lie sometimes. Like when I feel like eating ten cherry pies in one sitting. Bad idea, right? But my feelings say it’s fine. They lie.”

You looked at him, a little incredulous.

“Did you just compare my anxiety to you binge-eating desserts?”

“Exactly,” he said smugly. “Everything’s a metaphor if you’re brave enough.”

You snorted. It broke through your exhaustion like sunlight through fog.

Ace noticed. You could feel the shift in his posture—the slight uptick in energy like he was proud of himself for cracking your armor.

He nudged your arm with his shoulder.

“Look, I’m not gonna pretend I know how to fix this. I’m more of a ‘wing-it-and-hope-I-don’t-fail’ guy. But... if your brain’s being a jerk, I can at least remind you you’re not alone. And you’re not a failure. You’re just... human.”

He paused, then smirked.

“Mostly. I still think you might be a ghost. Or like... a sleep-deprived raccoon in a hoodie.”

“I hate you.”

“Yeah, but you laughed. So I win.”

The quiet that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was soft.

Then, gently:

“Hey.”

You glanced at him. He was looking straight ahead, voice uncharacteristically serious.

“You can come find me next time, y’know. When your head’s all... messy like that. You don’t have to go hide.”

Your heart skipped.

“You wouldn’t mind?” you asked quietly.

He scoffed.

“Of course I’d mind. You’d probably ruin my nap or something.”

But then—he glanced at you from the corner of his eye, and smiled.

“Still. I’d let you.”

[mooniiify]

what about tsukishima with a girlfriend who’s insecure about her glasses?

it starts off a little into their third year of high school. she keeps complaining that her eyes are burning during every study session, sometimes they even water up. and once tsukishima showed her something on his phone and y/n asked him to give her the phone because she couldn’t see, tsukishima pointed out she probably needed glasses.

she scoffed. “no, i don’t. the typing is just too small.”

“i see it perfectly fine with my glasses,” tsukishima pointed out. “when was the last time you got your eyes checked?”

silence fell between the two for a moment. y/n played with her thumbs. “. . . never?”

tsukishima sighed. “just go get them checked. you might not need them, but it’s better to know. otherwise you’re just straining your eyes.”

she waved him off, but decided to actually take his advice and book an appointment. tsukishima hadn’t heard about it, not until she called him on a tuesday two weeks later.

“i look so fucking ugly.” she cried dramatically on the other side of the phone.

tsukishima, who’d been sitting on his desk doing his homework at his house, put his pen down and furrowed his eyebrows. “what are you talking about?”

“you were right, my eyes are shit snd i got glasses but i hate them. i’m never wearing them.”

tsukishima scoffed as he leaned back in his chair. “they can’t be that bad. show me.”

“no. they’re ugly.”

“well, i can’t judge if i don’t see them.”

“you’ll never see them. i don’t need your judgement, too!”

tsukishima took his phone off his ear and tired to switch the call to a video call, which y/n immediately rejected. “don’t even try! i’m refusing to wear them.”

“i’m sure you look fine, dumbass,” tsukishima tried to reassure her. he touched his own glasses for a moment. “can you at least see better with them?”

“. . . yes, i can. the doctors said i should wear them all the time if possible so i don’t strain my eyes further, but i don’t want to.”

“you’re being dramatic, it really can’t be that bad.”

“dramatic?” y/n scoffed in the other side. “fuck off. i’m going to go and self-pity since my boyfriend won’t allow me to.”

before tsukishima could say anything the call ended. he sighed and got up, grabbing his wallet and keys on the way.

y/n, on the other hand, sat on her desk. a small mirror faced her as she held her brand new glasses — those ugly little things. she didn’t want to put them on, not again. those had looked good in the store but now they made her face look so odd; she hated it. she was never—

a knock. y/n stilled in her seat. “you in there?”

his voice. “how did you get here?”

“your mom let me in. can i come in?”

y/n sighed. “fine.”

she heard the door open, then close. she heard tsukishima’s footsteps approaching her, then saw from the corner of her eye as he placed a plastic bag on the desk, right next to her elbow.

“i got you something from the store.” tsukishima’s long finger pointed at the glasses still in y/n’s hand. “so that’s them?”

“yup.”

tsukishima took a moment, his eyes stuck on the glasses. “it’s just some average glasses. that you need to see.”

“yes, i’m aware. thank you.”

tsukishima sighed. “come on, put them on.”

“no.”

“you know, you’ll have to wear them eventually. if you don’t, you’ll strain your eyes more and your eye sight is gonna get worse and it’ll start to sting, and—“

“okay, okay! i get it,” y/n cut him off, grumbling as she opened the frames. “why do you always have to be so reasonable?”

normally, he would’ve teased her further, but seeing as she was finally feeling comfortable enough to put on her glasses, he didn’t want to ruin it for her. he was an asshole, but not that big.

the glasses were on and y/n stood up, looking at him. “there they are, ugly as hell. you happy?”

“do you see with them?”

y/n was taken aback. that wasn’t the response she was expecting. “huh? i mean, i guess so.”

“yeah? i see with my glasses, too.” tsukishima took a step closer. he didn’t touch her, keeping his hands on his hips. “and you know what i see with them? i see you, just as i’d see you every day, and you look as pretty as usual. if anything, in my eyes you look better, knowing your blind ass can finally see.”

y/n wasn’t sure if she wanted to punch him or kiss him.

“why can’t you ever compliment me normally?”

“that’s not what you signed up for.”

still, his words stuck with her. he’d helped, in his weird, tsukishima-esque way.

[mrsbarnesblog]

my everything

masterlist ko-fi ao3

Summary: The last thing that Bucky ever expected to see was the love of his life from the past trapped in one of the Hydra bunkers in the cryofreeze chamber. Yet here he was almost two days later, staring at your still unconscious body through the window at the medical wing, imagining the horror and disgust on your face when you found out that he was no longer the innocent and happy boy you knew before.

Word count: 6.8K

Warnings: angst and fluff, I fucked up original timeline so there is no civil war in here, bucky needs and gets a hug, you're bucky's gf from the 40's, cryofreeze, self hate talk, happy end.

Author's note: enjoy💘

“Aren't you fucking tired of this?” Bucky growled as he burst into the common room where Sam, Steve, and Natasha were sitting. "If you set me up on another date, Wilson, I'll break your fucking wings."

Sam rolled his eyes and said, "Calm down, cyborg. Look at you, all angry and stressed out; you need to get laid! When was the last time you’ve been on a date?"

Steve raised his eyebrows in surprise as he glanced between his two friends.

"Sit down, Barnes." Nat nodded her head at the couch across from her. Bucky hesitated for a few seconds, as too many feelings were bubbling inside of him, but he obeyed and sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now explain what happened.”

 "This idiot is trying to set me up again.” He said, nodding towards Sam. "And I told you I'm not interested."

 “But why? Don't you want to feel like back in the days and have some fun with pretty women? This Hydra shit clearly wasn’t good for you. You’re too tense and always mad. Go on a date, maybe you’ll find a good girl to spend some time with.” Sam genuinely wanted to help his friend, and he didn’t understand why Bucky was so mad about it.

The look on Bucky’s face was weird. Like he wanted to say something but, at the same time, didn’t want to share his thoughts. 

“Are you already dating someone?” Natasha leaned with her elbows on her knees and studied his face. There was definitely something that Bucky didn’t want to say.

Steve looked between the three of his friends, and when Nat asked Bucky a question, it was like a bulb turned on in his head.

 "Buck…" Bucky met Steve's eyes, holding eye contact for a few seconds, like they were talking about something that only they knew.

 “Hey!” Sam said, waving his hands. “What are you two doing? Do you know something, Rogers?”

 “Buck, is it because of her?” The blonde said it almost in a whisper. “You still remember, right?”

“Did you have a girlfriend before the war?” Natasha, as always, understood everything immediately, and it was funny to see how Sam’s mouth fell open in shock.

Bucky clenched and unclenched his hands in his lap, not sure if he should reveal the truth. He had kept it to himself for so long—ever since he escaped Hydra and the memories from the past started to flood his head. It was too painful to think about you. To think about the woman who was his whole life many years ago. He remembered everything, and now he sees you in his dreams almost every night. Sometimes in nightmares, sometimes in the good ones, about the life that you two would’ve had if he hadn’t gone to war.

“What the hell are you hiding from us?” Sam shouted again, trying to get attention.

 “I…” Bucky frowns, staring at his hands. “I had a girlfriend... before the army, before the Hydra.” He closed his eyes and tried to control his breathing. Just the thought of you hurt him, making him regret everything. That he left, that he didn’t marry you, and that the universe had this shitty plan.

 “And that’s why you don’t want to go out with someone?” Come on, man, how long has it been?  80 years? Get over it. It must have been another one of your girlfriends that you hooked up with when you were young.” He chuckled, looking between his friends, none of whom seemed happy with his choice of words.

 "Sam, don't—"

“You sound like an asshole.” 

 “Get over it?” Bucky didn’t let Steve or Nat finish their sentences before he barked at Sam, looking even more angry than before. “Just another one of my girlfriends? Do you have any idea what the fuck you're talking about, Wilson? " He looked like he was ready to kick his friend right in the face. “She wasn’t one of them. In fact, there was no “them”. In my entire life, I’ve never even touched another woman because I've been in love with Y/N since I was 14. We started dating when I turned 18, and I proposed before I had to go to the war.”

Bucky’s emotions quickly changed as the hot rage turned into a longing for memories and feelings. He felt a lump in his throat, so he reached into his pocket for his wallet, from which he pulled out your old and shabby photo, gently running his finger over your face.

“Y/N was everything to me. She said yes, and I promised her that I would return so we could get married. I imagined that I would spend my whole life with her, you know? I don't need any other woman. I do not want it. I still love her, and I don't care if either of you find it funny.

The room fell into heavy silence. Steve just looked out the window, remembering the times when the three of you went to Coney Island, and he was always the third wheel. You were his friend too, and the aching feeling in his chest was too heavy.

Sam felt a little bit awkward after saying these things about your relationships. He wanted to tease Bucky, not be rude.

Natasha was the one who took the first step when she stretched the arm so Bucky would give her the photo. “You two look so cheesy. She’s really gorgeous.” She smirked, looking at the old black-and-white photo of you two sitting on the bench. Your back was almost lying on Bucky’s body, and his arms were wrapped around you. It seemed like you were talking about something and enjoying the private moment. Bucky had the biggest smile Natasha has ever seen on his face, as he was looking at you with heart eyes.

 “Can I see?” Sam finally asked, nodding at the photograph in Natasha's hands. She passed him the photo and Bucky moved in his place, feeling a little bit uncomfortable about revealing this part of his life. 

“You two look cute. Weird to see a smile on your face.” Sam chuckled.

“Where did you find this photo?” Steve leaned closer to the picture, immediately remembering the day you and Bucky took it and the way Bucky has had it with him ever since.

 “I took it to the war. Always had it in a jacket, even on missions. She was with me that day on the train. I think Hydra found this in my pocket. When I ran away from there, I found a box with my stuff; the photo was there.”

 “Have you… tried to find something about her?” Steve lifted his head, studying his friend's reaction.

 “Yeah,” Bucky sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t know how, but I didn’t find anything. Two years after my fall, there was no record of her. No marriage certificate, no place of residence, no place of work. Nothing. Like she just disappeared.” He shook his head in despair. 

 “But it's impossible.” Steve frowned, giving the photo back. “A person can't just disappear and leave nothing behind.”

 "I don't know," Bucky shrugged, looking back at the photo for a second and then slipping it back into his wallet. "Maybe it's for the best. I don't know how I would come to terms with the news of her death.”

It’s been almost two weeks since that conversation, and luckily for Bucky, Sam didn’t attempt to set him up with anyone anymore.

Earlier that day, Tony announced that his new technology had spotted some weird activity in something that looked like an old and hidden Hydra base. It was pretty much abandoned, but there were signs of small energy consumption, as if something was still constantly working. That’s why the team of Bucky, Steve, Sam, and Tony had to check it out and destroy any possible danger.

After being free from Hydra, Bucky didn’t take part in many missions because the team agreed that it would be better for him to heal and stay far away from triggers. But this base brought up many concerns: it was hidden far away, there was no information about it in nonofficial papers, and even Bucky himself had never heard about it. Tony insisted that someone with knowledge of the Hydra system should go there too.

When the four of them arrived on the quinjet at something that looked like a well-hidden abandoned bunker, they decided not to split up and go through the main and only entrance.

“Be careful; we don’t know that they might hide in here.” Steve said, going in first with a shield in front of him. Bucky and Sam went after him, holding rifles and checking the big and almost empty room.

“They should clean in here, kinda dusty.” Tony chuckled in his usual playful voice. 

“It’s not a good time for your jokes, Stark.” Steve was always a little too serious during missions, and Tony really liked pushing his buttons. “I see the light in the other room.” He whispered, carefully opening the door. 

“Holy shit.” Sam and Tony spoke at the same time when all four of them entered the giant room.

There were five big glass machines that were a little bit foggy and had a little lightning in them.

“What is this?” Steve ran closer to one of them and saw that there was a man inside. “Oh my god, there is a man in here... It looks like he’s alive.”

“There is a folder called “The Winter Soldier Program” with personal information.” Sam said, picking up a file from the shelf in the corner of the room. “George Harris, 27 from New York. Kathleen Hill, 21 from New York…” He read, mumbling to himself.

“It’s a cryostasis chamber. Hydra used it to freeze me.” Bucky lowered his rifle, coming closer to one of the chambers. Another man. “It lowers your body temperature to the point that you can be kept like that for many years. Hydra– “ Bucky went silent when he got to another glass camera. 

“Barnes? Why is there—” Sam didn’t finish his words when the sound of Bucky’s weapon falling on the cold concrete filled the room. 

“No-no-no, please, no!” He whispered, moving closer to the glass. He couldn’t believe what he saw. 

You were right in front of him, with closed eyes and too pale skin. That was impossible. It’s not you. There was no chance that you somehow ended up with Hydra. 

Bucky felt like he was unable to breathe. He tried to inhale some air, but the lump in his throat was too big. The tears blurred his vision; he didn’t hear anything around him, as your almost lifeless body was the only thing that he thought about. You, his sweet girl, somehow ended up trapped with monsters, and he couldn’t do anything to save you from it. 

“Bucky!” Two pairs of hands dragged him from the chamber, and the blurry vision of his best friend was now visible in front of him. “Bucky, listen to me! You should calm down, buddy. Just breathe, okay?” Steve deeply inhaled and exhaled to help Bucky, and after a few minutes, he was finally able to speak.

“T-that’s impossible, Steve. She shouldn’t be there! She should’ve found another man and lived a happy life with her family!” He said in a shaking voice, angrily wiping away tears from his face. 

“I don’t know how this happened, Buck; I really don’t. But she may be alive there.” Steve supportively squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. 

“We can’t just take these people out. We should transport them to the tower and find the safest way to unfreeze them.” Tony said in a serious voice, not joking around anymore. He walked closer to the chambers, studying each of them. “It looks like they are working on their own power, and this one, “he pointed at the one that was dark and with water drops from the inside. “Doesn’t work anymore. The man is probably dead.” 

“Are there any chances of getting them out of there alive?” Sam glared at Bucky, who was just staring at your peaceful but haggard face through the glass.

“I don’t know, but me and Banner will do everything we can.”

It took another day to find a way to move four of the still-working chambers to the compound and ten more hours to defrost everyone. and to say that Bucky was completely stressed out and exhausted was an understatement. He didn’t sleep at all, staying in the room near the lab to get all the news as soon as possible. He walked around the room for hours, overthinking everything—what will happen if you die or if you survive? Is it really better for you to wake up and see all the damage that he has done for the past years? To see the empty shell of the person you loved in the past?

“Barnes!” Tony blasted through the doors with a grin on his face. “We did it.”

“You did it?” Bucky’s whole body was buzzing with energy and anxiety. “Where is she? Is she alive? Is she conscious? Can I see her?”

“Wow-wow, calm down. She is alive, but you can’t see or visit her right now. Dr. Cho has to run many tests to find out whether your lovebird is healthy or not.” Tony nodded his head toward the corridor so Bucky would follow him. “We put each of them into a different room, and your Blonde Bestie insisted on putting Y/N into the best and the biggest one. There is a special window through which you can see her, but she cannot see you from the inside. So you can be as creepy as you want to until she gets better.” Stark slapped Bucky on the shoulder to show some kind of support when they stopped in front of the said window. 

You were lying on the bed, surrounded by too many wires and monitors. Dr. Cho was standing above you, writing something down, and checking the device near your head.

She said something aloud, probably talking to FRIDAY, and came out of the room. 

“Oh, Mr.Barnes, I heard that Y/N was your girlfriend, right?” She smiled, and Bucky slightly nodded, not being able to completely drag his attention from your body. “I’ll tell you this: it’s my most difficult and unique case, but she’s a strong one. Her body heals faster than other people’s from cryo. I believe she’ll be fully awake tomorrow.” 

“Thank you, Dr.Cho.” Bucky felt a little bit better now that he had more hope that you could really be back. Dr.Cho gave him another smile and left to check on her other patients. 

“I have to find out if these people have families. Did Y/N have someone who might be alive?” Tony asked. 

“No, she didn’t.”

“I’ll go, and you, Barnes, will stay away from her for now, understood?” He pointed a finger into Bucky’s face. 

“Yes. I’ll just watch from here.” 

You were alive. You were awake. Bucky saw with his own eyes as your body started moving and you slowly sat on the bed, confused by your surroundings. He saw panic on your face because you were clearly disoriented and scared to be alone in an unknown place. 

As fast as he could, he found Dr. Cho, who was in the room with Steve and Natasha. When he, choking on all the emotions, told them about you, it was a mess. 

Dr. Cho and a few other nurses ran to your room to check your condition because you were the first one to open your eyes.

Bucky, Steve, and Nat stood on the other side of the window. Bucky wasn’t able to fully convince himself that it was true that you were so close to him. It felt like a dream, like a weird picture that his brain created to comfort him. 

“She’s okay, Buddy.” Steve placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder because it seemed like he didn’t even blink or breathe. “You can see her soon.”

“No.” He mumbled.

“What?” His friend’s head shot in his direction.

“Someone else should talk to her first. Tell her about my past. Maybe she won’t even want to see me after everything I’ve done.”

“I can go and talk to her first.” Natasha softly smiled. She knew the feeling when you’re afraid that someone will leave you because of your past. “I think it’s better for Y/N to first find out that she woke up in the new century and that she was cryofrozen for many years. I’ll tell her that Steve is alive, and then me and you can both tell her about Bucky.” 

Bucky just nodded to her words, still not being able to look at anything besides you. He wasn’t sure that after you find out all the truth, you’ll allow him to even be around you, so for now, he tried to memorize you as much as he could. 

Since the moment you opened your eyes, everything felt unknown and different. You couldn’t explain it, but something had changed. You didn’t know where you were, what time it was, how you ended up in that place, or who all these people were. You felt scared as too many doctors crowded your room and fussed around, talking about tests and medical procedures. 

The young woman who seemed to be in charge was actually really sweet. After only you and her were left in the room, she sat on your bed with a pile of clothes in her hands and smiled at you. 

“So, Y/N, my name is Dr. Cho, and I’m here to help you heal faster and without any consequences.” 

“Where am I?” Your voice was too raspy and harsh. It felt like you swallowed a glass of sand. 

She sighed, looking at her journal. “It’s hard to explain, but I promise that there’s nothing to worry about. You are safe. In a few minutes, someone will visit you to talk about everything and answer any of your questions. Now, I was told to give you these clothes so it would be more comfortable for you. You can change in the bathroom right there; there is also anything you might need like a toothbrush, soap, and so on.” She pointed at the door in the corner of the room. 

You stayed silent until Dr. Cho left your room, and then slowly, feeling kind of scared to move around this place, you went to the bathroom to change out of the hospital gown. 

The bathroom looked even weirder than the main room; you had never seen such furniture and interiors. And when you unfolded your new clothes, it took you a few seconds to figure it out. It was some kind of soft pants and a large t-shirt. What kind of clothes was it? Yes, they were actually comfortable, but it wasn’t something that you saw in the stores. 

While you were brushing your teeth, your brain was working too hard trying to figure out what the hell was going on, until you heard someone calling your name. 

“Hey, Y/N, my name is Natasha.” The pretty red-headed woman was standing near your bed with a tray and food in her hands. 

“Please, tell me what’s going on. Where am I? Why does everything look so strange here?” You said in a desperate voice, you almost wanted to scream because you woke up several hours ago, but no one told you a single thing.

“Don’t be nervous, honey. Let's sit on the bed; you’ll eat your special meal, and I’ll tell you everything you want.” She was so nice and genuine, so you nodded and sat down. 

Natasha placed a tray near you, and you saw that it was your favorite food of all time. You took a bite, and your taste buds were immediately filled with the taste of the meal that James cooked you almost every day. James. It was his recipe. The tears flooded your eyes when all of the memories about your dead boyfriend returned to your head. Yeah, how could you forget that it had been at least two years since he was gone? 

“Y/N? What happened?” Natasha’s worried voice distracted you. 

“It just reminded me of someone. I felt like I was home, and it hurts me because nothing is the same anymore.” You wiped your tears away, taking another bite. 

“I promise you that everything is going to be okay. You are not alone here.” You frowned at her words but still nodded. “So ask whatever you want to.” 

“Where am I, and why does everything look so different?”

“You are at the Avengers Tower, located in Manhattan, New York City. I know that might sound ridiculous, but you were in the cryostasis chamber up until now. It’s 2023, and a lot of things have changed in the world; that's why it might be confusing.”

You stayed silent for a few seconds, overthinking Natasha’s words. “It can’t be true. I can’t be more than one hundred years old now. And I look the same.” 

“This is how cryostasis works—it freezes the body so it can survive many years without any changes. Now tell me how you ended up with Hydra. What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” 

“Back in the 40s, I was a nurse. My– my boyfriend— he died during the war.” You stopped because of the lump in your throat. It was too hard to bring back these memories because it was the first time you said these words out loud. “He died, and then my closest friend died too, and I just had no one left. I was alone, and I didn’t even know what to live for because all of my dreams about family and a happy life with the person I loved died too.” Natasha put her hand over yours on the bed and gave you a supportive squeeze. “Then one day in our hospital, scientists were looking for people who would like to test new serums. I decided that I had nothing to lose, so me and a few other nurses signed in.” 

“Kathleen, Josh, Adam, and Frank, right?” The woman in front of you gave you a sad smile.

“Yes, how do you know that?” 

“We found them with you. Adam’s camera was broken, so he died a long time ago, but the rest of them are here too, but, unfortunately, they haven’t regained consciousness yet.” 

