#fresh dog food company

[yodoggo]

[notafunkiller]

out of style

Summary: A year after your divorce, you and Bucky come face to face at your closest friends' wedding. Emotions run high, leading to a fiery confrontation that takes a detour to Bucky's hotel room, where the old flame might just reignite.

Pairing: ex-husband!Bucky Barnes x female reader

Warnings: 18+, teasing, dirty talk, pet names, daddy kink, fingering, oral séx, no condom (but f is on birth control), language, a little alcohol, no mention of y/n

Word Count: 7.2K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you'll enjoy it!

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

What an ass... He has no shame at all. And the worst part? You’re still somehow surprised by it. As if you haven’t known him for years.

You look away, making sure to take a sip from your wine before focusing on the conversation again. It’s Nat’s big day, and you’re so happy for her, but listening to this story for the seventh time is exhausting. Same reactions, too: “Wow, he’s so well trained.” or “The wedding bands didn’t fall even once. Enzo is fantastic.” He’s a trained dog, you don’t get why they’re so fucking impressed.

You give Nat a smile before you excuse yourself to go to the bar. Maybe you should get a cocktail, the wine tastes terrible. On the way, you notice Steve talking to Miss Sunshine in the right corner, and you just nod toward him politely, trying to look unbothered. It’s his best friend’s girlfriend after all. What did you expect? Plus, maybe it’s just a polite conversation.

“A Sex on the Beach, please,” you murmur to the bartender.

“Vodka so early?”

You turn your head with a sigh just to see a guy you recognize from Nat’s engagement party. A fresh haircut, a simple suit and wandering eyes.

“Is there a time limit for a cocktail?” you respond, rolling your eyes when you notice he is still fixated on your chest.

He immediately raises his hands in defense as he takes a seat next to you.

God, if you hate one thing about being single besides the lack of sex is this… needing to deal with those men. It was perfect when Bucky used to take care of them.

“I didn't mean it like that, sweetheart.” You scrunch your nose instantly. God no!

“Here you go!” The bartender places the glass gently in front of you, and you’ve never been more grateful to see her.

“Thank you!” You smile before taking a huge sip, hoping it will turn him off and make him get away.

“A vodka tonic for me.” His tone is commanding, and you try not to roll your eyes again as he leans in closer. “We’re matching.”

“Huh?” You choke.

“Vodka lovers.”

Alright, time to get out of here!

You quickly grab your glass and stand up, making sure to fix your dress just in case, but his eyes are already on your breasts again. For fuck’s sake! How is he Steve’s cousin?

And talking about Steve, you almost jump when you hear him saying your name.

“Hey.” You’ve never been happier to see him.

You can’t say the same thing about his friend, who’s right next to him, looking the creepy blondie up and down.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks with obvious concern.  “Do you feel okay?”

“Hey, man! The food is great and the company even better. Look at her, such an eye candy, am I right?” He chuckles at his own disgusting comment. “I mean, you’re married. Don’t answer that, I don’t want Romanoff on my back.” And after all of this, he has the audacity to wink at Steve. But before you can throw your cocktail over his shirt and make a scene, Bucky’s already getting in front of you, blocking your view with his huge back.

“If you want to keep your teeth, get the fuck out of here and never, ever get even within three feet of my wife. Am I fucking clear?”

His tone is so cold, harsh, and arrogant at the same time, but also so possessive. It surprises both: you and Steve, because he immediately looks at you confused before dropping his eyes on your hand.

He must be looking for a ring.

God, you never hated Bucky more than when you see blondie standing up and going straight outside just like that. It makes you even angrier because it’s always a man who has to explain the obvious signs to these assholes so they leave. You say no? You are playing hard to get. You are with a man? Then it’s all off-limits.

You sip your cocktail with frustration, the taste of vodka lingering on your tongue.

Then, you take a step toward Bucky, grabbing his arm and turning him so he can face you. “Listen and listen good, I’m not your wife and I don’t need you to play the macho hero! I can handle myself, so back off!” You wanted to leave after saying this, but the way he looks at you makes you change your mind. His eyes softened, showing a trace of your old Bucky, and it only pisses you off more. He labeled you just like that... “I divorced you for a reason, I’m not your property or responsibility. Stay out of my fucking business or I’ll show you exactly how well I can take care of myself!”

You hand him your half-full glass and storm out, seeing red. Or well, blue.

You anticipated that he’d come after you, of course you did. You know him, as much as you hate to admit. You still know him well. Too well.

And when you hear his sigh behind you, you don’t jump.

“You can handle yourself, but he was all over you. Sorry for being a gentleman.” He apologizes sarcastically. “I guess old habits die hard.”

“Too bad, Barnes! I am not your little wife. I am not your girlfriend. I am not even your friend.” You turn your head to look at him as he’s standing on the other side of the balcony. “And I am not that flavor of the month of yours, you have to kill these habits.”

He raises his head. “Flavor of the month?”

“Yeah, your plus one. You know, you should take care of her instead of trying to play hero and calling me your wife.”

“Keeping an eye on me? He smirks. “Thought you divorced me for a reason.”

Fuck him! He thinks he got you... “I did! You couldn’t open your mouth to say what bothers you, remember?”

“Well, I opened my mouth to do something else, far more exciting.”

You gasp, incredulous at his audacity.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You scream, walking toward him. “Seriously!”

“What is wrong with me? You tell me! You divorced me for a reason.”

“Don’t you have someone else to bother? Fuck off already, Bucky!”

“You got angrier with me now than back there with him. Unbelievable!” He shakes his head.

You take a deep breath, trying not to have a crisis. You are not gonna let him get to you. “Look, can you just pretend this didn’t happen?”

He instantly looks at you shocked as he leans in. “This as in,” he waves between you two. “Our marriage? You think I can pretend our marriage never happened?” His voice grew louder, his words punctuated by sharp, angry inflections. “You think just because we divorced, you get to ask me that? How can you...”

You’re taken completely aback by his whole attitude, and it’s like you’re back in time at your wedding as he made you sneak out so he can make you come on his tongue after saying all sorts of things.

You don’t know why you suddenly remembered that, but you need to snap out of it.

“I meant the whole interaction, you annoying man!”

“How was I supposed to know?” He looks much more relaxed now, though, and before you can think about it, you’re poking his chest.

“Why would I tell you to forget about our marriage, Bucky?” You smile. “You are more than free to think about me as you fuck your little flavor of the month. I am not gonna stop that.”

You see his eyebrows raise instantly as his gaze drops to your finger. “My little flavor of the month? How many times did you think about me fucking her?” His hand finds your wrist. “Did you wonder if I’m fucking her from behind as I choke her? Did you imagine me coming all over her tits? Did you-”

You grab his cheeks, just the way he likes it, to stop him.

“You think I have nothing better to think about? I have my own dicks that occupy my thoughts,” you lie through your teeth, and he knows it. God, he knows it as he chuckles right away.

“What’s so funny, Barnes?” You let go, expecting him to do the same, but he’s still holding your other wrist.

“You have no dick to think about. I know you broke up with your last flavor of the month, honey.”

He knows how much you hate being mocked with the word honey, but you bite the inside of your cheeks. “It’s funny really,” you fake giggle, looking up at him. “You assume I don’t have someone already. Maybe I’m just enjoying my life after our divorce... new dick every month since I am a free woman. I don’t even need something serious. You know how much I love sex.”

His smile immediately drops, his face reddening.

“You are absolutely infuriating!” Even his tone carries a sense of irritation.

“Aww, what happened?”

It’s his turn to grab your face, making you gasp. You don’t remember the last time he touched you, and you’re shivering.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game, and you know it!”

“I don’t play games, Bucky, that is your specialty.” You smile, trying to maintain your composure. “Now let me go and get back to your little girlfriend. You can be mad about how many dicks she thinks about.”

“You can’t do the whole non-attachment shit. I know you well, don’t forget that. You’re my...” He talks so fast you’re surprised he stopped. You know what he was gonna say, of course you know. The audacity!

“I am not your wife, Bucky. You literally have a woman with you here tonight. We divorced, we live in separate places, and we fuck different people.”

“Who are you fucking, huh?” He almost spits the last words. “Tell me! Nat said you’re single.”

“You’ve been asking Nat about my personal life?” And she is spilling to him? No way.

“Fuck...” he frowns, dropping his hand from your face. “No.”

“Steve!” You realize. “God, this is pathetic! Why do you keep tabs on me, huh? Can’t you just mind your own business? Is your life goal to piss me off?”

“I’m not the one calling Jessica the flavor of the month.”

“Ha!” You laugh in his face. “Well, you have no success in getting a girlfriend. And they all look pretty familiar.” You can’t hide the venom in your voice. “The differences are they’re just taller and with less in the chest department. Quite interesting, don’t you think?”

“So you’re keeping tabs on me too!”

“You flatter yourself. It’s quite obvious, look at Jessica. Does she know you were married to me? Does she beg you to fuck her mouth? Does she...” You take a deep breath. “Does she call you daddy, James? Does she ride you until you lose control and turn her on her back so you can pound her?” You don’t care anymore. Right or wrong, you’re gonna let it all out. “Do you praise her? Tell her how wet she is for you? How your cock is made for her? Do you... do you tell her you love her while she’s coming? Do you fucking call her your good girl?”

“Jesus-” You don’t let him continue his sentence, interrupting him.

“Does she take you like I did? Does she beg for you because she feels empty, James? Does she? Did any of them?”

“Stop. It.”

“Why? You didn’t stop!”

He sighs, reaching out to grab your cheeks gently. “No one does, are you happy? I don’t even fucking try. I don’t let anyone call me daddy, I don’t choke anyone and I definitely don’t fuck anyone like I fucked you. Are you happy? Seeing me miserable and pathetic? Are you enjoying it?”

You can’t deny the satisfaction and relief you feel when you hear that. Dating post-him was a very bad experience overall, so him not upgrading, indeed, in any way, makes you feel victorious. At least, you’re both suffering.

“Yeah, I actually enjoy that.”

“What about you?” He snaps. “Do you do all of that?”

“I don’t want to be called daddy, James.”

“You know exactly what I meant! You call those losers daddy? You choke around their cocks? Do you beg for their small dicks to go deeper and finish yourself off after it?”

“Like I begged for your small dick?” You ask annoyed, knowing how dumb this lie is, but what else can you say? No one compares to him and never will.

His response shocks you as he reaches down to the zipper of his worn jeans and pulls it down.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you crazy?”

“Wanted to, you know… give you more mocking material in case you forgot how small it is.”

You have to think twice about what to say because the first thought was: I have enough videos, thanks. But you can’t. You can’t expose yourself like that.

“James, what the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to hurt me?”

“With my small dick?”

You look away for a few seconds, not wanting him to read you. “Why are you doing this? We divorced, you’re seeing someone, I’m good by myself... just let it go.”

He smiles at that, and you realize you indirectly told him you are indeed not fucking anyone.

“Why would I let go of my wife?”

You’re slapping his chest before you realize what you’re doing. “Stop this, Bucky! Just fucking stop.”

He’s hurting you, how can he not see that?

“You said you divorced me for a reason. You said...” he pauses. “You ordered me to leave you alone. Well, what if I don’t want to?”

“What are you, a fucking stalker?”

“No!” He almost screams. “I am fucking in love with you, you infuriating woman!”

“W-what?”

He can’t be joking about this, can he? He is not cruel. He is not vile. This isn’t a game.

“I’m in love with you. I love you. You own me... you fucking control me.”

“How?”

He laughs hysterically, running his hands through his hair before pulling. “I am fucking obsessed with you: how you are, if you’re doing well, if you miss me, if you’re fucking someone else, if your date went great, if you regret being with me, if someone else makes you smile wider. I dream about you, I am so miserable I couldn’t be with anyone. With Mia it lasted a month. I wasn’t... I wasn’t okay. I am not okay.”

You look at him, waiting for more. “Go on and zip your jeans, we’re in public.” You  watch him quickly do what you demand before you continue. “And what about Jessica tonight? Or Alexa a month ago? Why are you lying to me?”

“It’s not real. Jessica... I was just trying to make you jealous, okay? I was sneaking looks all night, have you not noticed at all?”

You don’t smile, despite your huge instinct to. Instead, you cross your arms, watching him drop his gaze straight to your boobs.

“Why would I notice, James?”

“Well, how did you notice Jessica looking a little like you, that she’s with me here?”

Fair point...

“Just...” You’re suddenly gripped by this crazy urge to just fuck him right here. You even regret telling him to zip back up. You could have just lifted your dress as he lowered his briefs and took out his cock. And just like that, you could have just fucked against the wall or something. You would have let him rip off your panties too. You just need his cock so badly! “Shut the fuck up!” You snap, grabbing him by his neck so he can lean in enough for you to be able to kiss him. And oh, you kiss him!

You don’t have to fight to dominate the kiss, surprisingly, because he lets you. He lets you bite his lip and almost draw blood, he lets you unzip his pants again and push down his unfit-for-a-wedding jacket, and most importantly, he lets you be his again, as pathetic as that might sound. You feel him emotionally, not just physically.

Without wasting more time, you drop to your knees, making sure only your dress and shoes touch the floor directly. You drag down his pants and briefs at the same time from your position, and he looks at you surprised.

“I thought we’re in public and you were fucking some-” his words die as you bring your tongue to the head of his cock, tasting the precum, but not sucking even a little bit.

“Weren’t you saying something?” You tuck your hair strands behind your ears as you mock him. You love being on your knees for Bucky. He has this dominant energy, but he always makes you feel in power even when he fuck your mouth. And you enjoy it, you feed on it. One of the reasons you missed him so much. And he can take mocking. “Please go on. I am all ears.” You breathe out on his dick. “And tongue.”

“Oh god,” Bucky’s voice is a moan at this point, and you laugh. So easy...

“I’m your god now? Aww! Come on, do I have to do everything tonight?”

He looks down at you confused. His blue eyes are almost grey, and you know he’s on cloud nine already just because you’re there.

“What?”

“Oh, you need translation. Well,” it’s all you say before wrapping your lips around his dick and using both of your hands to push him as deep as he can go inside your mouth. He moans at the same time you gag, and his balls slap you in the face. He instinctively looks at you to ask if you’re okay, but you are more than okay. You are fucking alive. You encourage him to fuck your throat at this point by squeezing his ass cheeks and touching his balls.

“God, look at you! That pretty black dress…” He pulls out and back in not as forcefully as he can, but enough to make you start tearing up quickly. “On your knees for your man. That mouth!”

You find yourself moaning at the feel of his fingers grasping and tugging at your hair. Jesus, how you missed this...

“You have the sweetest mouth.” Does he even realize what he’s mumbling? “I could die right here. Right now,” he says and thrusts harder, which makes you close your eyes. You can barely see anything because of the tears, and he’s already close. “My pretty baby, my fucking girl.”

You’re getting wetter and wetter the more he talks, and it’s crazy. You’re cold and your jaw is hurting, yet you love this.

“Not caring if someone can catch us, just making sure you mark me again. God, I'm gonna come, baby. Gonna... should I p-pull-”

You don’t let him finish his sentence as you grab his ass to make sure you keep him there, in your throat, as he comes while moaning your name.

When he finishes, he immediately helps you stand up, before he kisses you desperately, his tongue immediately licking your bottom lip to get access. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You moan in the middle of the kiss because his semi-hard cock is right where you need it, and it’s like torture...

“Need to taste you, okay, baby?” He asks with so much need in his voice. He sounds so whipped. “Need my pussy. Can I take you to my room?”

That is perfect, a dream at this point. But you need to make him a little more desperate.

“But the wedding… They would kill us.”

“I am sure you care sooooo much about this wedding and Nat’s stories. More than about getting my tongue on that pretty clit of yours and making you come all over my face.”

You can’t hold back your laughter.

“Fair point, Mr. Barnes. I deserve my orgasms, especially after listening to you pathetically trying to seduce me by admitting how desperate you are.”

“You dropped to your knees on this balcony just to mark my cock as yours.”

You pull his hair a little. “You said it yourself, it's already mine. Now get that ugly jacket and carry me.”

Bucky snorts, kissing your cheek. “You bought me that ugly jacket.”

“I know.”

*

You don’t know where you left your phone and even though you should feel panicked, you don’t. All you can focus on is Bucky taking off your dress and groaning at the sight of your cups. You couldn’t wear a full bra, so you improvised. They could barely hold your breasts, but no nipples showing? Win.

“Hurry up!”

“Jesus,” he moans and reaches for your cups. Desperate man... you roll your eyes, but let him uncover your breasts and grab them into his hands eagerly. He’s not just holding them, he looks and touches them as if he’s never seen boobs in his entire life, let alone yours.

“James...” You sigh, throwing your head back in pleasure when he finally gets your nipple into his mouth. Your hand finds his hair instantly, and you watch him suck happily while playing with your other nipple.

“You’re quite hungry,” you say with a smile, stroking his hair. You missed this so much. His need to always touch or sleep on your boobs, the way he grabs them while he’s pounding you... You shiver in anticipation when he switches to the other tit.

“Fucking shit, I missed them so much.”

You snort. “My boobs?”

“Mine.” He’s not sucking anymore, he’s eating them, shocking you.

“H-hold on a second, Bucky. They’re breasts, not my clit.”

“It’s been a year, love. Let me get my fill. I died without them. Died!”

As much as you wanted to think only about the part he missed your boobs, you can’t help the jealousy that clouds your mind. You were divorced, yet the image of him sucking someone else’s tits makes you want to hit a wall. Mia all over him... You pull his hair angrily. “You surely had other tits in your mouth, Bucky, for the past year. Don’t pretend this is any different.”

He immediately stops sucking. “You... you can’t believe this. Tell me you don’t believe this.”

You look away, too proud to face him. “What am I supposed to believe, huh? It’s been one fucking year.”

“I’ve been yours this whole year. I’ve been thinking about you, fucking my fist while watching... our videos, as fucked up as it might be. I tried to date, but I failed, and trust me, it has nothing to do with the size of my dick and my age. No one is you. No one smells like you or talks like you. No one is my brat with the god complex.”

“God complex?” You raise your eyebrow, keeping your face straight. “Fuck you.”

“I will fuck it out of you as I usually do, don’t worry.”

“Then why does it keep coming back?”

He chuckles. “Because you want to get fucked all the goddamn time.”

“Like you don’t!” You puff. “Come on, I breathe in your direction and you get hard, Bucky.”

“Did you see yourself? Did you have sex with yourself? You cannot judge me!” He grabs your breasts again. “There is no comparison, okay? You have no rival. Never did, never will.”

“That’s all?” You puff, amused. “My looks?”

“Do I even have to say… Your god complex exists for a fucking reason. You’re the smartest, most sarcastic, and feistiest person I’ll ever meet. One mocking comment, and you know how I get.”

“Pathetic?” You mock him on purpose just to get the reaction he is talking about. You love it when he compliments you.

“Is this why you divorced me? Cause I am a pathetic son of a bitch?”

You  take a deep breath. “I divorced you because you refused to communicate properly with me anymore, and you know it.”

“So not because of my small dick, either,” he remarks, making you roll your eyes.

“No, your small dick is one of the reasons I am here.”

Bucky dramatically touches his heart. “So you’re using me for my sex skills!”

“As if you don’t beg me to use you. Come on, put that mouth to good use before Nat comes after us.”

He doesn’t disappoint as he finally rips your underwear off, just like you fantasized about, and you use this as the perfect opportunity to fish for more.

“What happened, Jamie? So eager. Aren’t you a little good-”

The word boy comes out as a moan when you feel his index finger curled up inside you suddenly.

“What happened, honey? Too big for you?”

“Dick!”

“You’ll get that. I just need to erase the memories of having little pencils in here. That must have been traumatic.”

“You’re such a jerk!” You snort, but he’s right. It was really bad.

Bucky shrugs, finally kneeling properly between your legs before lifting them on his shoulders. God, yes!

“Gonna give my pussy some loving.”

“D-didn’t know you have a pussy, James.”

He smiles against your inner thigh. “I certainly keep what I lick.”

“Eww, what the fuck.”

He snorts, kissing your slit. “I am joking, baby. Tried to imitate one of those dicks you thought you could replace me with.”

Petty fucking bitch! You grab him by his hair and push him closer to your pussy.

“Shut the fuck up and eat!”

His tongue feels like heaven, indeed, on your clit. You’ve lost count of how many times you remembered him eating you out so you can come this year. He's just so good at eating your pussy.

You let out a satisfied sigh when he adds a second finger. You start to feel like before… like you and Bucky are still married and with no problem. Like you're happy. He makes you so happy. Made.

So you stare at his hair and stroke it as he sucks on your clit, completely squashed between your thighs, and try to hold back your tears.

When he adds his third finger and starts tracing eight figures on your clit with his tongue before he flattens it, you know you’re about to come.

There is something about the way he always manages to make you vulnerable even if it’s not intentional, to cut you open and get in... and you don’t want it to be over. You can’t let him go again after tonight. You’d suffocate.

Your efforts to delay your orgasm and not tear up are futile because when he sucks a little harder, you come and start sobbing somehow. The orgasm is strong and even though you’d want to watch Bucky, you close your eyes, letting yourself go, and shut your mind down for a second. Everything feels so overwhelming. So amplified…

You’re grateful he doesn’t stop fucking you with his fingers, either, even though you felt him hesitating when he heard you crying. You really needed this.

As soon as you finish, you drop your legs, furiously trying to wipe your face. He knows the difference between crying because of a crazy orgasm and you being emotional. He instantly gets back on the bed next to you and pulls you into the tightest hug you’ve had in two years.

“God, I’m...” You don’t know how to continue this phrase. You should not feel sorry for crying and you’re not pathetic for it. “I m-missed you so much, Bucky. Why did you give up?”

You feel his warm breath on your forehead. “I never gave up, baby, I swear.”

“B-but you did. You didn’t even try for more than six months. When I told you...” You take a deep breath. “That I want a divorce, you didn’t even look at me. Once, Bucky! Not even once…” You show him your index finger. “You simply agreed. You gave up on us. I was waiting for you to say: no, let’s try. No, I’ll communicate. Your words...” You sob. “Your words would have been enough for me. You should know that.”

“Oh my god, baby, please, breathe!” He kisses your forehead over and over again. “I never gave up, I swear. I wanted to say no, I wanted to tell you all of that, but you asked me for divorce. It felt like you wanted out. You were tired of fighting... you were tired of me. And I didn’t want to tell you to stay just so you could either stay with me out of pity or reject me. I would have died... To look at you and beg, and to see you detached.”

You shake your head into the crook of his neck. He cannot...

“How would I be detached if I tried for six months? How would I get tired of you?”

“Exactly. You tried for six months. I thought you snapped out of it...”

“Out of what?” You whisper, scared to say it louder, but he hears you anyway.

“Out of love.”

You immediately lift your head to look at him. He’s crying, too. “Bucky...” You bring your fingers to his cheeks and start to caress them.

“I just couldn’t remember us like this. I couldn’t look into your eyes and see you staring at me like I’m a stranger.”

“Jesus Christ, when did we fail to communicate this much?”

He knows you don’t expect an actual answer, so instead of speaking, he holds you, and kisses you, and makes you giggle.

The more you move into his lap, the better you feel his erection pressing against your pussy. So close, yet so far.

He groans, placing his hands on your hips. “Careful.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be careful. I want you to fuck me raw right now.”

