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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 months

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rot my teeth, melt these cotton candy lips, i'd let you; left this trail of breadcrumb broken hearts so you'd follow me home.

js1 x reader: the fisherman puts the heartbreaker out of commission.

(warnings: blasphemous filth, unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), oral sex (f on m), idk like marking and lots of limbs and obviously we've been warned about the talking. i know i'm forgetting a lot but all my usual suspects. (please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: favorites! what's new? probably nothing, right? (love a self-reference). this should serve as a warning for all of you - if you drop an anonymous ask, no matter how simple, you are running the risk of me emerging from my cave of teeth with a 14k story about someone i barely noticed until recently. and i may, consequently, become weirdly infatuated with a random third line winger (tf11) and force him into my story. my obvious disclaimers of lack of realism and weirdly flowery language and crazy plotholes and status as fiction are still very much on the table. of course i know nothing about being a private chef, or alaska, for that matter. so, uh, congrats to js1 on being an all-star, i guess? this is your prize! i posted about what's going on in my world recently - there's a lot, it's a lot, and just know that no matter what, what i feel most for you is gratitude. thank you. tell me what you think, i live for it. takeaway for today - your past does not determine who you are, what you are capable of. no matter how many guys insist it does, your body count and/or experience, or lack thereof, even, is irrelevant to the lovely person you are. you are a treasure, and you deserve to be treated accordingly. may we all find partners who think they're dreaming when they look at us. my snakes told me to tell your snakes they have a crush on them. okay, until next time, go canucks. all my love).

summers, for you, had always been something magical.

when you were young, they meant lake house vacations and playing tennis with your siblings and strawberry shortcake, grass stains and popsicles. when you were in school, they meant working as a line cook at a country club, a job and space that felt all your own, they meant salty beach days with your friends and pulling the caddies (the cute ones, at least) behind the clubhouse, kisses that tasted like gatorade.

now, a bit older, summers meant something different, but they were still magical. during the year, you worked as a personal chef for the same lovely family, the montgomerys, that you had built a trusting relationship with - a family that travelled extensively over the summer, leaving you, each may, to look for temporary work elsewhere.

you took work from whatever family offered you the best gig any given summer, usually on a referral from your main employer, usually a place like nantucket or charleston or something like that.

last summer, spent in the hamptons, you cooked for the family of mrs. montgomery's best friend. it had been a season of fish tacos and roasted artichoke salad and berry cobbler, cut with fireworks and white linen dresses and aperol spritzes.

this summer, mr. montgomery's coworker, mr. kelly, had hired you to keep him and his family fed for the season while they summered up at their alaskan vacation home.

so, this job, it wasn't new, not really. you were a seasoned professional in the world of being a private chef, in recipe building and gardening and plate presentation.

this place, however, this small town in alaska, was completely and utterly unfamiliar. you had met the kellys a few times, so you knew the parents and their adorable young son, but that was where the recognition would end. the rest was new, foreign.

you loved the prospect of learning a new place, though, like earning a new badge on a girl-scout sash. your mind hummed on the flight over as you thought about different seasonal produce, a new set of tastes and preferences to account for, techniques for preparing the seafood that would surely be spectacular.

a new set of streets to know the names of, a new community to put faces to, a new routine to settle into.

summers were magical, for you, they always had been, and you knew this one would be no different.

this was very much not the hamptons, though, you realized, very quickly upon landing at the tiny airport, which had only a few gates. which was fine, you considered, you didn't need to work at some crazy expensive beach town, or anything, but this place was kind of, well, scarce, maybe?

the taxi ride to the house was fast, a blur of main street and trees and not much else. finally, you arrived, a flurry of suitcases and thank yous and hair in your face.

the kellys welcomed you, all open arms from the mrs and kind smiles from the mr and timid waves from their son, stanley. they showed you to your room, gave you a quick tour, left you to settle in before the work started tomorrow.

exhausted from travel, you fell asleep quickly and dreamlessly.

the next morning, you awoke to the sun streaming in through the window, warm and lazy. after getting ready, you made your way downstairs, had your planning meeting with the family.

they told you their preferences, the important dates of the summer, when people would be coming over. thankfully, there were no allergies. they showed you to their garden.

"we'd love if you got some use out of it," mrs. kelly said, a gentle hand on your shoulder, "lord knows i don't give it enough attention."

"we're so excited to have you," mr. kelly said, "thanks again for doing this. see you for dinner?"

you called out your confirmation as you grabbed your market bags, began the five-minute walk to downtown, to the pier. the walk was peaceful, the air pleasant and fresh.

you made your way through main street slowly and methodically, learning the stores and their energies, their offerings. the market, sure, that would be where you spent a majority of your time, but you tried out the bookstore, too, the coffee shop, the vintage store.

before you knew it, your arms were loaded with bags, overflowing with produce and ingredients, a couple books, a bag of coffee beans, a vintage silk scarf.

your arms were full, but you still decided to make one last stop, at the fish market, all the way at the end of main street.

the smell made you scrunch up your nose, if only slightly, as you pushed the door open with your hip, heard the bell ring over your head.

you made your way to the glass display case, surveyed all the different seafood over ice. you were thinking salmon, for tonight, something simple that everyone would like.

you picked your head up, looked behind the counter, found nobody to help you. "uh, hello?" you called out. "anyone home?"

almost immediately, two tall figures came barreling out of the back, through the double doors. two men, bottom half in fishing gear, the rubbery protective pants attached to suspenders, which laid over black long sleeves.

"what's up?" one of them, the dirty blonde, said, his voice deep, almost cartoonish.

"hi," you said, "i'm looking for some salmon."

"didn't look very hard, did you?" the blonde said, teasing, nodding down to where the mass of pink fish laid atop the plane of ice. he cut a look to his coworker, who's gaze hadn't dropped from you since he came through the door. "but, uh, i think my friend jeremy's gonna help you out," he said, "i, uh, gotta do somethin' in the back real quick."

the blonde made a quick and forced exit, forcing you to turn and face the other man behind the counter.

"okay?" you said, halfway confused. "you're jeremy, then?"

there was a pause potent with awkwardness as he stood there, blinking at you.

a pause during which you realized, however slowly, that this man across the counter was sort of beautiful. beautiful in a way you weren't used to, beautiful in a way your men of the summer had not been before.

it was sort of an inside joke now, between you and your friends. how, no matter where you were, what job you were working, you'd have a "summer boyfriend," a guy with a finish line, someone pretty and nice enough to hang around until the sun set over the blood orange summer skyline one final time. your best friend joked that it was a seasonal position, almost like an internship.

the caddies you went for when you were a little younger were division one golfers, with all of the laser-focus and goody-two-shoes attitudes to match.

last summer, in the hamptons, it'd been a beachfront bartender named mat, all easy charm and comic book facial structure. he'd cared a little too much about his physique, said a little too much about what you'd cook for him, but he'd also been really sweet, sometimes, letting you borrow his jackets whenever you got cold on the beach.

jeremy, though, he didn't look like the laced-up amateur golfers, and he didn't seem like the discipline-fueled superhero, either. he was tall, for sure, tall enough that your neck craned slightly to get a good look at him, and wide in the shoulders.

it was his face that really got you, though - even with that sharp jaw, he just looked so soft, so gentle, so tender, like he wore every emotion across his face completely and utterly shamelessly. his eyes had welled up with something you had the sneaking suspicion was just kindness, brimming on his waterline, threatening to spill forward like salty tears.

you waved a hand in front of his face, cleared your throat, felt the slightest of blushes across your nose. "earth to jeremy?"

you watched consciousness creep into his eyes, cloud over the awe that was previously there. he gave a rigorous shake of his head, as if to snap himself out of a trance. "sorry, beauty," he said, and his voice was so genuine, so unabashed, it made you smile, your stomach turn. "must think 'm a real space cadet, eh?"

you shifted the bags in your hands. "well, you did just zone out for a bit," you said.

he let out a laugh, and it bubbled out of him, uninhibited. "my fault," he admitted, "i was thinking, 'woah, am i in a dream right now?' and then i was like 'wait, no, i don't dream about work,' but you look straight 'outta a daydream, beauty, i swear it."

his manner of speaking dripped with honesty, like every aspect of his thoughts was completely on the table, like you were someone entitled to knowing exactly what was going on in his head.

you averted your gaze at his confession. when was the last time someone had made you feel practically timid?

when you spoke, your voice felt unsure. "whatever you say," you told him. "maybe you could help me, now? i-"

"anything," he said, completely stone-faced and serious, which forced a laugh from your throat.

