#if he’s the apple then what if im the worm that takes a bite out of him..

[hyunpic]

hyunjin’s failed apple hair

[j-j-ehlby-writes]

Dodger Knows Best

Pairing: Chris Evans x Wife!Reader

Word Count: ~1k

Summary: Dodger’s been acting strange since quarantine started. Does he know something that we don’t?

Warning: Fluff, of course

A/N: Inspired by Chris’s reading of “If You Give a Mouse a Cookie” at the beginning of COVID. Only took me a year to write 🙄

My Masterlist

I couldn’t stop giggling as I hear my husband reading aloud in the other room. I try my best not to make too much noise though, I don’t want to ruin the video. When he was asked to read a children’s book during this trying time we’re currently in, he couldn’t have said yes fast enough. Being the big kid he is, I know how excited he was to do it. 

Every day he finds new ways to give back to those who have lost their jobs and those who are missing school. He knows how important education is, especially right now. So he made it his goal to do at least one thing to help people per day during this quarantine.

Oh, what a wonderful world we live in right now...

This time spent at home has been much needed, but equally frustrating. I haven’t felt well for a few months now, prior to this pandemic. Getting to stay home, sleep in, not put on a bra or real clothes, cuddling my husband and our boy Dodger has been comforting. It’s frustrating that I’ve been stuck in the house, not able to leave for almost two weeks. The small amount of freedom that I get from walking Dodger is going to be taken away sooner rather than later in order to try and stop this pandemic.

Chris has enjoyed being home as much as I’ve loved having him home. However, I know he wants to get back to work. There are some projects he’s been most anxious to work on that are now on hold.

He’s been super protective of me since he’s been home. He’s insisted on doing anything that has to do with possibly interacting with another human being- getting groceries, take-out, other necessities. Dodger also hasn’t left my side since I’ve been home. Chris was insulted at first, claiming I stole his buddy. I just figured he was happy I was home.

“And chances are if he gets some apple juice, he’ll want a donut to go with it.”

I giggle again, unable to contain it. I hear the amusement in his tone as he concludes his video. I finish making lunch and join him in the living room, Dodger following at my feet. “How was it?”

“A little weird reading to my phone, but,” he smiles up at me, “I enjoyed it.”

“Are you going to read to our kids someday?” I set down his plate before sitting next to him.

“Abso-freaking-lutely! I can’t wait.” An even bigger smile took over his entire face as the thought crosses his mind. We’ve talked about having kids since before we got married. He loves being around his niece and nephews and it shows just how much he yearns for a family of his own. When we officially became a family of two plus Dodger, we immediately started trying. We’ve had some close calls, but all false alarms.

Until yesterday morning.

“How were those top secret errands you just had to do alone this morning?” He asks after taking a bite of his sandwich.

“That reminds me!” I get back up and head to the bedroom, where I hid a present in my side of the closet. I pull the plastic bag out from behind some of my maxi dresses, taking the contents out before bending down to Dodger. 

I struggle to put him in the small t-shirt I bought him. He’s a wiggle worm and wouldn’t stop trying to lick my face. Once it’s secure, I take my phone out, open the camera app and snap a few pictures before switching to video mode. 

After hitting the red record button, I stand up again. “Alright Dodger, let’s go get Daddy!” As I start walking, he’s just barely ahead of me. We head back into the living room.

He immediately cracks up when he sees Dodger with his new shirt. He asks how I even managed to get it on him, giving him some love and multiple kisses on his muzzle. I command for Dodger to sit, which he obeys. Chris kneels down to try and read what the shirt says. Dodger makes it hard since all he wants to do is lick Chris’s face. It takes a few tries before Dodger finally sits still enough for him to read it.

I wait with bated breath, biting my lips trying to hide the biggest smile. We’ve waited so long for this moment. I’ve imagined how I was going to tell him about a hundred times when it was finally confirmed and we were passed the safe mark.

He looks up at me with his mouth agape. “Are you serious?”

I peek from behind my phone and nod. “That’s what the errand was.”

“Wait, really?”

“I wanted to confirm it before telling you.” I hoped he wouldn’t be mad that I didn’t bring him to the first doctor’s appointment. With how many close calls we’ve had, I wanted to be doubly sure that it was happening before even getting remotely excited about the prospect.

“So, you’re sure?” He stands up and comes closer to me. “You’re pregnant?” The biggest smile I’ve ever seen on my husbands face takes over. I nod. “We’re having a baby?” I see the tears building in his eyes. He scoops me up in his arms. He spins around, exclaiming “We’re having a baby!”

“Now it all makes sense why Dodge hasn’t left my side.” Dogs have that kind of intuition. He must have sensed the change in me before even I knew what was happening.

“Of course he knew.” He rolls his eyes before turning his gaze down to the all-knowing pup. He sits there in his “Baby’s First Bodyguard” t-shirt, smiling up at us as if confirming that yes, he is the all-knowing. 

I guess Chris and I learned an important lesson: always listen to Dodger for he knows best.

~*~

Taglist: @the-marvel-wars​ @elusive-beauty​ @drakesfiance​ @im-a-slut-for-an-accent​ @fantasy-is-my-reality​ @princess-evans-addict​

[starkerscoop]

Three of a Kind (Ch. 18)

Ch. 17

If this looks familiar, it’s because I’m reposting it from the blog I deactivated.

Tag List: @shippingaddictbaby @sarcastich @the-melon-wanders @thegreenmetblue @im-a-goner-foryou @aoifelaufeyson @nerdylocksandthethreebears @baabyy @desolationho3 @cloakedpeach

-

Tony was having a hard time carrying on like nothing was wrong, but he had already resolved to pretend he didn’t know about Peter’s unfaithfulness. He’d decided, laying on their bed that night with stinging eyes, that he’d much rather have half of Peter’s heart than none at all. He tried uselessly to find the point in time where it all went wrong; what had he done to make Peter turn to someone else? Why wasn’t he enough?

He had to have done something wrong at some point. That was how it always went, after all.

He wasn’t able to figure out what made Peter stop loving him, though. Maybe Tony didn’t spend enough time with him; that would certainly explain why he felt the need to go to someone else for company. He must have been feeling neglected.

Or maybe he’d come to his senses and realized that Tony was far too old for him, too jaded. And so, the kind boy that he was, he pretended that he was still happy with him, and quietly went searching for someone who could truly fulfill his needs.

What did Molly have that he didn’t? What was he doing wrong?

He decided that he would do better. He would make Peter love him again, make him see that he didn’t need Molly. Tony could give him everything; he had never imagined telling him ‘no’ to begin with.

So, to start off his attempts at being better, he snuck to the kitchen half an hour before Peter was due to wake up and made him breakfast. He placed his—only slightly burned—omelet on a silver tray, before filling up a mug with coffee and adding it too. Looking around the kitchen, he spotted a bowl of red apples, a couple of which he cut up before placing them onto the tray. He carried the tray to their bedroom, leaving it on his nightstand before crawling over to Peter and straddling his waist.

He started bending down to kiss him, but hovered over his lips, unsure. Had Peter kissed Molly before? It didn’t matter, he decided, and closed the distance between them. Whether he’d kissed her or not, Peter was his, first. That had to give him some kind of claim on his kisses.

Peter came to in a matter of seconds, smiling against Tony’s lips and pulling him closer, so that they were laying chest-to-chest. Tony pulled away reluctantly, announcing to Peter, “I made you breakfast in bed.”

