#i worked the code and got fish

[leafy-m]

So I hit my 700th edit for the WHA wiki today, because I am a totally normal person

[cameronsbabydoll]

tagging along to sexist!rafe and your sons boys trip ♡

warnings: misogyny, emotional neglect, subtle sexism, dismissiveness toward female-coded labor, maternal isolation, gender role conflict

wc: 1,000 — a/n: this is pretty sad guys :(((

the car hums along the mountain road, tires crunching gravel, and you’re tucked in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in your lap. rafe’s gripping the wheel, jaw tight, eyes hidden behind sunglasses. your two boys, jake and noah, are in the back, giggling over some game on their tablets. you’d packed their bags with care—snacks, extra socks, bug spray, the works. you’d even slipped in a few of your own things, hopeful, when rafe grudgingly agreed you could come on their “daddy-son trip.”

“didn’t think you’d actually wanna come,” rafe muttered that morning, tossing the cooler in the trunk. “this is a guy thing, y’know.” his tone wasn’t mean, just dismissive, like you were a kid begging for a seat at the grown-up table. but you’d smiled, bright and sweet, and said, “i just wanna be with my boys!” he’d rolled his eyes but didn’t say no, so here you are, trying to fit into their world.

you glance at rafe, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “the lake looks so pretty,” you say, voice soft, pointing out the window at the sparkling water. “maybe we could all swim later?”

he grunts. “boys don’t wanna splash around with their mom. they’re here to fish, maybe hike. man stuff.” his words sting, but you keep your smile, nodding like you get it. you don’t want to push too hard. you’re here, that’s what matters.

at the campsite, rafe’s all business, barking orders. “jake, grab the rods. noah, help with the tent.” you hop out of the car, smoothing your sundress, and start unloading the cooler. “i can help with the tent, too,” you offer, voice bubbly, grabbing a pole.

rafe snorts, not looking up. “nah, we got it. why don’t you… i dunno, set up the food or something?” his tone says stay in your lane, and your cheeks flush. you nod, retreating to the picnic table, arranging sandwiches and fruit with shaky hands. jake runs over, all freckles and energy. “mom, can i have a juice?”

“course, sweetheart,” you say, handing him one, ruffling his hair. he grins, and for a second, you feel like you belong. then rafe calls, “jake, quit messing around, c’mere!” and your son scampers off.

the day drags. rafe and the boys fish at the lake’s edge, laughing, bonding. you watch from a blanket, book in hand, but you can’t focus. you want to be in there, part of their world. so you try. you walk over, barefoot, skirt swishing. “can i try fishing?” you ask, voice small but hopeful.

rafe raises an eyebrow, lips twitching. “you? fish?” he chuckles, and the boys giggle, like it’s the funniest thing. “baby, you’d probably scream if you caught something. just… go make yourself useful, yeah? maybe start the campfire.”

your stomach twists, but you laugh it off, tucking hair behind your ear. “okay, sure.” you head back, fumbling with the firewood. you’ve never started a fire before—rafe always does it at home—but you try, stacking logs, stuffing newspaper underneath. it takes forever, and the matches keep going out. you’re kneeling there, smudged with soot, when rafe and the boys come back.

“jesus,” rafe mutters, seeing the sad pile of unlit wood. “gimme that.” he takes over, and the fire’s roaring in minutes. you bite your lip, feeling useless, but you try again. “i made s’mores though!” you say, holding up graham crackers and marshmallows, voice bright. noah cheers, but rafe just says, “hope you didn’t burn the chocolate, too.”

dinner’s quiet. you eat your hot dog, listening to rafe tell the boys about his fishing days, all bravado and big catches. you want to share something, anything, but when you open your mouth—“i used to camp with my dad, we’d—” rafe cuts you off. “yeah, well, this is about us now. pass the mustard.”

you do, silently. the boys are happy, though, and that keeps you going. later, under the stars, you try one last time. you grab a flashlight and the camp’s trail map. “there’s a little path to a lookout,” you say, eyes shining. “we could all go, see the stars from up high?”

rafe sighs, rubbing his neck. “sweetheart, it’s late. boys need sleep, not some midnight hike. why don’t you just… clean up the dishes or something?” his voice is softer now, like he’s trying to be patient, but it still lands like a slap. you nod, swallowing hard, and start gathering plates.

as you scrub the dishes by the campfire’s glow, you hear jake whisper to noah, “mom’s trying really hard, huh?” noah nods, and your heart lifts, just a little. you might not fit into rafe’s idea of this trip, but your boys see you. and maybe, just maybe, that’s enough.

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[pedge-page]

Will hubby be jelly beans if wifey accidentally meets her ex/ some guy hit on her ????

Joel dealing with Wifey: The Ex

When you had come home with Sarah from a grocery trip, Joel could immediately sense something was … off.

You seemed a little distracted.

“How was the store?” He asks curiously, helping to unload.

You were staring off into the living room, a faint smile still stained on your lips.

“Baby?”

“Huh?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” You shake your head. “Was good!”

He nods, unconvinced. He continues digging in the bags, unloading the meats and cheeses, veggies, all while you fiddled with the wrapping of a bag.

And then you had the audacity to giggle. Out of no where. And NOT from something he said or did.

That was never a good sign.

“Forgot the potato salad,” he says quietly.

“Oh!” You check the bags again. “Shoot, sorry. I got… carried away at the store.”

He nods again, looking down. Shitshitshit. He needs to know what happened at the store!

When you go upstairs, Joel waits for you to close the bathroom door before fishing in his garage drawer for a sparkly pink device with princesses all over its square body: a walkie talkie set.

“Big Bird to Little Bird. Report in—over."

Sarah, still in her room, rushes to her toy chest, tossing things out until she gets the matching talkie. She flip on her receiver. “oh--Hi Daddy!"

"It’s Big Bird, remember? Code names only on this channel—over."

"Oh sorry. Big Bird."

"Its ok babygirl, tell me—“

"Code names!"

"Right, Little BIrd. I need ya to report on what happened at the grocery store today. Did something happen to Mommy? Over.”

Her voice comes over muffled. “Mmmm. I don’t remember I was playing with my barbie—Over.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Remember we talked about being observant? Over.”

“Yeah. Um… let’s see…” she puts her finger on her chin. “Oh she met someone!”

Joel narrows his eyes. “Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy!”

Oh crap. Joel puts his hands on his hips, glancing back up the stairwell. What guy could possibly get you so easily out of sorts like this? “What he look like?”

“Uhhhhh. Tall. He was like. Big. But not too big. But like. Bigger than me? Over.”

“So an adult?”

“Yeah!”

Christ she’s not good at this, he shakes his head.

“What did they talk about? Did he say his name?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I don’t remember what they said. But I think his name was John?”

“John? Repeat.”

“No was it Chris? Uhhh maybe it was uhhhh—“

Joel just stood there, palm on his forehead, waiting for her to settle on that very short memory.

“Oh! Marcus!”

“Marcus,” he repeats. Have you ever mentioned a Marcus? He would remember. right? And it couldn’t have been some distant friend at work either. You wouldn’t be this giddy over someone Joel doesn’t already know.

“Little Bird, I’ve got a new assignment for you--over.”

-

Sarah creeps over to the entrance of the master bathroom, perching herself at the cracked door. “I’m here—Over,” she whispers into the receiver.

“Ok good.” Joel cups his hand over the mic, safely standing at his work bench. “Now Momma’s gonna hop on a call with Auntie Maria pretty soon. Need ya to listen closely. She’ll tell her about what happened today.”

Sarah nods. “Got it. over.”

You’re busy sorting your makeup into your drawers, oblivious to the spying plot outside the room. 

Joel knew you were more likely to share gossip with Maria, especially if it’s something you wouldn’t immediately tell him. But he had to ensure you would feel alone so that he wasn’t going to accidentally eaves drop, and his big clunky shoes trotting up the stairs would have given him away.

So he settled for lighter, smaller steps in the form of the biggest nosey queen: Sarah.

On cue, your phone buzzes on the countertop.

“Hey! Oh my god guess who I ran into today??” You whisper excitedly.

Sarah couldn’t hear Maria’s responses on the other end, but she tries her best to make out your words.

“Marcus!” You exclaim. 

“Dad—Big Bird,” Sarah whispers.

“Yeah? What ya got?”

“His name was definitely Marcus.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ok ok, anything else? Who is he?”

“I’m listening. Over.”

You pace around the room, continuing your chat with Maria. “You didn’t know him at this point. I mean this was a long time ago. Do you remember I told you about him?”

There’s some muffled noise on the other end.

Then, you answer. “You know…”you voice gets as low as possible as you tell her…

Sarah gasps loudly into the walkie talkie receiver.

“What? What is it?” Joel asks fearfully.

"She said Marcus was her—wait can I say a bad word?”

“What? No--yes! go ahead just say—“

“You won’t get mad?”

“I won’t get mad Sarah just tell Daddy what Mommy said.”

“Mommy's...first BOYFRIEND.”

He should feel a little relieved that Sarah has learned “boyfriend” to be a banned word in the house, but the frozen chill that travels from his ear all throughout his nervous system sets him on reset mode.

“Hello? Daddy?”

But he doesn’t reply. 

You go on to tell  Maria: “He looks really good now. All those pimples completely cleared up.  Anyway he asked—“

Sarah whispers urgently over the receiver : “She said he asked to go out to lunch with her!”

You listen to Maria for a second, and Joel can hear your voice carry over faintly:

 “I don’t know. I didn’t tell him. I’m worried. You know how he gets. I don’t know how to tell Joel…”

 The last part came in fuzzy. “Sarah, what’s going on?”

She crackles in. “Oh she’s hanging up now!”

Joel shakes himself. “Abort. Get out of there now!”

Sarah closes the talkie, tucking it into her belt and does a cartwheel out the bedroom door just as you step out the bathroom, none the wiser.

When the little girl rushes down the stairs, she goes straight to the garage, closing the door behind her with heavy breathing.

“Were you seen?” He asks urgently.

She shakes her head, still panting.

Joel just sighs. 

Well. Shit.

-

 His fist clenched the steering wheel even tighter than before. Jaw set in his best attempt to look normal. And failing miserably.

“You okay baby?”

Joel just swallows the bile in his throat. “Everything’s great,” he grunts with a frown.

You nod. He definitely seemed a bit…off—

NO FUCKING SHIT HE’S OFF, he’s saying in his head. 

See, you eventually did approach Joel about the man at the grocery store. But what scared him a little was that you had said, “Marcus, my old friend.”

Friend.

Not ‘first boyfriend.’

not even 'ex boyfriend.'

Friend.

You specifically only told Joel he was your friend. Who invited you both for lunch. As a friend.

So yes, he’s filled with rage and confusion and fear and protectiveness and vulnerability and—

“He’d totally love you. I could see you two being friends.”

Oh Joel’s gonna make sure this Marcus never sees the light of day when he’s through with him.

You arrive at the spot: a little cafe in town. Chipper and bright. Perfect for a lunch date.

Date.

You brought your husband to your date. With another man.

He glances at you, your smiling face looking around, unaware of the bull at your grasp.

He closes his hand around yours tighter.

Then, his heart strains as you call out and wave: “Marcus!”

He’s exactly as Joel pictured: tall and slender, wearing tight and navy washed jeans, clean shoes, a plain top, a good looking but slightly rustic leather jacket, smooth faced and a neatly trimmed haircut. He stood up tall and with a great warm welcoming smile, with great teeth as he spotted you.

The man screamed office worker.

The exact opposite of Joel.

You rush up to him and go for a hug. 

Joel has to remember to not blow out his jaw yet. At least, not in public. He did spot a dumpster around the corner of the previous alleyway. Perhaps if Joel just asked Marcus to help him with his truck there…

“And this is my husband, Joel!”

The high pitched siren ringing in his ears suddenly desist, as he realizes you’re both staring at him expectedly.

“Joel,” he repeats his name with a nod.

You give him a slight confused look, smile faltering only slightly. 

Ever the gentleman, Marcus extends his large meaty hand (ugh shit maybe you do have a type) to Joel. That big smug—what Joel thinks is smug but is genuinely a kind smile—grin waiting on him.

Joel cracks his arm to life, freeing it from its stiffened place at his side and clasping Marcus’s hand—very very very firmly.

“Nice to meet the guy that finally made this one happy,” he teases nicely before slapping a hand on his biceps.

Joel’s eyelid flickered for a moment, a twinge of rage surfacing briefly. He surprises it with an extremely strained smirk. “And you are? Sorry. M’wife never mentioned ya before.”

You giggle, embarrassed. “Joel I totally did.”

“Ya didn’t.”

“I—I did.”

He shakes his head, staring at Marcus. “No, no, think I’d remember someone like this.”

You take a deep breath through your nose. What is with you? You’re shouting through your eyeballs.

He narrows his eyes at you.

Marcus can sense the awkward tension before speaking up. “I have a table if you’d both like to sit down?”

You order some water to start off. Joel a beer.

His hand squeezes yours, buried in his lap. He’d even hooked the legs of your chair so that it scraped a little closer to him, practically sitting on top of him rather than in an even 3 point circular table.

Marcus pressed his lips together. Oh boy…

“So uh…where ya from, Max?”

“It’s Marcus, Joel,” you remind him sternly.

“Sorry baby. Forgive me, Marc, new faces get blurred together when ya never hear bout them.”

He ignores the way you stomp your foot over his boot.

“Um…Yeah I’m from California actually.”

He leans back in his chair a little to cavalier, taking a sip of his bottle. “Yeah? Seems like it.”

You and Marcus turn your heads on Joel.

“Accent. Can’t ya hear it?” He coughs, clearing his name.

“Texas, born and raised, am I right?” Marcus quips. Clearly no longer pretending to fall for Joel’s fake attempts at a kind tone.

“S’right. This town right here. Whole life.”

“Yeah I bet. Let me guess… plumber?”

“Construction, actually,” Joel corrects him with a matter-of-fact snarl. “Huh let me think… college? Got a masters in … business finance?”

“Criminology.”

“Oh sure. Crying’ need for that.”

“Does a good job at keeping family’s safe in the city. Women especially.”

“I Keep mine just fine.”

“Yeah? Bet a hammer works real good in defense—“

“You bet it does, want a personal demonstration?” They’re practically standing over the table, faces a mere inches at one another.

“Joel,” you snap loudly. 

He turns down to you, only to instantly get cold feet. Ears burning red, he wipes his nose, breaking the tension and setting back into his chair softly like a scolded puppy. 

-

Joel sits in the passenger seat of the truck, slumped down. He knows he messed up. Looking outside, he sees you talking to Marcus, who’s got his arms folded over his chest. You’re clearly apologizing, cleaning up Joel’s mess. He feels awful that you’ve gotten used to doing that so often. You were right to be worried with Maria. 

You can’t trust him to behave. 

He looks away when Marcus hugs you, his soft smile returning. Something does bubble in Joel’s stomach as he watches him cup your cheek, wiping a stray treat that had fallen. 

It aches in his chest unlike anything he’s ever experienced. 

With a very small kiss to your cheek, you hug him again and wave goodbye, walking back to the truck.

Joel tries to look busy, fiddling with the loose button on his flannel as you slam the creaky door closed, the two of you sitting in silence for a moment.

“I’m…” he clears his throat. “I’m really sorry, baby.”

You just close your eyes. “What did Sarah tell you?”

Joel’s eyes go wide. “I don’t—“

“I know she’s your little sidekick. What did she say.”

“Said…said he was ya first boyfriend…”

Before you could even respond, Joel starts rambling: “I hate it, the way he looks at ya and how clean and good mannered he looks, and ya inviting me to meet your ‘friend’ when you damn well know he’s an ex? do you know how that makes me feel, angel? I’d do anything for ya, but this? I couldn’t keep my head on straight just thinkin’… wonderin’ what else you… you might be hiding from me, behind my back, n I—“

You let out a strained snort, barely contained. When he stops to look at you, you finally cackle.

“This ain’t funny, I—“ he protests.

You silence him by grabbing the back of his head and bringing him close to seal your lips over his.

He breathes in your scent, melting at the soft vanilla taste of your lip moisturizer he just bought you.

When you break, he blinks hazily. “That…I…I’m--“

You put your finger over his plush lips, humming shhhh.

Joel’s puppy eyes, the ones you’ve fallen head over heels in love with since day one, glance back at you expectedly.

“Rule number one: no more asking Sarah to play spy on me.”

He grumbles but nods.

“Rule number two: you ask me directly what’s on your mind.”

“Still don’t explain why ya called him a friend and didn’t tell me we were meetin your ex—“

“Joel.”

“Baby.”

“Joel.”

“Honey.”

“Joel.”

He sighs, his shoulders sagging. “Yes?”

“First of all, I did tell you about Marcus.”

He furls his brows. “Wh--no. No ya didn’t.”

"I did. And you didn’t remember, because you had already dismissed him from being a threat. Yeah. Yeah I know how you assess each guy I’ve ever mentioned.”

He sits back a bit in his chair. “So… Remind me again… Marcus…?”

“Yeah, I told Maria that he was technically my first boyfriend. But I wouldn’t even go as far to call him that, let alone an ex.”

“Oh hell, baby are you about to tell me you been seein’ him this whole time—!?”

You put your finger to his lips again. “As incredible of a husband you are, you’re really bad at listening.”

He nods. “M’sorry. Ya yap a lot. Go on.”

You give him a very warning look before continuing: “Marcus and I were boyfriend and girlfriend for about 8 days in the 3rd grade before he said he’d give me his fruit snacks, but then ditched me to go give them to Lilly instead.”

Joel blinks. “What?”

“You definitely know the Lilly story. Fuckin’ Lilly,” you spat venomously at the mention.

“Fuckin’ Lilly,” he repeated, because yes he absolutely did remember this story, and your life long vendetta against her.

“Maria jokes that he was my ‘first boyfriend’ because I cried in the bathroom until my mom had to pick me up in the middle of the day. I told her this story and she busted out laughing. Said I was a sensitive little bitch back then."

Right. 'Back then', he thinks silently.

“So—“ he doesn’t even know how to process— “So—“

“So… Marcus is genuinely an old friend. We went to 8th grade homecoming together where he gave me crackers and we laughed about it. I haven’t seen him in literal in decades, baby.”

He falls back in his seat completely, looking out the windshield. “Why don’t I remember this?”

“I told you: you didn’t think he was ever gonna be competition, so you didn’t commit this to memory. You just do what a good husband does: nods, rubs my feet, and says ‘girl that’s crazy’ like 5 times.”

“I…I…” his head slams back to the headrest. “I feel like a complete fool.”

“Yeah. You looked like one.”

“He… he was just…”

“Just wanted to get to know you. See the guy who makes me smile every day and has never made me cry.” You caress his gray and brown whiskers on his cheek with a soft smile. “Well, aside from tears of joy. Or hunger.”

He giggles, feeling a little better. You take his fist and press it to your lips, then unfold his burly fingers and kiss his thick palm too.

“Besides, he’s nothing like my type,” you whisper sensually, eye fucking him up and down with your lower lip bit under your teeth.

“Yeah. What’s those city hands gonna do, anyway? Type ya up a report about the new kitchen ya want?” He smirks proudly to himself. Joel always took pride in his handy worked.

Taking a deep breath, he clasps his hand over yours. “I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to let it get out of hand like that.”

You raise your brow.

“Okay okay, I’m sorry for overreacting an bein’ a jealous bastard.”

God, those puppy eyes. He gets ya real good. “Thank you, bubba. Now you gotta go apologize to him.”

Joel cocks his head incredulously. “No I think I’m good. ‘nough embarrassment from me today—“

You’re reaching over his lap and opening the door handle, shoving his body out the truck and closing the door behind him.

You give him two thumbs up.

Joel grunts, rolling his eyes. Marcus is thanking the waiter and gathering his keys when Joel intercepts him.

“Listen I—I uh…”

Marcus folds his arms across his chest, standing up tall to listen to him.

He clears his throat. “I just—look I’m not—she’s…when I’m with…”

But the other man just smirks before putting his hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. She’s worth defending.”

Joel and him both look back to you in the truck: you’re currently unraveling a snickers bar from the glove compartment and swaying your body to the blasting music, using the bar as a mic as you sing along.

The two men gaze upon you fondly. 

But Joel’s head snaps back, eyes narrow. “S’that supposed to mean—“

“Hey man, Its alright. I meant, she’s a good friend. I’ve got nothin goin with her. All good.” 

The two stand there quietly for a moment, and Joel’s about to take his leave when Marcus adds:

“She…used to be shy.”

Joel pauses, thinking hard about it.