You nodded. Your food was now done and set aside, and you sat on the bed more comfortably, bringing your knees to your chest. “These scientists were running some tests on us in the lab that they brought us in. It felt weird, and I remember that Kathleen always complained that it was painful. The last thing that happened was that they told us to step into a weird-looking machine that was meant to be a part of some kind of experiment. That’s it.”

“It was Hydra. A terrorist organization that tried to rule the world. They were evil, and you were lucky to get out of there alive.” Natasha pursed her lips. “Thank you for telling me this.” 

You two sat in silence for a few seconds until she looked over her shoulder at the weird-looking mirror that took up almost a whole wall. 

“Is anything wrong?” You furrowed.

“I have to tell and show you something really important, but everyone is worried about how you are going to react to this.” She studied your face with a weird expression. 

“Is there anything more crazy than me being in another century after I was frozen?” You tried to smile, but Natasha just nodded. 

“I’ll be right back. Please, try to breathe, okay?” She stood from your bed, took the tray, and left. 

Natasha came back, and behind her was the last person you ever expected to see again. You jumped on your feet, feeling like your eyes were lying to you. 

“This—this can’t be true... No, Natasha—Steve, you died.” You mumbled under your breath. Your heart rate was way higher than usual, and it felt like you were drowning. You put your hand over your eyes, as your body started shaking. It’s just a dream. It’s just a weird fucking dream.

Two large hands wrapped around your body, pulling you into the hard chest. “Sh-s, Y/N, breathe, just breathe.” His familiar voice filled your ears, and you started crying harder, gripping his shirt. He was rocking you from side to side like a baby, while your tears and sobs filled the silent room.

“What– how– how is this possible? You crushed the plane into ice.” You shattered, tears running down your face.

“The Super Soldier serum saved me. The S.H.I.E.L.D. found my body 12 years ago.” Steve loosened his arms around you, allowing you to look up at him. He was exactly the same. This blonde hair, these light blue eyes, and that soft smile that he always had for you. “Please, sit back on the bed. We have a lot to talk about.” His face was now more serious. Even though he was extremely happy to get back his second closest best friend, he knew that Bucky was dying without you.

Steve and Bucky both looked at your interaction with Natasha, and it was obvious that everything Bucky wanted was for you to be near him. He looked through that window without any distraction, and his face lit up with a small smile when you tasted the food that he cooked for you and became emotional. He knew that you would appreciate it.

“About what?” You wiped your face with the back of your hand and sat down, holding Steve's hand. Natasha, who was still standing in the middle of the room, passed him a thick folder and left. Steve sat near you and gave you a supportive smile. 

“Bucky.” 

You froze and snatched your hand out of his. 

“Steve, no. Please—” You wrapped your hands around your body, as if you were instantly trying to hide from the pain that was aching in your chest. “Please, don’t hurt me anymore. I can’t handle that. Talking about him w-when he’s not with me anymore.” The sods started to get out of you, and you hid your face from Steve’s soft and apologizing eyes.

“He is alive.” Steve’s hands fell on your shoulders, and he lowered his head, trying to make you look him in the eyes.

“Don’t lie to me! He is dead; I saw the reports; I got the letter from Phillips saying that he’s sorry for our loss!” You particularly yelled at your friend. 

“Y/N, listen to me, okay? Bucky is alive. He is here. Behind that door, he’s watching us right now.” You were shaking your head in denial. 

That was impossible. You knew all this story; Steve himself told you what happened that day. There was no chance for Bucky to survive the fall from that height in the middle of nowhere. Yet here was Steve, sitting right before you. His big blue and soft eyes were looking into your eyes, and you didn’t see a single sign of hesitation or lying in there. He was so genuine that you wanted to believe that your boyfriend was, in fact, a few meters away from you.

“How? And why? James– he would’ve been with me if he were alive. Why isn’t he here?” You sobbed, and then the realization came to you. “That food—the food that Natsha brought me. It tasted exactly like he made it.”

“Bucky thought that it might comfort you. He found you in that laboratory, he has been near you since that day, and he saw that you were scared and disoriented when you woke up. And that's why I am here. Bucky insisted that I should talk to you first and tell you everything. He is afraid that you might not see him anymore after finding out everything that is written here.” Steve picked up the folder and put it on your lap. 

“The Winter Soldier” was written on top of the old-looking piece of paper, and for some reason you felt something weird in your chest.

“I want to let you know that whatever is in here, it cannot make me hate him.” You mumbled, hesitating to open the folder. “What’s in there, Steve? Tell me everything.”

“These are the papers that S.H.I.E.L.D. and Hydra had on the Winter Soldier. Everything that happened to him: experiments, torture, assassinations, crimes. This is what happened to Bucky after the fall. This is what Hydra did to him over these years.” 

You felt a lump in your throat when you opened the first page and saw Bucky’s photo from the army. But nothing prepared you for everything you read and saw after that. He wasn’t even James or Bucky anymore. He was a Soldier. An Asset. Someone without an identity. All the detailed descriptions of the medical procedures, brainwashing, electroshock, torture, and punishments with attached photos made you want to vomit and cry hysterically. You couldn’t stop crying when your shaking hands took a picture of the love of your life sitting shirtless and unconscious on some kind of stool with wires attached to his head. 

How could someone do that? How could someone torture a person almost to death and then just write about it like it was a fucking dairy? 

“His arm, it’s metal. Why is it made from metal?” Your teary-red eyes shoot back to Steve’s face. 

“Bucky lost it during the fall. They gave him a new one, but it causes him a lot of pain. Physical and mental.”

“I don’t— Steve, I don’t understand.” You took another picture with Bucky standing in his full black costume and a mask, not a single emotion on his face. “Why did they do this? For what?” 

“Hydra wanted to have the perfect asset. Killing machine. To commit crimes, kill unwanted people, and basically rule the world.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, looking at the floor. “They made Bucky the best. They completely cleared his head from the memories of his past; they trained him to be invincible and invisible. They had a special combination of words to control him, so he would always come back and do as he was told.”

You closed the file and moved it aside, closing your face with your hands while you were crying.

“And he thinks that I can reject him?” You whispered.

“Y/N, please try to understand what such things can do to your brain. Bucky goes to therapy, but he probably would never be able to fully heal from this experience.” His hand fell on your shoulder and squeezed it slightly. “Bucky always was a good person; that's why right now he feels so much guilt that it’s unimaginable. Even if nothing of this is his fault, he can’t forgive himself for these murders and damage. He has PTSD, nightmares, and a lot of trust issues.”

“I understand, but I would’ve never rejected him. He’s everything that I had, and when I lost him, it felt like hell.” You took a deep breath, looking Steve in the eyes. “Please, let me see him. I need it, and he needs it too.” Steve’s eyes softened at you. He almost forgot the love that his two best friends had for each other. 

“Give me a minute, okay?” He smiled, kissed your head, and left your room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You were really going to see the man that you thought you had lost forever in a few seconds. It was almost three years for you, but almost eighty for him. A wave of anxiety washed over you when you thought that maybe he doesn’t feel the same anymore and doesn’t have the same feelings as you do. You almost went down a rabbit hole until the door started to open. 

You slowly stood up, feeling a little bit uneasy. Even though you and Steve were just talking about it, seeing Bucky alive felt unreal. Your eyes were sliding up and down his face to remember every little part. He looked different, more mature, with a broad chest and shoulders and long, silky hair. 

Bucky’s heart was pounding in his ears, and his mouth was completely dry while you were observing him. You had tears in your eyes, and your lower lip was trembling when you tried to hold yourself from crying out loud. You were in some baggy clothes that Nat found for you, but you still looked fucking gorgeous. Still the most beautiful girl on the whole planet. 

“Doll…” Bucky’s raspy voice filled the room, and it was everything you needed. 

In just a second, you ran to him, falling right into his body. Arms wrapped around his shoulders, and your face hidden into his neck. 

As soon as Bucky finally hugged your smaller body and felt that it was real and that you were real, he broke down. Every last piece of strength went through the window as the tears rolled down his cheeks, probably soaking your t-shirt.

He wanted to drop to his knees and beg for your forgiveness for all of the awful things that he had done. He didn’t deserve you anymore, not with this much blood on his hands. But Bucky couldn’t do what he wanted because your grip on him was so strong that he wasn’t even able to move away for an inch. 

“James…” Your quiet voice filled his ears, and it sent shivers down his spine. Only you and his ma called him that, and he missed it so fucking much.

Bucky’s hands moved from your waist a little bit lower, and you viewed it as an opportunity to get even closer. Your legs instantly wrapped around his body, and Bucky, making sure that you wouldn’t fall, went to the bed and sat down with you on his knees. 

“I’m so sorry... I’m so sorry for everything that I’ve done.” He sobbed, shaking his head. You pulled away a little bit, finally meeting Bucky face-to-face. 

“Don’t you dare apologize for the things that you weren’t able to control, James!” Your voice suddenly became rough, filled with so much anger toward the people who hurt your precious boy. His hand on your waist tightened, and you slid your own to cup Bucky’s face. “I want to kill every one of them. Everyone who hurt you, who punished you,” Soft fingertips traced the delicate skin of the templates where, as you remember from the photos, wires with electricity were placed. “You didn’t deserve to go through this, James. I wish I was there for you.” 

“You were always with me. Even when they wiped me, I still had someone in my head. A woman with a soft voice, who told me that I'm strong and that it will end soon. I would’ve died without it.” You both were looking into each other's teary eyes, both feeling too much love and desire. 

Your head slightly tilted towards his, connecting your foreheads, and for a few seconds, it felt like home. Like nothing happened and you two were just having a lazy morning in bed.

The calloused hand on the side of your face brought you back to reality. Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes were looking into yours, and, sharing one thought, you both moved closer and connected your lips. The kiss was so soft, slow, and gentle, like you had the whole time in the world. It was this type of kiss that said that you both were there and alive. It was a reminder of the love that you had for each other. Reassurance, that no matter what, you will be there.

“I missed you so fucking much, doll. Since the day I first remembered everything, all I could think about was you. Even tried to find you, but there was not a single document. I started to believe that you just found a man, changed your last name, and moved away from that mess.” You were so close to each other, not wanting to split up even for a second. Your hands were moving up and down Bucky’s hard chest while he was rubbing the soft skin of your cheek with his thumb.

“Are you joking, James? No one was able to replace you. The only people I talked to during that time were your mom and Becca.” His facial expression slightly changed at the mention of his family, and you placed a soft kiss on his stubble cheek. “I should’ve been the one who took care of them, but I was nothing without you, and Winnie almost made me move in with them. That’s why I jumped at the opportunity to be a volunteer for these tests.” 

Bucky shook his head, his eyes again full of regret and pain. “I hate that it happened because of me.”

“At least I’m here right now. With you.” You smiled, sliding your hand into his dark, long locks. “You know, James, you look really good for someone who’s older than one hundred years old. I like your hair. And stubble.” His eyes rolled back at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. It had been so long since someone touched him without an intention to hurt him, and the realization of that made your heart swell with the need to take care of your boyfriend. 

“You know that you’re one year younger than me, right?” Your favorite little smirk in the whole world appeared on Bucky’s lips, and you smiled, moving a little bit closer to his body. The metal hand on your waist tightened, and you realized that you hadn't seen it in person yet. 

Your right hand reached behind you, grabbing a hard wrist that was covered in leather. Bucky’s body immediately froze under you, and his eyes snapped open. 

“Doll, no… You don’t have to...” 

“I want to. Give me your hand, James.” You said without any hesitation. Bucky looked you in the eyes for a few seconds, but then brought his metal hand between your bodies. “It’s just me, okay? I’m not scared, and I want to know everything.” You wrapped both of your hands around his hand and then gently started to take off the glove. 

The dark metal with beautiful golden stripes was shining under the bright light of the room. Your mouth slightly opened when you moved each finger with interest. Your gentle hands slid higher, rolling up the sleeve of the red henley Bucky was wearing. It was so smooth, without any sharp details, just an amazing and mind-blowing mechanism. 

“That’s so beautiful.” You mumbled in awe. Suddenly the plates under your hands moved, and a quiet whirring sound filled the room. You shot your eyes back at Bucky in shock, only to see that he was already looking at you with so much love that you almost melted. “Did you do that?” 

“It’s a new arm, not from Hydra. It reacts to my emotions. No one ever touched it without any fear.” You almost missed that last sentence, but the hurt in Bucky’s voice made you grab his face with your hands to get his whole attention.

“Listen to me, James. I’m not afraid of you. I won’t reject you. You are everything that I want. You still have the biggest and kindest heart of the guy that I met many years ago, and I’ll do everything to prove to you this.” The metal hand carefully touched your hand on the side of his face. “I love you. I love you so much, James.”

“I love you too, Doll. More than anything in this life,” Your lips crushed into each other, now sharing a more passionate and deep kiss. You slightly tilted your head, allowing Bucky to part your lips with his tongue and playfully bite you. It was almost too overwhelming, and you both were completely lost in each other until you finally needed to breathe. 

“Stay here with me, please. I don’t want you to leave.” You whined, trying to push your big and strong super soldier onto the bed. 

“I won’t leave, baby.” He chuckled, allowing you to push him back. You happily giggled and laid near him, interlacing your bodies together. 

You two were just staying in your own little bubble on your bed for what seemed like forever, talking about everything and nothing at the same time, until you finally fell asleep, feeling happy and peaceful in each other's arms.  

[maskedbyghost]

When the Walls Fall (p. 5)

Summary: Simon’s never been great at dealing with feelings, especially when they come out of nowhere. From the moment he laid eyes on you, something shifted, but he did his best to keep it under wraps. It’s only when Price steps in, playing a little bit of matchmaker, that Simon’s forced to face what he’s been ignoring. Between the awkward tension, the attraction, and a little help from the Captain, maybe they’ll both figure out what’s been right in front of them all along. Word count: 2 k PART 1 PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 Something full of fluff because you guys deserved it.

Simon woke up to the beeping sound of a heart monitor and the sterile scent of a hospital room. His body felt heavy, and for a moment, he just lay there, staring up at the dimly lit ceiling, trying to remember how the hell he got here.

His head was foggy, thoughts sluggish, but then it hit him all at once—the ambush, the gunfire, the pain. You.

His breath hitched slightly. He remembered everything. The way you had held onto him, the desperation in your voice as you begged him to stay with you. And worst of all—his own words.

“I’m in love with you.”

Simon let out a breath while dragging a hand over his face. Fuck. What the hell had he done? He hadn’t meant to say it. He’d spent so long burying it, pushing you away, making sure you never knew. And yet, in his weakest moment, he’d let it all out.

You were going to hate him now. You’d avoid him, keep your distance, pretend none of it happened. He had ruined everything.

His jaw clenched, a familiar self-loathing creeping up his spine. He had one job—to keep you at arm’s length, to make sure you never got close enough to be hurt by the mess that was him. And yet, he had failed spectacularly.

But then, a voice cut through the silence.

"I hate seeing your face like that," you murmured. "Because it means you're thinking about something. And it's probably something not true."

Simon startled slightly, his head snapping toward the voice. He thought he was alone. His eyes scanned the dim room, and then he saw you—sitting in the corner, surrounded by shadows.

His heart stuttered in his chest. You were here.

You shifted in your seat before standing up, the soft glow from the window catching your face as you moved toward him. There was no anger in your expression. No disgust. No avoidance.

Simon didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know how to breathe properly, let alone how to face you after everything. He could only watch as you stepped closer to his bed, your eyes locked onto his, waiting for him to speak.

But of course, Simon had no idea what to say as always.

You stopped a few feet from his bed, arms crossing over your chest as you studied him. Simon could barely meet your eyes, his fingers flexing against the hospital sheets like he wanted to grab onto something to ground himself.

"How do you feel?" you finally asked, voice softer than he expected.

Simon exhaled slowly, forcing himself to look at you. "Like I got shot," he muttered.

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. "Smartass."

He huffed through his nose, a smirk appearing on his face before vanishing just as quickly. Silence settled between you for a moment, not uncomfortable, but heavy with everything unsaid. He knew you were waiting for him to speak, to explain, but he didn’t know where to start.

So he defaulted to the worst possible assumption. "Are you here out of pity?" His voice was quiet.

Your expression didn’t change at first. Then, after a second, you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "Jesus, Simon."

He tensed.

You stepped closer, arms dropping to your sides. "Stop thinking so little of yourself."

He swallowed; throat suddenly dry. "It's not—"

"It is." You cut him off, your gaze firm. "You act like you’re this untouchable, broken thing, like no one could ever want you for anything other than pity." You gestured toward him. "You think I sat in this room for hours because I feel sorry for you?"

Simon didn't respond. He wasn't sure he could.

"You are so fucking stubborn," you muttered, rubbing your forehead before sighing. "I don’t pity you, Simon. I care about you."

His chest tightened, something deep inside him twisting painfully at the words.

You sat on the edge of his bed, your voice quieter now. "I meant what I said before. You think too much. And most of the time? You’re wrong.”

Simon blinked, caught between disbelief and hope. He was still trying to process it, trying to make sense of the warmth in your eyes, the steadiness in your voice.

But before he could say anything, you reached out, hand hovering near his before finally resting gently on top of it.

And just like that, for the first time since waking up, he could finally breathe.

-

The barracks were the same as always—dim lighting, the smell of stale coffee, and the low hum of conversation between the team. It had been weeks since Simon had been here, weeks of recovery and restless nights spent thinking too much. But now, he was back, and everything felt almost normal again. Almost.

Price leaned back in his chair; arms crossed over his chest as he gave Simon a once-over. “You look like shit.”

Simon grunted. “Good to be back.”

Gaz smirked. “Missed you too, mate.”

Soap was grinning like an idiot, arms draped over the back of the couch. “So, how’s it feels to be in one piece again?”

Simon was about to answer when the door opened, and you walked in.

Everything else faded.

For a second, it was like the first time he saw you—back when you joined the team. Now he knew you, knew the way your eyes softened when you were worried, the way you scoffed when he said something self-deprecating, the way you stood by his side even when he gave you every reason not to.

And you were looking at him now, searching his face, checking to see if he was okay.

Soap let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “Christ, you’re still whipped, huh?”

Simon didn't look away from you as he muttered, without hesitation, “I’m gonna marry her one day.”

The room went silent.

Soap’s mouth actually dropped open, Price raised a brow, and Gaz let out a low whistle.

You, on the other hand, froze mid-step, blinking at him like you weren’t sure if you’d heard him correctly. “What?”

Simon finally tore his gaze from you, rubbing a hand down his face. “Nothin’.”

Soap snorted. “Nah, nah, you can’t just say that and move on like it’s nothin’.”

Price smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “Agreed.”

You were still staring at Simon, eyes wide, lips slightly parted. And for the first time in his life, he actually considered running.

But then—

You smiled. Not a smirk, not a scoff, but a real, genuine smile.

And Simon thought, well. Maybe one day wasn’t so far away after all.

-

That night, Simon found you on the roof, sitting near the edge with your knees drawn up, arms loosely wrapped around them. He wasn’t sure why he came looking for you—maybe he just knew you’d be here, away from the noise, collecting your thoughts like you always did.

You didn’t turn as he approached, but you must’ve heard him. “Shouldn’t you be resting?”

Simon huffed, stepping closer, the gravel crunching under his boots. “Shouldn’t you?”

Finally, you glanced at him, raising a brow. “I’m not the one who got shot.”

“Fair point.” He exhaled, shifting his weight before sitting down beside you. There was a moment of silence, the kind that didn’t feel uncomfortable but wasn’t exactly easy either. He rubbed a hand over his face, then finally said, “I owe you an apology.”

You snorted. “You owe me a lot more than that.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “I do.”

He looked at you then, really looked at you—the way the dim light softened your face, the way the wind tugged at your hair. He hated how badly he had screwed this up, how much he had pushed you away when all he ever wanted was to pull you close.

“I was an ass,” he said, voice rough. “I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it.”

You were quiet for a moment, then said softly, “Handle what?”

Simon exhaled, staring out at the horizon. “How I feel about you.”

Something in your expression shifted, but you didn’t interrupt, so he kept going.

“I kept thinking you deserved better. That you wouldn’t want to deal with all the shit that comes with… me.” He swallowed, jaw tightening. “But pushing you away didn’t make me want you any less. Just made me more of a dick.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Yeah, you were.”

Simon huffed a small laugh, shaking his head. “Right. Deserved that.” He took a breath, gathering himself, then turned to face you fully. “Look, I know I’ve been shit at this. But I want to do better. If you’ll let me.”

Your lips twitched, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Is this your way of asking me out?”

He shifted slightly, uncomfortable but determined. “Yeah. It is.”

You leaned back on your hands, smirking. “Thank god. For a second, I thought you were about to propose.”

Simon groaned, dragging a hand down his face as you laughed, clearly enjoying yourself.

“You’re not gonna let that go, are you?”

“Absolutely not.”

He sighed, but there was no real frustration in it. If anything, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. Maybe longer.

“So?” he asked.

You glanced at him, lips curving. “So?”

He rolled his eyes. “Is that a yes or no?”

You let the silence stretch, just long enough to make him sweat, then finally nudged his arm. “Yeah, Simon. It’s a yes.”

And for the first time in a long time, Simon felt something settle in his chest—like maybe he didn’t have to run from this anymore.

-

A few years later...

Simon never thought he’d have something like this. A home. A life beyond missions and gunfire. But here he was, standing in the middle of a kitchen, barefoot, wearing an old T-shirt, watching you try (and fail) to flip a pancake.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered, stepping in just as the pancake half-landed on the pan, half-slumped over the side.

“I meant to do that,” you said, huffing as you grabbed a spatula and tried to salvage it.

“Sure you did.” Simon smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chest warm against your back. “Need me to take over?”

You wiggled against him just to be annoying. “Nope.”

“Right,” he muttered, lips brushing against the side of your neck as he tightened his hold. “Then I’ll just stand here. Watch the carnage.”

You sighed dramatically. “I don’t know why I married you.”

Simon chuckled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “For my charming personality, I imagine.”

“Oh, absolutely.” You rolled your eyes but didn’t pull away. “That and the fact that you proposed in the most ridiculous way possible.”

He groaned, pressing his forehead against your shoulder now. “We are not bringing that up.”

“Oh, we absolutely are.” You grinned. “Who asks someone to marry them in the middle of a stakeout?”

“We were waiting for hours. Needed to kill time.”

“I thought you were joking! And then you just pulled out a damn ring like it was the most casual thing in the world.”

Simon smirked. “And yet, you still said yes.”

You sighed, pretending to be exasperated. “Yeah, well. That was my first mistake.”

“Mmm.” He kissed the side of your neck slowly. “Don’t think you regret it much, though.”

Your breath hitched just slightly, and he knew he won this round. You let out a small laugh, tilting your head to nudge his. “No. I don’t.”

Simon smiled, tightening his hold on you for just a second longer before finally letting go. “Now, step aside before you burn down the kitchen, love.”