Peter’s eyes opened in surprise. “You didn’t have to.”

He did. He really, really did.

“I know,” Tony reached over to the nightstand and picked up the tray, climbing off of Peter so that he could rest the tray on his stomach. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“And it’s edible?” a teasing smile flickered on Peter’s lips.

A new insecurity wormed its way into Tony. Was it his cooking that had Peter looking for a different partner? Was Molly a good cook?

“It’s edible,” Tony confirmed, uncharacteristically quiet.

Peter picked up an apple slice and nudged it against Tony’s mouth, saying, “You need to eat, too.”

Tony accepted it with no complaints, chewing on the fruit as he watched Peter take his first bite of the omelet.

“What do you think?” Tony asked tentatively.

Peter blew him a kiss. “It’s amazing. Thank you, Tony.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart,” Tony reminded, and hoped that his eyes conveyed just how much he meant that.

Peter grinned and set his fork down, taking hold of Tony’s arms to pull him into a hug. Tony moved the tray onto the sheets and took its place, settling on Peter’s lap and slinging his arms over his shoulders. He tucked his head into the crook of Peter’s neck, sighing contentedly.

Step one to getting Peter to love him again seemed to have been a success.

“Do we have everything we need for tomorrow?” Tony asked later that day, when they were all eating lunch.

“Yes, Daddy,” Morgan nodded excitedly. “Do you think the firefighters will let me be one too when they see my costume?”

“Maybe when you’re older,” Tony told her, wiping absentmindedly at the sauce on her chin with his sleeve, before a new thought struck him.

Did Peter not love him anymore because of how gross he was? Parenthood had made him lose a lot of his inhibitions, after all. The penthouse was often messy and cluttered, because no one could find the time to properly clean it up. Maybe he should hire a house cleaning service. In addition to that, he’d stopped feeling disgusted by many of the bodily fluids that would have had him reeling back in the past. Having a child did that to a person.

Hopefully, Peter would understand that, and wouldn’t hold it against him.

Halloween came the next day, and with it, a lot of impatience on Morgan’s part. Seeing as it was a Sunday, none of them had work or school, and so Morgan was ready to go trick-or-treating at the crack of dawn. She came running in before either Tony or Peter were awake, bouncing on their bed until they woke up.

Another thought had his chest tightening in a matter of seconds. Was there a chance that Peter had stopped loving him because of Morgan? Perhaps he was tired of having his sleep interrupted by a skittish child. Or he’d changed his mind entirely about being a parent, and hadn’t had the heart to tell him.

“Daddy, get up!” Morgan whined, pulling at him with all her might. “We’re not gonna get any candy if we’re late.”

“People trick-or-treat in the evenings, Morgan,” Peter told her, hiding his head under his pillow in an attempt to fall back asleep.

“Oh,” Morgan stopped pulling. “But I want to trick-or-treat now.”

“Nobody’s handing out candy yet,” Tony said, unwillingly climbing out of bed before telling Peter, “You can keep sleeping, Pete. I’ll take care of her.”

There was no way he was making Peter do anything he didn’t have to—not now that he was trying to get Peter to see that he was a competent lover. He could do everything Molly did, and more.

It didn’t matter to him if Peter loved Molly; it did, really, but he was trying to convince himself that it didn’t. As long as he still loved Tony partially, still lived with him, didn’t make it a point to show that he’d been with Molly, Tony would push down his hurt and his anger. And no hickeys. If Tony had to see any evidence of Molly’s presence...well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be anything good.

He knew that the right thing to do in this situation was to end their relationship. To kick Peter out, to cut ties with him completely, and try to explain to Morgan that her papa wasn’t hers after all. But Tony couldn’t stomach even the idea of doing any of that. He needed Peter in his life, would fall apart completely without him, and that wasn’t something he could do for both his own sake and Morgan’s.

So, yes, he would ignore the pain and anger and betrayal. For himself and for his daughter.

They went trick-or-treating that evening, Morgan in her firefighter costume, DUM-E in his WALL-E get-up, and Tony and Peter in their matching vampire outfits. Everything was going great. Morgan and DUM-E's shared plastic pumpkin was almost completely filled up with candy, Peter was pointing out every cool costume and decoration they walked past, and Tony was just about managing not to stare at all the women in their vicinity, wondering which one was the one Peter was seeing behind his back.

The greatness of it all faded when they crossed paths with a woman in a sultry devil costume, clutching the hand of a little girl dressed as a dragon.

The woman spotted them first, walking their way with a beaming smile on her painted lips, calling out, “Peter!”

Tony recognized her immediately. Her picture had burned its way into his brain, leaving behind a scalding mark. This was Molly, the woman Peter loved more than him, the woman that had managed to capture his attention in a way that Tony seemingly couldn’t.

“Oh, hey, Molly,” Peter greeted her, tucking Morgan away from the road and into his side, ensuring that she wouldn’t run away in search of more candy.

“You didn’t text me back,” Molly pouted, her lashes fluttering ever so slightly.

Yeah, Tony thought smugly, because I deleted both the nude and the text while Peter was asleep. One point for Tony.

“I didn’t get any texts, sorry,” Peter apologized, before turning and tugging Tony forward by the hand. “This is Tony, my boyfriend.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tony said curtly.

“Oh,” Molly eyed him in disdain. “Nice to meet you too.”

She looked back at Peter, inching closer to place a delicate hand on his bicep. Tony had to physically restrain the urge to slap her hand off, moving instead to subtly lean into Peter’s side, getting in the way of her hand and forcing her to move back.

“Do you think we could join groups?” she asked Peter, completely ignoring Tony. “We’ve still got a while to go until Tia’s satisfied with how much candy she got.”

“We’re done, actually,” Tony cut in, glaring at her. “We’re on our way home now.”

“We are?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows, before finally taking the hint. “Oh, yeah, we are. Sorry, Molly.”

“It’s okay,” Molly stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on Peter’s cheek, staining it with her red lipstick. “Make sure to call me later.”

Peter watched her leave with wide eyes, surprise etched on his face. He rubbed at the lipstick on his cheek, annoyed when it smeared onto his hand. Tony seethed, starting the walk back home with Morgan and Peter trailing behind him.

The nerve of that woman. It was fine, really. Tony would just make sure to send Peter off with a bruised and bitten neck the next time he had to see her.

When they came home, Peter went to the bathroom to rinse off the lipstick, which had Tony feeling slightly gratified. Tony left their home a couple of hours after they returned, his costume still in place, as he was heading to the Avengers’ Halloween party. He made sure to give Peter several kisses before he left, hoping that they would be enough to keep him from calling Molly while he was gone.

When he came home from the party, he was beyond drunk, falling out of the elevator and onto the living room floor. Peter scurried towards him, lifting him off of the ground and into his arms.

“Tony,” Peter worried, carrying him to their bedroom. “Why’d you drink so much?”

There went all his progress; he’d disappointed Peter again. He curled closer to Peter, holding onto him tightly in hopes that the embrace would somehow make up for his mistakes.

“I really hope you didn’t drive home,” Peter said, setting him gently on the bed.

Tony’s focus blurred out then, and all he saw was the silhouette of a man in the dark shadows of the room, whose hands were now pulling Tony’s pants down. Tony slapped at his hands blindly, squirming away from them. Where had Peter gone?

