#Gumball machine with a face

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Eddie, Will, and El opening a tattoo shop together.

Eddie's all shit-post tattoos in American Traditional, muted colors

Will's style is large murals, vibrant colors, with fantasy themes

El is exclusively shaded, fine-line minimalism

[ourlordapollo]

Fit checckkk

[girlwiththegreenhat]

lovingly makes fun of my brother and his friends for having gambling addictions at the arcade like i wouldn't go broke if they installed gachapon machines

[struwberrii]

bokuto headcanons ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

like the title says, her are my cutesy bokuto kotarou headcanons ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧ (mainly relationship stuff)

know so many random niche food spots, like whatever your craving he knows the best spot to pick it up at

he talks to animals like theyre friends (they are)

randomly challenges people to races or arm wrestles to settle any dispute

loves watching cartoons, like hangout sessions with bokuto consist of getting a bunch of junk food that will for sure give you a stomach ache then getting comfy on the couch and watching the amazing world of gum ball

he has the comfiest bed ever, like ik his blanket is the softest thing you've ever felt in your entire life

loves wearing clothes with hoodies so he can just hide in them when he gets sad

loves playing video games but hes so bad at them bc hes too impatient to learn the rules so he just plays and tries to figure it out along the way

ik he gives the BEST hugs ever

i feel like as a kid he had an emotional support box that he just sits in

eats so much food but always shares with you even if that means he goes home still hungry

remembers every little thing you tell him about yourself

would literally just do whatever you ask him to and ask 0 questions 😭

sometimes he accidentally wears his sisters clothes, imagine him picking you up wearing a pink nyan cat shirt

his favorite candy is candy (literally everything)

can’t handle spicy food AT ALL

kisses all over your face

he genuinely loves everything about you <3

he knows how to treat a girl right!! ( yk he has 2 sisters they do NOT play that)

if he’s ever sad or ‘emo’ literally all it takes is you being there for him to lift his spirits again

cries at every movie, happy tears, sad tears, confused tears everything

literally SO LOUD like we already know this but if ur ever embarrassed and whispering something to him he’ll practically yell it back to you

bro cannot whisper

always brags about you and shows you off

i feel like he smells either like sweets and sugar or like literal fire like burnt if he isn’t wearing cologne

he’s not terrible with money but i feel like he just makes really stupid purchases every once in a while, like he has a sponge bob gumball machine in his house that he never uses but spent like $200 on

loves wearing winter hats with animal ears

pets stray animal on the road

butt dials people a questionable amount of times

whenever he’s ‘emo’ his first thought is to call you just to hear your voice

wants a really random pet, like a bird or little pig

whenever people are mean to him on his team he threatens to call you over to handle it 😭 (he can’t be mean for the life of him)

i feel like he’d wear uggs (not like girly uggs but like those men’s uggs with the laces yk??or those ugh house shoes w the red lining idk sorry guys)

loves having at home movie nights he looks forward to them all week

randomly sends the most heartfelt and thoughtful texts ever

literally attacks you with hugs if he hasn’t seen you for a while or after his games

farts and traps you under the covers 😭

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Sam's shop having one of those gumball machines where you can get a cute little plastic ring, Yuu is there with their fave twst boy and immediately gives the little piece of plastic they got to him and states with a serious face-

"Were married now."

[strawberrynightmare]

Mikey, Nahoya, Senju & Hanma on a school trip

Mikey

~Only came because you came.

~Probably overslept and the whole bus had to wait for him because he was either late or almost late, it depends on how angry you sound through your text. 

~He’s not a loud companion, since he’ll be asleep like 70% of the time, the rest would be eating and chatting with you. So it’s not bad unless you were counting on talking with him more or you don’t like him resting his head on your shoulder.

~Sits in the middle of the bus, but closer to the back where his buddies are. Still, a bit further so that the noise they make is not right behind you. If the teacher doesn’t allow eating inside, he’s the first to ignore them. Not that anyone listens, but before your poor teacher can even finish the sentence, they get interrupted with the noise of him opening a bag of crisps. As they repeat themselves, he looks them dead in the eye and eats it. 

~Doesn’t cause as much trouble as one would think. When he's bored, he might tend to doze off and the group might accidentally lose him, so if you decide to take his hand in yours as a preventative measure, he’ll suddenly get into a wonderful mood.

~During free time, he lets you drag him around as you wish, hell, he’ll follow you around whether you suggest it or not. But he’ll demand that you visit a cafe/vending machine/restaurant every hour or less. If you don’t want to go and suggest that you just split, he’d be so offended. Like how dare you-

~Will literally pull out the offended gumball

~But aside from that, he doesn’t have any special wishes so it’s up to you where you go. 

~If you’re going into the mountains for a part of the trip, he’ll be extremely dissatisfied, but at the same time, he’d be having no difficulties. If you end up having them, he’d laugh at you for a minute, but he’ll effortlessly help you in any trouble. God forbid someone else mocks you though, because he’d be ready to push them down the slope. 

~Does not listen to the tour guide to save his life. The moment they start speaking, he turns his face to you or any of his friends and starts talking, completely deaf to the teacher’s reminders. 

~If you have a different gender than him, then you won’t be able to sleep in the same room in the hotel. However, that doesn’t mean you won’t be spending time together, because he’d absolutely drag you to his or invite himself into yours until he gets kicked out by the teachers. 

~He would 100% be the type to get up at 2am with the sole purpose of making himself some jelly and accidentally wake up his roommates.  

~But at the same time, he’d probably only pack the basics of the basics like a shirt and pants, toothbrush and shampoo. The rest of his suitcase would be filled with food. So he may or may not end up wearing some shirt or hoodie of yours if it happens to be big enough. 

~Only takes photos if there’s something really worth keeping in his memory forever, like the view from a high mountain you just climbed, a beautiful aquarium with stingrays and sharks, y/n’s sleeping face, mysterious dungeon of mediaeval ruins, y/n’s amazed face-

~Not very enthusiastic about going souvenir shopping, but the moment you enter the shop, he’s in five places at once, pointing at everything that catches his eye and buys at least a half of it. 

~But then ends up attached to this stuff and only gives it to his friends and family two months later after he got bored with it. -.-

Nahoya

~You might run into him and his brother while they shop for stuff for the trip and then you’ll get dragged to accompany them, which is nice because you’ll be able to get your own shopping done while being able to get opinions from someone else.

~He doesn’t have much issue with packing and arriving on time. He’ll be there maybe a few minutes before the departure. But he’s 100% one of the menaces in the back and aims to get the seats in the back so that you and his brother can sit together. He’s willing to beat up someone if there’s a need. 

~He’s not particularly loud if the situation doesn’t call for it. He’ll especially tone down if either you or Souya are asleep.

~You’re eating a full course meal over there, cause even if there aren’t small tables attached to the seat, there’s more space than if there were only the two of you, which gives you the opportunity to trade food even better.

~Most of the time passes by telling each other stories from your life, chatting, chilling, bickering or just doing your own thing. His grin is even bigger because he secretly likes how close you are but I dunno if you would cause his hair would probably tickle you a bit

~Kinda like Mikey, he barely acknowledges the presence of teachers and just does his own thing. Maybe if the tour guide manages to catch his interest? I imagine he’d perk up at a mention of some dark local legends or a famous battle happening nearby and the guide would glance at this grinning guy when he explained more gruesome details and visibly sweat

The guide: 👀

 Nahoya: 😁

~When it comes to free time, along with his brother he’d want to try a local ramen shop. Aside from that, everything is up to you. Even if you passed the shop that caught your eye like an hour ago. Doesn’t matter. Better than standing there doing nothing. 

~So you set out for an adventure and it all went well until you encountered some delinquents who seemed to have beef with your boyfriend. They were shouting something about him beating them up in the 2nd grade and then he beat them up again. 

~And you managed to find the adorable souvenir shop you were looking for! Great! Now find the way back to the meeting spot.

~When it comes to more physical activities, everyone will think that Nahoya is having a blast on the mountain trail, considering his wide smile. But only you and his brother will be close enough to hear the constant bouquets of curses coming like sparks from between his clenched teeth.

~In the hotel… It’s not much different from others. It’s either you or them who absolutely forget about having their own room if you have opposite genders. Nahoya will shamelessly get his suitcase into your room and make himself comfortable there, going as far as putting his clothes into the wardrobe and his toothbrush on the sink (gets kicked out either by your roommates or by the teachers)

~Would probably hold you from behind with his head on your shoulder while you mind your own business if he’s quite tired, if not, you can always play games and chat or a legendary pillow fight might occur. You never know. 

~As for zoo time, I feel like he’d spent a lot of time with the monkeys ‘cause he liked how fun they were. But then you probably dragged him to the flamingo exhibit to compare the colours and make fun of him like “look, I finally see where you got your inspiration for hair colour from” and then you had to make a run for it. 

~Loses his shit in the butterfly house over butterflies constantly landing on his hair. There were so many of them thinking that his afro was some kinda flower, at some point, he just gave up. And you got the once-in-a-lifetime chance to take a photo like this, it probably ended up as your wallpaper. 

~You spend the ride back reviewing the photos you took, comparing the souvenirs and rating the best and worst moments. 

~I am defending with my life that they are probably some of the funniest people to be around.

Senju

~She’s the kind of a person who’s so excited she’s already packed two weeks prior and takes you shopping for food, mosquito repellent, wet tissues and other things that might come in handy. Although she’ll also try to buy all kinds of unnecessary stuff so it’s up to you to stop her. Or not, but then she’ll need not a single suitcase, but at least two. 

~One of the earliest to arrive because she just couldn’t contain herself. Gets on the bus and saves a seat for you. Also sits near the back, but doesn’t mind sitting closer to the front if you want to. Or, if her dear brothers slow things down, she might be a bit late and very dissatisfied about it. 

~You spend the ride mostly chatting or playing some travel games with her. On the stops, she drags you to explore the gas station and the area nearby, even though there’s rarely anything to see.  During these few hours of the ride, you have plenty of time to catch up on everything you might have forgotten to say or even watch a movie/serial together. And you’d do that cute couple thing with sharing the earphones <3

~Basically jumps out of the bus the moment you’re at the destination. Although she barely listens to the guide, she has literal stars in her eyes when looking around the unknown city and constantly asks the adults about when the free time will be. 

~And when it comes, she’ll go with you wherever you want first and then, you guessed it! She’ll drag you around the whole place but somehow won’t get lost. Idk how. And when it’s time to go back, your friends will be like, “We went to a cafe and then bought some souvenirs” and then you’d be like “We went shopping, found an amusement park, went on a rollercoaster ride, ate cotton candy,  then went on a cruise where we befriended a guy who had his birthday today so we gave him some of our souvenirs and he invited us to his birthday party so we went there, ate some cake and met senju’s brother’s friend’s cousin who offered us a ride back here. So here we are”

~And she didn’t even get tired after all of that. The stamina.

~If you get to share a room, prepare for everything, cause you won’t be getting any sleep at all. Face masks! Movies! Games! Gossip! Snacking! Cuddles! There’ll be a little bit of everything so you sure as hell won’t be bored even for a minute. 

~Refuses to acknowledge the fact that she has her own bed. When the teachers come to see if everyone’s in their beds, she’ll lay in hers, but 0,0001sec after they’re gone, she’s climbing into yours and clinging to you. 50/50 chances that you might fall from the bed in the middle of the night. 

~In the zoo, it’s similar to the city, she’s running everywhere. And when I say running, I mean RUNNING. Because the place is big, and there’s not enough time to see everything, so she figured out that the faster you move, the more you see. 

~Photo booth! She’s dragging you to the first one she sees but cannot choose the background she wants so she ends up going for several and they all have her making stupid faces. 

~And yes, she’s buying LOTS of souvenirs. Honestly, it’s so hard not to get infected with her enthusiasm at some point. Until the exhaustion hits, that is.

~She’s a bit calmer in places such as museums or galleries. It’s kinda cute to watch her stare at a modern painting, trying to make sense of it. She’s absolutely touching everything, though. Even if it’s not allowed, she’ll find a way to touch it so that no one sees. And if it’s some kind of “touch everything” exhibit? You’re sure as heck she IS going to touch every. single. thing. 

~Too tired to be sad it’s over. Asleep for most of the ride back.

Hanma

~Like Mikey, only going because you’re going. Can come off unprepared at first glance, but it’s not like he needs “all of this mess” in the first place as he put it. He didn’t take any coat, cuz he rarely gets cold. Didn’t take mosquito repellent because they barely bother him. Didn’t take sun cream cause he rarely gets burnt etc etc. He probably “accidentally” didn’t take his hair brush either, cuz he remembered that one time you said he looked hot with messy hair. 

~Shows up JUST IN TIME. Like, you’re standing there, worrying that he’s almost late and he suddenly appears behind you, putting his hands on your eyes with a “guess who~ ❤️”.  Doesn’t like sitting near the window for some reason and insists that you take it. Biggest menace in the back, probably does the thing where he puts down his back seat annoying the hell outta the person behind him. 

~Mostly passes the ride by annoying others, singing/blasting most random songs, chatting, eating and grinning smugly when you fall asleep on his shoulder. 

~The moment he gets off the bus, you know that nothing good’s gonna happen from the way he stretches, looks around and grins at you. During the city tour, he’s mostly on his phone and only ever speaks to annoy the adults. They probably made him walk in front right next to them because they were so fed up with him after he went to buy a funny hat while no one was looking. You were actually standing in place because the guide was talking about something + the pace was rather slow, so he would most likely get away with it, had the teachers not decided to count the students at that exact time. You tried texting him, but it was too late.”