You groaned. “You’re so—”

“Charming? Handsome? An incredible husband?” He flipped the pancake perfectly, shooting you a smug look.

You threw a dish towel at him. “Insufferable.”

And Simon—the man who once swore he’d never let anyone close—just grinned at you, looking happier than he ever thought he’d have the right to be.

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

@daydreamerwoah @nightunite @rigbyscar @kittygonap @buggg4life @tessakate @m-artemisa-c @first-time-fanfic-writer @identity2212 @trulovekay @lostintransist @blush-haze @pedrosweetiepie

[h1biscusgal]

My journey. (Tw)

This is the longest post, please read everything if you need motivation, need some advice, and let me help you with something.

I want anyone who is doubting themselves, anyone who is trying not to give up, anyone else in the community of being blessed, to read the post whole.

I'm going to be talking about my life, and how the journey started, what I did and what I did not, bear in mind please, this was a little emotional for me to write, I feel a bit nostalgic about it all and I honestly can't believe so much went in such a time.

I found out about everything starting with a book I bought from the local fair that interested me a lot, and I swear if it weren't for the book, I would be here, I used to be the most logical bitch child ever, top grades, stressed like I'm in college already, pained mind and always pressured to be perfect, resulting in me being burnt out and already too mature for my age in mind, yet still childish in many senses, and constant fights with my parents, I felt like I was against the world.

The book was The Power of your Subconscious Mind - Dr. Joseph Murphy.

I was a kid who loved hobby reading, sort of an escape from the hell hole of the pressure I would have around me, and I adapted by this book, and it changed everything for me.

I was only 13 at that time of the book, after that I started trying it out for things and I saw results, made me happy, and I went to something I found in the corner of YouTube, called subliminals, and another part of it where it was called manifestation.

Now with subs, I found reality shifting, then came the void, then came lucid dreams and all that combined together in a hot mess.

Shifting was something so beautiful to me, The idea of a world where I could live my life was something that trapped me so much, I already imagine things a lot and use it as an escape mechanism, sounded perfect, right? And naturally, my first DR was my hero academia, just because I wanted to relive being a proper teenage.

And for subliminals? I can tell you one thing, I was extremely insecure of the person who used to be in the mirror, because all I did was to throw away my life, I studied, slept, and woke up, no friends, no one to trust, I just lost myself, and all that when I was 13-14, (tw) I hated hated hated myself and my appearance so bad, I could only pity myself for the state I used to be in.

I feel almost sad for my younger self, as I'm 18 now watching my young teen self stress through her life, cry at her appearance, even sometimes (tw) wishing to be just die in her sleep, all that because I was heavily burnt out, seeing girls my age looking prettier through puberty, talking with others and I'm stuck on a wish that felt like it won't happen, and yet, a part of me was too ashamed to feel this way, because I knew there are people worse than me, and I sympathized for them.

I think it started good, at 14 years old, I fully started subliminals and it worked for a while, especially my first results that hyped me up so much as changing the grades I mentioned on the other post, so I thought life was changing right?

It did for a year, at 15 things were going well on the outside, I started obsessing over my look, I started using subliminals even more too much for my appearance, I changed drastically, and tried to fit in, but get, none of those changes in my self were drastically from manifesting or anything, sure of course I had some small results, it was almost like I was not naturally like that, I felt fake in short, like a second skin to my real self, every night trying to shift or enter the void and whatnot, all that and finally, and I even opened a Tumblr account which safe to say, got pretty popular back in the day and honestly that was quite a mistake for me at that time.

Why? It ruined me.

I thought I could open the blog to help people with their journey as well as help myself with mine, y'know? Things got out of hand when I got a bunch of people who messaged me and ranted to me about their problems, and bless my younger heart, I used to be so touched by it and help them with it, I was like an unpaid therapist, and I never cared about my health, I just wanted to make people who had worse life than mine, get their results before even I did.

I should've told them I can't manifest for them, but that was where the shit and trust issues came from, sadly I got into the trap of (tw) "suicidal" people who claimed they'll off themselves and blame it on me if I don't enter the void for them, saying how they hate their life and everything else and how they want to change everything.

Please.

For the love of god.

I've been there like you and in worse, I stood up, I found the courage to stand up everytime I fell down, everytime, and that happened so much, almost 6 years worth of failure and never once I wanted someone to do it for me, why? Because it's your life my love, please don't think I'm rude or whatnot, I seriously I'm telling you, it's all in your hands.

And yes, of course there are people with far worse conditions and living state than mine, and I'm never blaming anyone to ask for help, but seriously.

To threaten a literal child on a simply happy pink blog telling her to enter the void for them or else? Especially one where she was a little too eager to help? Please, do it on your own as much as we all did on our own, I used to think "why don't bloggers like to manifest for others?".

I understood it after that, the emotional baggage? That was traumatizing for me.

Either way, I also had one of my followers spam follow me on my private Instagram (which I don't know how) and started (tw) a slight talk of let's say, almost grooming.

Thank God it wasn't pictures, I don't know if it is considered that, but is it alright to be told (tw) that they'd like to f#ck me or what not? I'm uncomfortable to go into more details but that was the breaking point for me, seeing almost 40 or something accounts spam messaging my requests no matter how much I block them, kept making more accounts.

I. Was. Horrified.

That's when I snapped, that was my last resort, I hated everything, I hated it all, I blocked all the current accounts, deleted my Instagram account, shut my blog off and started neglecting myself heavily and got back again into a depressing state, where I thought that's it, I'm cursed, wasn't I?

I burnt out so bad.

I genuinely believe it was the worst year of my life, even when I turned 16, everything got wrecked, the life I built and tried to maintain it fell apart, one of my friends backstabbed me so hard, I just gave up on manifesting and the void, which was something I wanted so much every night, wishing or begging anyone listening to help me, scrolling hours in Tumblr trying to find something helpful.

When I turned 17, this was my healing stage.

I may have slight tears in my eye, or I may sound dramatic, but oh god I am so glad to be here where I am now, I love myself, I seriously feel so bad and emotional for my younger self, if only, oh if only I could go back to hug her and tell her to live her teenage life, but I couldn't, I took life too seriously at that time and told myself I was cursed, only in the summer of 2024 I got back to my manifesting mindset, without Tumblr.

At 17, I started fixing myself, I gently loved myself, I started throwing the pedestal of the void away, I treated everything in front of me as a miracle, I loved myself, helped myself, took myself back on my feet and I gave myself time.

Time is something a lot of people here are annoyed by, it does not exist, so why are you bothered to give yourself some of this "nonexistent" time to heal yourself? I know some might say it's hard to love yourself, guys please.

Just love that small part of you that is still standing, that was shown the void and shifting and anything else for a reason, at 17 I started seeing results from everywhere again, I gained popularity, I built myself, I helped myself, trusted the law of assumptions, and my mindset had grown.

Now, I'm healed.

I no longer do this just to "get out of this" or "to escape everything", I do it for myself and because I know I deserve it, I don't place it up, I place it within reach like an apple waiting to be picked.

Everyone reading this, if you have come so far, do not give up, but of course.

It's your choice, no one can beg you to come back to your life, it's your choice my love.

I hope everyone in any situation my deepest and my most tender love to them, wether you're shifting, premashifting, rebuilding yourself with the void, changing everything.

Please thank yourself for staying strong and reaching here for so long, some say they've been doing this for 2 years, some say one.

I went on strong for 6, and I am glad I did, and I realized it all falls in your hands, I could've done it all by the first year, heck, even the first month, so my loves, my last piece of advice:

Love yourself, thank yourself, and ease yourself, let the apple fall, and not your hand that was straining for the apple.

Xoxo. Coco

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

Guide for manifesting weight loss:

So an Anon asked me to make this and here it is, it will help others too.

As we all know that we often struggle with achieving our weight goal,doing workout,keeping a strict diet and eating healthy etc...

All of this was created by man, a man-made creation like Times, Machines, names, studies, science and many more.

And of course this was all coming from the imagination.

But i'm here to tell you that nothing is set in stone, your beliefs/assumption are the true fact.

Don't do things that you don't want to, just for you to loss weight ,because some non loa-believe people told you to.

Do whatever you want! Cause you make the rules and you control your own reality.

And you should be grateful that you discovered loa out of BILLIONS OF PEOPLE that are living miserably, believing that they should work hard to have what they want, following society rules.

Knowing your true power:

You need to understand that you are what we call God ,an Infinite being that could do anything without limitation.

You Can be whoever you want, get anything you want and more, even manifest the most illogical things, and this all because you're a consciousness that Can decide whoever version of themselves is gonna be.

But does God need to follow the rules? Does god need to do method? Does god need to do challenge? NO!! ABSOLUTELY NOT! YOU CAN DO WHATEVER YOUR MIND TELLS YOU TO, HELL! EVEN YOU CAN CREATE YOUR OWN RULES AND METHOD.

YOU ➜ God (imagination) ➜ create your own rules and method and Can manifest anything you want into your reality.

You Can be a model, having that pretty face, being a billionaire, living in that penthouse, having a yacht, fancy car, being with your handsome/pretty SP, having that perfect body. Having superpowers, having a little fairy, having a Magic portal in your room and swimming in money and MANY MORE.

All of that with what? Without even Lifting a single little finger, everything you ever wanted already EXIST, there's many versions of yourself with your desires, and with just that pretty powerful mind of yours.

Understanding the Law:

The law of assumption indicate that whatever you assume to be true will Harden into fact with persistence.

Manifesting your desires into the physical reality just requires you to change your inner self so that the outer World will follow.

The 3d is a mirror ➜ changing your self (4d) ➜ persisting ➜ the 3d will reflect your 4d ➜ yay! You have your desires in the physical reality.

It is very simple and easy.

All of this just needs discipline and having faith in yourself and your true power as a god.

Now the important part of this post.

How to manifest weight loss while ignoring the 3d:

We do know that manifesting weight loss might seem difficult for the most of us.

While you're manifesting and there's the people that surround you Always ALWAYS complaining and pointing about your appearance, your weight and that might get you very pissed off and angry.

I am myself suffering from this, my parents Always pointing at my appearance,saying that i look fat (and that not true they are just exaggerating things, my Friends told me that i have a beautiful body but i hide it with over-sized clothes cause i'm insecure), and they force me to go workout when i don't want to (cause obviously i hate sport and socializing) and which caused a HUGE ARGUMENTS with them, and i Lost it (cause i have anger issues) but they didn't listen they told me it for my own good🙄 my ass, so i had no choice but to listen to them but i'm DONE FOLLOWING SOCIETY RULES AND BELIEFS.

So yeah i'm not listening to anybody but my personal beliefs cause i'm the only one who knows the truth, the cheat code to life.

you Can eat whatever you want and with the belief that you won't gain a single weight and it's will become a fact.

Your beliefs and assumption matters and don't listen to anybody.

Okay so now you might wonder how to manifest weight loss while interacting with the 3d every single day and it very simple:

➜ firstly choose what desired weight or body you want to manifest.

➜ secondly knows that you do already have it in imagination and creation is finished, you're already that version of yourself that is skinny or muscular.

➜ thirdly you need to keep persisting no matter what the 3d tells you cause that will make the subconscious really believes you're that desired version of yourself.

➜ and lastly dismiss the 3d, if the people surrounding you keep pointing at your appearance just ignore them and affirm in your head that you already have your desired weight or body and knows that the 3d will change.

You really need to throw Logic in the trash , Logic won't get you anywhere but imagination will.

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. Knowledge is limited. Imagination encircles the world." Albert Einstein.

"Logic will take you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere" Albert Einstein.

"You believe in God? Believe also in your imagination" Neville Goddard.

You want to have that perfect body? Yes you Can, you want to have that Chinese standard Body? Yes you Can! You want to be muscular and lean? Yeah you definitely Can.

Just pick and choose, fulfilling yourself in your imagination and accepting it as fact and the 3d will follow.

Seriously it is really simple, just don't overcomplicate it.

Just have faith and trust in yourself and you'll definitely do it.

I don't want anybody sending me Ask in my Inbox After this post.

Go apply and you'll definitely thank me for it. (Read this one)

I advice you to read these post they're really Amazing and it will surely make it click for you:

This, and this, this and this, this one, and this one, this, this, this, this,this one, and this, this last one.

And lastly you're the only one that Can change your reality, no one Can do it for you, you're already a master manifestor and void master and you're on the pedestal.

You were meant to change your life and live in happiness and wealth.

_ Xoxo, Eli

© Scentedpeachlandcreator

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐇

pairing: joel miller x webcam model!f!reader

genre: no outbreak AU, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 9k

summary: Joel, only now starting to feel the impending sense of loneliness, decides to listen to Tommy and sign up on an online streaming service called Ravish.

warnings: joel is bi in this, sex toys, paddles, nipple clamps, pillow humping, self-spanking, female/male masturbation, piv, dirty talking, possesive!joel, cum eating, oral (female receiving), size kink

additional warning: alright so there is a short moment in this where reader smacks herself with a paddle that has a heart-shaped hole and gets a heart mark on her skin, I don't use any descriptions (like calling it red or pink etc) but I'm also not oblivious enough to think everyone would get a mark when getting spanked so I wanted to let you know in case that would put you off and wouldn't want to read and that's completely fine!

a/n: this definitely ended up being longer then it needed it to be bfgbfg I want to take the anon who requested this, and the rest of you who chimed in and voted on the polls. I hope you all enjoy 💜 oh, also a special thanks to @missredherring who gave the idea of a more in-depth reason as to why Joel likes honeysuckle flowers 👀

edit!!! this has more than one part now! click here for the masterlist

Joel was lonely. 

He hadn’t really thought about it until Sarah went off to college. 

Since the day she was born, he had one thing and one thing on his mind only—to give his little girl everything that he could and make her happy. The rest didn’t concern him. He didn’t really care about dating, he didn’t have the time to think about how lonely he was. He had been on a couple of dates, all of which were initiated by Sarah as she entered her teenage years, pleading with him to go out and have a life.

But now that she was gone, studying what she always wanted to study and being happy, the emptiness began to spread like a nasty infection. Every creak and groan of the house sounded like mockery to him. He started keeping the TV open all night, most of the time falling asleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night startled by sudden shouts from a randomly playing film or show. He hated it. This wasn’t how Joel imagined his golden years to be like. 

Maybe that’s why he decided to use the damn website. Ravish. He’d heard it from Tommy first —which was an uncomfortable conversation as one could imagine— and after that, he kept on hearing the name. 

Ravish 

Ravish 

Ravish 

It was like a shitty pop song, stuck between his teeth like toffee, impossible to get rid of. The name made a home in his brain, making its presence known whenever he was doing anything, no matter how mundane the task was. 

Ultimately, he gave in. What was the worst that could happen? 

Joel groans. He stares at the screen with his brows drawn tightly together, the text cursor blinking as it waits for him to type out a username. It’s been almost ten minutes. A brief thought of asking Tommy passes through his mind but he quickly pushes the thought away and leans over the keyboard. 

JMiller. That should be alright. He doesn’t need anything fancy, and J can be any name. It can be Jack, Jacob, Jonathan, John, Jeremy. There are a bunch. Besides, Miller is a pretty common last name, so if someone asks if he's JMiller, he can just deny it. Not that anyone would. Everyone would be too busy jerking off to pretty people. The last thought anyone would have would be of him. 

He quickly decides on his password and he’s immediately overwhelmed. There are too many things happening at once. His eyes widen, heart beating a bit too fast as he moves his mouse around. In the corner, there’s a little pop-up begging for his attention, and on the screen, there are multiple thumbnails of women and men. When he drags his mouse over a thumbnail it starts moving and he jumps. 

“Holy hell,” he mutters. “I’m in way over my head.” 

Joel gets up to pour himself a glass of whiskey. After that, he sits on the couch again and takes three deep breaths. The ice clicks together as he takes a swig, the amber liquid pleasantly burning as it goes down his throat. He looks around some more, looking for the profiles that pique his interest the most. 

While he scrolls, he sees one of a man with the username NicolasCageFreak, which he finds odd, but the man is pleasing to the eye with soft brown curls and natural honey highlights in between. The man has a small bullet vibrator pressed against his hard length, a cock ring at the base of it. Joel presses like and saves it for later. 

Joel has to remind himself a couple of times that the people who stream can’t actually see him. The more he scrolls the more relaxed he feels. There’s a woman with pretty green eyes he saves for later and another man with the username CammingBravo. He has his face hidden, Joel can see the red ribbon circling the back of his head as he bends over, granting the viewers a delicious sight of his ass that has a shiny buttplug. 

Liked! Added to your queue for later.

Until now Joel was fairly certain he was straight, sometimes he’d get the occasional same-sex dream but he figured everyone did at some point in their lives. He’s not so sure anymore. 

Some more scrolling and Joel starts getting restless. His cock strains against his sweatpants, aching for his rough touch. He takes a deep breath. The next live stream he sees that he likes he’ll click and that will be that. He’s starting to get worked up and, unlike NicolasCageFreak, he’s not a fan of edging himself. 

Then he sees her. A woman wearing a delicate chain vest with rhinestones that sparkle whenever she moves. His eyes flit to the username; Honeysuckle. He loves that flower, he has many memories of picking them with Tommy and sucking the sweet nectar hidden inside. He wonders if she tastes just as sweet. 

Not one to break a promise to himself, Joel clicks on the thumbnail. His eyes are instantly drawn to the live chat. There are so many people asking her to do something all at once—Jesus Christ. There are also a couple of them just chatting as if they were friends with her. He sees that everyone calls her Honey, which is fitting and a bit on the nose, he thinks. 

Noticing that he has the stream muted, Joel unmutes it, a pleasant tingle running down his spine as soon as her voice comes through the speakers of his laptop. 

“Wow, Eric47 I’m so happy you got that promotion!” 

“Don’t worry everyone, I’ve been thinking naughty thoughts all day and I’m ready to put on a show.” 

“Patience everyone.” 

“Thank you for buying a private chat, SarahBelieves! I can’t wait to be your good girl. . .” 

Joel is too focused on her tone, the smooth lilt of her voice, to hear the words she’s saying. The only thing his ears pick up on is the words private and chat. He wasn’t aware you could buy some extra time with the streamers. He loves that—

He shakes his head. Loves? Is he already planning on paying? At the thought, his cock twitches with interest, his reserve quickly crumbling to the floor. 

Joel decides to focus on the stream first. He can decide later on if he wants a private session or not. He cups himself through the soft fabric of his sweatpants, groaning as a spike of relief shoots through him. His eyes are glued to the screen. Honey’s hard nipples poke through the chains, her hands delicately kneading the tender mounds as she rises slightly by lifting herself onto her knees. She’s on a bed, wearing black panties and a matching garter. Joel’s mouth waters. The things he would do to her. . . 

His tongue pokes from between his lips, soft tendon moving with muscle memory as he thinks of eating her sweet cunt out. 

“Today my sweet bees,” she addresses them. “I was thinking of fucking myself with the biggest dildo I’ve got, how does that sound?” 

Joel’s eyes drift to the chat. Everyone seems to be cheering and asking her to show them how much she can take. There’s also a bunch of them calling her their favorite size queen. She chuckles. 

“I love all dicks, in any shape or form,” she purrs. “I’m just in the mood for a bit of pain.” 

Pain. That captures Joel’s attention. It makes him curious about all the other things she might be into. Perhaps she enjoys getting spanked, or she would enjoy the feeling of someone dragging their nails down her pretty back. He wants to know. He wants his imaginary scenarios to be as accurate as possible. 

He’s about to pull out his cock when he hears her voice again. 

“I do have one question though,” she says innocently. “Should I keep these pretty black panties on or off?” she grins into the camera, her eyes shining with mirth. “Let’s see those answers, my bees.” 

What do you want? Joel wants to ask. But this isn’t that kind of scenario so he thinks. The answers come flying in, there’s a fifty-fifty ratio. Joel’s mind blanks for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching. He wants her to keep them on. He likes the idea of her sliding them to the side and fucking herself deep, it feels more animalistic, more raw. He enjoys the idea of claiming someone, a curiosity he hasn’t yet fully explored yet. 

He types exactly that. His wording and grammar a bit too neat compared to the rest, but he gives Honey his answer. He wants her to keep it on. Maybe play with herself some more until the fabric is basically see-through, then she can fuck herself with the biggest cock she’s got. 

Joel watches intently as her eyes go over the live chat, there are so many answers coming in, he doubts she’ll see his comment. Still, he likes to believe she’ll see it. 

Honey’s eyes still briefly, hunger swirling in them as a canine sinks into her bottom lip. Her smile is bashful and shy, much different than the character she’s playing. Her eyes move back to the camera. Joel watches her breasts as her chest heaves, nipples grazing against the cool metal. 

“Well, well, JMiller. . . you certainly have a mouth on you,” she tuts and Joel’s eyes go wide. The satisfaction he feels leads to goosebumps coursing over his burning skin, being noticed. . . it’s surprisingly thrilling. “Are you new? I haven’t seen your handle before.” 

Joel swallows, his hands shaking as he types in a quick “yea”, Honey smiles, “Welcome to the hive then, baby. Keep the comments up,” she sighs, cupping both her tits. “I love a man who knows how to dirty talk.” 

A knot forms in his throat, his skin tight. He wasn’t expecting to be this affected. Now he understands why so many people enjoy live streams. They don’t see you, not actually, but still, it almost fills the void. Almost. He’s excited now, eager to type in more of his thoughts, eager to hear her answer him. Joel pulls out his cock, the waistband of his sweats hugging his thighs. He gives himself a firm tug, his spine straightening at the burn gathering in his lower stomach. It feels fucking good. 

“Since it’s J’s first time, and because he got me all hot and bothered, why not leave the panties on for this time?” Honey says. Joel observes the chat, there are a lot of congratulatory messages addressed to him, welcoming him. He doesn’t care. “You want to see these panties soaked, huh? You guys know how much I love making a mess.” 

Honey shimmies back, revealing more of her bare legs. She spreads them for the camera, the soft sound of delicate metal filling the air whenever she moves. Her fingers start to move lazily over her clothed clit, her head falls. Joel can see a subtle dark patch growing, his own hand starting to move slowly up and down his throbbing cock. A drop of precum dribbles down, easing the glide of his rough palm. She doesn’t look at the chat as frequently as she did before, too focused on her pleasure. Her glossy lips part and her eyes scrunch up. Her moans are loud and breathy, signs that she lives alone. 

Joel doesn’t think as he fists himself. Normally when watching porn he would think; he would think of a scenario, or what he would be doing differently, or the things he would want to do. This is different. He’s just watching, inhaling what’s being given to him. He sucks a sharp breath, his hand moving faster, the side of his fist smacking against his pelvis, dark curls damp under his palm. 