“You can’t have sex with me,” Tony told the figure tenaciously. “I’m in a relationship.”

“I’m not trying to have sex with you,” the man said. “I just need to get you comfortable so you can sleep.”

Tony didn’t hear him, though, and kept babbling. “Though maybe I should let you. It’s not like my boyfriend loves me anymore. You know he’s fucking someone else?”

The hands stilled at the hem of Tony’s shirt, which they had been preparing to take off.

“I really thought this one would last,” Tony said mournfully, “but I don’t want to break up with him. I don’t care that he’s cheating on me. I mean, I do, but at least this way, he’s still here with me. I’m okay with sharing if it means I can still have him. I’ll make myself okay with it, anyway.”

The hands dropped his shirt then, too shaky to maintain their grip.

“I just love him so much,” Tony cried. “I really thought he loved me too.”

With that, the haze grew stronger, surrounding Tony and swallowing him up.

He fell asleep.

[all-about-seggs]

Unraveling Desires :

Rating - 18+, Mature

Pairing - Gojo Satoru x female reader

Word count - 1.4k

Warning's - Smut, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, fingering, Virgin!reader, Female reader, I wanted to add a bit of corruption kink but I don't think I did a good job. Satoru is being a gentle dom.

Your room was quite except for the wet smacking of Satoru's lips against yours. With just a few more seconds left before you start to feel breathless, he would notice for sure but won't stop, loving to push your limits as much as he can and today was no exception.

His hands kept roaming around your clothed thighs in soft circular motions as if to make you feel more at ease, though you both knew it was having the opposite effect. Usually you stopped him before his hands made any contact with your bare skin but you had already decided even before inviting him to your place, that you were ready to take the next step. It's quite the feat actually, how you controlled yourself all this time.

Every movement his big mascular hands made, every bob of his Adam's apple when you two had your lunch dates, every kiss from his soft pink lips was irresistible and undeniably sexy. And the worst part? He knew what he was doing to you and was ruthless in his ministrations.

" Hooooo~ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) what are you thinking y/n chan?" he cooed, keeping his tone light and teasing, to make you blush.

You wanted to do a lot more than kissing from the start but the fact that you had zero experience along with your boyfriend's cocky nature made it difficult for you to openly admit your thirst for him.

"...... Hmmm y/n, you're not go stop me today?" Satoru's question brought you back to reality before your mind could continue with its fantasy.

This was it. He gave you the perfect chance to decide what would happen tonight. Regardless of his love for pushing your buttons he respected your decisions and would ask for you after every heavy makeout session, whether you wanted to continue or not.

The answer was clear to you this time,

" I don't want you to stop", you muttered, stifly looking him in the eye. A sultry look would've been better but it's hard to muster up the courage for that when you're face to face with Satoru's beautiful azure eyes. The blindfold he usually dons, long discarded on the floor.

Something about having his eyes on you makes you feel completely naked even with all the cloths you have on. He doesn't miss a single chance when it comes to making you squirm. A few seconds pass before he finally grabs the hem of your t-shirt,

" You wanna do this naked right?" Satoru asks again, smirking from ear to ear. He just wants to make you as desperate as possible, begging for his touch, to pump his already over inflated ego, as the self proclaimed honoured one, it's only natural his little sweetness would want to bare herself to him and only him .

He pulls the garment off as soon as you give a shy nod, throwing it on the floor, he swiftly worms his way to your bra while kissing up your neck. He takes your outfit apart piece after piece untill there is nothing left to hide. He props himself up on his knees to admire your naked body splayed out beneath him.

Its nothing short of embarrassing for you, to be stared at like this but you'd be a hypocrite if you said you didn't liked having all of your boyfriend's attention.

" What a pretty body you have my sweet, all untouched, now why don't you be a good girl and tell me all the dirty thoughts you think you've hidden from me, hmmm?", Lowering himself to rest his face on your chest he continues in a hushed voice,

"Oh and keep them unfiltered.... I'd rather your first time be to your liking....... Don't worry about being unreasonable, cuz I can make anything happen", there was arrogance in his tone, as always.

" I just wanted to do this with you, for a long time, and I feel like we've both waited enough so please....just touch me.." you said, desperation clear in your voice and Satoru finally gives in, moving towards your breast, he takes your left nipple in his mouth, licking the soft bud untill it hardens, his other hand roaming to your hips.

" Say, Y/n..... Have you touched your self before?", Pulling his mouth from your boob with a pop, he asks, leaving you a little stunned.

"Ngh- n-no.... I haven't", as soon as those words slip from your mouth his eyes light up, giving them an otherworldly glow.

"I see, so this is gonna be the first time you cum then....." His voice grows distant and soon he's in between your thighs. He gently parts your legs, staring intently at your core.

" No need to be embarrassed sugar, I'm gonna make you feel good", his reassuring words were oddly arousing, keeping both his hands on your inner thighs, he latches his mouth on your pussy giving your slit a long, smooth lick.

Your moans are inevitable at this point as he keeps his focus on your clit, altering between sucking on it and licking your tight virgin hole. He makes sure you feel all the slick gathering in your pussy as he slurps on it like a man starved and soon the only voices in the room are of your stifled moans and his obscene way you eating you out.

Moving one hand to your folds, he slides one slick covered finger into your tiny cunt, another new sensation along with the one his tongue is creating is too much to bear as you let out coarse moan,

Lifting his cum smeared face, Satoru's blue eyes stare at your face through his disheveled bangs, you look so cute, your pathetic attempts to bite back the sounds of pleasure, moist eyes and your face that looks like it's going to explode if he doesn't make you cum, it's all so pure. He can't help the sadism that's building up inside him, his need to tease you more growing with every second.

" Don't hold back y/n~ I want to hear how good I'm giving it to you and I want you to tell me when you cum okay?♡", his voice is so sweet you'd think he's talking to a toddler. His head dives back to your folds as soon as you uncover your mouth and the next thing you know, a throbbing sensation is taking hold your your nether region.

" Sa- Satoru.... Im fe- feeling it......", You choke out a few words of warning before he adds another finger in your hole, taking his long, thick fingers in and out untill you start to stretch by his ministrations.

You're first orgasm was overwhelming, making you clench your thighs and pussy around him, moving your hips against his face until you come down from your high.

You're panting with your eyes closed and mouth open as Satoru pulls himself up, wiping his face with the back of his hand he states down at you, looking all blissed out with such a lewd look on your face that nobody but him has ever seen. It makes his cock twitch with excitement.

" I hope this wasn't all you wanted, because we have a lot more to do~ "

You open your eyes to see your boyfriend already half naked in front of you, he smoothly takes off his pants and underwear, his hard cock laid out in front of you for the first time. You wanted to stare, hell, you are staring, it looks just as pretty as the rest of him, intimidating too because of its size.

" Are you ready y/n?, Because it's time I get my fill of you as well, so relax for me", kneeling in between your thighs again, he strokes himself a few more times before lining himself in front of your entrance.

You give a reassuring nod before he slowly eases himself into you with a low groan, the stretch is painful and long as he bottoms out. Seeing your face twisting in pain he stops and waits for you to adjust to his size.

" How are you doing my love?" He asks, his tone an octave lower, sounds even more tempting when he's speaking right into your ear,

"Yeah..... Its okay", you look up at him and he feels himself twitching inside you, he's also been very patient so as to not rush you. Never objecting when you asked him to stop whenever you had your makeout sessions. You trusted him with yourself, that's why it was easier to tell him your desires.