"right," you said, a slight smile quirking up on your lips. "i'm hoping to get some salmon for dinner tonight?"

he hummed, a sound you felt in your chest. your fingers twitched. "you cook, too?" he asked, sounded almost pained as he leaned his head onto a hand, the other flat on the counter.

you nodded absentmindedly. "'m a private chef. anyways, need enough for four, five people, maybe?"

"at your service, beauty," he said, in that funny voice, and then he shot you a wink before snapping his gloves on. the tips of your ears must have been a vengeful pink, at this point.

as he prepared the fish for you to take home, weighing it and wrapping it in paper, you set your bags down on the ground, stretched your arms out above your head, your body stiff from holding so many things.

"that's a 'lotta bags, there," jeremy said, nodding towards the floor. "what're you hoarding in 'em?" his smile pulled at his mouth, revealed a flash of white teeth that was nothing but teasing, kind.

you ran a palm across the back of your neck. "it's my first day on the job," you said, "first dinner for the new family, want to make a good impression."

he gave a light-hearted scoff. "ever made a bad impression?"

you rolled your eyes at him. "you don't know me, jeremy," you reminded him, not mean, almost a sing-songy melody in your voice.

he put up one hand in mock-surrender. "'course, you're right," he said, "just find it hard to believe, 's all."

"okay, sweet-talker," you chided, shifting on your feet as he finished wrapping up your fish.

his grin was triumphant. "think 'm sweet, do you, beauty?"

you handed over your payment, ran your tongue along your teeth as he gently took it from your fingers. you let that confidence well up in your gaze, willed the smile that worked on everyone.

the one that convinced caddies that maybe they could take a quick break, that maybe they deserved to have a little fun, the one that convinced the bartender everyone had lusted over that you were the only girl in the world, that no one else was worthy of his attention.

"oh, you'd rot my teeth, jeremy," you teased as you slotted the paper package into a bag, took back your credit card, loaded your arms full again, made for the door.

you looked over your shoulder one last time, found him leaning on his palm, again, watching you, practically with a wistful sigh. "'m not rotten," he said, gaze alight with something dangerous.

you smiled at him. "goodbye, rotten boy," you said, leaving as the bell rung above you, feeling his gaze on your back the entire time, until the air around you smelled less of the sea and more of the forest, like tree-sap and soil.

you fell into a routine quickly, like you had planned on, like you were so used to doing. you prepped and planned and worked on recipes. you cooked and cleaned up after yourself and looked after the garden with diligence. you spent your free mornings walking to get coffee, your free weekends exploring the nearby beaches and lakes and trails.

you gained the trust of the kellys, until they treated you like family. until mr. kelly was asking when your crabcakes would be making another appearance, until mrs. kelly was swearing there was sorcery involved in your strip steak, until little stanley would sneak into the kitchen when you were making dessert, just because he knew there would be some cookie dough to spare, maybe a finger swipe of brownie batter.

until the garden was looking almost complete, the pantries and fridge fully stocked, until the menu had a fairly regular rotation.

you made your first friend a few weeks into the summer, one morning, waiting in the short line for your daily coffee. you had long ago come to terms with the fact that, yes, it would probably be cheaper to make coffee at home, but you'd soak the economic losses to support a small business. coffee was one thing you'd spend money on, no matter where you were.

so, this morning, you were second in line, which should have meant a short wait, but the middle-aged man in front of you was taking a truly devastating amount of time to make a decision.

the poor teenager working the register was trying not to be rude, you could tell, but after a couple minutes, the growing line had begun to grow restless.

you were about to tap the man on the shoulder, but the woman behind you, maybe your age, a bit older, beat you to it.

"jesus christ, jerry!" she bit out, "just get your regular, or i'll run an article about how someone so indecisive shouldn't own a hardware store!" she huffed out an angry breath, shook her head as a scared jerry ordered a drip coffee with cream.

you met the woman's eye, and she smiled at you. "hey, new kid," she said, sticking out her hand. "i'm tj, local paper."

impressed, you shook her hand, gave her your name. "local paper, eh?" you asked, "lots of coffee shop and hardware store headlines?"

she laughed as you stepped forward and ordered your americano, motioned for her to order, too. "we don't get a lot of blockbuster news, around here," she said, making to pay, but you held out a hand to stop her. "you're probably just about the most interesting news we've had all year, since the frederic's dog got lost."

you hummed. "i could use you on my side, tj," you mused, "could help me get up to speed with this place."

she tilted her head, appeared in thought for a second before eventually nodding. "sure, new kid, i'll get you all caught up," she agreed. "and not just because you bought my coffee."

you laughed. "anytime," you offered.

"say, same time tomorrow?" she asked, headed for the door, swinging her shoulder bag around. "meet here?"

you agreed and waved goodbye. she saluted you, let the door close behind her.

"that girl's a terror," jerry warned you, careful.

"good," you told him. "all the best girls are."

as promised, you met up with tj the next morning, bought her coffee with your own before making your way up main street.

"so, i'm sure you're already familiar, because you've been here for a bit," she said, in step with you, "but we'll go over the basics."

"honestly, i don't know much," you said, "i'm at the market almost every day, every other place i've been only once or twice. and besides the kellys, you're the first local person i know by name." a flash of molten brown eyes and a tender smile blazed across your mind like a comet. "well, second."

tj's gaze shimmered, and you guessed this was the curiosity that makes someone want to be a reporter. "who else?" she asked.

"no one, really," you said, "this guy in the fish market, jeremy, but we talked for like a second."

she nodded like she understood. "oh, the fish market," she sighed. "the two biggest goofballs in town." she shot you a look. "don't worry, we'll make a stop there."

"oh, we don't have to, i'll go back eventually, mr. kelly's been wanting crab, anyways-"

"we'll make a stop there," she repeated, and that was that. first, though, she introduced you to the owner of the grocery store, an old woman who whispered to you that all the best stuff gets delivered on wednesdays.

next was the pizza place, and all the teenagers who seemed to be running it. "luke likes jenna, but jenna has a thing for her friend kayla," tj whispered to you as the door shut behind you.

"this is the kind of inside scoop you're privy to, eh?" you asked, amused.

she shrugged. "it's a real mixed bag. i'd never, like, run a story on the love lives of high schoolers, but everything is significant in a town this small."

you hummed, supposing she was right.

between the vintage store and the post office, she asked about your history, where you were from, your job.

"sounds like a pretty sweet gig," she said with an impressed sort of shrug.

you nodded. "it's a lot of work, but it's pretty awesome," you said, honestly. you loved what you did, and felt very lucky to be doing it.

"come back soon, girls!" mailwoman mindy called out after you both. you waved your thanks.

eventually, after your head was overcrowded with insider information and useless gossip all the same, you and tj stood in front of the fish market, the smell making your palms sweat with the memory of last time.

when was the last time a guy made you nervous? you shivered the thought away as tj pushed open the door.

"right, so this is the frederic's business, has been for decades," she said, "boys! show yourselves!"

on cue, the two men from last time shouldered through the double doors with the same lack of gracefulness.