~In the end, he managed to free himself saying that you’ll keep an eye on him and they bought it since they were absolutely fed up with Hanma’s babbling after an hour or so. 

~Bro is LONG so physical activities are no biggie for him. He likes a challenge and if you have a problem, he’ll make fun of you (he’s literally ready to carry you on his back if there’s a need) until it comes to squeezing in between the rocks. Suddenly, he’s not so amused anymore while having to constantly duck, squeeze his shoulders and crawl. 

~Is dead set on ruining every photo you take. You never see it coming either. You want him to take a photo of you with a beautiful panoramic view behind you? Sure! He’ll even instruct you to move a bit and then right before taking a photo, he’ll tell you a hilarious joke or a funny situation from his life and then takes the ugliest shot of your face you have ever seen and refuses to delete it then as you get back he has it printed, framed and hung in his room (you throw it away the moment you come over and see it) or when you just want to take a selfie and he appears from nowhere in dumb sunglasses and even dumber smile the very moment you take it. 

~You’d think he’d be more enthusiastic during free time, but he doesn’t really have anywhere he wants to go and just follows you around. Ah yeah, you forgot that all of the time is free time for him. That being said, he’s chill most of the time, maybe suggests a bar if it looks cool enough. He’d pull you into a side alley for an intense make out session for shits and giggles.

~Another one to camp in your hotel room. Or even better, he’ll drag you to his own entirely so that he can go shower saying that he’ll be back in a second only to come out with wet hair and only a towel around his waist to see your reaction.

~You’d probably play some fun games together or watch something while commenting on it and cuddling. And no, he does not care about his disgusted roommates. He is going to latch himself onto you no matter the position you sit/lay in. 

~Probably tried to sneak into your room after bed hours. Like, legit opened the window in his (if we’re talking about ground level rooms) after the teachers checked everything and got his roommates to cover for him and say that he’s in the bathroom while he texted you to open yours and sneaked in to sleep with you. He probably got away with it as well. 

~He’d absolutely want to feed the piranhas in the zoo. Like, he’d watch the worker with shiny eyes and torment them until they let him even if it’s not exactly allowed. Same goes for feeding the goats and petting the horses. He’d be jumping over fences and running from security but he’s absolutely petting everything that’s pettable. 

~Starts screaming when he reads on a terrarium label about a “mountain chicken” and there’s a frog inside. Goes as far as to bother random strangers and ask them whether they see a chicken or a frog. 

~Probably got bitten by a llama.

[macfrog]

faire l'amour sex on fire chapter five

alright babies. grab the nearest museum tour guide, don your finest gumball machine jewelry, strap into your lifejackets and get ready to fall in love in paris - we go again one last time. i could've written about these two in france forever; i kinda want them to retire together and just move to europe and live out their days drinking good wine and baking in the sun. anyways hope u enjoy love u bye!!! 💘

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: it’s your last day away with joel. impulses are getting harder to control, feelings are getting harder to hide, and secrets are threatening to spill over…

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalanced power dynamic, sugardaddy!joel, cursing, mention of oral (m receiving), ostentatious displays of wealth, probably inaccurate french language, jean-marc makes reader feel uncomfortable, some objectification, alcohol consumption, protective!joel, lil bit of fluff, teasing and excessive flirting obv, a Totally Not Romantic boat trip, reader (nervously) shares personal stuff with joel, themes of heartbreak and guilt, reader sort of panics/spirals a little again, daddy kink, facesitting (f receiving), assplay/fingering, softdom!joel, unprotected piv sex, creampie, angst?? kinda??

word count: 9.4k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs. You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears. “Sit,” he instructs. You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move. “Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

The suite is drowned a milky blue in the morning light. The sky is white – cloud cover as far as you can see. You tug your robe tighter around your body and turn from the window, rounding the bed to join Joel in the bathroom. He’s in the shower, humming some song you’re distantly sure played that night in the dive bar.

You’re meeting Jean-Marc in an hour, in the penthouse of his hotel. He owns four across the city. Joel has told you three things so far: he’s pretentious, he’s a little in your face, and he’s always wearing a blue velvet robe.

He hasn’t told you much more than that.

You click your toothbrush on, and it whirs around your jaw for all of ten seconds before cutting out. Your thumb presses the button twice more, pulling it out of your mouth to find the red light at the base of the handle blinking. Like it’s snickering at you.

“Fuck,” you moan, head tilting back.

“’s wrong?” Joel asks, stepping out of the shower and reaching for his towel.

“My toothbrush just died. Do you have a charger with you?”

He shakes his head, wrapping the towel low over his hips.

“You didn’t bring a toothbrush charger?”

Joel walks around you, eyes never leaving yours in the steamy-edged reflection of the mirror until he’s by your side, when you watch him glance down to you. “Is my toothbrush the one that’s dead, baby?”

You sigh, sliding the brush across the marble countertop.

“Here,” Joel says, chuckling, “just use mine.”

“Uh,” you hold a hand up, grimacing, “no, thanks. Gross.”

“What?”

“You want me to use your toothbrush? That you’ve already used? In my mouth?”

“Same mouth you had wrapped around my dick half an hour ago?”

You stare him down in the mirror, jaw slack with shock, eyes thin. Trying to form words, but he’s smiling so cockily, so amused by the look on your face. He’s proud of that one, ain’t he?

You slap his arm away but snatch the toothbrush from his hand without a word, loading it with toothpaste and flicking the button.

Joel laughs again, nose nudging into your hair as he hooks around you, dappling kisses up your neck, still sticky from the shower. “You look hot when you’re pissed.”

Your words, though muffled by the white, minty foam, are clear enough that they make him laugh even harder. “Fuck off.”

Finding an outfit you think appropriate for breakfast with one of Joel’s rich friends – is Jean-Marc a friend? You don’t know enough about him to call it – whilst also staying in the realm of professional work trip is tough. You want to look nice, look…Parisian, but also look personal assistant. And definitely, definitely avoid looking I’m-sleeping-with-my-boss, by the way.

You settle for a deep red floral dress, split hem running just above your knees, and a pair of white heels that wrap around your ankles. Joel approves, judging by the placement of his hands when he appears behind you in the mirror. You lean back into him as he lifts your skirt, running a light touch up the inside of your thigh, a low growl passing his lips when his fingers meet your lace –

The suite phone jolts you back to reality. Joel sighs, shifting off to answer it.

“Yep?” he says into the receiver. Car’s here, he mouths to you. “Alright, thank you, ma’am.”

He nods toward the door and you follow after him, swinging a clutch under your arm and giving your hair one last toss in the mirror.

“What’s he like?”

“Huh?”

You lean back against the elevator wall, watching the rustic arrow arch across the floors of the hotel. “Jean-Marc. Aside from the blue robe and pretentiousness, what should I expect?”

He clears his throat. Sniffs. “Uh,” he scratches the bridge of his nose, “he’s fine. He’s…You’ll do fine. Don’t overthink it.”

Alright.

But Joel’s being weird. He’s silent when he ushers you into the back of the car, he forgets to put his hand on your thigh until you take his wrist and guide it there, and he doesn’t even hear you when you gasp and point out two white poodles on the street. He barely says a word until you’re being welcomed through a huge golden doorway into a regal penthouse suite, gleaming floors and decorative walls.

Very in-your-face. Very Jean-Marc, going by the little you know.

“Joelie!” he sings, coming over to meet you both with his hands out, shaking Joel’s and patting him roughly on his bicep.

He’s a small man – smaller than Joel, anyway. Hair more salt than pepper. Clean-shaven, pointed chin. And no blue robe, disappointingly. He’s just in a white shirt, unbuttoned far lower than you would’ve left it, had it been up to you, and smart blue trousers. A pair of patterned loafers, too, a huge gold buckle on the top of them.

Joel turns, robotically, to introduce you, and places a hand on the small of your back. You step forward into Jean-Marc’s open arms. He leans in, places a kiss to each cheek, and leans back out, almost like he’s surveying you. Up and down, and back up again. Joel’s hand doesn’t leave your back.

“You are the assistant,” Jean-Marc remarks, clapping his hands. “How beautiful! You are much too beautiful to be in such a boring job. Blegh.”

You laugh, not entirely sure why. Probably nerves. Sometimes it’s easier to laugh uncomfortable moments off, makes them pass quicker, though it pisses you off. Joel’s hand presses a little into your skin, you feel his fingers grip around the material of your dress.

“We are eating on the terrace.” Jean-Marc steps away, fingers snapping to beckon you both forward. “It has a fantastic view of the city, doesn’t it, Joel?”

Joel smiles, but doesn’t say anything. You fucking wish he would. Why is he so quiet?

You both follow Jean-Marc outside, sun peeking weakly through the clouds onto the paved patio, fenced by an intricate wrought iron railing, and covered in what looks like a jungle of vibrant green plants. He leads you over to a huge glass table, set with spotless white crockery and shining silver cutlery, wine glasses at each setting.

“Please,” he holds his hands out, “sit.”

Joel pulls one of the chairs out and looks to you, waiting for you to slide into it. When you do, you watch as he sits silently next to you. And then he finally fucking does it.

His hand slips onto your thigh under the table. Gives the top of your knee a gentle squeeze. The relief washes over you like waves of cold water on a scorching day. Your lungs fill with air and your shoulders relax.

“So, you have worked for Joel for…how long?” Jean-Marc asks, pouring his first glass of wine. He holds the bottle up to you and Joel and you both hold your palms up in unison, opting for the freshly squeezed orange juice instead.

You answer politely – you answer all of his questions politely, with a tight smile on your lips that hurts when you hold it for too long. He asks what you do for Joel, whether you like it much, how you’re finding your trip to Paris. All the while, Joel sits beside you, feeling more stone than human, observing, listening and grunting in answer anytime Jean-Marc makes reference to him.

On your host’s second glass of wine, a flurry of waiters in all white spawn from the penthouse and lay dishes of extravagant food before you. Eggs benedict is about the only thing you recognize, aside from the toast in the rack in the middle of the table, and a bowl of fresh cut fruit beside it.

A tall, black-haired assistant swings over to Jean-Marc when he clicks his fingers, craning around the old man like a raven perched on his shoulder.

“Ce serait bien d’avoir un joli visage comme celui-ci travailler avec nous, non?” Jean-Marc utters in the man’s ear, and they laugh. A little too hard. Laughter that hits your ear like a foul ball.

You decide to break your porcelain polite smile, laughing with the two men. The tall man straightens and glides off behind the table, and Jean-Marc wipes the corners of his mouth before turning to you.

“So,” he says again, another question approaching, “what did you study? At university?”

“Business management,” you reply neatly, lifting your glass.

Jean-Marc’s head wobbles in a nod as he cuts into his meal.

“And French.”

Joel chokes into his glass of orange juice. “Sorry,” he sputters, coughing into his fist, covering a laugh. “Sorry.”

You mask your own smile behind your drink, the sound of Joel choking on his juice making your shoulders shudder with a giggle which escapes in short bursts through your nose.

Jean-Marc’s eyebrows rise, amused and…fascinated. “Even better, hm?”

Joel’s still clearing the orange juice from his airway. Patting his lips with his own napkin. He pauses and his hands fall to his lap when Jean-Marc asks, “Where have you been hiding her, Joel?”

You wince. It’s a gross question, it is. And you know Joel thinks so, too, maybe even worse by his reaction. He sucks in a deep, sudden breath, eyes narrowing toward Jean-Marc. His chest rises and falls abruptly, jaw clenches tight. And then his hand is back on your leg, and you quickly lay yours atop, softly squeezing it. It’s fine. It’s fine.

His thumb strokes your fingers lightly, but he doesn’t react more than that. He doesn’t say much for the remainder of the meal, either. Just cuts pieces of egg and bacon roughly and – though this might just be you knowing him well enough – pretty aggressively, dragging them off of his fork with gritted teeth.

You keep up lighthearted conversation with Jean-Marc; the weather, your flight (at least the PG parts of it), how much of Paris you’ve seen since you landed. You study him when he’s not staring you down, watch the way his delicate fingers slice through his food, throwing it into his mouth in tiny pieces and humming to himself as he looks around at the skyline.

He’s like a mouse. Like some small creature with enough brains and quick wit to keep you on your toes. Everything is like a dance – you find yourself picking up on nuances in his conversation, words which point one way and yet, a shift in tone which points in the complete opposite.

It’s always when that tone shifts, and your eyebrows pull together, polite façade slipping some, that you find yourself leaning more into Joel. And he’s there each time. Steady as a rock, quiet, watchful and protective. A scent that comforts you, grounds you anytime you begin to feel yourself floating off with one of Jean-Marc’s stories.

“Madame,” a voice murmurs behind you, and you turn to find the raven man stood over you like a shadow. He hooks his fingers, nodding over to the edge of the terrace.

“Ah, yes,” Jean-Marc nods, “go, please. My assistant will be happy to show you the view. It is a panoramic view of Paris.”

You nervously stand, letting go of Joel’s hand. He watches you follow the tall figure over to the black railing, where he points to landmarks you’ve already seen from your own terrace. When his ghostly finger points out the Arc de Triomphe, you sneak a glance over your shoulder back to Joel.

Jean-Marc is now sat in your chair, leaning into Joel and talking at him. Chittering, like a bird in his ear. Joel’s face is flat, he looks thoroughly unimpressed at whatever the hell Jean-Marc’s saying. Looks pissed, if you’re honest.

Suddenly Jean-Marc leaps from the seat and claps his hands, announcing that he’d like to take you and Joel on a drive. But as soon as he’s finished the sentence, Joel’s broad figure is standing up to height beside him, towering over him.