" Please make me feel good".

[mypersonmyg]

cherry blossom | jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg15

wc: 2k (yes it is a drabble shut up)

warnings: swearing

summary: spring is blooming and so are you OR he loves the beanie you knitted for his round ass head

a/n: hello, hi, hey...is this good? idk, but i wrote it because im trying to do that again; this is based on the tebori tapioca couple because i really like them a lot...ALSO i said i would write about beanie boy and here he is :D

tebori tapioca

masterlist

Petals dipped in white are decorated in the jagged pink crawling from the root of thin strengthened stems fluttering like wisps from trees freshly bloomed to kiss at your cheeks, tilted upward toward a sky painted in streaks of voluminous clouds. You lift one hand to trace the expanse of day, finger a brush concentrated on the perfect mural, eyes zeroed to see the work of the blue plained aerial. You grasp a stray petal mid-air, charting the exposure of edges fragile and torn from the efflorescent cherry blossom, its trunk the perfect home for the boy whose head appears anywhere but the moment. 

You bring the petal to trace his cheeks seeking the protrusion of his nose, effectively startling the stupor that held him captive. His eyes dance the length of your arm up to your collar, landing on your own gaze in wonder, always amazed by  feelings that engulf him like licking flames. He tilts his head until the warmth of his cheek rests in the palm of your hand, cradling perfection and its questioning peep. 

“Sorry,” You murmur, thumb soothing circles into pliable skin, eyes doubled in apology despite the fondness stretching the muscles of his face, tugging at the edges of his lids. 

“Don’t be,” He hushes plucking the petal, blowing it into the subtle breeze that kicks at the skin of your ankles, traveling the length of your leg, ignorant to the tingle that already resides from the steady grip of a tattooed hand tracing the skin exposed from the ride up of your hoodie. “We came here to be together and I’m zoning out.”

You crook your arm into the grass, still damp from the press of morning dew, petals sticking to your palm as you push forward, Jeongguk cautiously tightening at your waist. The hand that still rests against his cheek sneakily climbs to tendrils peeking from beneath the beanie dressing his head, black knitted and all consuming, wrapping the strands of curls between nimble fingers and urging him to press his lips to your own. 

“I don’t mind, I’d rather sit with you in complete silence than listen to Jimin complain about whatever it is he was complaining about today.” You speak after the first heady press, foreheads gathered in collective rest, lashes just missing with each flutter. You can barely recall the words tumbling forward, but you can count on the attentive nature of your chosen lover to keep you on track, his eyes never missing the beat of your quivering lips. 

“Hmm, but i wanna give you all of my attention.” He pulls you so you’re falling, forcing you onto his lap of denim, your arms finding rest around his broad shoulders. He nestles his head into the crook of your neck, bringing light to the fabric engulfing his head of curls. 

It’s a recent niche, the adornment of the extra layer, a gift from you meant to reside on the side of winter wardrobe. It dresses him well, mirror selfies and dates spent walking the string lit streets of your cozy strip not without the attention of head-on-a-swivel passersby. You don’t mind the look or the attention that you believe present without the added statement, but you often miss the ease of a hand through thick curls and the added volume on humid occasions. 

“Now who’s zoning?” Jeongguk teases, nudging the underside of your chin, fingers retreating to avoid your gentle nip. 

“I was just thinking about you,” Your words are spoken with lips folding inward to rest between the set of your teeth, hands tugging at the top of his hat, almost pulling it free before he swats at your offending limb tugging it back into place. 

“Oh yeah?” You arch into him when a sudden gust of wind wraps around your bodies, biting at your arms left exposed by your insistence of warmth from the saturation of rays that swallow you whole, only missing direct contact by Jeongguk’s insistence that you seek refuge in the crowding branches of the beautiful earthy growth of the ascending blossom. 

“Yeah, you and your beanie. Why won’t you let me see your cute ass head, you nerd?” 

“Excuse me? I like the beanie, it was a gift you know.” 

He’s proud of his counter, head resting against the trunk of the tree before he’s suddenly guiding you from his lap to join in the jump to his feet. You’re like jello, too long spent lounging in the thick of your bubbled comfort, nearly knocking into him out of the habit of proximity and lack of control over your physical being. 

“Not only was it a gift,” He continues, clasping your hands, swinging it between you as you once more find the path riddled with abandoned flowers and the remnants of blades from grass freshly mowed, the smell still lingering with each foot forward. He brings your connected palms to press to his lips, holding them in place for a momentary hum before your nerves are tingling under the sensation and you're trying your hardest to pull away amidst  squealish giggling. “It was handmade.” 

You stutter, feet catching at the tip, threatening to eat concrete were it not for the quick reflexes and unbridled strength of Jeongguk’s arms. He drags you from the center of the path, the resounding tinkering of a child’s bike bell screaming to make way for the train of tasseled training wheels that are suddenly on your trail. It gives you time to recompose, Jeongguk far too busy waving in kind at each passing darling regarding him with various poked tongues and toothy grins. 

“Babe, you good?” He finally returns his attention, the rough pad of his thumb coming to swipe at the hairs that fall from the folded lip of the beanie, tickling at the plains of his forehead that hold just enough sheen from the day's heat to allow the dense fibers to stick to his skin. You fight the temptation to replace his hand with your own, always happy to feel him beneath you, feening for the closeness of closed doors and your head tucked beneath his chin, fingers tracing the ever defining muscles that tease through his t-shirt. 

“I’m fine...I just didn’t realize you noticed.” You shield yourself in the thick of his hoodie, tugging the sleeve to hide your eyes from his prying gaze and infectious grin. You question your own sanity when the remembrance of his attentive nature and the dreamy sigh he’d emitted upon the first snug of the thick fabric to his skull, only compliments spewing thereafter. 

“That I noticed...?” You’re dim witted to the point of ignorance, though his bait works as your face slowly unsticks from the dark material eating his chest, replacing your face with the wrap of your knuckles and the avoidance of eye contact in favor of tracking a peculiar worm inching toward fresh dirt. 

“Koo…” You whine, the nickname and high pitched yearning a new habit Jeongguk has taken in kind. His adoration for you only grows more with each day, your habits taking hold of him like the magnet that you are, an attraction unyielding and all consuming. Some would say that it’s a sickness, but the rapid pump of his love organ and the coos that ooz from him with the precision of a clock at your every utterance feels wholesome.

You’re home, a refuge after long days of piping tea and pounds of tapioca, waist deep in the give and take of the service industry. The only being that makes him feel like giving his all is no effort wasted, always looking for more ways to please even with your assurance that just  halfway makes your heart soar into a galaxy of his own making. 

So he grips you tight and reels you in, inhaling the scent of the light shampoo that laces your scalp and pretends that your whines are only an amusement, a reason for the further push of his pestering. His hands trace the peak of your shoulder blades, easing them of the tension from your bout of shyness. 

“Love, why wouldn’t I notice? Why do you think I love to wear it so much?” 

“Because you’re perfect,” You melt, shuffling on the balls of your feet, hands shoved into his pockets to hold steady in a world constantly rotating around you, dressed in whites and pinks, the songs of birds humming in the trees that arch above you. “But seriously, how did you know? I didn’t say anything because I don’t think it’s very good and I almost didn’t even give it to you because—”

“It’s perfect.” He cuts your words with his own followed by a kiss, much longer than the one previous, your face heating under the awareness that you’re no longer shielded by bud kissed branches in your own corner of the world. The same corner that started it all just months prior. 