"good morning, sunshine," the blonde said, almost taunting, looking right at tj, "to what do we owe this great pleasure?"

your friend looked particularly annoyed, all of a sudden. "'m giving new kid a tour," she said, gesturing to you, "she says she's been here, but i figured you probably didn't introduce yourself."

"right, as always, you sleuther," he said, making up the word, before turning to you. "i'm trent. and i remember you." he smirked, nodded to his coworker. "guy's been moanin' and cryin' 'bout when you'd come back."

"nice to officially meet you, trent," you said, giving him your name before finally allowing yourself to look at jeremy, whose gaze you'd felt like the sun on your face since he entered. he was every bit as beautiful, as genuine, as painstakingly tender as you'd remembered. "hey, jeremy." your words came out softer than you meant them to.

"hey, beauty," he replied, almost disbelieving, his hair just a bit shaggier than you remembered.

his smile was something brutal.

your grin was sly as you rolled your neck to the side, let his gaze drip over you greedily, but never shamefully.

tj cleared her throat. "well, not much of anything interesting happens on this end of the pier," she said, to which trent placed a wounded hand over his heart.

"no gossip for me, tj?" you asked, almost surprised, but not quite. these two seemed like open books, if jeremy's telling gaze was anything to go by. not to mention the fondness that had invaded trent's eyes when looking at your new friend, the way your eyes settle on your science class crush in middle school.

"you'll tell me something useful eventually, won't you, boys?" tj asked.

"guess you'll have to keep coming back, then. to find out," was trent's smug reply.

you weren't listening to their banter, really, though, not anymore, because you had drifted closer to jeremy, felt yourself walk over to him as if pulled by some thread. until you were leaning forward on the counter, like you were about to tell him a secret. until you could see each of his dark lashes, the light smattering of freckles on his nose.

"been moanin' and cryin', eh?" you teased, little more than a whisper, tilting your head at him.

"wouldn't've had to," he said, but it came out like a whine. "if you'd've come back to see me."

what would it be like, to be just, so, so honest? with others, with yourself? so honest, it rendered you just about speechless. almost.

you gave him that smile. "rotten boy," you said, watched his gaze become drenched in corn syrup. "so impatient, hm?"

"when do i get to see you again?" he asked, undeterred, not unaffected but so beautifully unembarrassed in his focus on the more, the next.

"soon," was all you said. he gave you a pout that you wanted to bite down on.

"alright, we're off," tj said, her voice pulling you from the daydream you had settled into. "when you've got something i can use, you know where to find me, frederic."

"you can use me anytime, tj!" he pronounced her name like tee-j, smiled as she rolled her eyes.

"good to meet you, trent," you said, "jeremy, i'll see you around."

"not if i see you first, beauty!" his goofy voice called out after you.

as luck would have it, you didn't even have to wait for the weekend to see him again. because, the universe, you were convinced, was trying to force you closer, closer, closer to this tall, kind, man with eyes that glittered. and what was there to do, really, except say thank you?

stanley, whom you had come to grow close to, whose laugh was like a bell, who was quiet but observant and passionate about things like glaciers and rainstorms, had started fishing camp earlier that week, but this afternoon, neither of his parents could pick him up.

"i know it's not in your job description, and i promise it won't be a regular thing," mrs. kelly had said to you over the phone, "but could you swing by the pier super quick to walk him home?"

and of course you had agreed, told her it wasn't any trouble at all.

and it really wasn't any trouble at all, until trouble was staring you straight in the face.

until you stood on the pier, waiting your turn in the pick-up line, and spotted trouble, himself, lifting kids by the waist from the small boat onto the dock.

he sparkled with life, in all of his gear, down to his water-proof boots. he appeared to have made something of a game out of pick up, making a rocket-ship noise as he hoisted kids into the air before setting them down. their laughter rang out in the clear air.

you could feel your heart beat in your chest, suddenly became acutely aware of what you were wearing, how your hair looked. this nervous energy was so foreign to you, it almost felt like a sickness, like a cold.

you scolded yourself to calm down, willed your heartbeat to normalize. these nerves, they weren't you - or at least, they weren't the you that you were used to. they were not the careless summer you that you had come to know and love. they were part of a different you, one that was not as familiar, perhaps one you believed to be not as magical.

"beauty!" you were pulled from your self-conscious daze by jeremy approaching you with agile steps, until he was right in front of you, larger than life, unobstructed by a counter for the first time. before you could do or say anything, his thick arms were around you, pulling you tight against his chest in a hug that muffled your surprise, maybe confusion. you didn't know him, he didn't know you, yet he was doling out hugs like they cost him nothing? "so happy you're here," he said into your hair, and you could have laughed at the absurdity of it all.

maybe you would have, if his embrace didn't feel so right around you, if his chest wasn't so expansive, yet so soft, if you didn't feel so completely safe, practically at peace in his arms. maybe you would have laughed, if there had been anything funny about this.

you rubbed circles into his back with your palm, almost dazed. "you work fishing camp?" you asked into his chest, felt the heat of your exhale in your face.

he didn't let you go, not yet, only pulled his head back slightly so he could talk to you, face to face. "oh, yeah," he said, generous with his smile, "boat captain of the baby minnows, more like."

you couldn't help your smile. "okay, big shot," you said, feigning being impressed. "do i call you captain, then?"

did you imagine the way his eyes darkened, if only for a second, a storm cloud over the sea line? did you imagine the way his embrace grew heated? did you imagine the way you wanted it to?

"think 'd let you call me just about anything," he said, breathy, and the air sparked.

he's not for you, a voice whispered in your head. he's not your seasonal plaything.

you coughed, tried to gracefully step away from him. he let you, didn't seem to be bothered by it. "have you seen stanley?" you asked, your skin itching to feel his arms around you, again.

jeremy smiled. "stan, stan, my bug-saving man? he's 'round here somewhere." he looked around, his gaze finally settling on the boy you were looking for, bent over a rock, looking at some critter that had caught his eye. "there he is." the two of you walked over to him. "not just here to see me, then? pickup takes priority?"

he didn't sound disappointed, not even sad, really, but almost wistful, hopeful. his words upset you, though, which scared you. it scared you, how much you didn't want to hurt his feelings.

it was this scared part of you that took his wide hand in yours and squeezed, which made his gaze cut to yours, wide, surprised. "'m happy to see you," you said, and it felt forbidden to say so, but you did it anyways.

you were happy for the distraction of the kid in front of you as you reluctantly let go of jeremy's hand and crouched down. "hey, stanley," you said, so as not to spook him.

he hummed his hello, pointed to the beetle in the dirt. "look," he said, seemingly content with just observing.

"i see," you said, "pretty cool." you had never been the best at talking to children. somehow, jeremy seemed to sense this.

"guess what, stan?" he said, eyes wide, like him and this small boy were in on some secret.

"what?" stan said.

"your friend over here told me that the first one home gets an extra special dessert tonight," he stage-whispered. stan's eyes grew wide at this information. he promptly took off, in the direction of home.

thank you, you mouthed to jeremy as you made to follow stan.

he ran a hand through his hair. "thankful enough for a helping of dessert tomorrow?" he called out after you.

you scrunched up your face playfully. "rotten!" you said, loud enough for him to hear, which made his bright laugh echo behind you, echo in your head. the feeling of his embrace, of his hand in yours, of his laugh in your mind, it all followed you home, where it stayed.

it lingered for long after, into days spent wrapped up in work, throwing yourself into your everyday tasks so that a certain someone would stay at an arm's length, so that your head might maintain some semblance of clearness.

between shucking corn and braising short rib, though, whenever you weren't entirely preoccupied, your mind would wander to corded shoulders under black long sleeves, to giggly belly-laughs and honesty that made you blush.

it was your wandering mind that had you seeking out stan, when he and his dad got back from fishing camp pick-up. "how was today?" you asked him, gentle, probing.

he shrugged.