Marcus continues, “Like didn’t feel comfortable in her skin when we were still kids. I think she was kinda like a lost puppy. So its—its nice to see her so comfortable with you. Like, genuinely her. Happy. Loved. Cared. She deserves that. I think you’re…I can tell: you’re good for her. In a way I don’t think she’s ever had with someone else. I mean, just look—“

They both look again at you, your tongue swiping chocolate over your lips like a messy toddler.

Joel can feel his heart swoon again. That’s my girl, he thinks warmly.

“Well uh, listen, thank you for meeting up with her again. Meant a lot. If ya wanted…you could come over the house any time. She… we’d love to have you for dinner.”

“I’d like that. Would love to see your home especially. I’m not very handy with … building stuff so…that’d be cool to learn something.”

Joel is absolutely beaming at that. “You got a deal.” 

They shake hands and depart.

You turn down the music as he slides back into the truck. There’s a little bit of a glow to Joel that’s beaming off him, something that had been missing all day.

“I’m so proud of you my little puppy!” You exclaim, ruffling his hair like a dog.

He just stares at you. All of you. Inside and out. He almost forgot, but there was a brief time when he knew you, and you were a bit like Marcus described. Today? You’ve still got chocolate on your cheek as you smile with the biggest teeth, so touchy and loud, unafraid to voice yourself and stand your ground, never take no for an answer, defend and protect, but love and follow dearly.

Did he… do that?

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s go home.” You turn the key in the ignition and back out of the spot.

“Home,” he repeats. But his home is right here, holdin’ your hand in his lap like it’s the most precious piece of him.

Because you are.

- - - -

Taglist:

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist @94namkooksworld @urlivingdeadgirl @yourmommycallsmemommy @kellielovesmovies @jeewrites

[l0vergirlwrites]

it’s so sweet ; spencer reid

synopsis: after coming back home from a late shift, you find a sleepy spencer ready to do your evening routines together.

warnings: established relationship between spencer & nonbaufem!reader, just pure fluff & comfort, sleepy!spencer (he’s so cute ugh)

it was just past eleven o’clock when you hitched a ride home from a trusted co-worker, briskly walking up the apartment steps & fishing your keys from your pocket. you’ve been anxious to go home all day due to the dipping negative temperatures, cold air nipping at exposed skin with each gust as ice solidified in clusters along the sidewalk.

you were tired of winter. but so much more tired of late shifts.

within five minutes, you were on your floor in record time, relief filling your bones as you breathed in the comfort of your apartment, letting your purse hang on the closet door knob, your coat hanging slightly haphazardly on the rack, & keys swished into the bowl where spencer’s resided.

following your routine, you washed your hands, let your coffee tumbler soak in the sink, & quickly made your way through the apartment to find your boyfriend.

you hoped he was awake, but secretly knew that if the amber light wasn’t on in the bedroom, he was likely passed out.

& you were right.

spencer was fast asleep, pink lips slightly parted to let puffs of air escape, fingers gently curled around a book with a knitted blanket covering his body. his mismatched socks peeked through the bottom; one was forest green with orange leaves, the other was navy blue with gray polkadots.

he had fallen asleep on the wall seat, temple pushed against the glass window as his back rested flush to the cold wall. you couldn’t imagine that would be comfortable for more than a few hours. so you walked over to his sleeping form, lifting a hand to brush away some hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“spence, i’m home” you spoke low & sweet, letting your hand rub his shoulder to gently wake him up.

he hummed at the feeling, taking a few moments to become conscious & let his eyes open, taking your face in while his brain processed the stimuli—you’re home.

“i was waiting up for you… must’ve fallen asleep…” he blinked slow, letting a yawn escape his lips before taking your hand in yours, a sleepy smile overtaking his face.

you squeezed his hand. “it’s okay, your body must’ve needed the extra rest” he nodded at your words, agreeing as he rubbed his eyes.

“did you have a good shift?” spencer implored, tossing the book to his feet so you could sit on his lap, his fingers craving the warmth of your thighs & the plush of your skin. his heart strings physically pulled when you leaned into his touch gratefully.

you shrugged your shoulders, letting out an exhausted sigh. “it was alright. just happy to be home” you emphasized, eyes dancing over his face like you hadn’t already had it memorized in your mind.

you liked coming home to him.

“me too” he quickly agreed, pulling you closer so he could kiss you, to express how much he missed you in the hours you were gone & because he just loved having the privilege to do this with you.

“did you have dinner?” he thoughtfully asked with his forehead against yours, heart thumping when your hands played with the v-neck of his sweater vest.

you nodded. “packed some of the left over thai from last night” you got that sticky feeling in your chest when spencer hummed, stroking your cheek in a way that made you never want him to stop.

“did you shower yet?” you asked him, seeing him shake his head.

“c’mon” you stood up, interlocking your fingers with his. “we can conserve water… if you want” you gave him an out, but he didn’t take it. he let you lead him to your shared bathroom, where your toothbrushes stood side by side, where your hair ties laid next to his face wash, where your drawers were colour coded & organized to a t.

the next twenty minutes were filled with light talk of your work days, each of you taking turns washing the other’s skin, spencer’s hand not faltering from your waist, you fingers fixing his hair behind his ears when some locks escaped the ponytail you tied, hugging with towels on, taking turns using the sink, spencer making faces at you in the mirror while you brushed your teeth—just the good stuff that made you feel lucky.

“are you off tomorrow?” he asked once you both returned back to the bedroom, bodies shed of towels & dawned in respective pyjamas.

yours was an old t-shirt of spencer’s from the bureau & sleep shorts, while his was one of your band tees & boxer shorts.

“uh huh, off until monday—but don’t you have—“

“hotch is giving me the weekend off”

you looked to him with surprise once you both got comfy under the sheets, your body basically draped over spencer’s but he didn’t mind one bit. his hands were comfortably on you within an instant, rubbing circles into your skin.

“really? is that what you want?”

he nodded, biting his lip between his teeth as he smiled. he was never one to accept a day from work off so easily, but with you in his life, they allowed him to get to spend quality time with you. what more could he want?

“yeah” he responded without missing a beat, as if it was the easiest question to answer. “we can do whatever you want, baby”.

you couldn’t help but pout in awe. he knew how much getting time off work to properly spend with you meant. it was a sacrifice you cherished.

“we’ll come up with plan in the morning, but i don’t really care—just as long as your with me” you said honestly, eyes growing sleepy as the heat radiating from spencer’s body cocooned you.

he nodded his head, pressing one last kiss to your hair. “sounds like a great plan”.

letting your eyes fall closed, ear pressed to his heart, spencer’s heartbeat lulled you sleep, a faint smile staying in place on your lips.

“love you” you whispered, still feeling the circular movements of his hand on your arm.

spencer contently hummed, eyes closed, only thinking of you behind his lids, “love you too”.

[keferon]

Two Peas in a Pod: part 2/?

*slips another piece into your mailbox*

_____________________

Jazz was still feeling a little woozy from his donation in the dark hours of the morning. Blaster had breakfast changed from the usual to something that felt more like a treat, probably a reward for his good behaviour, and to help his body recover. Fish heavy in proteins, fat, all that healthy stuff. Something that normally he would have tried to savour, but he wolfed it down from excitement. Too many questions ran through his head, and most he couldn't bring himself to voice.

The mer, the mer would pull through. Blaster told him about how he had saved their life with his blood. Praised him high and low. Because Blaster knew how Jazz felt about seeing blood, about how hard blood tests were for him, and that was only a tiny vial. Not three big bags of it. Jazz hadn't seen how much they had taken – because he had kept his eye closed until they left in a hurry –, and hearing about it made him dizzy for other reasons, but he honestly felt real proud of himself.

It was a new feeling, different from other moments of pride – like when he figured out the lock codes. Yeah, this gave him butterflies and the drive to help more.

Blaster laughed when Jazz offered that the vets could take more if the other mer needed it. His handler didn't think it would be, but he would pass it on to the vet team.

Jazz's morning checks were a little off, expected with having a little less fluids and feeling off-balance, but it was kept short and quick. Blaster told him that if he learned anything more, he'd tell him next time he came by and then hurried back down to the staff area. Blaster was needed elsewhere, understandably as there weren't many mer experts here, though he did leave Jazz his waterproof stereo if he wanted to play some of his favourites.

But, the orca mer was far too busy causing a whirlpool from the laps he was swimming. He was too excited to sit still, and embarrassment be damned he started practising old vocals. He didn't remember much of his mother tongue, and he was pretty sure that his pronunciation was off, that or had one hell of an accent. Echo-speech was even more rusty. And once he had gone over and over what he could recall, Jazz began to really worry. A few sentences and handful or so of words was all he had? Gods, I hope I can at least make a decent first impression. Blaster said they were just like me, so hopefully, that will give me some starting points.

More than he cared to count, Jazz would swim into the shallow waters of the medical bay and hope to see something through that window. But no one ever came close enough for him to hear any news of the mer. He couldn't even see anything on his radar, wherever they had done treatment, it wasn't in the hospital ward. It almost felt like he was being purposely kept in the dark.

And just when Jazz was starting to worry that things had taken a bad turn, a group of staff turned up around four pm. He wasn't able to ask any questions, or rather they refused to answer. Shooing him away as they got to work. Starting with closing the gate to the bay to 'keep him out'. Jazz could easily climb those walls, but that wasn't the point. Even if the gate window was closed, he could pick up that they were setting up the water hammock. But it wasn't until he heard the cautionary beeping of the hoist lift approaching that it dawned on him – the mer was coming. Now.

"Jazz," Blaster called, "… Jazz," he blew the training whistle and finally got his mer's attention. "Stop pacing and get over here."

"But–" Jazz looked back longingly up the wall.

"Jazz," his tone dropped to a firm one, and Jazz begrudgingly swam over to the pier. The human crouched and made sure that they held eye contact before he spoke. "I need you to promise me that you will stay in your enclosure."

He sunk a little, trying to play into his cuteness, but being far too anxious to really pull it off. "What do you mean?"

"Jazz," now warning him. Blaster knew full well that he was more than capable of getting into or out of places he shouldn't, bloody Houdini mermaid, "this is serious. Things are going well, we want to keep it that way. Which means keeping things calm and feeling safe. You're excited, I get it, we all are. But in about an hour, they'll be waking up and – from past experience seen with wild Mers – they will likely freak out. And the last thing we need is you hauling your tail over that wall and making things worse. Understand?"

The beeping was louder how and the hiss of hydraulics caused Jazz to look up. The arm of the lift was visible over the wall. They're here!

"Jazz," Blaster hopelessly called for his attention once more.

Within moments, a massive bundle was carefully raised, the staff calling out and coordinating. Jazz's gaze was fixed on the black and white fluke poking out, it was the only part of them he could see, and his heart began to race. Once they became hidden by the wall again, Jazz moved back to pacing by the gate without even thinking. Listening to people hopping into the water to unstrap the mer and call back n' forth. "Careful, careful! – Watch the head! – Someone give me a hand over here! – We're clear on this side! – Keep the head up!"

Really starting to sound like a broken record, Blaster chirped the whistle and called out to him again. The expression he wore must have been pretty pitiful because the look on Blaster's face dropped. "If I open the view port… will you promise me that you will wait, that you will stay in your enclosure?"

"I promise," he answered hastily, placing his hands on the gate, over the panel that would slide open.

"And that you will wait until everything is in the clear, till the staff come to oversee the integration. There will be no rushing things and no asking staff when we will open the gate."

"I promise," he repeated, trying not to beg.

Satisfied, Blaster pulled out his radio, "Blaster to Control; when the team is out of the Mer enclosure's medical bay, open the view port. Jazz's stress is mounting without a visual."

"Can do," came a quick reply.

Though, opening the panel was not. Several minutes went by, the hoist had cleared out, and much of the staff had returned to their other duties. Only two remained double-checking the mer's breathing and pulse. The moment that the last of them left, Jazz heard the lock disengage, and he retracted his hands as the panel shifted and began to slide open. The window was too small to get more than his hand – maybe up to his elbow if he wanted to push it – through, and sat just at water level– any movement sending water hopping to either side. But it gave him a clear view of the surface area inside.

Oh.

Oh. Jazz stopped breathing. While the mer's body was mostly supported by the fabric of the hammock, cradling them on their side, effectively hiding most of them from Jazz's angle. Propped up on a soft floating platform was the mer's head, face towards the gate. Sharp features and elegantly shaped finials, with flattering lines of their markings complimenting the peaceful expression as they slept. The butterflies from earlier came back stronger than ever, his heart thundering as words fumbled from Jazz's lips, "he's beautiful…"

_____________________

-GLC

Orca Prowl really is just-- too fucking pretty, omg, I'm living through Jazz in this moment like when I first saw your designs of him.

I'm more than happy to continue writing for you, you bring me so much joy. I screamed when I saw how much you liked it. If you have any requests you would like me to add to the story, leave it in the tags or comments ♡ I now plan to continue until the tsunami and a bit afterwards, maybe more, we'll see~

Upd: There is a next part!

Previous

Oh. MY GOD. OKAY ALRIGHT OKAY ALRIGHT OKA

I'M ABOUT TO START PACING IN CIRCLES JUST LIKE JAZZ OVER HERE KDLCNFJFLFB PL E A S E THIS IS SO GOOD. The tension?? You can fucking TASTE it IT'S SO GREAT GLC I LOVE YOU

The way it all starts at night and then you (as a reader) have all this additional time to boil in your anticipation?? So fucking great. Like you can really feel how little power Jazz has over the wholse situation. The plot is moving but he doesn't have any saying in it. Well. Yet heheh

Anyway haha. Im normal and I made some art>:D

[silkensago]

cloudy with a chance of you

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ megumi fushiguro x fem reader. 1.8k words — mutual pining. post-rain tenderness. friends to lovers. ⭑ you show up at his door soaked, shivering, and clutching convenience store ramen like a life raft—because of course you forgot your umbrella. but maybe that’s just the kind of girl you are. and maybe he’s just the kind of boy who always keeps a towel ready anyway.

Megumi really thought you would’ve noticed by now.

Okay, maybe that’s on him.

Maybe it’s his fault for being subtle. But in his defense, he didn’t think it would fly completely over your head. You’re not that dense. At least, not normally.

He couldn't say the same for Itadori or Nobara, but you? Out of all his classmates and even including Gojo-sensei, unfortunately—it was your intelligence and quick wit he trusted the most.

You were the one who could identify the origins of a curse from fragments of folklore and figure out a strategy faster than anyone else. He always admired that about you. The way your mind worked. The way you were both fast and precise—like a blade drawn only halfway, never wasted.

But apparently when he lends you his scarf since you always forget to pack one, or when he orders your favorite drink during a late mission debrief, or when he instinctively shields you with his cursed energy even when you’re more than capable of defending yourself—

You give him that annoyingly cute, soft smile, pat his arm, and say, “You’re such a good friend, Gumi.”

He grits his teeth.

It was already a confusing enough process to even realize he had feelings for you. Months of awkward silences and overthinking on his end and giving himself tiny mental slaps in the face every time his heart fluttered when you said his name.

But this? This was worse.

Because now he knows you like him too.

The problem is—you don’t think he likes you.

Apparently, offering you his last piece of mochi after a 14-hour exorcism shift isn’t “obvious enough.” Neither is remembering that you hate raw fish and silently swapping meals with you during team dinners. He even brought you that ugly little pufferfish keychain last week—the one you joked about wanting from a claw machine back in March and said that it looked like him. 

You’d stared at it like he handed you a bomb. Then smiled. Said thanks. And once again that dreaded word: friend.

He snorts under his breath. 

It’s not that he doesn’t love being your friend. He does. But he wants to be that—and more. 

He wondered if he’d spent so long waiting that the chance had already slipped past without him noticing.

You’re sitting beside him now on the train, going over the mission briefing that was sent out this morning, finger trailing along the paper like you're trying to trace the arc of a cursed spirit’s movement. His eyes are on you, of course. 

He knows it’s dumb. Staring won’t help.

It finally tips over during a rainy walk back from the convenience store.

[18:02] You:

heading to the store!! do u want anything?

[18:02] Gumi Bear 🐟:

No check the weather

[18:03] You:

bruh ur so boring

[18:03] Gumi Bear 🐟:

“Bruh” it’s going to rain

Don’t come crying to me if your dumb self gets soaked

[18:03] You:

i’m not gonna get soaked :(

also rude. i’m not dumb.

[18:04] Gumi Bear 🐟:

Debatable

[18:04] You:

:////

[18:17] You:

ok i may be a little teeny bit soaked

BUT i got the good melon bread for us

[18:17] You:

also can you open the door

i forgot your code again LOL

[18:18] Gumi Bear 🐟:

Coming

Don’t drip on my floor

[18:18] You:

ok mom

The door swings open just as the sky really lets loose.

You’re half-soaked and giggling, wind whipping your hoodie strings across your face as you try to shield the ramen and melon bread in your arms from the rain like they’re priceless artifacts.

Megumi stares at you from the doorway, hair damp and sticking up a little at the ends, wearing a soft white tee that clings faintly to his collarbones. He smells warm—like he just stepped out of the shower—and good, like cedar soap and something clean and familiar you can’t place your finger on. He always smells like that. It’s distracting.

“You idiot,” he says, yanking at your sleeve and stepping aside so you can stumble in, your socks already squelching uncomfortably. “Why didn’t you bring an umbrella?”

You huff, brushing water off your sleeves. “Because someone said it was going to rain, not it is raining!”

Megumi snorts, softly shutting the door behind you. “You could’ve just gone back to get one.”

“I was already soggy by then,” you mutter, clutching the food tighter. “So there’s no point.”

Then, like fate wants to rub it in, you trip a little on the entryway rug and nearly topple over, screeching like a wet cat as you flail to protect the instant noodles.

That’s what does it.

He actually laughs. Really laughs. It’s soft and breathy and sounds like it came out by accident.

And you, still dripping, still cold, can’t stop looking at him.

“What?” Megumi says, still half-smiling, as he flicks a raindrop off your nose like it personally offended him. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

You swallow. Shrug.

“You laughed.”

“So?”

“I like it.” I like you.

That’s all you say. No teasing this time. Just that, dropped quietly into the space between you like a penny into a wishing well.

He doesn’t answer. Just reaches forward, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, and tugs you the rest of the way in.

And then, softer, almost under his breath, “Go change. You know where my clothes are, right?”

You nod, heart thumping, already headed to the drawer with the oversized black shirt that smells like him.

The ramen sits forgotten on the counter. The silence stretches long, warm, quiet. And this time, you don’t mind it at all.

When you reach his dorm, you’re still damp and flushed and a little breathless from running. Your socks squish in your shoes. His hair is sticking up funny, and yours is plastered to your cheeks. You don’t say anything else when he tosses you a towel and turns a blind eye when you steal the hoodie he sleeps in.

It’s only when you're both settled, when your ramen sits forgotten on the counter and the flickering warmth of his desk lamp paints everything soft amber, that it all feels too much and not enough at once.

The quiet between you feels different now. Lighter, like a breath finally exhaled after holding it for too long. The small dorm room, with its cramped shelves and posters peeling slightly at the edges, feels like the safest place in the world.

He pulls out a worn board game from his shelf, that one you always joked you could beat him at if you tried hard enough. Tonight, though, he lets you win every round without complaint, smirking with quiet amusement.

“You’re terrible at this,” he says, shaking his head. “But somehow, you always win.”

He pokes your cheek.

Not hard, just enough to make you blink. 

“Stop that,” he says, voice low and blunt—but the tiny flicker of amusement in his eyes gives him away.

You blink up at him, startled. “Stop what?”

“That.” He tilts his head, hand still midair like he might poke you again. “You always chew your cheek when you’re nervous.”

“I do not.”

“You do,” he says easily, and then adds, “You did it before the dorm ramen cook-off last month, remember? When you thought Kugisaki was going to dump hot sauce in your pot as a prank.”

You open your mouth, ready to argue, then pause. “That doesn’t count!”

Megumi snorts. “Never before missions, though. You’re always weirdly calm before those.”

“I’m not calm,” you mutter, cheeks warm. “I just hide it better.”

His fingers brush yours for a second, quick, barely-there contact, like he’s checking you’re still grounded.

“You don’t have to hide it with me,” he says quietly.

And just like that, you’re chewing your cheek again.

He pokes it a second time.

“Quit it.”

The silence returns, but this time it’s comfortable. Drowsy, even. Your hands find each other, fingers curling together without thought. Megumi squeezes yours and clears his throat, the sound oddly loud in the quiet room.

“You always fall asleep first.” There’s a teasing edge in his voice.

“'Cause I’m smarter,” you retort, and he chuckles softly.

As you settle under the blanket, the space between you narrows. His shoulder brushes yours, sending a quiet thrill through your spine. He’s so warm.