“Right now? He snorts, using his position to his advantage and moving. And just like that, you’re suddenly pressed with your back against the bed, and his mouth covers the valley between your breasts. That didn’t take a lot of convincing.

“Did you fuck anyone else without protection?” You ask unsure how to formulate it without it sounding a little weird. You’re not even sure you want to know the answer if it’s positive, but still.

“No. Only condoms and well... to be honest more my fist,” he chuckles, helping you get on your back again by bringing a pillow under your head. “I tested myself, of course.”

You nod, trying to hide your happiness. You selfishly wanted this: no one but you to feel him without any barrier.

“Good.”

“What about you?”

“No one for me, either.”

You would laugh at his proud face if you didn’t know he might use it to tease you later. You can use it too, though.

“Come on, baby, spread your legs for me. Daddy’s home.”

You laugh surprised, but you do what he says. You really missed having him between your legs.

Needy, you reach for his T-shirt, that for some reason is still on, and you tug it down, showing him you want it off.

He hesitates for a couple of seconds too long before grabbing his T-shirt by the neck.

“Come on, what did you do? Got a tattoo?”

You get your answer as soon as he’s finally naked.

“Oh, God!” You instantly lift your hand so you can grab his necklace. “What the fuck, James...”

“I told you I never gave up on us.”

“So you’re telling me you’ve been keeping it on since we divorced?”

He blushes, looking away. “Yeah.”

“Even when you were with other girls?”

Your heart is racing.

“Never took it off.”

You giggle, touching the surface of the ring over and over again.

“No wonder why nothing worked.”

“I had no intention to make it work.”

You say nothing, just looking into his eyes and letting him see how fucking much you love him, how he could never be a stranger, and you kiss him, wrapping your legs around his ass to show him what you need.

“I want you to pound me, okay? I want to feel you for days, do you hear me? I am so wet and ready. Please, just fuck me!”

You shiver a little when you feel the back of his hand brushing against your clit while he brings his cock to your entrance.

“Gonna make you mine again, alright? Gonna make you forget this year and everyone who,” He finally thrusts inside you. “Tried to get you.”

He’s thick. Really thick, and you can’t believe how you managed to survive without this stretched-out feeling for a whole fucking year.

“I hate you so much!’

He snorts. “I am pretty sure you love me. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have my cock inside you after one year.”

“This is the problem!” You hiss when he pulls almost completely out. “One year, Bucky!”

“Aww!” He says a bit mockingly before thrusting all the way in again. Oh my God... you close your eyes. “Is this your bratty way of telling me you missed my small dick?”

“Bratty? You think this is bratty?” You ask him sarcastically before bringing a hand to his ass. “Harder!”

“Harder, huh?” He quickly unwraps your legs and turns you on your belly before you can react.

You gasp, shocked by how fast he is and hating the emptiness, but he ignores it, bringing a pillow under your pussy.

“Ass in the air, come on.”

You comply immediately, staring at his face from the side. He looks like he’s on a mission, with his hair already in all directions and the wedding band hanging around his neck.

The first thing you feel is his mouth on your ass cheek, licking on a spot before biting.

You hiss. “James!” It hurts, not more than a spanking, but you weren’t ready for that.

“Mine.”

You snort, wiggling your ass. “Yeah, yeah. Now gimme my cock.”

And he does. He so does, he’s not slowly entering you, no. He pushes in almost fully with only one thrust, making you bite into your pillow.

“You missed that, didn’t you? The way I fill you up is so good. The way...” He slaps your ass. “No one can make you feel so good. No one can fuck you like the desperate whore you are for my cock.”

You moan loudly into the pillow. You love being called a whore like this. Because he is right and he is obsessed with it, anyway. “B-Bucky...”

“Tell me whose cock you love? Tell me.”

He’s thrusting so fast at this point that you can barely even hear him.

“Bucky.”

“No, no, no. That is not what you call me like this.”

“James...”

He suddenly stops thrusting, and you whine, lifting your spinning head to look at him over your shoulder. No matter how much you try to tilt your hips to make him move, you fail.

“If you want to get fucked, baby, you gotta call me the right-”

“Daddy. Daddy, daddy. Happy now?”

He rolls his eyes, obviously not that happy with your tone.

You smirk.

“I see you need a lot of battiness fucked out of you.”

“Then why are you not fucking me, daddy?”

“Oh, goddamn it!” He’s not holding back now, moving like he used to. “Tell me, baby. Tell me you love me... that no one, fuck- no one is like me!”

His voice tinges with a hint of neediness... maybe even urge. His vulnerability takes you a little aback because it’s stronger than his mocking. He’s genuinely seeking for reassurance as he gazes at you with a mixture of desire, desperation and longing. He’s searching for validation in your eyes the way you were earlier, so you give it to him.

“You’re the only one for me, J-James. I love you forever. I never... I n-never stopped!” You can’t keep your head up a second longer as you drop it on your pillow, moaning.

“We’re getting married tomorrow.”

You half-snort, half-moan. “W-we can’t.”

“We can.” The sound of his balls slapping against your pussy almost covers the sound of his voice.

“We... we have to apply first.”

He spanks your ass again, and you scream, the sudden pain making you feel so good.

“So wet for me. They stood no chance. T-they don’t know how hard you want it.”

“Daddy, please... Please!” You’re a moaning mess. You just need a little harder. Just a little.

You’re not sure if you’re gonna have a voice after this. He’s pounding you so hard.

“My good, good girl.” He’s squeezing your hips, and the sound of your skin slapping is echoing. “God, gonna come for me? Jesus, wanna fill you up with my come too. Please, baby.”

You don’t know when or how he manages to do it, but he sneaks one of his hands under your body and pinches your nipple. You gasp, the wave of pleasure hitting you as he keeps fucking you. You feel your body weakening when he says your name over andl over again, but you don’t open your eyes for a while, letting him fuck you desperately while playing with your breast.

“Gonna- fuck, take my come, wife! Take me!”

He’s coming so much... surprisingly much even for him. You can feel him dripping down your thighs even when he slows down, then stops his movements before he falls on top of you as soon as he finishes.

“James...” You groan. “You’re heavy.”

He places a small kiss on your back, and you giggle.

“I love you.”

You melt, but he moves to the side before you can reach for his cheeks.

“I love you, too.” You kiss him. “So much that I let you drag me out of my best friend’s wedding reception.”

Bucky snorts, brushing his nose against your face. “Pretend all you want, I know you were bored as fuck.” You feel him slowly pulling out of you, and you whine. It’s a little uncomfortable. “Sorry, wifey.”

“I’m not your wife yet.”

“Yet, but you were and you will be again this week.” He takes your ring finger into his mouth.

“Bucky!”

“What? We need new rings.”

You try to pull out your finger. “No, we don’t. I have mine.”

“We need...”

“How about we use all that money for a vacation instead?”

“Neah, honeymoon is honeymoon.”

He finally lets your finger go. “We are not buying other wedding bands.”

“I am not debating a new engagement ring, though.”

You roll your eyes, but you know it’s the best deal you can get.

“Fine, a new engagement ring,” you agree while rolling ro his side and placing your head on his chest. “I don’t wanna move.”

“Don’t want to or can’t?”

You decide to surprise him by biting a spot right above his nipple. He groans while you simply laugh.

“You just can’t be subtle, can you?”

“If you’d wanted subtle you’d have gone for someone like Steve.”

“Eww, Bucky. I have your come dripping out of me and you bring up Steve?”

“You literally talked about Nat a sec ago.”

Then, as if a switch was flipped, your eyes widen. “Oh shit, my phone!”

“Where did you forget it?” Bucky asks casually, so used to gathering your things for you. You really missed that, too.

“Table. God... Do you think they know?”

“Know what?” He giggles, raising both of you until your backs touch the headboard. “That you dropped on your knees in the middle of the wedding to suck my cock? Or how I fucked you raw until you cried.” A sudden realization crosses his face. “You asked me to fuck you raw. Are you... still on the pills?”

You roll your eyes. “You think I’d let you fuck me like this for the first time we talked to each other properly since we divorced if there was a big chance to get pregnant?”

“I assume you are still on the pills, don’t be patronizing!” He kisses your nose, which he knows tickles you.

Ass...

“You are asking a dumb question instead of getting your ass downstairs to bring me my phone.”

“How is that dumb? I wanted to know if I should get you a pill or something.”

“So you don’t want babies with me!” You try not to laugh as you say it, biting your lip to keep your face serious.

“Why do you act as if I told you I don’t want a baby with you?” He chuckles when he sees you pouting. “We’re just getting back together and no way you’d want a baby now. But if I am wrong, let’s go for it. I can give you a baby, just get off the pills.”

“You don’t give me a baby, James. We have a baby together!”

He sighs, getting off the bed to get his clothes back on. “Obviously, but I am the one coming inside you. This is what I meant. I am all in. But we need some adapting time at least.”

You should stop this whole teasing-testing thing. You both have the same opinion after all. You might have a baby, and you know he’d be involved one hundred percent, but not now. Absolutely not.

“I know. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re such a tease.” He snorts, putting on his pants. “Before I go, do you want me to run you a bath or should I bring you a towel?”

“Do you plan on staying there?”

He turns his head to you instantly. “Yeah, sure. I am gonna eat some steak and brag about fucking my wife.”

“Alright, alright. Bring me a snack and we can take a bath together. Actually,” you think about it better. “I’m gonna clean up and wait for you.”

“You want me to fuck you again, don’t you?” He asks as he fixes his jacket.

“Why? Is this all you could give me?”

“Oh, fuck you!”

“Sure.” You spread your legs at the same time you grab your own breasts, making him groan. It’s so easy to get to him. And it’s hilarious.

“Jesus, you’re planning to kill me.”

“Not you acting as if it’s the first time this happened.”

“It is the first time in over a year, baby.”

You feel yourself softening again. “True. Now, please, please, please, don’t give them any details and bring me a snack.”

“What snack?”

“Anything, make me a plate, I don’t care.” He nods before reaching for the keys. “Oh, and Bucky? Tell your flavor of the month you don’t need her anymore.”

“I told you she is not-”

“And tell Nat I’ll make it up to her!” You interrupt him before he can finish his sentence. You don’t need him to defend a random girl’s honor.

“You’re so jealous.”

“Lock the door!”

You giggle satisfied when he closes the door and let yourself scream out of happiness while staring at the bite he left on your ring finger. Mrs. Barnes never got out of style.

[featherandferns]

risk (fic)

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | partly inspired by this incredible scene

content warnings: sexual content; physical violence

word count: 18k.

blurb: after a hurricane, a Labrador shows up at JJ's house. After some posters go up around the country, JJ begrudgingly returns the dog to you on Figure Eight. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

This is actually insane.

JJ has no idea how everything went to shit faster than a penny falling from the top of the Empire State Building. It seems to be the crux of his life.

One minute Rafe is beating the shit out of JJ’s face, Kelce holding him tight in a headlock, with Pope being strangled to his right by Topper, and the next everyone is still like rock.

There you stand, holding up a gun, safety unlatched, with the aim set directly at the centre of Rafe’s forehead. He’s already called your bluff once. It’s a classic Mexican stand-off. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next, not even JJ. Hell, he’s not even sure if you know what you’ll do next.

And it’s crazy to think that all of this started because of a dog.

Two Months Earlier

It always sucks when JJ admits to himself that Kiara was right. She was right about most things, in fairness, but just this once – just for a change – he had hoped that she wasn’t.

The blonde-haired boy stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring at a poster taped to a streetlamp. His teeth gnaw on his lower lip in thought as he tugs the poster free, as if gaining a closer look might change what he sees.

MISSING DOG

IF FOUND PLEASE RETURN TO 12 SILVER CANOE WAY, FIGURE EIGHT

REWARD AVAILABLE

The picture is an uncanny reflection of the dog currently sat by JJ’s feet. He’s panting in the sun, blissfully unaware of the curveball tossed at his temporary owner. As JJ looks from the black-and-white poster to the middle-aged dog, he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that Kiara was right. This dog wasn’t a stray. Instead, he was the pet of some bratty, spoilt Kook.

“Whose dog is that?” Kiara asks.

JJ follows her gaze to the labrador cosied up on the porch, soaking up the sun like it was his God-given right.

“Mine,” he says.

“Yours?”

“Yeah, he just showed up after the hurricane."

It was true. The morning after the hurricane, JJ ventured out of his house to assess the damage only to hear a rustling and whimper from under the porch. Getting down on his hands and knees, expecting to find some beaten racoon, JJ came face to face with a petrified, middle-aged labrador. No collar. His cream coat was covered in dirt and dust and a small cut near his eye told JJ he’d found his way to his house during the hurricane, likely seeking shelter. After he coaxed him out with some fresh fish, the dog seemed to take a liking to the seventeen-year-old. JJ took it as the dog distribution system shining the light on him but Kiara didn’t seem so sure.

“And you’re just gonna claim him?”

“He’s a stray,” JJ tells her.

She looks to the dog again, then back to JJ. Her face essentially says, ‘seriously, dude?’

“He is!”

“A dog that well-groomed and that well fed is not a stray, and you know it.”

JJ’s stomach twists. He’d thought the same thing once he’d given the dog a wipe down. A full stomach, trimmed fur, trained to do more than just sit…Strays don’t come like that in Kildare County. But JJ liked the company the dog brought. He’d always wanted one, ever since he was a kid, but his dad would never allow it. Waste of money and food, he’d say. But so far, JJ had managed to keep the dog’s existence on the downlow. He wasn’t very loud or yappy. In fact, he was as calm as sea turtle. JJ liked the bond that had so quickly grown between them. So, swallowing the faint feeling of guilt of keeping someone’s dog, he tells Kiara:

“Well, until someone puts a poster up, I’m sticking to my gut. He’s a stray and he belongs with me.”

It’s like the universe was calling his bluff or something.

JJ crumples the poster in his fist, litters it on the street, and gently tugs on the leash.

“Come on, boy,” he mutters.

The dog gets to its feet and follows JJ down the street, back to the Chateau. He seems rather drained from the brief walk around the cut. Curls up by the front door in a patch of shade, yawning before nestling his head between his large paws for a nap. JJ watches him from the kitchen as he sips on a cold cider. His mind is in battle between right and wrong (as it usually is) as he contemplates the poster.

Kiara nearly falls over the dog as she walks into the Chateau. Then, she shoots a deadly glare to JJ.

“You didn’t go to the vet, did you?”

“Who actually microchips their pets, anyway?”

“Most people, JJ. It’s a clever way to make sure you get your dog back if, let’s say, it runs off in a hurricane without a collar,” Kie returns.

JJ rolls his eyes and takes another swig of his drink. “I’ll take him tomorrow.”

“Actually, there’s no need,” Kiara says. She walks across the room to him and pulls something from her back pocket. As she unfolds the rectangle of paper, JJ comes face to face with the very poster that had been occupying his mind for the past half hour. She holds it out to him.

“See? This is someone’s dog.”

“That could be any dog,” JJ lies.

Kiara quirks a brow. JJ breaks easily, sighing.

“Look, can we just consider the possibility that this dog would be happier with me?” JJ argues. He ditches his cider and makes his way over to the animal. “I mean, he likes me, Kie. And he listens to me. And I like having him around.”

Lowering to his knees, he pets the dog awake from his slumber. He makes an adorable grumbling-whine as he rouses from his sleep. Looking over to Kiara, JJ must resemble an eight-year-old begging their parents for candy at the grocery store.

“I’ll take good care of him,” he promises.

Kiara sighs. Her icy exterior softens, features overcome with sympathy. She joins him and the dog on the floor, scratching at the pet’s back.

“I know you will, JJ,” she says. “But this is someone’s pet. And they clearly want him back. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Since when do I ever do the right thing?” JJ mumbles. He looks down to meet the chocolate brown eyes of his new best friend.

“Since today, hopefully.”

JJ holds the dog’s gaze. There’s such tenderness in his eyes, as the dog stares up at him. Makes JJ feel as though he is the most important thing on this earth. Dogs don’t care about money or mind: you treat them right and give them a good stick, and they’ll be happy forever. Unconditional love like that is rare to find in humans. It seems to JJ like it’s almost impossible, really. But then he thinks of the dog looking at a little girl or boy like that, and how (as spoilt as they may be) the child feels nothing but love for the dog in return. It seems cruel to take that away. He knows deep down what the right thing is. The moral thing.

“Tomorrow,” JJ quietly says. Looking up, meeting Kiara’s eyes, he nods reluctantly. “I’ll take him to the house tomorrow.”

She smiles smally, nodding to herself. Getting to her feet, she leaves JJ alone with the dog to enjoy the last few hours of time together. He ends up falling asleep on the pull-out couch with the dog, face buried in the scruff of his neck, as he unconsciously counts down the hours left until he gives him back.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ stretches out the walk to the house for as long as possible. He lets the dog sniff at every scent and even tries to coax a million pee breaks out of him. He lingers by the sea, stroking the dog’s fur, and shares a hot dog as they pass a gas station. Eventually, they arrive at Figure Eight. The hurricane left the cell towers down on The Cut, so he didn’t bother with his phone. That leaves him to follow street signs until he’s making his way up Silver Canoe Way.

The houses are insane. Marvels of architecture and money. Bright green hedges trimmed into the most obscure shapes; useless statutes standing pretty in front gardens, protected by walls and security cameras. Fountains on almost every property, and a pool probably found in every back garden. Lucky sons of bitches.

House 12 is gorgeous: cream stone bricks and oak-style wood accents. There isn’t a gate, which is curious considering all the others down the road have one. JJ feels as though he’s trespassing as he makes his way up the driveway. There's not a single weed sprouting between paving slabs. There’re two cars in the driveway, each probably cost more than his life insurance pay-out. He imagines birds that dare shit on them get taxed: it’s the only way to explain their cleanliness. God, living like this and he can half understand why Kooks are as obnoxious as they are. What appear to be marble steps lead to a huge front door. The dog seems to know where he is, tugging excitedly on the leash as he guides JJ up the stairs.

JJ stands for a long moment. He looks down at the dog, takes in its wagging tail, and sighs. As he lifts his fist to rap against the door, it swings open. JJ is just as stunned as you. He doesn’t have time to apologise for startling you, because your eyes drop from JJ to the barking dog. You sink to the floor, mouth falling open, and willingly let your dog tackle you in a hug. His leash slips from JJ’s hold. You scruff the dog’s neck, press kisses all over his face, and giggle tearfully as your dog greets you after almost a week apart.

“Oh my God! Ranger! Oh my God!” you happily cry over and over again.

JJ immediately feels evil for even contemplating keeping your dog, Ranger, to himself.

The moment Ranger seems to gain some composure, you remember JJ’s existence. Looking up, you quickly wipe away your tears from under your eyes and clamber back to your feet.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry! I’m so rude!” you laugh, sticking out a hand. He shakes it as you introduce yourself.

“JJ,” he replies.

There’s a moment of recognition that passes over your face but it’s gone as soon as it comes, like the flash of green at sunset on the horizon.

“Thank you so much,” you say. One of your hands reaches down to ruffle at Ranger’s neck. JJ takes in how happy he is, staring up at you, grinning and panting, tongue out with exertion. “Where did you find him?”

“He kinda found me,” JJ replies, scratching the back of his neck. “Showed up under my house just after the hurricane. Guessing he got spooked or something.”

“That’s what we think happened,” you say. “I woke up to find the backdoor open. He must have jumped and bolted; he frightens easy, you see. I felt awful when I realised he was gone.”

As JJ listens to you speak, he’s partly distracted. It’s hard to follow along to what you say when you’re standing gorgeous like the first day of June.

“Well, like I said, it’s no trouble,” JJ repeats.

You smile brighter than a brand-new penny, teeth pearly white and perfect aligned. JJ doubts you ever needed braces. Probably born with a set of veneers. It’s with that bitter thought that he reminds himself what he’s dealing with here. A kook who lives in nothing short of a mansion, who can’t even keep her dog inside during a hurricane.

“The, uh, poster said something about a reward…” JJ awkwardly mentions.

Your face dawns with realisation and he momentarily feels guilty, but then you’re nodding fervently. “Of course! God, I can’t believe I forgot!”

“I mean, I would have brought him back anyway,” JJ bold face lies.

“No, don’t be silly, it’s the least I owe.” You pull your door open. “Come in, please,” you say, heading into your home.

JJ falters in the doorway. It feels as though even stepping into your home might put him short of a few hundred bucks, just from breathing the air. He follows the route you took into the house, closing the door behind him. The minute he’s out of the entryway and in the main corridor, his eyes widen like he’s witnessing a supernova.

“Holy super kook,” he mutters, gaping at the interior.

Marble everything. Expensive obnoxious artwork that must only be interpretable once you reach a certain tax bracket. Framed photos of yourself and your family on the wall at various vacation spots: France, Italy, Mexico, China. There are others, too, of dance recitals. A shelf of trophies and awards. Ornaments and figurines standing on podiums like he’s in a museum. JJ’s terrified to walk, as if one step might send everything falling off the walls.

He finds himself blindly following you into the kitchen. It’s crystal clean and white. Granite counter tops beautifully cluttered with every appliance you can imagine. You head to the fridge.

“You want a drink?”

“Uh, sure. Water’s fine, thanks,” JJ replies.

You nod and grab a glass that probably costs JJ’s entire monthly wage. Then you go to your fridge (it has a touchscreen for Christ’s sake) and dispense ice cold water. Holding it out to him, you smile, sweet like buttercream.

JJ sips and watches as you reach for a bag that lies on the kitchen counter, retrieving a wallet. Holding out two fifties, you wait for him to take them. His eyes stare at the unwrinkled notes. JJ’s momentary pause makes you frown.

“Sorry, that’s a bit tight of me, isn’t it?” you say. You dip into the bottomless wallet and retrieve another fifty. “Is that enough?”

“Uh, I couldn’t…” He clears his throat and finally snaps out of his stupor. Taking the money, he passes two fifties back, saying, “I can’t take all of this.”

You shake your head and push the money back towards him.

“I insist. You brought my dog back! I should be giving you more,” you say.

JJ holds back his laugh.

More? It’s a fucking dog! You’re about to give him $150 for a Goddamn seven-year-old labrador? God, Kooks really do just think different.

He looks up from the money and takes you in, properly this time. JJ recognises you. Not from keggers or house parties – he’s seen you at neither of those things – but from church. He used to be subjected to Sunday school in a desperate bid to ‘send him on the right life path’, and he could remember seeing you there. You’d attend the service, sat safe in your father’s shadow. Even though JJ stopped going, he’d still see people heading in the direction of the county church if he were in the area. You were a regular. Dressed in the prettiest dresses, hair perfect and proper, jewellery to the nines, always sandwiched between your mother and father. You didn’t indulge in the debauchery that most teenagers on the island did. JJ would know if he’d spotted you at one of the many hangs; you had the kind of beauty that demanded to be seen, like a rare bird on the marsh. No, girls like you didn’t partake in those things. You spent time with your parents and a small circle of Church friends, probably just as sheltered and saintly as yourself, and was in bed before sunset and awake before sunrise.  

And yet, you never rubbed JJ the wrong way like all the other Kooks did. He didn’t know you from Adam – in fact, the first time he’d ever shared a word with you was today – but something about you…You seemed different. Genuine. Rich, no doubt, but not exactly snobbish.