"anything to report?" you tried, hoping maybe he'd say something about jeremy, but you'd take an update on the bugs and slithery things he seemed to like so much, too. you pushed a bowl of chocolate pudding and strawberries across to counter to him, placing a finger to your lips in a request for secrecy.

this, stan seemed to understand. "didn't catch anything," he said, digging into his treat. "set all the worms free."

you suppressed a laugh. "was jeremy mad at you?" you knew the answer though, knew it would take a lot more than that to make him anything close to angry.

stan shook his head, and his eyes flickered with a memory. "he told me to tell you about the pier party."

"what's the pier party?" you asked.

another shrug. you figured you'd ask tj about it.

"did he say anything else?" you asked, trying to mask the hope in your gaze, which probably appeared kind of scary to this kid.

stan thought for a moment, then his face scrunched up in distaste. "oh, and he told me to tell you that his hair looked really good today."

"did it?" you asked.

"not really," stan said, and then he laughed, muffled around his spoon, forcing a laugh from you, too.

following clarification with tj about what the pier party was (like a block party, summer tradition, that weekend), you walked downtown with the kellys on saturday night to find the pier all lit up, local vendors having set up stands, music playing from speakers, kids running around everywhere.

the night air was warm and sticky, making your thighs feel damp, your hair heavy on the back of your neck.

stan ran off with some of his friends from camp, the kellys joined a conversation with some people they knew, leaving you to find tj.

you quickly spotted her, leaning on a post next to the cooler, writing something down in her nearly-abused notebook.

"no days off, eh?" you said, amused, when you approached her, making her look up, roll her eyes at you as she shut her notebook, clicked her pen and shoved it into her messy bun.

"inspiration is everywhere," she said, joking, but you could tell there was some truth to her statement. "drink?"

"no, thanks," you said. you had grown sort of disenfranchised with the whole alcohol thing since last summer. not in a pretentious way, or a judgmental way, you didn't mind at all if others drank. you just didn't like the way it made you feel, sort of sluggish and swollen, and as soon as you'd stopped, you realized you didn't really miss it. "what were you writing?"

she opened her mouth to answer, but she was cut off by a funny, cracking voice. "oh, that's not her work book," trent said, grinning. "that's her diary. 'm sure my name's makin' quite a few appearances."

"in your dreams, frederic," tj chided, shoving the notebook into her bag nonetheless as trent pulled the pen from her hair, tucked it behind his own ear.

of course, where one was, the other was never far behind, so you weren't all that surprised to feel jeremy slide into place beside you. you did become momentarily distracted, though, by the smell of him so close, by the fact that he wasn't wearing his gear, instead opting for casual pants and a t-shirt you thought appeared a little too small.

you swallowed around your distraction, lodged in your throat, at his arms, thick with muscle, his body less-so obstructed by water-proof gear and more-so highlighted by his everyday clothes.

when your eyes finally found his, he looked positively delighted by your distraction.

you shook your head. "sorry," you said immediately.

his smile only grew. "don't be, beauty," he said, giving the arm not holding his beer a hard flex, posing like a bodybuilder, making you laugh. "just get my good side, hm?"

maybe it was his easy humor that had honesty welling up in you like a cresting wave. "every side's your good side," you said, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, willing him to relax. rest, you might as well have whispered into his ear. you can rest, with me. "you're so good."

that's what he seemed to hear it as, anyways, as his gaze melted into something like awe, like wonder, like pure kindness. when he spoke, there was a rasp to it that made you shiver. "want a drink?" he asked.

you weren't embarrassed to shake your head, softly. "'m not into drinking, right now," you said, then realized that could be taken as judgmental. "but i don't mind if you do, like, at all."

his expression didn't change, though, as he held out his beer bottle to trent, snagging his attention from whatever conversation he had roped tj into. "freddy, finish this for me, eh?"

trent just shrugged, took it from his hand, downed it in one go. tj grimaced. "you're gross," she said.

"it's saturday night," trent said with a one-shouldered shrug, as if that explained everything.

"you didn't have to do that," you told jeremy. "i really don't mind."

he just waved you off with a smile as trent and tj continued their argument about being appropriate at a neighborhood party.

the song that floated through the thick air grew slower, maybe something like the last song at a middle school dance. something that had the older couples swaying in time with each other, that had luke gazing across the pier at jenna, who was laughing with kayla. something that had jeremy extending a broad hand to you. "may i have this dance?" he asked, like some old-timey medieval, and you could have laughed, if he didn't appear to be completely serious.

so you only smiled, took his hand, said, "you may."

you set your free hand on his shoulder, tried not to blush at the firmness you felt under your palm as his other hand rested on your waist. you swayed and moved together gently, slowly, in time with the song, the pier under your sandals.

in a moment of indulgence, you dug your hand harder into his shoulder, massaging the muscle there. "a little tense, hm?" you said, meeting his gaze, coated in bliss.

maybe it backfired, a little, though, when he let out a little groan at your touch, at the feeling of your careful hand undoing the knots in the pocket between his shoulder and neck. something stirred in your stomach. you exhaled slowly.

the moment felt oddly charged, a sensual eye in the hurricane of normality around the two of you.

he hummed. "consequence of the job," he said, giving you a slight spin.

"it's tough on you, eh?" you asked, genuine, his touch on your waist distracting. time seemed to melt like a fourth-of-july popsicle.

he shrugged, a movement you felt in your fingers. "'m tough," he said, and you could tell he knew it to be true, knew it to be a keystone of his being.

you nodded, because you knew this, too. "can tell," you whispered, giving his hand a squeeze. "feel it in your hands."

his eyes became glossy, for a moment, like your admission was too much for his consciousness to bare.

this glossy look spurred you on, made the flirt in you emerge with a vengeance. "like to break a bit of a sweat, yeah?"

and he was nodding before you got the words out, feverish, almost desperate.

the music felt far away, up in the clouds, below the surface of the sea. it felt like you two might have been there, too, waltzing in some misty sky dreamland, some foamy ocean kingdom.

it felt perfect, he felt perfect, and when you went to sleep that night, your waist felt cold without his wide palm against it. your fingers twitched without his firm grip around them.

the next day, you called one of your old friends from the city, who had known you for a long time, who was the kind of friend that, no matter how much time had passed from when you last spoke, you would pick up right where you left off, no matter what.

you asked her about how she was doing, how her partner was, her job, her house renovations.

"alright, enough about me, i'm boring myself to death," she said after getting you effectively caught up. "tell me about your summer adventures, so much more exciting than redoing the master bath."

you laughed, and you told her about the kellys, their beautiful home, this lovely town. you told her about how the air was just different up here, how everything tasted fresher, how you had made a friend who made you laugh.

"and who's the lucky guy?" she said, eventually, as you sort of knew she would. at your silence, you could practically hear her disbelief. "don't tell me you don't have a seasonal hire, yet? how small is this town?"

you rolled your eyes good-naturedly. "it's not that," you said, "i mean, there is this guy, and he's really, really-" you trailed off, kind of, tried to think of how to describe him. scarily kind? handsome and beautiful at the same time? you let out a small laugh. "well, he makes me nervous, i guess."

there was a pause. "you're telling me," your friend said, slow and pronounced. "there's a guy in this universe who can make you nervous? and he's in alaska?"

"it's weird, right?" you said, almost laughing at yourself.

"weird? it's unprecedented!" there was a squeal from the other end of the line. "so, you've been there for a couple weeks now, right? so you must know him pretty well?"

you looked down at your hand, flexed it, cleared your throat. "i, uh, haven't really, like, initiated anything with him," you admitted. "i don't know, it doesn't feel like how it normally does. like i feel like my order and timing is all wrong, like i'm behind and going too fast at the same time."