Your eyelids grow heavy, but just before sleep claims you, you feel his fingers tighten around yours.

When you wake, the room is darker, but he’s awake, watching you with those steady eyes that seem to see everything, know more than they let on. That know you.

“You’re really here,” he says, voice softer than you expected. There’s a delicious rasp to it that you’ve only heard in your dreams.

You squeeze his hand. “Always.”

He doesn’t say anything right away.

Just brushes his thumb over your knuckles like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand. The silence stretches, but not in a bad way. It's soft. Full. Like the space between heartbeats.

His gaze lingers on you, like he’s still not sure you’re real.

You smile, barely. “Stop staring.”

“Can’t,” he murmurs.

You let out a quiet breath. Shift a little closer. Feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest against yours. His arm finds its way around you, steady and careful, and you let your head rest just under his chin.

The rain outside has slowed to a whisper.

And in the stillness, with the air smelling faintly of his shampoo and your matcha he must’ve woken up early to make—somehow escaping your vice-like bear hug to do it—the quiet between you finally settles. Whatever’s been hanging between the two of you for months, like morning dew on spring grass, it’s been there all along. You just hadn’t noticed it catching the light.

You used to go out of your way to look pretty whenever he was around—careful hair, subtle makeup, a little more effort in the way you dressed—before you really got to know each other. Like you were trying to impress someone you weren’t sure would even notice, which he definitely did, but not because of all that. You were a magnet for people because of who you were.

And not that he didn’t think you looked radiant then. But now, after all these months, watching you snuggled up close beside him with your hair tangled in a bedhead mess and a little drool at the corner of your mouth, his breath catches. 

You’ve never looked more beautiful.

This is the boy who’s held you crying with your makeup smudged, the one who knows the exact face you make when you get a little too adventurous ordering food at a new restaurant as he switches his plate for yours. The one who holds all those small, imperfect moments close, without judgment, because to him, they’re part of you.

This is real.

And you’re not going anywhere.

[thedensworld]

And No News | J.Ww

Genre: angst, est relationship

Summary: Wonwoo can't reach you all day and he was worried.

Wonwoo tapped in the passcode and slipped into your apartment. The place was dark, only a sliver of streetlight filtering through the blinds. You weren't home yet. He glanced at his watch—11 pm, and still no sign of you. His jaw tightened, frustration simmering beneath his usually calm demeanor. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed deeply before dropping onto the cold, untouched couch.

He fished out his phone from his pocket and stared at the screen. None of his messages had been delivered. Maybe your phone had died, or worse, maybe you turned it off on purpose. He didn’t know, and it bothered him more than he wanted to admit. It felt like you were shutting him out, like he was some shadow lurking on the outskirts of your life, some afterthought you remembered only when it was convenient.

Wonwoo knew it was petty to think that way. You were busy; he got it. He had his own responsibilities too. But he always tried to carve out space for you, for this—whatever it was that you two had. Yet it was starting to feel like he was the only one doing any of the carving, the only one bending and compromising until there was nothing left of himself. He hated comparing, but lately, it seemed like he was the only one trying to keep your relationship from crumbling into something unrecognizable.

The sound of the door code beeping startled him from his thoughts. He glanced at his watch again—it was past midnight. An hour had slipped by without him even realizing. He looked up as you stepped in, calling his name softly, like you hadn’t expected him to be there. You noticed him immediately because of the faint glow of the lamp he’d turned on.

“Hey,” you greeted, your voice weary as you dropped your bag and keys on the coffee table. Wonwoo watched you silently, his gaze following you as you shuffled toward the bathroom without another word. No explanation, no apology, not even a simple how are you? The door clicked shut, and he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

Of course, you were probably tired. You always were these days. But so was he.

When you finally emerged, fresh-faced and changed into your pajamas, you walked over to him, crossing your arms as if bracing yourself for something.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your tone neutral, almost distant.

Wonwoo didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning your face, searching for a sign—any sign—that you cared even a fraction as much as he did.

“What time is it?” he asked quietly.

You glanced at the clock and sighed. “Yeah, it’s late.”

“It’s past midnight,” he repeated, his voice tighter this time. “What were you doing out this late?”

You shifted uncomfortably, taking a small step back. “I was working… then I had dinner with a friend.”

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his throat dry. He hadn’t eaten because he’d been waiting, sitting here like some idiot who believed you’d come home in time. But that wasn’t what bothered him. No, it was the way you didn’t even think to inform him, the way you assumed it was okay to leave him hanging.

“I tried texting you all afternoon,” he said slowly, holding up his phone. “But your phone was off.”

You rubbed your face, exhaustion lining your features. “Sorry, I forgot to charge it.”

Wonwoo let out a humorless laugh. “You always say that. It’s not the first time your phone’s died while you’re working, and it’s not the first time I’ve been left wondering where the hell you are.” His voice rose slightly, unable to keep the bitterness out. “I was worried about you all day.”

“I’m sorry, okay? I’ve been caught up with a project we need to finish by the weekend. I lost track of time and got distracted.” Your voice was pleading, but it only made the irritation in Wonwoo’s chest flare hotter.

“‘Lost track of time,’ ‘forgot,’ ‘I’m sorry.’” Wonwoo’s eyes blazed as he leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers he was searching for. “Last time, you said sorry too. But you still did it again. Every. Single. Time.”

“I know—” you began, but he cut you off, sitting up abruptly.

“No, you don’t know!” he snapped, startling both of you. “You don’t get it. I’m tired too. I have things to do, responsibilities to take care of, but I’m always here, aren’t I? Waiting for you, making excuses for you, forgiving you before you even apologize—if you even bother to apologize at all.”

“Wonwoo, please—”

“Please, what?” he demanded, his voice breaking a little. He stood up, towering over you, his eyes filled with something raw and painful. “I’m tired of always coming second. Of always being the one who has to understand. You say you’re sorry, but you don’t change. You never change.”

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but his emotions were spiraling. He looked away, jaw clenched. “Sometimes it feels like I’m the only one trying to keep us together. Like I’m… I’m the only one who even cares.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, your voice shaking slightly. “I’m doing my best. It’s just work—”

“It’s always work,” Wonwoo muttered bitterly. “You know what? I get it. Work is important. I would never ask you to choose. But… would it kill you to make a little more room for me? For us?”

Silence fell between you two, heavy and suffocating. You looked down, your lips pressed into a thin line, and he knew then that whatever he said, however much he begged, it wouldn’t change a thing.

“Forget it,” he muttered, brushing past you and heading for the door. “I should go. You’re probably tired, right? Just get some rest.”

“Wonwoo, wait—” you called, reaching out to him, but he was already halfway out the door.

“Goodnight,” he murmured softly, and before you could respond, the door closed behind him with a quiet thud. And you were left standing there, alone, with the apology you never got to say stuck in your throat.

*

Wonwoo never got mad—really mad. And last night was the first time you’d heard his voice rise like that, cracking through the usually calm and unshakable persona he carried like armor. Sure, you two had argued before. Little things here and there, petty misunderstandings that fizzled out almost as soon as they started. It was always resolved with one of you giving up or simply brushing it aside, pretending it hadn’t happened in the first place.

In the beginning, you were the one who used to pick fights. His calm and quiet demeanor had frustrated you to no end. You couldn’t understand him, couldn’t read him, and the constant absence—both physical and emotional—drove you insane. He was always caught up in his work, giving little time for you two to sit down and have a real, heart-to-heart conversation.

You used to demand updates, craving any tiny piece of information that would give you a sense of closeness. Where was he? Who was he with? Why couldn’t he spare a second to reach out? Wonwoo was a terrible communicator, leaving you grappling to hold onto the loose threads of your relationship. But he had changed for you. Little by little, he’d learned how to make room for you, even if it meant stepping outside of his comfort zone. You’d seen his effort, and that had made you fall for him even harder.

But then things flipped. You were the one who got busy, swept into the whirlwind of your new job at an event organizing company. The endless meetings, sleepless nights, and back-to-back projects consumed your time. You thought he’d understand since he had always been the busy one. Yet as you dove deeper into your career, it was as if you’d unknowingly turned into the very person you used to resent him for being—distant, preoccupied, forgetting to even check in.

Wonwoo’s patience was unraveling thread by thread, the steadiness that had once drawn you to him now cracking under the weight of your absence. It was almost as if he were fighting an unseen rival—your job, your responsibilities—jealous in a way that confused you. Did you like his attention? His sudden need to know your every move, to constantly check up on you? Yes, you did. But you had so much on your plate that you assumed he’d understand, just as you had tried to understand him before.

Now, standing in the cold bathroom light, you were doubled over the sink, the sour bile of your dinner clawing its way up your throat. You retched violently, but nothing came out—only a bitter, acrid taste lingering on your tongue. The pain in your stomach was relentless, searing hot, and spreading like wildfire. You clutched the sink’s edge, trying to steady yourself, but your vision blurred as a wave of dizziness crashed over you.

Your knees buckled, body folding as you slid against the wall and slumped onto the cold tile floor. You tried to take a deep breath, but your lungs felt constricted, and each inhale only made the pain worse. Every nerve screamed in agony, and your entire body felt heavy—like it wasn’t even your own anymore.

Fumbling blindly, you reached for your phone on the bathroom counter. You didn’t know who else to call, who else would drop everything for you at a moment’s notice. Your fingers trembled as you dialed the one number you had on speed dial—Wonwoo’s.

It rang once, then twice, and for a moment, dread crept in. What if he didn’t pick up? What if he was still too upset, too angry with you?

Finally, the line clicked, but instead of the familiar warmth you usually heard in his voice, you were met with a cold, strained tone. “What is it?”

His indifference hurt more than you expected, but you couldn’t dwell on it. You squeezed your eyes shut, forcing out the words between ragged breaths. “Can you come…?” Your voice was a weak rasp, barely audible even to yourself.

“What’s wrong?” His tone changed instantly, the sharp edge replaced by alarm. “Where are you?”

You leaned back against the wall, your body sliding further down as your grip on the phone loosened. “I think… food poisoning,” you managed to whisper, feeling the world start to tilt and spin around you. “I think I’m going to pass out…”

“Wait, what?” Wonwoo’s voice grew louder, panic bleeding into each syllable. “Where are you? Are you home?”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, struggling to stay conscious. The phone slipped from your grasp and hit the floor with a soft thud. You could faintly hear Wonwoo’s voice calling your name, his words frantic and urgent, but it felt like it was coming from somewhere far away, almost as if you were underwater.

“Hey—stay with me! Can you hear me? I’ll be there in ten, okay? Just hang in there!” His voice cracked, the desperation palpable.

You tried to nod, to say something, anything, but your vision was darkening, the pain in your stomach swelling until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Cold sweat trickled down your face, and you fought to keep your eyes open, to stay awake for just a little longer.

“Wonwoo…” you whispered weakly, but your voice was swallowed up by the crushing silence of the bathroom.

Then everything went black.

*

Wonwoo sat quietly in the waiting room, eyes fixed on the floor as the doctor examined you. The sterile, cold atmosphere of the hospital did nothing to ease the storm of thoughts swirling in his mind. The moment he got you to the emergency room, all the anger and frustration from the night before had drained from him, replaced by an overwhelming sense of guilt. This was his fault—he was sure of it. You were lying there, weak and suffering, because he couldn’t understand you, couldn’t meet you halfway.

He was selfish. He knew that much about himself. From the moment he met you, you were everything he had ever wanted—smart, beautiful, independent—but deep down, he feared that he couldn’t be enough for you. He’d always been terrified that his flaws, his shortcomings, would eventually drive you away. But you had changed him. You had shown him how to grow, how to be better, and he wanted to be better—for you.

But last night… last night was different. He lost control. He let his insecurities get the best of him, raising his voice at you for the first time in your entire relationship. It felt wrong, and yet, in the heat of the moment, he couldn’t stop himself. He knew now that you weren’t the only one at fault. You had been caught up in your new job, excited and busy with the demands of a new career—exploring everything you could bring to the table. And more than anything, you were happy. It was written all over your face when you talked about your work, a joy you hadn’t had in your last job.

He should have understood that. After all, he had been in the same position not too long ago. When work consumed him to the point where he couldn't find time for anything else, including you. How could he have forgotten that?

The realization made his chest tighten with regret. He had no right to say half the things he’d said last night. The harsh words, the accusatory tone—they were driven by his own insecurities, not by any real fault of yours. He had projected his fears onto you, punished you for doing the same thing he had once done, and now you were lying in a hospital bed because of it.

The sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he looked up to see the doctor approaching. “It’s food poisoning,” the doctor said, his voice calm and professional. “She’s been treated, and once she wakes up, she should be fine. It wasn’t anything too serious, but she’ll need some rest.”

Wonwoo exhaled deeply, a rush of relief flooding through him. It wasn’t something worse. You were going to be okay. But still, the weight of guilt sat heavy on his shoulders. He had almost lost you, not just because of the food poisoning, but because of how badly he had handled everything. He realized now that his anger wasn’t truly directed at you—it was at himself, for not being able to keep up, for not being the partner he thought you deserved.

As he waited for you to wake up, Wonwoo made a silent promise to himself: he would fix this. No more insecurities, no more resentment. He would try harder, be more understanding, and give you the space you needed to grow. Because, in the end, all he wanted was for you to be happy—even if it meant stepping aside and letting you thrive.

“Wonwoo...” your voice was weak, barely above a whisper, but it snapped him out of his anxious thoughts. He immediately turned to you, his heart skipping as he saw your eyes flutter open. Without hesitation, he dashed to your bedside, his face softening with relief.

“Do you need anything? Are you okay?” he asked urgently.

You mumbled, “Water...” and he was quick to get some. As he gently helped you sit up, holding the glass to your lips, the sight of you drinking, of you finally awake, allowed the tension in his chest to ease.

“How do you feel? Is your stomach still killing you?” Wonwoo's voice was full of concern, his eyes searching your face for any sign of lingering pain.

You shook your head slowly, “No, I’m fine now.” Your voice was hoarse, but steady. “What time is it?”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s just past lunchtime. You’ve been out for about two hours, baby.”

You sighed, leaning back against the pillows. “I must’ve scared you when I called this morning.”

Wonwoo shook his head, leaning closer to reassure you. “No, don’t worry about that. Honestly, I’m just relieved you called. I don’t know what I would’ve done if you passed out and I didn’t know.” His voice was soft, but there was an underlying fear that hinted at how much the morning had rattled him.

You nodded, the weight of everything from last night pressing against your chest. “I’m sorry...”

“Don’t be,” he quickly interrupted.

“No,” you insisted, looking him in the eyes, “I’m sorry for last night, and for... all the other times. I made you feel like you were being neglected.”

Wonwoo sighed, lowering his gaze. “It’s not just that. I was being childish. I let my frustration get the better of me. I was wrong, too. I was selfish. I’ve been so caught up in my own feelings that I didn’t stop to think about how hard it must be for you... waiting for me while I was busy all the time.” His voice cracked a little as he finally admitted the guilt he’d been carrying.

You reached for his hand, your touch warm and reassuring. “But still, I shouldn’t have made you feel like I was ignoring you. I wasn’t trying to push you away. It’s just... I’ve been feeling so overwhelmed with work lately, trying to prove myself, trying to manage everything.”

Wonwoo looked at you, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know. I get it now. And I don’t want you to take anything I said last night to heart. It was just... I was angry, and I didn’t mean it. I promise.”

You gave him a small smile, one that held both forgiveness and exhaustion. Then, with a playful stretch of your arms, you said, “I want a hug.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help the soft chuckle that escaped him, and without hesitation, he wrapped you in a warm embrace, one that seemed to melt away all the lingering tension between you. It felt right—like this was where you both needed to be after everything.

“Let’s get lunch after this,” Wonwoo murmured, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Anything you want.”

Your ears perked up, and you pulled back just enough to look at him with playful curiosity. “Anything I want?”

Wonwoo chuckled again, his smile soft and full of affection. “Yes, anything you want.”

He leaned down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a moment before whispering, “I love you. I’ll always love you, no matter what.”

As his words sank in, you felt a warmth spread through your chest, and for the first time in days, everything felt at peace.

[pathologicalreid]

the anniversary effect | s.r.

in which the anniversary of reader's assault nears and Spencer would move heaven and earth to make sure she's okay

margovember

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst (hurt/comfort) content warnings: past sa, rohypnol, chemist!reader, technically a continuation of don't get dark, but you don't have to read it first, not proofread because im a freak, panic attack, hydroxyzine, ptsd, read with care word count: 1.96k a/n: @lilacsandlavenderhaze you asked me to tag you when i publish this <3 so here it is <3 also hey guys do we like our summaries in the second or third person?

Spencer looked down at the keypad that would unlock the door to your lab. A custodian had let him in the chemistry building after a slight misuse of his bureau credentials, but he hadn’t realized that he wouldn’t be able to get into the laboratory. Every time he’d been here before, it had been either during working hours or you’d known to expect him. This time, you had no idea he was here.

He'd been looking everywhere for you, and he wasn’t sure why the lab wasn’t the first place he checked. Garcia had checked your phone’s location for him.

He eyed the keypad as if it were an enemy, looking for patterns in which keys were more worn than others, but your lab wasn’t the only one behind these doors. There was no way for him to be sure.

Ten keys mean ten thousand possible permutations, and that didn’t include the possibility that he might need to hit the pound sign or asterisk before or after the code. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he called your cell first—it went straight to voicemail. When he called your lab phone, it rang six times before he was asked to leave a message. He put his phone back in his pocket and tried a number—your birth year—and tried the same number with the pound sign and asterisk.

Spencer ran a frantic hand through his hair. He never should’ve gone on the case. He never should’ve been in Arizona while he knew you were stuck in your own mind. He tried another combination—the year you got your PhD—to no avail.

The two of you had talked about it last week. You started pulling away from him, and he finally commented on your behavior when his hand on your shoulder frightened you so badly that you dropped your favorite mug on the kitchen floor. Thankfully you hadn’t been burnt by any of the hot coffee, but upon discovering the mug was ruined, you were inconsolable. It was as if the broken mug had been your final straw, and Spencer had left for Flagstaff that day.

He tried a new combination—your birth month and date—and the keypad still flashed red. He released a huff of frustration and wondered if it would be fair form to shoot out the lock. Spencer shook his head, dismissing the extreme option from his list of choices before he resorted to wiggling the door handle, hoping the mechanism would fail and he could open the door.

A noise behind him caught his attention. Briefly, he made eye contact with the custodian, a young guy with spiked blonde hair, “Did you forget your ID?” He asked, pulling a wired earbud from his ear and jutting his chin in the direction of the door.

The lie formed in Spencer’s mind, already building a story to run by the custodian in order to get through the doors, “I left it in my office, would you mind?” Spencer gestured to the keypad, hoping he could get the custodian to swipe him through.

“Yeah, sure,” the blonde guy said, stalking over and pulling on his badge reel, swiping his university ID, and opening the door when it finally flashed green. “Have a good night, man,” the employee said, replacing his earbud before returning to his cart.

It was almost too easy to get him to open the door, which Spencer didn’t particularly appreciate. In this instance, it turned out to be beneficial, but he didn’t like that anyone could be let into the labs if they simply looked like they might belong. Instead of griping about it, he thanked him and slipped through the door, shoving his hands in his pockets and making his way to your private lab.

You’d taken a new job recently, jumping to a different university in the district where they offered you a private lab for your research, and you seemed happy here. You had all of the freedom you needed to do things like stay at work even as the clock approached midnight. Maybe it was too much freedom, at least for right now.

He opened the door that had your name written across it, slowly stepping into the dark lab as he looked around for you. Spencer didn’t see you, and there weren’t many places for you to be out of view, in the dark, his other senses accommodated the loss of his sight, and his ears pricked when he heard a small shuffle.

Taking another step forward, he peeked around a lab table and found you.

You backed yourself into a corner, leaving nothing but a pile of limbs flush with the cabinet as you sat in silence, either ignoring or unaware of Spencer’s presence. He approached you with the same delicacy that one would approach a doe, he didn’t want to scare you. Hundreds of possibilities flurried through his mind as he crouched in front of you and took notice of the small bottle in your hand.

When you and Spencer had just started dating, before you’d ever been intimate, you’d told him about a time you went out with a group of college friends that ended with one of them attacking you. He drugged you and assaulted you, leaving you with a physical scar on your side and an emotional one on your heart.

Spencer didn’t make a habit of hating people he never met, but he made an exception in this case. He allowed himself to despise this man on your behalf, justifying his emotions every time he remembered how badly the memories made you cry.

It’d been three years, almost to the date since you’d been attacked, and all it took was a good look at the bottle in your hand and he knew exactly what was going on. He read the label over again. Flunitrazepam.