“Actually, we, uh…we have other plans today. Maybe some other time.”

He nods quickly to you and you almost throw yourself to him in response. You collect your bag from the table and line yourself beside Joel, nodding graciously to Jean-Marc and thanking his assistant for showing you the view.

“Anytime,” Jean-Marc says, taking your free hand. “It was wonderful to meet you. I hope that we will again soon.”

Before you can respond, Joel’s dragging you off the terrace and through the penthouse, muttering, “Thanks,” as you pass more servers into the elevator again.

“What’s wr–?”

“Nothing,” he cuts in, exhaling when the doors close over. His stare won’t lift from the floor. “Nothing.”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

“I did tell you. It’s nothing.”

“Ooookay,” you reply, lifting your eyebrows. The elevator plummets; you both fall into silence with it. Joel’s shifting between feet, arms crossed, hands tightly squeezing into his upper arms.

“What’s next, then?” you ask, trying to crack him.

His shoulders rise with the breath he takes. “Nothing, baby.”

“Stop that. Answer me, Miller.”

A smile pulls at his lips. “I am answerin’. I got nothin’ for the rest of the day. I’m all yours.”

The elevator stops and slides open. Joel leads you out through the lobby, toward the front door through which you can see Denis’s car waiting.

“Then, why aren’t we flying home today? Why wait until tomorrow? I thought you had big work stuff all weekend.”

“Because. I didn’t wanna come here just to work. Why’d you think I brought you here, if I was just gonna work the entire time?”

You toss him a look and he laughs.

“Alright, no,” he says, opening the car door for you. “I wanted to spend time with you, darlin’.”

You scoff, settling in the backseat. “Hi, Denis!”

Denis nods in the mirror to you, cheeks plump with his warm smile, then looks to Joel. “Where to?”

Joel turns to you. Lifts his eyebrows, opens his hands.

“Wh–? Me?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “where d’you wanna go, pretty girl? We’ll do whatever you want.”

You stare at him, a little dumbfounded. But then he smiles again, so sincere, so gentle, and you fold.

Since you were a kid, old enough to hold a pencil, you drew. Crayon doodles of you and your mom stuck to the refrigerator turned to being hunched over a sketchbook in art class, wrist aching by the end of the day when you’d rush home with it between your fingers to show her what you’d drawn. And that turned to tiny sketchbooks you’d carry in your purse for when college became too boring, sneaking them out to draw the face of the professor, stern lines in black ink as she detailed the components of a business model. And that turned to an entire corner in your apartment dedicated to canvases and paints, sketching pencils and watercolor inks – your very own little studio for whenever you had the time.

It'd been on your bucket list probably since that first crayon made its way into your little hands. You imagined wandering around for the day, drinking in all the art, marveling at the size of some of the paintings, walking two, three times around the sculptures. Seeing the Mona Lisa.

“The Louvre?” you ask Joel, tilting your head.

“The Louvre, Denis,” he says, and takes your hand in his.

----------

It’s like a dream. You’re sure you’ve looped the same rooms twice, maybe three times over. And it still doesn’t feel real.

Joel’s been following you the whole time, his fingers intertwined with yours – watching as you lean as close as possible to each painting, eyes studying the detail intently, and then back again, taking it in in its entirety; pointing to the tiny plaques with the information on each piece, reading them to you as you muse over each one.

Your neck aches from turning all over the place as you walk around, looking from wall to wall, up to the ceiling panels, ornate in gold and bursting with colorful, dreamy paintings of the skies.

When you reach the Mona Lisa, you queue for twenty minutes. Joel stands by your side the entire time, one arm comfortably slung around your back as you meander across the wooden floor toward the glass case. He asks you which piece has been your favorite so far; you tell him the one right after he almost got hit on the head by some kid with a selfie stick. He lowers his brows and shakes his head at the memory, and you hit his chest playfully, trying to conceal your laughter from his grumpy face.

When you reach the center of the painting, the enigmatic face staring straight back at yours, Joel taps your shoulder.

You spin around.

He’s holding his phone up, leaning back to get both you and the soft-smiling face behind you in shot.

“Joel,” you laugh, and he waves his hand.

“Smile,” he tells you.

And you do. You prop one elbow on the wooden barrier, lean in to the frame like you’re snapping a pic with a best friend, and push your cheeks up. The camera shutter sound echoes from his phone, and he brings it down, checking over the picture.

“Cheesy,” you mutter, leaning in to get a better look at your upside-down face.

“She’s beautiful,” he replies with a smirk, scooping you off to round the room toward the exit.

You glance back at the Mona Lisa, arm linking with Joel’s. “She is, right?”

He doesn’t respond. When you turn back, he’s smiling to himself, eyes on the floor.

You click alongside him in your heels, weaving between tourists taking photos and guides showing groups of wide eyes and slack jaws around. As you pass them, Joel leans in close to you.

“I don’t wanna take you away from all this,” he utters, “but I got somethin’ booked for us.”

“Somethin’ booked?”

He nods. Hands you a guilty look, and asks, “Mind if we call it a day?”

You shake your head, a little more enthusiastically than you meant to, but you’re trying to tell him you don’t mind. At all. Whatsoever. He’s paid for this entire trip, and apparently has more instore. What you feel right now is the complete opposite of minding.

You let him take you back up the escalators and out of the museum.

Denis sits by the curb, waiting for you both like he always is. He drives you, hand in hand, around the city to the edge of the Seine, where Joel leads you out of the car and begins strolling down the riverside.

The early evening sun bounces along the water, reflecting ochre and amber in gentle ripples. Your arms cross over one another, hands rubbing the cold skin above your elbows, and without a word, Joel pulls his jacket off and sits it loose over your shoulders.

“Thanks,” you whisper, as he wanders along beside you. “So, where we goin’?”

“You’ll see,” he says, smiling. “You really loved it in there, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nod, nudging into him, “thank you for taking me.”

“Didn’t know you were artsy. You knew your stuff.”

“You don’t know a lot about me, do you?”

There’s something in his eyes when he looks back at you. Words behind them that he thinks twice about letting slip. Instead, he says, “You keep surprisin’ me.”

You’re walking under the shade of a line of trees, benches sat in between each trunk holding couples enjoying the view, families snapping photos. You turn to watch a couple of kids run by, hoping that by the time you turn back, your cheeks are a little less red.

“Hm,” you muse, “I always wanted to be an artist. A painter. Wanted to sell my stuff, make money turning people into portraits. It was my stupid little pipedream.”

“’s not stupid. Not a pipedream, either.”

“You haven’t seen my stuff.”

“Alright, then show it to me.”

You scoff, tightening your grip around your body. “Maybe. Maybe when we’re back home.”

“Holdin’ you to it.”

You smirk, brushing the hair out of your face. “What’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your pipedream. You wanted to be a businessman your whole life?”

Joel’s eyes are fixed on the pathway in front, widening a little as he nervously laughs. “I, uh…Not my whole life, no.”

“What was it before, then?”

He seems to stiffen. Runs his fingers through his hair, unglues his eyes from the ground and looks across the water. “Me ‘n my…my brother, we had this idea to buy a ranch. Raise sheep, cattle, few horses maybe. Out in the country, y’know? Looked into a few places, but…I guess life got in the way.”

Joel Miller, a farmer. Moreover, Joel Miller, a brother. How come, in three years of knowing him better than most, you never knew he had a brother?

He answers awkwardly when you ask. “Just don’t see ‘im much, is all. He lives out west.”

His gaze falls again and you know that’s as much as you’re going to be able to draw from him. Know he’s keeping that particular card close to his chest.

You turn back to the view ahead, eyes flitting from bench to bench as you pass, catching on something in the distance. Something small, red, tucked behind one of the uniform trees. The glass sphere atop it shines in the wilting sunlight.

“Hey.” You take Joel’s elbow, dragging him over to it.

“A gumball machine? What are you, ten?”

“’s not gumballs. It’s a lucky draw. Like, toys ‘n stuff.”

“Alright, what are you, five? C’mon.”

You stay where you’re standing, crouched to look inside the glass dome at the small multicolored balls, each one filled with a tiny prize. “Joooel,” you groan, and he turns back.

“Baby, we’re gonna be–”

“You said we do whatever I want. I want a fuckin’ toy outta the French gumball machine.”

His lips widen, ready to say something back, and then he thinks better of it. You know him, and, equally, he knows you. You won’t walk away from this damn machine, no matter what he says.

“You know what…?” He steps forward, fishing in his pocket for change. “I notice I’m payin’ again, by the way. First the jukebox, now this.”

You clear your throat, lower your voice, and mimic his Southern drawl, repeating what he said in the Gucci store yesterday. “All expenses paid, baby.”

Joel lifts a finger, pointing at you. His voice is short. A warning. “Cut that.”

He slots a euro in the silver contraption and steps back, holding a hand out for you to do the heavy lifting. You leap forward, twist the lever, and a small red ball rolls down the chute, falling into your open hands.

For a man who wasn’t interested in the machine ten seconds ago, Joel leans in pretty quick to watch you pop open the plastic ball.

“A ring!” you exclaim, slipping the ruby ring from its globe and holding it up in the light.

“It’s plastic. It’s a plastic kids ring.”

You slap his chest. “I like it.”

Joel shakes his head and takes your wrist, pulling you further along the river’s edge as you survey the newest addition to your jewelry collection. It’s tiny – he’s not wrong about that – and it only just fits on your pinkie finger, but you wear it proudly as you follow him along the cobbled pathway to…

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Joel turns, smug grin on his face. “Nope!” he calls, stepping down onto the bank to a private fucking boat.

“You have a jet and a boat? Tryna kill the planet one form of transportation at a time, aren’t you, Miller?”

He snorts, helping you down alongside him. “I rented it, and you’re fuckin’ welcome. Thought it’d be a nice way to end the trip.”

“It is nice,” you concede, feeling a little embarrassed. “It is. I’m just…You said I keep surprising you.”

He holds his arm out as you step over the edge of the varnished wooden boat, wobbling a little when you land. A man in a navy button up greets you, shows you down a couple steps where there’s a white leather couch and a table, bucket of champagne sat on top.

“Damn…” you whisper, feeling Joel’s weight behind you.

“We can get back off, though, if you wanna go play some more with the gumball machine.”

You roll your head back to look at him and he smiles. Gleeful. Like a little kid.

Probably like you did, when you uncovered your ruby ring.

Different strokes for different folks.

Joel settles back against the leather couch and you stand, looking down at him for a second before he’s gesturing you to join. The boat sets off as you shuffle in beside him, leaning back until your body’s encased in his, his arm wrapped around your waist, hands interlinked at your tummy.

You lean your head back against his shoulder, watching Paris sail by, feeling the cool breeze as it whips across the surface of the river and lands gently on your face, and smelling Joel all over you. It’s peaceful. It’s quiet, and it’s still, and it’s…totally not romantic at all.

None of this should be romantic. None of it should have your heart skipping beats, praying Joel can’t feel them through his fucking coat still on your shoulders.

So why does your breath catch when he leans down and quietly asks if you’re okay?

“Yeah,” you say in a choked voice, feeling his beard scratching your ear. “I’m g–I’m good.”

You’re thankful when he gives you something else to think about, in the form of a question: “You like the view from Jean-Marc’s terrace?”

Your shoulders jerk with a laugh. “Ha. It’s not as nice as ours.”

“Nah. That assistant guy say much to ya?”

“No. Why would he?”

Joel shrugs. “No reason.”

He says it like there is a reason, though. Like your answer caught him off guard. He was expecting you to say something else.

You draw shapes in the palm of his hand. “You gonna tell me what Jean-Marc said to you yet?”

“Nope. None of your business, pretty girl.”

You smile. “He was alright, you know. Bit on the nose, but he had a cool outfit. Cool plants, too.”

You feel the rumble of Joel’s response on your back – the way his chest vibrates with the noise he makes. A typical Joel grumble, a Yeah, but also no. There’s a tension between you two, some sort of roadblock with the name Jean-Marc scrawled into it. It feels awkward, and sticky, and those are things you’ve never felt before with Joel.

His fingers are twirling the ruby ring on your finger, round and round. Your eyes fix on the way the sun lights the plastic gem, burning it into your corneas before your brain finally forces something out in attempt to break that weird wall down.

“Bet Martha hangs me out to dry for this when we get back,” you snort, “I can hear her now: Two different rings off a’ two different men!”

Joel’s fingers stop. You feel his cheek turn, his jaw brushing against the side of your head.

“Two rings?” he asks.

Fuck. Wrong thing to say. Fuck.

“I, uh…You know. That was just a joke.”

“What d’you mean two different men?”

Fuck fuck fuck.

“I meant, like…I meant…”

You sigh and sit up straight. You meant what you said before: there’s a lot Joel doesn’t know about you. One huge thing in particular, that you only happened to share with Martha one night after Joel had left the office – the two of you working late, checking off a to-do list the length of your arm and relying on caffeine to stay awake. Sharing stories and secrets in the dark office, freeing skeletons you figured you’d never have the guts to let roam in daylight.

Well, you just hammered the whole closet down. Accidentally.

“If I tell you this, it’s between us, okay?”

Joel clasps his hands. Nods once. “And Martha.”

“…Yeah, and Martha. Whatever. She doesn’t know very much about it, anyways. But no one else. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“’cause I don’t like to talk about it much.”

“Baby. I got it.”

The words are drawn from your lips like blood from a stone. They’re heavy, come tumbling out of your mouth like they’re made of lead.

“I…I was…engaged. Years ago.”