“Fuck,” Honey moans, eyes peering toward the screen. Her fingers move faster, her hips grinding to meet the graze of her palm. Joel groans, his eyes rolling back into his skull. “I think I’m going to come,” he breathes out. “Should I?” 

Joel doesn’t bother with typing until he hears his alias. 

“JMiller, since you’re new the decision is yours. Should I? P-Please answer,” she sounds desperate, her hips rutting the air as she presses her fingers hard against her clit. “O-Or do you want me to come on your cock?” 

Joel’s hips stutter, filling the tightness of his fist, “Fuckin’ hell.” 

With sticky fingers he types his answer, telling her that she should come with his cock deep inside her. Joel also adds that he wants to hear her, telling her to be loud. 

“O-Okay,” she whines, almost tearful as she reaches to grab her dildo off-screen. Joel can’t help the grin that makes its way across his face. He types again, telling her not to cry and that she’ll be coming soon enough. When he presses enter, he notices that his name is highlighted in dark orange. “You’re kind of an asshole,” she answers playfully. “I like that.” 

You're the buzzing heartbeat of Honeysuckle’s live stream! You are picked by the streamer as the treasured Drone Bee, your unwavering loyalty and vibrant energy create an electrifying atmosphere. Your presence is a key ingredient in making the honey even sweeter! 

A growl echoes in his throat when Honey shows the camera the dildo she had picked out. She wasn’t kidding when she said it was her biggest. It’s bigger than his own dick, and Joel is by no means a small man. He squeezes his cock and looks down, with a sudden need growing in his chest, he purses his lips and lets a long trail of saliva drip between his lips. He shudders when it reaches the head of his cock. He swipes his palm over it and continues to stroke himself, he wants to come. 

He wants them to come at the same time. 

Honey pushes the dildo in slowly, giving her viewers a clear sight of what’s happening. The toy stretches her wide, the ache of it pulling a gasp from her pretty lips. Joel breathes heavily, his nostrils flaring as his hand speeds up. 

Oh, how he would love to be the one fucking slowly into her, to hear those little gasps coming from her in person rather than his shitty speakers. He holds his breath. It’s buried fully inside of her now. She slowly looks down, her eyes looking directly into the camera. 

“I hope the view down there is good,” she says with a smirk. Joel doesn’t type anything. He focuses on the way his cock drools for her, aches to be buried in her cunt. Honey pulls out the toy until it’s only the tip that’s inside and then shoves it all in one smooth thrust. She cries out, her voice unfiltered. Joel’s stomach jumps at the sound, his pupils dilating like a wolf seeing its prey for the first time. 

She fucks herself hard, whimpering and crying out every time she fuck herself deep. Joel sees the way the plastic surface shines with her slick, he bets she tastes fucking sweet. 

He knows she’s close when her thighs begin to shake—he also knows thanks to the live chat going completely berserk, cheering her on and telling her to squirt. Joel, despite her own release close enough that he can taste it, rolls his eyes. 

“This one is for you JMiller,” she whimpers and Joel’s eyes go wide, his cock pulsing in his wet fist. “Hope you’re gonna fall down the edge with me, big guy.”  

Joel doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until she’s coming—she does so with a loud moan, her cunt fluttering around the large cock. Her head falls back completely, giving a clear view of her heaving chest, nipples fully erect under the see-through armor. 

His fall from grace is less pretty. He lets out a grunt, his hips fucking into his hand helplessly as come spurts from the slit, it’s almost painful. His heart beats aggressively while he tries hard to keep his focus on the screen, he doesn’t want to miss anything. Joel makes a mess of himself and his surroundings, the rug underneath his socked feet stained with his release. 

 Joel’s cock stops throbbing and with a pleased sigh, his shoulders drop. 

“That felt fuckin’ goood,” he groans, staring blankly at the ongoing live stream. Vaguely he notices Honey pulling the toy out, an equally fucked out expression on her face. The live chat is still going wild, he manages to lean over and type in one last sentence before going offline. 

Good girl. 

Joel is a weak weak man. 

Watching Honey quickly became a routine for him. She would start streaming around the same time he would come back from work and it was the perfect way to let off some steam. Tommy had asked if he checked out Ravish, to which Joel promptly said no. He didn’t need his baby brother making fun of him. 

Besides, some primal part of him didn’t want Tommy to know about Honey. It’s an odd thought, he realizes, since she’s enjoyed by many many people. Still, he didn’t have an explanation for what he was feeling. 

Once she had brought in a guest, and his body had immediately rejected it. He was ready to close the stream and head to the bathroom for a quick shower—however, he stopped when he noticed who the guest was; CammingBravo. Another streamer who had caught Joel’s attention when he was scrolling through the endless amount of entertainers for the first time. He watched Honey eat out his tight little asshole, then he watched Bravo fuck her senseless, making her soak the sheets. 

Joel never came that hard in his life before— It was exhilarating. He tipped handsomely that night and Honey mentioned how JMiller was one of her best viewers. Bravo’s smile, which was surprisingly kind, was infectious. 

He would be lying if he said his chest didn’t puff up a little. 

And, of course, he ended up buying a private chat with her after that. He just had to. It would just be this one time, he told himself, just one hour without the live chat. Just him and her. 

He turns on the laptop, already knowing that he’s kidding himself. There’s no way this will be a one-time thing. He’s too. . . smitten to leave it with one private chat. 

Maybe he can limit himself to once a month. That seems reasonable. 

The familiar website of Ravish loads and he clicks on the little gray person in the corner. He finds the section that’s titled “private chats” and clicks. Her username, Honeysuckle, pops up. On the screen, it says she’ll be with him shortly. 

A minute later the screen goes black and her face comes into view. She’s wearing a pink see-through bra with strawberries on it, Honey’s smile is bright as she looks into the camera.  

“Hi there J!” she greets him, his stomach warms at the sound of her voice. “This is your first time doing a live chat right?” 

He nods absent-mindedly while typing. Honey reads his answer and gives him an empathetic look. 

“Okay, so you don’t have to show your face—obviously—but if you want you can click the tiny microphone in the corner and talk to me directly. But if that’s also too much you can continue to type what you want me to do.” 

Joel’s eyebrows raise. Talk to her. . . with his actual voice? The thought both excites and sends cold fear down his spine. What would he even say? What if she doesn’t like the sound of his voice? 

“Are you there?” her voice comes through. “Is everything alright?” 

His fingers tense and rigid, Joel types in the questions that swirl in his head. Luckily the questions sound cheeky without any tone indicators so Honey smiles, her eyes narrowing while her lips curl seductively. 

“You can say anything you want, big boy,” she licks her lips. “And don’t worry about your voice, I’m yours for the hour. You might as well have the most shrill voice in the world, I would still tell you how sexy you sound.” 

You always call me that. Why?  . . .  Also, it doesn’t make me feel any better when you say you’ll tell me how good I sound regardless but I get what you mean. 

Joel aggressively chews the smooth inside of his cheek. Honey reads his messages, a grin stretching across her beautiful face, “Let’s just say streamer’s intuition,” she winks. “As for the other thing, I mean that you don’t need to worry. I doubt you have the most shrill voice in the world.”  she thinks over her words before adding. “Of course, it’s up to you. If you don’t want to use voice chat that’s completely fine.” 

 Joel sighs, his curser hovering over the tiny microphone. Closing his eyes, he clicks. 

“Can—Can you hear me?” 

Her eyes sparkle. 

“Crystal clear,” she answers with a wide smile. “You sound hot.” 

She sounds genuinely impressed. Joel can’t help but chuckle with the shake of his head. “Don’t sound so surprised but thanks, I think?” 

“Oh it’s definitely a compliment,” she says rolling her tongue. “Is there anything you want me to call you or should I just call you J?” 

There’s a brief moment where he thinks of just telling her his name but he bites his tongue at the very last moment. His heart does a little jump when he answers, “You can call me. . . sir.” 

“Understood, sir,” she repeats, her voice dripping with lust. A shudder crawls up his spine and he has to brace himself by holding his knees. “There is also a matter of safewords, I don’t do everything as I’m sure you don’t as well. Red is for stop, yellow is for slow down and green is for go. I think that’s the simplest one but if you want to use a different word I’m okay with that.” 

Joel blinks before answering, “Uh, yeah sounds good.” 

“Also the website doesn’t allow screen recordings—which I appreciate— so you can’t film these sessions in any way. I’m just letting you know because no one reads the terms of service and one client was very unhappy when he got a cease and desist.”

“I. . . okay, I wouldn’t even think of it.” 

She smiles and Joel’s heart feels a bit lighter, “Good,” with the rules established, a sense of relaxation washed over both of them. “So, do you have anything planned for me?” 

Joel clears his throat as a warning and her eyes glimmer with amusement. 

“Sorry,” she breathes heavily. “Did you have anything planned for me, sir?” 

“Would you laugh if I said no?” 

“Sir, I would never laugh at you,” she pouts, brows turning upward. Momentarily she looks off screen and when her eyes find the lens again she smiles giddily.  “Would you want me to show you the toys I think you’ll like?” 

Joel smiles at how genuinely excited she sounds, it’s hard to remind himself that this is all an act and that this is her job. He wants this to be real. He wants her to actually be excited to show him all the things she wants him to use. 

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he answers not missing the way her lips part with a soft gasp. “Show me what you got.” 

Honey shows him a handful of her toys. She has a lot. Dildos of various sizes, vibrators, nipple clamps, kegel balls, anal plugs, anal beads, floggers, collars, paddles. . . she might as well have an entire sex shop in her room. Joel takes mental notes of all of them to use during their next sessions.  

“Anything that you like, sir?” 

“The paddle,” he murmurs, feeling a bit flustered now that they’re actually getting into it. “The one with the heart-shaped hole and. . . the nipple clamps—” 

“The heart-shaped ones?” 

Joel swallows thickly, “Y—Yeah.” 

“No need to be shy, sir,” she grins. “It’s only you and me.” Honey picks out the toys Joel requested and raises an eyebrow while her gaze searches the pile. “So, no dildos? Or vibrators?” 

“I . . . had somethin’ else in mind, if that’s alright.” 

“Ohhhh, a mystery,” she purrs, winking into the camera. “I love it, sir.” 

Honey is slow to rid herself of her bra, sliding one arm out and then the other before moving both hands to the back to unclasp herself free of the dainty fabric. Her chest nears the camera, giving him a full view of her fully erect nipples. Joel’s breathing grows heavier by the second. He can feel his cock stiffen, pleasure stirring in his gut. He quickly kicks off his shorts, leaving himself bare on the couch as he watches her secure the clamps over each nipple. She lets out a tiny sigh of bliss, pulling her arms back and planting her palms firmly against the mattress, she shows her newly decorated nipples. 

Joel groans and wraps his hand around his cock. She does a little wiggle, the soft sound of bells making his cock twitch. 

“Are you touching yourself, sir?” 

“Yea.” 

“Good, I want to hear you get off,” she quickly adds. “Sir.” 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, sweet thing,” his eyes flutter closed as his fist moves down, and he opens them back up after giving himself a firm squeeze. “Turn around,” he grunts. “And don’t forget the paddle.” 

She does as she’s told, which in return gives Joel an immense sense of control and satisfaction. Precome drips down his length, he uses it to lube himself further, paying extra attention to be loud for her. Just like she wanted. 

His eyes follow the movement of the paddle, she drags it over the right cheek of her ass, caressing her skin. Her panties disappear between the crease of her gorgeous ass, leaving little to the imagination. “Is this okay, sir?” she asks, her voice thick. “Am I being a good girl?” 

Goosebumps rise over his skin. He’d called her, wrote to her, good girl after every stream—his smirk is laced with something dark when he realizes that she must’ve enjoyed it. 

“You’re being very good,” he answers. “Now hit yourself with it, I want to see a heart tattooed on that pretty flesh of yours.” 

“Southern man into branding, why am I not surprised?” she purrs and lifts her ass closer the camera. “You like seeing your pretty girl all marked up by her owner?” 

Fuck. 

“Don’t get full of yourself,” he orders, adding a bit more venomous tone to his voice. Honey stills, and briefly Joel worries he’d overstep. He stops breathing, not wanting to miss even the smallest hint of the safeword. 

But then she shudders, hitting herself lightly with the paddle. “How’s this, sir?” she says, her lilt indicating that she’s highly aware it isn’t enough. 

“Harder.” 

She spanks herself harder, her body jolting. Joel can hear the bells. He circles the head of his cock with the pad of his thumb, groaning as he makes himself more comfortable on the couch. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t think you’re listenin’,” he inhales slowly, enjoying the way her muscles tense. “I want to see those hearts on your skin. I thought this was supposed to be a show.” 

“Y-Yes, sir.” 

He loves how breathy her voice has gotten. Heat licks the base of his spine, his cock begging for release. 

She raises the paddle, smacking her plump meat much harder than before. Her asscheek ripples and Joel can finally see a faint trace of a shape. But it’s not clear enough to be a decent heart. “Again,” he orders. 

It takes about six to nine times before the heart takes shape on her skin. She’s whimpering, tremors moving up and down her body as she fights the urge to collapse. She loves seeing his mark there, she might’ve placed herself, but it was his doing and he revels in it. 

“Good,” he says, swallowing thickly. “Good fuckin’ girl. Lookin’ so pretty for me.” 

“S-Sir,” she mutters. Joel doesn’t know what to expect until her hand comes between her legs, sliding the thin line of her panties to the side. Her cunt is a sopping mess. Joel leans further towards the screen, his tongue licking the roof of his mouth. “Do you see how wet I am? P-Please, I want to come—Can I, sir?” 

“Fuck, ‘course you can,” his neck feels warm, burning almost. “Turn around, grab one of them pillows behind you.” 

“P-Pillow?” 

She sounds dazed, Joel almost feels bad for her, almost. “Yes sweetheart, pillow,” he coos. “I want you to grind that pretty cunt against it. . . honey.” 

“Shit, say that again.” 

“Honey,” he groans again, his hips thrusting into the air, burying himself deep into his fist. His voice drops further as he begins to chant, “Honey, honey, honey, honey—” 

She visibly clenches at that, her entire body tight with arousal. With shaky hands, she brings the pillow between her thighs, straddling the soft cushion. Her head falls back as she gives it an experimental roll of her hips, Joel’s breath catches in his throat. She looks delectable. Her hands come up to her chest and tugs at the clamps, she jumps, a wanton moan echoing from the back of her throat. 

“You’re so worked up aren’t you?” Joel continues as she grinds herself further down, leaving a wet, darkened patch behind. He’s preaching to the choir. His own arousal drooling over his knuckles. He closes his eyes, allowing his mouth to roam free. “Stuff three fingers in your mouth, want you to choke darlin’.” 

With a whine, she nods and pushes three fingers between her lips. Joel smirks, “It ain’t nearly enough but at least you can get a feelin’ of how much my cock would stretch those pretty lips, honey,” he rasps. She shudders, her hips moving wildly over the pillow. “You love havin’ your mouth full don’t you?” 

“Yesh, sur,” she moans around her own fingers, she move acutely, and with every jerk of her hips, Joel can see her throbbing clit. He’s teetering on the edge of his release, heat pools between his legs, his balls go tight. 

“I’m gonna come, honey,” he groans, his tight shaking. “Come with me, show me how wet your get that pillow.” 

With a hint of mischief in her eyes, she loudly gulps around her fingers, giving Joel a clear few of her cunt before rolling her hips down against the smooth surface. His eyes go wide and before his brain can register the coil snapping, he spills over his hand. Heavy strings of come dripping down his hard throbbing length. He makes a choked sound as he tries to breathe in and out at the same time. Honey pulls out her fingers from her mouth and grins, her hands drop in front of her and she bounces up and down, mimicking the way she would ride him. 

The action manages to squeeze one last rope of come from him, his lungs collapse, his body burning. She comes right after, her thighs squeezing around each side of the pillow before gushing around it. Joel can see the shine as she continues to grind her hips. 

“Show me,” he pants, his next words quickly shifting into a growl. “Show it to me.” 

Licking her lips, Honey pulls the pillow from between her legs and shows it to him. His cock twitches with interest. “Wanna taste you,” he says without thinking. 

“Sadly technology hasn’t improved that much yet,” she answers. “But I’ll tell you this much,” she leans in and flattens her tongue against the soaked fabric. Joel’s jaw tightens, his molars digging together painfully. She moans. “I taste sweet. Like honey.” 

You hate visiting home. 

You hate the heat, the crowd, staying at a home where you’re still treated like a child when you haven’t been one for a long long time. But you didn't really have a choice when your dad hurt his leg, which meant that you had to help around with the tiny bookshop your family owned. It was a miracle that it was still standing, but people did love their old, dusty bookshops. You had to admit, you enjoyed the aura of the place.

Your mom had asked you to bring over two coffees before coming in, she opened up shop early which you were grateful for. Now that you were home, you didn’t have the luxury to do as many private calls as you wanted to. You still streamed late at night, keeping silent, your audience didn’t mind. They thoroughly enjoyed the whispering and the “we can’t be caught” act. You only indulged in one private session, a session that you couldn’t bare letting go of. 

JMiller. 

You thought a lot about what his real name might be. Jacob, Jeff, Jeremy. . . none of them felt right. It was disappointing because you wanted to scream his name when you had your hand between your legs. But since you couldn’t decide on a name, you whimpered a string of sirs over and over again. 

You eagerly counted down the hours until you could finally spend time with him. This was a funny thought on its own because you boasted about how professional you were. You kept things clear, not allowing for any miscommunication or—potentially—feelings. But there was just something about him that got your entire body yearning to hear his southern drawl. Maybe it was the nostalgia of it all. You did grow up in Austin after all. But still. It was odd how excited you got before going online. 

You briefly mentioned you were going back home, you didn’t tell him where, obviously, but you did tell him that there could be scheduling issues. He understood. 

Of course he did, he was perfect. 

Pulling yourself away from your thoughts, you impatiently drum your foot against the clean marble floors. This line is insane. You let out a groan, sending your mother a quick text that it might take you a while. A second later your phone buzzes with a thumbs-up emoji from her. You sigh again as you shove the phone down your back pocket, you hate waiting, it gets you anxious and even though you don’t have a boss that will yell at you, you don’t enjoy being late. 

Then, as if he popped out of the concrete like a weed, a man pushes himself between you and the other person that was waiting in line in front of you. 

Your heart races, your eyebrows knitting together, no way in hell are you going to allow someone to cut in line. 

“Hey,” you call out. The man ignores you and you tap his shoulder, he turns sharply, his eyes glaring daggers. “You can’t cut in line,” you say defensively. “You need to move to the back of the line.” 

“Look lady I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about I was always here.” 

“Ummmm, no you weren’t,” your chest heaves, heat rising to your cheeks. You don’t like confrontation—you’d do it, but you’d hate it. Your legs are already shaking slightly. “I’ve been staring at the pink paint stain on that guy’s shoulder for about half an hour so I know what I’m talking about.” 

He rolls his eyes, an ugly snarl taking shape, “Just leave it. I ain’t gonna budge. I have places to be.” 

“And the rest of us don’t?” you snort, eyebrows raised. He shrugs, makes a face, and turns his back to you once again. It takes you everything not to stomp your foot like an angry bull. 

You’ve had enough. You’re tired of the assholes of the word, you don’t care if you’re not allowed into the coffee shop ever again. Puffing up your chest, you open your mouth wide, ready to give this rude stranger a piece of your unfiltered mind.��

“You know what—” 

“Is that any way to treat a lady, moonshine?”  

You turn towards the source of the voice. It’s a man you’ve never seen before. He’s rugged looking, the salt and pepper in his beard endearing. He has a deep crease between his brows, his brown eyes dark as he stares down at the rude stranger. You take in the sight of his broad shoulders, thick neck—your heart does a little flip. You don’t know why but you’re drawn to the man, he has a nice voice. 

The man, however, isn’t as pleased as you. 

“What’s it to you? She your girlfriend?” 

You’re not but you kinda wish you were. 

“Get in the back of the line, I saw you cut in front of her.” 

The tension in the air is thick enough that you can cut it with a knife. You hold your breath, your lungs starting to burn as electricity crackles between the two men. Finally the asshole caves and sighs, going to the back of the line. You let out the breath you’ve been holding, your shoulders sagging with relief right after. 

“Thank you,” you say, your gaze finding the kind strangers. “I was right about to blow my lid before you stepped in.” 

He doesn’t answer and just continues to stare at you. Worry builds in your spine. Why isn’t he saying anything? His softened gaze flits across your face, taking in every detail before looking away. He pushes his hands down his pockets, looking almost boyish with the way he drops his gaze to the floor. 

“Don’t mention it,” he mutters. 

You raise an eyebrow. His voice still sounds familiar. Your curiosity getting the better of you, you shove the thoughts of familiarity into the back of your head and grace him with a wide smile. He blushes profusely, eyes slightly going wide, he takes a sharp inhale. 

“How about I pay for your coffee. . . or whatever you’re buying?” you ask. 

“You don’t have—” 

“I insist!” you chirp, glad that the line is finally moving. You extend your hand with enthusiasm, which he accepts a bit tentatively. Your smile never wavering, you tell him your name and an emotion akin to guilt washes over his eyes. He releases your hand, lips a tight, frigid line. “Is something wrong?” you ask. “You don’t like the name?” 

“N–No, it ain’t that,” he shifts from one leg to the other. You nearly look down, curious to see how tightly his jeans hug his muscular thighs. “I’m. . . Joel.” 

The world around you falls into a complete silence. Joel. Joel. Something electric and searing shoots up your spine, your lashes fluttering. Your heart starts beating a mile a minute but you’re not sure why. The only thing you do know is that this is a significant moment. An important moment. 

Your rake your brain for answers. 

Why? 

Why is it important? What piece are you missing to complete the puzzle? 

His lips break into a soft smile, he gestures towards the counter with his head. “We’re up.” 

“O-Oh, yeah,” you swallow, barely able to pull your gaze away from him. “Sorry.” 

You tell the kind barista your order and she writes it down on both your cups happily. The two of you move away from the line to wait for your drinks; a black coffee for your mom, a caramel macchiato for you, and an iced quad espresso for Joel. You raise an eyebrow. 

“I have a long day comin’,” he says with a small smile. “And I didn’t do much sleepin’ last night.” 

Your mind immediately flashes you memories of last night. Legs spread wide with two dildos stretching you, JMiller really enjoys it when you test your limits. Your pulse pounding in your skull, you look down. “Don’t I know it.” 

“You had a late night too?” there’s a teasing lilt to his tone. Your stomach churns and you sink your teeth into your bottom lip. It looks like he’s about to say something else but the barista calls your name and both of you head towards the counter. He takes his death juice with a grateful smile, his demeanor more relaxed compared to when you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, honey. I appreciate it.” 

Oh shit. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

It is him. 

JMiller—J stands for Joel. 

Fuck. 