Rohypnol.

“Hey, baby,” Spencer whispered, morphing his tone into something that would suit the atmosphere. He watched your body language, the way your breathing hitched at the sound of your voice.

The despondent look in your eyes snapped into fear before you settled, your shoulders calming down slightly at the recognition that there wasn’t an enemy in front of you. It was Spencer.

Swallowing thickly, he reached out a hand and took the bottle. You tightened your grip on it, not wanting him to take it from you, “It’s okay. You’re okay,” he assured you, “I’m just gonna set this on the counter for you.”

Your grip slackened and he followed through on his promise, keeping a wary eye on you as you looked around the lab, staring at the floor as if it was entirely foreign to you, “I don’t remember sitting,” you muttered aimlessly, looking up at Spencer through your safety goggles. Spencer noticed the way your breathing quickened, “I didn’t— What time is it?”

He shook his head, trying to grab your hands before you pulled them into your lap, he settled for one hand on your knee, something to ground you, “It’s late,” he told you.

“I… I had a meeting with a professor in pharmacology. We were… he wanted to work with me on a project,” you placed your head in your hands, shaking your head like you had lost time. “He’d read my research on the dye they use in Rohypnol to make light-colored drinks turn blue, and wondered if we could find something to color dark liquids like cola.”

It was terrible, atrocious timing on the part of the pharmacist, but he didn’t know any better. Instead of telling you that, Spencer sat down on the floor in front of you, “Baby, do you remember what we talked about last week? Did you call your therapist?”

Nodding absently into your palms, you lifted your head and haphazardly pulled off your goggles, “I saw her today, she talked to me about the same thing you did.”

You and Spencer had an in-depth discussion about the anniversary effect. “It’s okay that you were triggered by a conversation that normally wouldn’t have had such a big impact on your day,” he told you gently, squeezing your knee comfortingly.

“Stop,” you responded, dropping your hand and looking back at him, you set your goggles on the floor and took a deep, trembling breath. “Spence, I can’t—” your voice broke off in a mess of gasps, and Spencer instinctively moved closer to you.

Gingerly, Spencer lifted your chin in hopes that it would open your airway and help your breathing, “I know, baby. I’ve got you,” he reassured you, taking your hands in his when you started anxiously scratching at your forearm. “I’m right here,” he murmured, “it’s me, I’m not going anywhere.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, rubbing the pads of his thumbs over your hands as he comforted you, whispering sweet nothings to you as he waited patiently for your breathing to even out before speaking again.

“Do you need anything?” Spencer was silently offering you the same three options he always did: space, water, and medication. You had a prescription for hydroxyzine that you were supposed to take as needed, and when you very softly answered ‘pill’, Spencer let go of your hands to go get it from your backpack.

He pulled the bottle from the front pouch and grabbed your water bottle from where it sat in front of your computer, he dosed out one pill and handed it to you, watching you wash it down, closing your eyes, and leaning your head back. “How was work?” You asked.

Crouching in front of you, Spencer smoothed your hair back, “It was fine, we can talk about it later if you want. Right now, I’m focused on you,” he answered, avoiding your redirection.

You nodded in understanding, allowing Spencer to maneuver you when he helped you to your feet.

Spencer cupped your face in both of his hands, “Let’s get you home, huh? Have you eaten?” His brown eyes studied you now that they’d adjusted more to the dark, your under-eye circles looked more pronounced in the moonlight, and he wondered if you’d been sleeping. “I think there’s a bowl of soup with your name on it at home,” he whispered, taking your keys and locking the Rohypnol up in a cabinet.

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and Spencer couldn’t help but feel like that was a victory. “I’m okay,” you told him, some strength returning to your voice.

Spencer nodded, sweeping a lock of hair behind your ear, “Let’s get some food in you,” he reemphasizes. He kept your keys in his hand, you took the metro to work, so Spencer could just drive the both of you home. He looked back at the door, watching you as you slowly shut down the lab and gathered your things, “Hey, what’s your code to get into the labs?”

You frowned at him and shrugged, “1-0-2-8,” you told him, powering off your computer monitor and letting him help you pull your jacket on.

His movements faltered, and without a second thought, he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You hummed in response, reciprocating the hug after taking a deep breath. “I love you,” he whispered, tenderly rubbing your back.

“I love you too,” you responded, finally relaxing into him. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” you apologized, loosening your embrace so you could look at him.

He shook his head once, “it’s okay,” he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Just, next time—well, hopefully there isn’t a next time—answer your phone,” he said, watching you. He’d continue to keep an eye on you, but you were strong. Spencer knew, just like the others, that this storm would eventually pass.

[uglypastels]

the Special | Sanji x reader

a/n - my first One Piece fic. absolutely terrifying but definitely a needed change of scenario to get out of my writing block. please be kind; I'm taking all my inspo from the live-action as that is what I am currently the most familiar with. but, well, we just have to see how it goes. bon appetite

Shoutout to my dear @mydearzero for encouraging my newfound obsession with this show and this character, as well as generally encouraging me to write. this is all your fault. And to everyone else who had been expecting me to finally post one of the other million fics I had promised... I'm sorry

And kind reminder that reblogs is what makes tumblr work. Please, if you enjoyed the story, reblog

word count: 9.9k

warning: 18+ only. MDNI. smut. piv sex. oral sex (f!receiving). unprotected sex [wrap up your eggplants yall]. semi-public sex. several FDA regulation code breaks, probably. afab reader. swearing. little bit of angst. shitty and fat-shaming [oc!]boyfriend/date. fist fight. alcohol consumption.

“Look at your waiter's face. He knows. It's another reason to be polite to your waiter; he could save your life with a raised eyebrow or a sigh.”

― Anthony Bourdain, 

The first thing you saw was the red, bright sign spelling out the restaurant's name.

Baratie. You had no clue what it meant but could only hope that “the best restaurant in the East Blue” was somewhere down the list of its definitions, especially after the months that they had kept you on the waiting list and the tumultuous trip that it took to sail there. Next, as your ship approached, you saw the… fish head. The sight of the sculpture at the front of the ship structure buried some worry in the pit of your stomach, but surely, if so many people had given it such fond reviews, the exterior was not to speak for what awaited you inside. 

‘Believe me, baby, you’ll love it here.’

‘I really hope so,’ you smiled as you got off your boat. Your legs shook at the knee as you stepped onto the sturdy dock planks. Days at sea, which had never been your friend, had clearly done more damage than you expected. You would have been on the floor if it wasn’t for the pair of arms holding on to you.

‘Thanks, Chosi,’ you said towards your boyfriend as he helped you steadily get back onto your feet. 

‘Can’t have you faceplant the second we get here,’ he brushed some invisible dust off your shoulder, and with his arm entwined with yours, he led you to the entrance of the establishment. You grabbed at the skirt of your dress to keep it down as the wind blew by.

As you walked, you looked at all the other ships harboured on the… was this an island? Was the entirety just one large ship? Was it anchored to something then, or was it drifting around the seas constantly? You couldn’t quite comprehend the logistics of it all. But you could tell that humans and other creatures of all walks of life–royalty, commoners, marines, pirates—were unbothered by each other's presence and enjoying the outing. Once inside, the shushed sound of the waves was exchanged for a whisper of swing music, as well as the chatter of the restaurant’s patrons and the clinking of their cutlery on plates. The walls were lined in crimson wallpaper as well as painted depictions of sea battles, accented in gold and bronze details matching the furniture placed spaciously around the room and the two stories above it that lead the eye to a beautiful aquamarine ceiling that gave the illusion as if one was looking up at the bright sky from underwater. 

The maitre’d, a Fishman, stood to attention at your entrance. 

‘Good afternoon, how may I help you?’ he asked kindly. 

‘We have a reservation. Name is Chosi,’ Chosi stated with his head held high. Despite you doubting that anyone knew his name in these parts of the world, he never ceased to pronounce it with a level of expectation to it. It was commendable, as well as disappointing, when nothing happened afterwards. The maitre’d simply nodded and glanced down at his long list of names, searching for the one he had just heard, ready to cross it off.

 ‘Ah, yes, right here. Please, do follow me to your table.’ And so, you did just that, walking down the grand staircase onto the restaurant's main floor, where you seated at one of the smaller tables, perfect for a romantic dinner for two. ‘Your waiter will be right with you.’ The Fishman bid you farewell just like that and returned to his position at the door. 

‘So?’ Chosi looked at you with a raised brow as you looked around.

‘It is quite stunning.’ You must admit that you did not expect this kind of splendour when looking at the carved fish that gaped at you outside. Something about that just did not exude the same essence as the timeless and classy beauty of the interior. You barely even felt the shake of the waves beneath you. 

Maybe your response wasn’t sufficient, for Chosi had opened his mouth to respond, something in the angles of his face announcing displeasure, but he was interrupted by a new presence at your table. You looked up at the tall figure towering over you. 

‘Welcome,’ the man spoke, his accent clearly indicating his origin if only you had been aware of where that was. Simultaneously, he put down a plate of bread rolls, perfectly and meticulously positioned atop it. ‘...to Baratie. My name is Sanji; I will be your waiter this afternoon.’

‘Took you long enough.’ Chosi mumbled under his breath, giving you an immense urge to kick him underneath the table, but you knew better than to do that, especially when he did not seem to be ready to stop any time soon. ‘Trying to convince my girl this place is worth visiting, heh.’ You could feel your cheeks burning up in embarrassment. Nevertheless, the waiter—Sanji, he said was his name—did not seem to give the comment much thought as he looked down at you with a curve to his thin-lined lips.

‘My apologies, madame; I hope my service will not give you the false impression of this establishment being worth any of your precious time.’ The smoothness of his voice almost concealed the true meaning behind his speech, leaving you, as well as your date, speechless. However, you felt your speaking ability to be taken away by more than just his words as you spared a second to take your waiter in properly. You just could not help but notice how his suit wrapped around his arms, and although one was covered by his blonde hair, his eyes had a glint of something that excited you despite not even knowing the root of that excitement. 

Like nothing had happened, Sanji continued, ‘Would you care to see the menu? Hear the specials?’ That is when you noticed the menu cards he was holding in his hand. And he must have been ready to list the special items, but Chosi was a step ahead. 

‘Actually, I think we are ready to order.’ That was the first you had heard of it, but you stayed put as he continued. After all, Chosi had eaten here before. He knew what was good, and you could trust his judgement. 

‘Prime rib, medium rare,’ as your boyfriend spoke, you kept your eye on the waiter, noticing the appearance of the smallest of flinches in his face at the sound of the dish, but never faltering his picture-perfect appearance, ‘and my lady will have the salad.’

Another twitch, right below his visible eyes, followed, but Sanji’s professional facade stayed on as he inquired: ‘We offer quite a variety of salads; which would madame prefer?’ And with that, he turned to you, that smile plastered on like a sticker, but he had trouble keeping it on as the answer to his question did not come from your mouth.

‘Whichever is the best, of course.’ Chosi rolled his eyes, and you wished you could do so as well. The waiter glanced between you and him, turning back to you momentarily. Long enough for you to give him a reassuring smile. It would be in everyone’s best interest if he just moved on from the matter. 

‘Drinks, then,’ Sanji again spoke with an unphased essence about him, as if nothing from the past few minutes had ever occurred, or at least tried to emulate this. ‘Madam, anything I can get you?’ The way he emphasised that word didn’t require any pointed glares. 

‘Uhm,’ you hesitated as he kept his full attention on you, completely ignoring the man sitting opposite you at the table, making Chosi stare at you just as, if not more, intensely, for all the opposite reasons. Out of panic, you just blurted out the most straightforward order. ‘Just water, thank you.’ It being the first words you said in the waiter's presence, they came out soft. Nothing like your regular voice, which startled you slightly. 

‘Still, sparkling or mineral?’ Sanji pursued. 

‘Still please,’ you smiled shyly, unsure where that actual shyness derived from. 

‘Ice? Cubed or crushed?’ He fired the questions at a rapid pace.

‘A bit of ice is fine. Thank you,’ you repeated yourself, looking down at the table and letting the waiter move on to the rest of the order. He didn’t say anything else but looked at Chosi with anticipation. 

‘I’ll have your finest brew.’

‘Coming up,’ his voice had a sudden coldness to it as he walked away, back to the kitchen, leaving the table to a thick silence. 

‘I could have ordered for myself, you know,’ you said, with that same soft tone you had spoken with earlier, although this felt much more familiar seeing who you talked to. 

 ‘And have you stuff yourself with some useless carbs? C’mon, you know I’m just looking out for you, here.’ 

‘I know.’ You straightened out a fork in front of you, suddenly feeling uneasy at how far away from the plate it was positioned compared to the knife on the opposite side. You were straightening out a crease in the tablecloth when Sanji returned with a silver tray in one hand. He placed the pint glass full of golden brew in front of Chosi before turning your way and setting a glass beside your plate. With a pair of tongs, one by one, he let ice cubes fall to the bottom of it, the clinking against the glass almost deafening. Then, he followed up with another pair of tongs and reached for a little tray but stopped himself to ask you: ‘Care for a slice of lemon, madame?’

‘Oh, uhm, sure,’ you shrugged, unable to look away. This process of pouring a glass of water felt rather extensive, but you could not deny the fact you were enjoying it all. As he grabbed the large pitcher to pour the water, you were unsure how he had carried all of these items with one hand and did so seemingly effortlessly.

‘There we go,’ he smiled, ‘your food will be with you shortly, but do let me know if you require anything else.’ And just like that, he was gone again, but not without leaving you feeling that he had meant his parting words especially for you and that that sentiment had undoubtedly not escaped your date.

‘I don’t like the look of that guy.’ Chosi glared at you as he took a sip from his pint, slurping up the top layer of foam with it. 

‘I think he’s quite sweet.’ You straightened out the fork again and reached for a bread roll to tear it apart piece by piece. 

‘Of course you would,’ he rolled his eyes, which made you look up from your little snack.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ You put the bread roll down as the pit in your stomach hollowed out your appetite. Right, making space for that damn salad.

‘Nothing.’ Chosi shrugged, ‘Just that it's typical that somehow I’m the only one to notice when some guy is trying to cop a feel.’

‘He was doing no such thing.’ You had to bite your tongue not to raise your voice as his insinuation, despite being on the waiter's actions, seemed to be brutally judging yourself. ‘The poor guy is just doing his job. I’m not bothered by it, and neither should you be.’ Usually, you would attach some sweet nickname at the end of that sentence, but this was one too many times you had said a variant of the confirmation, and you were growing tired of just the thought of it.

Somewhere in the distance, a table erupted into a shouting match that had to be broken up by a handful of waiters. While usually, you turned away from such brutalities, never having been fond of violence and not particularly having a necessity in seeing people getting their teeth punched out minutes before eating a meal, this time you stretched your neck out to glance across the room, secretly hoping to catch a glimpse of the white-blonde hair among the rousing heads. Someone had pulled a pistol, but the weapon was kicked out of the man's grip before they could shoot or even alarm people enough to hide beneath their tables. Just like that, the restaurant resumed its normal state of pleasantries, and you got back to your abysmal date and hoped it was still worth saving… or that saving was still even an option to begin with. 

‘From what you had told me about the place, Chi, it is much grander than I had expected.’ You smiled, and he nodded to your affirmations.

‘Well, I didn’t want to raise the expectations too high, but you know I don’t do anything but the best for you, sweet cheeks.’

‘Of course—’ you were interrupted by the footsteps nearing your table, and the weight nearly lifted off your shoulders at the sight of Sanji carrying too large plates. 

‘Hello there,’ he grinned slyly, ‘hope I don’t interrupt anythin’.’ 

‘Not at all,’ You moved your glass aside to make space for your dish, but Sanji put Chosi’s plate down first, announcing the food.

‘Prime rib, medium rare, for the gentleman.’ Like everything else, he precisely placed it so the gold details on the plate faced the diner exactly right. The roast glistened in the restaurant's dim light, and the smell hit you right at the nerves that reminded you of your hunger. But that was for the gentleman, and the gentleman had ordered for you the—

‘And for the madame,’ Sanji put a plate in front of you, ‘what I like to call the Sanji Special.’

You looked down at your plate of food with a stunned expression and then looked back up. Just in time, you caught the slight wink that your waiter had sent you before stepping back to then, with a nod, say, ‘Bon appetite.’ 

He got to take about three steps and had just turned his back towards your table when Chosi called out to him, clearing his throat. ‘Ehem, excuse me, Sonny.’ 

‘Is there a problem?’ Sanji returned with his hands behind his back, but you didn’t need to see his fists to know he was clenching them. It was all visible in the strain of his upper arms and jaw as he restrained himself to keep up a polite smile. 

‘I am pretty sure we had ordered a salad?’ Chosi tried to play it off with a casual laugh, but it turned out to be anything but. Sanji leaned forward to grab the plate, but then your boyfriend exclaimed, ‘No, not for me; for her.’ before the waiter got his hand on his prime rib.

With a satisfied smile, Sanji glanced at your plate and stated: ‘That is a salad.’

Not that you did not appreciate what was in front of you, but if it was a salad, it was the loosest interpretation of the definition possible. You had to keep your laugh in as he explained that the dish was a “twist on kensui salad with steamed components, egg, and pork” or, in your simpler terms… the most delicious-looking pot of ramen you had ever encountered in your life, but no, definitely not a salad in the traditional sense. You smiled at the food, not daring to look up at Sanji while your boyfriend’s head seemed to be boiling alive, but the waiter was a step ahead of you. 

‘Ah, almost forgot, for the lady,’ almost out of nowhere, he made a pair of chopsticks appear for you. 

‘She will not be eating that,’ Chosi grunted. 

‘I think that is for her to decide,’ Sanji didn’t even bother to look at him, keeping his sweet smile on you, which, in turn, rushed a hot flush over your cheeks. 

‘Chosi, don’t be like that; this looks delicious.’ You spoke, hoping he would calm down and let you finally sink your teeth into this gorgeous meal. After a tense second, Chosi finally huffed out and sank back down in his chair, making you realise he had been on the verge of getting up for whatever reason. Either way, his intentions could not have been good. In the meantime, Sanji excused himself once more to finally leave you to eat. 

You had perhaps taken half a bite when Chosi, his food untouched, spoke up again. ‘Why do you always do this?’

‘Do what?’ your throat tightened around the pork you had just swallowed.

‘Embarrass me like that?’ He sighed, a vein in his forehead looking more prominent than ever.

‘I didn’t—’

‘Cut the shit, you know what you’re doing.’ Chosi slammed his fist on the table, startling you and the few people sitting at the nearest tables to you.

‘Please, can we not do this now,’ you kept your head down, ignoring all the pairs of eyes that must have started catching on to what was happening. Chosi had turned red from anger by that point. 

‘What, am I being too much for you? Imagine what it’s like going out with a slut—’

‘Chosi!’ you snapped, immediately covering your face with your hand as if you had not meant to shout and grab the attention of even more people. 

Deep breath in. 

Out. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ You hissed at the man across the table from you. 

‘With me? You’re the one that has been eyefucking the waiter this whole time, and now you disrespected me like that in front of him? Do I mean so little to you?’

‘I did no such thing.’ You rolled your eyes, catching glimpses of the room you were in. The people that sat around, the employees. Of course, Sanji stood only a few tables away, taking an order. Could he hear what was happening? Most likely, the idea of that burned you in a new, much more unpleasant manner. Chosi must have said something, but you had been too occupied by your surroundings and too tired to even listen to what other vile things he had to tell you. The only thing that kept you at that table was the food, but no matter how good, it wasn’t worth enduring him. ‘You know what,’ you grabbed your napkin and slapped it onto the table, ‘I can’t do this right now. I’ll see you on the boat.’ The chair shrieked as you shoved it back.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going,’ Chosi growled practically, and despite you having already turned your back to him, you heard his own chair scrape the deck floor. You had your eyes squeezed shut as you got ready for what was coming. He reached out, but nothing happened. 

You looked over your shoulder to see Sanji pulling Chosi in by the sleeve. 

‘Believe me, we don’t wanna do that, mate.’ Sanji said, his eyes filled with a new rage that made you take a step back.

‘Let go of me, you sleaze.’ Chosi suddenly reminded you of a feral kitten, how he tried to wriggle himself out of the waiter’s grip. ‘I’ll make you regret ever touching me. Do you know who I am?’

‘Do I look like I give a shit?’ he let go with a laugh, almost pushing Chosi to the ground. As your date dusted off his sleeves, Sanji took a step forward, pressing himself against him. Now that both men were standing face to face, did you only realise how much taller Sanji was than your boyfriend. How much bigger and, most likely, how much stronger. With a hushed and reserved tone yet somehow full of intimidation, the waiter said, ‘Don’t you ever try to touch or speak to a woman like that again, you hear me? Or I’ll make you regret you were ever born.’ 