"holy fuck," your friend said. "you, like, really like him. that's what really being into someone is, babe. exactly that."

you swallowed, blushed, even though her words just confirmed what you already had suspected.

"you have to ask him out," she said, as if she had made up her mind. "or, like, i don't know, next time you see him, just, like, kiss him, or something."

you laughed, rubbed your palm against your leg. "pretty sure there's, like, laws against that," you joked, but you got her point. whether you liked it or not, all signs were pointing to you being completely taken with jeremy. and even if it had happened quickly, and even if it wasn't in your typical summer style, perhaps it was time to do something about it.

"next time you call i'm expecting a wedding announcement," were your friend's eventual parting words. "and i like a sweetheart neckline for my bridesmaid's dress." you said your goodbyes and hung up with well wishes and a plan.

a plan that involved picking up some crab from the fish market the following day.

of course, when you entered, the main space was empty, as it always was.

"jeremy?" you called out, "you there?"

"coming!" came that tell-tale voice.

if trent was there too, he didn't make his presence known, as it was only the brown-haired boy who came bursting in from the back, eyes wide with delight when he registered your figure. he actually gave a little laugh, short and boyish. "beauty!" he said, like he couldn't believe his luck. "so soon?"

he didn't stay behind the counter, either, this time coming all the way around to lean against the display case, face you head-on. it was hard to imagine a time when the sight of him like this wouldn't make your mouth dry, just a little. when him, close to you, wouldn't make your heart sing.

he looked conflicted, standing in front of you now, like he didn't quite know what to do with his hands. that made the two of you - because what lines did you still want to remain in place? what boundaries did you want to abolish entirely?

your exhale felt like a bloodstained white flag, waving. "couldn't wait any longer to see you," you said, simply, trying on some of his honesty like a hand-me-down leather jacket. it made you feel just as cool.

and it was worth it to see the way he practically melted at your words, the way his eyes softened, how he seemed to lean further into the display case for support more than comfort.

maybe to push your luck, maybe because you knew you weren't really pushing it at all, you swung your bag to your back, opened up your arms, only a little timidly, stepped forward a bit.

the elementary school bully in your head snickered at your awkwardness, but jeremy only pushed out of his lean immediately, wrapped his thick arms around your frame until your nose was pressed against the black cotton of his shirt. he was warm, so warm, and smelled like the sea, and you had to have been imagining how your limbs practically gave a sigh of relief to feel him hold you again.

how could this possibly be? for so long, you'd been the heartbreaker that boys warned their friends about, and now you were weak in the knees because of a hug?

jeremy laughed, and it rumbled through your body.

"what?" you asked into his firm chest as your fingers fluttered on his back.

he didn't say anything, only pulled his head back a bit, a motion your mirrored until you were staring up at him, curious.

his gaze was almost dazed as he reached a hand up, pinched at your cheek.

you made a sound like it hurt more on instinct than actuality, batting his hand away nonetheless. "what was that for?"

he laughed, leaned down and pressed his lips lightly to where his fingers had been, making your nose and cheeks erupt in strawberry pink. the most tender touch you'd felt, almost embarrassingly soft, enough to make you want to hide your face.

his humor was evident in his tone when he spoke. "had to make sure i wasn't dreaming," he clarified. "with you showin' up here, sayin' you wanna see me, and all. lookin' like this."

the memory of his lips burned like a flame on your skin as you looked up at him. "pretty sure you're supposed to pinch yourself for that," you told him.

something awoke in his eyes. "pinch me, then, beauty," he said, daring you, "'s only fair."

you scrunched up your nose. "only want me to so 'l kiss it better," you mused, knowing the look in his eyes, knowing exactly how that felt.

he hummed, greedy, guilty, let the pause settle like molasses. a moment during which you could have said a million things, but nothing felt quite right. nothing could possibly add to the peace you felt here, right now.

"i know," jeremy said, a self-deprecating sort of tease in his tone that didn't quite fit with the shimmery satisfaction in his eyes. "i know it, 'm so rotten for you."

and maybe you had been about to make some joke about him being rotten, but he had flipped this whole conversation on its head entirely by saying that he was rotten for you. because now this was no longer a joke, now this was just so, so serious.

so serious you cleared your throat, but didn't step away, couldn't bring yourself to. you swung your bag around. "brought you something," you said, tried to hide the shake in your voice as you took the plastic container from your bag, held it up to him. "extra portion of dessert, as promised."

he took it from your hands like it it was made of glass, smiled so wide his eyes crinkled at the corners. "thank you," he said.

there was something almost violent about his kindness.

"anyways," you said, moving right along, for fear that you'd forget what you came for if you looked in his eyes any longer. "was wondering if, i don't know, maybe, you, uh, wanted to-"

as you rambled and stuttered, which was like speaking a foreign language, to you, which made you feel like the tongue in your mouth was not your own, his grin grew, and grew, until you had to shake your head at your ridiculousness. "yes, please," he said, putting you out of your misery.

you rolled your eyes, your face hot. "if you'd only let me finish, i was almost there," you said.

"'course, beauty," he said with a nod, a gesture for you to continue, "didn't mean to interrupt."

you took a breath. "was wondering if you wanted to get ice cream with me, tomorrow?" you managed, the words rushed. "like a date?"

you'd ask him a thousand times, if he kept looking at you like his, as long as he'd take you in his arms, as he was doing now, as long as he'd hide your burning face in his chest and hold you like to let you go would hurt. "yes, please," he repeated into your hair. "did so well, beauty," he said, softer, a murmur. you hadn't known how much you needed someone to tell you that until he mumbled it into your temple, the affirmation sitting atop your head like a crown dipped in gold.

you made it back to the house that day with a package of crab and plans for tomorrow. you immediately texted tj, needing to tell someone, anyone, so much so that you would have told stan, if he'd been around, even though you knew how he would grimace, said something about you not making any sense.

free tomorrow morning? you texted her.

coffee place at eight was her prompt reply.

that was where you sat, now, across the table from your friend, filling her in on what you'd done, what you were doing later today.

she let out a low whistle when you finished, a little out of breath.

"ice cream date, eh?" she said, finally, raising a brow. "what, will you get his snap after?" she crossed her fingers and shook them at you, teasing.

you rolled your eyes and waved her off, but something about her words resonated with you. because it did seem juvenile, it did seem childish and weird.

but you'd never done the juvenile and childish. you'd skipped that part, right to the thoughtful flirting and manipulative mannerisms that you now associated with adulthood. was it so bad that you wanted some of that time back? was it so bad to want the ice cream dates instead of the motive-driven smiles? the bear-hugs instead of the whole let-me-buy-you-a-drink dance?

was it so bad to want it to just be easy, for once? for you not to have to do all the heavy lifting, just so they thought it had been their idea all along? you were tired of hiding your tracks just so they could feel proud when they discovered what you had led them right to.

you told tj as much, and she gave you a soft sort of smile, much more gentle than her usual expression. "well, in any case, i'm proud of you," she said, before looking down, swirling around her mug. "i could use a little bit of your courage."

you tilted your head. "oh yeah?" you asked, "got someone in mind?" of course, you had quite the strong intuition, but you knew it had to come from her.

tj just shrugged. "'m not really looking for anything, right now," she said, non-committal.

"not even from a certain sunshine?" you said, giving her a look, to which she rolled her eyes.

"jesus, not you, too," she said, which had you asking what she meant. "our families have been trying to get us together since we were practically babies," she elaborated, "our moms are best friends."

this new information rolled in your head like creamed butter in a stand mixer. you waited for her to continue.

"and 'm not the kind of person to do what everyone wants, what everyone expects from me," she said.