“Right.” Joel points to your ruby ring. “I got that much from the rings part.”

You sigh again. Why is this so fucking hard? It’s only Joel.

But then: it’s Joel.

“Not for long, or anything. It was a kind of high school sweetheart thing. We were together for, like, six years – all through senior year and college. Blake Carter. He studied, um, computer science. And on the night we graduated, he proposed. Right on campus, right on the quad. Had this big diamond ring, I think it was his grandma’s, or something.”

“And you said yes?”

“Well, I– Yeah, I said yes.”

Somewhere in the conversation, you’ve leaned back down, back against Joel’s body. Head turned into him, eyes scanning the riverbank, watching the buildings and the trees and the people pass by. You barely even notice until he shifts, clears his throat, and asks:

“’n then…it ended?”

“I ended it. Two days later, I…ended it,” you repeat, with a certain nod. A definite nod, like you’re still trying to convince yourself that yeah, you ended it, and yeah, it was the right thing to do. All these years later.

“Why?” he asks, earnestly. There’s no judgement in his voice, no prying. He just wonders.

“Um…” You shift now, tossing answers over in your head before you land on one that makes you think fuck it. “Just…realized I was more turned on by the degree in my hand than I was by the man on one knee in front of me.”

It draws a laugh from Joel’s lips. A laugh that vibrates through his chest, through your back, and pulls a smile across your lips.

“I was,” you say, holding back a nervous giggle, “I know that’s bad, but I was.”

“And you said yes to ‘im anyway?”

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Said yes in the moment ‘cause I didn’t wanna look like an asshole, but…well, you’re an asshole either way, aren’t you?”

“Sure,” Joel mumbles, and you almost slap him playfully. But then he says, “You’re an asshole,” with a sarcastic dryness, and you realize he’s not teasing, he’s disagreeing. Genuinely disagreeing.

You sit up again and turn to face him. “I’m not an asshole if I say no to someone asking me to marry them?”

He’s just as defensive as you are. “Not if you don’t want to. What’s asshole about that?”

“Joel, he was on his knees with a ring in his hand.”

“And you didn’t want to marry him. Big deal. I’m sure he found some other girl who wanted that ring on her finger instead, didn’t he?”

You scoff, turning away to look out over the water. He’s being blunt about it, a little uncalled for, but he’s not wrong. You tell him as much.

“He married some girl I don’t know. All I know is she works at some firm, and now they have a son. I check his Facebook every now and then. They just got back from Hawaii with his parents. He cut his foot on something at the beach.”

Joel keeps up the sarcasm. “Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.”

There are a million thoughts racing through your head. More you want to tell him; more you feel the need to confess. More to justify what you did, more to explain yourself and convince him that, sure, you broke Blake’s heart, but now he has a wife and a kid, and he seems happier. And you’re happier, too, so it wasn’t that bad after all.

But Joel doesn’t expect it of you. None of it. He doesn’t make any snide remarks, doesn’t ask questions that frame it as if it were all just one big bout of insane impulsivity. Just accepts what you’ve told him, takes it in with a nod of his head, and then stops talking about it.

He’s so fucking nonchalant it drives you crazy. Everything just is what it is.

Defeated, tired, and quite frankly stunned by how little anything you say seems to bother him, you quietly stare at the water, the yellow orbs of light from the street above bobbing in the black reflection.

Then Joel takes a deep breath, squeezes your knee and asks, “Wanna go get some dinner?”

“Yeah,” you nod gratefully, “that’d be nice.”

It’s a short walk back to the hotel once you’re off the boat – back along the riverside and down a couple of small, quiet streets. Joel holds your hand the entire time and, when you complain about them hurting, carries your heels for you.

Your eyes stay glued to the sidewalk, watching your shadow as you pass under orange streetlights. Your figure, barefoot, skirt swaying as you walk, hand linked to Joel’s, his frame taller and wider, a pair of heels dangling from his right hand.

He orders room service. You vote for pizza, and within twenty minutes, Joel’s bringing it through to where you lay on the bed, already stripped down, makeup wiped off, wrapped in your bathrobe. He made you put the Bart Simpson socks back on. Said they were the comfiest ones you own, baby, he’d chuckled. They’re rolled halfway up your leg, his impish grin on full display.

You pick up a slice of pizza as Joel scrolls through the channels on the TV, eventually settling for American Pie before he lays back alongside you. You blow on the piping hot cheese and take a bite.

“Nice?” Joel asks.

“Mhm,” you reply, hand coming up to cover your mouth. “’s hot.”

He leans over and hits a switch on the wall above the bed, drowning you both in the dull dusk seeping in from outside – aside from the screen which lights Joel’s face in a pale white, like moonlight. There’s a wash of warm light creeping in from the hallway, futilely clawing its way across the walls by the bedroom door but dying on the beige surface when it meets the glow of the TV. Like the sun and the moon blending together. Like day and night mixing right in front of you.

When you’ve had enough pizza, Joel shifts the golden tray from the bed onto the floor, flopping back down on the springy mattress with a sigh. You lay back, upper arm brushing against his, cheek leaning on the tip of his shoulder. It jumps every now and then whenever something funny happens onscreen and Joel snickers. You’d be laughing, too, if you were paying attention, but Joel’s voice is still echoing around your ears.

Sounds like you’re missin’ out on a lot of fun there.

Sure. A lot of fun. Slipping that diamond ring onto your finger, and waiting for his grass-stained knees to lift him back up to you to kiss him on the mouth and say Yes over and over, and then run back to your friends and show off the ring and clink champagne glasses, and then go pick a huge, obnoxiously white dress that makes your mother cry and girls you haven’t spoken to since middle school comment on your Facebook posts –

Joel murmurs something with a laugh and your eyes find the screen again; Stifler just walked in on his mom and Finch. It holds your attention for all of three seconds, before you’re back to picturing maple trees swaying and his suit trousers stained green and thumbs on your knuckles and –

– and then meet him at the end of a ridiculously long aisle covered in rose petals, and swell with his kid inside you and raise it and convince yourself that you love it despite the puke and the piss and then stand bouncing it on your hip in an emergency room while it screams the fucking roof down, all the while your boring, bland husband has the sole of his foot sewn up after two weeks playing card games with his even more boring, bland parents and hearing about their neighbor’s new Prius and why it’s not actually any better for the environment, that’s just what the companies tell you to get their claws into you and –

“Baby, you–”

A whole lot of fucking fun.

“–okay?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

Joel’s sitting up. The film’s paused. He’s staring at you, eyebrows arched, hand on your arm.

“I’m fine,” you murmur.

He tugs on your arm and pulls you up to him, hand cupping your face as he studies you intently.

The sun’s setting outside, washing the sky a faded pink which dies out as it climbs higher. The city’s lights blink at you, like a million eyes peering in from a distance.

“Where’d you go?” he asks.

“Nowhere,” you lie.

“Went somewhere. You were starin’ off into space.”

“I didn’t go anywhere. I’m watchin’ the movie.”

But he’s looking from your lips to your eyes, passing across the bridge of your nose as he goes. And you can feel the heat from his body even through two layers of terrycloth, can practically feel his pulse through the huge, steady hands he has resting along your jaw. And there’s a feeling brewing in your stomach – like pain and hurt that mixes up and confuses itself for longing – which drifts further down until it’s an ache between your legs. And that feels easier to deal with, simpler to untangle. Especially when Joel’s right fucking here.

“Just…c’mere,” you breathe, pushing his shoulders back down onto the bed and leaning over him, legs parted.

You want him to fix it. Fix you. Use his hands, and his lips, and his body to make you better. Kiss away any memories of Blake, and that fucking ring, and the way his face twisted when you told him you were leaving. Do more than just kiss them away – tear them from your mind with his teeth on your skin, each mark he leaves just more evidence of your belonging to someone else, someone new.

Someone you wouldn’t recognize if you met her five years ago.

“Baby,” Joel whispers into your mouth, kissing you back as roughly as you’re kissing him. His hands come up to tangle in your hair, pulling you closer as you fumble with the belt of his robe and tug    it open.

His lip still on yours, he hauls the shoulders of your robe down, the curve of your breasts spilling out over the white fabric. You sit up and untie the belt, shaking it off yourself properly before you’re back on him, pulling his arms free from his sleeves and pinning them down on the mattress.

“Let me – fuck you,” you breathe, grinding your core down on his already bricked length.

Joel’s hands rest on your hips; he’s looking up at you almost awestruck. Words stopping short in his throat.

“Need to fuck you,” you repeat, cunt slipping around him. “Need it, daddy.”

“Alright, babygirl,” he says finally, hips moving in time with yours. There’s a look in his eye that makes you think he knows what you’re doing, understands every one of your thoughts and worries without need to voice them. “I got you. I’m all yours. Just – come here.”

His hands scoop under your ass, lifting you from his waist, and he tilts his chin up. Pushes on the back of your thighs, nudging you further up his body.

“Joel,” you breathe, and his fingers squeeze into your skin.

“Come – here,” he says, sterner. Eyes dark, flitting up and down your skin, settling between your legs.

You obey him, shuffling further up the mattress until you’re hovering over his face, knees digging into the cushion by his ears.

“Sit,” he instructs.

You stare blankly at him. Your body doesn’t move.

“Wanna taste you again, pretty girl,” he murmurs, eyes stuck on your wet core just inches from his lips. “Gonna make you feel better.”

He angles his jaw up again, almost like he’s desperately reaching out for your body, and this time, you meet him halfway. Widen your legs, lower your hips until his lips are on you, and you fold forward with a gasp.

Your left hand hits the mattress above his head, right lowers to grip his hair. Joel’s arms wrap around your thighs, a tight, inescapable hold as his mouth opens wider, tasting more and more of you with each stroke of his tongue.

His tongue which dips inside of you, collecting your slick and fucking you gently, soft and wet and warm. He’s groaning as he tastes you, a low moan which vibrates against your cunt and elicits a similar sound from the bottom of your throat.

You need this. You fucking need this. Need the distraction, need the attention. Need to push every thought out of your brain for five minutes, replace them with pure pleasure. Replace them with Joel.

You’re grinding, rutting against his mouth as your knees slacken, all of your weight held up by your one palm splayed out on the bed, fingers curling around the sheets as you’re edged closer and closer to your high by Joel’s lips.

His hands become rougher, moving up to hold your ass, squeezing the soft skin until he’s running his hands between your cheeks, fingers pushing on that same sensitive muscle as last night.

“Fuck–” You jolt with a gasp, head rolling back in pleasure, core rocking hard against his lips.

Joel mutters a, “’s okay, babygirl,” and cups his mouth around your clit. He nudges one finger against your tight hole, pushing in slowly, and that feeling overcomes you all over again – your body pulling him in, throbbing around him, cutting your breath short and shocking you motionless until he removes his finger.

You whine, opening your eyes and catching a hazy glimpse of the ceiling for one second before he’s inserting two fingers, tight together, drawing a loud cry from your lips.

“’attagirl,” he mumbles against your cunt, only coming up for air long enough to utter that one word before his lips are back on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue across the sensitive bud as his fingers push deeper.

You pant, whimper a weak, “Daddy…” while Joel moves faster. “’m gonna cum,” you whisper, and you feel him nod under your vice grip, encouraging you to fall.

Your hips move in time with your chest, heaving with the breaths escaping your lips as he pulls you down harder, heavier on his mouth. He’s fucking covered – beard soaked in your arousal, swollen lips pressed against yours, moving, kissing, fucking you so good you start to feel lightheaded.

“Keep – going – daddy, fuck, yeah…”

The feeling starts between your shoulder blades. A sparkling, tickling feeling, creeping up your neck and wrapping around your body, warm and snug. Running across your bare chest, focusing on your hard nipples, and then plummeting down between your legs like a bullet, coming to a climax right where Joel’s lips are.

You scream out, your right hand forced from his dark hair to hold yourself up as your orgasm bears down on you. Your hips grind against his mouth, rocking back and forth as your body is overcome with sensation, with pleasure, with him.

Joel moans beneath you, your soaking cunt all over his tongue, giving you both what you each should’ve had yesterday, before he cut it short.

You figure he’ll never do that again. Never deprive you of it again, never deprive himself of it again. The sounds he’s making, the way his jaw shudders around you, it’s like he’ll never again be able to go a day in his life without tasting you, without feeling you contract on top of him, your sweet release washing over him like an oasis.

And you figure you won’t, either. Won’t ever stop thinking about this feeling, replaying it over and over in your mind. Your legs draped over his shoulders, his face beneath you. His hand massaging your ass, fingers curving somewhere deep inside you. Dragging your hips across his open mouth, his nose bumping gently on your clit as you come down.

Your orgasm fading into gentle ripples of pleasure, Joel slips his fingers out of you and you push yourself off of him, sliding back down until you’re straddling his naked waist again. His hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass when you settle.

“That better?” he asks, voice rough and strained. “You get what you needed?”

“Mhm,” you moan, flicking your hips and running your sensitive folds up and down his shaft.

In an instant, he’s got you in his arms, flipping you over and throwing you down on your back, bouncing on the soft mattress beneath you.

With a squeal, you take hold of his shoulders, smiling as he lowers his jaw and trails wet kisses along your neck, stopping when his lips line with your ear.

“Gonna let me do my job now, pretty girl?”

“Yeah, daddy,” you purr as he lines up. He’s so fucking turned on, so hard that you’ll be surprised if he lasts two minutes.

But then he pushes in, slow, and you realize he’s not looking just to cum. He’s not chasing any kind of high. He wants to feel you, wants you to feel him, too. He wants to really fuck you. Properly. If you were reading into it any deeper than just sex, you’d swear he wanted to answer your silent request. You’d swear he wanted to fuck the pain away.