Chosi could only nod with his eyes blown wide open. The restaurant was dead quiet, unable to pull their eyes away from the scene unfolding before them. No one said anything or moved, and yet, somewhere, a stack of plates fell. The crash of porcelain echoed through the space, and Sanji turned his attention toward the kitchen’s double doors for a second. That quick moment was enough for Chosi to find his moment and attack.

Or at least make an attempt at it. 

Sanji was still looking toward the kitchen, and Chosi’s fist was in mid-air, but the waiter flawlessly manoeuvred around it, swinging himself back and letting Chosi fall forward. To make matters worse, Sanji supplemented the fall by kicking him over. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend’s chin had smacked against the table, you would have missed the entire thing, as Sanji’s movements were so elegant that it seemed as if he had not moved at all. He might as well have been refilling your water, ignorant of the groaning mess of a man he had kicked down to the ground with such ease. 

Chosi got up shakily. A nasty cut was already dripping blood from the underside of his face, but the redness didn’t compare to the rage on his face. He looked around until his eyes caught yours. ‘What, you’re just gonna stand there like some dumb–’

‘What did I just say?’ Sanji said, this time much louder, not trying to hide the row from the rest of the diners. But before he could make another move, Chosi reached for the nearest thing he could reach, which in his case was your dish of ramen, and threw a fistful of noodles Sanji’s way, hitting him square in the chest. 

Silence. 

He must have been too stunned at the audacious strike to move out of the way for it. Everyone must have been watching the noodles unstick from his navy jacket and slowly fall to the ground, then watched as Sanji raised his head back up, his expression unamused and cold, but his eyes filled with a passionate and furious fire. One that was enough to live up to the promise he had made the man you had come to the restaurant with. And so, just like that, without another word needing to be said by anyone, you watched Chosi back away—one, two, three steps, whimpering and mumbling some comments that could almost make up an apology, before he sprinted up the stairs to the exit. 

‘Ridiculous,’ you heard Sanji mutter under his breath. ‘Fucking waste of food.’

Before you could think any better about it, you walked up and knelt down, as he did, to reach for the spilt noodles. ‘I am so sorry,’ you started apologising. ‘I swear normally he–’

  ‘Is exactly like that,’ Sanji chuckled with a rasp. You looked up at him, a bit dumbfounded. He had managed to scoop most of the food before you had and was already getting up. ‘You have nothing to apologise for.’ One of his colleagues had been quick with bringing over cleaning supplies. ‘If anything, I should be the one saying sorry. Let me make it up to you—a drink in the bar, on the house.’

‘No, that is really not necessary.’ You couldn’t accept anything for free after your boyfriend pulled off such a scene and… had run off without paying. The realisation hit you like a brick on the head as you cursed under your breath with a strong sense of panic, which Sanji caught on to immediately. 

‘Please,’ He reached gently for your arm. ‘I insist.’

You stuttered for a moment before actually answering in defeated agreement. With a satisfied smile, Sanji led you to another exit, leading to the bar deck. ‘Right this way, madame.’

The bar deck, located in the mouth of that giant fish head, was moderately empty. Except for you and the appointed barman behind the counter, only a handful of others were sprinkled across the couches and futons. You chose a seat overlooking the sea and the setting sun that coloured the sky and waters an array of warm colours. 

You understood that you had to go up to the bar to order, but you felt no particular need for it, just enjoying the breeze that brought over the calm sea air towards you. 

It was unclear how much time you spent sitting out there, looking at the waves splashing by and the clouds above you and the people around you. Only once the sun had set entirely, darkening the sky completely, and most people had left the area, you decide to finally walk up to the bartender and place an order. The man nodded and proceeded to make your drink with only a few attached flourishes to the craft, but the result was charming and tasted delicious.

‘I hope I had made it clear that that was one drink on the house,’ you heard from behind you. 

‘Don’t worry, this is my first.’ You said, turning around to see Sanji standing behind you. 

‘You might just be the slowest drinker I have ever met,’ he said as he took the spot by your side.

‘Jeez, do your manners flush away the second you’re off the clock?’ You smiled, taking a sip of your drink, most likely also proving Sanji his point as the sip you took was particularly small. 

‘For what it’s worth, madame, I was about to tell you that your bill has been taken care of.’ He leaned against the bar countertop with his forearms. ‘But I will make myself scarce now.’

‘No, wait,’ you stopped him before he could push himself back. ‘What do you mean it was– I would have happily paid. At least let me leave a tip.’ You were ready to pull out your purse when he took his turn to halt your movements. 

‘I will not be accepting any tips for my service today. And honestly, you barely had a meal to eat, let alone to pay for. It is all taken care of. I promise.’

You looked up at him apprehensively, but something about his–not necessarily laidback–but how he was so comfortable with the situation put you at ease, too. But something was gnawing at your conscience. 

‘Alright then, but I disagree with the review of your service. You most certainly need something for it in return.’ How could you repay the man who had just gotten you out of your horrific relationship? You doubted anything in the world could match your actual gratefulness. Although, maybe the smile that pulled at Sanji’s lips said something different.

‘Let me cook for you.’

‘What?’ You blinked slowly, making him smile even wider.

‘You haven’t eaten anything proper in hours. Let me make you something in the kitchen–an exclusive guest experience.’

‘That doesn’t sound much like a gratuity for you.’ You pointed out, but he did not seem to mind.

‘Indulge me,’ was all he responded with. Feeling giddy at the prospect, you glanced over at the bartender, who was definitely listening in on the conversation. Understanding what you meant with your look, he simply shrugged while wiping the glasses. 

‘Ok then.’ This entire thing felt utterly ridiculous, and you didn’t hide the amusement you felt from it as Sanji opened the door to the kitchen for you. That is when your smile lightly faltered, only to be replaced with a fallen jaw as you looked around in amazement. Like the dining area, this room had a high ceiling but wasn’t decorated as much as simply visually enhanced by all the bronze pots and pans hanging around, and the pipes leading from the ovens and stoves up to the chimneys. There were long lines of prep stations, behind which one Sanji comfortably made himself at home as he immediately got started on something.

The first few minutes, after you watched him exchange his suit jacket for a white chef’s uniform, you were occupied with the kitchen itself, but once you had gotten used to the environment, you wondered where you could make yourself equally comfortable as not a nuisance to him as he cooked. 

‘Make yourself at home, sweetheart,’ he said while chopping some ingredients at a speed that made your heart skip a beat in fear. Or did that come from the new nickname that caught you by surprise? 

‘What happened to “madame”?’ you walked closer to his station. Sanji just looked up briefly, eye covered by his hair but his smile evermore present. Your smile lasted longer as you forgot you had meant to look at what he was doing, not to stare at him. Noticing he was not planning on answering your question, you asked another. ‘So, what exactly are you making?’

‘Since I’m sure dinner did not turn out entirely as you had planned, I thought maybe dessert would be a good pick-me-up. Rose and chocolate meringue tartes, how does that sound?’

  ‘Makes me wonder what I did to deserve it,’ you laugh it off while speaking the question that had been on your mind this whole time. 

‘I like to show a lady how she’s meant to be treated,’ he said as he poured several ingredients into a glass bowl and began wicking at a pace that should have stopped him from looking so effortless long ago. ‘It’s all part of the special package deal.’

‘Right, the Sanji Special, was it?’ You looked around at the countertop next to him, which seemed free from ingredients and anything you could set on fire. You glanced his way, and he swiftly nodded your way. With that permission in mind, you pushed yourself up on the counter, swinging your legs lightly back and forth. ‘So what exactly does this special indicate?’

‘A nice meal, a little surprise, a few kind words, nothing too crazy. I would like to think that, with it, I have perfected the recipe on how to eliminate shitbag boyfriends like that prince charming you came here with.’

‘My knight in shining armour.’ You rolled your eyes, hiding how much you appreciated all his actions from that day. ‘Must have worked on quite a few girls then?’

‘Can’t say it has,’ he said as he pushed the oven open to prebake a few tartelette frames. The speed at which he worked truly was otherworldly. 

‘Can’t because of a bad success rate or because you hadn’t actually tried it before?’

He appeared next to you from beside the oven; tiny droplets of sweat were forming at his temple, but his energy was still burning like the fire under the pot where he was melting the chocolate. ‘Let's say the latter. For both our dignity’s sake.’ It did not come as a surprise to you that he was a flirt and most likely tried these tricks out on the entirety of the female clientele, and yet, for reasons unknown, you did not mind one bit, and it still did not seize to make the smallest of his advances work on you with tremendous effect. 

‘Don’t think I have much more of that left after  everything that happened out there.’ You cringed at the memory of the shouting, the mess, and just how many people had been sitting there watching you. 

‘There’s been much worse out there, believe me.’ Sanji lowered the fire under the pan lightly.

‘I hardly believe that. He threw noodles at you. That is absolutely revolting behaviour.’ And somehow, you managed not to get kicked out of the restaurant along with Chosi but even got to hang out in the kitchen after hours as a special dessert was being prepared for you… by the waiter that your boyfriend had tried to assault— no, that your ex-boyfriend tried to assault. That felt much better, but still didn’t let the whole situation make any more sense.

‘And that wouldn’t even make the top ten of shit that’s happened around this place.’

‘I… am not sure wether to be relieved or disappointed.’ For an inexplicable reason, you thought you would be more memorable to him. However, would you have wanted that, seeing the actual circumstances under which that would be? Ugh.

As if he could read your mind, Sanji added in. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not planning on forgetting you anytime soon.’

‘I bet you say that to everyone.’ You rolled your eyes, to which he just smiled. ‘But really, I am sorry for what happened—especially to your suit.’

‘I care more about the noodles, honestly, don’t like seeing food go to waste—’ he drifted off with his thoughts before coming back up to the surface with another question, ‘speaking of noodles, where’d you meet this guy anyway?’

‘It’s complicated,’ you sighed, not wanting to burden him with your story, but from the eager attitude he was conveying as he managed his ingredients, he did not hold the same sentiment over it. ‘We had been friends for ages—out dads worked together—and it seemed, to everyone, apparently, like the natural progression of events that we would end up together.’

‘Everyone… except for you?’ he assumed, looking up at you from the counter space.

‘No, I mean, at first I thought so too, but over time… well, you saw it yourself. But by the time I had realised what a mess I had gotten myself into, it felt like I was already too late.’

‘How so?’ You heard the gentleness in his question like he was treading the topic lightly, not wanting to put any pressure on it or on you to answer. 

‘Heard people talking he had been planning to propose.’ You shrugged it off. ‘But I doubt that will be happening anymore.’

‘What are you going to do now?’ The question came with that same carefulness but perhaps a bit more intrigue. You simply shrugged again.

‘Will probably have to find another ship to get back home on, as I can’t imagine he would want me on board with him.’ It was crazy you had not bothered to check but assumed that he had already taken off hours ago, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. ‘And then, if I see him again… well, not much else I can do but officially dump his ass.’

‘So I shouldn’t feel bad for what I did?’ He stopped what he was doing as he waited for an answer.

‘Absolutely not. I can’t thank you enough for doing that.’ 

The both of you shared sheepish smiles before you watched him work silently for a few more minutes. The tarte frames came out of the oven in a beautifully crisp golden tone, and he mixed the chocolate into a thick mousse while the rosy syrup lay back to cool off. While the two of you remained quiet, the kitchen was anything but that as his utensils clinked around the pans. You thought back to a few hours ago and how the silence at your table had been anything but this. You had sat in a cold dread, waiting for something to snap until it inevitably did. However, you sat back comfortably here, happily watching as Sanji focused on his work. 

It really was his element. While you thought the man had been exemplary at waiting tables, it was nothing compared to the ease at which he performed here. Each move he made seemed like second nature to him. 

‘Do all the waiters here know how to cook like this?’ you inquired, leaning in to see how he filled the pastries up, hands in a tight grip on the piping bag. 

‘The ones that are cooks do,’ he chuckled. 

‘You’re a cook?’ you blinked, ‘then what were you doing out there earlier?’ 

‘Ah, the old shitbag that runs this place likes to torture me and send me off to do the waitin’.’ He readjusted his hold on the piping bag, briefly stopping to wipe his hand on the towel tucked between his belt. 

‘Doesn’t that bother you? I’m sure you’d much rather work here.’ You certainly would. Some people could be real assholes to serve… your former date being a prime example. But Sanji simply laughed it off.

‘Nah, not when beautiful women are out there waiting to be served.’ He stopped to look up at you with a shit-eating grin, and the unseriousness dripping off of it made you blush, smile along with him and push him back by his shoulder before you would do something else much more irrational. Perhaps a bit too hard, as he lost his balance, only finding it on the counter, exactly where the piping bag had been left behind. His palm fell right over the ending, bursting out the mousse in an unfortunate mess, spilling all over him and the counter.

‘Oh no,’ you said, covering your mouth but not the giggles from it, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You think it’s funny, don’t you?’ He couldn’t keep his smile, but you shook your head harshly. ‘You’ll pay for this,’ he pointed his hand, covered in chocolate, at you. Several thoughts ran through your mind initially, but you managed to suppress most of them, opting for simply running your finger over the back of his hand where most of the mousse had spilt and giving it a taste. 

‘That is really good.’ you hummed at the sweetness. Sanji stood back, somewhat frozen at what you had done, but quickly thawed out with a few blinks.

‘Well, what else did you expect?’ He wiped the rest of his hand on the towel at his side, ‘and I’ll have you know it’s rude to eat the food before it’s done. Takes away from the experience.’

‘I’m sorry,’ you pouted, ‘but I promise you I am still very much enjoying this whole experience.’

‘You better.’ Sanji said, taking the baking tray and putting it back in the oven for the last few minutes. With the oven door shut, he sighed and leaned against the counter opposite you. ‘Now we wait.’

‘How long exactly?’

‘In a rush, are we?’ He glanced at you from behind his hair, and the question made you heat up in the face. Because how could you explain to this practical stranger that you were feeling the opposite of what he insinuated. That you did not want this night to end at all. That being here with him, even if you were just waiting for a damn tart to bake, you were having more fun than you had had in weeks, if not longer. So, all you did was simply shake your head again. 

‘It will be just a few minutes, and then gotta let it cool for a bit.’ He reassured you. That is when you noticed the bowl he had mixed the mousse in, mostly scraped clean while filling up the piping bag, but even the best chef can’t always scrape every last ounce out. Now, you might not have had any particular urge to leave any time soon, but you certainly were hungry, and having tasted just how delicious Sanji’s food was, you couldn’t help but lean in to get another little taste. 

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ He said, bemused, reaching to stop you from taking another swipe of mousse onto your finger. His hand gently grabbed your wrist, but he had been too late. When he caught you, you had your hand directly over your lips, looking up at him. He glared down at you in a daring manner. 

You licked the chocolate off yourself as innocently as possible without bursting into laughter. 

‘I can’t believe you’d do that.’ He took a step forward, nearly closing the gap between you. The presence of his body, so close to yours, almost touching, reverberated off of you with warmth, and suddenly, you felt the breath you had taken to be stuck in the back of your throat. ‘Did you not listen to anything I just said?’ His breath was hot against your skin, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought it was a direct source of the skip in your heart. 

‘Of course I did.’ You ignored the fast beating of your heart and the feeling like it might just burst out of your chest as you took him by the arm to give you some space and let you slide down the counter back onto your feet. ‘Something about experience and…’ you slid out from between him and the counter, and as you did so, swooped by the bowl of mousse with your finger one last time. ‘I forgot what else.’

‘You are unbelievable,’ Sanji reached for your hand, but you were quicker and manoeuvred around him and from his arm’s reach. Taunting him with the mousse, you walked around the work counters, and he, happily playing along, followed suit. 

Like children, you ran around the kitchen, with him not far behind you, trying to catch you until he finally did, picking you up by the waist. Unintentionally, a squeak of a shriek came out of you, followed by both your laughs. You kept on laughing until you heard something outside the door. Heavy footsteps, freezing you both in your place until they moved on by. That is when you noted the time. Hours past midnight.

‘Are we even allowed to be in here at this time?’ You whispered as if the person who had walked by would suddenly be able to hear you.

‘Of course,’ Sanji said with confidence, but his expression juxtaposed this with signs that you could only read as “absolutely fucking not.” chances were that if you were caught in the kitchen at this time of night, you would be shot on the spot by, what did Sanji call him, the old shitbag.

But before you could run away in fear of getting caught, it was Sanji’s turn to take you by surprise. As you stood in his arms, he leaned in and wrapped his mouth around your finger, sucking all the chocolate right off. You could feel his tongue move down your knuckles and back up until he released it, leaving you stunned and wide-eyed. 

‘I thought it’s rude to eat a dish before it’s done,’ you managed to sputter out. 

‘So you did listen,’ he smiled, ‘but you might want to know that a good cook always tastes their dishes in the process, and that… was delicious.’

‘Are you always this humble about your cooking?’ Your heart was basically in your throat at this moment.

‘Wasn’t talking about the food,’ his tone was deep, sultry, as he leaned closer. ‘But care to give me another taste?’

Your breath was officially hitched in your throat, unable to breathe properly, as you stared at him, body flooding with heat and need for him. As words escaped you, you nodded lightly and leaned in as he did the same, meeting your lips in the middle with a kiss.

As soon as it happened, his arms found their spot on your side as you fastened yourself on his shoulders. It was nothing like you expected it to be. For a man spending his entire nights and days in the kitchen, he felt nothing like it. You could smell the cologne, taste the cigarettes and the fresh mint he used to conceal the former. His tender but firm touch held you in your place as he pressed closer.

There was a force to it, but nothing that you didn’t feel in yourself to copy as the need for him boiled deep inside you. 

Your hand moved slowly up to his cheek, over to his hair at the nape of his neck.

One of his hands, in the meantime, had found your thigh, pulling it up over his leg as he squeezed your soft flesh, but before giving you a chance to even react to this new position and all its implications, Sanji moved.

Pulling apart, leaving your lips to be the last piece he detached from as he kept your bottom lip between his teeth lightly, he apologised, ‘Excuse me for a moment.’ because while you might have forgotten all about the world around you, he had still been keeping track of the tartelettes that were baking down in the oven. 

He pulled the tray of pastries out with a white tea towel, practically throwing it down on the counter, discarding it with a metal clang.

‘Now we wait for them to cool,’ he explained as he got back to you.

‘And what were you planning on doing in the meantime,’ you pulled him back in by the blue ascot tie. 

With his lips ghosting over yours, he half-whispered, ‘I might have a few things in mind,’ and with it, kissed you again. While the kiss itself was not much different, with that same intensity and passion running through both of you as before, now you were very much aware of what was to follow. If it wasn’t your need that spurred you on, then it was Sanji and his eagerness. Despite his chef’s uniform and the navy apron, you could feel him grow harder against you as the kiss continued. A moan escaped you as his lips travelled down to your neck, leaving sloppy kisses one by one until he reached a spot that was more sensitive than others. The simple touch sparked a fuse inside you.

As he continued playing with your sensitive skin, he led both your bodies to one of the empty tables at the side of the room, pressing you right against the edge and locking you in between it and him.

Without needing him to say a word, you understood exactly what you needed to do and climbed on top of the table, spreading your legs to make space for him right in the middle. 

Your dress might have hiked up slightly over your thighs, but it wasn’t enough for Sanji, who took it upon himself to pull it up. 

‘I hope you don’t mind me saying’,’ he smiled as he kissed the corner of your mouth and as his hand reached the top of your leg, ‘but I had been thinkin' about this ever since I saw you.’

‘Me too,’ you exhaled deeply, letting the confession sink in. Maybe Chosi was right after all. Now, with him out of the picture, you could admit that something had been there from the start, from the moment you caught a glimpse of the waiter cook. And if it wasn’t for all the shit that occurred that day, maybe you would have felt a twinge of guilt as you guided Sanji’s hand between your legs. If you had not shut that chapter behind you, perhaps you would have felt bad, but any insecurities of that disappeared as Sanji began to toy with your core. His slender fingers grazed slowly over your slit, putting enough pressure on it to make you arch your back in need of more. 

‘Already so needy,’ he smirked. ‘And I barely touched you.’

‘Touch me then,’ you said with gritted teeth.

‘Don’t need to tell me twice.’ His fingers moved up in pace and barely went any deeper, keeping you on the edge of satisfaction. ‘And what would madame like me to do?’ He threaded his movements, and you were growing impatient with the teasing.

‘Fuck me,’ ready to hear his next question, you added, ‘I don’t care how.’

His grin only grew wider at your words. Much to your dislike, he pulled his hand away to place both at your thighs, pressing his fingers into your skin and using that as leverage to make more space for himself in between.