Your palms rest against his chest, a gentle pat urging him to part from you despite your own inward cries of the opposite. He obliges, a smile of coyness splayed along his cheeks, pushing at the scar that kisses the apples of his skin. 

“What?” 

“I did notice an attempt at the stitching of initials under the lip...still need some practice I see—”

“Love, that’s so mean!” Your pats previously gentle now offer as much force as  you can muster, easily sending him staggering on his feet, too consumed by his own childish laughter at your rather rugged stitchwork, a poor attempt at further customization. “Ugh, I didn’t think you would notice.” 

He pulls the beanie from his head, hair falling in a mess of dark curl that traces the frame of his cheeks, somehow rounder today than the chiseled jaw that you often find ingrained in your memory. You ache to take him between your palms, a smattering of kisses stored for later use when you aren’t teetering the precipice of embarrassment. A feeling of routine self indulgence that is altogether useless under the watchful eyes of the dream before you.

He delicately dips his finger into the folded hem of the hat, lengthening the elastic trim that suctions around him to keep it secure around his head. He traces the thread that just barely makes out the letters initialling his name, imagining the formation of your lips as you repeat the two syllables with the puncture and withdraw of every stitch. 

It’s clear as the blue dyed sky, the vivid poke of your lips when you realize the curve of the ‘J’ is more of a divot than a definition but push on to the ‘K’. You only add the extra inches when your mind begins to overthink when in truth he’ll love anything from your hands, from your mind and the blood pumping through your veins. 

It wasn’t the accidental revelation of the stitching when he pulled it from the first wash that clued him in. The fabric unfurled from its position of origin, the letters staring back, accented with the perfect attempt at a heart stitched in white. 

No, he finds solace in the patch of thread missing from the edge of the shape meant to mimic the geometry of the organ itself.

It speaks true to the way he feels when he’s not with you, like his heart couldn’t possibly be whole when he’s not taking in the breathlessness of your laugh or the way you pout his name without warning. 

It was the tremor in your hands as you delivered the gift wrapped in faux gold, edges of the paper curled from the lack of a package and a mind too jumbled to think of a bag. Your delivery paired with the fumble of words hushed in rushed breath was clue enough of your attempt at discretion.

It’s in these moments, hat in hand and your eyes scrutinizing the thing when you’d told him how handsome it made him look just weeks prior. He gently pinches the scrunch of your nose, forcing your eyes to his own, hat pulled back over his head. 

He doesn’t miss the quirk of your lips, the hat no longer an object of disdain when it's a part of him. The day you met was the day that you made your place within him and it's in moments like these that he feels whole. 

“I can’t believe you thought for a second that I wouldn’t.”

[thewritingstar]

98 that’s a lot of questions I wonder if you could answer them all 🤔🙃

*Deep sigh and putting my hands together* BOI IF YOU DON’T THINK I CAN ANSWER ALL THESE BITCHES!! YOU COME INTO MY ASK BOX AND TELL ME “i WONDER” HOE DON’T WONDER ANYMORE. 

don’t come for me like this anon.....here ya go. 

smh

i answered all of these and it took forever so yall better read this shit

enjoy bitch

--

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

-Mugs

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

-both im a sugar addict

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

-bubblegum

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

-prob either really quiet or really loud

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

-I hate soda

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

-I really like pastel and goth styles

7. earbuds or headphones?

-earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

-Both

9. favorite smell in the summer?

-Vanilla

10. game you were best at in p.e.?

-Flag Football (stealing the flags) and badminton

11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?

-dont really eat in the mornings but prob granola bar or left overs

12. name of your favorite playlist?

-Shower lol

13. lanyard or key ring?

-lanyard

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

-Sour gummi worms..that shit is CRACK

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

-Great Gatsby

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

-apple sauce or on one leg

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

-all black converse

18. ideal weather?

-warm and sunny

19. sleeping position?

-stomach, side, in a ball

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

-Laptop or phone

21. obsession from childhood?

-My little pony, littlest pet shop, Disney, elephants, Chinese food

22. role model?

-Tara Strong, Walt Disney, Francis Dominic 

23. strange habits?

-tugging my hair, biting my nails, wiggling on my heels like a penguin and going up stairs on all fours (when im home)

24. favorite crystal?

-answered

25. first song you remember hearing?

-American idiot- Green Day

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

-Eat 

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

-Eat

28. five songs to describe you?

-idk Cartoon theme songs lol

29. best way to bond with you?

-make me laugh or talk about disney

30. places that you find sacred?

-Flower gardens

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

-anything with my high heel boots

32. top five favorite vines?

-Road Work Ahead, Oh my god he on X Game mode, What the Fuck Richard, This house is fucking nightmare!, Happy one year babe! Im 27. 

33. most used phrase in your phone?

-YEET, Yall and bitch

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

-Stanley Steamer, The First5California.com song 

35. average time you fall asleep?

-now its 12 am -1 am... use to be like 10pm

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

-oh god that was so long ago i dont even know but it was one of the first ones like pepe or some some

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

-suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

-raspberry ice tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

-dont like lemon in my desserts 

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

-A condom was thrown on my desk in french class (it was unopened thank god)

41. last person you texted?

-my mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

-Jacket pockets

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

-HOODIE

44. favorite scent for soap?

-Vanilla or tropical

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

-Superhero

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

-Big shirt and no shorts (underwear obvi)

47. favorite type of cheese?

-I fucking hate cheese

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

-Strawberry or Lemon

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

-Its always fun to do the impossible- Walt Disney

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

-For my birthday my friend got my a “Sorry for your loss” card and i cried for 30 mins

51. current stresses?

-um everything..college and being the only snacc in my household

52. favorite font?

-comic sans

53. what is the current state of your hands?

-Still have both of them

54. what did you learn from your first job?

-That people are assholes 

55. favorite fairy tale?

-Disneys Rapunzel 

56. favorite tradition?

- My grandma got all the grandkids pjs on Christmas eve every year and we would wear them to sleep 

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

-Anxiety, Depression (sorta), Dropping my churro on the ground at Disneyland

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

-Quick Wit, Art abilities?, Standing on my head and making weird ass noises

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

-Already answered

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

-A really cool and cute magical one!!

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

-From Once Upon A Time, honestly they ave the best quotes. “So when I win your heart, Emma- and i will win it-it will not be because of any trickery, but because you want me”- Killian orrrrrrr He smells like forest”- Regina

62. seven characters you relate to?

-Juvia (FairyTail), Star (SVTFOE), Mabel (Gravity Falls), Maybec (Kingdom Keepers, sassy and artistic), Bubbles and Blossom (PPG) and Belle (beauty and the beast)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

-Boyfriend: BTR, Dancings not a crime: Panic!, Bang bang: Jessie, Ari and Nicki, Read you, wrote you: Drag race lol and Busted from Phineas and Ferb because I can

64. favorite website from your childhood?

-Webkinz, PetPetPark (STILL SALTY ABOUT IT) Club Penguin, Build a bear, Poptropica, i played every game yall

65. any permanent scars?

-only emotionally 

66. favorite flower(s)?

-Roses and water lilies..and every flower cause they pretty.. oh Dahlias too

67. good luck charms?