"oh, really?" you said, sarcastic, "news to me."

she hit your forearm playfully. "'m serious," she said, "and it was fine, because he was on the same page, too, until pretty recently." she looked down. "now he's making it pretty hard to maintain my stone-cold reputation." she said this like a joke, but there was an air of truth to it, too.

you took her hand and squeezed it, because if anyone knew what that felt like, it was you. if anyone knew what it felt like to feel that pull, that pull towards something, someone, who was just so unlike the person you had built yourself up to be, it was you. and you told her us much.

"to the death of the heartbreaker and the ice queen," you said, raising your mug to hers, teasing, but not really, "and the birth of the softie and the lover girl."

she laughed, clinked her mug against yours. "maybe not the death," she amended, "maybe the birth of the softie with a flirtatious streak and the lover girl with a mean one."

you'd toast to that, any day.

later, after you'd prepped for the day's meals, tended to the garden, and planned out tomorrow, you spent a little too much time deciding what to wear for your date, eventually landing on your typical summer uniform of jean cut-offs and a flimsy tank top. you spent a little too much time messing with your hair, a little too much time worrying about how you looked, about everything, but as soon as you saw jeremy that worry all melted away.

you had walked downtown, of course, to the ice cream stand towards the end of the pier, which was attached to the pizza place, and therefore run by the same teenagers. you'd made sure to be on time, but it appeared that jeremy had gotten here early.

he was already standing out front, notably not looking at his phone, just looking around, like he was taking everything in. it felt like a privilege, to see him before he saw you, to simply observe him for a second.

it seemed unfair that you still weren't used to what he looked like without his fishing gear on. this other version of him, this more intimate, everyday version, in goofy cargo shorts and some old t-shirt, seemed almost scandalous in comparison. you'd become so enamored with him, so attracted to him, and you'd only seen his arms bare once before.

it didn't help that he appeared to be wearing a suit jacket over his t-shirt, despite the heat that made the air wilt and waver. his hair curled over the tops of his ears, his face flushed with excitement that multiplied exponentially when he spotted you, now just a couple of steps away from him.

his eyes lit up, his body seemed to hum, like a kid waiting in line for a roller-coaster, finally up next. of course, the first thing he did was wrap you up in a hug. of course, the first thing you did was melt into it.

"beauty!" he exclaimed, "you're here!"

you couldn't help the delighted laugh that he pulled from you as you squeezed him tighter before looking up at him. you smiled, and it wasn't the practice-perfect one, the one that worked on everyone. it was a genuine one, the slightly lopsided one, the toothy one that lit you up from the inside out. "'course i did," you said, before your voice took on a teasing tone. you tugged on his lapel. "you dress up for me, jeremy?"

he blushed, slightly, and you wanted to feel the pink under your lips. for now, you settled with tracing your fingertips across his cheeks and nose, a touch he leaned into, ever so slightly. "you said it was a date," he said, simply, like that explained everything. maybe it did. maybe it explained him.

"you look so handsome," you told him, only because you wanted to, only because it was true. and it was worth it, to watch his eyes well up with bashfulness, to see the way his gaze grew boyishly pleased.

"can't think much 'bout how you look," he said, and it came out soft, almost strained, "know how distracted i get."

with that, with both of you making the other flush, he made to hold the door open for you, followed close behind you as you stood in line, surveying the different flavors.

"what's the chef's favorite flavor?" came his voice from behind you, making you scrunch your mouth up in thought.

"the chef loves a good strawberry," you mused, "what about the fisherman?"

he thought for a moment, appeared to be taking this very seriously. "the fisherman gets something different every time," he told you, and this made a lot of sense. that he wouldn't confine himself to a singular order. "and today, i think it's gonna have to be cotton candy."

"cotton candy?" you asked, surprised, amused.

"oh, yeah," he said, didn't stray from his decision, though, as you stepped up to the counter to order. "lukey knows what 'm talkin' about."

he held out his fist for luke to bump with his own, the teenager sighing, like he was used to this. "hey, jeremy," luke said.

jeremy waved him off. "i thought i said you could call me j-money," he said.

"you did say that," luke deadpanned, picking up a scoop. "i just didn't agree to it."

"what's up, j-money?" jenna, the other worker called, approaching now with a wide grin. "what can we get for you?"

jeremy gave her a fist bump, too. "that's more like it, jenner," he said. "and we're gonna do two scoops of strawberry and two scoops of cotton candy, please and thank you." he turned to you, looked at you like he was trying to read your face. "cup and whipped cream for the berry, cone and sprinkles for the candy."

it wasn't what you'd normally get, but you'd never let him know that. "how'd you know?" you asked, stepping to the side so that the line could move along.

he came up behind you, wrapped his arms around your torso, clasped them in front of you, urging you to lean back into his warm chest. you turned your head to the side, peered up at him. "'m physic about these kinds of things," he said, low, like a secret.

"must be," you mused, a quirk of a smile on your lips.

you both got your ice creams, jeremy insisting on paying, also leaving a tip for luke and jenna, urging the closest thing to a smile you'd seen from luke.

you walked together in stride down to the pier, eventually sitting down on the dock, during which he asked about the menu for this week (cherries, corn, and tomatoes were in right now, so those were your focus), how stan was warming up to you (pretty well, if you did say so yourself), how on earth you had gotten tj to be nice to you (you explained that her nice looked different than other people).

in turn, you asked about how the market was doing (well, especially now that scallops and rockfish had begun to make an appearance), what was new with camp (he'd finally gotten luke's younger sister to hold a rod correctly), what trent was up to tonight (his family liked to do board game nights every week).

as the sun began to sink deeper into the sky, and as your ice cream began to melt into a soupy pink at the bottom of your cup, the conversation naturally became a little more substantial, too. you were surprised at how easily you welcomed that from him, surprised how easily you answered questions about how you got into culinary arts (there was something about food that brought people together in a way nothing else did), what your favorite part of being a private chef was (learning new people and places so closely), what your least favorite part was (you'd always wondered what it'd be like to cook for a larger, more diverse audience).

and you asked him about how he had grown so close to the frederics (trent had been his best friend since he was in preschool), what he loved so much about this place (he knew everyone, loved everyone like they were family), what was so special about fishing (there was nothing quite like feeling as if something as powerful as the sea was on your side).

eventually, the sky was saturated with that blood orange haze, the heat had subsided into something much more drowsy, more pleasant, the kind of air that had your gaze lingering on his mouth as he spoke, as he laughed.

the kind of air that had his knee against yours feeling like something much more serious.

you both took last bites of your ice creams, hands sticky and heads clouded with sweetness. you set your cup down, looked up at him again, found the corner of his mouth blue and pink with residue.

"you have, uh, something, right here," you said, motioning on your own mouth where.

he wasn't embarrassed at all, of course he wasn't, as he made to wipe at the wrong side of his mouth. "did i get it?" he asked, his gaze growing heated, hooded.

you gave a slight shake of your head, bit your lip slightly. how shameless could you be, here? how rotten?

time seemed to slow, to liquify as you reached out a delicate hand, gently swiped at his lips until your fingers felt sticky.

pretty shameless, you decided, especially rotten.

you brought your fingers to your own mouth, sucked the sweetness off of them in a moment, watched the way his eyes practically glazed over, the air vibrating between the two of you.

there was no one else on the dock, the sun was almost done setting, its slow descent all but finished. even if there had been other people there, though, you doubt you would have felt their presence, doubt it would have mattered.

there was very little that seemed to matter, now, as you let him tug you onto his lap, facing him. very little that seemed to matter as your eyes searched his, very little that seemed to matter besides the feeling of him, under you, besides his exhales and yours.