You both groan, your wet soaking him, his thickness already pushing you open before he’s even halfway inside. He holds you steady by the hips, filling you up inch by inch, your back curling more and more the further he goes until you’re chest to chest and full of him.

You’re so tight, and he’s so fucking big, that feeling him inside you at this angle steals the air straight from your lungs. Your mouth lies open in a silent moan, your brows knitted together.

“Take it, baby,” he groans, arms scooping around your shoulders as he starts to slowly pump in and out. His expression mirrors yours. “Know you can take it all.”

“Joel – fuck – daddy – right there,” you’re whimpering, forehead stuck to Joel’s, eyes flitting from his lips to his dark lashes.

“Yeah?” he pants.

“Yeah,” you repeat, “keep doing that.”

His hips drive deeper, still hitting the same spot, same pace, only harder, with more weight behind it, sending you into a dizzy blur of pleasure and pain. He takes one of your hands in his, lifting it to pin it down on the sheets above your head; your free arm wrapping around his shoulder, pulling him closer.

Something digs into the skin around your little finger, something sharp. You hiss, craning your head up – noticing Joel doing the same – and your eyes land on your little ruby ring, still wrapped tight around your pinkie, digging marks into yours and Joel’s hands with each movement.

When your chin lowers again, face to face, he presses his lips to yours. You can taste yourself on his tongue – you and Joel, your bodies and your wet, mixing as one between breaths and whines and whispers of one another’s name. You moan into his mouth, his hips smacking into you quicker now.

It’s working – whatever the fuck he’s doing. He’s driving every thought straight out of your mind before it’s even settled. Scaring them all away, sending them back to the shadows. You’re overcome by him – the sound of him, the feel of him, the smell and sight and taste of him.

And he’s sent spiraling by you – every sound which passes your lips is echoed by Joel; your gasps filter into growls from behind clenched teeth, your whimpers translate into groans from the bottom of his throat.

His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time; whispers of praise make the short journey between your lips – ‘atta fuckin’ girl, my good girl, look so pretty like this, feels good, doesn’t it? They pass your own desperate mutterings on their way – all the places you need him, all the ways you want him to do it. Harder, daddy, faster, fuckin’ me so good.

And then you’re pulling him in in more ways than one, clenching around him, feeling him twitch deep inside you. You’re both right there, right on the other side of that thin glass pane.

“Want – to,” you pant, “to cum – together.”

Joel nods, glancing down to watch where your bodies connect, where his hips push into yours, his cock burying deep between your legs.

“You ready, babygirl?” he asks, eyes still glued to your sex.

“Uhuh,” you moan, head falling back.

“Show me,” he whispers, lifting his head and taking your neck in his teeth. “Show me how good it feels.”

The glass pane shatters. Joel takes you in his arms and sends the two of you hurtling through it.

You scream out, knees pull together around his waist, pussy clenches tight around his cock which throbs, shooting cum somewhere deep inside you.

His head falls limp in the crook of your shoulder, the moan which escapes his mouth vibrating off of your body – your name laced through a whine driving into your hot skin.

And he stays there, for what feels like hours, just lying on top of you, chest meeting yours when your lungs fill, and unsticking when you exhale. His length relaxing, still deep inside you; face still buried in your soft skin, glistening with sweat, lips pressing barely-there kisses in the curves of your collarbone whenever he musters the energy.

He’s still panting. Shoulders rising almost violently, jumping when you ghost your fingers over them. You run your nails through his hair, soaked with sweat, and massage his head, pulling another whimper from Joel’s lips. His head turns, lips against your ear, glazed eyes fluttering open to stare at the city view.

“You okay?” you ask the quiet dark.

There’s nothing between you. No clothes, no sheets, no air, nothing. The room feels huge; you and Joel feel tiny. Lost in your own little world, lying in the blue hue of the still image on the flatscreen. Feeling your hearts thrumming against one another, like they’re communicating through the walls of your chests. Like they’re exchanging words you two haven’t heard of yet. Haven’t learned the meanings of.

“Yeah,” Joel eventually whispers, voice muffled by the way his lips press against your skin. “Never been better.”

----------

Late in the morning, Joel passes you his toothbrush without a word. Without some dumb joke to go with it. Likewise, you take it silently. Rinse it once, load it with toothpaste, and flick the button. He kisses the crown of your head and leaves you alone in the bathroom.

You feel split open. Like you’re walking around with a huge, gaping wound in your chest, your heart on full display. And not just flesh and blood, but the secrets that live in there, too. Secrets that now, Joel knows. He’s heard them pass your lips. Filled in the blanks himself, the parts you held back.

You feel scared. Small. As if every head turns to look at you when you walk into every room.

The only thing that helps is…well, him.

Joel.

And that scares you just as much.

The way he leads you out of the suite and into the elevator, always first, always in front. The way his body is big enough to hide yours behind it, wide enough that you can pull yourself as close to his back as possible and sneak by anyone as though you’re one person.

He only breaks apart from you twice: the first time is outside the hotel, to help Denis lift the cases into the trunk. You linger by the open car door, staring up at the hotel building, the lion heads cast in stone watching over the avenue below. Joel calls over to you and asks if you’re ready to go, and you slip into the backseat alongside him.

The second time is at the airport, where he does the same thing. Gives your hand a squeeze and then jumps out to help his driver hoist the luggage from the car over to the jet. You slowly follow them, this time staring at the white plane in front of you and feeling yourself being slowly dragged back to real life, claw marks in your Parisian dreamscape as it’s pulled from your clutches.

Denis’s smart suit struts toward you and you feel a light hand on your shoulder.

“I hope you enjoyed your trip,” he says, as softly as he can over the rumble of the plane’s engine.

“I did,” you reply, though the nod of your head probably does better to communicate than the pathetic whisper of your voice. “I don’t wanna go home.”

He smiles warmly. His gray eyebrows lift, blue eyes twinkle beneath them. “You are welcome anytime. You will have my email address, please let me know if you are ever back in Paris.”

You return his grin, mouthing Thank you, and he taps your back once more, sending you off in the direction of Joel, who’s waiting for you at the bottom of the steps.

“You good?” he asks, wrapping a tight arm around your shoulder.

“Mhm.” You nod, and glance over your shoulder as Denis’s Maybach rolls away back toward the airport and, with it, takes every last drop of the last couple of days.

The plane cabin feels smaller, somehow. Less spectacular than it was when you were flying over here. The pristine walls feel plain, almost boring. And claustrophobic, like you’re in a padded cell or something.

You sit in the same seat by the window, Joel takes his place opposite you, and you fasten your seatbelts for takeoff. You watch through blurry eyes as Paris shrinks to nothing but shapes from the sky – roads like scratch marks in the surface of the land, the Seine you were sailing down less than twenty-four hours ago now like a tiny, winding snake.

Joel’s watching you. You know it, can see him from your peripheral. You’re deliberately ignoring the look on his face.

He leans forward and rests a hand on your knee. “You wanna go lie down?”

You shake your head, wrapping your fingers around his. “Wanna stay with you.”

“I’ll come,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing across your fingers. “I’ll come, darlin’.”

You lift your head and look him in the eye, finally seeing his expression. And it’s not one you usually spot on lighthearted, borderline-blithe, kinda-cocky-about-it Joel Miller. He looks…he looks concerned. Looks imploring, trying to work out what’s gotten you so quiet all of a sudden.

You offer him a weak smile, an attempt to convince him you’re okay that doesn’t land with him at all, and you know it. So instead, you take a deep breath and nod, and Joel instantly stands up, folds his laptop under his arm and lowers his hand to you.

You take it, letting him lead you back to the bedroom, where he pulls back the sheets and lets you climb in.

“Get some sleep, baby,” Joel whispers, and then slots in beside you, settling the laptop back on his knees and leaning over to shut the window shade. He’s mid-reply to some email from Ken. Another painful reminder of the normalcy you’re hours away from returning to.

You hook your elbow around his, press your cheek into the soft fabric of his t-shirt sleeve. Watch his wide knuckles as they move across the keyboard, typing about buyouts and dividends and other corporate words that all fade into a blur of black strokes on a white screen as your eyes start to roll closed.

The last things you remember are these: the light feeling of Joel’s shoulder moving as he types, the smell of his cologne, and the sound of your voice mumbling something to him. And then you pass out.

----------

taglist: @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @noisynightmarepoetry @@isimpforfictionalmen @lizzie-cakes @sarahhxx03 @tobuildahomeinthewoods @kittenlittle24 @suzmagine @adaslittleblog @bbyanarchist @nobodycanseeinsidemysoul @dizzyforyou @whatsliferightnow @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @pascalpvnk @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @caitispunk @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(lmk if i’ve missed you out & check my taglist info for how to be added!)

[malfoyfarms]

She Wanted You

JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Word Count:1.4k

Warnings:none

A/n: angst bc im boycotting watching season three LOL, not my gif

“What do you mean she left?” JJ questioned, dumbfounded. He didn’t realize it, but he was walking into a war zone. The Chateau no longer had the same feel. It was like someone sucked the air out, and pumped smog in. 

With tears in his eyes, John B pointed towards his sister’s room. Sarah and Pope were lingering in there, but JJ had no idea why. The room was oddly neat, incredibly out of character of the girl who resided there. Her closet was emptier than usual, the three picture frames that once had pictures of her with her family and friends were empty. What caught JJ’s eyes next, made his mouth go dry. His breath was no longer there. The navy sweatshirt he had given her years ago was folded, on the bed, next to the pillow he always claimed during their relationship. Atop the sweatshirt was a ring from a gumball machine, an orange and green friendship bracelet made of paracord, and a pile of notes written on scraps of random papers. Every other personal belonging was missing from its spot. 

JJ tore through the girl’s nightstand, and when he realized the box of her life savings was gone, he let out a string of colorful words and kicked the stand.

“Here, you should read this.” Sarah handed him a neatly written note. By the tear stains on Pope’s face, the somber tone from the kook, and JB’s raging anger, it was a farewell. 

He took a deep breath, and swiped the letter from Sarah. The familiar handwriting was already pulling at his heart.

J,

I’ve rewritten this letter four times already, and I still don’t know how to put my thoughts into actual words. Firstly, I love you. I love you until the waves stop coming in. I love you so much that I knew I needed to leave. I’ve known since you wandered home with John B in third grade, and gave me all the answers (even though they were wrong) to my math homework that if there was going to be another boy in my life, he was going to have to fight you for that spot. From 7 years old, I only ever wanted you. But over the last two years, I can see that I’m not the one for you. And that is why I’m leaving. One of the only things that got me through my day was seeing you smile, but I understand that there is someone else who causes those crinkles by your eyes.

I have to leave because it’s too painful. I need time to have all your kisses leave my body, I need to leave because I can’t smell the ocean, listen to Akon and Konvict, or even wash my fucking clothes without thinking of you. I see you in body language, in the waves, in every damn aspect of my life. Not only are we ingrained on this island, but you are ingrained in me. If I’m ever going to come home I need to remove every trace. 

I told you last week, I’d always be on your team, even from a distance. I need you to pursue Kiara because there is nothing more I want for you than happiness. Deep down, I know it will always be her. While that sentence feels like a shot, I’m coming to terms with it. 

Don’t try to come find me, either. I won’t be going to any of the places we’ve ever talked about, I do have my secrets still. Not Yucatan, not Tybee, and certainly not Jekyll. Take care of my brother.

All my love, 

Y/N

“When did you and Y/N break up?” Sarah asked. JJ couldn’t even think straight. Y/N and the boy broke up about a week ago, for that specific reason, JJ thought there was something there with Kiara. He didn’t think the girl would pick up her stuff and bolt. Leave her brother, her best friends, and the life she claimed to love. 

“I, uh, initiated it last week or so,” he stuttered, “it wasn’t definite or anything, but it was insinuated I guess. We had a conversation about it, but I don’t think I ever could have said it out loud.”

“Oh,” she thought. “You know she really loved you with every bone in her body.”

He sucked in a deep breath to try to keep his tears at bay. How could he walk out to the front room and face John B. He was the reason the youngest Routledge had left. With Big John gone, she was all he had left. Hell, with Luke gone, she was all JJ had too. In some form he robbed his friends of a family member. 

JJ laid down on the neatly made bed and latched onto the sweatshirt that smelled just like her. His memory flooded with images of Y/n in that sweatshirt. From it covering her bikini when they went night swimming, it being the one sweatshirt that was specifically for after she came home from school, the one thing that grounded her when she was having a rough day. JJ felt his chest start to tighten, and his hands were clammy and shaking. 

“I thought you said you’d never break her heart!” JB screamed. Impeccable timing. 

“John B don’t–” Sarah tried to interject.

“No Sarah, he promised. He promised me almost three years ago that if I gave him permission to date Y/n, he wouldn’t hurt her. He knew he’d be breaking more than just her heart. And now I can’t even help her pick up the pieces. I can’t fix my baby sister, the way she fixed each and every one of us!” 

“Bro, you think this is what I wanted? I had a conversation with her. Nothing was definitive. It’s not my fault she took her shit and ran!”

“When has Y/n ever not taken her feelings and ran? Name one time!”

JJ sat there in thought, and there had been one time she didn’t run, and he had promised that he wouldn’t tell. He was going to anyway.

“When you disappeared. I held her while she cried herself to sleep for nights on end. So don’t act like I never treated her right. You know I did.” JB ran his hands through his hair and left the room. 

“Until you decided you may have feelings for the girl who is like her big sister.” That stung. 