“You. . .” you begin, panic raising in your voice. “You’re. . .” 

He nods, “I think we both know why I didn’t sleep much last night,” he extends his hand again. “Huge fan by the way. You’re great and this is awkward as hell.” 

“It is,” you whisper. Still, you take his hand. “It is.” 

“You’ve never had someone come up to you on the street before?” he asks, curious. “I would assume you get recognized a lot.” 

“Not as much as you would think,” a cruel, humorless burst of laughter drops from your lips. “People don’t exactly want their partners to know they’re watching me. But if they’re alone yeah. . . sometimes they’ll say hi.” 

Or they’ll ask inappropriate questions and be weird about it but he doesn’t have to know that. 

Now that he’s mentioned you bumping into others, you’re not sure why it felt like the end of the world before. You feel embarrassed, flustered even, two emotions that a client shouldn’t be making you feel. 

“Well,” he breaks the silence, moving his jaw as he opens the door for you. “Thanks for the coffee.” 

“Technically you bought it.” 

“Right. . .” 

The two of you are out in the street now, staring at each other, contemplating what to say. He scratches the back of his head, then his fingers move to rub at his jaw. Arousal gathers between your thighs, it’s not your fault, now that you know that it’s him, your body acts accordingly. 

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” 

You still for a moment before answering, “Yeah.” 

He turns and leaves, you do the same, only in the opposite direction. 

After learning your name, Joel completely abandoned his rule of you calling him 'sir', making you moan his actual name as frequently as he could. His name stuck to your tongue. It might as well have been tattooed under your bottom lip. He was possessive in the way he asked, in some instances even begging for you to say it—and you fucking loved it. You loved this sick claim he had towards you now that you two had officially met. You loved how much more eager he was to see you make a sticky mess between your thighs. You love how cock dumb he made you feel without actually being there to fuck you himself. 

He even started doing his version of online aftercare. Mostly he would just talk, tell you about every-day things as you came down from your high. Or he would murmur a song. You never asked if he was a musician, he had a nice voice. 

It’s the beginning of the session and you’re getting ready. He says he enjoys watching the preparation you do for him so you decided to start streaming five minutes earlier, allowing him to watch. You really need him today. You had a rough day with an order mix-up, and your mom isn’t the best at dealing with mishaps. He clears his throat, which draws your attention to him. 

“Is something wrong?” you ask. 

“No no, everythin’ is fine, sweetheart. I just. . .” he sighs. “I want to ask somethin’.” 

“Ask away.” 

“Can we—Would you want to—” he groans in frustration and you start grinning. His frustrated pout is adorable. All you want to do is smooth the crease between his brows with your thumb and give him a kiss. 

“Joel Miller,” you tease, not missing the way his breath catches in your throat. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

Oh god, you hope your intuition is right. If it isn’t this call is about to get really awkward. 

He flushes, eyes dropping as he nods. 

“Is that okay?” 

This is highly unprofessional, “More than okay. I’d love to go on a date with you.” 

His grin is infectious. 

“Good,” he lets out a breath then settles back against the couch. “Now show me those pretty tits, honey.” 

You can’t believe you’re actually in JMiller’s, aka Joel’s, home. 

The date had gone better than you expected. He was kind, charming, and chivalrous which were all qualities you haven’t seen for a while. Ever since you started streaming you hadn’t been on many dates and frankly, after a while, you purposefully avoided them. It just felt like asking for drama that you had no intention of dealing with. But Joel wasn’t like that. He could be blunt, a bit grumpy, yet also kind. He had taken you to one of his favorite pubs. Beers accompanied by the best jalapeno poppers you ever had equated to one of the finest dates you’ve ever had. 

He was a contractor, had a daughter in college, and a younger brother. His mother and father had passed a long time ago and ever since Sarah left, he’d been feeling lonely. He’d admitted shyly that that was the reason why he signed up on Ravish. He wanted company. 

You found it incredibly charming. 

As soon as Joel closes the door behind you two, you fall into each other’s arms. He kisses you with fervor, tongue slipping between your lips as he breathes you in at the same time. You feel him everywhere. Large hands squeezing your hips, waist, breasts—it’s intoxicating. You moan wantonly into his mouth, your lids falling when he sucks your tongue into his mouth. He tastes like beer and you’re pretty sure you do too. 

Joel pushes you up against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs while you continue to chase his lips with an insatiable need. You can’t bear to be separated from him, not even for a second. He drags his lips down your neck, mouthing at your jugular, sharp teeth nipping the sensitive flesh. Your hips jerk to meet his and with a growl, he pins you back to the wall. 

“Don’t,” he grunts. “I’ve been waitin’ so long for this honey, so fuckin’ long.” 

Your lips curl, a challenge lingering in your eyes, “Show me then, big boy. Show me how bad you want to fuck your slut.” 

“Fuck,” he hisses, gripping your chin harshly and pulling you in for another kiss. Your teeth clink together, he pulls back just as quick, the muscle in his jaw twitches. “Fuck,” he breathes out again. “You have quite the mouth on you, darlin’.” 

You have no recollection of how the two of you clamored upstairs, stripping one another in a lustful haze. The time you realize you’re naked is when you feel the cool air of the room caressing your burning skin, he leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses down between your breasts, fingers eagerly working your nipples as he forces you to walk back until your back of your knees hit the bed and you fall. 

Not wanting to give in so easily, you wrap your fingers around his heavy cock. It juts angrily between his legs, answering your touch by drooling all over your palm, slickening your movements. You jerk him until he’s fully hard, his breathing heavy as he rolls his hips to meet the tightness of your fist. He sinks his teeth into your neck, the pain that blossoms coaxes a moan from you, your own wetness growing between your legs. 

“I knew you’d be fucking big,” you whisper, tongue toying with his earlobe. “So huge—makes me wonder if I can take it. . .” 

“I’ve seen you take bigger,” he groans, hips stuttering. A whimper drops from your lips, you want him, you want to feel him inside, want to feel his come dripping out later. You feel thick fingers spreading your soaked folds, he drags down a middle finger between them, licking himself into your mouth as he draws circles around your aching clit. “So wet for me,” he rasps. “Gonna make a mess in you, honey.” 

You gasp, “P-Please.” 

He lines himself against your entrance, teasing you, stretching you subtly with the bulbous head of his cock. Your head falls back and your back arches into him. He draws a hard nipple between his lips, closing them as he sucks. Heat rushes all over your body, arousal thick on your tongue. You clutch the sheets. He smiles as he pushes in, filling you inch by inch with a lax jaw and a dazed gaze. 

He stops and waits for you to adjust to him. Joel’s forehead drops against yours, dampness growing between the skin. You feel his breath fanning your face, so warm. There’s a hint of pain, the type that makes you flutter around him. He feels it too. The way you tighten against him, your body begging for more. He obliges. Pushing further and further until his hips are flushed against yours. His jaw is clenched tight, his breathing heavy. 

“Fuck you feel so good,” he presses fleeting kisses all over your face. It’s ticklish and if all your senses wasn’t narrowed in between your legs, you would’ve giggled. 

Your body jerks as he pulls back, the pleasure you feel is instant and overwhelming. You’ve missed the feeling of actual flesh inside of you. Joel snaps his hips forward, locking your breath in your throat, with a moment of desperation you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. He fucks you in earnest. Every thrust desperate. Every thrust needy. He seems lost in you, whimpers, groans and grunts trembling in his throat and chest. You spread your legs wider, wanting more of him, wanting your cunt to take the shape of his cock. 

“Harder—” you cry out. “Take it—Take what you want—” 

Your arms fall limp, his body moving up and towering over yours. Joel grips your thighs tight before lifting them, he jackhammers into you, tugging and pulling at you like a brand new fucktoy. He splits you in half. The force of his movements making you scream. You don’t miss the way he grins wildly, dangerously. Something dark and haunting washing over his face. 

Your eyes grow wide, your heart beating in your throat, making it hard to swallow. It happens all at once, you clench around him, arousal pouring between your legs in a way it never had before. The look, the cock, the man behind it all—everything combined pushing your mind into the deep stages of want and need. Your eyes roll back, your hands coming up to pinch your tight, tingling nipples. You sob his name, your voice hoarse as you beg him for more and more and more—

“W-Wait, darlin’ if you squeeze me like that I’ll—!” 

A series of curses drops wildly and unintelligently from his lips. You feel him. The heat of his seed filling you to the brim, his cock throbs and twitches, spurting into you again and again. Your lips break into a satisfied smile. Instinctively, Joel pushes deeper, shoving your combined slick even deeper. 

“Shit,” he says catching his breath. “I-I’m so fuckin’ sorry. I usually last. . . longer than that. I—” 

You shush him and cup his cheek. You’re so pliant right now, floating happily in the air. You let out a sigh before willing your lips to move. Has talking always been this taxing? 

“It’s okay Joel,” you slur your words, smiling lazily. “I take it as a compliment, that felt fucking good.” 

“Yeah?” he sounds so innocent and hopeful that you can’t suppress your giggle. His eyes twinkle under the dimmed light. “Well, I’m glad you felt good, sweetheart but I’m not done yet.” 

Your breath hitches when he pulls out, your brows furrow as a chill settles between your legs. You wanted him to stay inside longer. But you’re pleasantly surprised when he slides down your body, kissing every patch of skin before settling between your legs. 

“Let’s see if you’re as sweet as you’ve been tellin’ me.” 

He kisses your cunt, lips moving in tandem with your wet folds. He drags his tongue up between them, curling it as he takes himself into his mouth, tasting both of you at one. You go limp at the pressure of his tongue, your walls fluttering and squeezing for more. With a groan, he shoves his fingers, the wet sound makes your toes curl into the mattress. It’s like torture, a very pleasurable torture. You gasp when he pulls you flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your clit as he licks you clean. 

Your build up is spontaneous. You feel it coming, the taste of your orgasm at the tip of your tongue. Joel curls his fingers, sucking your clit between his lips and gently nipping at it. You hips chases his mouth, his mustache chafing the tender skin. Your hands come to each side of his head, threading your trembling fingers through the soft locks, his fingers brush against an especially sensitive spot and you tug at his hair. His throat shakes with a groan. His eyes closing. 

“Do it again,” he mutters. And you do. He starts moaning into your cunt, his hips, despite just spilling inside of you, rutting against the bed. Your nails bite into his scalp and he flicks his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. 

The tension coiling in you finally snaps, your entire body locking up as you gush into his mouth. He gulps you down loudly, fingers still moving deep inside you. Your throat is dry as ou shout his name, hips stuttering helplessly, he pins you down with both hands, moving his head up and down as the fat strokes of his tongue becomes more wild. 

When he’s finally done feasting, he pulls away with a wet mouth. 

“Wow,” you murmur, curling into him when he lays beside you. “That was. . . wow.” 

“You really had low expectations, huh?” 

“Not low,” you grin. “But not that high either.” 

“Well,” he says, guiding you so you’ll lay on his chest. “I’m glad to prove you wrong.” 

You smile, heart fluttering. 

“Me too.” 

[the-oblivious-writer]

With Her I Die |13|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Thirteen: Cave Sweet Cave

warnings: depictions of grief and trauma, references to death, suicidal ideation/self-destructive behavior, hallucinations/mental health struggles, references to starvation/food scarcity, mentions of blood, and mild profanity.

note(s): j.t coming.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson @serendippindots

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The cave smells like wet earth and animal musk—not entirely unpleasant, but not the Yankee Candle scent of the year either. You've gotten used to it over the weeks, just like you've gotten used to the constant dripping from somewhere deep in the darkness, the way your voice echoes when you talk to yourself. And you talk to yourself a lot these days.

Except it's not really talking to yourself when someone answers back.

"That rabbit is overcooked," Jackie says, perched on a rock formation that juts from the cave wall like a natural throne. Her skin is pristine—no blue tinge, no frost, no evidence of the death that claimed her. She looks the way she did before everything went to hell, perfect and untouchable. "You're going to get, like, food poisoning or whatever."

"Can't get food poisoning from overcooked meat," you mutter, rotating the small carcass on your makeshift spit. "That's not how it works."

"Oh, look who's suddenly the CDC," Jackie quips, crossing her legs. She's wearing the outfit she died in, which seems like a weird choice for a ghost, but you've learned not to question the logic of hallucinations. "Seriously though, it's literally turning to charcoal."

You sigh, pulling the rabbit from the fire. It is, in fact, blackened beyond recognition. "Fuck."

"Told you."

"Yeah, well, Gordon Ramsay you're not." You tear into the burnt meat anyway, hunger overriding any concern for flavor. It's been three days since you caught anything, and the winter berries you've been scavenging have left your stomach growling more often than not.

Jackie watches you eat with that bemused expression she always wore when she thought you were being difficult just to spite her. "I don't know why you insist on staying out here. It's not like it's helping."

"It is helping," you argue through a mouthful of charred protein. "No one's looking at me like I'm about to go full Cobain anymore. No one's walking on eggshells around me. No one's trying to fix me."

"No one's around you at all," Jackie points out, unhelpfully.

"Exactly." You toss a bone into the small pile accumulating in the corner of your temporary home. "Peace and fucking quiet."

Jackie makes that little huffing sound that always meant she was gearing up for an argument. "Except for me."

"Except for you," you concede, unable to stop the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Lucky me."

The nightmares still come, but they're different now. Less vivid, more fragmented. You no longer wake up screaming, convinced your hands are covered in Jackie's blood, her flesh caught beneath your fingernails. Instead, the dreams dissolve as soon as you open your eyes, leaving only a lingering sense of unease, a metallic taste in your mouth.

"You talked in your sleep again," Jackie informs you as you blink awake, the weak morning light filtering through the cave entrance. She's lying beside you on the nest of pine boughs and salvaged clothing you've fashioned into a bed, her head propped on one hand, studying you with unnerving intensity.

"What did I say?" You stretch, wincing at the stiffness in your back. The ground never gets more comfortable, no matter how long you sleep on it.

"The usual charming stuff. 'I hate you.' 'Why did you leave me?' 'I should have been the one to die.'" Jackie ticks each item off on her fingers, her tone conversational, as if reciting a grocery list. "Oh, and my personal favorite: 'I'm going to eat your heart.'"

You groan, covering your face with your hands. "Jesus."

"I mean, it's a little over the top, but I appreciate the passion." Jackie's voice softens, and you feel the ghost of a touch on your shoulder—a sensation your brain manufactures, you know, but it feels real enough to make your breath catch. "You know it wasn't your fault, right?"

"Can we not do this this morning?" You sit up, shrugging off the imaginary touch. "I'd rather just... I don't know, pretend we're normal teenagers doing normal teenager shit."

Jackie raises an eyebrow. "Like what? Giving each other makeovers? Gossiping about boys?"

"God, you're so straight," you mutter, reaching for your boots.

"Says the girl who's clearly in love with my ex-best friend."

You freeze, one boot half-laced. "What?"

"Oh, come on." Jackie rolls her eyes dramatically. "You and Shauna? The longing glances? The way she's been taking care of you since I died? It's like watching a really depressing rom-com."

"That's not—we're not—" You sputter, feeling heat rise to your face. "She's pregnant with Jeff's baby, for fuck's sake."

"And?" Jackie shrugs. "People can have complicated feelings."

"She was your best friend."

"Was being the operative word." Jackie gestures to herself. "Dead now, remember? Kind of releases all parties from prior obligations."

You finish lacing your boots with more aggression than necessary. "I don't need relationship advice from my dead girlfriend, thanks."

"Ex-girlfriend," Jackie corrects primly. "Death is technically a breakup. I'm pretty sure that's in the fine print somewhere."

Despite yourself, you laugh—a rusty sound that echoes off the cave walls. "You're such a bitch sometimes."

"Part of my charm." Jackie flashes that smile that always made your knees weak, the one that lights up her entire face and creates that dimple in her left cheek. "Seriously though, how long are you planning to stay out here? Another week? Month? Until the rescue teams finally show up?"

The question sobers you immediately. Rescue. Such a distant concept now, almost abstract. Sometimes you forget there's a world beyond this wilderness, that once you had a life that didn't revolve around basic survival and crushing grief.

"I don't know," you admit, your voice small in the vastness of the cave. "I'm not ready to go back yet."

"Because of the nightmares?" Jackie asks, her tone gentler now. "Or because of Shauna?"

"Both. Neither." You stand, brushing dirt from your pants. "It's just... easier out here. Simpler."

"Bullshit," Jackie says flatly. "You're hiding."

"So what if I am?" You snap, suddenly defensive. "I'm allowed to take some time. I'm allowed to fucking grieve."

"It's been weeks, hon." Jackie's voice echoes strangely, as if coming from further away, though she hasn't moved from her spot on your bed. "And you're not grieving. You're punishing yourself."

"Same difference," you mutter, grabbing your makeshift spear from where it leans against the wall. "I'm going to check the traps."

Jackie sighs, a sound so familiar it makes your chest ache. "You can't keep avoiding this conversation."

"Watch me," you toss over your shoulder as you head for the cave entrance, ignoring the fact that you're arguing with a figment of your own imagination. That's what Jackie is—a hallucination, a manifestation of your guilt and grief. Nothing more.

But as you step into the cold morning air, you swear you can hear her voice following you: "You can't hide forever. Not even from yourself."

The traps are empty again. Not surprising—game has been scarce lately, the animals either hibernating or migrated to more hospitable territory. You should probably do the same, head back to the cabin where there's at least the promise of shared food, shared warmth. Shared misery, too, but that's the cost of communion these days.

Instead, you find yourself drawn toward the edge of the clearing where the others have made their home. You've done this every few days since you left, keeping tabs on them from a distance, assuring yourself they're still there, still alive. Still waiting, though they don't know it.

You stay hidden among the trees, watching the morning routine unfold. Tai emerges first, as always, vigilant and purposeful even in mundane tasks like gathering firewood. Van follows, her gait still slightly uneven from her injuries. They move around each other with the easy familiarity of people who've learned to anticipate one another's needs, who've found comfort in shared space.

"Couple goals," Jackie comments from beside you, making you jump. You hadn't realized your hallucination had followed you from the cave. "Though honestly, the whole 'mauled by wolves' thing is a bit much for a meet-cute."

"Jesus, you scared me," you hiss, then feel immediately ridiculous for being startled by your own imagination.

"Sorry, not sorry." Jackie leans against a tree, her form slightly translucent in the daylight, like an underexposed photograph. "Oh look, there's your girl."

Shauna emerges from the cabin, bundled against the cold, her pregnancy now unmistakable even beneath layers of clothing. She moves more slowly than the others, one hand resting on the swell of her belly, the other clutching something you can't quite make out from this distance.

"She's not my girl," you mutter automatically.

"She could be," Jackie says, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "If you'd stop being such a coward."

You bristle at the accusation. "It's not that simple."

"It never is." Jackie's gaze follows Shauna as she makes her way to the edge of the clearing, where a small stack of rocks marks a makeshift memorial. Your memorial, you realize with a jolt. They think you're dead.

Well, most of them do. You've seen Lottie leaving offerings at the forest's edge—food, small trinkets, once even a crudely fashioned doll that looked disturbingly like you. You've taken the food, left the rest. Some superstitions are better left untested, especially out here where the line between reality and nightmare feels increasingly permeable.

Shauna kneels awkwardly beside the stone marker, placing what you can now see is a small bunch of winter flowers on top. Her lips move in what might be prayer, though you've never known Shauna to be religious. Then again, trauma changes people. Death changes them more.

"She goes there every morning," Jackie says softly. "Rain or shine. Hasn't missed a day."

Something twists in your chest—guilt, longing, a complicated tangle of emotions you don't have names for. "I didn't ask her to do that."

"She's not doing it for you, dumbass." Jackie rolls her eyes. "She's doing it for herself. Grief rituals are for the living."

"Now you're a therapist?" You scoff, but your eyes remain fixed on Shauna, on the gentle way she arranges the flowers, the careful touch of her fingers against the stones.

"I read a lot of Cosmo," Jackie shrugs. "Same difference."

You watch in silence as Shauna finishes her ritual, as she pushes herself to her feet with visible effort. Something about the way she moves—the heaviness in her steps, the slump of her shoulders—makes your throat tighten.

"She's not okay," you murmur, more to yourself than to Jackie.

"None of you are okay," Jackie points out. "You're all traumatized teenagers trapped in the wilderness, surrounded by death and darkness and whatever weird shit Lottie's been sensing. 'Okay' isn't exactly on the menu."

"That's not what I mean." You frown, studying Shauna more carefully. "She looks... defeated. Like she's given up."

"Hmm, I wonder why," Jackie's voice drips with sarcasm. "Could it be because she lost her best friend, then lost you, is carrying a baby in the middle of nowhere, and oh yeah, thinks you might have been eaten by wolves or bears or whatever the fuck is out there?"

"They found your jacket," you remind her, finally tearing your gaze away from Shauna to look at Jackie. "That's why they think I'm dead. They found your bloody jacket and assumed..."

"Assumed you'd been 'wilderness victim number whatever'?" Jackie completes the thought. "Yeah, well, assumptions are a bitch. Kind of like letting people think you're dead when you're actually just having an extended pity party in a cave five miles away."

The words sting, as they're meant to. "It's not a pity party."

"No? Then what is it? Seriously, what's your endgame here?" Jackie steps closer, her imaginary presence somehow managing to feel confrontational. "How long are you planning to play dead?"

"I don't know!" The words burst out of you louder than intended, and you glance anxiously toward the clearing. No one seems to have heard. "I don't know," you repeat, quieter this time. "I just... I needed to get away. From the nightmares, from the whispers, from that fucking look in everyone's eyes."

"What look?"

"Like they're waiting for the next person to break. Like they're wondering who it's going to be—Shauna with her grief, Travis with his guilt, Nat with her rage. Me with my..." you trail off, unsure how to name the darkness that's been growing inside you since Jackie's death.

"Your what?" Jackie presses, her voice soft but insistent.

"My hunger," you finally say, the word feeling strange and shameful on your tongue. "This... emptiness that nothing seems to fill. Not food, not sleep, not fucking, not fighting. Nothing."

Jackie is quiet for a long moment, studying you with an expression you can't quite read. Finally, she sighs. "So you think the solution is to isolate yourself? To just... what, slowly starve to death in a cave while hallucinating conversations with your dead girlfriend?"

Put like that, it does sound rather pathetic. "I'm not starving to death."

"Your ribs say otherwise, babe." Jackie gestures to your body, and you realize with a start that you haven't really looked at yourself in weeks. Your clothes hang looser than before, your cheekbones more pronounced when you touch them.

"I'm fine," you insist, but the protest sounds hollow even to your own ears.

"You're dying," Jackie says bluntly. "Slower than I did, maybe, but just as surely. And for what? Because you feel guilty about our fight? Because you can't handle feeling something for Shauna? Because you think you deserve to suffer?"

"All of the above?" You attempt a smile, but it feels more like a grimace.