‘As madame wishes.’ He spoke softly right below your ear as he descended onto his knees. 

The kiss he left over your panties already invoked a tremble through your entire body, and it only got worse from there, in the best sense. He pushed your underwear aside and took his time giving you all his attention and care. Kissing your core deeply until his nose pressed up against you. His tongue licked up your juices like a starving man until your eyes rolled back, and you felt weak. 

The table you were perched on was empty, so you only had Sanji to hold on to. At first, you reached for his shoulder, but it was just not high enough for you to find support. As you tried to look for it, Sanji reached for your hand and brought it up to the side of his head for you to tangle your fingers in his light locks. Before you even managed to grab onto them, simply letting your nails trace over his hair, you felt the vibrations of his moans strike you. Another deep blow to your senses pulled you further down to the edge. Closer and closer until you couldn’t take it anymore. Your grip on his hair tightened as your breath grew sporadic. 

‘Fuck, fuck,’ you moaned, voice filled with desperation for a release, and one that Sanji would be more than pleased to give you… just not quite yet. As he pulled away from you, you deflated with the feeling of a ruined climax and the urge to pull him back to finish what he had started, but all you could do was whimper in protest. 

‘Don’t worry,’ he kissed your knee softly, ‘all in good time. I promise to take good care of you,’ and with that, he rose back up to his feet, untying his apron.

‘That was good,’ your chest still moving up and down heavily as you caught your breath. ‘Really good.’

‘It pleases me to hear that,’  he said as he threw the apron aside onto the ground. ‘And believe me, I would love to go back for seconds—’

‘Does all your pillow talk stem from restaurant jargon?’ you interrupted jokingly. 

‘You laugh, and yet you’re the one begging me to fuck you.’ God, he was so cocky, with the way he stood there in front of you, his head tilted sideways, and his lip turned up in a grin that told you he knew he was right. ‘So, please, let me.’ His hand was already on his belt buckle. 

There was no time or need for either of you to undress. With your dress hiked up to your hips, he already had easy enough access, and once his belt was loose, it only took a few sharp pulls for you to release him from the material restraints. 

‘You ready?’ he asked.

‘For the love of god,’ grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him in, ‘stop talking and just take me.’ You knew he was about to respond, but before he got the chance to make another absurdly silly but nonetheless flirtatious comment, you shit him up with a kiss. Just like that, the two of you melted into one another. Sanji made himself comfortable between you and let his lips wander down to your neck again, to that one spot he found that drove you crazy. 

He kept kissing your neck as he finally slid into you. The two feelings made your body go weak, melting you into a puddle of burning nerves as he spread your walls and filled you up perfectly. 

First, he moved slowly, but with each thrust, he sped up more and more, putting more force into it until you were both shaking with ferocity, and the table underneath you scratched over the planks it stood upon. The sound of the tortured floor was the only thing covering up both your moans and that of the messy skin-to-skin contact. 

While he practically pounded into you, you reached for his hair again. There was just something about it: how messy you managed to make it with a few tugs and brushstrokes. All of it, how he acted and reacted, it was all in response to you. Just how he made you see stars with each move he made. 

‘Feels so good, fuck,’ he groaned over your shoulder as you grabbed for his, pulling him closer if possible. He had your legs pressed against his sides. He shook his head quickly, letting the hair flick out of his sight, but the attempt was poor as the lock quickly fell back over his eye despite his efforts. 

‘San–’ you moaned, ‘Sanji–’ 

‘That’s right,’ he might as well have been kissing you, so close were his lips to you, but instead, the only thing you truly felt was his hot breath on your skin as he kept going deeper and harder. ‘Gonna come for me? His voice got even deeper the longer he kept going. At the sound of it, your nails dug into his back, his striped shirt being the only thing saving him from possibly some nasty scratches, but it seemed to only spur him on more. ‘I–’ you gasped out as you felt him hit the deepest part of you.

‘Yeah?’ 

‘I’m close, fuck.’ the pit in your stomach tightened, your muscles strained as you tried to hold on to that feeling of pleasure he brought over you. The tension built up like a band being pulled tighter and tighter, ready to snap at any moment; he had you in his grip, waiting to let go of you at the exact right time. All you needed was that touch, just the right one in the right spot. 

You could feel it all. Could feel just how close he was himself as his thrusts got sloppier, and his breathing grew heavier and rougher between his words. ‘Yeah, c’mon. I know you can do it. Come all over my cock. ‘’s gonna feel so good, I promise you.’

The encouragement might not have been necessarily what did it. It was more like a concoction of things that all led to this precise moment when ecstasy overtook your body and washed over you like a hot flash. Sanji was not far behind you, riding his high as he ensured you got to yours. His movements slowed down as you felt the cum slick down your thighs. While you both caught your breath, it became quiet once more. 

It took you a bit longer to catch up on air in your lungs, and so while you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing, you heard Sanji zip his trousers back up and lightly walk across the aisle between the workstations. When you opened your eyes again, he was making his way back to you already, a handful of paper towels in his hand. 

Despite the burn you already felt in your sore muscles, you spread your legs one last time to give him access to clean you up. His soft touches to your sensitive core now were in stark contrast to what he had been doing to you moments ago, but the cold of the damp towel brought a nice sense of comfort. 

‘You think you can stand up for me?’ he asked gently, and the little words in that tone were enough to make your heart flutter. 

‘Yeah, I think so.’ You said, but that was quickly proven wrong when your knees buckled almost immediately when your feet touched the ground. It was only because of the way that Sanji held your arm that you had not completely toppled over. 

‘Woah, alright.’ He smiled, never letting go of you, ‘How about we just sit for now.’ Slowly, he guided you to sit on the ground, back against a cabinet. ‘Water?’ 

You nodded in agreement. The question had made you realise just how parched you were.

‘Still, sparkling, mineral?’

‘Surprise me.’ You said through a tired smile at the reference to how he waited on you earlier, but moments later, you reminded yourself of your preference, ‘just not sparkling! It just tastes foul.’ 

‘Anything but sparkling water, coming right up.’ He moved around the room to pour you some surprise water, and while he did so, you pressed your face into your hands, laughing at the absurdity of it all. Less than 12 hours ago, you had been walking up the deck, arm in arm, with your good-for-nothing boyfriend, soon-to-be fiance. Now you sat on the ground of a restaurant kitchen, with no idea where said–now ex–-boyfriend was in the world, coming down from one of the best orgasms you had ever received… all by the hand of a stranger. A handsome stranger at that. One that you could imagine seeing much more of in the future, but it was all just too silly. 

And you were tired. And hungry. 

‘Voila,’ Sanji appeared in front of you with impeccable timing, a large ice-cold looking glass in one hand, filled with ice cubes and cucumber, and two plates in the other hand. The rose and chocolate meringue tartes look particularly inviting. ‘Thought you might finally want to try one,’ he said as he handed you a plate and fork.

‘I swear, you’re a godsend.’ No matter in how much need you were of a drink, the sight of the dessert made your mouth water. 

‘Ah, just a little something sweet for—’

‘If you’re going to say what I think you’re going to say, I will shove this tarte in your face.’ One could only endure so much of this sappy flirting, even if you found it very endearing. Sanji shut his mouth and sat beside you, poking his fork into his portion.

The two of you ate quickly but still took enough time to appreciate the flavours that oozed out of the pastry and its filling. The moan you made as it all reached your tastebuds might have been more pornographic than any sound you made while he had been deep inside you. 

‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ you said through another bite. The praise brought a huge smile to the cook’s lips. ‘Seriously, thank you. For everything.’

‘It’s been my pleasure,’ he spoke in a way that almost made you think he was getting shy on you. That felt unlikely, but you let him process it all for a moment as you kept eating. 

Only once you had eaten everything off your plate did you ask your next question of the evening. ‘How did you know I would like this?’

‘It’s a chef’s best trait,’ he pulled the fork out of his mouth with a pop, ‘to be able to read their customers well. To be able to tell what they like or dislike; to know them better than they know themselves.’

‘But how?’ With intrigue, you moved closer to him. He had been leaning against the same cupboard as you, one of his knees raised up and an arm hanging casually over it. His hair was still messy, falling over his eye. ‘How could you tell I would enjoy this specific dish?’ 

The one unobstructed eye fell over you, looking up and down over your body as his mischievous smile reappeared. ‘It felt fitting.’

‘How so?’ You blinked, confused as to what he meant.

‘Sweet, decadent and hot; what’s there not to like? I mean—’ he leaned in over his arm to kiss you, feather-light. Then, he hummed as he pulled back. ‘It is an absolutely divine combination.’

Your cheeks burned up for what felt like the millionth time that evening, and you could not dare keep looking at him as he stared down at you with that innate hunger. That kind that could only be filled with one thing, and it just so happened to have wholly exhausted you. 

‘Is this still all part of that special of yours?’

To this, Sanji shrugged, ‘Depends.’

‘On what?’

‘On how long you want to keep me around.’ He scraped some leftover mousse from his plate, licking it off his fork.

‘I think for a while,’ you admitted. Yeah, you definitely hadn’t had enough of him yet. 

‘Well, then there’s so much more I can do for you, madame.’

the end

thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and commenting-either through the comments, in a reblog or through my inbox <3 to hear your thoughts on my writing means the world to me and really is a huge help in motivation to keep going.

you can find my other writing here

[lieslab]

You're wearing me out, but I love you the same

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: og8 X gn reader

Summary: You're filming a new Skz Code video at a summer camp and your group members are unhinged in the best way possible.

Genre: 9th member AU

Word Count: 5.3k

A/N: Requestee, I've been writing this for hours (hence why it's up later than usual) I've giggled far too much writing this one because picturing it playing out brings me pure joy and giddiness. The guys are so silly, I love them. It isn't Stray Kids without chaos <3

_ _ _

“This is so exciting!” Changbin squealed. “I can’t wait! Hyunjinnie, are you excited?” He glanced over, lightly punching Hyunjin’s arm. 

“I’m just thrilled we’re not staying in tents. You know how I feel about tents. They’re way too much work and ugh. Thank god, we’re sleeping in actual cabins.” 

Further down the way, you smoothed out your t-shirt. You purchased the white t-shirt at some point last week. Screen-printed graphic fish sat on the front in black outlines. Tucked into your denim shorts, you eagerly awaited instructions from staff members. 

All nine members would be filming for a summer camp themed Skz Code. Dressed in long socks and tennis shoes, you’d been eagerly awaiting since this morning. Last night, you could barely sleep due to excitement. 

“Can everyone line up? We’re going to start filming in a moment.” The director waved a few of the guys to walk further ahead. 

You all stood soaked in bright sunlight. Felix groaned and shielded his eyes. “How are we going to survive this? It’s so bright out here.” 

“Struggling already, Yongbok? How do you plan to survive the day? You should have come prepared like me.” Minho tapped his sunglasses. “A smart camper thinks ahead.” 

“I didn’t really think about it,” Felix frowned. “I guess I’ll have to pack them next time. I forgot we’d be filming a lot outside.” 

Without a word, Minho took off his glasses and handed them over. Felix perked up instantly and placed them on his face. The bright yellow sun dimmed instantly. “Thanks, hyung!” 

“Okay, we’re going to start filming in three, two…” The director signaled and your eyes went over to the camera crew. 

A variety of staff members held different cameras. Your mic pack sat in your back pocket. The corded mic strung up through your shirt and hid in the inner collar. “Hi, Stay!” You waved. 

Greetings were given to the camera. They cut off with a shrill scream. Han stumbled backward and rushed over to you. “Help! There’s a bee!” 

“That’s not a bee, that’s a wasp,” Jeongin corrected him. 

Seungmin pointed and laughed, causing Han to huddle behind your body. He stuck his head over your shoulder and poked a pink tongue out at Seungmin. Seungmin rolled his eyes and shook his head. “It’s going to be a long day.” 

“Anyway, we’re spending a day at summer camp and I hope I get to stay at a cabin with my wife!” Changbin leaned over and wrapped an arm around Hyunjin, at least, he tried. 

When Hyunjin wouldn’t bend down and allow it, Changbin huffed and wrapped an arm around his waist instead. Hyunjin’s head tipped back with a groan. “Why do we have to do this today? It’s too hot. Get off of me, you oaf!” 

His face fell in disbelief “OAF? That’s not very nice. I’d never call my significant other an oaf.” 

Hyunjin shoved him off. You laughed and Han’s fingers curled into the back of your shirt. “Do you think the bee is gone?” He whispered. 

“Yeah, I think so. It came up missing after it dived at Seungmin. Don’t worry, you’re safe now.” 

“My hero.” 

Chan grabbed a small bucket from one of the staff members. The company rented out a small camp in the countryside. Everyone had already been briefed on how the day would go. 

“We’re going to pick who is in what cabin. Since there’s nine of us, five of us will go into the bigger cabin. Four of you will be in the other.” 

“I’ve got dips bunking with Han!” 

“Shut up, Minho, that’s not how it works,” Hyunjin said. 

“What did you just say to me, you muskrat?” 

“What’s a muskrat?” 

Han peeked out from behind your shoulder once more. “Hyunjin, you kinda do look like a muskrat. It’s your scruffy short hair.” 

“What does that mean?” 

“Google it,” Minho snapped. 

Chan beamed at the camera and shook the bucket. “Who wants to draw names for cabin one? Once we’re in our groups, we’re going to pick names for our cabins. How about I go first?” 

“I wanted to go first,” Han frowned. 

“Mind your manners for the elderly,” Seungmin reminded him. 

You and Felix tried not to laugh. Chan reached into the bucket. “Okay the first person in the first cabin is-” He picked up a small piece of paper and opened it. “Seungmin!” 

“How horrible.” 

“You wanna come pick the next person?” 

Seungmin headed over and stuck his hand in the bucket. Chan kept it raised, so Seungmin couldn’t see who he was picking. He stretched onto his tip-toes and pulled out a sheet of paper. When he opened it, his face fell. 

“Nuh-uh, let me put it back and try again.” 

“Who is it?” 

“Hey,” Felix called over, “it can’t be that bad.” He headed over and tugged the paper from Seungmin’s hand. When he opened it, he busted into a fit of giggles. “It’s channie hyung!” 

Chan grinned and handed the bucket to Felix. “You know what this means Seungmin!” 

“Don’t even start.” 

“We sleep together, Seungmin!” 

“I don’t wanna do this anymore.” 

Chan wrapped his arms around Seungmin’s body and squeezed. He groaned and let it happen. “This is the worst day of my life.” 

“It could be worse,” you offered. 

“Nothing is worse than this. This is my own personal purgatory. I’m going to smell like an old man by the end of this.” 

“You don’t wanna smell like the new Fendi cologne?” Chan teased. 

“You smell like a-” 

Chan placed his hand over Seungmin’s mouth. “Felix, you can pick the next name. Don’t leave us waiting for too long.” 

~ ~ ~ 

After finishing picking cabins, you wheeled your suitcase into one of the log cabins. To your relief, you were only stuck with three of the guys, instead of four. Minho, Jeongin, and Felix were trapped with you. 

In the other cabin, Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, and Seungmin would likely be fighting for their lives. You couldn’t imagine the chaos that’d ensue. You were content with your bunkmates. 

Two freshly made bunk-beds sat opposite of each other. Pillows neatly sat on top of the red bedding. You tugged your suitcase closer to the area, debating on which bunk you might want. 

“How did you get here so fast?” 

You glanced over your shoulder to find Felix. Minho’s sunglasses were pushed up onto the top of his head. “I was the first one to get my luggage out of the car.” 

“Are you a top bunk or bottom bunk type of person?” 

You shrugged, “I don’t mind either option. I was waiting for you guys to pick your bunks before I-” 

“Bunk with me!” He swung off his backpack and shoved it on the top of one of the bunks. “Be my bunk buddy, please!” 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” You rolled your suitcase near the bottom bunk and plopped down on it. A few inches sat between you and the top bunk. “I hope I don’t whack my head on the top bunk while trying to get out of the bed.” 

By the time Jeongin and Minho came inside, you and Felix were already situated. Minho glanced at the top bunk and looked at Jeongin. Before he could speak, Jeongin beat him to it. “You can have it, if you want it.” 

“Good because I wasn’t going to ask.” 

You yawned, already feeling the anguish of getting up early. “I can’t believe we’re staying here for the next few days and filming content. I’m tired from getting up early.” 

“Yeah, same,” Jeongin agreed.” 

“I think you two could just use some coffee. Felix doesn’t need any, he’s already bright and chipper.” 

“Yeah, it’d be a bad idea.” 

While the four of you talked, you glanced around the cabin. The cabin door locked and across the way, a small opening led to a bathroom with two sinks, two showers, and two bathroom stalls. 

You slumped over onto the pillow, letting your shoes dangle off the side of your bed. You sighed and let your eyes shut. Right before you drifted off, a knock sounded at the door. A ladder creaked and shuffling shoes fell across the hardwood floor. 

Minho opened the door to reveal one of the staff members. He chuckled at the sight over Minho’s shoulder. “Are you guys ready to eat? Breakfast is ready.” 

“Already?” 

“Yeah, you’re going to need some energy for what we have planned today.” 

~ ~ ~ 

“Are we sure this is safe?” Felix frowned and looked over at the staff members with worry. “These arrows look awfully pointy and-” 

Thwack! 

“Hey, I did it! Look at me! I did it!” Han pointed down at the painted target. “Do you see that Stay? I’ll keep you safe with my archery skills. Get behind me!” 

“Um… weren’t you the same guy that took off running for cover earlier because you saw a wasp?” 

“Shut up, Seungmin.” 

You waited a few feet behind Chan. There were only six targets out and nine of you. You waited with Changbin and Jeongin for a turn. The camp staff filled the day with activities they completed with campers. 

Your stomach slowly digested your yogurt parfait. Vanilla yogurt mixed with layers of blueberries and chopped strawberries. Topped with honey-glazed granola, you paired it with a side of hashbrowns. 

The sweetness stained your lips as you waited for your turn to come around. After eating, one of the staff members led you over to the archery targets. You watched as they carefully instructed the right way to load the bow and how to shoot the arrows. 

The targets sat in an empty area. Orange cones blocked off small portions of space for each archer. You watched the guys load arrows from a plastic stand and fire them. So far, nobody has hit the center of the target. 

A loud yelp caught your attention and you glanced over. Hyunjin cried out and shook his arm. “Ow! Ow! OW!” 

“Oh no, what happened? Are you okay?” The concerned counselor rushed over with a frown. 

“I pulled the string back and let go. It snapped against my forearm in the process. I’m fine, but it felt like a bee sting.” 

“Oh dear. Please be careful when shooting. Make sure you are all keeping your forearms-” Another yelp cut her off. 

Felix’s bow dropped to the ground and he grabbed his forearm. “Holy fuck! Ow! I don’t wanna do this anymore. That hurt too much.” He called your name and gestured to the bow. “Can you take over?” 

“Please be careful. I’m going to go get some of the arm guards we have. They’ll protect your forearms from being injured.” The woman spun around and hurried to the designated office. 

You took your time studying the bow and figuring out the proper way to hold it. Chan and Hyunjin pulled back, so Jeongin and Changbin could have a turn to shoot. When you felt prepared enough, you grabbed one of the arrows and hooked it onto the string.

Your eyes narrowed at the target and you pulled the string back. The arrow quivered and quickly straightened. You took a deep breath in and out. You aimed the arrow at the target and let it fly. 

Thwack! 

“Bullseye!” You called triumphantly. 

“Wait, that’s not fair! I’m out of arrows! Let me go- AH! Seungmin, you nearly took off my head!” 

“What kind of idiot starts to walk into a field when everyone else is still shooting their arrows? Did you not hear what the woman said about safety? Can you hear?” 

“I forgot!” 

“You won’t forget when an arrow pierced you upside the head, idiot.” 

You ignored them, hooked another arrow, soaked in your adrenaline, and let it fly. 

~ ~ ~ 

“Let’s go!” Changbin shrieked. He flexed his muscles and rushed towards an unprepared Chan. The moment he chest bumped him, Chan slipped backwards, hitting the ground with a faint ‘oof.’

“Whoops! Sorry, hyung. I guess I still don’t know my own strength.” 

“Yeah, you can say that again.” Chan grabbed Changbin’s outstretched arms and let him pull him to his feet. “Good job on scoring.” 

“I’m on a roll today!” 

“Keep it up.” 

On the opposite side of the field, Felix stood in front of the awaiting goal. The black and white soccer ball sat behind him. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked back at the ball. “How did that happen? I swore I had enough time to-” 

“Suck it!” Changbin hollered. 