An idea suddenly comes to JJ. It’s stupid, and rather out of character given his prejudices, but for some reason, it’s miles more appealing than $150. A part of him wonders where his sudden charity is coming from. Maybe it’s something about your personality and his underlying infatuation he’s had with you since Sunday school. Maybe it’s your dog and how doting he appears to be of you. Hell, maybe it’s because you’re pretty. JJ’s always been a sucker for pretty girls – Kook or not – and he’s always wanted the things that he can’t have.

All these thoughts race through his head at a hundred miles an hour, and there’s only half a minute that passes before JJ speaks.

“How ‘bout this?” he says. “I take a fifty, and you let me take you out.”

You blink once, then twice. “Take me out? Like…on a date?”

“Yeah,” JJ nods. The fact that your whole face didn’t immediately shrivel up like a prune at the suggestion gives JJ hope that he might have a chance. “What’d you say?”

There’s a moment where your eyes dip down to Ranger. He’s sat at your feet, watching the two of you interact with his tongue hanging out, mouth in a seeming smile. The second your eyes lock with your dog's, you look back to JJ with new-found confidence.

“Depends,” you say, correcting your posture, chin held high. “What did you have in mind?”

JJ’s never had to pitch a date to a girl before in his life. Usually he asks and they’re there: hook, line and sinker. His brain thinks hard and fast. “I can pick you up. Go for a drive, grab a bite maybe. Get to know one another,” he says.

You quirk a brow. “Is that all?”

Of course, you have standards. Hell, the guys that court you probably dine you at The Ritz and gift you a Rolex. JJ isn’t deterred though. Instead, he’s rather amused.

With a boyish grin, he says, “princess, I promise one date with me and I’ll change your life forever.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Bold statement to make, Maybank.”  

JJ takes note of how you know his last name and thinks back to when he introduced himself; that strange flash of recognition on your face. You know who he is and yet, you’re entertaining the idea of letting him take you out. Curiouser and curiouser.

JJ doesn’t beg or barter. Instead, he just stares you down, waiting for your response as you visibly contemplate his offer. There’s a hint of a smile on your face, the type that might come when you’re trying to suss someone out. It’s barely there but JJ’s sure he can see it. He knows that look all too well.

“When would this be?”

JJ’s painfully aware of how desperate he may sound as he says, “Tomorrow night?”

“I have ballet practice tomorrow.”

“Thursday then.”

“Piano recital.”

“Jesus, woman,” he can’t help but mutter. It makes you smile.

“I’m free Friday,” you offer.

And, holy shit, no way you’re actually agreeing to this. JJ hopes the shock doesn't show on his face.

“Friday works. The, uh, cell towers are down on The Cut so how ‘bout I just pick you up? Seven thirty sound good?”

“Sure.”

You speak in a manner that tries to give the impression that this whole conversation is rather mundane to you. That you have Pogues asking you out every other hour, almost like a nine-to-five job.

“But pick me up on the street outside, not in the driveway.”

JJ doesn’t question it. He’s not going to argue to your terms when he’s somehow landed a date with the hottest, goody-two-shoes kook in Kildare.

“Alright. On the street, Friday at seven thirty. Wear something pretty, yeah?”

Your brows quirk. “Any other demands?”

“Yeah. Give me a fair chance?” JJ wonders, half-joking.

Your eyes flit from JJ’s face, down his body, right to his toes, and back again. Smiling, sweet like cotton candy, you reply, “I think I can do that.”

His body goes ice cold. JJ nods, cementing the dates and times in his memory like he’s remembering nuclear launch codes.

“Then, I guess I’ll see you soon, princess."

“I guess so,” you say, returning the leftover fifties to your wallet. JJ pockets his fifty, gives one last pet to Ranger in farewell, and shows himself to the front door. As it shuts behind him, JJ leans against it. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back. Then, he laughs. He laughs and laughs, mouth upturned in an astounded smile, and shakes his head.

“No fucking way,” he mumbles to himself.

John B is not going to believe this. None of the Pogues are.

Rubbing at his face in disbelief, JJ repeats, “no fucking way” one last time before walking down the driveway. He spares one last glance at the house. Friday. Seven-thirty.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ has never been one to care all that much about his appearance. Half of his clothes have a hole in them somewhere, whether it be on the collar or in a pocket, and his hair is constantly tousled with salt-water from the sea. He isn’t unclean though. He showers and shaves and washes his clothes (though perhaps not as much as he should). He doesn’t think he’s bad looking, either. Lived experience shows that to be true, as he’s never struggled to land a date or hook-up. But there’s something about you, something about this particular meeting, that has him turfing through his chest of drawers.

He’s pretty sure he’s settled on an outfit. It’s ironic that it looks almost thrown together when JJ’s spent fifteen minutes obsessing over it. He washed his hair with shampoo and conditioner (that he stole from Kiara) and even used some hair wax to try and style it. Again, it probably looks the same as usual, but he feels better for it.

All the faffing leaves him running late. It’s closer to 7:45 than 7:30 by the time JJ pulls up your road on his bike. He’s aware of how loud the engine is in this area, rumbling as he slows to a stop. You’re stood in the sidewalk, arms crossed anxiously over your chest, glancing up and down the street. As JJ approaches, your eyes fall on him and a nervous smile sparks to life. JJ bullshits himself by labelling his hammering heart as adrenaline from riding a dirt bike on Figure Eight. You push some of your hair behind your ear as you walk up to meet him halfway. You’re practically glowing under the sunset sky, skin shiny with body butter like you’ve been bathed in glitter. He shuts off the engine and sits back in the seat.

“You’re late."

JJ cringes playfully. “My bad?”

“Mhm.”

You step over to him and linger by his bike. He quirks a brow. “You hopping on?”

As your eyes survey the vehicle, JJ starts to grin, smug. “You ever been on a bike before?”

“Course,” you say, almost too quickly. “Just…Not one like this.”

JJ offers out a hand and you hesitate for a second before taking it. Grasping your hand in his, you climb onto the back of his bike. Your summer dress rides up as you do and you nervously tug it down. Then, your arms gently loop around his waist. Laughing, JJ shakes his head. He tightens your grip on him.

“Gotta hold on tight or you’ll fly off,” JJ remarks.

“Promise not to do anything stupid?” you say, voice thick with nerves.

JJ starts up the engine. “Princess, I can’t promise anything like that,” he grins. Looking over his shoulder, meeting your terrified eyes, he softens his smile. “But I promise you’re safe.”

Your own smile battles through the queasy nervousness. JJ revs the engine and turns his head back to the road, and then he sets off. Your arms immediately latch tighter like a vice. It makes him laugh, and you mutter a meek ‘shut up’ in reply. Having you close like this; he can smell your perfume. It’s expensive, encapsulating you like you’ve been doused in it. Several bangle style bracelets lining your wrists press into his skin through his t-shirt, only slightly uncomfortable, and when he turns a corner, they shift and jangle melodically together.

Zipping down the roads of Figure Eight, JJ drags out the journey the same way he did walking Ranger back to your house. Gradually, mansions turn to shacks and quaint homes, and well-kept children’s parks into overgrown yards surrounded with chain-link fence.

He pulls down a dirt track, heading nearer to the marshland, and eventually comes to a stop. You catch your breath as he turns off the engine.

“Feeling alright?” he checks, glancing over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you reply.

You look a little windswept. Instinctively, JJ reaches out a hand to brush some hair from your face. Embarrassed, you help, calming down your hair and fixing your appearance. Then you use JJ’s shoulders as an anchor, climbing off his bike.

“So…You brought me out to middle of nowhere…” you say, looking around.

JJ kicks on the stand and pulls the keys form the ignition. “Scared?”

“Should I be?”

JJ chuckles, shaking his head. “Come on. I got something planned.”

He takes your hand, smiling to himself as you intertwine your fingers with his, and guides the two of you through the shrubs towards the water side. The P.M.S. Pogue sits moored in the marsh. A loan, if he helps John B clean out the chicken hut next week.

“Now, I know this probably ain’t like all the fancy yachts you and your folks have,” JJ starts, walking up to the boat side. “But I promise it runs like a dream.”

As he looks back to you, JJ’s eyes shamelessly sweep along your figure. The dress you’re wearing is pastel green adorned with dainty flowers of white and ivy. It ends just past the point of tortuous on your legs. You’re pretty as a vine and sweet like a grape, decorated with expensive jewellery. Pearl earrings and a Tiffany necklace. On your wrist, though, JJ finds a series of handmade friendship bracelets amongst your bangles. They’re made with shells and beads and tiny pendants of silver. Several rings sit pretty on your fingers.

Looking back to the boat, JJ pulls the ladder free with a grunt. It creaks from want of use: himself and the Pogues usually just climb inside or jump on from the jetty. “Ladies first,” he says, offering out a hand.

You look between his hand and the ladder, and then something deterministic overcomes your face as you place your hands on lip of the boat. With a huff, you use whatever upper body strength you have to climb up. JJ stands, taken aback, and his eyes falls to your bare legs. Your toes are pointed, calve muscles tense and strong, and he can almost picture you in pointe ballet slippers. Amused, JJ lets you clamber up into the boat. Sighing, you correct your dress and jewellery before looking down at him.

“Well? You coming?”

JJ gives a small laugh before nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

He climbs with significantly less difficulty than yourself, proudly flexing his muscles as he does, shameless in his peacocking. When he gets to his feet, he finds you staring. “Like what you see?”

Your face flushes. You try and play it off though. “Just checking if you needed a hand.”

JJ grins, playing along, and you roll your eyes and walk to the wheel of the boat. He follows, pulling the keys from his short pockets, and turns on the engine which sputters to life. You hold onto the side of the steering hold as JJ guides the two of you into the marsh.

“You wanna steer?” he asks once you’re in wider waters.

You wordlessly step up and take the wheel. It’s easy, guiding the boat along. JJ hovers behind you, testing the waters by placing a hand on your waist. You don’t shrug him off. Soon enough, JJ’s placing a hand back on the wheel and guiding you to a certain spot.

“I found this place a while ago,” he says over your shoulder as he steers. He can feel your gaze on him. It’s terrifying, having you so close to him. God, he hopes it doesn’t show. “Best stargazing spot in the whole county.”

He slows the engine to a shuddering stop and steps away to toss the anchor down. It’s silent out in the water, asides from sea birds and marsh-side insects. Fish that break to the surface for a split-second disturb the water every now and then. Crickets and distant hooting owls. It’s dark now, too. Everything painted in a dusky blue. JJ grabs the old blanket that he stole from the twinkie and lies it down on the nose of the boat.

“Here,” he calls.

You make your way over, accepting his hand as you step up. The two of you settle to lay side by side. JJ tucks his arms behind his head as a makeshift pillow. You stare at the sky, eyes falling open at the endless expanse.

“Woah.”

“Pretty sick, right?”

“Yeah,” you say, laughing quietly. “It’s awesome.”

JJ grins. Nailed it.

For a while, the two of you just stargaze. He can hear your breathing, steady and calm, and once more your perfume invades his senses. A bottle of the stuff probably cost more than his bike. That thought prompts him to break the silence. Sitting up, he looks down at you.

“Alright, I gotta ask,” he says.

You sit up on your elbows, curiosity piqued. It takes everything in JJ to keep his eyes trained on your face and not your chest.

“Why’d you agree to go out with me?”

You smile, somewhat amused. It’s like you’ve been waiting for him to ask. “Well, that’s an easy question.”

“Oh, is it now?”

“Mhm,” you grin, teeth sinking into your lower lip. Christ, you’re angelic. “Ranger.”

“Your dog?”

“Yep.”

“What? You kooks manage to translate what they bark about or something? He give you some words of wisdom?”

You laugh, shaking your head. Sitting up fully, your bracelets chime together. “He liked you.”

“Yeah?” JJ says, brows tugging together in confusion.

“Ranger doesn’t trust easy. He’s a rescue and he practically chose me. The shelter people said he hadn’t let anyone near him since arriving, but with me, he came running over, like he knew me or something. He likes men even less. He won’t let my daddy within five yards of him without barking and cowering. He wouldn’t hurt you, but he gets scared and jumpy. But he seemed to like you. Seemed to trust you.”

“So, that made you agree to go out with me?” JJ checks.

Shrugging, you simply reply, “dogs are the best judge of character, after all.”

Humming in thought, JJ looks out to the marsh as he considers what you’ve said. It’s a little hilarious that a runaway dog is the reason that he’s got you here, alone, on the P.M.S. Pogue.

“My turn,” you say, seemingly initiating a game of twenty-one questions. JJ looks back to you. “Why’d you ask me out?”

“Pretty obvious. You’re fucking gorgeous,” JJ replies.

Whilst your smile turns to mush, you roll your eyes and act as if you’re unaffected by his words. “Seriously, though. I didn’t think I was your type.”

“Smoking hot girls? Nah, you’re pretty much my type to a T,” JJ goes on, charming smile in full view.

“What about Kiara?”

JJ gives a bemused smile. “What about Kie?”

“I know she hangs out with you guys. We’re pretty different people, me and her.”

It’s obvious that you’re far from low maintenance. You're proud of being a kook. You don’t shy away from it: happy to show off your money and beauty. JJ doesn’t get the sense that you’re haughty but it seems rather clear that you live your life to a certain standard.

JJ shrugs. “Guess that’s why I’m not dating her.”

“I know your reputation, you know. About all the girls you hook-up with and stuff.”

“Oh. You jealous or something?”

“No,” you say. Voice turning softer, you continue. “But I feel like I should to tell you that I’m not the kind of girl who has a lot of hook-ups. Or the kind who puts out on the first date.” When JJ doesn’t say anything, you feel the need to add, “just, before you get your hopes up.”

Pursing his lips, JJ nods slowly. He had a feeling that was going to be the case. You weren’t exactly known in the community for being particularly flirtatious. Hell, he wasn’t sure he’d ever known any guy to date you. From the way you spoke, careful with your words, and the way you acted, you were almost made of solid gold: pure through and through. So, having you take sex off the table for the foreseeable future didn’t exactly blind-side JJ. That to say, if you had offered it up, he would have jumped at the opportunity. God, he’s half sure he’d die if he ever saw you naked.

He could be a gentleman, though. He could. Something about you had JJ entranced outside of just the physical. So, if a hook-up wasn’t in the cards, maybe getting to know you might be all the better.

He’ll just have to learn to keep his eyes and his dick to himself.

Sighing, JJ lowers himself to lay down again. This time, he only tucks one arm behind his head. The other, he outstretches into your expanse of the blanket.

“Alright, princess. I think I can live with that,” he says.

Seemingly content with his reply, you lay back down, resting your head in the nook of his arm.

“It’s your turn,” you quietly say after a moment’s quiet.

“To do what?”

“Ask a question.”

JJ filters through the many in his mind, tucking the inappropriate ones away for a later date, and finally settles. “Alright. Was Ranger the only reason you agreed to go on a date with me?”

You let out a small tuneful hum of contemplation. “No. I wanted to see what you were like.”

“Oh?”

“I mean, I’ve seen you around the island and heard the stories. I suppose I wanted to know for myself,” you say. “Plus, I always do what I’m supposed to do. I guess I wanted to do the opposite, for a change.”

“Rebelling against your dear old daddy with the derelict from the Cut?” JJ jokingly asks.

“Hmm. Something like that,” you say, playing along. You turn your head to the side and meet JJ's eyes. “You’re just a pawn in my game, Maybank.”

JJ’s too sucker-punched from that to come up with something witty in reply. There’s a foreign thump in his chest and a selcouth feeling in the back of his throat as you look at him. JJ swallows it away, returning his attention to the star-lit sky.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ revels in the miracle that he landed a second date with you as he fixes his hair in John B’s bathroom mirror. His best friend sits on the closed toilet lid, watching him.

“I can’t believe you’re seeing her again,” John B says for the millionth time.

JJ grins at his reflection. “I know.”

“I mean, what do you guys even talk about?” JB continues, face contorted in confusion.

JJ shrugs. “I don’t know. We just spent the other night talking about all sorts, really.”

“And you’re sure she isn’t being paid to go out with you?”

“Maybe the first time, but not this time, no,” JJ replies. He stops messing with his hair. Licks over his teeth, checking for trapped food, and dusts of his t-shirt. Looking to his friend, JJ asks, “how do I look?”

John B barely takes his appearance in before saying, “like she’s out of your league.”

“Come on, man,” JJ groans, shoving his best friend’s shoulder. He leaves the bathroom, John B hot on his tail. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Yeah. That I’m macking on a kook and you ain’t,” JJ tells him. Opening the fridge, he tosses a beer to John B before taking one for himself. “I know you’ve had a thing for Sarah Cameron since we were kids.”

“No,” John B quickly says, shaking his head. “No, no, I do not have ‘a thing’ for Sarah Cameron.”

“JB, you’re a terrible liar,” JJ sighs. He takes a sip of his drink. Liquid confidence. Eyes glancing up to the clock hung on the chateau’s kitchen wall, he reckons he has about five minutes before he should leave for your house.

“So, seriously: what is this? Why this new flavour of the month?” John B grills.

JJ shrugs. “I dunno man. She’s just…She’s cute. And hot. And rich, and easy to talk to, and kinda funny, and, oh did I mention, rich as fuck. I don’t see any downsides, really.”

“Mhm, well, I do,” John B gladly counters. “She’s a kook.”

“Yeah, but she’s not like a kook kook. Kinda like how Kiara’s a kook,” JJ argues.

John B looks bewildered. “She is nothing like Kiara.”

“Alright, not in personality or looks or actual money, but in general kook-ness.”

“All I’m saying is that if you think this thing has a long shelf-life, you’re way more crazy than I thought you were,” John B says.

JJ doesn’t reply. Downing the rest of his can, he tosses it at the trash can (dismally misses) and heads for the front door. As he goes, he taps John B on the shoulder in a brotherly fashion.

“Nice to know you’re rooting for me, man,” he jovially says in farewell.

Then, he’s heading down the porch steps, climbing onto his bike, and setting sights for your house for the fourth time in his life.

Your house stands like a castle in the streets. JJ practically sees the driveway as a crocodile infested moat. He waits on the street at the foot of the driveway for you, arriving in time to see you make your way down the drive. You’re dressed in Levi shorts and a Tommy Hilfiger shirt, designer sandals on your decorated feet with anklets and toe rings. JJ sits back on his seat, engine running, and finds himself grinning as you smile at him. When did that start to happen?

“Not late this time, huh?” you playfully say.

“Learnt my lesson.”

You don’t hesitate as you climb on the back of his bike. You wrap your arms around his stomach, fingers splaying out across his chest over his t-shirt. JJ revs the engine.

“Ready?”

“Hell yeah.”

Grinning, JJ sets off down the street.

Once again, you’d left the plans in JJ’s hands. It was a little surreal to him, how trusting you were of him. Might be a place of concern, even. But, hey, JJ will take the win.

It’s still light when you get to the cliffside. From here, the view is incredible. An orange-pink sky that looks like it might taste of tangerine and peach hangs above a rolling sea. The view stretches on for miles, with the mainland off along the horizon.

JJ admires you as you stand in breeze, looking out at the view. You turn to face him.

“Why does every place I let you take me get more and more concerning every time?”

“We’re going cliff jumping,” is JJ’s reply.  

Your eyebrows nearly shoot off your head. “That’s called suicide, JJ.”

“Nah, not here,” he says, shaking his head. He grabs your hand and tries to coax you nearer to the edge so you can see the drop. “Water’s plenty deep and cliff’s plenty high. It’s fun.”

You catch on that he’s not joking. Laughing nervously, you shake your head and take several large steps back to safety. “No, no, no.”

“Come on! It’s fun!” JJ swears.

Your smile begins to fade and your head shakes faster. “No way. I don’t do…That. And I’ll ruin my hair. And what about my jewellery?”

“You can take off your jewellery,” JJ argues, walking towards you, “and your hair’ll look good either way.”

“Easy for you to say,” you snort, eyeing him up as your arms cross over your chest. “You’re a guy.”

“First of all: rude.”

JJ tugs his shirt over his head, tossing it to the ground. Your eyes instinctively glance down at his chest. JJ doesn’t bother hiding his smirk.

“Second of all: live a little, princess.”

You scoff. “I live plenty, thank you.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Really. Have you ever been to Paris? Seen the Eiffel tower? Been in the catacombs? Or gone to Italy and tasted wine fresh from a vineyard?”

JJ raises a brow, sarcastic as he says, “yeah, every Tuesday. Now come on.”

He grabs for your wrist, tugging you towards him. You don’t push him away as he lifts his fingers to the clasp of your necklace, only momentarily struggling to get it loose. He gently places it on top of his t-shirt, and soon your many rings follow. You lean down and take off your toe rings and anklets, and then your earrings. The handmade bracelets stay, though. Standing upright, you take a shaky breath.

“Look, you don’t have to,” JJ quietly says. He can see the fear clear as day on your face. But you shake your head, newly determined by his offer of an out. Clearly you don’t like having your bluff called.

JJ’s eyes nearly fall out of his head as you pull your shirt off. He doesn’t even have time to recover before your wriggling out of your shorts, stepping out of them and carelessly tossing them onto the pile of clothes and accessories like you got them from a bargain bin at a thrift store. Stepping out of your sandals, standing proud in matching Calvin Klein underwear, you grab his hand and interlock your fingers, guiding the two of you to the cliffside. As you pull him into motion, JJ comes out of his filthy thoughts, mouth dry.

You come to a sudden stop a safe three feet away from the edge. JJ’s done this too many times to count but the adrenaline that floods the system before the first jump shocks him every time like a cold plunge. You gnaw on your lower lip in trepidation. JJ squeezes your fingers, mutters your name, and captures your attention.

“You trust me?”

Your beautiful eyes dance across his face. JJ almost sees you go calm, like a baby soothed by its favourite nursery rhyme. It seems that his question, as simple as it is, made something click in your mind.

“Yeah,” you breathe, as if realising it in the moment. “I do.”

With that, JJ gives one last squeeze to your hand and a fleeting smile, and then he starts running towards the cliffside. You run too, only a step behind, and the two of you hurl yourselves off the edge at the same time. Your scream echoes in the wind as air rushes past JJ’s ears. He whoops on his way down. The two of you pummel down towards the water, your hand never leaving his until you reach the surface. His eyes press shut and he prepares for impact as he crashes into the depths. The water is cold but not icy – it cools his skin comfortably. Everything goes quiet in the water, mellowed out and muted. JJ pushes to the surface and takes a breath of air, shoving wet hair off his face. As he looks around, treading water in the currents, he feels the adrenaline rise once more when he can’t find you.

JJ starts calling out your name, looking left and right and left again. Just as he’s about to dive under, you break. He gasps out in relief.

The minute your eyes open, they land on him. Then, the biggest smile he’s ever seen comes over your face. It etches itself on his brain with permanent marker. JJ could be senile and decrepit and still remember that look on your face.

“That was amazing!” you scream, throwing your hands up, spraying water everywhere. “Oh my God! We have to do that again!”

JJ laughs, soaking in your joy.

It’s weird seeing you, wet and without all your dressings. It’s like seeing a priceless painting outside of its frame: it makes it somehow even more beautiful. The setting sun warms your wet skin as you throw your head back, eyes shut, grinning like a mad man. JJ wants to seal this moment in resin and place it on his mantle as a keepsake.