-petting my dogs. 

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

-Mango anything or Cherry. I hate cherry flavoring. 

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

-I have a great memory so i usually remember how i learned it, but.. Did you know that the water on the Jungle Cruise in Disneyland is 3 feet deep and dyed brown? Plus the water in all the parks is a special mix that doesn't contain chlorine because alot of people are allergic so its safe to touch? (learn from a disney doc)

70. left or right handed?

-right

71. least favorite pattern?

-those ugly ones on leggings.

72. worst subject?

-Math or english (haha and i like to write)

73. favorite weird flavor combo?

-Grapes and teriyaki sauce. if they on the plate. ill just dip them in. I have an addiction to teriyaki sauce. 

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

-I dont take any unless I have my period and my cramps are usually at a 10 so i try and take it when they at a 5

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

-when i was young 

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

-I LOVE potatos: Fries and mash are best plus baked. I HATE chips thou

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

-Any bright flower or ivy

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

-coffee, dont like sushi

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

-AHHHH my license is soooooo bad. I had strips of red in my hair (got it when i was 15-16) and i didnt know they took your pic at your permit test. Its awful. School is def better and my senior photo pops. 

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

-Jewel

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

-Fireflys (arent they the same?)

82. pc or console?

-Console 

83. writing or drawing?

-Both but im better at writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

-Podcasts but I dont listen to alot. 

84. barbie or polly pocket?

-I played more with Littlest Pet Shop and My Little Pony lol (i have 400) prob Barbie thou

85. fairy tales or mythology?

-oooooooofffff cant decide

86. cookies or cupcakes?

-oooooff i love both but cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

-wasting my life away.....or heights...certain bugs

88. your greatest wish?

-to be happy and have all my dreams (life, job, romance,etc) happen. Plus going to every Disney Park in the world.

89. who would you put before everyone else?

-Depends on the situation but sometimes you need to take care of yourself before others. If you arent doing good, how the hell you suppose to take care of others. 

90. luckiest mistake?

-hmmm idk being born

91. boxes or bags?

-depends on what im carrying but prob bags

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

-I love fairy lights

93. nicknames?

-any mispronunciation of my name, Dean, Big D (yes people call me this), Star, Sassafras and some more that yall dont get to know :) You can give me a nickname if ya want

94. favorite season?

-Spring and Summer

95. favorite app on your phone?

-Tumblr, Snapchat, Tsum Tsum 

96. desktop background?

- Its items from super mario and mario kart

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

- Eight

98. favorite historical era?

-oof im a history buff but I do love Greek and Roman because I love mythology...Maybe even 1800s.

hi if you got to the end of this then I love you and for proof leave me a 🐰

[authorellenmint]

“Kieran!”

My voice didn’t have a hope to rise above the cacophony of children bleeding into the orchard. An entire mass of them moved like locusts descending upon the feast, their parents long since left behind to trudge up the hill.

Only my son glanced back, the sea of taller children threatening to consume him. While I hoped he’d wait, the allure proved too much. In an instant, he turned on his heels and scampered towards a tree. Three other children flocked the branches, most taller than my boy. Kieran ducked down and scampered closer to the trunk, his hands scrabbling for the blushing apples hidden amongst the leaves.

“Your father is acquiring a bucket right now,” I sighed, glancing towards the twisting line of parents left to pay for the privilege of bringing in the farmer’s crop. A rather satisfying deal on their end.

A giggle of joy drew me from the manure-stench of the barn to gaze upon an unending field of apple trees. They fanned out like autumn’s army waiting for orders to march upon the winter forest. My boy’s hands cupped to his chest, a red apple bigger than both his palms cradled safely. The exuberant eyes of an ever distracted seven-year-old shattered expectations by honing upon the apple and refusing to lift. As Kieran laughed again, I accepted that the long drive, the trek out to some bird-woman’s farm, and the threat of tick embedding was worth it for his smile.

I let my eyes drift off Kieran, about to look for his father, when a hand whipped through the air and plunged greedy fingers to his apple. “Hey!” Kieran shouted, trying to protect his get while the larger boy puffed himself up.

“Gimme that! It’s mine.”

“Is not. I found it,” my son shouted, trying to tuck the apple in safer to his chest. Which was when the bully slapped at his hand. Still Kieran wouldn’t acquiesce, even with a pink handprint rising from where that monster struck my son. My gait elongated, thunderstorms trailing my steps towards the children.

“Give it now!” the cretin shrieked. Greedy fingers dug into both the flesh of the apple and my son’s. It proved too much as Kieran cried, the sound rattling my soul, and he released the apple into the bully’s hands.

“Ha!” the child crowed, holding aloft his prize as if he earned it. Piggish eyes narrowed upon my boy and the bully yanked his hand back to slap Kieran once more.

My fingers snaked around the child’s wrist, holding it tight above his head. He screamed as if my grip was lava. How I wished it were so, but aside from keeping the monster from doing as he wanted, I caused him no harm.

I stared into the black eyes of the child, chaos and cruelty already sewn into the makeup of someone not yet ten. “Do not hit my son or you shall suffer beyond imagination.” My tone must have punctured through even that Dunning-Krueger armor as the child nodded dumbly. “And return that which you stole.”

The bully glanced towards Kieran, who held both his hands out, but he flinched from doing the right thing. With a sigh, I plucked the apple free and held it far above the child’s head. “You should be punished for such atrocities,” I muttered, releasing the boy’s arm.

“Oi! Let go of ‘im!”

My eyes rolled at the voice ordering me to do that which I already did. Turning, I spotted a mass of a man stumbling towards me. He wore all his strength in his gut, as if he’d swallowed every ego-boosting lie, every assurance from society that he was important, and honestly believed them. His legs hustled up the hill as I folded my arms, the apple tucked safely in my palm. I shifted to hide Kieran from view as the creator of the child bully thundered towards us.

“Don’t you fucking dare touch my kid!” he shrieked.

“Perhaps you should try parenting your child, then the rest of us wouldn’t need to bother.”

Red splotches formed over his face like mold sporing upon a film of fat. He tried to puff his deflated chest out as if I’d be either impressed or scared. Knowing what was to come, I turned to Kieran and told him, “Go and pick some more apples.”

“Yes, Mummy,” he mumbled, shuffling away from both me and the man who should be shooting steam from his nose. I maintained my typical cool-exterior which was only enflaming him more.

“Hey! Hey, get him back here! Your snotty brat stole from my kid!”

The kid in that situation fell silent, no longer wishing to use either his words or fists. No, it was all on the father, the larger copy as it were, to attempt to browbeat me into giving him what he wanted.

“You mean this apple that my child in fact picked and your son then hit mine in order to thieve away?” I lofted the apple before the man’s face, his eyes bulging as I didn’t cower and plead for him to forgive me. Men of his ilk feasted upon women who shackled themselves to the cult of nice. Against me, he had no power. Not that he had any to begin with.

His lip curled, as if the man intended to rip my throat out with his teeth. “Bitch whore, dressed like a slut. You aren’t gonna tell me a fucking thing.”

“As it would be a waste of both our time,” I responded, eyeing up the man. Whether he caught the barb or was simply upset that I continued to have a voice it was difficult to discern. What was not was how his rage threatened to spew out of his ears.

“You!” He turned on his son, cuffing the boy by the arm and dragging him closer. “Is this yours?” He jabbed at the apple I kept in my hand. The boy mumbled, his eyes shifting over the trampled ground. “I said did this she-bitch steal it from you?”