“What’s going on?” Kie asked.

“She’s gone.” John B said. “‘Cuz JJ’s in love with you.”

~~

JJ sat in the hammock, wearing the navy sweatshirt he hadn’t worn in years. It smelled just like her. He could even feel the marks of where she rolled the sleeves and dug her thumbs into the side. 

He barely remembered last week’s conversation about Kie, but never did he think that it would cause you to disappear. Y/n was so incredibly loyal. She wanted him. Every. Damn. Day. She wanted him when the clouds were out, and the usually blue sky was gray. She wanted him when he was bruised and beat up, she wanted him when he was crabby after a 14 hour shift, she wanted him at every hour of the day in any way she could have him. 

It was just a conversation, he thought. He never flat out said that he was leaving her for the tanned, wealthy kook. 

He felt so fucking stupid. He felt so much self-hatred. He remembered when they were 12 and 14, and Y/n wanted to walk to the gas station a few streets over, but John B wouldn’t go with her. He remembered what she usually bought. Peach iced tea, sour straws and a bag of munchie mix. Every single time. 

He remembered when the girl got drunk for the first time and dialed him to come get her. God, she was so inebriated. She clung to the boy, giggling profusely. That was the first night she ever told the boy she loved him. Y/n never knew it, but JJ kept that memory locked in his head. 

He pondered the time she was ready to give him her virginity. He remembered how nervous she was, but how much she trusted him. 

It had grown dark by the time he wandered back into the Chateau. He was surprised JB didn’t kick him out, he fully expected to be out on the streets by now. As he stumbled towards the bedrooms, he went past his own, and fully dove into the light purple sheets he had come to love. She’ll come back, he thought. She has to.

[yokohamapound]

BSD Boys With a Nervous Flier S/O

For Amulet! <3

(I added Chuuya for me. :P)

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Edogawa Ranpo, Nakahara Chuuya

Contents: NSFW jokes/references, fear of flying.

Dazai Osamu

Don’t bother trying to hide it. Dazai can pick up on every tiny little tell, so unless you’ve got the world’s best poker face, he’ll figure it out before you say a single word. It’s all there, the shrunken pupils when he shows you the tickets, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants when you’re booking the taxi to the airport, the harsh, unsteady breathing when you’re queueing to check in. 

For once, wisely, he drops the double suicide jokes. The last thing you need to think about right now is you or him dying, and he’s that much of an ass. Most of the time.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, leaning in and whispering in your ear so it doesn’t carry to the other passengers in the boarding queue. “Guess what?”

You frown, distracted momentarily, and look at him. “What?”

His eyes glitter with mischief, and his smile widens into a full blown smirk. “You know how your ears sometimes pop when the cabin pressure changes? They say you should have chew gum or suck on candy.”

Your eyes narrow, suspicious. Dazai leans down to look into your eyes, grinning. 

“I don’t have any candy, but I’ve got something you can su—oww!”

He deserved to have his foot trodden on, really. Dazai might pout, but internally he’s smug that his plan to distract you worked. He’s got plenty more like that up his sleeve. 

Fyodor Dostoevsky

Flying with Fyodor is something different entirely. With the weight (and wallet) of the Decay of Angels behind him, he would never fly on a commercial airline. Normally he doesn’t care much - he’ll take a helicopter or some other type of solo plane. If he’s taking his precious myshka though, he’s flying in style. 

Naturally, he already knows about your fear of flying.

You can take comfort in the fact that Fyodor has literally already thought of everything. There are multiple contingency plans for any conceivable emergency onboard the jet. He has a backup helicopter. There are parachutes. There are backup parachutes. 

All you have to do is get dolled up and sit pretty on one of the luxurious recliner seats, being fed little tidbits of fruit and cake and sipping champagne. Fyodor has his laptop out, watching the endless screeds of incomprehensible information, one resting on your thigh, thumb tracing circles into your warm, soft skin. 

If you want a sedative, he’ll allow it, though his tone is subtly disapproving. He doesn’t like seeing you passed out (unless he’s been the one to drug you or exhaust you, naturally.) Still, if it makes you feel better.

He has…other methods to distract you however. Ones you’ll learn all about when he orders the cabin crew out of the main seating area and draws the curtains. You’ll be flying so high you might not even notice you’ve landed. 

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo has an easy solution to all your fears and anxieties—he’s such a baby that you have to look after him and you just won’t have time to worry about the plane going down, because you’ll be trying to convince him he can’t cram a whole gumball machine in his suitcase.

“It’ll fit!”

“You know it won’t! It’s physically impossible. You’re supposed to be a genius!”

“Well, I'm on vacation!”

He’s exuberant and excited to wander through Duty Free and buy all the varieties of chocolate and snacks they sell. Ranpo isn’t getting on that plane without snacks. Have you eaten plane food? That’s simply not going to cut it for the World’s Greatest Detective. 

It’s almost…calculated, the way he seems to rush off to a new thing every time your jitters start coming back. Your heart starts to race, your mouth goes dry, and then you notice Ranpo is gone from your side again. 

By the time you get onto the actual plane, you’re lowkey exhausted, and he still looks as smug as ever, his bag of chips rustling as he snacks in his seat. He opens his eyes, looks around the plane with that sharp, green gaze, then shrugs and settles against the backrest. 

“Nothing wrong with the plane, we’ll be fine,” he declares, tossing a chip into his mouth. “Do you think they have Ramune?”

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya is a well-travelled guy due to his position as a Port Mafia executive and enforcer. It seems as if he gets sent abroad now and then to look after the mafia’s foreign interests and contracts. Koyo seems to stay back more, acting as Mori’s advisor, so it’s Chuuya who racks up the airmiles. He generally travels first or business class, because he’s not about to be back in the cattle runs—sorry, economy. 

He’s so used to it by now that booking the flights, packing, and getting to the airport are a breeze. It’s so mundane to him that he’s a little surprised to find out how frightened you are. He has to admit, it’s kinda cute. 

He lounges next to you in your first class seats, a glass of wine in one hand and your hip in the other, cuddling you against his side. 

“Dollface, what’re you shakin’ for?” he teases, poking you in the ribs. “You forgettin’ who you’re flyin’ with?”

Oh. That’s right. Mr. Gravity Master himself. 

“So if something happens, you could stop the plane falling?” you ask, almost in disbelief. 

He scoffs. “What do you take me for? You’re gonna be on the safest flight in existence. They should be paying me to fly.”

[pamicakery]

Me realizing that my Dr script is actually a journal from another version of myself, that my desired face is another version of myself. That the only thing I have to do is to realize that I am that person I want to be, not want to be because this is me.

That all I have to do is embody and be that other version of me, and that I was so stupid to repeating the same circle of sadness for 25 years. I am free, this is not my Canon reality, I don't have one official reality.

That's what Edward art meant when he said to be free within. We are not slaved to one reality, it's just one gum among all the gums in the gumball machine.

TIME DOESN'T EXIST, PHYSICAL APPEARANCE DOESN'T EXIST, YOUR BLOODLINE, DNA, GENETIC DOESN'T EXIST, YOUR PARENTS, FAMILY, DAY, NIGHT, EARTH All of that are assumption in this reality!!

I AM FREE!!! I CAN LEAVE!!!! I CAN FUCKING LEAVE!!!! I can have many identities, shifting, voiding, I am the power!!! The power is me!!!

I am not bound to be sad and cry everyday about my parents, this is just another reality among many. I CAN LEAVE!!!

AND SO YOU CAN!!! WE ARE FREE!!!! You don't have to stay here, you fucking don't!!!

... I have to make a script and get the fuck out of here!!!!

I might sound crazy but.. This is a revelation for me!!!

[luvtak]

stray kids as cliche romance tropes

❀ pairing skz x gn!reader

❀ genre/tw fluff fluff fluff!! a smidgen of angst, slightly (like the slightest) suggestive, some are est. relationship, some getting together <33

❀ w/c 2248, about 200-300 for each member (do not ask me what happened with linos hehe

❀ a/n here it is!! this took me like a month to write lol so i hope its good!! personal faves are minho and innies, let me know which one is yours <333

Chan: Childhood Sweethearts

You’ve lived your life holding Chan’s hand.

You met in elementary school, immediately infatuated with the boy and his shy smile. He called you pretty on the first day of school and spent the rest of the year taking care of you: sharpening your pencils and sharing his lunch. Adults would coo and call it puppy love, laughing at the lovesick smiles adorned on your faces, but there was nothing childish about how you looked at each other.

Middle school is spent going to the movies and sharing ice cream, swimming, and sharing sweet laughs. First kisses in the fall and gumball machine promise rings given in the spring—it’s innocent in the sweetest way, forever is simple when you’re thirteen.

Teenage years give way to deeper feelings and new experiences; There was no question you were together—even if you never had the conversation, his hands locked in yours tells everyone what they need to know. High School is defined by stolen kisses on doorsteps and promposals, nights spent giggling into each other’s mouths to keep quiet. You think you know his body and soul as well as your own, like leaves plucked from the same tree.

Childhood eases into adulthood, and suddenly you’ve loved each other longer than you’ve been alive. There’s no question of a future together, no pressure to ask what you are or what you will be. Sometimes you wonder if you missed out on something, if it would’ve been better to have loved more, but when you see him there is no question. It’s easy together, a quiet breeze encasing you in his affections, and you’ll continue like you always have, hand in hand.

Minho: Second Chance Romance

When you saw him again, you didn’t realize it would hurt so bad. He’s gorgeous, somehow even prettier than he was a year ago. You think the grocery store is an interesting place to have this interaction—an unusual intruder to your midnight snack run, haloed by ice cream.

It’s strange, looking at him like you’ve never met, as if he hasn’t seen the inner workings of your mind or mapped your skin with his hands.

You can’t deny you’ve missed him, still grieving the relationship you thought you’d be in forever. You broke up because you didn’t feel appreciated, you were always unsure about how he felt, and he was always too busy and too cocksure to change that. So, you were certain he’d ignore you and you’d both go on with your lives, but when he sees you, he smiles.

 It’s such a contradictory thing, to feel at ease at his figure, but anxious to hear his voice. You know how he’ll sound, so soft and charming, the perfect mix of arrogance and kindness.

When he finally stands in front you, there is so much the same as the last time you saw him, yet distinct differences in how he looks at you. A year ago, his eyes were filled with tears and now they’re so bright it’s blinding. He tells you it’s good to see you, that it’s been too long; he doesn’t want to bother you, but he doesn’t know the next time he’ll see you and he needs you to know that he’s missed you.

When he asks to walk you home, you surprise both of you by saying yes. Sharing stories of the year spent apart and lamenting over lost days together. He wonders if you’ll want to do this again, if you’re up to trying another time equipped with more love and more patience. And how can you say no, when he came back to you like an angel in the frozen food aisle.

Changbin: Damsel in Distress

When you fell, you wanted to die. There you were in the middle of the gym running on the treadmill when you lost your footing and fell directly on your face. It was not your proudest moment, and you were dead set on never setting foot in this gym ever again, maybe not even leaving your house you were that embarrassed. Until you hear someone asking if you were okay, and suddenly he’s fussing around you and lifting you up.

Changbin has seen you here before, watching you work on the equipment, and fantasizing about coming up and introducing himself, but he’s never gained enough courage. It was in the middle of one of these daydreams when you tripped, and immediately he was filled with worry. Rushing over, he checked your hands and pulled up your leggings to see if your knees were scraped and introduced himself while putting band aids on your cuts.

He's cute and nervous, and you can’t help but be swayed by how kind he is. He sits with you while you recuperate and asks to take you to lunch to make up for the embarrassment. The whole time he introduces himself as someone wonderful, you find that he’s silly and so sweet. When he admits to have been crushing on you, you laugh and wonder why he never came up to you before. And as the day comes to an end, you come to be a little grateful for the fall.

Hyunjin: Fake Relationship/Wedding Date

Hyunjin has been your friend for a long time, and your family has always wanted you to be together—it’s been years of awkward questions and dinner invites. When your sister got engaged, she told you to bring a date, and single as can be, the only person to ask was Hyunjin.

At first, he was hesitant. He knew and loved your family, and the idea of lying to them and pretending to be your boyfriend when he is certainly not, is hard to stomach. When he finally agrees he still wonders if it’s a good idea, but seeing the bright smile on your face makes up for it.

The family is ecstatic when they see who your date is, and as the night goes on you start to see why they’re so happy—on a superficial level, you’ve always known how beautiful and wonderful he is, but seeing him  here all dressed up and smiling down at you, you start to see what your family means when they say you’re perfect together. You’re dancing and talking, and he becomes so much more than just your friend.

He’s always loved you, maybe not romantically, but he has. And something turns when he’s dancing with you, maybe it’s the lights or the music, but he can feel something shift. When he takes you home that night, he wonders if it’ll still feel this way in the morning.

Jisung: Best friends to Lovers  

You know everything about each other, it’s as if you’re one person—finishing each other’s sentences and sharing inside jokes. You’ve spent your lives together, yet it has been purely platonic. You’ve both had relationships and never saw each other as more than you are, until one night he looks a little too pretty under the TV light and suddenly you’re overthinking every little interaction you’ve had.

If it’s normal to be so close to someone who’s just your friend—If other people put their best friend before anything else, including significant others. Jisung loves you, that much is obvious, but you’re not sure if he sees you the way you see him; he takes up every inch of your heart, everything you do is for him.

In Han’s mind, you know how he feels—it’s so clear to him how you feel for each other, while unspoken he thinks his  actions speak louder than words. He’s just been waiting for you to be ready, maybe that’s his mistake; you’ve both been waiting to make the first move.