You make JJ climb up that cliff and jump into the ocean about five times over, until the sun has almost fully set and you can’t risk the dark. As it slowly inches down and down towards the horizon, you and JJ sit side by side on the grass. Your hand is so close to his, fingers reaching out like growing ivy, teasing at making contact. The moment the jumping was done, you’d returned all your jewellery to your body. It sparkles with the damp. As his eyes drift down from your profile to your figure, he picks up on those handmade bracelets again.

“What’s with the friendship bracelets?” JJ asks.

You look down at them then up at JJ. “I make them.”

“Why?”

Laughing, you shrug. “I don’t know. Why does anyone do anything?”

“Do you sell them?”

“No,” you say, messing with one. “I just enjoy doing it. I make them for my friends.”

“That’s sweet,” JJ hums, looking back out to the view.

“What about your shark tooth necklace? Someone make that for you?” you ask.

JJ glances down at it. “My ma. She used to collect shark teeth that washed up on the beach.”

“Well, she’s pretty talented,” you smile. “Maybe she can make one for me, one day.”

JJ swallows thickly, jaw ticking tight. “She, uh, ain't around anymore.”

“Oh…I'm sorry.”

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.”

The awkward quiet that comes passes like a summer breeze. Sighing contentedly, the two of you watch as the world gets darker and darker, and the sun gets lower and lower.

“So, how are you finding it?”

“Finding what?” you ask.

JJ gestures to himself, to everything around him.  “This. Pogue-life. Rebelling against your dad. Not doing as you’re told.”

You laugh, shaking your head. JJ watches as you pull your knees up to your chest, sitting dainty as a robin balanced on a branch. Tucking some hair behind your ears, you look out to the horizon as if caught in a daydream. A solemn look threatens to cross your face as you say, “it’s making me realise just how much I’ve been missing out on.”

And that…JJ wasn’t expecting that. He was expecting one of your usual playful jabs, soaked in sarcasm. Not that. It makes you more human and less Kook. More real. More attainable, even, for JJ. It’s like with every minute he spends in your orbit, he gets closer and closer to you. But everyone knows the story of Icarus, and what happens when you fly too close to the sun.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*

By the fourth date, JJ’s practically foaming at the mouth, feral from restraint.

He still hadn’t kissed you. Hadn’t had the opportunity. You’d kept teasing him with it, temporarily placing it on the table before taking it away. He knew he had to go about this carefully. One wrong move and he could screw up all his hard work and send you off running.

What surprised JJ more than most was the fact that feeling your body under him was one of the lowest ranking motivators to spend time with you. Don’t get it twisted – it was still a pretty bloody strong motivator – but JJ wanted to know you and be known by you. You were interesting and captivating, and caring and kind. You were funny and had this sweet sense of humour that glimmered through from time to time, like a kaleidoscope hanging from a window-frame. With every minute in your company, his prejudice of Kooks was dismantled piece by piece. One run in with Rafe or Topper and it would probably be rekindled ten-fold, but for now, JJ learnt to see past it. You were a little out of touch but you didn’t act like you were better than him. Then again, he hadn’t taken you to his house or the Chateau yet. He kept the dates on common ground, where he never felt out of his depths or wallowing within them.

You hit like a crisp, ice-cold beer on the hottest day of summer. More intoxicating than any blunt he’s ever smoked, or any line he’s ever snorted. Light like a feather in how you move, soft like rain and driven like fresh laid snow. You had hijacked nearly all of JJ’s thoughts, in one way or another, and it fucking terrified him.

“So, I went for white and pastel blue. I think they’re cute. What do you think?”

You hold your fingers out for JJ to inspect your nails. JJ couldn’t care less about nails – half the time, his are dirtied with mud and oil – but you care an awful lot, so he can pretend. To be honest, he had only been half-listening to your story. His eyes had been fixated on your lips, daydreaming about how they’d feed against his own, how soft they might be as he nips at them with his teeth, how wet they might be if he were to slip his dick between them…

“JJ?”

He blinks out of his gutter-brain and takes in your nails.

“They’re pretty. I like the, uh, sheen on them,” he says.

You practically become alight with the comment. It feels like another brownie point that he can tally. Bringing them to your gaze, you nod fervently. “Right? I’ve never gotten metallic powder on them but I think I like it.”

With that, you sigh and lay back on your towel. The two of you are at the beach and have been since two in the afternoon. It’s now nearly seven in the evening. JJ thinks you’re at your prettiest in the golden hour. It’s like God himself is shining a spotlight on you, highlighting every perfection of your features. The way your designer jewellery twinkles in the rays, the sun-kissed sheen of your cheeks, the ethereal-like glow of your eyes…It’s taking everything not to look at your body, proudly displayed in a bikini. It’s blue. It seems you like blue an awful lot.

JJ distracts himself from your figure and his tightening swim shorts by petting Ranger. He’d tagged along for the day and is currently napping in the sun. You’d brought plenty of water and dog snacks to keep him going. JJ had supplied the seltzers and bag of chips for the two of you. He’d noted how you’d been making one can last for about two hours. He wondered if you’d been tipsy before, or drunk even.

When he looks back to you, eyes sweeping up your sand-scattered stomach, he finds you threading the seashells you’d been collecting throughout the day on string. You’d brought a little kit with you in your bag and had spent the last three hours making jewellery on and off whilst talking to JJ. You lay in a sea of designer accessories – Ray Ban sunglasses, Dior lip-gloss, Clinique sunscreen – as you craft.

“That’s coming together nice,” he comments.

You glance up to meet his eyes, smiling. “It’s for you.”

“Me?”

“Mhm. Need to check if it fits, actually,” you mumble, shifting onto your knees.

JJ willingly holds out a wrist for you as you coil it around. It looks hilariously dainty on his built form. Seashells and blue and white and silver beads. Then he notices the small letters you’d interwoven into the design. JJ. His heart makes that awful, jarring tug again. JJ can’t decide he likes this effect you have on him.

“Perfect,” you say.

You tie it off and fasten it around his wrist. He shakes his arm out a little to check its fit. You’re right: it’s perfect.

The moment your eyes glance up from his arm, meeting his, JJ forgets all his manners. He takes your face in one hand and presses his lips to yours. You let out a gasp as he does, hands coming up to press at his shoulders, pushing him off.

“What are you doing?” you gasp, fingers flying up to your lips.  

His heart is loud in his ears, hammering like he’s thirteen and having his first kiss all over again. In the deafening beat of it, he dumbly replies, “kissing you?”

“Well, you can’t just kiss me,” you say, almost offended. “You have to ask first.”

“Alright…Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes are like raging storms as you stare at him. Anyone would have thought from your expression that he just asked to take you roughly in the streets. Trying to calm yourself with a drawn-out breath, you cock your head.

“Why should you?”

JJ frowns. “What?”

“Why should I let you kiss me?”

Now usually, JJ would be pissed. Annoyed and impatient, and would get up and leave and never look back. But for you, he can’t find it in him. No, it’s all offset by that same damn curiosity that got him here in the first place. You’re like an enigma. A blackhole. He wants desperately to know more, to understand, but is terrified of being sucked in completely. Terrified of what it might all mean.

So, JJ deliberates your question. “Cause you like me?”

“I do?” you ask, quirking your brows.

You must. You wouldn’t have stuck around for this long if you didn’t. Wouldn’t have handmade a bracelet. So, he nods, feeling his confidence grow like the swell of a wave.

“Yeah, you do. I think you like what I bring out of you.”

“Making a lot of assumptions here, Maybank,” you practically warn. But the anger is gone. Gives him hope that he’s on the right track. JJ tries and fails to bite back his smile.

“Maybe,” he says. “But it’s only cause I feel the same way.”

When you don’t speak, he takes it as a cue to continue. As he goes on, his heart shudders with the anxiety that vulnerability brings.

“I like the way I am around you. I like how you make me feel. I like talking to you, and I like hearing you talk. You just have this way of speaking that’s…It just makes everything feel like it’s good. Everything’ll be good.”

Something in what he’s said seems to take you aback. You blink a few times, lips parting as you sit, looking at him all the while. He hopes that if your thoughts are still set on the idea that he’s in this for nothing more than a lay, he’s just proved that wrong. He supposes with his reputation on the island amongst the youngsters, he can’t be all that surprised if that was what you had thought. But surely, after spending so many hours in your company, doing nothing asides from talking and innocently touching, you had seen past that. Didn’t you say that you wanted to get to know him, to see him for yourself?

“Do you mean that?” you quietly ask. It’s almost sad, the tone of your voice and the look on your face, like nobody’s ever said something like that to you before. JJ swallows the sick feeling that it brings.

He nods. “Yeah. I do.”

Slowly, a smile blossoms on your face like the first budding flower of spring. With a small, slight nod, you tell him, barely louder than a whisper, “you can kiss me now.”

JJ does so gladly. But he’s careful with it this time, makes it count. He sweeps one hand from your shoulder, up against your collarbones, until it cups your jaw gently. Tilting your head just-so, he leans forward and pauses just a breadth before your lips. And then, he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet and different to the usual blind-haze rush that JJ finds himself in when making out. The pacing to it makes it almost sensual. The feeling the kiss brings is alien to JJ; he can’t quite place a name to it.

One of your hands finds home on his jaw, exploring his skin, fingers looping into the hair on the back of his neck. When he coaxes your mouth open with his tongue, you sigh gently against his lips.

As the two of you kiss on the beach, that new-found sensation in JJ’s chest intensifies, and then it dawns upon him - this new feeling that your kiss brings. Different from lust and libido.

His eyes fly open. Stomach plummets through the sand.

JJ Maybank is falling in love with you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the summer stretched on, JJ realised he’d spent most of June in your company, growing closer and closer. It felt natural now to have your hand intertwined with his. JJ can hardly remember a time when wasn’t talking to you, or talking about you, or thinking of you, or organising his days around meeting you. He knew what it meant, what all of it meant, and this impending feeling of something grew with every word passed and every kiss shared. It almost felt like he was watching a sand-timer. Seeing each grain slip by, counting down until the inevitable end, just like most things in his life did.

He'd introduced you to the Pogues upon everyone’s insistence, including your own. John B was still in disbelief that JJ had managed to keep you around for as long as he had. Pope, on the other hand, was practically suspicious of it. It was as if he needed the cold, hard evidence for proof that JJ wasn’t spinning yarns. Kiara had of course jumped at the opportunity to gloat about the ‘good karma’ she’d bestowed upon JJ, by encouraging him to return Ranger to you. When she’d met you, she’d be apprehensive. Distrusting of your Kook status, having known you more than the others from attending Kook Academy with you. But JJ was sure she’d warm up, bit by bit. It helped that you wanted to try new things. You wanted to try the whole Pogue lifestyle. You let JJ take you surfing and begged to try his bike out. You let John B teach you to fish and wrestled Pope on nights spent around the campfire. You’d share seltzers with Kiara and sang along whenever she played the uke. And, oh, of course you could sing. You’d had lessons, you see, as you had with practically every other extra circular on earth. Piano, violin, ballet, tap…Shit, it was like you were collecting Pokémon or something.  

In fact, it scared JJ how easy it was to pick up on the little details about you. It was like collecting stones on the beach: before you know it, your pockets are weighing you down, filled with tiny little pebbles. You were a fruity girl: cocktails and sangria and wine and seltzers – never beer. You weren’t a heavy drinker. Didn’t partake in shots apart from Cherry Bombs. You preferred sweet over salty; always took creamer and syrup in your coffee, in that order; rom coms from the nineties and noughties were your kryptonite, and you loathed fast and furious; skirts before shorts; Tiffany before Pandora; lip gloss over lip stick. God, the tingly sensation from plumping lip gloss was all too familiar to JJ now, from having it smear off your mouth to his.

After the kiss on the beach, mouths and hands had only continued to wander. It’s like JJ’s admission that this was more than just trying to score you for sex was the passcode to open you up. You weren’t prudish. In fact, when JJ met you, he was half certain that maybe you were a virgin. But no…now he found that very hard to believe.

Saying all that, it still felt bizarre to be seen out in public with you. It wasn’t a secret, had never been really, but JJ remained surprised at how willing you were to take his hand in public. To be seen with him by everyone in the County. It was like you wanted to show him off, parade him around like he was something special, like one of your many Prada purses. It almost made JJ want to question if you had ulterior motives.

“You wanna just split a portion of fries?” JJ asks, looking at The Wreck’s menu. You were there for lunch.

You hum in thought. “Maybe. I want mac and cheese though.”

“We can get that, too. I mean, you’re paying, right?”

You prod him under the table with your foot. He gives a playful laugh, grinning childishly. He’d started calling you his sugar mommy since you had to pay for gas when his card got declined. It softened the sting of embarrassment that came with being broke, especially when compared to you. I mean, even now, he sits in a thrifted t-shirt, the decal on the chest nearly faded with how much it had been worn and washed, whilst you’re in your new threads. Dior threads, for that matter.

“Hiya. You guys ready to order?” the waitress asks.

JJ glances up from the menu and shit. Shit shit shit. The minute his eyes meet hers, recognition dawns upon her. It’s weird seeing this girl – Lily, he thinks her name is – from this angle. Last time they’d seen each other, she’d been laying underneath him…

You’re thankfully blissfully unaware, eyes trained on the menu.

“JJ. Long time no see.”

With that, your head darts up. Great.

“Hey…Lily. How are you?”

At least luck is partly on his side: he got her name right. She places a hand on his waist. “Fine, thanks. Been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

“I’ve been busy,” JJ says.

“I bet. Remember a time when you were busy with other things…”

Her tone speaks volumes, as do her eyes as she surveys his body, smiling flirtatiously.

Suddenly, your hand is extending across the table, towards Lily. JJ looks to you to find a sickly, sweet smile on your face.

“I don’t think we’ve met before,” you say, voice honied. She shakes your hand as you introduce yourself. “You know JJ?”

“We have a…history, of sorts,” Lily replies.

“Oh. Well, any friend of JJ’s is a friend of mine.”

Looking to JJ, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he’s never seen before. It’s terrifying and sexy as hell. Raising a hand, your fingers leisurely splay across the expanse of JJ’s shoulder, manicured nails digging-in only so. Not enough to cause damage but enough to make a point. Enough to mark your territory.

“Babe? Can you order for me?”

“Uh, course,” JJ says, clearing his throat.

Looking down at the menu, eyes not even fixating on any of the words, JJ reals of an order. Lily scribbles it down, takes the menus, and leaves without another word. The minute she’s out of sight, you drop the act, hand unlatching from his body. JJ raises his brows, holding back his laugh as he turns to you.

"What a bitch," you mutter. You wash away your words with a sip of your water.

“Didn’t take you as the jealous type.”

“Yeah, well, some girls need to learn when to shut their traps,” you lowly return. Sighing, you close your eyes and shake your head. “Sorry. That wasn’t very girls-girl of me.”

“Mm. If only your daddy could hear you now,” JJ adds, sighing disapprovingly.

You shoot him an unimpressed glare. JJ brings his glass to his lips, having a sip of his water.

“You sleep with her?”

JJ chokes and coughs. “Jesus. Straight shooter."

“Better not be talking about yourself there, Maybank.”

JJ laughs, putting his cup down. Looking to you, he shrugs. “Yeah. Like…three months ago, alright? It was before we met.”

“Mhm. You sleep with anyone since we met?” you wonder.

JJ can’t place your tone but something tells him that this question will make or break him. Thankfully, there isn’t even a need to lie. “No.”

“You swear?”

“Scout’s honour,” he says, lifting three fingers whilst simultaneously marking his heart with a cross.  “Shit, I don’t want you to claw my eyes out. Or any other girls, for that matter.”

You shove his shoulder gently, smile creeping back to your lips. “Shut up. Like I’d ever. The Bible frowns upon it.”

“What about ‘an eye for an eye’?”

“Ooh. Somebody went to Sunday School,” you tease.

“Yeah, just so I could gawk at you,” he smoothly returns, winking for good measure. With that, JJ knows he’s back in your good books.

When Lily brings the food over, she doesn’t try to strike up any conversation. Dare JJ say, she looks terrified to be within a foot of the table. JJ knew you had an edge but this is different. This possessiveness, this proprietorial energy that came over you…Fuck, he knows what’s the newest addition to his wank-bank.

The two of you eat, talking about what you should do tomorrow (because, of course, he’ll spend tomorrow with you) and then JJ desperately tries to give constructive feedback to your latest Pinterest board of hairstyle inspiration. He gets up to pay. It’ll probably cost half his wage but it’s worth it. I mean, this meal is pretty dismal compared to the feasts you’re used to, but you never complain. Saying that, it doesn’t go unnoticed that when it’s on your dime, you’re far more willing to get a lemonade and a dessert. When it’s JJ paying, you say you’re happy with tap water and splitting a side. It’s mildly mortifying.

Lily is stood at the counter. “Ready to pay?”

“Tell me the damage,” is JJ’s reply.

“Twenty dollars thirty,” she says, punching buttons on the register.

JJ’s stomach twists. Fuck, he hopes his card doesn’t decline. She holds out the machine for him and he swipes his card.

“How long has that been going on then?” Lily asks.

JJ follows her gaze to you. You’re sat at the table, reapplying Dior lip gloss with an Armani compact mirror. He’s half convinced that if anything bought from Target touched your skin you might implode.

“Bout a month,” he says.

“Hm. Never took her as one to venture out of Figure Eight.”

“Never took you as one to judge random people,” JJ counters, anger ticking with her unneeded commentary.

“I’m just saying. She’s a Kook, JJ.”

“Did it go through?” he asks, cutting the conversation short.

Lily sighs, looking down at the card machine. Nodding, she goes to get his receipt. But before she hands it over, she feels the need to add, “just…maybe ask yourself what she’s getting out of this? Girls like that…They’re sneaky. Just, watch your back.”

JJ takes the receipt hastily and walks off before he can’t bite his tongue any longer. As much as it pisses him off to hear someone who doesn’t even know you talk like that, there was a sincerity to Lily’s voice that speaks to JJ’s insecurities. Massages them. It certainly doesn’t help that the minute JJ arrives back at the table, you ask, “did you have enough?”

JJ hates how the rest of the day, that one interaction – that one moment – at the Wreck keeps him disconnected from you. Anytime you ask what’s wrong, it’s the same excuse: ‘I’m just tired, s’all.’ But whenever there’s a second for thought, Lily’s voice echoes around his head.

Ask yourself what she’s getting out of this.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

“How in the hell do you not get lost in this place?” JJ asks you as you wander through your house.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I grew up here.”

It’s laughable, the difference of JJ’s house to yours. He’s never taken you to his home; kept your dates and hangouts to the Chateau or the Twinkie, or anywhere but his house. He’s half-certain that you might just dip if you saw the state that he lives in. Plus, he can’t risk his dad showing up and meeting you. He’d hate you – the same way he hated most people – and again, you’d be gone in a second. In fact, as more time passes, JJ realises more and more that he’s got an eye on the door, waiting for you to walk through it without a second glance.

“You want some tea?” you ask. JJ shrugs his yes. He’s never tried it before but no time like the present, right?

You guide the two of you to the kitchen. As you pass by room after room, JJ nervously glances around. “So, uh…Your dad or mom home, or?”

“Relax, Maybank,” you grin. “They’re on a cruise. They don’t get back until Tuesday.”

“Oh, cool, cool. I mean, I ain't have been bothered if they were home.”

You bark out a laugh. Opening a kitchen cupboard, you talk as you retrieve two mugs. “Oh really? So you haven’t been avoiding my house like the plague because of my parents?”

JJ rolls his eyes. Busted. You go to heat up the water, grabbing two fruit tea bags and depositing them in each mug. JJ looks around the kitchen, searching for a certain dog. As if you can hear his thoughts, you say, “Ranger’s in the sunroom. If you call him, he’ll probably come.”

So, JJ does just that. Sure enough, Ranger trudges through the house and into the kitchen, tail wagging. He looks as if he’s just woken up from a nap. JJ grins, watching as his energy returns the moment he sets eyes on yourself and JJ, and the blonde-haired boy falls to his knees, arms outstretched. God, he missed this old fart of a dog.

“Why don’t you bring him along to the Chateau more?”

“Where would he ride? We always take your bike,” you laugh.

“Probably for the best, anyway. John B would definitely try and steal him,” JJ mumbles.

“Oh, and you wouldn’t?”

Insecurity picks at JJ like a scab. “What does that mean?”

You quirk a brow, unaware of the almost offence caused. “JJ, you would pick that dog over me in a heartbeat, if it came down to it.”

Of course. Of course you were talking about the dog, and not making some dig about his family reputation, or his sticky fingers. Shit, it’s like ever since that day at the Wreck, his insecurities had tripled in size and volume. Every time you looked at him, JJ wasn’t sure if you were passing judgement and he hated himself for it: for becoming so suspicious of you, when you’d done nothing to warrant it. But he couldn’t help it. It was like a reflex.

Once the tea is made and Ranger’s retired back in another sunny patch to sleep, the two of you head upstairs to your bedroom. JJ began to recount the story of the Grady White discovery and the Motel Room after the last hurricane’s end. He’s half certain that you don’t fully believe him.

“So, what did you find in the motel room?” you ask, pushing open your bedroom door.

“It was fucking crazy! Like a shit ton of money and this weird map. Oh, yeah, and…” JJ ditches his backpack by the foot of your bed and unzips it. Proud as a Superbowl jock, he presents the gun he stole. “This.”

Your mouth drops open. You place the two mugs of tea on your desk (on coasters, because of course) and reach out for it. JJ frowns and holds it out of your reach.

“Let me hold it.”

This reaction, out of all the reactions, was the one he expected the least. “No way.”

“Come on!”

“Nu-uh. You’ll shoot my dick off."

Rolling your eyes, you quip, “wouldn’t that be a gift for mankind? Come on!”

Sighing, he relents. Double checks the safety is on before passing the gun to you. You hold it like it’s a priceless artefact or a Louboutin heel (both as equal in value to yourself).

“It’s heavier than I thought,” you mumble, inspecting it.

Is it bad that JJ thinks you look unbelievably hot holding a gun right now? Probably. He can address that later in life when he eventually winds up in therapy.

“Yeah, these things are the shit,” JJ boasts, taking it back. He pretends to aim with it, gun pointed directly at one of your bears. At your scolding he puts it away again. “Anyway, now we got this dumb ass compass. JB thinks it’s got a clue in it, but I’m not so sure.”

JJ accepts the tea that you offer him as the two of you take perch on your bed, you at the foot and him at the head. You sit cross legged, nodding along to his tale, interested. JJ’s not entirely sure why he’s telling you this, especially when he was so adamant that the Pogues keep it on the down low, but something in him tells him that it’s okay for you to know. Useful, even, though he has no idea how. When he wraps up the story, he takes in your room. It’s just as he pictured it to be. Immaculately clean, psychopath level organised, decorated with brand after brand, China-white and pastel blue detailing every turn of the head. Looking back to you, he sniggers.

“You look like a witch right now.”

You take in the way you’re sitting and laugh, making a point to cradle your mug of tea between two hands. God, you’re adorable. The years of ballet have paid off: your back is straight as an arrow. The two of you sit in comfortable silence as you sip your tea. Outside, you can hear the sounds of nature pass by. There’s something understated and special about spending time with someone without feeling the need to fill the gaps. Just…existing. As JJ finishes his tea, you nod to his empty mug.

“Want me to read your tea leaves?” you ask.