Jackie makes that exasperated sound again, the one that always made you want to kiss her just to shut her up. "You're being ridiculous. And selfish."

"Selfish?" The accusation ignites a flare of anger in your chest. "How the fuck am I being selfish?"

"They're grieving you," Jackie says, gesturing toward the cabin where the others have gathered around the morning fire. "They're going through all the same pain and guilt and anger you felt when I died, except they don't even get the closure of a body. And meanwhile, you're alive and well—well, alive anyway—playing fucking wilderness survival because you're too scared to face your feelings."

"That's not fair," you protest weakly.

"Fair?" Jackie laughs, the sound echoing strangely through the trees. "Was it fair when I froze to death? Was it fair when that plane crashed? None of this is fair, but at least have the decency to let the people who love you know you're not dead."

The word 'love' hits you like a physical blow. Love. Such a simple word for such a complicated emotion, especially out here where survival has blurred all normal boundaries, where relationships form and fracture under the constant pressure of fear and hunger and desperation.

"I don't know how to go back," you admit quietly, your eyes drawn again to Shauna, who's now sitting by the fire, her expression distant, her hand absently stroking her belly. "What do I even say? 'Sorry for disappearing, I've been living in a cave talking to my dead girlfriend's ghost for weeks'? They'll think I've lost my mind."

"Honey, you've lost your mind," Jackie says with unexpected gentleness. "But so has everyone else out here. It's practically a prerequisite for survival at this point."

You can't help but laugh at that—a short, broken sound that feels foreign in your throat. "Great pep talk."

"I'm serious. You think Lottie's all there with her visions and rituals? You think Shauna's in a healthy mental state, carrying that baby while mourning two people she loves? You think any of this is normal?" Jackie gestures widely at the wilderness around you. "We're way past normal. We crossed that line the moment the plane went down."

She's right, of course. You've all been changed by this place, transformed in ways both subtle and profound. The people you were before the crash—privileged suburban teenagers with college aspirations and petty dramas—those people might as well be dead. What remains is something harder, stranger, shaped by hunger and fear and the constant proximity of death.

"So what do I do?" you ask, hating the vulnerability in your voice but unable to disguise it. "Just walk back into camp like nothing happened?"

"No," Jackie says simply. "You walk back in and face whatever happens next. The relief, the anger, the questions. You deal with Shauna and whatever's happening between you two. You rejoin the fucking land of the living."

"While still talking to the dead," you point out wryly.

Jackie shrugs, a familiar gesture that makes your heart ache. "I'm a delight. They should be so lucky."

The casual arrogance is so perfectly Jackie that you can't help smiling, even as tears prick at the corners of your eyes. "I miss you," you whisper. "The real you, not just... whatever my brain is doing to cope."

"I know." Jackie's form seems to flicker slightly, like a candle in a draft. "But I'm not coming back. You need to start dealing with that."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder," she says, but there's no bite to the words. "And maybe start by, I don't know, not slowly dying in a cave?"

You look toward the cabin again, where life continues without you. Natalie's cleaning her rifle, meticulous as always. Travis is splitting wood, each swing of the axe precise and controlled. Mari stands at the edge of the clearing, staring into the forest with an expression you can't decipher from this distance. And Shauna... Shauna just sits, still and watchful, her eyes fixed on something no one else can see.

"Tomorrow," you decide suddenly. "I'll go back tomorrow."

Jackie raises an eyebrow. "Why not today?"

You gesture down at yourself—dirty, thin, wild-haired. "Because I want a chance to clean up first. Maybe catch something decent to bring back as a peace offering. I can't just show up empty-handed after all this time."

"Always making them wait," Jackie sighs, but she's smiling slightly. "Fine. Tomorrow. But if you chicken out, I swear I'll haunt you even harder."

"Is that possible?"

"Try me and find out." Jackie's smile turns mischievous. "I know all your weak spots, remember? I can make your afterlife very uncomfortable."

The threat, delivered in that flirtatious tone she always used when she was teasing you, makes you laugh despite everything. "Fine. Tomorrow. I promise."

"Good." Jackie looks satisfied, her form growing more transparent as the sun climbs higher in the sky. "Now let's go see if we can catch something that you won't burn to a crisp this time."

As you follow your hallucination back into the forest, you cast one last glance over your shoulder at the cabin, at the life you've been avoiding. Tomorrow, you think. Tomorrow you'll face whatever waits for you there—the grief, the questions, the complicated tangle of feelings you've been running from.

Tomorrow you'll stop hiding from the living and start leaving the dead where they belong—in memory, not in constant conversation. Tomorrow you'll face Shauna and whatever exists between you two, nascent and unnamed but undeniably present.

Tomorrow. But for today, you let yourself have one more day of avoidance, one more day of talking to ghosts, one more day of being dead before you have to face the complications of being alive again.

[esmedelacroix]

01 - Details

synopsis ! he’s an American football player by day and a passionate mathematician by night. She’s a well-rounded historian and writer who couldn’t evaluate a derivative to save her life. They lived in two different worlds but shared the same study room.

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cw ! no use of y/n, y/n is _____, fluff, slow burn, college au, ooc sukuna, f!reader, child abuse/neglect, alcohol abuse, suggestive

fic radio ! Crybaby by SZA

Ohio State University, Autumn of Senior Year

To say that you didn't change would be an understatement. You felt too much guilt when you got to school. So at college, you were the same straight-A, (seemingly)perfect girl. You were the complete opposite of the people in your friend group. Then again, Shoko and Satoru were business majors; what were they doing in class anyway?

Suguru was the only one who shared your struggles to an extent as a philosophy major. Even so, he didn't care about his grades as much as you did yours. During your entire college experience, you didn't go to a single party. It was always extra studying for you. But you weren't a complete troglodyte. You went out to eat with your friends—occasionally.

They also had a habit of breaking into your dorm and closing your books and laptop, forcing the hangouts. You couldn't risk that happening because you were preparing to wow your professors with your knowledge as an Ancient History and Classics major. Being your extra self, you also double majored in English and already wanted to get a head start on your writing assignments.

You went where you knew they couldn't find you. The library at the least popular end of campus was where all the try-hards, like yourself, studied. The library was busy, of course, and there was one more study room left, so you signed your name in the time slot and snagged the last room. You had documents strewn on the table with your laptop open, playing the classical piece you needed to analyze on repeat.

After about 30 minutes of complete peace and productivity. You turned your head towards the clear glass of the study room to see a scary man standing at the door. Just staring. At you.

That man was Ryomen Sukuna. The charismatic campus heartthrob and stereotypical quarterback of the football. He was also the school's resident airhead along with his partner in crime, Toji Fushiguro. You had heard rumors about the numerous women seen leaving his room and the alleged Eiffel Towers he partook in with Toji. It didn't help that he was in the same frat as Satoru. The sole reason why you never visited him and Suguru. But what the hell was he doing here?

You look around warily before getting up and opening the door. “Um . . . Can I help you?” you questioned.

“Let’s share this room.”

“I have it signed out for this time though. I wrote my name on the sign-up sheet,” you reasoned.

“Doesn’t matter. The librarians like me so they won’t mind and I see you’re not using your whiteboard. ‘S all I need,” he sighed rubbing the back of his neck tiredly.

“Okay,” you hesitatantly agreed, stepping aside for him to walk in.

You stayed silent as you felt him tower over you. He barely squeezed past the small space you left him to enter. The smell he left was a combination of musk, oud, cedar, and amber. He smelled like a warm home with a cozy fire crackling. As much as you hated to admit it, just like every other girl on earth, you were weak for Ryomen Sukuna. The way his pecs and muscular back poked out of his shirt like mountains emerging from the fog had you aching for him in a way that made you feel ashamed.

His light pink tufts of hair looked so soft and his jaw oh so sharp. You could see a plethora of tattoos adorning his arms. Your eyes followed them as they led into his shirt. Part of you wondered just how much of his body was tatted.

If you squinted you could see his abs peek through the semi-tight fabric of his white t-shirt. He was so much taller and bigger than you. You felt dominated and you hadn’t even exchanged many words.

You watched the muscles in his forearms flex as he uncapped your pink marker, which sat on the table along with your other colorful markers he helped himself to without asking. He jotted down numerous math problems you didn't know existed.

You then realized that you hadn't moved from where you stood before because you were staring. Pulling yourself from his trance, you closed that door and took your seat. You'd occasionally look up from the fifteen-page essay you were writing and see that Sukuna had written the most complicated math problem you had ever seen in small-print, neat handwriting. The way he handled and solved the problem was so organized you almost felt like you almost understood the numeric hieroglyphics on the board.

You looked down at your hand written notes and annotation-riddled documents. Your fatal flaw was your illegible handwriting. It was practically jibberish to everyone but you.

After twenty minutes, Sukuna finished his problem that practically covered the whole board and took a brain break sitting across from you. "What's with the music?" he asked.

"I'm analyzing it for a class. Not a fan?" you replied, eyes still glued to your laptop as you typed.

"No, I like Hymn to Vena. It's one of Gustav Holst's best pieces," he admitted.

"You know classical music?" you questioned in shock finally looking up at him. You met his piercing wine-colored eyes.

"Well I'm not completely braindead yet," he shrugged.

"I didn't know you were so historically seasoned and . . . mathematically inclined," you admitted, gesturing towards the solved complex equation on the board.

"Ah, that's nothing. I'm actually in your Intro to Classical Music class so I’m doing the same paper.”

"Wait. Really?"

"Yeah, I just sit in the back and you sit in the front," he smirked.

"First of all, there is nothing wrong with sitting in the front. Secondly, I had no idea you were in my class. I'm the worst," you smiled apologetically.

"You're good. I can't write for shit so I haven't even started the paper," Sukuna admitted leaning back in his chair and resting his large hands behind his head.

"It's due next week, Sukuna!" you exclaimed in disbelief. He noted the way your nose wrinkled when you cringed. And the way you looked away when you tried not to laugh at his jokes.

"It's no biggie. I'll just pay a writing tutor to do it for me," he said, getting up and grabbing a teal EXPO marker from your pencil pouch. This guy is too comfortable.

"I'm a writing tutor. In fact, I am the head of the writing center tutoring program," you revealed with an unimpressed look.

"Well, then you just made my life a whole lot easier. Can you write my essay about Pas de Deux for me?" he questioned.

"No, Sukuna, I'm not writing your essay for you. You didn't even say please. I could tutor you, but that's about it," you offered.

"C'mon let's work something out here," he bargained.

"What could you possibly have to offer me?" you quite condescendingly challenged.

"Well, I know that the only class you're not the top in is our Advanced Multi-variable Calculus class," he smugly stated.

"And how would you know that smarty-pants?” you retorted. Our? He's in that class too?

"'Cause I am, you ding-dong," he chuckled. Ryomen Sukuna is at the top of our math class? I thought people were lying when they said he was a math major!

"Okay so you want us to tutor each other?" you questioned.

"I was thinking more of a 'do each other's work' arrangement," Sukuna reasoned, he had a stupid smirk plastered on his stupid perfect lips. He quirked one of his beautiful perfect brows. It had a scar across it that you found very attractive for whatever reason. He's totally putting the moves on me, you thought.

"No."

"Okay, how about I teach you the math, you write my essay?"

"No."

"Okay . . . You just write my essay and I do your math work and get you into the Pi Kappa Alpha[fraternity name] parties? Final offer," he proposed.

"I think you're mistaken, Sukuna. I do not go to parties. I do not break the academic integrity rules put in place by the university, and I would much rather continue getting 70s on my math tests than ever get my work done by someone else," you snapped. He didn't want to admit it, but he was impressed by your ability to talk back to him. He had never been told off like that.

"Oh, fine. We can tutor each other," he sighed rolling his eyes.

"Good," you smiled. He shook his head in disbelief and wrote down an even more complex problem on the board and began solving it occasionally grumbling under his breath when the two of you met eyes. He wasn't actually annoyed. In fact, he was intrigued. He had waited this long to interact with you and now he didn't want to stop.

"You're a real piece of work _____," he teased, as the time slot for the room finally ran out.

"Am I Sukuna? Or am I just the first woman to say no to you?" you quipped.

He smiled and shrugged, "Somethin' like that." You hated to admit it but, he had a really cute smile. His resting face made him look like he could kill everything in sight. His smile softened his facial features. It wasn't that fake cocky smile he put on to seem hot or be a tease. It was a real genuine smile. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks. Ugh, why do I need to be like all the other girls that pine for him?

The two of you left the room after packing all your stuff. You gave Sukuna your number and email on a sticky note. "Text me when you want to study again. Sorry about my handwriting by the way," you apologized sheepishly.

"What do you mean? I can read it just fine," he questioned.

Wow, he might be the only one on the planet, you thought as the two of you left the library side by side.

"You don't need to lie, Sukuna," you joked.

"Just Ryo is fine," he corrected.

"Okay Ryomen," you smiled.

He rolled his eyes playfully at you saying his full name instead. Internally he knew: he liked the way you disobeyed him. He found the way you smiled to yourself trying not to laugh after making a joke cute.

It was all in the details. The way you sat in the front of the class every day with a notebook out. The way you impressively scribbled notes while still looking at the board.

He memorized the way you chewed on your pen and bounced your leg whenever you did an exam. The way you always participated. Staying after to help the professor clean up. Going to office hours. You were friendly and bantering with all your teachers. But somehow in an effortless charismatic way and not a ‘pick me’ way.

You didn't know, but he stared holes into your back in every single class. He was amused just staring at your back. Though he knew you wouldn't be there he looked for you in the large sea of people in the stadium. He watched you succeed and rise to the challenge. Listening in on your musical analysis in class he was mesmerized. He just wanted to wander through your mind. Maybe then he could be just as great as you.

In his short interaction with you, he made a realization. You weren't the preppy, bubbly, sweet girl he made you up to be in his mind. You were kind of a bitch. In the hottest way possible. That made you all the better. He needed more and more of you.

. . .

-> next part

@minasuniverse @not-a-glad-gladiator @love-me-satoru @sukunawhores @emoedgylord @domainofmarie @sadrna @lazylunarlover @tamishadawn @boudoirbae @river-vixenn @bitchyfestivalbouquet @elizabeth-von-winken-universe @clp-84 @emochosoluvr @yoongithebean @linaaeatsfamilies @magalimachete @chubbydumplingbarnes @katsukiseyebrows

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[vampiriito]

Summer was my first love (JJ Maybank x shy! kook! reader)

A/N: Hi loves! this is my first fic and i just wanna let you know that I'm open to any criticism, but i want you to be able to nice at the same time. This is inspired by my favorite author on here the lovely @featherandferns, her fic daylight was so good and i read all the parts in less than 2 hours. With that being said the plot is completely different but i recommend checking out her works too because she's very talented! this might be a bit long, i wanted to write a slow-burn. Let me know if i managed to do that (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Summary: After getting locked into a closet with a kook girl, JJ Maybank comes to the realization that his animosity towards the spoilt people living on Figure Eight doesn't have to apply to every single one of them.

"Fuck! Seriously?" JJ Maybank's blue eyes meet yours through the frame of your glasses as he sneers at the door which was now shut. Leaving you both stuck together in this small cramped closet. If you weren't panicked cause of the claustrophobic tendencies of your stupid brain, you definitely were now.

You were alone with your 3rd grade crush, and he had no idea, you were a kook, (which he hated,) and one hell of a wallflower person. You've been watching him from a far since you were 9, and it got a little weirder once you could walk around freely and just... take pictures with your camera as your hobby flourished. You were now, glancing shyly between the door and his face, 'he's probably feeling weird being stuck in here with a complete stranger.' you thought to your self, making sure to stick to your corner of the closet.

"What’s your name?" He demanded, his arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the wall, his eyes flicking over you, studying you. Of course, he would ask that right away, JJ could be direct and kind of an ass most days. And he felt like if he wasn't gonna ask, you weren't gonna speak up first.

Of course he didn't know your name, he wasn't bordering on creepy stalker most days like you were in your free time. Across these years you managed to gather a lot on JJ surprisingly, being quiet and so reserved got you very far, going almost invisible when you went out. It didn't help you were a shutterbug, always taking pictures and people watching, "Y/n.." you responded softly and weakly, adjusting your glasses.

He raised an eyebrow, studying your face for a moment. That name sounded familiar, he could swear he'd heard it before somewhere, the only question was where.

"You're a kook, huh? I should have known." He grumbles, running a hand through his messy dirty blonde hair. You looked so.... soft, and it somehow made him scoff. He hated your kind more often than not, and here he was, stuck in a closet with one.

You nodded, frowning gently. You were aware of his hate and animosity towards the people living on figure 8, but you weren't exactly the picture perfect image of a snarky preppy kook girl. Or so you liked to think anyway.. He looked even more beautiful up close, more defined than what you usually saw through your camera lenses when photographing him. 'Suddenly i feel like a creep being here..' you thought, playing with the hem of your baggy sweater.

His eyes flicked down to your hands as you fidgeted with your sweater, his lips curling up into a subtle smirk. 'How can someone be so shy?' he thought to himself, wondering why you were so nervous.

"You look like you've never talked to a human before." He comments, letting out a soft scoff, and you flinch gently, your eyes snapping up to meet his. He noticed this and his smirk grew a little wider, enjoying that he was able to fluster you.

That's the most JJ thing he could say to someone like you. "i.. well, i don't talk usually." you face palmed internally at the way your words came out. You had the chance to come off as something you weren't given he didn't know you, and you weren't doing a very good job at it. You could've faked being confident and charm him, yet here you were talking like you never had anything to eat in your life.

He lets out a soft scoff as he watches you stumble over your words. There was something he found so weird about you, you were so… different from everyone he encountered on a daily basis. You were shy, quiet, and awkward, not like the sarcastic and arrogant persona that most kooks had. But, he tried to shake the thoughts away, he didn't need to be thinking about you this way, of all people.

"I can tell.." he responds, his accent ringing through slightly as his smirk turned into a slight frown.

There was an awkward silence that fell over the two of you in the cramped closet, the music that played throughout the party muffled by the thick walls. JJ glanced around for a moment, almost bored before his gaze settled back on you. His blue eyes studying you intently, trying to figure you out. The frown on his face remained, 'Why are you so shy?' he thought to himself, biting his tongue before he continued.

"What are you even doing here anyway? You don't seem like the type to be at a party.."

'Got dragged against my will by my very loud and obnoxious best friend here...' you thought to your self, the thought amusing you but of course not letting that mirror on your expression, "I'm sorry?" 'what? dumbass..' you scolded your self mentally. The question was loud and clear.

He raised an eyebrow as he looked you up and down for a moment, wondering if you always spoke in a quiet and awkward way, or if it was just because you were in a small, dark, and very cramped closet with a stranger.

"You heard me. I doubt you'd normally come to a party like this." He repeated, his frown returning to a small smirk as he pushed off the wall to take a hesitant step towards you.

Again, such a JJ thing to say. Your stomach jumped as he took a small step towards you, suppressing the urge to shift awkwardly. All you needed now was to look more awkward than you already were, you acted and sounded like a pathetic dumbass, in front of your childhood crush nonetheless. "i just ended up here.."

He took a few more steps until he stood a few feet away from you. He was towering over you, his 6’1 height compared to your, what he could only guess, 5.2 or 5.3 height. He had to admit, in some weird way, it was amusing being able to fluster you so easily. That was until he noticed there was nowhere really for you to go. The walls of the small closet caged you in, he was blocking your way out of the closet, unless you tried to push him out of the way.

He was quiet for a moment, just studying you as a small smirk returned to his face.

"There's nowhere for you to go.." he teased, taking another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you even more. He noticed you shiver gently and took note of it.

"Are you usually this weird with strangers?" you found yourself asking, surprising even yourself after the words left your mouth. 'caging me in like this wouldn't create a good first impression... he's just lucky I've been in love with him since i was 9.' you thought.

This time it was his turn to be surprised. He was definitely not expecting you to say something so blunt, you were full of surprises. He chuckled softly, taking another small step forward, effectively caging you against the wall. His smirk grew into a wide smile, his eyes studying you intently as he spoke.

"Only when I get stuck in a small crowded closet with them." He was now only a few inches away from you, his eyes studying your face. He was so close, you could take in some of his scent, which somehow matched perfectly with his personality. A mix of weed and the smell of the ocean and sunscreen. You could also now see little details in his face, like his freckled cheeks, and his jawline that looked hard enough to cut glass.

Being able to smell him was a pleasant feeling as weird as that sounded, his scent matching with the way he was completely. The small freckles scattered over his soft skin made you want to be able to take mental photographs. He looked breathtaking up close, even in the dim light of the closet. Like he was some kind of modern day demigod or some bullshit. You hummed gently, turning your body towards the door to try the door weakly, your hand wrapping around the door handle and shaking it with little to no force to actually get it open.

He chuckled at the sad attempt you made of trying to open the door, "It ain't going to open, believe me, I've already tried that." He said, his voice almost a murmur as he leaned against one of the walls of the closet, watching you struggle with the door. His eyes slowly traveled down from your face, down to your hips and to your beat up vans. Strange, he thought. He'd expect someone of your social status to have more expensive looking threads and shoes. Not like a librarian on vacation.

You side glanced up at him, adjusting your glasses. You felt absolutely wrecked, nerves and claustrophobia tugging at your sensitive stomach, it didn't help this closet was dimly lit and smelled like mold. 'What a great setting to interact in for the first time..' you thought bitterly, leaning your back against the wall opposite him.

He kept his eyes on your hips, letting his gaze rake over your body. He felt a weird and small pang of sympathy for you. You looked so small against the wall, and you looked like you were ready to jump out of your skin any moment now. It was different than when he usually had the unfortunate chance of speaking with a kook kid.

"Are you scared of small spaces or somethin' ?" He asked, his voice softer than usual as he spoke.

You nodded mutely in response, your expression probably resembling that of a deer in front of a truck. Sometimes you forgot JJ's voice carried a southern drawl to it, given he never spoke to you. You would hear him when he'd pass you in the school halls while talking to his friends animatedly or when he'd say something snarky in class to the teacher, his voice never directed towards you.

When you nodded, he mentally groaned. That was his luck. He ended up being stuck in here with a kook that was also terrified of small spaces. He let out a sigh, he would have to try and find a way to calm you down, since he was now stuck in this closet with you until whenever someone decided to let them out.

"How in the hell did you even manage to get yourself into a situation like this..?" He questioned, running a hand through his messy blonde hair.

You were asking yourself that question too, but i guess being so easy to push around wasn't really helping your case here. Truth was you were just a collateral victim of a prank which was meant for JJ, getting pushed into the small closet by mistake or just to make it worse for him by locking him up with a complete stranger.

You shook your head shrugging, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. You knew you had to say something, actual words at one point but your mind came up blank. Or your mouth wasn't able to say them out loud.