“Mmyes,” the child fumbled, flinching at both the lie and the fear of retaliation if he told the truth.

“Fucking finally,” the man cursed, releasing his hold on the boy. He extended the no doubt sticky fingers flat and cocked his head. “Well…”

“Well what?” I asked.

“Shit you’re dumb. Give it over before I get the cops involved.”

I snickered at the threat, though he did look like a man who’d call the police if a trashcan fell over in his driveway all while never having to worry about the mountain of dirt hidden under his rugs. My body didn’t shift, the apple held tight in my fingers as I stared around the teeming orchard. A few of the other adults drifted closer at the screaming, but once they spotted a man harassing a woman they all vanished behind trees.

There were certainly enough apples to go around. No reason to fight over one when it was easy to give in to the whims of a bully. Which was precisely the wrong message to teach my son. I lifted the apple into the air, twisting it between my fingers. “It’s not yours, you cretin.”

“Bitch!” he lashed out, fingers clamping to my wrist. The grip suckered to my skin, a thousand times tighter than what I did to his son. I shifted, prepared to teach the man just how much damage a steel-tipped boot can do to external genitals, when I caught what made my son pick this apple in the first place.

As my leg lowered to the ground, the bully snatched away the coveted apple. He released my hand, red welts rising from his grip, but I only stared back. My cold eyes burned into both his meaty face and the fruit he stole from a child. With a laugh, he placed the apple to his teeth and took a massive bite.

Which was when a warm smile wormed up my lips. I paid no heed to the pain he caused to my arm, only grinned at the man who flinched against the abyss. “Come on,” he shoved at his son, scampering away from me. But, he made certain to take another bite of the stolen apple.

“Mummy!” Tiny hands overladen with fruit bumped into my back. Keiran’s exuberant eyes warmed my heart, his full arms cinched tight as I swiped back a lock of his fallen hair. “Look at all the apples I got!”

“I see. You did an excellent job.”

My son smiled at the praise, his chin rising higher until he spotted the two generations of bullies walking down the lane. The father stopped and seemed to be staring harder at what he bit into. “Is that my apple?”

“Yes.”

My little entomologist scrunched up his nose. “Does he know it’s got a worm in it?”

A retching noise broke through the idyllic farm, the bully bent over to try and no doubt vomit up half of an eaten caterpillar. “He does now,” I said with a chuckle. “Come on,” I shook away the monster who tried to ruin our day and rubbed Kieran’s shoulders, “let’s find you another caterpillar.”

As my son led me into the trees, my ears listened to the blustering blather of a man choking upon his own comeuppance.

[a-deluded-banana]

a shot in the dark

a shot in the dark

She had no place to be and no promises to keep. It was one of those lazy, Kool-Aid-sipping, porch-swinging August afternoons, the ones that feel as if time is just ambling along or maybe pausing for a nice long nap. There had been so many of those afternoons that summer. The freedom would be pleasant, she thought, if only there were something to do with it. There hadn’t been a speck of excitement in the town of Douglasville since Mr. Hobbes’ cow disappeared three months ago. Curious and adventure-hungry, she was a loaded spring.

“Maisie, what did I tell you? You’ll break your neck. And don’t let your skirt fall down like that.” Her mother’s voice cut into her thoughts. Reluctantly she swung down from the porch railing where she had been hanging by her knees and fixed her mother with a glare from across the yard.

But her sulkiness dissipated at the sound of familiar footsteps. “Maisie, Maisie, c’mon!” It was Thomas, one of the neighborhood kids, a red-headed, freckle-faced wisp of a boy. He was Maisie’s favorite—although she’d never admit it—because he had a rebellious streak and never missed an opportunity to stir up mischief at school. Everyone knew him by the way he walked, a distinct long-short rhythm, the mark of anyone crippled by polio. The other kids teased him for it. He was in the sixth grade, a year older than Maisie, but in the summer that didn’t matter.

“What?”

“I gotta show you somethin’. C’mon!” In his eyes danced the excitement Maisie had been waiting for.

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.” His lanky, sunburnt arm beckoned her to follow.

With a cautionary glance over her shoulder at her mother, who was hanging up a pair of underwear and humming busily to herself, Maisie fell into step beside the boy, the dirt road’s dusty exhales rising in their wake. When they had reached the corner before Thomas's house, he slackened his pace, a finger to his lips. Staying close to the side of the house, he led Maisie into the backyard.

They stood before Thomas's father’s toolshed. Rusty hinges creaked twice as the door opened and quickly closed again. Once they were out of sight, Thomas's eyes changed. “You gotta swear not to tell anyone, okay?”

“Why?”

“‘Cause if my dad finds out, I’m dead meat. Got it?”

Maisie nodded, her interest piqued.

“Pinky promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die. Stick a needle in--”

“Come over here then, and remember, be quiet.” The shifting of some crates, a box of white paint cans, and the broken frame of a washboard revealed as wooden chest, which Thomas opened.

Maisie had never seen a gun before—not in real life, at least. It lay on a neatly folded bed of blue velvet and looked like it would hurt her if she made it angry.

“I found the key under my dad’s bed.”

“Does it work?”

“Yep, she’s all loaded up and everythin’.” He lifted the gun out of its holding place as if it were a sleeping princess, and cradled it in his arms. “A big one, too.”

She let him swoon over it until curiosity got the better of her. “Can I hold it?”

“If you’re careful. Don’t drop it.” He held out the weapon, albeit reluctantly. “Well c’mon. It’s not gonna jump out and bite you.”

She hadn’t expected it to feel so heavy in her hands. Nor had she expected the thrill that travelled up her spine or the peculiar sense of boldness. Still, she tried not to let Thomas see her shaking hands.

“You’re holdin’ it like a girl,” he laughed.

“Well how do you know the right way to hold it?”

“Every guy knows how to hold a gun,” he replied, puffing out his chest slightly.

“Show me, then.”

He guided her fingers around the weapon. “You wrap your right hand over your left, and your pointer finger—no, not that one, your pointer—goes along here like this. And when you wanna shoot, you put it here.”

Her finger leapt off the trigger as soon as his guiding hands were gone. “You don’t plan to use it, do you?” She gingerly returned it.

“Naw, I wouldn’t actually use it. It could come in handy, though.”

But when she looked up at him to ask why, all she saw was the angry black eye of the thing, hovering inches from hers. “Put that down!” She backed up, skittish suddenly, nearly upsetting a small tower of boxes.

“Gee, I was only joking.” But Thomas pointed it at the window instead, cocked his head, and winked down the length of the gun, a John Wayne drawl coming from his licked lips. “Let’s go on an adventure.”

“What kind of adventure?”

“Remember that old crank Mr. Grimm?”

Of course she did. Everybody knew Mr. Grimm. The infamous town drunk lived at the outer edge of the village, in a droopy-eyed house that stood directly next to the dump; rumor had it the old man had been born and raised right in that very dump, and Maisie suspected he’d die there too.

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well, he’s always sayin’ things about my leg on my way to school. I’m ‘bout to show him what I’m made of.”

Not a soul in Douglasville knew of an anger quite as bitter or as deep-rooted as Mr. Grimm's. Every morning at sunup, already scowling, he would hobble down the street, making sure to tromp on someone’s flower bed on the way, and take his usual place on the stoop of the corner post office, where he sat and commented on ladies’ dresses and grumbled about the state of politics and generally cursed everything under the sun—but his favorite pastime of all was tormenting schoolchildren. Especially Thomas, with his leg brace and funny walk.