JJ eyes you up, entertained. “No way you know how to do that.”

“Course I do. Here.”

You put your mug down on the windowsill and hold out a hand out for his. He passes you the empty mug and leans back against the cushioned headboard. Hell, if he had a bed like this, he’d never leave. You hum in deep contemplative thought as you look into the mug. Eyebrows knitting together, lips pursing, you study the scraps of tea leaves intently. JJ tries to stifle his laughs. It’s clearly a ploy. He can see right through the act.

“Ah, well…These are very good leaves,” you suddenly announce.

JJ plays along. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Yeah, yeah, I see a great fortune in your future,” you tell him. A glance up to his face, stupid grin on your lips, and then back to the mug. “Mhm. Yep, I see a…A boat.”

“Oh yeah? A Grady White by any chance?” JJ jests.

“Oh, no. This thing…It’s like the titanic. Big ship.”

“You have a way with words, princess.”

“And! A rainforest! And stones!”

“Alright, this tea’s gone to your head,” JJ laughs, reaching over for his mug.

You giggle as he takes it back, ditching it half-arsed on the bedside table so he can drag you to him by your forearms. Half tumbling forward, your hands ungainly catch yourself on his sturdy frame. You’re still laughing as he kisses you. JJ smiles against your mouth.

“I’m telling you,” you manage out through kisses and giggles. “You’re gonna be very fortunate in your future.”

“Mm, I’m fortunate now,” JJ replies, chasing your lips.

He uses a hand to hoist you further into his lap. You finally find purchase, a hand sliding along his neck, tantalisingly slow and smooth. As JJ’s lips creep along your jaw and inch down your neck, you lean your head, giving him more and more canvas to work with.

“I’m very lucky, you know,” you say, sounding short of breath.

JJ just hums. He continues his tapestry of love bites and kisses as you ramble on. He loves how soft it is with you; how there’s time for pause, for thought, for laughter. It’s the polar opposite to what he knows. Frenzied hands and sex in a timeframe. The patience of sex with you isn’t without heat, though. It isn’t like a married couple who can hardly remember what they liked about one another, chasing a high before drifting off to sleep. No, it’s like how people take time to pray. Like how musicians fawn over their music for hours, bit by bit, until perfection. So, JJ revels in your half-meaningful speech, slurred like you’re drunk despite being stone-cold sober, as he gently eases your cardigan off your shoulders.

“Every dance team I’ve been on, we’ve won…”

As JJ’s lips descend to your chest, you sigh. Fingers tightening just-so in his hair, spurring him on. One of his hands stays placed on your hip, a thumb rubbing circles on your exposed waist.

“Probably just ‘cause you’re a good dancer,” JJ mumbles against your skin.

“Not just that, though,” you muse. “I’m a good luck charm, I’m telling you. Nothing bad ever happens to the people around me. I’m lucky.”

Whatever you say, JJ thinks as he unhooks your bra. You help guide it off, sitting back against JJ’s thighs and lifting a perfectly manicured hand to his jaw. Your skin is soft like Mother of Pearl. Not a single cut or nick. Guiding his face up until his gaze meets yours, you lean down and press your lips to his. There’s no more laughter and no more silly stories. There’s no room in JJ’s brain to conjure anything other than thoughts of you. Your hair and your skin and your perfume and your nails and you. God, he wants to consume you. Breathe you in like vapour, soak you up like sunlight, feel you like the weather, all over him.

Nobody’s prettier than you.

Nobody prettier from this view, nestled between your thighs, almost suffocating as he swallows you up. More and more – insatiable. The distinct taste of you sits heavy on his tongue. It spurs him on like cocaine, energy unrelenting as he goes down on you. The sounds you make, the way you grab at him, grasp at the sheets, writhe and wriggle like it’s too much, like you can’t take it. But you can. Have before. Will again.

Your body bends to JJ’s will like water. You’re so trusting of him; have been ever since you met him. Let him take you how he wants, faithful in the pleasure he’ll give you. Usually JJ didn’t care much if girls thought him selfish in bed, but you? No, he needed you to give the mark of approval. He needed your praise, your validation, like his sex wouldn’t have meaning if you didn’t think it worthwhile. The way you fit around him; JJ swears to God it’s like you were made for him. He has you on your front, fucking you into the mountain of throw pillows that make up the head of your bed. He keeps your hips and ass angled upwards, holding you steady as he ruts into you over and over again. You’re a drooling, moaning mess underneath him. One of your hands is clenching and releasing the sheets much like your walls are to him. Having you like this – Christ, it makes JJ feel like a young God.

When you fall apart, it pushes JJ over the edge too, almost like a suicide pact. He’s not sure heroin could touch ecstasy quite like it. Drifting away on dopamine, JJ pulls out of you and flops onto his back, chest heaving. You shuffle atop of your sheets, curling up as you let the afterglow take over. JJ knows he should dote on you but he’s so tired and spent. After tying off and tossing the condom out in your bedroom trash, and tugging on his boxers, JJ lays back down on the bed beside you, flat on his back. One of your hands rests on his chest – damp with sweat. Just for a minute, JJ thinks. I’ll just close my eyes for one minute.

JJ tunes into the sensation of you stroking the bare skin of his back. It rouses him from sleep. Somehow, in his tiredness, he’d rolled over onto his front. Your sheets smell of fabric conditioner and safety. Goose feather pillows and Egyptian cotton sheets; a memory foam mattress that mimics what JJ might imagine falling asleep on a marshmallow to feel like.

“JJ?” You continue to run the side of your hand up and down his skin. "Are you awake?"

"No," he mumbles into the sheets.

“I want us to make this official.”

JJ groans sleepily. “Wha’dya mean?”

“I mean, I want us to put a label on this thing. I want to be your girlfriend, and I want you to be my boyfriend.”

It’s like the mattress has become a gaping wormhole and it’s sucking him in. That very thing that he was drawn to, entranced with, that very thing that he was learning and dreading to be true, every little insecurity and anxiety that had built and built since the second date…It’s all arriving at once, hitting him hard and fast like a meteor strike. 

JJ turns his head, looking up at you. You’re watching him patient, a giddy-type smile on your face, slightly disquieted with nerves.

“Well…How do you know that?”

Brows furrowing, your smile doesn’t move. Shrugging, you say, “I don’t know…I just know. I…I know it because I feel it.”

Those words do nothing to ease the panic that’s building up JJ’s body. He shuffles until he’s sat upright, staring you down like you’re something dangerous. For some reason, your innocent request feels like a trap to him. A con. A joke that he’ll be the unwilling punchline of if he agrees. And he realises what that impending feeling was, all this time. It was him waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Lucy’s point to come true and for the curtains to be pulled. To find out what the hell you wanted with him.

“You can’t just say things like that. That’s a really messed up thing to say to someone,” JJ mutters, moving away from you.

You’re frowning now, befuddled. “Why is it? It’s true, and it’s how I feel. I want to make us official. I want us to be together.”

“Well, you’re saying that now but what about if we do get together, and I meet your parents and your friends, and you realise how different we are but you feel like you’re stuck with me, and then all of it was for nothing.”

Face the picture of perplexed, your mouth contorts into something ugly. “Where is all of this coming from? What did you think we were doing? I mean, we’ve been fine this past month and I know that there’s something between us.”

“How do you?”

“Because I’m not stupid, JJ,” you sharply reply.

Good, JJ thinks. You’re getting angry. You’ll lose your temper and you’ll let something slip that you weren’t supposed to, and he can bolt without a muddied conscience. He moves away from the bed and starts grabbing his strewn-about clothes in a frenzy to bolt. 

“If there’s something between us, why haven’t I met any of your friends yet?”

You stare at him. He takes your hesitation as confirmation to his doubts. Pointing accusingly at you, he snarls, “because you’re embarrassed of me. You’re embarrassed to be seen with a Pogue-nobody from the Cut, in front of your Kook friends.”

“What is your obsession with me being a Kook!?” you exclaim. “Have you ever noticed how I never bring it up? How it’s always you, JJ, talking about it.”

“Well, I feel like I ought'a!”

“Why!?” you vociferate. 

“Because what the hell do you want with me anyway!? You’re going to mess around with me for the summer, and get your kicks, and rebel against dear-old daddy, and then ditch me for some Kook jackass, who you’ll marry and he’ll take you on ski trips and summer’s in the Hamptons, and send your snotty children to expensive summer camps, and then you’ll laugh with all your trust-fund friends about how you went slumming once too.”

With that narrative, you laugh in disbelief, mystified. “What kind of fucking story are you spinning?”

“One that’s based on nothing but the facts,” JJ shouts. He’s shaking and angry, but it’s just his panic in disguise. He saw a glimpse of happiness with you and instinctively wanted to smash it up, like a psychopath child and a harmless butterfly.  “I mean, you said it yourself - you wanted to do what you’re not supposed to do, for a change. Have a taste of rebellion and then go back to your rich-ass bubble wrap.”

JJ’s seen you possessive before. He’s seen you jealous, and scared, and snippy. But he’s never seen you angry. It’s horrifying. 

“Did it ever occur to you that all of that has nothing to do with you? Has nothing to do with you being a Pogue, or me being a Kook?” you yell. Hands flying up to your chest, holding on like your heart might fall out of your skeleton, your voice turns thick. “I was miserable JJ! I was never allowed to do anything; never allowed to go anywhere. I did what my parents told me to do. I went to bed by nine every night. I was wasting my time with all these fucking after-school extra-circulars which I don’t even care about! I hate ballet! I hate piano! Christ, I hate all of it! And my friends are fake as anything. They say one thing to my face, and come to my house for pool parties, and then bitch about me behind my back! They’re assholes, JJ! So, yeah, I didn’t want to waste my time introducing you to them because I don’t actually like them!”

His lips start to quiver uncomfortably as he watches you unravel. It’s like JJ was pulling and pulling on a spring, and now he has to stand and watch it snap.

Make-up free, hair still tousled from earlier, oversized t-shirt half hanging off your frame: there’s no Kook defining thing about you here. It’s just you - just as it always had been. 

JJ’s heart cracks as a tear falls down your cheek. With a shaky breath, in a quiet, defeated voice, you tell him, “I wanted to go out with you because I wanted to live. Because most of the time, I feel so useless and so alone that I wonder if I’m even here at all.” 

And hearing you say that finally allows the curtain to fall. Only, it revealed to JJ something entirely different to what he expected. To what he’d told himself time and time again. Seeing you cry on your bed because of him…JJ’s made some real big mistakes in his life, but this one surpasses them all. 

“So don’t put your shit on me because you’re the one that’s afraid,” you say, stealing yourself as you aggressively wipe your eyes. JJ’s narrow. It’s like poking a searing hot skewer into his most tender of wounds. 

“Afraid? What do I have to be afraid of?”

“You’re afraid of me! You’re afraid that I won’t love you back! You’re afraid of what all the shallow people in the County will think! You know what, JJ? I’m afraid too! But fuck it - I want to give a try!”

It feels as exposing as having you peel back his skin. JJ pulls on his t-shirt and shakes his head, turning for the bedroom door, mumbling something about ‘I’m not doing this right now.’ 

You dart from the bed and grab at his arm, stopping him. “No. No, you’re not leaving,” you blubber. 

JJ yanks out of your grip, turning around, lashing out like a stray animal approached all too quick. “What do you wanna know!” He yells. You recoil. “What? That I don’t have a great life? That I’m jealous of how you live compared to me! That I don’t want you to see how I really live because I’m ashamed shitless of it!”

You’re crying, hard, but JJ can’t find it in himself to stop. Why won’t he stop? The butterfly is dead, wings torn from the body, antenas shattered from the beating: but it’s like he doesn’t even want dust to remain. 

“That my dad beats the shit out of me, so I sleep at John B’s house!? That I’ll probably end up in a prison cell or an early grave!? You ain't wanna hear that shit! Don’t tell me you want to hear that shit!”

“I do want to hear that stuff! I do want to hear it!” you argue through your sobs. You lift your hands as if you might try and cup his face. “I just want to help you.”

He retracts from your almost-there hold. “Help me! What the fuck! What, do I got a fucking sign on my back that says Save Me?”

“No!”

“Do I look like I need that!?”

Reaching for him again, tears streaming, you wail, “no! God, I just want to be with you because I love you!” 

JJ grabs at your wrists, driving you away from him, driving you towards the door until your back presses against it, all the while yelling at you. Don’t bullshit me! Don’t fucking bullshit me! 

JJ’s never been lucky to have good things. He waits for his friends to get up and leave. Knows his dad will too, one day, just like his ma. He’ll end up alone, drunk, high, and not long after, dead. You? You’re just a glitch in his programming. A girl who saw a project - yeah, that’s it. A girl who saw a project, a thing to fix, and the moment you have will be the moment that you get bored, and leave him broken hearted and alone. JJ knows more than anyone: you’ve got to leave before you get left. 

But as you’re standing with your back against the wall, you don’t cower from him. Don’t wait for him to land a hit on you. Always so trusting. And seeing you, crying, sobbing, begging for him to listen to you, repeating that you love him over and over…JJ knows you’re not the malicious enemy he’s created in his mind. He knows you’re not. 

“I want you to tell me that you don’t love me." A shuddering breath, trying to calm your quivering voice. “Because, if you do, I won’t call you anymore. And I won’t be in your life…”

And JJ’s never been good at admitting when he’s wrong. Maybe he learnt it from his dad. Maybe it’s a defensive mechanism. Maybe it’s dumb, childish youth that he never outgrew. So, as you sob, waiting for him to say something - to say you love him - JJ feels his face turn to stone. Cold, emotionless stone.

“I don’t love you.”

He grabs the rest of his shit in one quick sweep and he leaves your bedroom before he has to see the long-lasting damage he once again inflicted on someone. Slams the door. Rushes down the stairs. Passes the barking Ranger, alarmed by all the yelling, and dresses as he stumbles to the front door. In the air of the driveway, he takes a gasping breath, cringing with melancholic agony. Panic rises in his chest like a fist is clenching around his heart, over and over. He raises a hand, rubbing at the uncomfortable pain. JJ knows this feeling well. Knows it from childhood and from adolescence. Knows it almost as much as he knows breathing. 

Heartbreak.  

~*~*~*~*~*~*

JJ distracted himself with drinking, smoking and treasure hunting. Indulged at night and diverted throughout the day to avoid any thoughts of you. He was lucky, in a way, that his friends were there to keep him busy. They only asked once why he wasn’t seeing you anymore, wondering why you were never around, and learnt their lesson never to ask again. He tried to hide behind the lie that he’d so easily told himself: that you were a spoilt-bitch Kook who would have ditched him soon anyway. But he remembers your voice and your face clear as day, begging for him to tell you that he loved you. He can picture all too easily your reaction the minute he stepped away from you, after telling the worst lie of his life. 

Throwing himself into work was a good distraction. It’s hard to think about you when he’s thinking about how heavy the motor is that he’s lugging, or how close he’s cutting it on time to deliver groceries with Pope. His hurt made him wreckless, like he deserved whatever bad thing might come. You were good karma for returning Ranger and his mistreatment was bound to be paid back to him by the universe. Maybe that was why he’d been so eager to exact revenge on Topper and Rafe. Their attack on Pope certainly made it easier for JJ to handle his hurt when he was reminded of how awful most Kooks are. It was almost possible to group you in with them, to help mitigate the sting of guilt that came whenever your name crossed his mind. Almost. 

But, like always, the consequences of his actions were bound to catch up to him. So, as JJ sits beside Pope and Kiara watching the outdoor movie play under the watchful gaze of Topper, Rafe and Kelce, he knows bad things are coming.

“JJ,” Pope says, nudging his leg. 

“What?”

“Gotta take a piss.”

JJ’s leg is quivering with building adrenaline. “Hold it.”

“I can’t hold it. I drank too much soda.”

“It’s too exposed, they’ll totally see us,” JJ argues. 

“I gotta go,” Pope insists. 

JJ purses his lips and glances back over his shoulder the same time Pope turns around. Their eyes land on the three pissed off Kooks, sat like mob bosses, biding their time. They might as well be smoking a pipe and stroking their one-eyed cat like some '50s Bond villain. 

“They’re blocking the bathrooms,” Pope observes. 

Yeah, no shit. JJ looks around, noticing the woodland behind the giant projection screen. “Alright, come here. I know where.” 

The two of them get to their feet, hunching over as they go to move. When Kiara asks where they’re going, JJ shrugs and tells her, ‘we gotta ring it out.’ With that, they venture to the screen and relieve themselves just behind it, out of view, into the shrubs. As they piss, Pope and JJ banter. JJ finishes first, zipping up his fly and turning around to keep watch. 

“You bring the peacemaker?” Pope asks, referring to JJ’s beloved gun. 

His stomach drops. “Oh, shit, I forgot it.”

“You forgot it?”

“Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Dude, you had one job. That’s all I asked you to do, man,” Pope complains as he finishes up.  

“I know, let’s go,” JJ quickly replies. The moment he turns, JJ comes face to face with Rafe. Fuck. 

“What’s up Pogues?”

“What’s up, Rafe?” JJ casually replies, walking backwards with Pope as Rafe approaches steadfast. He won’t let on that he’s scared - learnt that from his dad. “Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

As Pope tries to make a run for it, Topper emerges, Kelce in tow. “Hey that was some nice work you did on my boat!”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Pope fumbles.

JJ assesses the situation. Three on two. Pope isn’t the strongest fighter. No gun. Yeah, the odds are not stacked in their favour. 

“Not so burly without a gun now, are you?” Rafe taunts. 

JJ’s jaw ticks, his anger rising with his annoyance. The adrenaline is pumping and working its usual magic. Bring it on, pussy. I can take a few licks - it’s my birth-right. 

“Take one more step and I’ll rip that prepubescent face off,” JJ warns through clenched teeth. He watches as Topper approaches Pope leisurely. 

“Hey Pope, do you feel good about yourself, stealing shit? Is your mom proud of you? Is your dad proud of you?”

Pope slams his head into Topper’s upper chest and pride swills through JJ. “Attaboy! Attaboy!” He grabs his friend’s shoulder, lifting his clenched fist. “Now with your fist, see?”

With that, Rafe claims him. They begin to get in a dust-up. JJ takes the first few punches; each one that lands on his cheek brings searing hot pain that quickly vanishes with shock. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug. He taps into the pit inside of him, deep and angry and bitter. His self-hatred, for all the shit he put you through, for all the shit his dad and mom pegged on him…Throws his own punches, then. Wrestles too. Blood begins to draw. Lips crack open. Eyebrows split. But then it’s two on one: Kelce grabbing at him, holding him steady so Rafe can just lay into him. JJ’s winded as Rafe’s fist meets his stomach. He collapses in Kelce’s hold as Rafe right hooks him. And every hit, JJ takes like it’s his earnt punishment. 

“Come on, Rafe,” JJ provokes through the agonising pain. “That all you got?”

“Let go of him Topper! You fascist asshole!” 

Kiara. She helps Pope first, hitting Topper with JJ’s backpack. At least, that’s what JJ sees through the double vision. The backpack. The gun. Topper grabs it off her and tosses it, and then JJ’s too busy getting the shit beaten out of him to see what follows. It’s all just noise. Blends almost cinematically with the sound of the old-timey movie playing. At some point, it even sounds like there’s a dog barking. Blood fills his mouth like he’s at some sadistic dentist surgery. Pain numbs his nerve endings and softens his muscles. Air becomes a rarity as he’s held in a headlock, half-strangled. 

“Let go of them right now!”

Everyone goes still. JJ only notices because he finally has a second to catch his breath, gasping as the arm around his throat loosens just slightly. He opens his eyes, desperate to get his vision steady, and…no fucking way. 

There you stand like some designer vigilante heroine. Hair perfect, as always, with not a strand out of place; jewellery to the nines; make-up enhancing your gorgeous features. In your hand, clasped between perfectly manicured nails, is JJ’s gun. It’s pointed directly at Rafe’s forehead. 

Rafe laughs. “What? That supposed to scare me or something?”

You grit your teeth, harden your stare, and remain stoic and strong in your stance. Rafe just quirks a brow, a sick smile twisting upwards. 

“Oh, what, you’re gonna be the hero here? Why don’t you just run back to your daddy and mind your own fucking business?”

“Let. Them. Go.”

JJ realises then that Ranger is standing by your side. He’s growling, looking feral like Cujo, salivating at the mouth, death-glare set on Kelce who still holds JJ in a headlock. Your command and Kelce might lose a leg. 

“What’s it to you?” Topper snaps. 

“They’re my friends.”

Okay, no, JJ must have fucking blacked out or something. In the brain damage caused by Rafe, he’s seeing things. You’re his own guardian angel that his dying brain has conjured - that is the only explanation. 

All of the Kooks laugh. “Your friends?”

“I won’t ask you again,” you darkly warn, not a spit of humour in your voice. 

Rafe whistles lowly. He mockingly raises his hands to his head in surrender. Shares a laugh with Topper and Kelce. It vanishes the minute you unclip the safety. 

“You wouldn’t,” Rafe tells you. 

Slowly, maleficently, the faintest shadow of a smirk forms on your lip-glossed mouth. “You really want to test that theory?”

And that, ladies and gentleman, is how JJ Maybank ended up in the most insane predicament of his life. Nobody knows what you’re going to do next: not JJ, and probably not even you. As JJ waits, his eyes dart down to Ranger. The very thing that started all of this. 

Rafe sniffs. He juts his head at Kelce. When Kelce finally lets JJ go, Topper does the same with Pope. Kiara helps Pope up. JJ leans over, hands on his knees, coughing and gasping in air. 

“You’re gonna regret this, you know that? Better keep a fucking eye out, princess,” Rafe warns you as he saunters away with his posse. If JJ wasn’t on the brink of passing out, he’d lay him out for even looking at you.

The minute the three Kooks round the screen, acting as if nothing even happened, you drop the gun on the backpack and race over to JJ. It’s hard not to flinch after his moments-before assault when you clutch his shoulders. He realises that you’re shaking. Hears in the quiver of your voice how shit-scared you are. 

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Can you breathe?”

No and no. 

“Do you need to sit down? What should I–”

No, definitely don’t sit down. 

“Come on - we need to go,” Kiara tells you. She has Pope’s weight on her.

You seem to copy, taking her guidance from her years of experience with hanging with the guys, and guide JJ away from the scene of the crime. You grab the backpack as you go, the gun shoved inside (safety now on). Ranger licks anxiously at JJ’s hand, whining in worry. 

“I’m alright, boy,” JJ lies to the dog in a slur.

swirling, becoming blacker and blacker with every step. His body is screaming for rest and reprieve. He vaguely overhears you tell Kie where you’re parked. Lets you half-drag him to your ride. The minute JJ’s helped into the backseat, safe in the smell of you, he blacks out. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The first thing JJ notices when he wakes up is how much his head hurts. There’s a headache above his brows, similar to that which you get when hungover. It feels like his brain was a ping pong ball, rattled around in there for hours on end. Sniffing, he groans as he tries to sit up. There’s a hand pushing him back down to the bed gently. 

“Just lie still, for now,” you say softly. “No sudden movements, okay?” 

JJ groans again, eyes pressed shut. At the sensation of a straw pressing against his lips, he drinks. 

“Open your mouth,” you say after he swallows. JJ does as he’s told, in too much pain to argue. You give him a few pills - presumably painkillers - and help him chase them with water. “I’ll be right back.”