He let out another soft scoff, knowing deep down this was no accident. Some of his pogue buddies probably set this up just to screw around with him. Although, you didn't seem to know that. You looked genuinely clueless.

"My friends probably did this on purpose..."

He muttered, leaning against the opposite wall to you. He wasn't happy about this situation, especially not being locked in here with a girl for what could be hours. Which he would usually be elated about. But seeing you barely talked or moved, seemingly scared of loud sounds and sudden movements like a small animal, he was aware you weren't gonna makeout any time soon.

He looked you over again, his eyes roaming over your small and fidgety figure. In some weird way, he kind of felt bad for you. You looked so nervous and uncomfortable being stuffed in this dumb closet, and you looked like you didn't belong at this party in the first place.

"What were you even doing here anyway?... this ain't exactly a place a shy girl like you would go on your own free will..." he echoed the question once again, the curiosity and desire to fill the silence stronger than the fact that you were strangers.

"That's because it wasn't my own free will.." you spoke up in minutes of being almost completely silent, your voice small and weak.

He was both surprised and not surprised at your answer. He was surprised that you answered so quickly, but he could have guessed this wasn't your idea.

"Let me guess... one of your loud and obnoxious friends dragged you out here to try and get you to 'have fun'?"

Bingo! You nodded silently again, your eyes darting around his face taking in every detail, hopefully being able to recall every single one of them to draw or paint later.

He grumbled something under his breath. He knew it. From his experience, kooks were always so loud and overbearing. It was what he hated most about them, and yet, you didn't seem like that kind of girl at all... you were quiet and soft spoken, something he hadn't seen in a kook girl since... well, never really. "Figures.. can you not say no to them or somethin’ ?"

You stared at him silently, blinking as you raked your brain for what to say, your eyes narrowed just a hint. You were aware he usually spoke a lot but not this much. Or you were too quiet. You were also way too nervous to speak or think properly, having your lifetime crush speaking to you, like actually.

He was watching you intently, taking note of the expressions that flashed on your face as you tried to come up with an answer. You were obviously nervous, he didn't need to be a mind reader to know that. And there was something else about you... something he couldn't place his finger on. It was weird.

"You look like you're gonna pass out or something..." He commented, watching you closely.

You shook your head 'no', reaching to try the door again. You suddenly didn't feel so lucky you got this rare chance to speak and admire JJ shamelessly given you were stuck in a closet together. You were anxious and feeling like he could see right through you, see all the weird tendencies you had and judge you for being so pathetically in love with him for so long.

He chuckled softly as you tried to open the door, again and again. It honestly reminded him of a small animal trapped in a cage, frantically looking for a way out. Something about the way you were acting amused him. "There ain't no point trying to open it again, trust me, it's stuck good..."

JJ could tell you were anxious, and it was easy to guess why. It was probably terrifying being stuck in a small, dark, cramped closet with him of all people. And judging by how quiet and shy you were, this was probably one of the hardest social interactions you ever had.

"Jesus... can you even speak a full sentence?" He piped up after another few seconds of silence, his smirk returning to his face as he watched you struggle against the door.

You looked to the side, a small frown making its way on your face at his question. 'Not when you're so close to me that i can smell the sea salt water in your hair.' you groaned internally, still silent. You kept your eyes locked with his in the almost dark closet, scolding yourself for not being able to handle social interactions like normal people.

JJ's smirk widened at your expression, you looked like a kicked puppy, it was almost cute. He stood up straight, lazily pushing himself off the wall and slowly making his way towards you. When he was a few steps away from you, he stopped, looking you up and down with a hint of mockery.

"You're a real quiet thing, ain't ya?"

With a few more confident steps, he was now standing just in front of you, leaning his shoulder against the wall. He looked down at you again, his smirk still present on his face. You could almost feel the heat radiating off his body, him being so close. His ocean like scent mixed with the weed smell, filling the closet and making it even harder to breathe than it already was in here.

"You afraid of me or somethin'? "

"No.." your voice rung out without missing a beat this time, a soft and gentle sound as you frowned to your self. You were probably one of the few people who wasn't afraid of JJ. Years of following him from a distance and watching him closely took away the fear factor. If anything he'd probably be afraid of you.

JJ let out a quiet scoff at your answer, an odd response. He had expected you to be as afraid of him given the way you were acting. You were clearly nervous being in a small, dark, and cramped space with a man, yet you weren't afraid of him or his presence.

"You're an odd one then.." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, taking in your small, timid figure.

He was a few inches away from you, towering over your small frame. Being this close to you, he could see more details in your face. How your eyes were framed with small dark eyelashes behind your glasses, how your skin was unnaturally smooth and soft looking, and how your lips looked almost velvety, almost as if they were made of silk. In addition to that, your scent filled his nose now, mixing with his own and the smell of the closet. You actually smelled very good... which definitely wasn't something weird to be thinking. JJ found himself lost in thought the more he looked at you. You looked so... tender and yet the way you were acting, so nervous and small, you looked like a spooked stray dog. It didn't add up in his head, you were probably the first kook girl he had ever met that acted this way, it was making him curious. Just as he opened his mouth to ask something, a loud banging noise echoed from the other side of the door, making you jump slightly, surprised by the sudden sound.

The whole silent staring contest you both had going on was interrupted by a loud sound from the other side of the closet door, almost startling you to death given you were so focused on how beautiful JJ's eyes looked while he studied you intently. You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut for a second, adjusting your glasses and grimacing to yourself.

The sudden sound made JJ roll his eyes, whoever was on the other side of the door was clearly trying to be annoying.

"Oh come on..."

he grumbled, annoyed already by the person who was trying to interrupt. Before he could say anything else, the banging continued once again, this time twice as loud as before, making him grumble another curse underneath his breath. He was beyond annoyed now, a small scowl forming on his face at the constant knocking. He turned around, staring at the small closet door, his hands on his hips as he waited for the knocking again. He was about to say something, but just then, the door was suddenly swung open, making him nearly jump out of his skin.

He let out a surprised noise as he stumbled forward, nearly collapsing to the ground, but he managed to catch himself just at the last moment by grabbing the nearest thing which happened to be the closet wall, next to your head. His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, he was breathing heavily, the unexpected event nearly giving him a heart attack. After a few moments he slowly looked up, turning his head to see who had opened the door.

To say he looked surprised would be an understatement. Standing in front of him was none other than one of his pogue buddies, John B, who was smiling and laughing like this was the most fun he had in forever as he looked down at JJ. JJ quickly managed to regain his composure, standing up straight before speaking up:

"Are you tryin' to give me a damn heart attack, John B?"

You were just as startled as JJ was, for a second time in less than 2 minutes nonetheless. Your gaze shifted from looking up at JJ's side profile to the boy standing in the door way of the closet. John B, JJ's best friend since forever, someone you also saw on a daily basis while doing your... usual checking up on JJ. John B also probably didn't know who you were, and you wouldn't be surprised even in the slightest.

John B looked between you and JJ, a smirk slowly forming on his face as his eyes landed on the proximity between the two of them. John B leaned against the door frame, his arms folded over his chest as he spoke up, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Seems like you got yourself into a situation, huh JJ?"

JJ's eyes narrowed at his best friends tone, he immediately knew what he was implying. He shot him a small glare before speaking up, a hint of annoyance in his voice

"Can it, John B... it ain't what it looks like."

John B chuckled at his response, he clearly didn't believe JJ given the awkward and somewhat embarrassing situation the two of you were in. "It sure looks like it though. Locked up in a closet together, all alone. You two got up to anything in here?"

Your eyes darted between the 2 best friends, adjusting your glasses as your gaze landed on John B, his teasing words making your face heat up. The implication of getting up to anything with JJ was enough to probably give 9 year old you a aneurysm, "Excuse me?" you spoke up, trying to sound irritated at his words although you sounded so weak and shy you regretted speaking instantly.

John B chuckled again at your response, clearly enjoying making you both uncomfortable. The way you spoke was so quiet and awkward, it was almost laughable. JJ continued to glare at him, trying to non-verbally tell his friend to shut his damn mouth, but it obviously wasn't working.

"Oh... I see, there's a voice under there, huh? You sound like a damn mouse, girl.. can you speak louder than a whisper?"

He continued to smirk at you, now mocking the softness of your voice. JJ grimaced at what John B had just told you, a pang of guilt suddenly shooting through his chest. He didn't like the way John B was talking to you, in fact, he was getting a little mad that he was being so rude.

"She ain't gotta speak louder. Leave her alone." JJ spoke up, glaring at his friend once again, finding himself defending this stranger.

You looked down, scowling to yourself at his question, now definitely not speaking another word for the rest of the conversation, knowing you'd just slip away once they were distracted. Your finger pushed the frame of your glasses up and down, your eyes fixed on your beat up sneakers. This was certainly one hell of a first impression.

John B held his hands up in mock surrender, clearly enjoying the fact that he was getting both you and JJ annoyed. "Relax man, I was just messing with the poor mouse."

He joked, his eyes still on you, now watching your fiddling. JJ just scowled at him again, silently debating punching his friend square in the nose. The fact that he was making fun of you was bothering him more than it should. He was used to his friend making stupid jokes and being a dick, but he couldn't stand the thought of him mocking you, especially since you were acting nothing but polite and shy.

Mouse? you could see the resemblance i guess, with the small one word answers which sounded like small squeaks from the anxiety. Still, John B was being kind of a dick at the moment which caused your frown to deepen as you debated just making a run for it and disappearing.

John B chuckled quietly, not taking his eyes off you as you fiddled with your glasses. He knew he was being a dick, but he was just enjoying it too much. He suddenly had an idea in his mind, a way to further piss off JJ. With a sly smirk on his face, he spoke again, this time, directed solely at you, ignoring JJ completely. "So, mouse, what's your name?"

'Seriously? neither of them know my name?' you groaned internally, looking up to lock eyes with John B nervously. In moments like these you wished you had at least a bit of semblance of a back bone, and not just clam up like a dumbass, "Y/n.." you answered simply, your expression twitching slightly from having to repeat your name once again. You wanted to roll your eyes in annoyance so badly.

There was something about the way you said your name that made JJ's heart stutter in a way it never had before. It sounded almost magical coming out of your small lips, it was so... mellow, and yet so beautiful. John B's smile widened at your answer, obviously not expecting to get an actual answer and a name at that.

"Huh... nice name. Suits you." He said, his eyes roaming over you again, studying your face to figure out if he knew you or not. He came up blank, probably due to being tipsy.

JJ continued to stay silent, watching the interaction between his best friend and you. He was feeling a weird mix of anger and curiosity as he watched. You looked so much more fragile and unthreatening than he had thought. You were like a small cat, a cute but easily spooked cat. Or maybe a mouse, he wasn't sure which.

You felt awkward suddenly, the 3 of you going silent save from the music coming from downstairs after John B's comment about your name. You looked between them momentarily before stepping forward shyly to signal John B to move out the way so you could escape this weird and sufficiently awkward situation at once.

John B chuckled again as you stepped forward, his eyes following your every move. But just as you were about to slip out of the closet, he suddenly reached a hand out, blocking your way.

"Where do you think you're going, mouse?"

JJ furrowed his eyebrows at his friend's behaviour, he knew exactly what he was trying to do. He was trying to annoy both of you, as well as prevent you from getting away. JJ had had just about enough

"Okay, that's enough John B. Don't you think you've teased the poor girl enough?"

John B sighed dramatically, pouting at JJ's annoyed response. He took a small step back, opening up the doorway once again "You're no fun. I was just having a little fun. Don't take it so seriously, JJ."

As much you enjoyed being in JJ's presence you hated social interactions and you wanted to just find your best friend to tell her that this was a bad idea and you should just skate home. So you took a final glance at JJ, before stepping out of the small cramped closet when John B removed his arm which was blocking your way hesitantly. But stepping out wasn't any better cause you were met with the party, still in full throttle, the music making your head feel weird, weirder than being stuck in a moldy closet with your childhood crush. There were less people on the floor you were on, but it was still crowded enough by drunken couples and some rowdy friend groups to make you feel anxious. This was most definitely a bad idea.

JJ watched you step out of the closet, a small pang of guilt shooting through his chest from knowing you were uncomfortable but now having no way to help the situation. He shot a glare at John B for the 10th time in the last 5 minutes through the doorway, silently warning his friend once again.

"You're a damn dick man. Why did you feel the need to be so rude to her?"

John B just shrugged, looking back at JJ with a sly smile as he replied "Because I thought it would be funny. Besides, I didn't think she'd answer me. I thought she was mute or something."

JJ grimaced, of course John B would find making fun of the shyest person he had ever met, fun. He pinched the bridge of his nose, groaning quietly. He took a deep breath before speaking up again:

"You really can be an annoying bastard, you know that? Sometimes i wonder how you even manage to speak with girls.."

You weaved through the mass of people at the house party, bumping into couples getting busy and grimacing in apology, trying not to stumble over your feet in the cramped space on the staircase. You quickly descended down the stairs, looking for your friend Maisy, to scold her for bringing you here in the first place. Suddenly, a hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. A hand that you recognized, and yet dreaded at the same time. JJ had followed you, and was now stood next to you at the bottom of the stairs.

He gently grabbed your hand, stopping you from walking away. His hand was calloused and rough from years of surfing, yet warm. He spoke up, trying to get your attention over the loud R&B music blaring from the speakers. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

You tensed up from the sudden contact and because well, you thought someone else was grabbing you to pull yet another dumb prank on you, not expecting JJ to follow you and try to talk to you. You shook your head 'no' because as much as you wanted to spend time with him, you knew you'd just clam up and make it weird because this was JJ and you were you.

He noticed how tense you suddenly became once his hand touched you, he couldn't help but silently worry in his head. He wanted to sigh at your immediate response of shaking your head no, but he decided to persist a little more despite not having any reason to:

"Please? I promise I won't make fun of you or anything. I just wanna talk."

"Well, i need to find my friend." you find yourself speaking, although you weren't sure if he heard you over the music or the myriad of sounds and things going on in this house. Really, it was surprising how the neighbors hadn't called the police yet.

JJ leaned closer to you, trying to hear your soft spoken words. He could just barely make out what you had said, but he heard it enough. He looked around for a moment, searching for your friend but not seeing them anywhere in the crowd. But it was a given, since he didn't even know who he was looking for. "Where is your friend? I'll help you look for them."

You shrugged, because you had the same question. Where the hell was Maisy anyway? she disappeared and expected you to what? have fun and party? as if you could do that. Your eyes were fixed on JJ's face, the one you knew and loved through the years, anxiously shifting on your feet at the feel of his big hand still wrapped around your wrist, stopping you from scurrying away.

JJ could sense your anxiousness, he could practically feel the anxious energy coming off your small frame. He subconsciously let his thumb slowly and gently caress your wrist, an attempt to somehow soothe you, even if only slightly. He didn’t like seeing you so anxious.

He suddenly realized that he was still holding your arm, gently keeping you by his side and preventing you from slipping away in the chaos of the house party. He had forgotten in the moment. He looked down at his hand on your arm, "Maybe they went outside.."

You could call her! yeah, you could do that... but what if big mouth Maisy actually showed up and saw JJ Maybank, the dude you had been crushing on since you were a 3rd grader, holding your wrist and actually speaking to you? She'll make this awkward and run her mouth, possibly getting you rejected at the same time. So, you thought it was best to just let him speak to you and then leave you to look for her alone. "What do you wanna talk about with me?" you asked, still quietly, hoping and praying he'd hear you and that you didn't come off as rude.

JJ was a little surprised at the fact that you still stayed by his side after he suggested looking for your friend. He honestly thought you would run off. He mentally shrugged, taking the opportunity to talk to you even more. He turned slightly to look down at you as you spoke, leaning forward to hear you better.

His heart skipped a beat as he heard your quiet voice. That same feeling of both guilt and curiosity ran through him again. How could one voice be so soft and quiet, yet so beautiful at the same time? The thought confused and intrigued him.

He took a moment to register that you had asked him a question, the shock of you actually talking to him making his brain fry for a second or two. He quickly brought himself back to reality, realising that he had to reply.

"I just wanted to apologize. About John B i mean, he's a massive dick, no doubt about that. I told him off.."

"It's okay.." you mumbled smiling slightly, adjusting your glasses with the hand that wasn't in JJ's grip. You actually managed to hold the conversation normally, albeit you were still squeaking out your words.

JJ's eyebrows raised at your smile, his eyes widening slightly. He wasn't expecting you to smile as an answer to his apology, it was the last reaction he had expected. And yet, it was a welcome one. It made him feel better, deep down he felt guilty for his friend's behavior.

He stared at you for another moment, the hand he was using to hold your wrist moving once again, his thumb still slowly caressing your skin. He hadn't even noticed he was doing it this time.

JJ quickly snapped out of the little trance and cleared his throat, speaking up again. He didn’t want to make things weird and freak you out. He could feel John B’s eyes on him, he knew the bastard was watching him from the top of the stairs and silently giggling about the whole thing. He pushed down his annoyance, his eyes moving away from your face and around the room, looking at the other people gathered around them. "You said this party was your friend’s idea, right?"

You nodded silently, glancing around the room for your stupid best friend. You were gonna kill Maisy for disappearing on you like this, especially at a party of this calibre. You tried to ignore how JJ was still holding onto your wrist, now rubbing his thumb over your skin to probably soothe you. It made you feel more nervous and anxious, the urge to bolt even more strong now. You didn't wanna mess it up and make it awkward or worse come off as a creep by staring at him or saying something stupid, although the last part was impossible given you barely spoke.

JJ bit the inside of his cheek as you silently nodded back to his question. He was starting to realize how hard you were to talk to, how shy you were. It made him feel bad. He found himself wishing that he could just hear your voice just a little louder. It was so gentle. It made him want to hear more of it, but he had no idea how to get you to speak more without making you uncomfortable.

He quickly stopped himself from thinking any further, realizing that he was starting to sound like a creep in his own head.

They stood there silently for a couple more seconds, as JJ desperately tried to think of something to say to break the silence without making things weird. He could still feel John B’s eyes on him, silently watching the whole situation and probably having the time of his life.

"So...how come I've never seen you around at school before? "

He tried, even though he knew the answer. He just needed to get you talking.

Ouch. You saw him at school all the time, even took routes around the school just to get to pass by him in the halls and hear him talk so loudly to his friends and laugh. So the question stung a little. You looked up at him, shrugging your shoulders, narrowing your eyes and blinking a couple of times, your brain desperately trying to just block out the sound of the music which was making your lungs feel like they were being shaken up.

JJ mentally cringed as he saw the slightly hurt look in your eyes, he regretted his choice of question immediately. Stupid. Of course you were at school, he saw you at school, he just never seen you with anyone.

He winced as he heard that music change to something even louder. The constant music was starting to grate his nerves.

"Can we go outside for a second? I can't even freaking hear myself think in here."

Your brows furrowed, considering his suggestion. It was a good idea, you could call Maisy, maybe have a cigarette too and let your ears get a break from this loud music blaring in them. So you nodded hesitantly, glancing around one last time in case you magically spotted your best friend.

JJ let out a breath of relief when you nodded your head in agreement. He was glad he didn’t have to try and shout over the music anymore. He turned, pulling gently on your wrist to lead you toward the front door. He weaved through people, avoiding getting into conversations. He was determined to get you alone outside so he could talk to you.

Finally, they made it outside. JJ released your wrist as they reached the front door. He took a deep breath, enjoying the sudden lack of music and the relative quiet (well, aside from the still loud music coming from inside). JJ took a step away from you as he turned to face you.

"Thank god, I thought my ears were gonna bleed with that damn music in there."

'Yeah..' you agreed mentally once again, nodding with a small smile and adjusting your glasses as you stood on the porch, finally able to breathe fresh air, a stark contrast from the muted and sweaty smelling air inside. You needed to start saying words out loud, instead of just answering in your mind.

JJ leaned against the porch railing, stuffing his hands into his pockets. The air was much cooler outside, compared to the stuffy heat that was present inside.

He took a few seconds to study you as you stood across from him. The light from the porch made you look even more softer, if that was even possible. You looked so small in that moment, it made him wonder how you had managed to make it to high school.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, clearing his throat before speaking up again. He couldn’t believe that he was actually talking to you, and the fact that he hadn’t messed it up yet was a surprise to him. He didn’t want to think about how bad he would screw it up in the future.

"So uh...wanna explain why you were hiding in a closet? "

There. A question to get the conversation going. He mentally cursed himself in his head, realizing how stupid the question sounded.

"I got pushed in at the same time as you." You found the courage to speak yay! and not so shaky and quiet either. Maybe it was the fact that he thought you were just hiding in the moldy closet, like an actual mouse, which made you wanna defend yourself. That's what was missing from this situation, for him to think you were an actual dumbass who was hiding in a closet because she was afraid of party sounds.

JJ found himself chuckling, raising an eyebrow at your answer. He didn’t expect that particular answer, he was expecting you to say that you just decided to hide in the closest instead of socializing. But pushed in? He could actually believe that. "Damn. Got pushed into a closet with me? That’s gotta be some pretty shitty luck."

'I'd like to think it was kinda lucky of me to get pushed in with you, of all people...' you laughed internally. You glanced at him, tearing your eyes from the street in front of the house, narrowing your eyes at his words, but deciding to just stay silent. It was better than saying something to counter it or even worse.. to try and be funny and fail.

JJ’s eyebrows nearly raised at the sound of your small, quiet laugh. He hadn’t expected you to laugh at his joke, he was actually surprised that you had responded at all. That laugh was definitely enough to make him keep going to get that sweet, soft sound to come back.

“You know, you have a really pretty laugh..“ The sentence was out of his mouth before he could even realize it. He internally winced, hoping he hadn’t just made things weird by complimenting you. Not that he didn't compliment girls usually. If anything, that's how he managed to score in the first place. But in your case he wasn't trying to flatter you to get in your pants. He simply found you interesting.

You could feel yourself blush at his compliment, not realizing you actually laughed out-loud instead of just thinking about it in your head. You scolded yourself internally for reacting to such a casual sentence, he was just being nice after all, not asking you to marry him. "Thanks." you managed to mutter out quietly, hoping it sounded at least a tad bit grateful, and not rude and clipped.

JJ’s heart skipped a beat when he saw that adorable blush on your face. He had never seen you so expressive yet quiet at the same time since he'd met you less than an hour ago. He silently smirked to himself, now he knew how to make you blush. He mentally noted that fact down for later. The fact that you had mumbled out a simple “thanks” in response, just made everything even better for him. He would take anything you responded with, just so he could get you to keep talking and hear that angelic voice.

He shifted against the railing, his hand moving to his back pocket to pull out a pack of cigarettes. He quickly took one out, putting it between his lips. He glanced down at you as he pulled out a lighter to light the cigarette.