Hyunjin’s fists went up in the air. He shrieked and ran around the soccer field. He weaved between you and Seungmin. The two of you both shared a look of annoyance. Seungmin’s leg went out, trying to trip Hyunjin, but he hurdled over it.

You all split up and huddled with your cabin members. For the past forty-five minutes, you all played soccer. You tried to play because playing four members versus five was tough. Just when you thought you were doing well, the other team snagged the ball. 

You were the first goalie and when they kept getting balls into the net, you swapped with Jeongin. You tried to trip up Seungmin, but he managed to outwit you and score a goal between Jeongin’s spread legs. 

Han attempted to keep up with Chan, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin, but it mainly turned into him jumping up and down on the field. The one time he got the ball from Felix, he attempted to kick it, missed the ball, and slipped to the ground like a cartoon character. 

You all stopped the soccer game because none of you could recover. Pointing and giggling, Han laid on the ground with tears forming in his eyes. A hand curled over his stomach as he laughed, trying to find the strength to get up. 

Hyunjin performed another victory lap between you and Seungmin. It came to a sudden halt when Minho grabbed the back of his shirt and jerked him back. “Do you know what a yellow card is? You’re about to get one, Hwang.” 

“Eat my-” 

“Play ball!” Chan called out. “Felix, pass me the ball.” 

“Yes, sir!” He kicked the ball from the goal, sending it rolling down the green grass. It stopped along the side of Chan’s foot. “Minho hyung, sick ‘em!” 

“I’ll skewer them.” 

“Yeah!” 

You wiped sweat from the side of your forehead and jogged to the side of Minho. “Can this be the last round? I’m dying. It’s nine points to one.” 

“Giving up so soon?” Minho glanced over with a playful smirk. 

“I’m tired.” 

Chan kicked the ball, sending it straight through your legs. You yelled his name and spun around. He giggled and rushed to the side. “Changbin, pass it back!” 

“Don’t you dare!” You tried to run in his direction, but Hyunjin cut you off. The pair passed the ball and you chased after them. “Don’t just stand there, Jeongin, help me!” 

“I’m trying!” 

Han and Felix’s voices collided. One taunted while the other cheered. On the defense, Felix crouched low, trying to stop the blur of the ball from hitting the net. Minho sprinted, kicking the ball from Changbin’s soaring foot. 

It jerked to the side, rolling away from your net. You rushed after it, letting the wind sail through your hair. “I’ve got it! I’ve got it! I-” 

Seungmin rushed forward the same time you did. Your legs tangled and you both hit the ground. The ball drifted and your eyes widened. “Felix!” 

“I see it!” 

He lunged, but it was too late. Before he could stop the sailing ball, Han’s sudden kick sent it into the back of the net. Your eyes widened and Changbin gasped. Felix hit the ground with a defeated groan. “I don’t got it.” He shifted and his head dipped into the grass. 

Screams erupted from the other team. Hyunjin rushed over and wrapped his arms around Han. “You did it! You scored the winning point!” 

“Hannie! Hannie! Hannie! Hannie!” 

He screeched as Chan, Changbin, and Hyunjin lifted him into the air. On top of Changbin’s shoulders, he giggled and cheered. His fists pumped towards the sky. 

Despite your loss, you couldn’t stop the fondness from filling your eyes as Seungmin rushed away from you and went over to celebrate. 

~ ~ ~ 

After lunch, Jeongin groaned and held his stomach. “I’m never eating barbecued anything ever again. I’m having the worst heartburn. Oh, this is awful.” 

“Do you need a Tums? I think one of the staff members carries a pack around. Do you want me to go find one for you?” Felix asked. 

“Please. I think I’m going to erupt and die. I can feel my stomach bloating and gurgling.” 

“Ew,” Seungmin mumbled. 

The four of you were tailing the other guys. You were all given different clues for a scavenger hunt. With nine different clues, the staff members said you could solve them on your own, or together. So far, you found a stash of white t-shirts and a pack of rubber bands. What they were for, you didn’t know yet. 

When Felix came back, Jeongin thanked him and chewed up the chalky tablet. You wandered further into the group. Over Changbin’s shoulder, you scanned his paper and an eyebrow raised. 

“What’s blue and latex?” You uttered out loud. 

“I don’t know. I’m stuck between balloons and hospital gloves. The tallest tree around, I know where that’s at. The manager pointed it out earlier, remember? Back where we were dropped off.” 

As you talked amongst the guys, Han paused. “Um… that doesn’t seem right, does it? A giant table in the middle of the woods?” 

“With a black tablecloth?” 

As you all spread out, you studied the table in confusion. “It has to be part of the thing. Maybe we should put the stuff we’ve already gathered here. If we split up, it’ll be quicker. We could meet back here.” 

“I’ve got dibs with you!” Changbin laced his hand through yours and you let him. “Minho, you have to go out to the entrance as well, right? Come with us.” 

“Apparently.” He stepped over and followed the two of you as you wandered back down the worn trail. Dark bushy trees lingered over your heads. “Has anyone figured out what we’re doing yet?” 

“I don’t think so.” 

“Have you?” You looked over as he stepped in line with the two of you. 

“I think we’re going to tie-dye shirts.” 

“Oh!” Your face lit up. “That makes sense! Changbin, your item probably is gloves if we’re dyeing things.” 

“Oh, great, just what I need. This is going to be horrendous. Have they met us? Seungmin’s going to dye us smurf blue and the staff won’t stop him because they’ll be laughing their asses off.” 

Minho’s head shook. “ That won’t happen to me. I’m going to dye his annoying ass orange first. We’ll see what happens after that.” 

“I guess we will.” 

~ ~ ~ 

Ten minutes after you all came back to the table further in the woods, a camp staff member explained how to tie-dye your white shirts. Swirled a certain way and wrapped with multiple rubber bands, you glanced at the colors before you carefully. 

Beside you, Chan grabbed a bottle of orange dye and squeezed it all over his shirt. He called your name and picked up another color. “Are you making your shirt rainbow, or are you only doing a few colors?” 

“I don’t know. I think I might stick with three colors. That’s nice, right? I think it’ll go better with certain outfits that way. It already has white. Blue, pink, and purple? I could do green, orange, and yellow. There’s so many options, it’s hard to decide.” 

You frowned and hesitated to grab a bottle of dye. On your opposite side, Seungmin grabbed a bottle of red. He shoved it between a shirt fold and squeezed. “I’m making mine red and purple.” 

“Any reason why?” 

“Nope.” He grabbed the purple with his opposite hand, stuck it between another fold and squeezed again. “I feel like I’m conducting wizardry.” 

“IT’S NOT MY DWAEKKI PINK!” 

All three of you looked over at Changbin’s shirt. A dark pink oozed everywhere, including all over the table around him. He frowned and stared at the bottle. “I’ve been betrayed by a color I trusted most.” 

“It’s okay, Changbinnie. I want pink, too. We’re going to match.” Felix leaned over and reassuringly patted his shoulder. “Plus, it’ll dry and lighten a little. Maybe there’s still a little hope.” 

“There better be!” 

“Claude Monet, what are you doing over there?” Jeongin’s attention turned to Hyunjin after he injected purple into his own shirt. Hyunjin sat on his knees. He shoved a dark blue into specific parts of his shirt. “Why are you doing that?” 

“I’m going for a specific pattern. Blue and green are both cool colors. If I add a little bit of purple, I think I’ll get exactly what I’m looking for.” 

“Well, I know what I’m doing.” Minho grabbed pink and green and squirted the colors all over his white shirt. “It’s not that hard to decide.” 

“I love that idea. It reminds me of our song. I wish there was brown for Han Quokka,” Han frowned. “I’ll do without and try to make it work. If I mixed up every color, do you think it’d come out brown?” 

“Probably just a rainbow.” 

“It’s worth a shot, I think.” 

After a few more moments of hesitation, you grabbed your favorite color and began squirting dye into the white shirt. 

~ ~ ~ 

By the time you all finished, dye was in places it shouldn’t have been. Pink stained Changbin’s arms. One of Seungmin’s latex gloves tore and purple soaked his left hand. Felix reached across the table to bother Jeongin and accidentally smeared green on the side of his forearm. 

Your balled up shirts were left to dry. In the meantime, a staff member led you all towards a large pond. Hidden in an area of swaying trees, you cautiously walked along gravel and headed in the direction of awaiting canoes. 

“Oh, perfect,” you mumbled. 

“Who wants to be with who?” Hyunjin asked. “I wanna be with Innie.” 

“This Innie wants to be left outie when it comes to you.” 

“That only makes me want you more.” 

“Gross.” 

You stayed in the distance as everyone paired up. The idea of being in such a small canoe frightened you. Not to mention, you’d never done it before. Life jackets were provided, so it wasn’t like you’d drown, but it still made you incredibly nervous. 

When you were handed a life jacket, you placed the orange flotation device over your head and fastened it. You didn’t want to canoe, but you knew the staff would want video footage of everyone in the water. So instead of backing out, you grabbed two oars and shoved a canoe across the sandy bank. 

With a loud grunt, you pushed it into the water as far as you dared and carefully lowered yourself into the middle to balance it. An oar laid in your lap and you sucked in a deep breath. The rest of the guys were already nearly twenty feet ahead, paddling with ease. 

“This is so nice,” Felix called to Changbin. “I wish we could do this all the time. Are you relaxed?” 

“I could take a nap out here. Look at the water! It’s so blue! Do you think there’s fish in here?” 

“Probably. I overheard a staff member question if we would fish today, or not. I’m pretty sure they decided against it.” 

Chan giggled as Han and Jeongin panicked. Minho snorted and shook his head. “Hey, idiots! Stop shifting! You’re causing the boat to rock!” 

“Easy for you to say! You’re older and wiser!” Han panicked and grabbed the sides of the canoe. “I’m scared!” 

“If you don’t stop moving, I’m coming back there and whacking you with the oar.” Jeongin grumbled. 

“AH!” 

Hyunjin and Seungmin rowed further and further away from the group. “They’re too loud,” Seungmin mumbled. “Let’s enjoy peace and quiet on the opposite side of the pond. It’s getting harder to row out here.” 

“Yeah, it’s because I’m letting you do all the work.” Hyunjin sat content in the back of the boat. His legs spread out and the oar sat horizontal along the boat. “I stopped rowing after we turned.” 

“Jackass.” 

With your single paddle in the water, you rowed further and further out into the water. From the shore, cameras zoomed in to catch sight of you. You were all going to be equipped with body cameras, but they were accidentally left behind at the company building. 

Felix called your name and waved. “Hey, how are you hanging over here?” 

“I’m not. I’m terrified, but I’m trying to survive.” 

“Don’t worry,” Changbin reassured you. “You’ll be fine. If anything happens, we’ll rescue you.” 

“That doesn’t feel reassuring.” 

“Do you want us to let you get eaten by piranhas?” 

Your eyes widened, causing Felix to laugh. “He’s just kidding. There aren’t any piranhas in this water. Probably just basic fish. I doubt they’d try to eat you.” 

“But they might,” Changbin whispered as he rowed them away. 

His words left your anxiety to grow. A few minutes later, you shifted, trying to readjust your body. The moment you did, your boat tipped to the side. You gasped and jerked to the other side. The sudden force was enough to overcorrect the issue. You shrieked and your body swayed. The sound of a loud splash caused everyone to stop and look over. 

Felix shrieked your name, but you didn’t respond. The wooden canoe was upside down over where you once were. Both wooden oars vanished beneath the glossy water. 

Bubbles floated up, causing Changbin and Felix to reverse. Chan shifted to jump out of the canoe, but Minho stopped him, worrying that their own canoe would tip over. Hyunjin and Seungmin shared a look and Seungmin nodded. 

He crawled back, trying to stabilize the boat. Hyunjin shoved himself over the side and pressed against the canoe, keeping it balanced upright. When it stopped swaying, he swam in your direction. 

Beneath the water, you were briefly engulfed and submerged before you popped back upright. You yelped as your head banged against the inside of the canoe. Before you could tip it back over, it shifted. Felix’s worried eyes met yours. 

Hyunjin grabbed your life jacket, pulling you towards him. “Hey, are you okay? Did you hit your head?” 

Your face sat void of its usual color. Shook up and soaked in chilled water, your head shook. “A little. I-I just wasn’t expecting to hit the water. I’m okay, I think. A little cold, but I’m sure I’ll survive.” 

“Let’s get you back to land, so you can get changed into something warm.” 

“Are they good?” Chan called out as he approached with Minho. 

“Yeah, just cold and shaken up.” 

“You didn’t inhale water, did you?” Minho asked. 

“ARE THEY ALIVE? WE CAN’T GET BACK THERE! WE’RE STUCK! HELP!” 

In the distance, Seungmin rolled his eyes. He was paddling towards you and the canoes until he stumbled upon Han and Jeongin. Their oars rowed, but they pushed themselves in a never-ending circle. Over and over, they meandered in a tail-spin. 

“Han, put your paddle to the other side of the boat!” 

“I’m trying, but now I’m scared I’ll tip us over!” 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” 

You caught a brief glimpse of the spinning canoe. It didn’t last long as Hyunjin led you back to the shore. Shivering and with chattering teeth, you weren’t sure how he seemed so calm. The late spring day still felt pretty cool. Water dripped off of you, soaked your hair, and caused your shoes to squish uncomfortably. 

As you reached land, two staff members rushed to your aid. A towel laid over your shoulders. Your canoe floated empty on the still pond. The guys paddled back to check up on you, but not Jeongin and Han. 

Their canoe still spun in a slow circle while they moaned in misery. 

~ ~ ~ 

A few hours later, you felt warmer. In the glow of the roaring campfire, a sticky s’more sat in your hand. Graham crackers with a gooey marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate sat between them. Chan roasted it and created it for you. 

In new clothes, much warmer clothes, you were wrapped in a blanket. The camera crew continued to film all nine of you. You sat your chair between Jeongin and Seungmin. After dinner, you didn’t feel like doing much of anything. 

When the sun went down, a campfire was lit. The crew decided to skip the scary stories. Your fall from the canoe was frightening enough. Instead, they opted to have you judge a talent show while marshmallows roasted for s’mores. 

“I have a talent. I wanna go first.” Seungmin stood up and the camera zoomed in. “I’d like to make an impression of Han being unable to jump rope.” 

“Do not!” 

An invisible rope swung and Seungmin jumped. He reached down and pretended to pull up his pant legs. “It must be my pants. Hold on, I can do it.” 

Hyunjin leaned back, laughing and clapping his hands in delight. Jeongin chuckled and Han’s face fell into his hands. “Stop it. This is humiliating.” 

“Let me try again. Here I go.” Seungmin swung the invisible rope again. He pretended to stumble and sank to his knees, curling against the floor. When he stood back up, he bowed. “That’s my scene and my talent.” 

You clapped, enjoying Han’s humiliation. “I give that an eight out of ten. It would have been higher, but you didn’t include the pure anguish.” 

“I’ll note it for next time.” 

“No! There will be no next time!” Han jerked to his feet. “No next time! Here, I’m going to impersonate Seungmin doing an impression of JYP!” 

A shared collection of “oohs” roamed around the fire. Minho pushed two more marshmallows onto a skewer and stuck it into the fire. They bubbled and caught on fire while Han continued. 

“Gotta get, gotta get, gotta get that groove back! Uh!” He shifted and hip thrusted into the empty air. 

Felix’s face fell and Chan’s eyes widened. 

“Now when the hell have I ever added that to my JYP impression?” Seungmin questioned. 

Han’s face went bright red and he plopped back into his chair. He jerked his hoodie hood over his face and slumped down in the chair. “Nobody talk to me again.” 

“I’m screen recording this part of the video and sending it to him on his Bubble.” 

“NO!” Han shrieked. 

Changbin pointed and laughed. His high-pitched laughter caused you to fall into your own fit of giggles. You jerked upright and mimicked Han’s dramatic hip thrust, sending the group back into a fit of roaring laughter. 

By the time you recuperated, the talent show was long forgotten about. Every time you looked at Han, he looked away in shame. He covered his face, or his eyes, mumbling about his embarrassment. 

“If we just get you into those see through pants he wore,” Hyunjin added, “you’re practically a dead ringer for him.” 

“JYP, what are you doing here?” Felix added. 

“I’m never going to live this down,” Han mumbled. 

“It’s okay, buddy, we know you can’t jump rope either.” 

“Seungmin!” 

He held up his hands innocently. “If you didn’t want people mocking you, you should have learned to jump rope as a kid.” 

“I know how! I had bad pants that day! It wasn’t a fair shot!” 

“Does anyone have a jump rope we could borrow?” 

“Stop!” 

“Make me.” 

“I’m gonna throw you into a fire pit.” 

“Wow, I’m so scared. Killed off by the guy that can’t jump rope to save his life. What a way to go.” 

“STOP!” 

Hoots and hollers filled the air, floating up with the curling smoke. Every time Changbin flooded into another fit of giggles, so did you. You couldn’t help it. 

Life wasn’t always perfect, but surrounded by eight idiots, it was certainly far from boring. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lia-linny @seungnishi @stellasays45 @emilyywhyy @rockstarkkami @flightlessackerman @inlovewithstraykids @velvetmoonlght @chrizrizz @ari-hwanggg @m-325 @justcallmewhatyoulike

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

Ko-fi

[clockwayswrites]

Cozytober Day 4: "Thank you for putting up with me."

masterpost

“Walls?” Danny prompted after another few sips. “Filtering?”

“Oh, sure. Stay upright for a moment,” Jason ordered.

He leaned forward enough to snag his work bag and rifle around for his tablet. Danny gamely stayed upright, but slumped back against Jason as soon as he could. To his credit, Jason juggled Danny, his own hot chocolate, and the table with ease.

Soon the wall’s specs were pulled up on the screen and Jason was chatting away about everything that worked and didn’t work with the current construction of the walls. There was no denying that Gotham had particular needs with freak weather changes, temperamental plants, and poisonous gases. But it was good to see Jason so excited about this start.

By the time that the mugs were long empty and Jason as running out of steam, Danny took a deep breath and it came easily. There were no more words or worries or frustrations clogging up his throat. There was just him. He closed his eyes and let out the breath slowly.

Jason stopped talking and pressed a light kiss to Danny’s temple. “Hey there.”

“Hey,” Danny said with a soft smile. “Sorry about the silent invasion. I know I didn’t exactly give you a heads up.”

“Coming home to find you in my bed is never a bad thing,” Jason said. He leaned forward to set his things on the coffee table before taking Danny’s empty mug too. “Besides, I didn’t add you to my door code for you not to visit. You’re always welcome here, boo.”

“A dangerous offer,” Danny said.

“I know what I’m getting into,” Jason replied. He pressed another kiss to Danny’s forehead before he took the mugs to the kitchen.

Danny stretched slowly. “Lies. I am a man of mystery!”

“Danny,” Jason said, giving a dry look from over the kitchen island. “You spilled being a Meta two weeks into us knowing each other.”

“I’m not a Meta, it’s a medical condition, and besides, you were so worried about me getting randomly killed on the streets of Gotham. I had to do something to reassure you!” Danny made himself get off the couch. He grabbed Jason’s work bag and took it over to where it normally hung by the door. He fished the folder out of the front pocket—work Jason would insist on doing over the weekend—and took it to the desk that sat in front of one massive window bays.

“Not a man of mystery.”

“I could have secrets! I could have lots of secrets.”

“Yeah, and what’s one of them.”

“I,” Danny started as he made his way to Jason, “would kill for your hot chocolate.”

Jason laughed and wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist. “Not a secret, and please don’t. I would be forced to cover up the murder and then various members of my family would give me that disappointed look.”

“Your family always sounds so interesting.”

“You could meet them yourself at dinner tomorrow.”

Danny froze. Danny froze and he knew Jason felt it by the the way his brows drew together and his mouth twitched almost into a frown.

“I’m sorry—” Danny started at the same time as Jason tried to say, “Forget I said anything.”

They both closed their mouths with a snap.

Danny broke the silence with a sigh. “I just… soon, okay? I just want to be… better.”

“You don’t have to be better, Danny. They’d love you just like this.”

Danny shook his head. “I just… can’t. I know you want me to meet them, but I just can’t yet. I know it’s… I know that… just…”

Jason quieted Danny with a kiss. “It’s okay Danny, when you’re ready.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“I’m not ‘putting up with you’, Danny,” Jason said. “Giving you room isn’t putting up with you. I like who you are. And I know you aren’t ready, but my family would too. We’re all fuck ups, we’ve got no room to judge anyone.”

Danny gave a little startled snort of laughter. “You’re all Waynes.”

“And the Waynes are fucked up. We’ve been in Gotham too long, fucked up is part of the DNA.”

“You’re adopted.”

“Semantics.”