JJ must fall back asleep. When he comes to for the second time, the pain in his head is significantly lessened, as are all the general aches and pains of his body. He dreads the idea of looking in a mirror: he’s probably black and blue. Saying that, it’s not like it’s an unfamiliar state to him. Opening his eyes, he immediately recognises your bedroom. As if on cue, you walk through the door, a mug of what must be steaming hot tea in hand. When your eyes meet his, a relieved smile comes to your face. 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” he rasps. 

Making your way over, tea deposited on the bedside table, you take the seat next to him. Shit, no wonder he was sleeping so well. Your bed is like sponge cake. 

“How you feeling?”

“Like shit,” JJ grunts. You stifle a laugh. Shifting to sit up, his brows furrow as last night comes back to him, piece by piece. “Did I…Was I hallucinating, or did you save our ass?”

“Mmm, I might have maybe just saved your ass,” you innocently reply. 

Shaking his head, JJ rubs tiredly at his face. 

“I’m not even going to ask what Rafe and his gang of fairies were angry about.”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” JJ cringes. 

He finally braves holding your gaze. There’s a distance there - a reluctance to be fully present - and JJ knows it’s because of him. 

“That was really ballsy, what you did,” he tells you. 

“It's nothing,” you quietly reply. 

“You’re probably going to lose your Kook card now.”

“Never liked it that much in the first place,” you say with a half-smile. 

JJ silently laughs, shaking his head, mesmerised. He was so wrong about you. About all of it. “I was, uh...kind of a dick to you.”

“Yeah…”

“And…you were right,” he mumbles. 

Brows lifting slightly, a small, amused smile teases your lips. “What was that sorry?”

“You were right,” he repeats, no louder. 

Leaning in, a finger to your ear, you say, “one more time, I didn't quite catch it.”

“Fuck off,” JJ groans, shoving you away with hardly any force.

You snort out a laugh. The moment the humour passes, you look back to him. He feels as though he can hear your thoughts. Your anger and annoyance and insecurity and pain. He hears it all in the emotion swimming through your eyes. So, he nods.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are, JJ,” you whisper. 

One of his hairs falls into his face. Before he can react, you’re leaning forward, brushing it out the way. JJ captures your wrist quickly, keeping you near, almost panicked that if you move even a millimetre away, he’ll lose you forever. In that same frenzy, desperate to have you close, he forces out the three words he’s never let himself say to anyone. Ever. 

“I love you.”

Face an exact replica of the one you made that day on the beach, you blink at him. Once, then twice. JJ nods again. 

“I just…I can’t…It doesn’t…”

“I know,” you say, forehead bumping against his own as you lean down. Then, in a whisper, you add, “I know. It’s okay.”

JJ sniffs, suddenly overcome with emotion, and nods against you. As his eyes press shut, you kiss him. It’s slightly salty with tears but no less welcome. He winces as your hand cups his jaw. Kisses you through your mumbled apology against his lips.

And as the two of you kiss, JJ realises that this was all it ever had to be. It was never that complicated, never that layered, because all that mattered was you. Wonderfully, princess-perfect, Kook-turned-Pogue you. 

[jungkit]

want you so

heeseung x f! reader genre: fluff warnings: none wc: 902

Heeseung kept his eyes on you as you walked through the courtyard.

“Stare any longer, and your eyes are gonna fall out,” Jay says, munching on his Cheetos.

“I can't help it,” he replies, “she's just too beautiful.”

“You tell us daily, we get it,” Riki groans.

They just don't understand. To Heeseung, you're like a breath of fresh air. He loves everything about you. The way you smile, the way you laugh, how your nose scrunches when you’re concentrating on something.

Heeseung finds himself so infatuated, so in love with you.

When you call his name, it's like an angel is singing, and all you're doing is asking for a pencil.

He remembers when he first met you at freshman orientation. He was blown away.

Now, a year later, he still feels the same every time he sees you or when you approach him.

“I still don't get why you haven't confessed to her yet,” Sunoo says, and Heeseung finally takes his attention off you.

“I don't think she likes me like that,” he shrugs, “I’m okay with just admiring her from afar.”

His friends sigh, shaking their heads at his hopelessness.

“We should do something fun this weekend,” Sunghoon says, playing with his pencil in boredom.

“The fair is in town. What if we go?”Jungwon suggests.

Everyone looks at each other, silently agreeing.

On Saturday, Heeseung finds himself at the food stand, getting a corn dog.

Jake taps his shoulder, “Dude, look who’s here!”

He turns in the direction Jake is pointing to, eyes widening as they immediately find you.

“This could be your chance to talk to her!” Jake says eagerly.

All the boys are nudging him forward as he digs his heels into the ground.

“I don't think I can,” he says, voice whiny.

Protests come from behind him, “Come on!”

“Just do it!”

“What have you got to lose!”

“My dignity!” He argues, but they're getting closer to you.

Riki delivers a hard push, and before he knows it, he's falling right into you.

The boys quickly disperse, abandoning Heeseung and acting like they were never there.

Your frown soon becomes a smile as you recognize him, “Heeseung!”

“Hey, sorry about that. My friends were pushing me to go on this ride.”

You wave it off, “It’s okay! I'm glad to see you.”

You're glad to see him? Oh god, he can feel his heart beating faster.

“My friends kinda abandoned me. Maybe you could keep me company?” You ask, giving him a small smile.

This is your chance; don't slip up! He thinks to himself.

“I'd love to keep you company,” he says, giving you a smile of his own.

Suddenly, he’s being dragged by you all across the fair.

You take him to every game, and he does his best to impress you, ultimately failing.

“These games are rigged, you know?” He says as you laugh.

“Totally.”

When you pull him to the basketball game, he knows this is his chance. He has to do good.

And by god’s grace, he makes every basket, earning the top prize.

“What do you want?” He asks you, giggling on the inside when you look at him with wide eyes.

“You're letting me choose?”

“Of course, it's for you!”

You end up choosing the deer plushie.

“It reminds me of you. It has big, beautiful eyes.”

You say it casually, but Heeseung is stunned.

Big, beautiful eyes? Reminds you of him?

You purposefully chose a plushie that reminds you of him.

Before he can say something, you're pulling him in another direction.

When he looks up, he sees the love boat sign and almost collapses.

When it's your turn, he gets into the boat wordlessly.

He gulps as it starts moving, trailing into darkness.

It's quiet for a minute before you turn to him, speaking up.

“I wanted to bring you here for a reason,” you say.

Heeseung can feel himself start to sweat. Is it getting hotter?

“What is it?” he answers.

Your hand raises to cup his cheek, turning him to face you.

“I've liked you for a while now, Heeseung. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was nervous. You don't know the effect you have on me. It’s like I can't think when you're around because my mind is just filled with thoughts of you: your smile, your laugh, your eyes. God, I love your eyes. You're so kind and gentle. I just want you so badly.”

Heeseung doesn't think he was breathing the moment you cupped his cheek, but he certainly wasn't breathing now, listening to your confession.

He doesn't know what to say or how to respond.

So he doesn't.

He surges forward, capturing your lips.

Your lips are soft and taste like strawberries.

You kiss back, sighing softly into the kiss.

Your lips move in unison, gentle but passionate.

It feels like it’s been hours when you eventually pull apart.

“You don't know how infatuated I've been with you since the day we met. You're everything to me, Y/N.”

You giggle, pulling him in for another kiss.

“You're mine now,” you say slyly, making Heeseung blush.

When the ride finally ends, you and Heeseung walk out hand in hand.

As they watch you, your friends, along with his, all high-five each other.

“Thank god that worked out,” Jay says, “watching them pine for each other was killing me.”

t/n: just a little something to put out there!

[mybelovedwoo]

series of unfortunate events

wooyoung x f!reader

fluff, established relationship, funny / wc: 1.1k

warnings: a lot of incidents, just clumsy babies lol

note: i had this in my drafts for a long time now and I missed my boy so much!! but he is back now <3 wooyoung proves that he is the best boyfriend ever once again. if you want to be tagged in any of my fics, you can apply here :)

wooyoung masterlist - main masterlist

coffee spilled

It was a sunny morning, and Y/n decided to surprise Wooyoung with breakfast in bed. She meticulously prepared his favorite pancakes and a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Balancing the tray, she made her way to the bedroom, a proud smile on her face.

Just as she entered the room, Wooyoung called out, "Good morning, love!" Startled, Y/n tripped over the edge of the rug. The tray flew out of her hands, and coffee splashed everywhere, including all over Wooyoung.

Wooyoung blinked in surprise, then burst into laughter. "Well, that’s one way to wake me up!"

Y/n groaned, trying to mop up the mess. "I’m so sorry, Wooyoung."

He pulled her into a hug, coffee stains and all. "It's okay. Now I have an excuse to shower with you."

wardrobe malfunction

Wooyoung and Y/n were getting ready for a fancy dinner with friends. Y/n had picked out a stunning dress, while Wooyoung donned a sharp suit. As they were about to leave, Y/n’s dress zipper got stuck.

"Wooyoung, can you help me with this?" she asked, turning her back to him.

Wooyoung tried to fix the zipper, but it wouldn’t budge. In a last attempt, he yanked it hard, and the zipper broke. Y/n’s dress fell slightly, and she gasped.

Wooyoung’s eyes widened in horror, then softened. "Looks like we’ll be fashionably late."

Y/n sighed but couldn’t help but laugh at his sheepish expression. "You owe me a new dress."

hot and spicy

One evening, Wooyoung decided to cook a romantic dinner for Y/n. He meticulously followed a new recipe, determined to impress her. Y/n sat at the counter, watching him with admiration.

As he was flambéing the sauce, a small flame jumped from the pan, catching the edge of the kitchen towel. Panic ensued as Wooyoung tried to put out the fire with the towel, only making it worse.

Y/n quickly grabbed the fire extinguisher and doused the flames. They both stood there, covered in foam, the kitchen a smoky mess.

Wooyoung looked at her sheepishly. "Well, I was going for hot and spicy."

Y/n giggled, wiping foam off his face. "You succeeded, just not in the way you planned."

movie night 

It was their regular movie night, and Wooyoung had set up a cozy spot with blankets, pillows, and a big bowl of popcorn. As the movie started, Y/n reached for the popcorn and accidentally knocked the bowl over, spilling it all over the couch and floor.

Wooyoung looked at the mess, then at Y/n, who was apologizing profusely. He smirked, grabbing a handful of popcorn from the floor and tossing it at her playfully.

"Food fight!" he declared, laughing as he lobbed more popcorn her way.

Y/n shrieked and joined in, their movie forgotten as they turned the living room into a battlefield of buttery kernels.

a park adventure

Wooyoung and Y/n decided to spend a day at the park, enjoying the fresh air and each other’s company. They brought a kite, eager to relive some childhood fun.

As Wooyoung ran with the kite, trying to get it airborne, Y/n was busy setting up their picnic. She didn’t notice the dog that had decided to make their picnic its target. The dog bounded over, knocking over the basket and scattering their food.

Y/n tried to shoo the dog away, but it was too late. The kite string tangled around her legs, and she tripped, falling right into the remnants of their picnic.

Wooyoung rushed over, trying not to laugh. "Are you okay, pookie?"

Y/n looked up at him, covered in food and kite string, and started to laugh. "Next time, we’re sticking to indoor activities."

gym fiasco

Wooyoung and Y/n decided to hit the gym together for a change. They started with some light stretching and moved on to the treadmill. Y/n, determined to impress Wooyoung with her newfound dedication, cranked up the speed.

A few minutes in, she lost her footing and flew off the treadmill, landing in a heap on the floor. Wooyoung, seeing the whole thing, rushed over, trying not to laugh.

"You okay, pumpkin?" he asked, helping her up.

Y/n nodded, red-faced. "Yeah, just my pride is hurt."

Wooyoung kissed her forehead. "You’re still the strongest in my book."

the elevator incident

They were headed to a friend's party, dressed to the nines, and decided to take the elevator. As they stepped in, the doors closed, and the elevator suddenly jerked to a stop.

Y/n pressed the emergency button, but nothing happened. "Great, we’re stuck," she muttered.

Wooyoung shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Guess we’ll have to pass the time somehow." He leaned in and kissed her, making the most of their unexpected alone time.

After what felt like an eternity, the elevator started moving again. When the doors finally opened, they were met with amused looks from other guests.

"Best party entrance ever," Wooyoung whispered, squeezing her hand.

beach blunder

On a warm, sunny day, Wooyoung and Y/n decided to spend the afternoon at the beach. They set up their spot with an umbrella, towels, and a cooler full of snacks. Wooyoung suggested they take a dip in the ocean.

As they played in the waves, Y/n got caught by a particularly strong wave that pulled her under. She resurfaced, sputtering and missing her bikini top. Panicked, she looked around for it, but it was nowhere to be seen.

Wooyoung, trying to keep a straight face, handed her his shirt. "Here, put this on before you cause a scene."

Y/n, cheeks burning, quickly covered herself. "This is so embarrassing."

Wooyoung wrapped his arms around her. "It’s just another story to tell."

shopping spree slip-up

Wooyoung and Y/n went shopping for a friend's birthday gift. They wandered through the mall, hand in hand, laughing and joking as they browsed the stores.

Y/n spotted a display of cute mugs and hurried over to take a closer look. As she picked one up, another mug teetered and fell, knocking over several more. The sound of breaking ceramic filled the store.

Y/n’s face went pale. "Oh no..."

Wooyoung chuckled, stepping in front of her protectively. "I guess we’re buying all these mugs now."

The store clerk approached, and Wooyoung handled the situation smoothly, even making the clerk laugh. "Accidents happen," he said, paying for the broken items.

Y/n sighed in relief. "Thanks, Wooyoung."

He winked. "Anything for you, my love."

surprise gone wrong

Wooyoung wanted to surprise Y/n with a romantic evening. He set up candles, scattered rose petals, and prepared a delicious meal. As Y/n was about to arrive, he lit the candles and dimmed the lights.

Just as Y/n walked in, the fire alarm went off, and the sprinklers activated, soaking everything, including them. Wooyoung stood there, dripping wet, holding a soggy bouquet of flowers.

Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. "Well, this is one way to keep things exciting."

Wooyoung laughed too, pulling her into a wet hug. "Guess we’ll have to improvise."

-

taglist: @dinossaurz @taz-97 @soso59love-blog @tiredlittlevirgo @everythingboutkpop

[thedazzlesun]

Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Gender Neutral, sfw, and wholesome :) enjoy

• After introductions, he keeps his distance as he usually does with new people

• After a few missions you turn around to find him staring, and ask if there’s something wrong

• He seems to break out of a trance and tells you it’s nothing, he was just lost in thought. He’s realized he hasn’t been able to take his eyes off you

• You start treating his demon dogs like puppies, and they seem to like the attention too. It annoys Megumi a bit, though

• But he starts making sure one keeps you company on missions

• Sometimes you’ll tell a really stupid joke in such a serious voice

•Megumi hides his laugh with a hand over his mouth, and you think he’s so grossed out by your terrible joke that he wants to puke

• Megumi really likes the sound of your voice. Even during serious situations you have a carefree note in your voice, and he finds it refreshing

• He’ll knock on your door near sunrise or sunset one day. He’s dressed nicely, and you catch a fresh smell of him just having showered

• He hands you a small bouquet of roses. Fushiguro looks away as he hands them to you

• It’s not out of character. He always avoids eye contact. But you catch sight of the blush that lines his face when you take the gift, and you know he’s waited for a while to give them to you

• “Would you… want to get food sometime? There’s a nice place nearby with good prices.”

• You smile at him, and take one of the flowers out to gently place behind his ear

“That would be lovely.”

[bootleg-nessie]

Things that will happen in the future (based on my own experiences with time travel):

***FAQs at the end***

*All of these observations are copied directly from my notes in roughly the order I took them in

*Don’t ask about the interchanging use of past/present/future tense, you know how that stuff is with time travel

Women just started all growing three boobs instead of two. Scientists baffled

Genetically engineered catboys (no literally)

The great pyramid of Giza has been converted into a Bass Pro Shop

The entire state of Rhode Island was bought by some rich tech CEO who promptly dug a 500 foot wide trench around the entire state so that it could in fact be an island. It was soon converted into the world’s largest parking lot

Pollution has gotten so bad that fresh oxygen is now delivered straight to most homes via a subscription service

Basic necessities such as food, water, and housing are now provided for free by the government, but only for the top 1% of wealth holders

Insulin now costs twice as much as rent. “Get fucked,” say pharma companies

92.6% of new electronic appliances now have smartphone integration and require a monthly subscription to use

Most billionaires have real estate on earth’s moon

As an ongoing film experiment, Taika Waititi successfully convinced a Nebraska man that he’s been raptured and is now in heaven. He actually got Truman Show’d and now millions of viewers tune in every week to watch God (played by John DiMaggio) manipulate Robert into confronting his own views, battle cognitive dissonance, and face the realization that he might not have been as good of a person on Earth as he thought he was

Carrots have gone extinct, as have highland cows

Species of extinct animals and plants now are being posthumously renamed after the billionaires and elites most directly responsible for killing then off

Researchers discovered a sentient colony of fungus off the coast of Chile, it prefers to go by Fleebo and appears to have a incredibly complex intelligence far greater than any other observed organic being

Nobody knows where Ireland went. It literally just disappeared off the face of the earth one day and nobody bothered to question it. The story couldn’t compete in the news cycle with the recent news about a company in China that made the first real life pokemon. An entire civilization of people gone and I’m the only one who seems to remember it or even care

Fleebo and its offspring have annexed Madagascar and are threatening any retaliation with nuclear warfare and “making The Last of Us a reality.” Nobody knows if Fleebo actually has the capabilities to do this, but after the Lovecraft incident we’re all TOO goddam scared to fuck around and find out

Large snails have replaced cats and dogs as the most common household pet. Snail culture has largely taken over the world, especially Japan

The president of the United States is now decided with an oiled up twerking competition. Most people were hesitant at first but this has produced vastly more competent leaders so now everyone just kinda goes along with it

With the cost of living crisis only worsening with time, selling tattoo space on your body to advertisers has become common as people struggle to afford rent and pay their bills

North and South Korea have reunited into “Korea 2.0”

Germany has split up into East and West Germany again

Belgium and France have been annexed by West Germany and renamed “Wester Germany” and “Westest Germany” respectively

The entirety of Florida is now underwater. Most of Kansas is too for some reason that scientists refuse to explain because they’ve “sworn an oath to the eldritch gods” and that “much worse things would happen” if they did

The melting ice caps in Antarctica unveiled a lost civilization of intelligent creatures descended from a species of lungfish, predating human civilization by millions of years. They planned on hibernating for another 10-15 million years to observe the course of evolution on Earth and are very very angry at humans for waking them up prematurely and ruining all of that with global warming

The politically correct term for lungfish people is “Dipnoid” but most people refer to them by a variety of slurs, such as “finwalker” and “kelp muncher” (not that they even eat kelp)

The Great Pacific Garbage Patch has now increased to nearly half the size of what was formerly known as Canada and has been colonized entirely by pirates (the flag is actually pretty cool). The pirate nation has the 17th largest economy in the world and is projected to surpass the United States in GDP

Africa is about 2% smaller. Nobody knows why. Most people point to Fleebo, who denies having any involvement

All human-Dipnoid interaction was promptly banned by most world governments, except for the GPGPRP (Great Pacific Garbage Patch Republic of Pirates), whom the Dipnoids rely upon extensively for trade

Scientists have used DNA from fossils to recreate other species of humans. We now live alongside them like we did for thousands of years before everyone besides Homo sapiens went extinct. Racism is at an all time high

Class C and above robots are now legally recognized by most progressive countries as people

The United States government has been exposed for secretly funneling billions of dollars into the GPGPRP and using it to fund terrorist operations all over the world.

A new major religion revolving around Dave Grohl has skyrocketed in popularity. Grohilsm is now the world’s largest religion, second only to Fleeboism

Scientists discovered a new continent in the Pacific Ocean, and then promptly lost it again. Most people are convinced this was just an elaborate practical joke, but scientists “swear it definitely happened”

For a brief period of about 30 years, everything in George Orwell’s 1984 happened almost exactly as written in the book. Literally 1984

It was revealed that Jeff Epstein didn’t kill himself. He actually faked his death and spent the next few years in a drug-fueled episode of psychosis making sock puppets in a cave in Italy and then molesting said sock puppets until he died from a sock puppet related illness

Bigfoot was discovered off the coast of Georgia doing cocaine with a congregation of alligators. When questioned, he said he normally lives in Montana and was only there on vacation. He is now a celebrity, and has been featured in a number of tv shows and films, two of which he won an Oscar for. Last I checked, he was a washed up actor living in Hollywood with a reanimated Neanderthal woman

The GPGPRP raided most of England’s museums with the object of “doing exactly what they did for the last few centuries” England was understandably furious, but the rest of the world found it rather amusing

England declared war on the GPGPRP, which it promptly lost after hackers brought down the entire country’s military overnight. Much like in the 21st century, England is the world’s laughing stock

The entirety of Luxembourg relocated itself to the moon

Russia attempted to take over most of Eurasia. In retaliation to the full global effort to stop them, they launched nukes at the world’s 600 most populous cities outside of its current territory. Most of the warheads were stopped in time, but a few major metropolitan areas got hit pretty badly, including Los Angeles, Hong Kong, Chengdu, Mexico City, and Istanbul. Japan was understandably super pissed that Hiroshima and Nagasaki got nuked for a second time

In the wake of the nuclear holocaust, Canada assumed control over what was formerly Russia and assimilated many of its citizens and leaders into its own society and government. Under the new rule of formerly Russian leaders, Canada became a puppet state for the second coming of Russia. It annexed much of the United States, Mongolia, China, and a handful of other countries, becoming “the world’s first megacountry.” Crungolaska now controls a majority of the northern hemisphere

As part of a practical joke by Adam Sandler, Tom Hanks was actually marooned on a desert island like in Castaway. He lasted less than a week before he died. When I left this era of the future, Adam Sandler was serving a lifetime sentence in prison for murder

Fringe groups of crows with above-average intelligence have started popping up around the world. So far they have been observed forming small communities, crafting relatively complex tools, using rudimentary speech, performing rituals, and creating music

Aliens visited earth and had a formal meeting with many of our world leaders, but decided to leave us alone for a few thousand more years because humanity is “not yet mature enough to handle the responsibilities of interstellar travel.” They have incentivized us with a the blueprints for an Alcubierre Drive and a means to produce the exotic matter to fuel it once they deem us as being ready

The original colony of settlers on Mars has declared independence, officially becoming the first country not on Earth

We sent Tom Cruise back to space but this time we just left him there

The tether for the space elevator broke. The town known as Vatorville, famous for being the location of the takeoff point of the elevator shuttle on Earth, was completely decimated as tens of thousands of miles of steel cable came crashing back down. There were no survivors

Most people in first and second world countries have mandatory microchip implants that serve as a personal ID

Last Thursdayism has been largely denounced by quantum physicists. Current theories now revolve around “Next Thursdayism,” the belief that the entire universe was created in the future and that we all exist as a memory in the past

Synthetic organ farms for transplants and research have become a massive industry worth billions of dollars. However, there is still a huge black market for organically grown human organs, as they’re much cheaper to acquire and aren’t taxed at the exorbitant rates that lab-grown organs are

China dug a hole all the way to the center of the Earth. Turns out it’s hollow and there are people living inside. Who knew?