Your friends are frustrated, waiting for you to finally see what they do. Lecturing the both of you on admitting your feelings, but neither you nor Jisung want to mess with the relationship you already have.

When you finally come to terms with how you feel, you confess to your feelings like a crime, he tells you like whispering a secret you already know. Shakey and tired of feeling so overwhelmed with how big your feelings are for him, you admit to realizing how much you truly love him. All he can do is laugh, wondering why you were both so anxious to tell each other this one secret, when you’ve shared all the others.

Felix: Vacation Romance

When your friends decided to go on vacation, you could never have dreamed of meeting someone as wonderful as Felix. You met him three days into your three-week trip, and if you thought he was lovely from afar, he’s even sweeter up close. The relationship was eager, escalating quickly over the course of your stay. Within days you felt like you’d known him forever, sure that you were somehow meant to meet.

Days are spent in the sun, soaking up love and light—watching new freckles arrive on his cheekbones as the weeks fade. His skin is always touching yours, hands in your hair and kisses pressed into your neck. He thinks he’s a little bit in love with you, even so, the threat of the end hangs over your head; you never thought this would last, in fact you knew it would be too hard to continue, but you throw yourself headfirst into it anyway.

Your first kiss is cautious and your last is hasty, a million little touches in twenty-one days leading up to a goodbye. You wonder if you’ll ever see him again, or if it only worked because it was temporary. Your friends laugh at you, thinking you’re taking this little fling too seriously, but they’ve don’t know what it feels like to have his eyes on you.

The night before you leave, he tells you he’ll miss you, and you think that’s it—that the vacation will just become a romantic memory to look back on, but he asks if he can call you, and you think that maybe this could lead to so much more.

Seungmin: Opposites Attract

There was no question, you two were very different people—while you were bubbly and bright, Seungmin was often blunt and withdrawn. Sure, he can be silly, and you don’t think you’ve met anyone funnier than he is, but often he can be cold. When you first got together all your friends wondered how it would work, if someone as sunshiny as you could really feel fulfilled by someone like him.

What they don’t see is how effortlessly sweet he is to you, taking care of your heart like it’s his own. It was difficult in the beginning, to accept both sides of him—the outside version who would barely hold your hand and the inside one, thoughtlessly grazing your skin. He has so much admiration and respect for your open nature; sometimes he wants to be more like you, but he doesn’t think you’d love him so much if it weren’t for your differences.

 You balance each other in the best ways, speaking up for him when his social battery gives way; laughing away his jokes when they could come off too hard. On the other side, Seungmin allows you a respite from the constant smiles—it can get exhausting keeping a positive attitude, but he loves you in your quiet moments as well as your loud ones. 

He’s loved you for all your differences, appreciated you more for them—even if no one understood it didn’t matter because when it’s just you two alone together, there’s nothing different about you.

Jeongin: Boy Next Door

You can count your life in moments spent walking home with Jeongin—he smiles down at you, and asks about your day, and shares his snacks. Summers spent in each other’s backyards, learning to swim and ride bikes; telling scary stories and recitations of silly dreams. As you get older, he only becomes kinder and more handsome, offering to drive you places and invites you out with his friends. It’s only natural to have a crush on him, to feel stubborn butterflies when his dimples are directed at you, but as childhood drifts away and the infatuation becomes more intense, you’re certain you’re in love with him.

When you left for college, you didn’t think your heart would tear into pieces, but all year you missed him. You missed the sidewalk conversations and the sweet grin before he’d offer something to share—you missed sitting in his car, sat so close to him you can smell his cologne mixed with the leather seats, but mostly you just missed his body next to yours.

No boy at school amounted to him, none of them made you feel as giddy and charmed, none of them were able to mask the need you felt for him. You wondered if he thought that way about you, so sure that he was sitting miles and miles away from you, yearning for your company.

When you arrived home for the summer, it was almost like he was waiting for you. Perched on his porch swing and looking out on an empty suburban street. His hair had grown longer, and he seemed freer somehow, but he was still Jeongin—still the boy who’d walk with you and trigger your hundred-watt smile. And when you finally took your first steps outside and waved him over, he was still just the boy next door, smiling down at you.

© luvtak

[eimogji]

Hey idk if you take orders rn but, can you make alien/arcade/neon based dividers??? plz??? /nf

Yeah I do, not too often since they take some time but I do like requests. Hope you like these!

[ID: a repeated pattern of space invader monsters, robots, and grinning demons. The entire thing is hot pink. /End ID]

[ID: a collection of pixelated fruits, animals, objects, and other items that would be found in an old school video game. /End ID]

[ID: a repeated pattern of green alien faces and blue UFO’s with green tractor beams. /End ID]

[ID: a series of rainbow pixelated hearts. It starts with pink and ends with pink. /End ID]

[ID: a semi repeated pattern of different alien video game based icons in between pink exclamation marks. This includes a green virus, a ufo, a pixelated expression edited to be green, a small alien face edited to be blue, and a large green alien face. /End ID]

[ID: repeated rainbow UFOs and regular UFOs flying through clouds. /End ID]

[ID: a repeated pattern centered around a trophy. It’s bordered on each side by rainbow balloons, reddish-pink tickets, rainbow candy, reddish-pink tickets again, and rainbow balloons again. /End ID]

[ID: a repeated pattern of Star shaped electric guitars, balloon dogs, and dart boards, bordered by red gumball/candy machines. /End ID]

[ID: a line of reddish pink tickets. The icons in the middle repeat in a pattern of alien, planet, and rocket ship. /End ID]

[ID: a star-filled repeating pattern of purple game controllers and purple microphones. /End ID]

[diagnosedpsychosis]

Hidden Feelings

Description: The reader has a thing for her boss, but is too oblivious to see the feelings are reciprocated.

Word Count: 1.7k

______________________________________________________________

Like the cliché it was, everyone could feel and see the tension between you and Hotch, except for the two of you. The lingering stares, the inevitable smiles when the other looked away, you and Hotch were drawn to each other like a moth to a flame, a very blind, very oblivious moth.

It always managed to work out perfectly that the moment you looked away from Hotch, his eyes would subtly shift over to you and where you sat. From his office looking out at you in the bullpen, on the jet, even in the rear view of the suburban, Hotch loved looking at you.

He loved the way your full lips curved up and the lines beside your mouth as you smiled. He loved your eyes and how you subconsciously batted your eyelashes at him anytime he stood above you. He loved all your little mannerisms, and that he was usually able to read you as if he was in your mind listening to your thoughts, feeling your emotions.

He loved your little quirks and the fact you were the kind of person that'd actually 'touch wood' to protect yourself from bad luck. He loved the fact you'd always smile and wish a person you passed on the footpath a good day, before taking a big step so that between each square pavement you'd have taken exactly three steps, because two was too little and four were too many.

He loved the fact you always kept change in your purse, and that whenever you saw a gumball machine at the front of a store, you'd stop, pull out a coin, slot it in and turn it until one popped out the bottom. And then if the gumball was orange you'd hand it to him, leaving him no time to turn it down before you were getting another one. He liked the colour orange and he loved that you knew it.

He loved it when you noticed the number '64' in everyday life, because it was your favourite number, and you'd always point it out.

'Half of 64 is 32. Half of 32 is 16. Half of 16 is 8. Half of 8 is 4. And half of 4 is 2' You would always say. You loved even numbers, and whenever Spencer made the comment that half of 2 was 1, an odd number, Hotch loved watching you smack the back of his head. He also loved that not too long after he'd catch you apologising to Spencer for hitting him.

But what Hotch loved the most about you, was how late at night, when it was just the two of you alone in the office, you would always accidentally first name slip. He loved when you would accidentally call him Aaron, but he loved the way you'd stutter and apologise, face red and flushed in embarrassment, even more.

There wasn't a single thing, good or bad, about you that Hotch didn't absolutely adore about you. Sometimes you got too emotionally involved in a case which wasn't a particularly good thing, but it made you work extra hard, and it always made you the perfect person to talk to a victims family. You were insanely empathetic, and felt for another person like they were your twin.

Sometimes you'd let people walk all over you, but after a conversation with somebody like Hotch or Rossi, and even sometimes JJ about standing up for yourself and being true to what you feel and believe, you'd come back harder than ever. You'd grow a backbone 10 times stronger and Hotch genuinely adored watching you evolve.

Hotch loved you more than anything, that much was clear, but he didn't take it that way. He didn't think he could love somebody he wasn't actually involved with, but he certainly knew he's admired you to no end and that if you were to fall off a cliff, he'd jump off after you. He loved you.

You thought Hotch saw you, purely as another acquaintance, a subordinate he was on a team with, but you couldn't be more wrong. To be fair, you had a hard time at reading him more than you did anyone else. His face always remained passive. He didn't smile much, and whenever you did catch each others eye he would be quick to break eye contact. But when you did catch him looking at you longer than usual, it seemed more like he was looking through you, when in reality, he was daydreaming about you.

It was another late night at the office, and you'd been busting your butt on completing the case file from the murders you and the team just solved. You'd gotten to emotionally involved again. Nothing bad happened, in fact it made you find the unsub faster because your mind had been running a thousand miles an hour, but you knew you shouldn't have, because being so invested in a case doesn't always end the way it did this time.

Sometimes it helps, sometimes it jeopardises things.

Almost falling asleep, you stood up and headed towards the kitchen, needing a fix of coffee. Finish the case file and go, that way you could sleep in a little bit whilst everyone else completed it in the morning. But you were surprised to find out you hadn't actually been alone in the office all night. Sitting at one of the small tables in the kitchen was Hotch.

"If you'd rather migrate to the kitchen table I'll happily steal your office from you" Hotch knew you were in the office somewhere, but he hadn't expected you to come into the kitchen where he sat. He looked up from the case file he was working on, and immediately the sight of your smile warmed his chest. What he didn't know, was the sight of his smile in greeting did the exact same thing to you.

Pointing the tip of his pen up to the roof, he finally spoke. "The fluorescent lighting is keeping me awake."

"I think going home might work better" You stated, walking over to the coffee pot to make a fresh batch.

"You ever think about taking your own advice?" You glanced over your shoulder and grinned at Hotch, finding him still watching you, his pen on the table. He was giving you his full attention and whilst it made you nervous, you couldn't deny the way it warmed you.

"My logic behind it is if I finish the case file now, it means whilst everyone else is doing theirs tomorrow I can sleep in" Hotch snorted at your explanation.

"You certainly deserve one. You did good, really good" You turned back towards him, leaning your back against the bench. You placed your hands on either side of you, eyes locked with Hotch as you frowned slightly.

"Yeah?" Your voice was so soft and unsure, all Hotch wanted to do was protect you at all costs, all day every day forever. He slowly nodded his head, his smile warming your body and drowning out your worries.

"Yeah, y/n. You did" He replied, the soft gaze of his pulling a sigh from you. You had been doubting yourself and your judgement on the case since the second you felt your emotions expand. Getting reassurance, and from Hotch, meant everything.

"I know I got a bit emotionally involved-"

"And because you did we found the unsub, and Emma Harlan alive. You should be proud of yourself" You grinned.

"And the team" Hotch scoffed.

"Sweetheart, the team would be nothing without you. This isn't our victory, it's yours" Your cheeks flushed as you looked down at the ground, struggling to take the compliment and push aside the fact he'd just called you sweetheart. You wanted to heart it again and again until you got sick of it, but you don't think you ever would.

"Thank you, Sir" You mumbled softly, Hotch shaking his head ever so slowly, the expression on his face unreadable as he stared at you. You wished he felt what you felt every time you looked at him, little did you know he did, and more.

"Aaron...just Aaron" The kitchen went silent, the two of you unable to look away from the other. You could feel it, the tension, and you were sure he could feel it too. No two people, who are purely acquaintances look and breathe that way around each other.

"Thank you, Aaron."

"Are you vegetarian?" The question caught you off guard and confused you beyond belief. How did that have anything to do what what the two of you had been doing and talking about.

"Pardon?" You asked again, just making sure you hadn't heard him wrong.

"Are you vegetarian?" Slowly, you smiled and chuckled, shaking your head in a 'no'. You certainly were not a vegetarian, and you knew Aaron knew that, but you didn't know why he was asking so.

"No. Never."

"This kebab joint opened up just down the road from my place. I've been meaning to try it out, but I haven't really had the time, or any good company. Sometime, would you...maybe want to...." Aaron trailed off, hoping you caught his drift. You did. Your cheeks flushed which made Aaron's smile burn brighter. Was this the easiest way he thought to ask you out? Ask if you're a vegetarian, knowing your not, and using that as leeway into asking you out for food? It didn't matter how he did it, you just couldn't believe he was asking you out. It had been a dream come true for years now that he was finally doing it, it felt like a dream.

You quickly nodded your head, Aaron's shoulders sagging in relief as your smile stretched wider despite you biting down on your bottom lip. "Yeah, yes."

"Alright. Friday?" You nodded quickly again, filling your mug with coffee before backing away towards the door, needing to leave before you screamed and then collapsed in front of him.

"It's a date" You said, leaning against the door as Aaron smiled, slowly nodding his head as he repeated after you, in disbelief he had finally worked up the courage to ask you out after years of fawning over you.

"It's a date."

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for exposing some parents' lies in front of their children?