“...What do you mean?”

“Oh, just tease ‘im a little, you know how he gets all worked up over things.” He had slipped the gun down his pant leg and now stood with a hand on the doorknob. “You coming?”

“You’re not… bringing that along, are you?”

“Only in case of an emergency. And to scare ‘im.” He shrugged as if people went out every day with guns hidden under their pants. “Aw c’mon, it’ll be funny!”

Maisie picked at a scab on her elbow. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t be such a sissy.”

He might as well have slapped her square in the face; there was nothing Maisie hated more than being called a sissy. “Okay,” she said, but only to nurse her wounded pride, and because she was left with no other option. And besides, Thomas had a point; it would be pretty funny. And so the adventure was on.

--------

Crows ruled the dump from atop heaping thrones of discarded things, pecking and perching and ruffling their dust-coated black feathers. To Maisie, as well as most of the kids of Douglasville, the dump was a land of endless possibility. What was tossed out when someone died or moved out could be salvaged and take on a new life for another. So Maisie had come to know her way around the dump like the back of her hand.

Now Thomas was shushing her. “He’ll be gettin’ home right about now.” As if in response, Mr. Grimm came staggering up the sidewalk, sending the two daredevils darting for cover behind the nearest mountain of junk. Mr. Grimm’s door slammed.

Thomas peered over a worn-out tire. “Looks like we can hide under the kitchen window. He won’t be able to see us down there. I say go, we make a run for it, got it?” Maisie got a little thrill and gave him a thumbs-up.

“Go!”

They made it to safety. Crouching in their hideout, Maisie looked above her head at a gnarled mass of vines, shriveled by the summer heat and clinging to the trellis. It whispered as if threatening to tell their secret.

“Go look in the window,” Thomas hissed in her ear, “and tell me what you see.”

“Why can’t you do it?” Maisie whined.

“‘Cause I gotta be on the lookout in case we need to get out of here in a hurry. Go on.” But his leg brace glinted the real reason as the sun beat down on his twisted frame and his eyes full of brewing storm.

Against her better judgement, but out of pity that Thomas couldn’t, Maisie trusted the trellis with her weight as she craned her neck to see over the windowsill. Even from outside, the air in the house felt stagnant and thick. Flies circled over a half-eaten loaf of stale-looking bread on the counter, and there was dust in the kitchen sink. Finally she noticed the man asleep in an armchair, one wrinkly arm dangling by his side as if he’d been dropped there by accident.

When she reported the news, Thomas visibly deflated. “We’ll just wait until he wakes up then.”

Their hiding place was smaller than it had looked from afar, and their clammy skin was pressed together in some places. In their pre-adolescence a shared self-consciousness descended upon them. Maisie busied herself by wrapping bits of dead vine around her finger. She’d never really thought of people in terms of boy or girl; were they really that different anyway? Why did she wear a skirt and not pants to church? What was it exactly that made a boy a boy and a girl a girl? She had extracted some vague clues from scraps of overheard grown-up conversation and a magazine she’d found in her dad’s coat pocket, but these were mismatched pieces of a puzzle she sensed you didn’t ask about anyway.

Above their heads, Mr. Grimm’s radio crackled out something about President Kennedy having made an appearance at a baseball game last Saturday. “My dad says President Kennedy is a blockhead Catholic,” Thomas whispered, wiping a trickle of sweat out of his eyes.

“You think we really will get a man on the moon someday?” Maisie pondered.

“Naw, I don’t think so.”

Maisie thought about it. “I do.”

“My dad says it’s a load of nonsense.”

Silence settled in. Beside Mr. Grimm’s house stood a quite healthy-looking apple tree Maisie hadn’t noticed before. She found a rotten apple and rolled it around with her toe. The fruit was small and green with a light dusting of pale red like a baby’s cheek. She wondered why death had come so early in its lifetime; perhaps a squirrel had accidentally knocked it off its branch. In any case, here it sat in Mr. Grimm’s dirt, decayed and full of worms.

Over time a lurking black shape became visible in Maisie’s peripheral vision like a shadow. As soon as she realized what it was, her heart leapt into her throat and she whisper-shrieked, “Put that thing down! Put it down!” The gun had been so close she had practically felt its breath on her temple—just like in the toolshed, only this time she didn’t know how long it had been there. By instinct, she had shrunk back against the trellis.

“Why do you do that?” she demanded.

“Shh! Stop being so loud.” He was polishing the weapon with the hem of his shirt.

“Why do you point it at me like that?”

“For practice.”

“Practice for what?”

“C’mon, you know I’m not gonna hurt you.”

"I know," Maisie said, "I just... I just hate it bein’ so close.”

“I’m gonna scare ‘im good,” Thomas was saying. “He’ll think he’s under attack, and when ‘e comes over to see what’s goin’ on, we’ll hide. Then, just when he’s startin’ to settle down again, I’ll shoot his hat right off, or somethin’. That’ll scare ‘im good.” Thomas's ginger hair flamed in the sun.

Maisie could hardly blame him for wanting to torment the old man; Mr. Grimm was a good-for-nothing bully, that part she knew—but the boy's eyes had a strange light, she thought.

But a noise in the house left the thought suspended in midair. Both children froze like deer in headlights as Thomas's eyes locked with Maisie’s.

As soon as Maisie could haul both of them up without causing a racket, the children were peeping over the windowsill by the stale bread and still-blabbering radio, the gun poised between their heads. Mr. Grimm stirred in his armchair. A tendril of dead vine crunched under Maisie's foot on the trellis and both children held their breath.

For the first time Maisie wondered what had happened to Mr. Grimm to make him so bitter. Perhaps the man had never been anything except angry in his life. A bony, blue-veined hand clutched drunkenly at a half-empty bottle arm’s length away on the table, knocking it to the floor. He swore at the broken fragments, then fell silent again.

“Well,” Maisie hissed, eager for the gun to be back in its cabinet, “wanna call it a day?”

But Thomas made no reply. A vein in his forehead was pulsing like the pounding of Maisie’s heart.

Maisie’s trembling grip on the trellis slackened with sweat. Through the window on the opposite wall of the house the sun was hanging heavy in the sky, and Maisie longed to be swinging on the porch railing again, without a care in the world. Besides, her mother must be wild with worry by now.

When Thomas looked at her, her stomach felt like it was being squeezed by a fist, and she felt like yelling out in powerlessness. In her confusion the thought came to her that Thomas could pull that very same trigger on her if he pleased, with only Mr. Grimm and the junkyard crows to bear witness. All earlier excitement was as stale as Mr. Grimm’s bread. Thomas's finger twitched. Would he? Could he?

Maisie tried to reassure herself. It was just a game of hide-and-seek—or better yet, they were a pair of secret agents waiting to expose the bad guys and save the day--only Maisie wasn’t sure who the bad guy was.

Then time went from barely moving to racing. With a considerable amount of effort, Mr. Grimm stood up from his chair and turned around. When he saw them, a look of drunken loathing contorted his face. The crows understood; they scattered, cawing their warnings. Maisie closed her eyes. Thomas cocked the gun, and in that moment she knew that whatever he was going to do, she couldn’t stop if she tried.