"please," he breathed, entranced, like in a dream, and of course you pulled him to you by the lapel of his ridiculous suit jacket, of course your lips met his in a kiss that felt like waltzing through a rainstorm, like equal parts innocent and sinful, like something cinematic, something spectacular.

you wrapped your arms around his neck, urging the softest of noises from his throat, something like a sigh of relief, something like a whimper as one of his hands found the side of your face, the other pressing against the plane of your back, pushing you closer against his chest.

he tasted like sugar and something waxy, from the sprinkles, making you smile against his mouth, almost laugh. you much preferred this to the kisses of gatorade and vodka, of rum and coke from summers past. this was something beautiful, something so entirely him, and you, and no one else.

his mouth slanted across yours like a smirk, easy as a laugh, and when you pulled away, rested your forehead against his, both of your chests were heaving, mirroring swollen lips and flushed cheeks and heated gazes. his thumb drew barely-there hearts into your jawline.

he looked practically blissed out, from only a kiss, the rambler at a complete loss for words. you smiled. oh, to make the sweet-talker speechless.

he gave your cheekbone the lightest pinch, a thousand words you understood in the action, and then it was your turn to be speechless.

there was something monumental in this quiet, the lull of the ocean harmonizing with your exhaling breaths.

this harmony echoed in your head the whole night, into the next morning, when you got a text from jeremy asking if you were free that afternoon.

freddy wants to take the boat out on the lake, he texted, followed by please come, followed by can't stop thinking about you.

so, of course, because you were very much past being able to say no to him, and because you had finished your work for the day by three, you found yourself on the smaller dock on the lake, dressed for the heat, a swimsuit under your shorts and tank, your bag slung over your shoulder.

tj stood next to you, mumbling something about how you had conveniently left out whose boat this was, to which you mumbled something back about how she probably should have guessed it.

"sunshine?" that odd voice called out once the two of you approached. "didn't know you were comin' out."

"finally got somethin' i can use, eh?" tj said, that sharp tongue quicker than ever.

"should'a warned me," trent shot right back, "would'a worn my five inchers." tj rolled her eyes as jeremy hopped down onto the dock, immediately enveloping you in one of his hugs that you had come to crave.

"hey," you said into his chest, rubbed careful circles into his back.

he pulled back slightly, planted messy kisses on your cheeks and nose until you were giggling. "missed you," he said against your jaw.

"missed you, too," you told him, because it was the truth.

the memory of last night sat between the two of you like a weighted mist, like a velvety curtain, making your stomach flip, making his embrace feel hot. the heat was cut by a familiar voice.

"no wandering hands, frederic," tj said to trent with a warning finger as he made to help her into the boat, placing his hands on her waist.

he rolled his eyes. "relax, sunshine," he said, lifting her smoothly and placing her down, slapping the side of her thigh playfully. "these hands don't wander." his eyes grew teasing. "they know exactly where they're going."

tj scoffed and made to set her things down on the bench at the front of the boat as jeremy crouched down in front of you.

"hop on," he said, grunting slightly as you wrapped your arms around him. he held onto your legs, pushing up as you laid your cheek against the back of his neck. you hadn't had a piggyback ride in ages, and it was just as fun as you remembered.

jeremy stepped up onto the small deck area, walking you up to the front, shifting you and setting you down gracefully on the bench, next to tj.

"thank you," you said, giving him a smile as you put your bag down.

he winked at you. "anytime, beauty."

the lake was stunning this afternoon, like the inside of a snow-globe, without the fake powdery snow.

it was an afternoon distinct in its easiness.

easy, how you and tj chatted about where you'd gotten your swimsuits, you launching into a story that involved a surf shop in nantucket.

easy, when jeremy asked you to help him with his sunscreen. how you gently rubbed the white lotion onto his forehead, his cheeks, how he laughed when you scrunched up your face at the smell, how you squealed when he nipped at your fingers.

easy, how, when the sun began its drowsy dip, the temperature stirring slightly, trent dropped his zip-up hoodie on tj's shoulders and told her to "knock it off and put it on, teej," before she could argue.

easy, how trent insisted that the food you'd brought for them was the best he'd had, even though it was just sandwiches and fruit. how tj said she knew there was a reason she was friends with you, immediately citing the way you'd cut up melon into perfect cubes. easy, how jeremy's lips on yours tasted like watermelon, that afternoon.

it was a beautiful day, through and through, filled with refreshingly-chilly swims and hours laying out in the tart lemony sunshine, until you felt pleasantly tired, until you felt the weight of the day in your limbs, the evidence of a day laughing in your throat and voice.

at some point, jeremy had pulled you onto his lap by the slinky strings of your swimsuit bottom, shifted you until you sat on one of his firm thighs, your legs crossed over the other as you leaned your side into his bare chest. you'd thrown one arm around his neck, tracing your nails over his shoulder, his collarbone.

this, sitting with him like this, like neither of you were really quite sure where one of you ended and the other began, this was easy as breathing. you had nothing to prove to each other, and you felt that lightness like a breeze.

the two of you watched tj and trent bicker with knowing smiles. you commented on what songs were playing from tj's speaker, your favorite concerts you'd been to. you talked about your plans for tomorrow.

when jeremy felt you shiver, he helped you shoulder on the sweater he'd brought.

"you won't be cold?" you asked, balling up the soft fabric in your fists. he only shook his head, kissed your temple, making your smile come easy.

"i run hot, beauty," he said, shifting you closer.

you hummed, feeling just about ready to fall asleep in his arms. "i know," you told him, pressing your lips to his chest, the underside of his strong jaw, which made his exhale shaky. you smiled. "my own heater," you whispered.

"anything for you," he breathed into your ear.

it was almost too much, this confession of his that seemed to get you, every time, combined with the feeling of him all around you, under you, his bare skin against your palms. almost. just enough.

just enough that when you were back on dry land, when the sun had set, when trent and tj had insisted that they'd pack everything up, jeremy's gaze on your frame felt like fire. enough that his grip on your waist felt heavy, made your stomach twist with want. enough that you told him you'd walk back to his place with him, if only to get a couple more seconds in his presence.

until you stood in front of his door, and the air seeming to bend around you like refracting light. you looked up at him, his eyes leaden with desire.

and it was sort of weird, because what was so different about him was how he made you feel younger, more innocent, less of the heartbreaker and more of the easy-to-smile sap.

was it odd that there was something sort of innocent in the purity of the want you felt, then? that there was something almost angelic about just how deeply you wanted him, how it was so undiluted by any other motive. you wanted him because of him, and because of you, and because of everything that had led you to this moment.

did you imagine the halo of light around his head as his gaze caught on your mouth, like a snag on a record player?

"d'you wanna come in?" he murmured.

did you imagine the way that halo melted into something like mischievous horns when you nodded, let him reach around you to unlock the door, lead you inside?

and you'd pause, for a moment, think about how this was technically the first time you'd been in his place, about how much it meant that he had offered this piece of himself to you, about how you wanted him to see your apartment back home, some time.

but that pause would stretch like putty, like something you could hold, when his voice would come out rough, choked, when he would ask, "do you want a tour?"

and you'd tilt your head, like you knew something he didn't, as he'd switch on the hallway light. you'd lean back against the wall, wait for him to settle, right in front of you, a breath apart. "no," you'd say, softly. "later, maybe."

his gaze would grow thicker, and he'd lay a light hand on your hip, boxing you against the wall with his frame. "what do you want, beauty?" you'd reach up, lay an arm around his neck, tugging him down to you. "tell me."

"let me show you, hm?" you'd breathe, and he'd give a desperate sort of nod that'd have you clashing together in a kiss of teeth and flame and fairy-floss sweetness.

now, you whimpered into his mouth as his grip on you grew more forceful, more intentional. he pulled you flush against him, wide hands clutching at your thigh, rooting in your hair.

you hooked a leg around his hip, to which he moaned, his mouth falling open wider, neck falling back, allowing you better access. you left open-mouth kisses down his jaw, his neck, his slight stubble rough under your lips, your teeth, your tongue, as you nipped and sucked, relishing in the noises you drew from him, whimper-ish moans cut with breathy pants.

he was already impossibly hard across your front, you could feel how affected he was by this, by you. it made you smile. it made you pull away, barely, for a second. you brushed his eyelids with your fingertips, willed them to flutter open.