A university reconstructed the entire city of Rome as it was in its early days during the Roman Empire. It’s actually pretty historically accurate, except for the fact that there’s a lot less sex because it’s run by a bunch of sweaty history nerds

After Rome 2 resulted in the creation of a cult revolving around the Roman god of the dead that gained traction as a minor religion, Pluto was officially reinstated as a planet by NASA when cultists picketed their headquarters every day for nearly 3 years straight. “Fine, we’ll give these fucking virgins what they want so they’ll finally shut the hell up,” said NASA’s administrator in chief

In a display of the biotechnical prowess of Disney’s Imagineers, all the animatronics in Disney’s Hall of Presidents were replaced with clones of the originals, which went about exactly as well as you’d expect. After reports of the presidents hurling a series of racial slurs and other obscenities at the first black family to enter surfaced, the project was shut down almost immediately after it had opened. Minority admission to Magic Kingdom plummeted to 2.3% of its numbers from the previous year, making it the second whitest place on earth after a taylor swift concert

Plastic now makes up about 3% of every organism on earth by weight

Public officials are now required by law to take shrooms before running for office

Trees are considered a rare and highly sought after commodity, and are usually only owned by public institutions and the rich (the vast majority of oxygen farms use algae to produce oxygen)

FAQs:

FAQ: What time period(s) did you go to?

A: I have no fucking clue. The world stopped using the Gregorian calendar in 2063 after a gamma ray burst hit the sun. The GRB led to stellar ablation, which changed the length of a year on Earth. The sun would continue to lose mass at an accelerated rate for several more years, with the length of the year changing slightly from year to year. The world adopted a variety of different calendars which kept being updated frequently and were often super confusing and contradictory. I traveled to about a dozen different points in time, which based on my best estimates spanned within a few millennia of the current date.

FAQ: How did you obtain a time machine?

A: I think it was the 17th or 18th of June, 2055? That night, a large sci-fi looking box thingy roughly the size of a VW Bus appeared a few hundred yards away in the open field in front of my house. I tried to take a picture of the box, but for some reason the closer I got, the more the image on my camera started to become fuzzy, and by the time I got close enough to take a decent picture, the camera had stopped working altogether. I pulled open a door to reveal a corpse inside that was charred beyond recognition, who appeared to have suffocated and/or burned to death during a fire that damaged most of the interior. I also noticed a number of strange tumors and growths on the body. I pressed a random button on the remains of what I believed to be a control panel, expecting nothing to happen, but the door closed automatically and I suddenly lost consciousness. When I came to, I exited the box, expecting to still be in the field in front of my house, but instead found myself a ways outside of a small snowy village that based on my best estimates, was somewhere in northern Asia around 2-3 thousand years ago. The villagers started coming after me with spears, so I quickly ran back to the box and pressed another button, hoping it would return me to from whence I came. This time, the people I found (who were thankfully much nicer and spoke a dialect of English that I could mostly understand) told me that it was the year 506 of the PGRB-Δ4 calendar (the calendar that the United Territories was using at the time). I repeated this maybe a dozen more times trying to get home until I landed in 2023, which as far as I could tell, was the closest I had gotten back to my original time so far. It was at this point that I decided to stay and seek medical attention, as I was rather concerned about some nasty new growths on my arms and legs similar to that which I had seen on the corpse.

FAQ: Where is the time machine now?

A: No idea. It disappeared a few days after I landed in 2023. My best guess is that some poor sap found it and ended up sometime else.

(I never ask for likes/reblogs but I literally spent fucking WEEKS on this one so if you liked it pls show me some love <3)

[kohabielnin]

General Relationships

To celebrate my birthday today (February 5th), I thought I'd share some General Relationships with my favorite characters, I just put those that don't have a general relationship or bf

To be honest, I had forgotten that the Cheshire Cat has one, but as I only remembered it when I was finished, I decided that it would remain

Morningstar/Ithaqua

• As a king, he is a bit busy and sometimes forgets to pay attention to you,

• For me, there are few things he doesn't know how to do,

• Another who is cute when he wants to be, but to the public he is an evil sadist,

• You are still the only person who has seen his gentle and loving side,

• A complete little love in private,

• He is very afraid of losing you, even if you say you won't leave him

Moonlight Gentleman/Joseph Desaulnier

• He often acts like a dog,

• He loves to caress his ears and especially if you massage them, you can be sure that you will have a puppy with a wagging head,

• Exorcist to this day has not said his opinion due to the relationship you have with Moonlight,

• This dog man, just hearing his name makes his tail wag,

• He tries to hide the fact that his tail is wagging in your presence because he thinks it's embarrassing, even if you say it's cute,

• To be honest, I would like to have a Moonlight of my own because he's so cute, but I have to settle for his skin

Exorcist/Aesop Carl

• I have some controversial opinions regarding him,

• He could go from calm to cold in seconds,

• Moonlight really likes your relationship for some reason he never said,

• As an Exorcist, he sometimes comes home very late,

• He's not much for physical contact, but he enjoys stroking your hair,

• You, him and Moonlight watch the sunset every day together

Phoenix/Aesop Carl

• This man is cute and shy because of his fear of being hunted,

• Likes to watch the stars with you,

• In my opinion, he and the Cheshire Cat are the cutest, right after Victor Specter,

• He tries not to be so cute, but he just can't,

• He really likes sweets and his food,

• A great, gentle and kind companion who won't leave your side unless you ask

Cheshire Cat/Naib Subedar

• He's cute, without a shadow of a doubt the cutest after Phoenix, or even before,

• Purrs while you stroke his hair,

• Even though he is half feline, he doesn't have much freshness to eat,

• Don't think you can pet his tail, he will still bite and scratch you if you do that, he doesn't like having his tail touched,

• He likes to sleep on your lap or on top of a tree like a cat,

• The only thing he doesn't like is you changing your tone of voice when calling him, after all he doesn't like feeling like a pet

Luca Balsa

• To this day he wonders why you chose him,

• Already made a kitten robot for you,

• He doesn't really know how to be affectionate, but the important thing is that he tries,

• He's a bit annoying because of his low self-esteem,

• Alva never stops thanking you for taking care of Luca,

• He's a little jealous and doesn't like seeing you around Kevin

Edgar Valden

• He is annoying, very annoying, doesn't like anything and complains about almost everything,

• The only thing he openly says he likes is painting with you, but only also,

• He's a real tsundere,

• When he wants to, he is kind and leaves his arrogance aside, but only if you two are alone,

• He likes having you sitting on his lap,

• You may have accidentally become his muse

Matthias Czenin

• His attitude has always been a little shy and almost everything scares him, not that you can blame him,

• You two already tried to get rid of Louis, but it didn't end very well, unfortunately,

• He loves your company and feels calm in your presence,

• Louis seems to have a strange attachment to you, honestly, this scary doll,

• Please try to get rid of this doll, he is completely scary...

• Sometimes, just sometimes Louis lets you two have your privacy, but just as he disappears, he appears

[roosterforme]

Tramps and Troublemakers (Rooster x Reader)

Part of The What If Collection of blurbs for Roo and Baby Girl. Written for an ask. My masterlist. Banner by @mak-32

Warnings: angst and discussions of non-consensual kissing and touching (deals with the events from Deployment Diaries Part 9)

Tramp had been in the Craftsman for all of two hours before he was eating pieces of steak out of your hands. "He's so underfed," you whispered to Bradley who was adding water to some dog food in hopes that your newest family member would eat some of it, too. "After some food and a little bit of love, he'll be just fine. He's a little damaged, but he'll come around."

"You know," Bradley said, shaking his head, "it literally sounds like you're describing me."

"Do I need to give you a bath, too?" you asked him sweetly as you pet the dog. 

"I can do that much myself," he grumbled as he reached for his phone. "Let's facetime my parents. I want to rub it in since they never let me have a dog."

You were still in your uniform, and your hair was a mess from work, but Bradley was already calling Goose and Carole before you could even stop him. When his mom answered, the first thing she said was, "Sweet girl, you look beautiful! Are you two lovebirds going out tonight?"

But Bradley turned the phone away from your faces and aimed it at Tramp. "No. We're staying in with our new dog."

Carole seemed decidedly less enthusiastic about Tramp than she did about a night out for the two of you. "Oh. He's... cute. Looks a little sickly. Did you pay money for him?"

Bradley was laughing as he said, "No, mom. Natasha found him in a drainage ditch, and I pulled him out."

"What a hero," you added, kissing his cheek. 

"He's a stray?" Carole asked, looking scandalized. "He could have rabies."

You looked down to where Tramp's head was resting on your knee, big brown eyes looking back up at you like you hung the moon. "He doesn't have rabies!" Bradley replied, scratching the pup behind his ears. "Put dad on."

A second later, Goose was looking at Tramp and saying, "I don't know why your mom never let us get a dog. This one looks nice and loyal. Can't wait to meet him." And then Bradley's dad took your mind away from the pure happiness that was a dog in your lap and brought you back to reality. "Just a few more days until you deploy?"

"Yeah," Bradley told him. And then he kissed your forehead and stood with his phone. "I'll be right back," he told you, taking the phone outside. You didn't mind so much that he wanted to have a private conversation with his dad, but it left you curled up on the floor with your filthy dog. Bradley would be leaving for another deployment soon, and you hated the idea of it. 

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

You got drunk at the Hard Deck. It was Maria's birthday. You were supposed to be having a good time. But you missed Bradley too much, so you went outside to get some fresh air. Just a few more days without him. You could make it. Carole was flying out tomorrow morning to keep you company and see Bradley when he got home. 

And that's when Josh joined you out on the deck. And maybe you should have had your guard up, but he was your coworker. So you smiled at him, expecting to joke around like you normally did. But then he was kissing you and touching you under your dress, and you couldn't figure out how to make your body move. It was all wrong. So, so wrong.

Jake was there, and he managed to help you put a stop to it, but all you could hear in your head as he and Bob drove you home was everything Josh said to you. 

"I've been dying to do that for weeks. Haven't you? Couldn't wait to get you alone." 

"You've been leading me on the whole time I've been here!" 

"I can tell you want to fuck me."

You threw up on your front yard. You threw up everywhere. You were shaking, and it was so hard to breathe. "Bradley's going to be so mad at me," you said over and over again as tears streaked down your face. 

"Calm down, Angel," Jake said as he guided you toward the couch and got you a glass of water. Bob took Tramp out for a little walk to wear him out, and you drank with shaky hands. 

"He'll never trust me again, Jake." 

"He's better than all that, Angel." And maybe Bradley was. But you felt like you deserved a punishment worthy of your crime: you hadn't listened to Bradley and Jake when they tried to warn you. And now you felt dirty inside.

And then it dawned on you that Carole would be arriving at the San Diego airport in the morning, and your tears only got worse. You tried your best to go to sleep while Tramp curled up in bed with you.

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

You had aggressively scrubbed your skin twice. Once in the bath last night and again in the shower this morning. Your stomach and throat were aching from the tightness of your tears and the number of times you'd vomited. Bradley was never going to forgive you, and now you had to face his mom alone. 

According to Jake, Bob was on his way back from the airport with Carole. He was sitting with you on the couch, one arm wrapped around you where you were bundled in a blanket. And you were holding onto Tramp like he was the last lifeline you had to your normal life before Bradley went away.

There were voices on your front porch, and you sucked in a deep breath as your front door was pushed open wide. "If something bad happened to her, then I'll take care of it," Carole was saying to Bob, her voice more shrill than you'd ever heard it before. "Oh... sweet girl."

Your face crumpled again. You knew you looked terrible right now as you counted down the hours until Bradley returned and started freaking out at you. But Carole just looked back and forth between you and Jake together on the couch, and you wanted to tell her that you didn't have eyes for anyone except her son. But when Jake stood, you watched Carole kiss his cheek as he murmured, "Mrs. Bradshaw."

She was still looking at you as you tucked your head against Tramp's neck and cried. "You two boys are sweet. But sometimes you just need a mom. I'll call you both later."

"Yes, Ma'am," Jake and Bob said in unison, and Jake kissed your forehead before they both left. 

When the front door closed quietly behind them, you looked up to see Carole standing in front of you with her hands on her hips and a soft expression on her face.

You took a shaky breath and said, "I didn't mean for it to happen. Bradley is never going to forgive me." Your grip on Tramp tightened as he licked your face. And when Carole reached for you, he whined like he was trying to protect you.

"Well, first of all, clearly I judged Tramp a little too harshly. Looks like he's been taking good care of you," she said softly. And then she ran her hand gently along your cheek and wiped away your tears. "But second, oh my goodness... Bradley is in love with you. You spend five minutes talking to him, and he'll remind you how good he is. I'm sure of that. And this other character, the one you work with?" Carole shook her head, blue eyes shining bright with something like pride. "Let's just say Bradley's a lot like his father. And while I don't condone violence, there's something to be said about a man who protects his own. Your coworker shows up again while my son is around, and he's leaving in a right messy state, I don't care how big he is."

Then she knelt on the floor in front of you and let Tramp get used to her for a few seconds. Your voice sounded tiny as you said, "Bradley tried to warn me about him. So did Jake." You squeezed your eyes shut. "I thought they were both being overbearing. And now I have to live with the knowledge of what it feels like to have Josh touch me and hold me down while he kissed me."

You gasped for air as Carole pried your hands gently away from Tramp's fur. Her voice was calm, and her face serene as she spoke. "He touched you. And he kissed you. But if he hit you or touched you in an intimate place, then I think you should let me take you to the hospital."

"He didn't," you whispered, so thankful that Jake was there last night. "He didn't. God, if he had, then Bradley would definitely dump me and kick me out."

"I think you're wrong about that," Carole told you, collecting you into her arms. "But I sure am happy you don't have to find out. Now let's get you in the bath and get a good meal in you."

You nodded and let her fill the bathtub and help you undress. And Tramp sat on the bathmat while you enjoyed the feel of the warm water taking the chill away from your body. And you thought about Bradley coming home soon. If his own mother thought he'd hear you out and listen to what happened, then maybe he would. He'd been the perfect boyfriend up to this point.

Carole knocked and poked her head back in. "Just checking on you," she said with a soft smile. 

"You can come in," you told her. "You don't have to knock. You just saw me naked. And anyway, I'm really happy you're here." Tears filled your eyes again, but for a different reason now. 

"Oh, sweet girl, this is your house, not mine," she said, kissing you on the cheek. "Yours and Bradley's. And Tramp's, since he's been such a good boy." You watched your dog's tail as it thumped against the floor. "But I'm happy I'm here, too. Because I get to spend a little time with you. And then when Bradley gets home, you'll be feeling much, much better. I just know it. Now, what do you want in your omelette?"

You smiled and told her, and she promised it would be ready in fifteen minutes. And once you were dressed in Bradley's shirt and some sweatpants, you were feeling a lot better. And you were able to eat your breakfast. And Carole's voice in the house kept you calm. And you weren't as scared to face Bradley as you had been a few hours ago.  

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[cobaltperun]

Lost (30) - Tangled up in you

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 3.8k

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next Part

-You're the fire that warms me when I'm cold, you're the hand I have to hold as I grow old-

~X~ September 2037 ~X~

No matter how many times she thought about it, Tara couldn’t wrap her head around the passage of time. In a few days your children would turn ten, a few months ago you turned thirty-six and she would be thirty-five in a few months. Mindy and Anika adopted three wonderful children that would turn four next month, and even Chad got married and had a kid of his own on the way! Sam was forty, and she somehow managed to settle down with the female cop that infiltrated the cult over a decade ago, and it was about damn time. Frankly, Tara was grateful to the woman for having the patience to deal with Sam’s uncertainties and doubts in herself.

The point was, the time was passing way too quickly, it felt like she gave birth to Zack and Susan just yesterday and now they were slowly but surely entering their rebellious phase. Well, sometimes, and for small things, but Tara dreaded the moment they’d start arguing with you and her over everything. Soon they’d be teenagers, exploring the world through a fresh perspective, learning more about themselves, truly falling in love for the first time, and all the other things Tara frankly wasn’t ready for.

You on the other hand remained fairly chill about it, saying it was part of growing up and that you couldn’t protect them from everything. Speaking of you, you were on a business trip, to negotiate a deal and handle some minor inconveniences with a partner company. You’d come back tonight, and Tara hoped she could deal with the mess before you arrived.

The entire kitchen was almost at the point of no return, almost messed up beyond all recognition, and Zack and Susan loved it. Tara, however, wondered why she came up with this idea in the first place. “Zack, sweetheart, bring me the cream,” she asked the boy as she took a deep breath and prepared to remove the cake mold around the layered cake she and the twins made.

“Mommy, this isn’t going to hold,” Susan poked the upper layer and it moved! Why were cakes like this?! She made great food these past few days, breakfast, lunch, dinner, as long as it wasn’t really complex, sweets, or any pastry aside from the simplest ones, she more or less could make it, but cakes would one hundred percent be her downfall!

“Nonsense, we followed the recipe, and I watched Y/N make these plenty of times before!” Tara remained hopeful. It would be fine, she did watch you do this even before Zack and Susan were born, even before you two got together. She could do it. So, what if the sink was filled with dirty dishes, or if there was flour all over the counter, or if the stove desperately needed cleaning and the kids and her had cream and filling and chocolate all over their hands and faces and clothes. The cake would be amazing. Maybe a bit too sweet, because she foolishly allowed Zack to add sugar to the filling, and maybe, just maybe, Susan spilled a bit too much vanilla extract into it, but it would be fine.

“Sue is right, Mom, though Mom is more whipped than this cream so we’ll be fine,” Zack set the whipped cream next to her and climbed onto the chair to watch the impending doom he was so sure would transpire the moment Tara removed the cake mold. He was so much like you it wasn’t even funny. Calm, not bothered by most things. Susan picked up some of your traits as well, but Zack was like a sponge when it came to you, picking up your traits and habits.

“It’ll be fine,” Tara said, more to reassure herself than anything else and, with her eyes closed, finally removed the mold, only to feel the layers of the cake the three of them spent hours making just falling apart.

This was why you handled the cooking, you, unlike Tara, could make anything. And you, again unlike Tara, actually loved doing it.

“See? We told you,” Susan ripped off a small piece of the sponge, dipped it into the filling and put it in her mouth. “At least it tastes good?” she offered as Tara nearly dropped her head down on the table.

She would have done it, if Zack didn’t put his hand between her head and the messy table. “Thanks, Zack,” she sighed, lifting her head up and just sitting down on the chair. This was, in one word, a disaster.

Before the boy could reply Tara heard the sound of car pulling into the driveway and, despite the mess in the kitchen, she smiled, taking the apron off and watching through the kitchen window as you stepped out of the car with your bag hanging from your shoulder and a bounce to your step. You could have parked inside the garage, but you were clearly impatient to see your family once again.

“Mom!” Zack exclaimed, running toward the doors with a large grin on his face and Susan immediately followed him, just as happy to see you again after five days apart.

“Clean up first!” oh, who was Tara kidding, this was the longest the twins spent away from you, of course they wouldn’t realize how messy they were. It didn’t help that the kids were as attached to you as she was, they loved you, looked up to you, relied on you. You were everything your or Tara’s parents failed to be, their support and protection and Tara felt lucky she could raise the twins with you. You made one hell of a team if she could say so herself and the twins were happy, and actually excited to spend time with the two of you, unlike Tara or you were when you were their age.

She smiled when she heard your laughter. “Who let you two loose in the kitchen?” you laughed and she heard both of your children laughing and shouting, she couldn’t see what was going on, but she was certain you just lifted them up, and sure enough you walked through the kitchen doors with Zack and Susan in your arms. “Another year or two and you’ll have to take turns, you’re getting a bit too big,” you laughed and kissed their cheeks as they hugged you tightly.

“We tried to make a cake for you,” Zack spilled the beans.

“We made a mess,” Susan fake-whispered to you and then pointed around the kitchen for you to see.

“Well,” you took the horror slash crime scene in front of you in as Tara just sheepishly smiled at you. “There are words that could be used in this situation,” you chuckled, lowering the kids down and walking over to Tara.

She just looked at you, too exhausted by the failure to get up and greet you. And, well, unlike the twins she was aware of how messy she was. Although, your clothes were already stained, so maybe adding a few more stains wouldn’t hurt.

“I missed you so much,” you kissed her as you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her up, and Tara hooked an arm around your neck.

She deepened the kiss and caressed your cheek, leaving a bit of whipped cream on it. “It’s a complete failure,” she chuckled softly when she pulled back and looked you in the eyes, and she still saw the same intense, absolute love she saw all those years ago. All these years and the love you felt for her didn’t fade even a bit, in fact, it just got stronger with time.

You took her hand and brough it to your lips to taste the whipped cream. “This is fine,” you said and glanced at the filling. “That’s not thick enough though. And you forgot to put the whipped cream on the edges,” you told her, just from one glance seeing where the main issues were.

Well, you were the one who handled the cooking, not Tara.

“Can we fix it?” Susan asked as you lowered Tara back down.

“Maybe next time, I wanna eat what you guys made for me,” you said, and so you just freshened up a bit and came back to the kitchen to enjoy the end results of your family’s efforts. It was just another thing she loved about you, because it didn’t matter that the cake was a mess, Tara, Zack and Susan made it for you, and to you that meant it was perfect as it was.

“See,” Zack grinned at her, and Tara noticed that his grin looked a lot like yours. “Mom is more whipped than this,” he reminded her, causing you to ruffle his hair.

“I mean, I can’t argue against that,” you laughed, taking another bite of the cake.

“Sue got an A for her drawing, by the way,” Zack suddenly said, and Tara watched with a wide smile as Susan blushed when you, proud of her, got up and kissed the top of her head.

“I’m proud of you, Sue,” you smiled, hugging your daughter when she wrapped her arms around you.

Susan shrugged. “It’s just the usual stuff,” she said, though the smile on her face gave away the fact that she enjoyed the praise.

“Maybe, but,” you pulled Zack into a hug as well. “we’re both still proud of you. Both of you. No matter what you get at school, as long as you’re happy and put effort into what you’re doing, we’ll both always be proud of you,” you told them, and it was something both you and Tara told them as often as possible. No matter how big or how small, no matter if they succeed or fail, you would always be there to celebrate with them or cheer them up.

And Tara got up to hug the three of you at the same time. It felt good to have her entire family with her again, even if you were away for only five days.

~X~

It was late at night when you and Tara finished returning the kitchen to the original state. “Did you three have a whipped cream fight?” you asked incredulously as you brought the ladder to clean a few bits of whipped cream stains that somehow ended up on the ceiling.

Tara chuckled uneasily. “I’d like to tell you how that happened, but this whole night feels like a fever dream,” she sighed as she slumped into the chair, exhausted and sleepy, but not complaining for even a moment. Hell, she wanted to clean this all up alone and let you rest. As if you could rest knowing she was fighting the kitchen mess all alone.

At least Zack and Susan got too tired to make a fuss about their bedtime.

You climbed down from the ladder and approached Tara. “I appreciate the thought, Love,” you said, getting behind her and massaging her shoulders and neck slowly.

“That’s the spot,” she sighed contently and closed her eyes, just surrendering to the sensations of your touch over her shirt, well, your shirt, but at this point it was a shared closet. “How did your business trip go?” she asked while you lowered your hands to massage her back, or at least whatever you could reach above the chair.