--- AN: Danny, poking at Jason's hyperfixation to have some calming chatter.

Gods I've missed writing these two ;-;

[kilesplaysthings]

how the boys would react when you have a migraine

this was actually inspired by something a coworker told me the other day. actually, the Xavier one was too. my poor coworkers get such bad migraines, i feel so sorry for them🥺 again, this might be a little ooc, but i'm trying lol enjoy!

Xavier | Rafayel | Zayne | Sylus | Caleb

Part II: Rafayel (you/MC x Rafayel)

Your alarm went off way too soon, but you sluggishly sat up anyway. As you sat there for a moment, you frowned at what felt like another headache coming on. You tried to shrug it off, telling yourself that if you ate some breakfast and drank some water, you'd be able to deal with it. After all, you were brought up with a strong work ethic; if you weren't puking up your guts or basically dying, you were well enough to go to work.

Taking a deep breath, you shoved the covers aside and swung your legs over the side of the bed to push yourself into getting up. However, the moment you stood to your feet, your head swam, and your stomach lurched. Before you realized it, you were falling backwards onto the bed. Your head barely grazed your boyfriend's leg before landing back onto the mattress.

Rafayel stirred and slowly turned over to face you.

"Uhh... you alive?" He asked groggily.

"Yeah... I just..." You tried to sit up slowly, but even as you moved, sharp pain shot up your neck and into your eyes. It was a migraine, not a headache, and it was one of the worse ones you'd had in a while. You could only slowly lower yourself back onto the bed.

"Hey..." Rafayel quickly sat up, more alert now. He laid a gentle, cool hand across your forehead.

"You don't look so good. Another migraine?"

"Yeah..." You began to nod, but even that slight movement made your head spin and your stomach churn. It felt like all the pain was focused on your forehead and right above your eyes.

"Okay. Where's your phone?"

"Nightstand." Is all you said. You pressed your head into the sheets.

"Pass code?" He asked after retrieving it from the table by your side of the bed.

You uttered the numbers through gritted teeth. It wasn't until you peered up at him and saw him making a call that you realized what he was doing.

"Hey, don't..."

He frowned at you. "Hush." He got up from the bed and leaned against the wall by the window.

“Hello, this is Rafayel.” You heard him talking to who you assumed was your boss.

“Yeah, she’s gravely ill, so she won’t be coming into work today… Right. Well, when she wakes up and is feeling up to talking, I’ll have her call to let you know how she’s doing. Yes. Thank you. Goodbye.”

You frowned at him as he put the phone down and sat on the bed next to you.

“Hey, who said you could call off for me?” You grumbled. “I’m fine.”

He just gave you a Look. “Puhlease, if you’re fine like you say you are, why’d you flop down on the bed just now, like a fish washed up on the shore? I bet you can barely walk right now without falling over.”

You huffed. You knew he was right and you couldn’t argue with him. Seeing that you weren’t going to try and fight, he smiled and stroked your head.

“Hey, we both know you’re a hard worker. You hardly ever call off. One day staying at home because of a migraine won’t hurt. I’m sure they’ll understand at work too. You need your rest; that’s what’s important. Besides.”

His cool fingers caressed your warm cheek. “It’s obvious you don’t feel well, and I hate seeing you looking so tired and in pain.”

You wryly smiled. “What would I do without you, Raf?”

He let out a dramatic sigh. “I can’t even imagine. Wither away and die, probably.”

“Right. Well, could you be so kind as to take me to the couch? I don’t want to stay in bed at least.” You held out your arms towards him so he could pick you up.

“Fiiine..since you’re not feeling well.”

With a quiet laugh, he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you out of the bedroom to place you on his plush, blue couch. He then took one of his big, soft blankets and covered you with it. As you snuggled into the couch, Rafayel went over to the nearby window and opened it. You could feel the cool sea breeze on your cheeks and hear the ocean.

"There we go. Some natural ambience. It's kind of bright in here, though. You sure you wanna sit out here?" He wondered.

Your head was still aching and the pressure on your eyes still felt so heavy, you wanted to rip your eyeballs out of their sockets, but you shrugged. You just wanted a change of scenery.

"I'll survive."

He rolled his eyes. "Riiight. Why don't you wear this?" He tossed an eye mask onto your face. Pouting at him, you picked it up.

"Wow. Thanks."

"Don't mention it!" He said brightly. "Just relax. I'll get you some meds and something light to eat, 'kay?"

"Okay." You had nothing left in you to be snarky. You slipped the mask over your face and pulled the blanket up to your neck. You really wanted to take something now, but you knew you should eat something first, so you just lay on the couch hoping he'd bring something soon.

"Here, cutie. Drink some water."

Rafayel's voice was at your side a moment later and you peered up at him. He was holding a tall glass of water. You sat up slowly and took the glass.

"Drink it slowly. I made sure it wasn't too cold."

"Thank you."

He went back to the kitchen as you settled back in the couch, slowly sipping the water as he suggested. After a few minutes, you heard what sounded like glass clanking on a hard surface and the scraping of a chair against the floor. You groaned slightly and turned towards the noise. Lifting the mask slightly, you saw Rafayel sitting beside you in a chair. He had a bowl of steaming soup and you also spotted the bottle of painkillers on the coffee table.

"Soup should be okay, right? I wasn't sure how much your stomach could handle."

You weakly smiled. "It'll be fine. Thank you, Raf."

He smiled back and handed you the bowl. He watched as you ate and decided to pour out a couple of pills for you. Once it looked like you were done with the soup, he handed you the pills.

"I think I'll just veg out here for the rest of the day," you said after you downed the pills with water and nestled back in the couch.

Rafayel laughed a little. "Sure. I'll let you rest while I do some sketches. But what do you say to a nice, warm bath in a little bit? It'll be refreshing."

Your face lit up with a pleased smile as he pulled the mask back over your eyes. "Sounds awesome. You're the best, Rafayel."

"I know, I know." He teased. He leaned in to kiss your cheek. Then, before he got up, he said quietly,

"Close your eyes, listen to the sea, and just let your mind drift away. Your migraine will be gone in no time, cutie."

And with those sweet words of his, you fully believed it would.

[foxsnails]

My hand-made mackerel earrings are up on my shop! (and tinned sardines are back yahoooo)

There's only 4 pairs of earrings available currently, but I'll be opening pre-orders for more soon! (I've also got a few other species in the works at the moment)

I've got a bunch of other fun stuff on my store such as fish-themed and pride-themed stickers too! I also have a 15% off discount code that you can use until the end of the month! PRIDE15

My shop: https://foxsnails.bigcartel.com

(My n my partner have roughly a month left to find a new place so boosts are super appreciated!!)

[captainmalewriter]

Punishment

Peter’s cousin Miles was a well-known hypnotist. While many dismissed him as another scam artist looking to make a quick buck, he was the real deal. With just 10 minutes and the sound of his gentle voice, Miles could even convince a fish it was actually a bird if he wanted to! 

Peter knew how powerful his cousin’s hypnosis skills were. He saw what he could do and wanted to try it for himself. Luckily for Peter, his cousin readily agreed to teach him a thing or two about hypnosis. Miles warned him to never misuse his skills, but of course, Peter merely shrugged off his warnings. 

The basics of hypnosis were fairly straightforward. First, the subject needed to be in a relaxed state of mind. Second, the hypnotist must guide the subject into the inner depths of their mind until they enter into a true hypnotic state. Sort of like giving directions to someone with a blindfold on. Third, the hypnotist offers suggestions to the entranced subject. If the subject accepts the suggestion, then the hypnotist must create a code word that will allow the subject to switch in and out of their altered state of being. Easy to learn, but difficult to master.

Once Peter got the hang of it, he wasted no time in showing his best friend Luis his new skills. Naturally, once Luis saw just how powerful hypnosis was, he wanted in on the fun too. He asked how to hypnotize someone and Peter happily taught him the ropes. Together, Peter and Luis decided to use hypnosis to get whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. They quickly became a selfish, power-hungry duo with their newfound abilities. Money, women, and alcohol. All it took was one conversation with a naive target and suddenly everything they could ever want was right at their fingertips. Peter and Luis believed they had become unstoppable! 

But surely enough, Peter’s cousin soon caught wind of their reckless antics. He was disgusted by their misuse of such a sacred art and, more importantly, he felt betrayed by someone who shared his bloodline. He was outraged! And so, Miles decided to deal out a punishment to the two misbehaving hypnotists. He invited them both over to his house for a night of video games and beer. They accepted the invitation and quickly made themselves at home without any hesitation. While Peter and Luis were busy enjoying themselves with free alcohol, Miles got straight to work performing his mental magic. 

“How are you guys doing? Are you comfortable? I wanna make sure I’m being a good host.”

“You’re doing great, primo! I feel right at home here,” Peter answered.

“Yeah man! Thanks for having us over,” Luis chimed in. He stretched and let out a yawn. “I feel like I could just fall asleep right here on this couch.” 

“That’s good! I’m glad to hear it. Please gentlemen, my house is your house. Feel free to kick your feet up. Take a deep breath too, let the stress roll off your shoulders.”

They did exactly as Miles suggested without question. They put their feet up on the nearby table and took a deep breath. In… Out… Relax. It was such an ordinary command, and Miles delivered it so subtly, that both Peter and Luis failed to realize they had already fallen into his trap. 

With every word Peter’s cousin spoke, they became entranced in a deep state of relaxation. Any and all thoughts they had were silenced, leaving behind only a fuzzy, gray feeling. Their eyes had a glazed over look to them. The lights were on, but clearly nobody was home anymore. All they could focus on was the sound of Miles’ voice. Their minds were wiped clean. A blank canvas, and with Miles holding the only paintbrush. 

“You are such good friends,” Miles started. “I think it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you two are best friends for life! Am I wrong?”

“No, sir…” Peter and Luis answered in a low, sluggish voice. 

“Wow! That’s amazing, but you know, I can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s something even deeper between you two than just being good friends. Perhaps… something sexual?” 

“Nrghh…” 

“Ughhh…”

Peter and Luis moaned as they began moving restlessly in their seats. Miles grinned at the sight of them squirming from his words.

“That’s right… You both very clearly like each other. Personally, I think it’s time you both give in to your true feelings for one another. Does that sound like a good idea?” Miles asked with a smirk.

“Yes, sir…”  they answered in unison. Their hands moved to the other man’s crotch and grabbed it. They massaged each other until they both had tall tents forming in their pants. 

“I think you two are going to be very good boyfriends from now on. In fact, you two should leave the hypnosis world behind. You won’t need hypnosis when you have each other!”

“Ohhh fuckk… That feels sooo good…!” Luis groaned. 

“I fucking love you man… I wanna feel you deep inside of me…!!” Peter moaned. He was panting and salivating like a hungry dog.

“Okay, my friends, whenever you hear the word ‘hypnosis,’ I want you two to remember just how much you love each other. You’re both insanely attracted to each other’s bodies, so don’t be afraid to express it!” 

Miles clapped his hands as loud as he could until both Peter and Luis woke up from their shared trance. They woke up groggy and unsure of what just happened. Yet, despite their severe confusion, all they could focus on was how handsome the man sitting next to them was. They leaned in and shared a deep kiss. Miles let them make out for a few seconds before throwing a couple of game controllers at them. 

“Hey man!! Are we gonna play or are y’all just gonna fuck on my couch!?”

Peter grinned, then grabbed the controller to join the game. Luis followed suit. As they played, Miles dropped a quick test question. 

“Hey Peter, how’s it going with your hypnosis skills? You getting any better yet?”

“Argh!”

“Unnnhh!!”

Both Peter and Luis let out an obscenely loud moan as they felt a sudden warmth growing in their bodies. 

“Uhh… To be honest, I gave up practicing hypnosis. I don’t really need it.” Peter answered. Miles merely nodded.

They tried to ignore their mutual lust for each other and just continue playing the game, but the growing members in their pants gave them away. All Peter could think about was Luis’ thick, hairy cock dripping with precum. It drove him mad and Luis knew it! He smirked as he watched his boyfriend gyrate his hips into the couch cushions. He was itching for his dick as much as he was hungry for his sweet, tight hole!

Peter eventually threw the game just to end it quickly. 

“Damn, I lost!! Oh well. Hey, Miles, could I ask you to grab us a pizza? I’ll pay of course.”

Miles turned to his cousin. He saw the hungry lust burning in his eyes and internally smiled. 

“Sure Pete, I’ll be right back.”

As soon Miles stepped out of his house, he heard loud kissing and groaning coming from his house. No doubt it was Peter and Luis ripping their clothes off of each other’s bodies. Miles grinned. His little plan had worked. There were two less selfish hypnotists in the world. And now he had a free pizza to celebrate his success.

[simplyholl]

A Night With The Winter Soldier

Summary: You’re sent to be Hydra’s test subject for a new serum.

Pairing: F. Reader x Winter Soldier Bucky

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Dark Bucky. Non con. Oral. Unprotected sex.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: I know I don’t usually write for Bucky, but this idea has been stuck in my head for a long time. I’m just tagging my regular tag list, if you’re not into dark fics, please skip! ❤️

Fucked. That’s what you were or at least what you were going to be. You shake your head as you cover your skimpy lingerie with the matching robe your mother gave to you.

Your father is the head scientist for Hydra. He had been working on this experiment for years. He had created a serum that would cause Super Soldiers to want to reproduce. The end result would be a perfect Super Soldier baby. He finally perfected it. Who could be a better test subject than his daughter?

You begged him. You pleaded and cried. It was unfair to expect this of you. But he didn’t care how you felt. He said it was your duty to do as you were told. You didn’t want to make Hydra upset with your family, did you? You knew the horrors that awaited you if you refused. Your best friend, Lilly and her whole family disappeared three years ago when her father refused a command from Hydra. They were brutal and cruel. Sadly, you were used to it.

Hydra came first. Before yourself, before your family, your loyalty had to be unwavering. You knew it wasn’t really your father who had suggested it be you. Your mother told you it was one of the higher ups. He had seen you in your new sundress a few weeks ago and thought you would be perfect to carry the first Super Soldier baby.

It made you sick. How could they do this? You didn’t want to know what would happen if you refused. “At least, he is the strongest Super Soldier. This baby’s genes will be impeccable with the both of you for parents.” Your mother reassured you, as if it would help you feel better.

You weren’t naive. You and the baby would be monitored from the moment you got pregnant. As soon as you gave birth, the child would be ripped from your arms and watched closely. It wouldn’t really be yours.

You take the elevator to the thirteenth floor, heart racing wildly. You were scared. You had seen the Super Soldiers behind glass doors where you were protected from them. Now, you were being offered on a silver platter to the biggest baddest one, like a worm on a hook waiting for a fish to jump after them.

Two guards stand outside the door to the windowless room. Their eyes roam over your barely covered body. They smirk at you as they type in the code to let you in. “Good luck, princess. You’re going to need it.” They evilly laugh as the door opens. Slowly, you walk in, your breath catching in your throat as you hear the steel door bang tightly shut behind you.

The room is dimly lit. A leather chair in one corner, a bed pressed against the wall, there’s a table with a half worked puzzle on it. It was so dreary, your heart aches for the poor guy that called this room home. You walk over to the table, running your hand over the puzzle. That’s when you feel it. Even though you couldn’t see him, you’re not alone. He’s in here with you, hid in the dark corners somewhere. You turn around to find him staring at you.

The Winter Soldier, Bucky Barnes, you had demanded to know his name before you did this. His dark hair hung in waves by his cheeks, his cold blue eyes focused on your body. He was beautiful. You weren’t used to seeing him without the black mask he usually wore. He was shirtless, his silver, metal arm catching your attention. You studied it. The way it looks like it was forcefully put on, the red star on his shoulder. He was always silent, brooding in the shadows. You had never been this close to him.

You reach for his face, wanting to feel him before all this started. His metal arm stops you, cold hand wrapping around your wrist. You squeak when he twists your arm behind your back, walking you toward the table.

He presses you against it, you feel his erection threatening to burst out of his black pants. One swipe of his free hand knocks the puzzle to the floor. Colorful pieces scatter all around you. He lifts you on top of the table, the cold surface making you gasp when your bare legs land on it.

Bucky holds you with his metal arm, the other one makes quick work of your flimsy robe. He grabs your breast through the thin fabric of your lingerie. You squirm under his touch as he pinches your nipple through the lace.

“You don’t know how bad I need this. Been a long time since I’ve had a pretty girl like you in my bed.” You’re shocked when he speaks to you. You had been warned that he wouldn’t talk to you at all. He takes a step back to look at you, zeroing in on your panties.

He pushes your back to the wall, commanding you to stay there. You obey, you didn’t want to upset him and make this worse for yourself. He holds your top in one hand, jerking the material. The sound of it’s ripping, startling you. He was crazy strong. The thought of being manhandled by him sounded better by the second.

Next was your panties, he stripped you of them quickly, pulling you by your legs to the edge of the table. He got on his knees before you, shoving his face to your core. He licks one fat stripe up your center, moaning as he tastes you. He swirls his tongue across your clit, you buck your hips up to get closer.

Bucky pushes you down with his metal arm, ensuring that you wouldn’t be able to move. You accept your fate, laying back as he laps at you. He fucks you with his tongue, his nose rubbing expertly against your sensitive nub. The band tightly wound in your stomach snaps as he drags his wicked tongue across your clit, sucking you between his lips. He doesn’t hold back his moans as your arousal floods his face.

When he emerges, his face is glistening because of you. He wipes it off with the back of his flesh hand. Bucky jerks you off the table, pointing to the cold, cement ground. “On your knees.” You sink down in front of him as he sheds his pants. You’re surprised he hadn’t already taken them off.

You shift on your knees, trying to get comfortable. He could at least offer you a pillow to kneel on or something. You look around, and spot the only one on his bed. You’re about to ask for it, when he pulls your hair roughly, jerking your head toward his throbbing cock. It was huge. The kind of big that would hurt. You open your mouth, trying to take all of him inside.

You choke and gag, spit dribbling down your chin onto your breasts as you struggle. He looks down at you, hand still tangled in your hair. Your jaw aches already and he’s just getting started. He thrusts his hips forward, pushing your head down simultaneously. Tears fill your eyes as he hits the back of your throat. You can’t help the sob that escapes you as he pulls out, only to forcefully push his way back in.

His thumbs follow the tears on your cheeks, your mascara pooling under your eyes making you look like a raccoon. “You look so pretty when you cry.” He coos, while looking at you adoringly. He thrusts three more times, your nails dig into his thighs, a silent plea to stop. He finally pulls out, collecting you from the floor and gently placing you on his bed.

He places one leg over his shoulder, lining himself up at your entrance. He pushes inside and it’s too much. “It’s- you’re too big.” You explain. Bucky moves your other leg, spreading you wider. “You’re gonna take all of it.” He grunts, wedging himself inside you, bottoming out with one thrust. He ignores your pained scream, leaning down to lick your fresh tears.

“So tight. So perfect. Just for me.” He praises in your ear. Finally, the pain subsides. Bucky feels incredible, his thick cock dragging against the spot that makes your head swim. A gush of arousal soaks him as he swirls his metal thumb in circles on your clit.

“Look at you, such a good girl, dripping all over my cock.” You moan, clenching around him, your long nails clawing his back, drawing blood as your second orgasm rips through you. His thrusts grow sloppy as you feel him go still inside you. His hot cum, drips down your legs as he withdraws himself from you.

Bucky swipes it with his index finger, rubbing it with his thumb. He brings it to your lips, you swirl your tongue around his long digit, loving the way he tastes. You’re caught off guard when his icy, metal hand collects as much cum as he can, stuffing it back inside you.

You twitch, trying to pull away from the cold hand on your heat. “Ah ah ah.” He scolds. He presses his cool thumb to your clit, toying with the oversensitive pearl. “You have to take every drop.” When he’s satisfied with his work, he makes you lay on your back so it doesn’t drip back out.

You close your eyes, the sweet promise of sleep taking over you. You are almost in dream land when you feel the familiar nudge of Bucky’s cock at your sore center. “What are you doing?” You ask, too tired to fight him. “I’m not finished with you yet, doll.” He smiles wickedly, snapping his hips to fill you again.

Tags

@lokisgoodgirl @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @ozymdias @cindylynn @cakesandtom @eleniblue @marygoddessofmischief @mochie85 @goblingirlsarah @wheredafandomat @freegardenbanananeck @lokidokieokie @l0ki3000 @multifandom-worlds @alexakeyloveloki @ladymischief11 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @lamentis-10 @loz-3 @litaloni @lulubelle814 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @avengersfan25 @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @mybugabomlb @bunny24sstuff @luthien-elvenia-asher @gruftiela @asgards-princess-of-mischief @weirdothatwritess