"lost you, there," you said, your voice rough. you were acutely aware of the slow, almost undetectable grind of his hips against you, even though it seemed as if he was doing it subconsciously.

he gave a short shake of his head. "not lost," he rasped, holding the side of your face in his palm. "'m here, beauty, swear it." and maybe lost wasn't the right word, maybe it was something close to blissed out, maybe even fucked out, even from just a kiss, a couple marks on his neck.

"good," you said, and you certainly didn't miss the way his eyes darkened. "then will you let me-"

"yes," he said, before you could finish, which tugged a laugh from your lips, somehow more significant, more telling than any moan could be. he took you by the hand and pulled you to his bedroom.

"didn't let me finish, rotten boy," you teased, to which something like sorrow flashed in his eyes.

"'m sorry, beauty," he said, shutting the door behind him, pulling you onto his lap as he sat on the foot of his bed, and it was something sort of innocent, to be having this same conversation, again. "please, please, tell me what you need."

you massaged the muscles in his shoulders gently with your palms as you shifted on his lap. "need you in my mouth, jeremy," you said, the words heavy in their honesty, weighted when spoken through swollen lips. "let me make out with your cock, yeah?" and there was that glassy look again, simultaneously like he was somewhere far away and in the palm of your hand. you sunk to your knees in front of him, peered up at him through your lashes. "please?"

"fuck," he bit out, tugged and twisted his clothes aside. "yeah, beauty. yeah, you can."

you smiled as you took him in your hands, spit onto his cock, pumped your gentle grip up and down, watched the way his head fell back, the way his thighs clenched when you dug your nails into one to ground you.

that slick, lewd sound echoed in your head, making you aware of how wet you were, how potent the desire inside you had become.

you ran your tongue up the length of him, could have laughed at how his choked exhale gave you butterflies, instead took all of him in your mouth, held your head down until you felt resistance, hollowed out your cheeks.

when was the last time you had done this with a fire in your stomach? the last time you'd wanted, more than anything, to make it so, so good for someone?

you'd known you were good at this, for so long, that you couldn't remember the last time you'd sucked someone off like you had something to prove.

that's what it felt like, now, with the hard, hot weight of him on your tongue. i'd work for you, you seemed to be screaming, i'd let you work for me.

his rooted grip on your scalp was firm, warm. "fuck, beauty, like that," he groaned, the other hand coming to rest on top of yours, on his thigh. like a reminder than he was truly present, that the act of you, like this, wasn't lost on him. like he understood. like he was grateful.

you tilted your head to the side, forced him deeper, the tip running along the inside of your cheek. his neck rolled at the sensation, making you pick your head up off of him, continue to run your hands over his cock, wet with your spit, look up at his flushed face. "like this, baby?" you asked, your movements painfully slow. "bein' so good for me, hm?"

he was nodding, and when he spoke, it was a whine. "please, beauty, can i see you?" he asked, "wanna see all of you, need it."

you were long past being able to deny him something he needed so deliriously, so you let him pull your shirt over your heart, tug your shorts aside, paw at the strings of your swimsuit until there was nothing obstructing his view of you.

you pulled at the edge of his shirt, helped him out of it, and sighed at the sight, at the already darkening bruises on his neck, the solidity of his stomach and chest.

his gaze had grown awestruck, and you found yourself embarrassed, sort of, maybe just restless, at the heaviness of his eyes on you, coating you like a red candy apple.

"get my good side," you managed, throat rough, voice rougher, a smile on your face at the nostalgia of the moment, how you'd been here before.

he laughed, then, a genuine one, pulled you to his chest and kissed you, so gentle and soft your heart sprouted angel wings. "never seen anything so pretty," he mumbled against your lips, urging a flush you felt up your neck.

you grinned, not the one that worked on everyone. the one that worked because it was for him. "please, can i have-"

"yes," he said, and it sent both of you into breathy laughs, because how many times would he say yes to you before knowing what you were asking? then he flipped you onto your back, though, the cottony fabric soft under you. "yeah, beauty, you can have me inside you."

you wanted to ask him how he'd known, but then he dragged his fingers through your folds, found you practically dripping, caught his thumb on your clit, making you jolt. "please," you moaned, "dyin' for it, baby, 'm soaked for you."

"don't need to beg me, beauty," he said, running the head of his cock along your center, making you whimper. his grin grew wicked. "sound so pretty when you do, though."

your reply would have been witty, you were sure of it, but it was mangled, torn from your throat in a strangled sound when he pushed inside of you, finally, slowly, making you clutch at his shoulder for something to hold onto.

the stretch grew as he pushed further into you, until you felt him in your bloodstream, in the back of your head like a memory, in your palms.

"fuck," you bit out, "fuck, just there, hm? stretch me out, baby, want it so bad."

he finally bottomed out, fluttered his molten eyes open again. you watched them soften when they regained focus on you, witnessed yourself become his beacon, calling him home from dreamland.

he pulled back slowly, pushed forward again, began a slow rhythm that had your head spinning, had your vision clouding over, sun showers exploding behind your eyes at the impossible stretch.

time oozed like strawberry jam, thick, you almost expected the clock on the wall to stop ticking entirely, for its face to stare back at you, frozen.

"how's that, beauty?" he rasped, at some point, when his pace had progressed into something more mind-numbing, when your thighs began to feel the start of the coming-soreness, when his stomach and shoulders started to contract and tense in the most delicious way. "that good?"

you nodded, choked on a whimper when he moved his hand to your lower stomach, stretched his thumb to swipe methodically at your clit. "that's, fuck," you tried, exhaling shakily, "fuck, that's so good, baby, you're so good."

you clenched around him, making him stutter, his hips jerking. "won't last like this," he warned, "can't, beauty, feel too perfect. too, fuck, too perfect for me."

he pressed you down harder until you could feel the outline of the mattress against your shoulder blades. "'m close, too," you breathed. "just need, just-"

your words were lost as he dragged the heel of his hand along your clit and back, the friction so stunning that your fingers twitched. "please cum, beauty," he pleaded, like he needed it, like he'd die for it. "cum on my cock, yeah?" you practically writhed around him. "fuck, give me it, hm?"

your high came abruptly and brutally, so sharp and consuming you barely registered his own orgasm, the warmth and sensation of it, the way he dipped his head down to bite gently on your chest, just sharp enough to leave a mark. you only really noticed the way the heavy weight of his body collapsed onto yours, pinning you between his damp chest and the bed.

breaths came slowly and drowsily, as you regained a sense of the room, of time, of space, as he rolled over slightly, just to give you more air, laid a massive arm on the outside of your thigh, pulled you half on top of him.

he looked so beautiful, then, a glossy adoring gaze paired with swollen lips, traces of your mouth all over him. you had a feeling you looked in a similar way, fussed hair and watery eyes.

you could have stayed there for hours, the measure seemed irrelevant, as he palmed, kneaded your thigh softly, as you twisted his messy curls around a finger.

at some point, he brought his free hand up, pinched at his own cheek.

you smiled at the cyclical sense of it all. "you're not dreaming," you rasped.

"oh, i know," he said, a smug, lazy grin peeking through his lips before he turned his cheek to you, expectantly. "i still think you should kiss it better, though."

butterflies stirred in your stomach as you gave a playful roll of your eyes, leaned your head forward to press your lips to his cheek.

"rotten," you breathed.

"for you," he clarified.

dreamland had nothing on here. on this.

you know, i hear she used to be a real heartbreaker, the big hand on the clock whispered, low and secretive.

really? the little hand said, shocked, her? there was a pause. what happened?

the big hand shrugged. don't know, it said. shame.

a real shame.

fin.

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