“Eh, they were being greedy so I went and made it very clear we were paying them enough already, but I might need to look for another export company soon enough,” you said, thinking over the past few days. “Oh, and I managed to make a good deal, the company should earn a bit over a million from it, so that’s always a good thing,” you told her more, going into details on the deal and the work you did over the past five days.

All the while Tara nodded, congratulating, and praising you every now and then. Safe to say, you didn’t have to worry about money, and with how things were going Zack and Susan would be fine and able to pursue any interest.

~X~

Next morning you and Zack came back from the two-mile-long morning jog. Zack’s been training with you almost every morning, nothing too intense, but he went with you on a jog and did some cardio with you as well. He had no interest in martial arts though and just liked being active, and he liked to focus on the training he did do.

You followed him into the home gym you set up and, as he sat down to rest from the jog, you put on your gloves and began shadow boxing. It was one of your favorite exercises, as you moved in response to the imaginary enemy, maintaining the speed and power behind your hits as the doors opened.

You grinned, but you didn’t stop training. “Drawing again, Sue?” you asked, effortlessly switching from one stance to another.

“Yup!” Susan sat down next to Zack with a notebook and a pencil in her hands. While Zack had no interest whatsoever in martial arts, Susan did, though not the way you did. Instead of training or developing an interest in the uses of martial arts, she was mesmerized by the motions, the stances, the artistic side of it as she called it. Repeatedly she captured your movements and stances as she drew sketches, she later turned into detailed pencil drawings. She could easily depict a small fight scene through her drawings, and she was technically still nine. You were eager to see where her talent would take her. And while Zack lacked the more artistic talents, he had his own share of skills, mostly rooted in logic and math.

So, as you continued going through the motions you found yourself thinking you were the luckiest person in the world. You had two wonderful children and Tara with you, and absolutely nothing would make you happier than spending the rest of your life by their sides.

About an hour later, while you were in the middle of punching the sandbag you and the twins heard the doors upstairs opening and Tara came down with laptop in hand. “Baby you need to see this,” the urgency in her voice made you quickly take the gloves off, but the excitement in her eyes told you whatever she had to show you was good news. So, you took a few extra moments to wipe the sweat off your face as she set the laptop on the table.

Zack and Susan ran over to the laptop and paused. “UFC?” Zack read, puzzled.

You raised an eyebrow, that was the last thing you expected, but you leaned against the table and looked at the mail you got. “An invitation for the charity event? All the money made from the ticket sales will be donated,” you read, grinning as you saw the details.

“Is it because we have money?” Susan asked.

Now that you thought about it, you never really told them you were once a world champion. It just never came up.

Tara placed her arms around their shoulders and pulled them a bit closer. “Let me tell you a tiny little secret about your mom,” she winked at you and you pretended to not pay attention as the kids got excited over the idea. “Your mom used to be a world champion, the strongest female MMA fighter in the who world,” she fake-whispered.

“What?! Mom?!” Zack exclaimed, looking from Tara to you and back as if he couldn’t believe that.

“That’s so cool!” Susan shouted and ran over to her phone. From the corner of your eye you could see her Googling you and sure enough she found the proof of Tara’s claim. “It’s true! Look Z, she knocked one lady out in one punch!”

“No way!” Zack ran over to her, and you just smiled as you pulled Tara into a hug.

“You look happy,” you muttered against her neck.

“Mhm. I know you’ll accept,” she said and placed her arms on top of yours. “All these years and you’re still so strong,” she whispered as she turned her head and kissed your cheek. “My badass, adorable, MMA fighter.”

“I’ll show you adorable,” you grumbled, annoyed that she still pulled that out every now and then.

Tara looked a little too pleased with that. “I’m counting on that,” she spoke quietly, just for you to hear her. “Mmm, Daddy.” 

Fuck. She was going to be the death of you.

~X~

A month later you were more or less back in fighting shape and ready to fight. You felt good, light on your feet, with explosive punches and fast kicks and while you weren’t too confident in your grappling all these years later you had to admit that was never your go-to approach to begin with. So, here you were, once again in the octagon, surrounded by the fences and the crowd screaming your and your opponent’s name.

“You sure you don’t wanna give up, I’ll even bring you a chair so you can rest, after all, you might as well be a hag in the cage,” the girl was close to her prime, in her early twenties and, from what you heard, current world champion.

You just unzipped your jacket and tossed it outside to the team the organizers gave you and the girl paled a bit. She looked a bit like Anya now that you took a moment to look at her, only without any respect. “I’m good, brat,” you smirked bouncing on your feet and rolling your shoulders to warm up a bit.

The bell rang and the round began, and in that moment everything else disappeared, nothing mattered but the fight. Your body moved on instinct, with barely any thought in your head as you rushed the woman and landed a few quick, precise jabs.

She stumbled back, still completely open as you went for the haymaker and stopped right before your fist collided with her face. “Come on,” you pulled back and clapped a few times before beckoning her to come closer.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously as you smirked. She was faster than you gave her credit, but you weaved and dodged all of her attempts to hit you. You weren’t even keeping your guard up as she tried to go for your jaw. You just leaned back and brought your fist up, more bopping than hitting the side of her head, but she bared her teeth and tried to go for a haymaker.

You ducked and while her weight was off balance hooked an arm behind her knee and slammed her onto the floor. You didn’t follow up on it though, and instead just took a few steps back. You held up two fingers as she just blinked, looking at you as if she couldn’t believe what was going on. “One more chance, use it wisely, brat,” you said.

It wasn’t like you wanted to humiliate her, it was just that your instinct was to go for the killing blow, you needed to wait for the adrenaline to pass so you could follow all the rules. She tried again, though more cautiously this time. She was more precise, more focused, if you weren’t as relaxed and if she already wasn’t fighting at the pace you were setting she would have been a challenge, as it was, you just glided around the octagon, swaying and moving out of the way of her hits. She tried to knee you, but you just blocked her knee and pushed her back slightly. She stumbled and you went for a high kick. Her eyes widened, but once again you stopped before you could land the hit and stepped back once more.

“Warm up is over,” the easygoing smile disappeared from your face, leaving only complete focus on the fight. The cheers of the crowd became louder when you caught her in a clinch before she could even figure out that you went on the offensive. You hit her twice, breaking her hastily put up guard and then hit her face. While she regained her composure you went for a spinning back kick to the side of her head, ending the match with only a few hits and before the first round even ended.

“And the winner by knock-out is Y/N L/N!” the announcer shouted as the crowd cheered and you raised your arms high. You looked to the front row, to Tara, Zack and Susan cheering for you and, driven purely by emotions you swiftly climbed over the fence and ran over to them.

“Mom you were awesome!” Zack ran into your arms and Susan followed just a few moments later.

“Yeah? Your mom can still kick ass?” you lifted them up and kissed their cheeks.

“We have the strongest mom,” Susan giggled as her and Zack took the belt the judge was trying to give you. He looked uncertain but you just nodded, lifting your kids up higher as they raised the belt up high.

It was a short reunion with the octagon, only one fight, but you remained undefeated in your career, and you were satisfied. You fought one again, with rules and regulations and still won despite all of your instincts telling you to dispose of your opponent. And you got the chance to fight in front of your children, to show them who you once were, before the company, before training became just the way to stay in shape and capable of keeping your loved ones safe.

Eventually they gave the belt back to the judge and just hugged you tightly. With Zack and Susan still in your arms Tara stepped closer. Her eyes softened as she caressed your cheek, and then she just hugged both of your children and you at the same time.

It took years of trial and error, years of fighting to keep you and Tara and everyone else you loved alive, and you’d fight again if there was ever the need to do so. But right now nothing mattered but your family, and no matter what, as long as Tara and your children were by your side you would never be…

Lost.

A/N: So, that’s the finale, as far as the main story goes. As for the future of this story I want to do some side stories, some that are completely canon to Lost, and some that are more what-ifs than anything else. So, maybe I’ll write a few chapters about what would have happened if Tara called R over the night Amber first attacked her. Or maybe I’ll write something you request, so go ahead and tell me if there is something you’d really like to read. Truly, how often I come back to these two is as much up to you as it is up to me. Either way, thank you for reading!

Story masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next Part

Taglist: @alexkolax

[radiant-cowgirl]

i saw a bunch of other people doing this so

random redacted headcanons!

- vincent can’t handle spicy food very well, even post-turning

- ivan hates fishing

- david loves egg salad sandwiches with hot sauce (it’s his favorite comfort food)

- caelum has never had cotton candy and freelancer is pretty sure if he ever did, he would implode

- gavin doesn’t like snow

- lasko on the other hand LOVES spicy food and testing his tolerance to certain things

- damien doesn’t drink coffee or tea or energy drinks, this man is just out here raw-dogging life

- kody still tries to look at all the damn crew’s socials, even though they all have him blocked

- huxley (opposite of damien) gets his caffeine anyway he can but his favorite are the caffeine pouches (similar to zyns (these are also my favorite))

- asher loves watching mma fights and tries (gently) to recreate the moves on babe (“i could have dropped you just then! you gotta keep your guard up!”)

- james “i’m exploding you with my mind” redacted

- marcus begged his mom for a mohawk in middle school but he didn’t have the right texture hair for it and she refused to buy him all the hair gel necessary to make it a real mohawk so they just had to shave his head (kids thought he had lice)

- anton loves sending and receiving physical mail. he knows it’s impractical in comparison to texting or calling, but he loves it

- ollie has a favorite blanket, pillow, and set of sheets. he’s very particular about his bedtime routine

- elliot however could drop anywhere at anytime. and that’s nothing to do with him being a dreamwalker. he’s just a fantastic sleeper

- brachium has never had candy, but he’s curious about it

- avior really really likes classical music and it’s brought him to tears multiple times (especially jupiter comp. by gustav holst iykyk)

- milo holds the door open for everyone whenever he can. sweetheart once thought he was following them for like fifteen minutes but he was still stuck at the door

- cam loves fresh produce and is a frequenter of any local farmers market

- blake had a phase in middle school and early high school where he was super patriotic and right-wing leaning and he hates when people bring it up

- aaron actually knows most of the shaw pack boys. he tried to hire them for an event before realizing they were an empowered company. david thought he knew

- sam showed pigs and sheep when he was younger. he kinda misses it but he doesn’t have the room for livestock anymore

- vega in all his years of existing both in aria and on earth has never been truly hugged

- before falling, regulus lived on earth with his charge. they had two cats

- xavier used to travel ridiculous amounts of miles to go to food festivals around the country. he took the team with him once or twice

- geordi never deleted any pictures of him and cutie. he’s still hopeful that things will work out and he doesn’t want to get rid of older memories with them

- guy was friends with a lot of the unempowered boys in school, but lost touch with them in college

- morgan is very into hair-care. his shower looks like an apothecary shop full of mystery vials and oils. he knows what everything is and how to use it though.

- porter loves classic literature and translating latin to english. it’s one of the few hobbies he allows himself to have

- hush once traipsed into doc’s apartment, mud up to his knees and all over his face and hands, holding a bull frog. he only came to ask what it was.

[bzurk]

 zombie!au 141 x reader

dark content ahead! you've been warned.

It’d been hard at first. Women weren't treated well when people turned on each other, both healthy and infected. You were lucky when the virus started;

You were a dog trainer, surrounded by canines trained in personal protection. It was easy to scare people off. On your travels, your pack grew, a congregation of man’s best friends who were left behind. You had a whole arsenal, eventually; hunting, tracking, attacking.

This winter, though, was particularly difficult. Game was scarce, the ground frozen solid, the older dogs weakened by sore joints and aching limbs. You had run out of supplies weeks ago, trading your trained mutts for scraps and tools. Your only companions were your two remaining dogs, your only hope the compound in the distance, surrounded by wires and gates. The facility's noise, perhaps, was scaring off any nearby game. Maybe, it was already infected. Your doubts were alleviated when you saw little shadows moving about the tarmac.

You walked up to what you hoped was the front gate, arms raised and guns holstered, dogs plastered at each side.

“I come peacefully!” You bellowed, staring straight through the chain links towards the silhouetted figures. They grow closer, slowly, weapons raised and glinting blindingly under the sunlight. “I mean no harm. I would like to know if you have any food to spare. I can trade you for it.” You swung out an arm to gesture to your dogs.

The men wore fatigues and vests, packed with gear and weaponry. Well-equipped. They must have food, fresh game, stocks of MREs, dried rations.

“What you offerin’?” A man’s rough voice called back.

“Can take one of the dogs, if you’ve got enough of worth. I don’t part with them easily. Both trained, they are. Good at keeping out infected.”

It wasn’t long before Price’s three subordinates were staring at him with wide, pleading puppy-dog eyes. “Can we keep ‘em, Cap, please please please?”

Price had to admit you were a sight. Tousled, blood-stained, covered in tattered winter clothes that could barely keep out the cold. A hunting rifle strapped to your back, knives peaking from your pockets. A capable girl. Not many women out this far. He hadn’t come across one in months, not since venturing to trade with nearby settlements. Three or four months, at the least.

“Would you like to come in, love? Looks like you could do with a night of rest.”

They were nice, these four men, if not overly charming and kind. But they were nice enough to let you, and your dogs, in, even providing a tour of the premises – insisting guns were left at the door, of course. You were correct in assuming they were well-stocked. They confirmed they’d been residing in the base since outbreak day, though people came and went. They fed you, and even your two dogs. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy the human company.

The base was a stark contrast to the wasteland outside. Boxes of food and warm blankets, running water, and electricity powered by a generator. The men showed you their hydroponic garden, where they grew fresh vegetables, and a storeroom stocked with preserved foods and medical supplies. It was a veritable haven.

They introduced themselves: Captain John Price, Lieutenant Ghost, Sergeant Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish, and Sergeant Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick. They shared stories of their missions before the outbreak, their camaraderie evident in their banter and shared glances.

You felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, you had found a place where you and your dogs could be safe, at least for a few nights. These men were skilled and seemed trustworthy enough, and their compound was secure. It was enough to put your tired mind at ease.

Perhaps too at ease. It didn’t take long for your body to slump in your chair, almost sliding out of it, if not for the hands that held you steady. Your eyes were fuzzy, your hearing diminished to a faint ringing. You could feel a wet snout nosing your limp hand, firm and warm palms divesting you of your coats and the weapons hidden in your pockets, strong arms wrapping around your waist, your tummy digging into a warm shoulder as you were thrown around like a sack of flour.

“Nice little pack of mutts we’ve found, aye, lads? Don’t you worry, we’ll take good care of you. Train you up well.”

if this gets enough interest ill turn it into a fic

[gabessquishytum]

Johanna is a catpeople rights activist. So many humans treat them as their property and sex toys, but catpeople have feelings. Jo is appalled by this whole situation, and she does what she can to find foster homes and, eventually, new (good!) owners for catpeople in trouble. When she learns about catboy!Dream, it's an emergency. Dream attacked his owner, Roderick Burgess. Burgess was emotionally and physically abusive, but the law is not on Dream's side - if no one volunteers to take him in and work on his 'socialization,' he's about to be put down. They're already running out of time - since Burgess is severely injured (maybe he has his eyes clawed out?), it is ruled that Dream is highly dangerous and has only a few hours left to live. Johanna won't let anything happen to this traumatized catboy. Not on her watch! She already has a foster catgirl at home, Rachel, and she can't take another because Rachel needs much care and attention (they also might be heading somewhere romantically, so Jo doesn't want to fuck it up by bringing another catperson onto her territory), so Johanna asks her bff for a favor. Hob Gadling is well off financially, can take a vacation without notice because he is a business owner, and he's naturally friendly. Also, he lives alone - no human or cat partner in the picture. He's not very delighted with the prospect of taking Dream in at first, but Johanna really insists. So they come to pick Dream up and see him in a dire condition: bruised, injured, and malnourished, he hisses at everyone who even tries to come close to his cage. A cage?? Hob has never been involved with catpeople before, and activism has been entirely Johanna's shtick, but he quickly realizes how blind he's been. Hob organizes the best medical care for him, orders all the decent books on catpeople to educate himself, and buys all the stuff Dream might need. Dream is stunning and very clever, and his previous owner obviously was a sadistic prick. Hob wishes he could claw the fucker's eyes out himself when he sees the extent of Dream's injuries and starvation. Dream is very tense and afraid at first, but as time goes by, and Hob treats him like a person, he starts to hope that maybe he's found not only his forever home but also someone to love him this time.

New catperson owner Hob treating Dream just like he's a person - a person who deserves respect, personal space and love!!! When he goes to buy new catperson stuff for Dream, he's kind of disgusted by the fact that it's all spiked collars and wet food. Hob hates it. He walks right out the store and just goes to the normal shop instead. He gets nice comfy clothes, bedding, proper food with lots of protein. He organises a proper bathing and toileting situation for Dream in his own bathroom which Hob only goes inside to clean. Just decent stuff that any sentient being deserves.

Dream doesn't know what to make of it at first. He's gone from being moments away from being euthanized, to being allowed to just kinda... do what he wants?? He has privacy, good food, healthcare, and very pleasant company in the form of Hob. Because Hob is so kind. He takes care of Dream’s injuries and nurses him through the initial stages of refeeding. He lets Dream snuggle up to him under 3 blankets because he's so cold, still shivering sometimes. He never makes Dream do anything (except take his medication, which is very important), but he doesn't ignore him either. Dream has to wonder - is this what it's like to have a friend?

Dream recovers slowly, but he does gradually start to thrive. He wears comfy shorts and big hoodies, and takes long naps in the sun that pours through the window in the bedroom every morning. He eats fresh food that Hob gets at the market every day. He's finally learned to read! Sometimes he feels like he must have died and gone to heaven. But then the dog next door barks at him and reminds him that life is not quite perfect - but almost.

His relationship with Hob evolves slowly. They share a bed and cuddle up every night (Hob tolerates Dream’s 3am zoomies pretty well by now - they now have a treadmill for that exact purpose). Dream is also generally naked in bed, which has lead to one or two moments. The mutual attraction is undeniable. Hob just doesn't want to take advantage...

Luckily Dream is prepared to make the first move. He's a person, and that means that he's capable of choosing a life partner. It just so happens that he's choosing Hob. He's going to need some practice with kissing (he's not quite sure whether or not he's meant to bite?) but he's sure that Hob will be patient with him. He has been so far. And to Dream, that patience feels a lot like love.

[bestnottoask]

Finnick Odair x Seaside Picnic Headcanons

{Masterlist}

Pairing- Finnick Odair x Reader

Request- Yes

Summary- Just some headcanons of having a picnic with Finnick on the beach.

Genre- fluff

Warnings- none

A/N- This request was quite vague, so I decided to make it a headcanons post on what a picnic would be like with Finnick Odair. This can be read as romantic or platonic, but it does indicate closer to a romantic relationship. Enjoy!

Word Count- 600

Finnick Odair wakes up in the cold early hours of the morning just to prepare all your favorite foods and snacks, so they are fresh for you to enjoy, before he places them in his hand-made basket. 

Finnick Odair, no matter how much you insisted and tried to help him, he would refuse to let you carry anything other than yourself as you both strolled along to the beach. 

Finnick takes you to a private beach with clear, gentle waves and not a person in sight so you can both have the whole beach to yourselves for as long as you’d like. 

Finnick is scanning every inch of the beach in search of the perfect shells to gift you, and by the end of the day you have been given a large assortment of seashells ready to be made into jewellery. It’s not just shells either, if he sees a flower or a pretty rock on a trail, he will keep it in his pocket until he can give it to you. So, by the end of the day you're the one with rocks filling your pockets. 

Finnick will go for a swim while you enjoy the sunshine from the beach. While swimming Finnick finds another pretty shell and imminently wants to show you. He jogs along the sand back to where you are sitting and shakes his head like a dog covering you in sprinkles of cold seawater and then chuckles at your annoyed reaction before handing you the shell. 

He watches you intensely to see your reaction hoping you like the shell, and of course you do. You make sure he knows how much you love it and appreciates his gifts.  

Finnick will carefully be braiding your hair the second he gets a chance, as you both just talk about anything or just listen to the ocean while enjoying each other's company. 

He collects flowers from nearby and uses his knot tying skills to weave you a flower crown, which you wear until the flowers are completely dried up and then you hang it with the dry flower collection in your house. 

Finnick wouldn’t be upset if it started raining, in fact he would probably like it even more and dance around in the rain on the sand insisting you join him. When you of course agree you mention that there is no music to dance to, so Finnick imminently starts singing a song you both enjoy; only having it occasionally interrupted by both of your laughter. 

Finnick would hold your hand and guide you for a stroll along the shoreline, playfully kicking water at you every so often. 

When the sun has set, and a cool breeze has covered the beach, Finnick doesn’t waste a second in taking off his sweater and wrapping it around you and moving you into his lap to he can keep you warm while you rest your back again his chest and watch the sunset turn into stars. 

You could stay in his arms forever, wrapped in the warmth of his body. You don’t mind that he’s got sand on the same arms that he has wrapped around you, you’re just happy that it's his. 

Finnick Odair who refuses to wear sunscreen claiming that he doesn’t need it despite your best efforts to get him to wear some. The next day he’s burnt all over just as you predicted and he’s begging you to help him put on some moisturizer to which you obviously agree to help with, after teasing him of course. 

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Purely from a customer and consumer point of view, the products Meghan is teasing do not seem appealing.

I really artisan jams and jellies and cute, home grown products that look adorable are my roman empire (please don't judge me for this). But I also look for quality products, the stories of the owners, curators, as well as how and who from the products or raw materials are sourced. And I channel this interest of mine into my secret side gig as an anonymous food critic. I write about artisan cafes and food products. So looking at Meghan's 3 products from that lense -

If the only products she is offering is freshly made (perishable) jam and a dog biscuit, then it is extremely off putting for a consumer. It doesn't matter if it's beautifully packaged. There is no cohesion between the 2 products. For most people who don't have dogs or are sticklers for hygiene would be a little icked out. At the price point which she intends to sell these products it's very important to create an image in the customers mind. Wholesome, clean, fresh, cosy, tasty, happy kids happy families, warmth and lighthearted fun filled family times etc etc etc.

No all I'm thinking of is that she is making the jam on one hob of her stove top and putting together the dog biscuit ingredients in a large bowl on the same countertop (and dog food ingredients are usually raw, smelly, include things like liver, lamb, bone meal, bone broth etc). Just thinking of that has put me off of whatever was launched simultaneously with those dog biscuits.

Those products should not have been launched together. Technically she hasn't launched anything, I know. But if and when she does, a lot of people would already associate the two products together.

Of course this is just my opinion, but I do think Meghan has noone to advice her on market strategy and brand story. She is focussing too much on or and not at all on getting the basics of her brand together. A brand, as in the product itself, is always bigger than the creator.

People buy skims because it's a good product that looks good, does te work it does and it offers variety. Not just because kim wears it. People are over Kylie lipkits because the lipsticks are bad, flaky, and substandard. Kylies pillowey lips can only sell soany kits.

Using the same logic, if Meghan is not highlighting the produce, the strawberries, the raspberries, the jam making, the gardens, the fruit picking, the quality checks, the jam batches to get just the right taste it's not good. It won't sell. The company would never take off. The products will not be a success countrywide, let alone worldwide. (Which I think is what she would ideally like).

Old ask from June 17th

A perspective on ARO and why it’s failing.