So I ( at the time 25F) used to be a fast food worker in a mall until last year. In the restaurant we had a very eye catchy gumball machine, and families that walk past the restaurant tend to get stopped by children asking for these. Some parents are okay with it but most are not. Those who refuse to get some tend to deal with the situation questionably sometimes. The ones that get on my nerves the most are the parents who expect ME to convince the children not to buy some, as if I weren't busy already fixing their food. It's a small booth so I'm the only worker there and it's hell when it gets busy. However, for the sake of professionalism, I do try and talk the children out of it. "It's not healthy" is my favorite argument, actually my only argument, I can't think of another reason not to buy it. It doesn't work obviously but at least I tried?

The other type of parents that annoy me are the parents who outright lie to their children to get them to stop asking for gumballs. Like "the machine is broken", "it's just for display, not for sale" are the most popular lies I could remember right now. It's none of my business when this happens, even though I don't agree of this method of parenting. Children are my favorite people (if anyone remembers me, I sent the AITA about hanging out with children and ditching adults- so you'd know how much I love these little people) and I hate it when adult treat them as if they were dumb? Needless to say, most children don't even believe those lies and would argue with their parents. "Why keep it there if it doesn't work/ not for sale?"

Now, whenever children argue with their parents, some times the parents would look for someone else to back them up on their lies. They'd look at me and wink. "It's broken, right?" "It's not allowed for public use, isn't it?" And expect me to agree with them.

I really hate it when this happen. They demand that I side with them adults against those impressionable and innocent children??? To commit acts of dishonesty in the face of a cute child that just wants a candy of a certain color? Okay but my issue is the fact those customers demand I lie. Just like I said, I hate doing that because it's like I'm mocking their their intelligence and encouraging bad parenting. The other reason is, I'm a Muslim and lying is a sin, and putting me in a tough spot where I'm forced to sin is uncomfortable and I draw the line at it. I live in a highly religious Muslim area too so it's not like they aren't aware of that either. Like, I'm not claiming to be perfect, I have absolutely lied before and committed other sins, but I refuse to increase my sin count doings something I'm totally against? The third reason is, I'm Autistic so I happen to be very blunt, so I'm not used to lying at all, I'll suck at it if I try anyway.

So here's where I might be TA:

When the parents seek me to help cover their lies, I act as if I don't understand what they want me to do and contradict them. For example they'll say "Hey, the machine is broken, isn't?"

I pull my innocent confused face and say something along the line of "Oh no, it works perfectly fine, just insert a coin to get it to work!"

If they say something like "It's not for sale it's just decoration, right?"

I'll reply with "no of course you're allowed to use it, sir."

And so on.

I had a blast doing that, for once, I get to be slightly rude with Karens who can't call me out because their children are right in front of them so they'll have to admit they were lying. Also I work alone so there's no superior they can report me to, and it's a huge chain restaurant so one sigle bad review will cause no harm and even go unnoticed, but it's not like any parent bothered looking up how to report me since they are so busy trying to get their children to leave, which means I get to do whatever I want. Also management was very nice for a change and they always shot down any complaints about me.

However, I'm not a parent myself so I don't understand their struggle to keeping their children under control.

Anyway, AITA for not lying with them and exposing them in the process?

What are these acronyms?

[hippolotamus]

Inspiration Saturday 🪩

Tagged by the delightful @thekristen999 @daffi-990 @lemonzestywrites @bidisasterevankinard @wikiangela

@theotherbuckley for Fuck it Friday. Thank you darlin’s (tagging you back for today) mwah! 💖

Made a lil moodboard for today's snippet. I'm not in love with all the words but that's what editing is for. So, here's Buck visiting Eddie's workplace for the first time. Surprise (because I don't think I've mentioned this before???) Eddie's not a firefighter in this either. He's a mechanic who works with a bunch of homophobic jerks. But also with Hen! Buck knows Eddie isn't out to most people so this is an... enlightening moment for him. Some of it's under the cut to save your dash. masterlist of posts here and no I'm not writing this remotely in order

“Oh, thank fuck,” he mumbles to himself when he pulls the door open and is greeted with a cool blast of air conditioning. 

Looking around the interior, he thinks it could pass for a museum. A snapshot in time, forever preserved exactly as it was. Gold framed articles about the 1973 grand re-opening hang on the wood-paneled walls alongside prints of hot rods and muscle cars. There are vintage metal signs mixed in for Shell, Texaco, Gulf, and some other brands he’s never heard of. 

“Do you have an appointment?” A gravelly voice asks from behind him.

Buck jerks around to the desk where a middle aged woman with auburn hair and green gray eyes glares at him with a mix of boredom and curiosity. Or maybe suspicion? He can't quite tell.

Her bronzed skin is littered with freckles and screams that she’s spent too much time outside with no sunscreen or other protection. A name plate, half hidden under papers and key rings, identifies her as Estelle. He’s heard a few stories about her from Eddie, but he’s not sure any of them did her intimidating demeanor justice.

“Uh, no?” He answers, not sure why it comes out as a question other than he’s not entirely convinced the five foot something couldn’t somehow manage to hurt him. 

It must take every ounce of strength to conceal the whole body sigh she wants to make as she looks down, licks her fingertip and begins flipping through a giant paper scheduling book. “If you don’t have an appointment I can maybe get you in next Thursday. Depending on what you need.”

“Actually, uh, I don’t need anything.” Estelle glances up, mouth slightly parted and eyes narrowed as if she’s about to ask what he’s doing standing in her lobby. He quickly adds, “Well, what I mean is, my car doesn’t need anything. I’m here to see Eddie? Uh, Eddie Diaz.”

She nods with something like understanding. At least he hopes that’s what it is as she picks up the phone receiver and punches in a few numbers.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Hey, is Diaz around? Someone here asking about him.” 

“No, it’s not the cops! What’s the matter with you? I don’t know. Just some guy here looking for Eddie.”

Estelle huffs an exasperated sigh and looks toward the ceiling like it’ll give her strength. “Jay, I don’t have time for twenty questions and, quite frankly, I don’t care.”

“About time you quit screwin’ around. Send him out.” She hangs up the receiver and mutters something about not caring that he’s a relative. 

“He’ll be a few minutes. Take a seat.” She gestures to a line of metal chairs with sticky looking vinyl cushions without so much as glancing in Buck’s direction. 

He momentarily gets excited when he spots a gumball machine in the corner until he realizes it would require actual coins that he definitely doesn’t have. And he’s not about to ask Estelle if she’s got change for a twenty just so he can satisfy his sweet tooth. 

“Buck?” Eddie appears from a side door, wiping his hands on a rag. His hair is sweaty and mussed, likely from pushing it out of his face. His gorgeous, kissable face that Buck very much wants to kiss even more right now despite the streaks and smudges of god knows what decorating it. The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches like he knows what Buck is thinking, but he clears his throat and schools it just as quickly when Estelle grunts, reminding them they’re at his workplace. 

“Uh, Buck. Hi. What can I do for you?” Eddie tilts his chin in the direction of the parking lot. “Everything okay with the jeep?”  

“Hi,” Buck answers, a little too breathy for their current situation. He can’t seem to help himself. Eddie’s always cleaned up when they meet, whether it’s at the club, a date out somewhere or an evening in. He’s never seen him marked up from his job, in his grimy army green coveralls. 

“Uh, yeah. Jeep’s fine. Just, you know, was nearby and thought I’d stop in.” Buck tracks the movement as Eddie’s tongue darts out, wetting his lips, before sneaking him a flirty, amused smirk. 

“Glad you did.” Eddie chances a look at Estelle who still has her head down, shuffling some papers that probably don’t need it. He takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “I haven’t taken my lunch yet. Give me five and we can get out of here?”

Buck nods, not knowing how to respond without giving anything away. 

Eddie puts more distance between them again, sticking his hand out. Buck takes it, thrown by the familiarity of his boyfriend mixed with the very conventional, socially acceptable handshake. “Great to see you again, Buck. Check that place on Viscount Boulevard. I think you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Buck answers, reluctantly letting their palms slide apart. But he gets it. Eddie’s coworkers are all a bunch of ignorant, homophobic assholes. Well, except for Hen apparently. Regardless, Eddie can’t be risking his job and livelihood when he has Chris to think about. “I’ll go check it out. You said it’s about... ten minutes from here?”

“About that, yeah. Maybe fifteen.”

A warm, fluttering feeling washes over him as Eddie winks and smiles, seeming pleased that Buck caught on to his little game. He has to force himself to turn around and leave instead of watching his boyfriend walk away. 

“Have a nice day,” Estelle says as he opens the door, setting off a chime. It’s enough to snap him out of his haze, offering a weak ‘you too’ as he hurries back to his jeep.

np tagging @actuallyitsellie @epicbuddieficrecs @loveyouanyway @a-noble-dragon @tizniz

@mountedeverest @fortheloveofbuddie @weewootruck @saybiwithme @shipperqueen6

@ramonaflow @taketheplanspinitsideways @spotsandsocks @dangerpronebuddie @stereopticons

@kitteneddiediaz @mrs-f-darcy @drowsy-quill @your-catfish-friend @filet-o-feelings

@underwaterninja13 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rainbow-nerdss @steadfastsaturnsrings @queenmabcreates

@inell @jesuisici33 @rmd-writes @shortsighted-owl @queerbuckleys

@bi-buckrights @elvensorceress @bucksbiawakening @giddyupbuck @hoodie-buck

@indestructibleheart @ladydorian05 @monsterrae1 @statueinthestone @slightlyobsessedwitheverything

@the-likesofus @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @welcometololaland @wildlife4life and anyone else who wants to 😘

[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (part 102)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

GENRE: college au | smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol, smoking, etc. | this has narrations | god-awful pet names | will add more if something arises

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<prev part 102 next>>

A/N: This comes with prose.

"Didn't know we made things official."

Magnificent blue eyes darted towards the direction of your voice, their owner visibly perking up at the sight of you from where he was seated on the bed. It was like watching the sped up process of a wilting flower, only backwards as it came back to life. And you momentarily questioned your worth to have such an effect on one Gojo Satoru. You were one person in comparison to the multitude of others who wanted him and would kill to be in your place. Somehow you had to be the one for him; perhaps the one who makes him happy to a certain degree, but most definitely the one who's hurting him, too.

"At least hand me the memo before you go around announcing that I'm in an exclusive relationship with you."

An airy chuckle left his throat as he remained seated, his arms opening and beckoning you over. You obliged albeit taking each step cautiously, but he was impatient as always, pulling you by the hand the moment you were within reach and hooking an arm around your waist to draw you even closer to him. You remained standing between his legs while he possessively held you, his face buried on your stomach while your fingers delved into his silky, silvery hair. For a moment, the two of you breathed in sync, basking in the silence that followed.

It wasn't the first time you'll be in his bedroom at Suguru's place, but you've never really taken the time to look at the finer details. The condo he kept lacked personality, practically uninhabited and telling you nothing about the person in front of you. But in the space you found yourself in, you saw more of his essence.

Satoru was surprisingly organized. You already knew he had a taste for expensive things and he could probably afford to get new things whenever he pleases, but what he has, he obviously takes care of. You sort of expected him the opposite considering his chaotic personality. But over that, his sunny disposition reflected in his little corner of the world, too. Despite his preference for dark-toned accents, everything was bright and warm and cozy.

You looked around, taking in the small details. How his shelves were lined with books, a lot of them, the ones he pays attention to the most looking more battered than the rest, surprisingly turning out to be about aliens and mysteries. Or how there were a variety of tiny Lego people purposefully scattered in very random spots in little worlds of their own in animated suspension. One, you've noticed, was a pair standing under a cherry tree bonsai on an a corner table by the veranda.

You've guessed at it, but he really keeps a stash of sweets within reach from a small bowl of assorted candy by his nightstand to an actual gumball machine filled with Skittles near his desk. He always tasted a bit sugary when you kissed him and you doubted it was just whatever he uses to "take care of his smoochers," as he had termed it. Speaking of which, there were several lip balms lying around by his candies.

Satoru keeps a piece of home through a framed photograph of him with his parents on his other nightstand and surrounds himself with the people he cares about through random printed snapshots tacked to a corkboard by his desk.

"What's funny?" he asked.

You didn't even realize you were laughing until he mentioned it, your eyes trained to the photo you remembered taking with Suguru, Shoko and him when they first introduced the two of you. From the get-go he came on too strong, slinging an arm around your shoulders much to your annoyance. You wondered how it would be if you never got to know him, the warmth in your chest suddenly ebbing away as you looked down to meet his gaze.

Ignoring his question, you said, "I've decided..." You breathed in deeply, letting go of all the tension in your body as you focusrd in Satoru's warmth around you. You gently placed either of your hands on the sides of his face, looking at him as if he will disappear anytime. "I've decided to give myself what I want before I go to London."

His grip tightened around you at the mention of you leaving. "And what is it that you want?"

You smiled. "This guy with the bluest eyes I've ever seen."

He let out a chuckle, unable to help it despite himself. Giving in to his cheeky self, he lifted you up by the back of your thighs, making you yelp in surprise. He settled you on the bed with a slight bounce, laughter lighting up his countenance as he hovered over you. "Then you shall have him."

Reaching up, you pulled him down to you, slinging both of your arms around his neck as you kissed him, soft and easy, deliberately taking your precious time to savor his taste and every heartbeat which seemingly skipped at his bidding. And he returned the gesture in kind if not more until all you could feel was him and nothing else, trapping you into this bubble with nothing but the two of you.

"Stay with me," he spoke against your lips, speaking to your very soul, imploring. But you couldn't answer him; can't promise him something you couldn't give, and so you held on to him tightly as he lay his head against your chest.

If only time was kinder and stopped for your sake, you would give everything that you have just to make it so. It may not be the case, but you still wanted to make the best out of the time you two have left.

"Satoru..."

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20240321]

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