He held the pack out to you, silently offering you a cigarette as well. Which as he did, he realized that it wasn't really the epitome of smooth or romantic. But he already had his hand out stretched. JJ was becoming annoyed at himself for overthinking his every move, feeling like he was losing his footing on a ground he'd navigated countless times.

A small amused grimace made its way on your face despite trying to stop it, silently debating if you should take a cigarette. You pulled out your own lighter, stepping a little closer, not too much to look weird, lighting his cigarette before taking one for yourself. 'Wow.. so confident, lighting his cigarette for him.' you quipped sardonically in your head as you lit the cigarette for your self and took a long drag from it.

JJ’s eyes widened a little in surprise when you stepped closer to him, so close that you could reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. He watched you flick your lighter on, a small wave of excitement rushing through him as you held the light to his cigarette. He leaned his head forward slightly, putting the other end of the cigarette to his mouth and taking a drag. He exhaled the smoke as he watched you light your own cigarette.

He almost laughed when he saw the small grimace that came across your face.

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes studying the features of your face. You looked so beautiful like this, in the soft light of the porch with a cigarette between your lips. It was enough for him to realize that he wanted to see you like this more - not just tonight but anytime he could.

He turned away slightly as he exhaled the smoke, trying to calm his thoughts once again. He didn’t know you and yet here he was, already getting addicted to being close to you and hearing you talk.

The cigarette was a welcome relief given the fact that you were on edge since you came to the stupid party, leaning on the railing and taking long drags to fill your lungs with the smoke, the nicotine swirling around in your brain. Here you were, smoking a cigarette casually with the guy you were pinning after for years. 3rd grade you would probably faint and break her glasses in 2 if she knew.

JJ silently watched how you exhaled the smoke that was going into your lungs. It was hypnotizing watching you do this, something about it just made him want to keep watching. It was just so oddly satisfying to watch you smoke. He knew it probably wasn’t, but he didn’t care in that moment. It was oddly pleasing in a way he couldn’t explain.

He took another drag, letting the cigarette sit between his lips as he spoke. "You smoke often?"

"Yeah.. helps with the whole social anxiety thing.." you nodded your words followed by a small dry chuckle as you side glanced at him, exhaling the smoke to the side to avoid blowing it directly in his face.

JJ couldn’t help but notice the little side glance at him. That action, for some reason, made his stomach flip and flutter like it had a mind of its own, the way your eyes fixed on him momentarily making him nervous for some reason. A small smirk formed on his face as he blew out his own puff of smoke.

"Social anxiety, huh?"

He took another drag of the cigarette, his eyes looking straight at you as he did. He chuckled slightly, he never thought you would be the type to suffer from social anxiety, mostly because of his prejudice towards your social status. You had always seemed so quiet and reserved, but he never assumed it was because of that. But, as he looked at you now, taking a puff of your cigarette and shyly glancing at him every so often, he was starting to realize that maybe social anxiety made sense. The thought made him realize that he really didn’t know you at all, and that he desperately wanted to change that.

He leaned against the railing once again, taking another drag from the cigarette as he decided on what to say next.

Before he had the chance to do so, none other than your best friend Maisy, burst through the front door, her eyes fixed on you and probably not noticing JJ at first, "Y/n/n! where have you been, girl? You just missed the whole ordeal with Maybank getting locked in a closet with some random girl. It was so crazy.. I looked for you so i could tell you all about it!" she gasped excitedly as she clasped her hands on your shoulders, her loud voice and sudden appearance startling you and JJ. She could not, for the life of her read the room. Ever.

JJ’s eyes immediately went from you to Maisy, he was going to attempt to make more conversation until your best friend burst through the door.

He stiffened at hearing his last name, instantly tensing at what Maisy had said, now staring at the strawberry blonde mess of hair when she stepped in front of him to grab your shoulders.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, glancing over Maisy's shoulder to signal JJ's presence, glaring at her subtly. You didn't want her to say something stupid and reveal your feelings by mistake and embarrass you in front of him. Maisy’s eyes suddenly widened as she realized that she had walked out in the middle of a conversation you having with someone. She followed your gaze and looked over her shoulder, noticing JJ for the first time.

She gasped as her eyes widened even more, her look of surprise quickly turning into a smirk as she glanced back and forth from JJ to you.

You shook your head as if to say, 'don't, i'll kill you.

Maisy, the best friend she was, completely forgot about the look you had given her and the silent threat you were trying to convey in seconds upon receiving it. She had suddenly realized that you were standing beside JJ by yourself, and she was about to take full advantage of the situation. She smirked at you and wiggled her eyebrows dramatically, silently teasing you in her own way.

"Maisy. Please." you widened your eyes, silently scolding her and desperately suppressing the urge to groan out loud. Maisy was well aware of your MASSIVE years long crush on JJ, and you knew she was happy about this, in her own way, of course.

Maisy’s smirk grew as she saw how you widened your eyes and silently begged her not to say anything. She knew how big of a crush you had on JJ and how long you had wanted a moment like this. She was going to make the most of this.

She feigned innocence, silently raising an eyebrow at you as if to say "what".

JJ glanced back and forth between the two of you, picking up on the tension that he couldn’t fully understand. He glanced at you, noticing the look in your eyes as you looked at your friend. He could almost feel the pleading in your eyes, silently begging her not to say anything.

He looked at your friend, catching the smirk that was on her face. He silently tried to figure out what was going on. What was going through the mind of your bratty friend in that moment?

Mimsy glanced at JJ, noticing the curious look he had on his face. She couldn’t help but tease her friend, this was a once lifetime chance and she wasn’t going to pass up on the opportunity to tease her just a little.

She continued her innocent look as she turned back to you. She smirked as she leaned her head in your direction, acting as if she was going to whisper something into your ear. But instead, she spoke loudly, making sure JJ could hear her too. She loved tormenting you just a bit too much.

"You're alone with JJ Maybank of all people. How does it feel?"

Maisy said, a sly grin on her face as she watched your reaction. She was enjoying messing with you and making a fool of you in front of the guy that you liked a little too much for her liking. She didn't care, she loved embarrassing you. It was a friend’s right to tease their other friend in front of a potential love interest, right?

"Embarrassing, given you're here now." you glared at her, probably the most expressive JJ had seen you since you started speaking in the closet. A small sigh escaped your lips and you barely contained the urge to face-palm dramatically.

Maisy let out a loud gasp, acting as if she was offended by your words. She put her hand over her heart, a dramatic look crossing her face as she spoke. She was really enjoying this just so she could get a reaction out of you, which in turn would get a reaction out of JJ.

“Oh, wow. You’re being a bit rude, aren’t you? I can’t believe you’d say that in front of JJ. So insulting.”

JJ let out a stifled laugh as your friend dramatically pretended to be offended. He couldn’t help but find her antics amusing as he watched the whole scene unfold in front of his eyes. But he really couldn’t help but notice the glare you gave to your friend. It was the most expressive facial expression he had seen you wear so far, and he had to admit that he rather liked it. There was something about you standing up for yourself that he found attractive, even if it was just in a small way.

"And also I'm gonna kill you for ditching me like that.. " you added quietly, slapping Maisy's shoulder teasingly even though you were still glaring at her.

Misy let out another gasp as you slapped her shoulder. She feigned a look of pain on her face as she dramatically winced and rubbed the spot where you had slapped her in a playful way. She let out a loud melodramatic "ow". Clearly she was just messing with you at this point.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ditch you. I just had to do something REALLLLYYY important." she countered, her words dripping with suggestive undertones rather than genuine apology.

"Like?" you raised one brow, feigning annoyance.

Maisy shrugged her shoulders slightly, trying her best to look innocent. It was all an act, and she was enjoying it so much. She loved getting a rise out of you just so she could see the way you reacted and how you acted in front of JJ. In another world, she would’ve been a professional drama actor with the way she was able to act so well.

"Just something..., you know. The usual. Important, fun, necessary stuff."

"You need to drive me home. I hate this stupid party." you put out your cigarette, sighing and groaning out loud this time as you adjusted your glasses, leaning away from the railing.

Your best friend laughed at your irritation. She knew that you hated parties and that you dreaded them, that’s why she’d convinced you to come to this one in the first place. It was just her way of being a good friend.

"Alright, alright. Stop being such a prude. I’ll take you home, you baby. Just let me say 'bye' to a few people first. You’re such a buzzkill, you know that?"

"Ugh Maisy.. you're just gonna take forever." you groaned once again at the thought of having to follow her around while she bid her never-ending goodbyes.

"I'll just skate home. Where's your car? i left my board in there." at that point, given how quiet JJ was you forgot momentarily that he was there, speaking freely and more expressively.

Misy raised her eyebrows dramatically as you mentioned skating home. If there was one thing she hated more than parties, it was your habit of skating everywhere. It was like you were allergic to cars. She let out a fake gasp and dramatically put her hand on her chest like she had been wounded.

“Skate home this late!? Alone!? You’re joking right?”

"Unlock the car. I can see it from here." you deadpanned, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, nodding towards her car parked a bit messily on the lawn of the house.

Maisy scoffed and turned towards where her car was parked. She pulled out her keys out of her pocket and unlocked the car.

“Ugh. Fine. But if you get kidnapped or murdered, I’m not taking the blame. You’re such a pain, you know that right?”

"Bye... I'll see you tomorrow when you're hung over." you waved a hand in her face dramatically, the gesture sarcastic.

Maisy rolled her eyes at your sarcastic wave. She couldn’t help but smirk at how much of a pain you were being. She put a hand on her hip, raising an eyebrow at you in a sarcastic way.

“Ugh, thanks for that. I look forward to your sarcastic and overly annoying comments in the morning. See you, baby.”

With that she turned on her heel and walked back into the house, heading back into the party with a smirk still on her face. She was beyond satisfied with herself. She had pushed your buttons enough for you to be a bit more expressive in front of JJ and get a reaction from both you and him. It was one of her favorite pastimes to see you flustered and a bit irritated just at her presence.

The moment she disappeared inside, the only person left outside on the porch was you and JJ.

After Maisy had gone back inside, the porch suddenly felt much quieter than before. The only sounds heard were the crickets in the background and the muffled noise from the party inside. JJ glanced over at you, his eyes studying your face once again. He couldn’t help but notice the change in your demeanor the moment your annoying friend left.

As soon as your best friend left you were aware that you were alone with JJ again. You glanced at him adjusting your glasses nervously, "sorry about that.."

JJ couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as you nervously adjusted your glasses the moment you realised you were alone with him. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the railing of the porch once again, his gaze fixed on you.

"No need to apologize. Your friend is… something else.”

Back to clamming up like a dumbass you go. You nodded silently, a small apologetic smile tugging at your lips. You were going to skate home, but you weren't sure how to.. end the conversation with JJ? should you just leave? wave at him? no... that's too casual, he doesn't even know you. Saying bye felt pathetic.

JJ chuckled again as you fell back into your shy, nervous demeanor. He could tell that you were overthinking the entire situation in the moment, trying to find the right way to leave. He thought that you looked so awkward and nervous. It was almost cute how unsure of yourself you were.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a step towards you.

"You’re still gonna skate home?"

You hummed faintly and nodded, looking out to Maisy's car. You didn't hate the idea of skating home, given you had your earphones with you and you could just take a shortcut to your house from here.

He couldn't help but smirk slightly as you hummed weakly and nodded. He took a couple more steps towards you, closing the gap between the two of you completely. He stood right in front of you, looking down at you with a raised eyebrow. "Not afraid of being kidnapped or murdered like your friend said?"

"I skate at night pretty often." you stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, your voice back to its quiet and soft tone again.

JJ smirked even more as you stated your regular night time skating routine as if it was natural. He let out an amused chuckle, his eyebrows raising at the idea of you skating home alone in the dark so often.

"You skate at night often? You must have a death wish, doll."

You furrowed your brows at his nickname, whipping your head to look up at him with an expression resembling confusion. It was mostly to hide how flustered it made you, a small frown forming on your face, which wasn't supposed to be rude in any way, you were just... thrown off.

He smirked as you whipped your head up to look at him, your face showing a look of confusion mixed with… dare he say it, was that a hint of blush on your cheeks? He let out a small chuckle as he noticed your small, almost pouty frown. "What's with that look for, doll? You got a problem with the new nickname?"

You pursed your lips, as if mulling over the nickname in your head and dissecting it. He had no reason to call you that, but you knew JJ even though he didn't know you. You knew he was carefree and casual with everyone, so it wasn't hard for him to say certain things or make jokes. A part of you had always been envious of that, ever since you started liking him. Maybe that's why you liked him. He was the opposite of you, and in some ways you wished you could be like him, or like the girls you knew he usually went for.

He observed your facial expressions closely as you seemed to be deep in thought. He could practically hear the gears turning in your head as you thought about the nickname he had given you. He didn’t know why he called you "doll", it just came out naturally in the moment. He had a habit of nicknaming people, especially pretty ones, without even thinking about it. But for some reason, he was more interested in your reaction to it this time. It was the first nickname he had given you, and he wondered how you would react to it.

He chuckled softly to himself as he watched you purse your lips slightly, your facial expression almost looking like you were analyzing and dissecting the nickname he had given you. He couldn’t help but feel amused at the way you were acting. You were so quiet and soft-spoken, so different from anything he was used to. It was almost endearing in a way. He found your shyness refreshing and cute.

You decided you had enough of just standing there awkwardly and you looked up at him, nodding in greeting and walking towards the steps off the porch, your feet moving slowly, as if you were hesitating, afraid not to create a hole through the wood or something. You didn't wanna leave obviously, but you were awkward and weird and flustered easily and he was... well, JJ. You decided that you liked pining after him from afar from your camera lenses and behind corners rather than embarrassing yourself by talking to him face to face.

JJ watched as you nodded in greeting and began to walk down the steps of the porch. He let out a small chuckle as he noticed the slow and hesitant way you moved, as if you were afraid to break something on the way. He found your nervous mannerisms to be endearing, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was going on in your head at that moment.

As you started walking away, he couldn’t help but step forward and speak up before you got too far.

"Hey, wait."

He took a few steps towards you, closing the distance between the two of you again as he spoke up, his voice low and gentle. "You’re just gonna leave like that, doll?"

"Well.. yeah?" you grimaced hesitantly, curious as to why he seemed so adamant on speaking with you even though you were silent most of the time.

He raised an eyebrow at your hesitancy and grimace. He couldn’t help but feel a mix of annoyance and interest at the fact that you were just going to leave without a second thought. He had wanted to talk to you more, and he wasn’t about to give up just yet.

"You can’t just leave after you’ve barely said anything at this party. You’re too quiet, it’s a little weird."

Ouch again. He probably didn't mean to make another stingy comment, but you still felt the sting a little. You didn't let it show though, raising your brows and adjusting your glasses, looking at him as if expecting him to continue, despite the obvious figurative period at the end of his sentence.

He noticed the subtle flash of hurt in your eyes at his comment, but he didn’t apologize for it. He had a reputation to maintain after all. He raised an eyebrow in return at your raised brows and expression, expecting you to say something. When you didn’t, his eyes narrowed slightly as if he was annoyed that you weren’t responding. "Is that all you’re gonna do, just stare at me?"

You looked to the side as if considering his question, nodding slowly and silently. You knew he probably didn't like it, you weren't the kind of person that would hang around JJ Maybank after all. But you couldn't help it, your brain just didn't wanna speak sometimes, it was like it was selectively mute, which was very asshole-ish of it.

He let out a low sigh at your nod and silent response. He found it both annoying and endearing at the same time how reticent you were. He wasn’t used to someone being this quiet and reserved around him. Usually girls would cling to him or talk endlessly, never shutting up.

He took a small step closer to you, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at you. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and gruff as he spoke. "You can at least say something, doll."

"Something." you spoke without realizing, the word soft and quiet even though it was more sarcastic than anything.

A surprised laugh escaped his lips at your unexpected sarcastic response. He didn’t expect you to actually say something, let alone something sarcastic.

"Clever."

He said dryly as a smirk formed on his face, his eyebrows raising slightly. He was enjoying this more than he cared to admit, he wasn’t used to people being sarcastic back to him, not someone as quiet as you anyway.

He leaned in slightly closer, his smirk slowly morphing into a small, amused smile. He liked how blunt and sarcastic you could be, and the fact that you were being sarcastic with him was almost funny. "You sure know how to make conversation, doll."

You raised your brows and nodded looking to the side once again as if to say 'i know right?', a small scoff leaving your lips.

He chuckled softly at your raised brows and subtle scoff. It was like you were trying to match his confidence and snarky attitude but by being quiet at the same time, and he couldn’t help but find it amusing. He took another small step forward, getting even closer to you. "You sure are a sassy one, doll. Most people would be a stuttering mess in front of me right now."

'I am stuttering... mentally.' you thought, fixing him with your gaze. You were sure you were plenty nervous in front him anyway, stuttering would just make you explode probably. You were sure that would actually happen if it came down to it.

He could see the hint of nervousness in your eyes as you fixed him with a steady gaze. He knew that you were probably feeling very nervous and intimidated by his presence, but you were doing a good job at not letting it show. It was refreshing to him that you weren’t falling all over yourself in front of him like most girls did.

"You’re awfully quiet though. How come you’re not all over me like most girls are?" He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm and subtle curiosity.

'Oh, how i would love to-..' you stopped that thought before it actually finished in your mind, shaking it out of your brain quickly. Your version of being all over him was stalking him around and taking pretty artsy and stalkerish pictures of him from afar. Of course that was embarrassing to think about, especially when he was standing right in front of you, talking and giving you casual nicknames like 'doll and mouse.'

He noticed the brief second when you seemed to zone out for a moment before snapping yourself out of it. He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the look that had crossed your face, if only for a split second. He raised an eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanor and wondered what had just gone through your head.

"You sure love zoning out, doll. You alright in that head of yours?"

You nodded swiftly, looking back up at him. Still, you couldn't seem to get a word out, which was becoming annoying for you. You can talk to him, he's not gonna bite.

He could sense your frustration at your inability to speak, even though he could also tell that you were trying to remain calm and collected in front of him. He found your struggle both endearing and irritating at the same time.

He chuckled softly before speaking again, his voice soft and casual. "You know you can talk to me, right? Like, actually say something out loud."

"I'm a girl of few words." you spoke up, pursing your lips gently as you looked up at him, nodding in a self-assured way.

He chuckled again at your response, his eyes fixed on your pursed lips. There was something strangely intriguing about the way you looked at him, even with your glasses in the way. "I can tell, doll. You’re practically mute." like an actual doll, that was even more funnier to think about in JJ's mind.

He found himself moving closer to you again, a smirk playing on his lips. He was enjoying the fact that you were struggling to speak, and secretly found it cute how shy and awkward you were around him.

"You’re a little mouse, aren’t ya? Too shy to talk?"

You hated that word when it was used to describe your quietness by others, but when it came out of his mouth and it rolled off his lips you found it almost... sweet. The way he seemed to weigh his words and keep his rowdy and loud behavior in check made you feel.. special? but also pitied, like he was scared of scaring you away. You raised your brows, adjusting your glasses and smiling slightly at him, nodding again after a few seconds.

He could see the hint of annoyance in your eyes when he called you a mouse, but it was gone as soon as he saw you smile slightly.

"Awww, look at that, she finally smiled. I didn’t think it was possible with you being so quiet."

He mocked your silence once more, just to tease you a bit more. He found your reactions and facial expressions entertaining, even if you were silent most of the time.

Somehow you found the courage to reach up and smack his shoulder playfully, glaring at him half heartedly. The action surprised even yourself, retracting your hand fast in fear that you might've made him uncomfortable.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise when you reached up and smacked his shoulder, the action catching him off guard. It was the first time you had physically touched him, and he couldn’t help but feel a small spark of electricity at the contact. He also noticed the way you retracted your hand quickly, as if you were afraid of what he might do.

He laughed softly at the look on your face, his smirk widening.

"Did you just SMACK me, mouse?"

"Sorry.." you stuttered out, stepping back a little nervously. It was supposed to be a casual teasing smack but as per usual, you made things awkward and weird. Just like you always did.

He chuckled again at your stuttered apology, the sound low and gruff. He found your nervous mannerisms and stuttering quite endearing. It was an odd thing, being intrigued by someone who hardly talked and was very awkward. He took a step closer to you, closing the distance between you again. "Don’t apologize, doll. I’m not mad." He said lowly, his smirk fading into a soft smile.

You nodded quickly, turning away suddenly and walking towards Maisy's car to retrieve your board and skate home. God, you had spoken to him more than you ever did in these 8 years of pining after him. And it was so nerve wrecking, having someone have some much control over you without even knowing.

As you walked away, JJ couldn't help but feel a bit of disappointment that you were leaving already. He watched you walk towards Maisy's car, and a part of him wanted to call out to you to stay, but he didn't.

He couldn't quite understand why, but there was something about you that he found strangely captivating. Despite the fact that you were very shy and awkward around him, he felt strangely drawn to you. He didn’t want the conversation to end just yet.

He thought about calling out to you to wait, but something stopped him. He wasn't sure what it was, but he couldn't bring himself to speak up. Instead, he just watched as you walked away, his eyes fixed on your retreating form.

Maybe it was the way you had looked at him with those shy, behind-the-glasses eyes, or the soft, almost sarcastic responses you had given him despite your quiet nature. Something just made him want to keep talking to you, even if all you did was just nod and stay silent most of the time. Maybe that's what JJ needed, someone quiet enough to help him ground his loudness. But that thought was shaken away when he realized you were a stranger and the 2 of you might not even interact ever again.

JJ was still standing there at base of the porch steps, watching as you opened the back seat of Maisy's car. He raised an eyebrow at the state of the car, thinking to himself about how messy it was. As you retrieved your board from under the pile of clothes and Gatorade bottles, he watched your every movement intently.

When you suddenly turned around and waved at him, JJ couldn’t help but feel a fluttering in his chest. He couldn’t quite understand why, but he found the gesture strangely adorable.

He raised his hand in response, waving back at you.

"Night, mouse. Don't get lost on the way home."

He called out, his smirk returning to his face. He couldn't help but tease you a little before you left, it was too hard not to poke at your shy demeanor.

You couldn't help but smile at his use of the nickname again, placing your board on the sidewalk and glancing at him one last time before finally forcing yourself to skate away down the sidewalk, the sound of the party becoming distant as you skated down the street.

JJ watched as you placed your board on the sidewalk and started skating away. He couldn’t help but notice the small smile that had appeared on your face when he had called you 'mouse' again. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction being the cause of the smile, even if it was a small one.

—♡‧

A/n: Okay so... what do we think about the first interaction? I decided mid-way that I'm making this multiple parts..☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ if this does well I'll post part 2.. JJ is such a yapper, and the reader is.. not. I'll take this down if people don't read it but i have an entire story about these 2 :( I'm just curious if this was too long

Divider credits: @cafekitsune

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