#Her name's Jo by the way and I love her to death

[redpanda-redpanda]

Share Your Last Seven Lines/Heads Up, Seven Up

Thanks for tagging me @leng-m! Glad to see you're writing, especially after the 10k disaster. ❤️ I've actually been poking at a new story, one about a girl who hunts monsters, so this was really fun.

I had been walking for only a short time when the scream pierced the dawn.

I froze on the path, and then, low under my breath, I cursed.

It was not a human scream – it was too high-pitched for that, more like a jungle cat with a clattering, creaking, clacking hiss twisting round it. I had been told that the village of Lesa was experiencing monster troubles, but I had not expected to run into it just yet.

My hand tightened atop my cane. Even now, after nearly three years of forcing myself to go toward trouble instead of away, it wasn’t easy. I put one foot in front of the other, as quickly as I was able, but before I could get very far, a shape parted the mist and hurried toward me.

I'm gonna tag anyone else who wants to do it because I always need more writer friends. :)

[kiss-theggoat]

Would you write for Thomas Hewitt ?

A/N: I just recently watched this version and hubba hubba I’m in love with Mr Thomas Hewitt. I’ve only seen this one twice, so if some characters are out of character, I apologize! I hope you like it as much as I do bc this boy deserves better!

Bluebonnets

Thomas Hewitt x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: You and your friends stopped for gas in a rinky dink little town in Texas, but the Hewitt family thinks that you’d be perfect for their little Tommy.

TW: Violence and Gore, Death, Hoyt is a pervert, Cannibalism, Sort of Stockholm Syndrome, Ends with fluff

The sun beat down on your face as you laid your head back against the rough leather seat, deeply regretting the fact that you agreed to drive in a convertible through Texas in the middle of August. Your sweat broke through the barrier of sunblock, leaving your skin sticky and shiny, the humid wind doing absolutely nothing to cool you off.

“We’re almost outta gas!” Johnny yelled, his hand on Sue’s thigh. She rolled her eyes and scoffed at him. “I thought we gassed up in Austin!”

He shrugged. “We did. Getting bad gas mileage I guess!”

She groaned, throwing her head back in frustration. You were relieved to finally get out of the car and into some sort of building, hopefully with air conditioning. You sat in the back, squished against the side of the car by Tyler and Ginny making out, taking up almost the entire seat. You felt a little bit fifth-wheel-y, but you knew your friends would’ve given you so much shit if you refused to come.

Johnny pointed to a sign up ahead, faded and cracked from the relentless Texas sun. In light pink, what used to be red, the sign said, ‘GAS AND BARBECUE NEXT EXIT’. Johnny laughed, squeezing Sue’s thigh with a sweaty palm. “Barbecue, babe! Let’s go!”

Sue sighed. “Fine.” She turned to everyone in the back, and you saw that she was just as sweaty as you, tanned skin shining in the sunlight. “Everyone okay with stopping here.”

For some reason, this got on your nerves. You didn’t know if it was the fact that you’d been in the car for six hours or the fact that you were baking like a casserole in 100 degree weather. Or maybe it was the fact that everyone in the car was giving eachother fuck-me eyes, like a sick joke you weren’t apart if. And, on top of that, the last thing you wanted after being in 86 percent humidity was fucking barbecue. “Where the hell else are we going to stop? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

Sue gave you a look before you were interrupted by Ginny. “Here’s fine, babe!” She smiled at Sue, her lips red and swollen from being absolutely ravished by her scrawny boyfriend. You crossed your arms and laid your head back down, trying your best to meditate your way out of this road trip.

You guess it worked because before you knew it, you were pulling into the run-down gas station, car switching off with an alarming squeal. You hopped out of the car, not bothering to talk to any of your friends, and went inside. Your stomach turned. Instead of the blissful air conditioning you were yearning for, you were smacked in the face by the putrid smell of rotting meat. Flies buzzed around your face, and you swore it was hotter in here than it was outside.

Looking around, there was a convenience store area, a case to your left with meat inside, and a little old lady sitting behind the counter. You took a deep, stabilizing breath. You were pissed and over this trip, but you knew better than to take it out on some poor unsuspecting stranger. You put on a smile and walked towards her, pulling your shorts further down your thighs. The old lady looked up at you and then back down at her book, before doing a double take. She took her glasses off, then gave you a small smile.

“Hi sweetie. What can I do for you?”

She’s nice, you thought. You liked when old ladies called you cute names. You smiled brighter at her, feeling relieved that one person was making you feel actual joy on this trip. “Hi, ma’am. Is there a bathroom here.”

“Yes, hun, it’s outside, around the side of the station.” She said, handing you a key ring. You tried not to let your face scrunch in disgust, but you were pretty sure there was a real rabbit's foot on this thing. You grabbed the key from her, avoiding the furry foot, and told her, “Thank you so much. My friends are also going to use the restroom so I’ll have this back in a few minutes.” She nodded at you, going back to her book.

You pushed the door open, actually relieved to be outside. You welcomed the smell of dust that Texas had gotten you used to instead of the rancid steaks. As you walked towards the bathroom, Sue grabbed your arm, making you jump. “What the hell is up with you?” She asked, staring at you accusingly.

You sighed, feeling better after your pleasant exchange with the old woman. “I’m sorry for being snippy. I’m just tired and hot and…done being in the car.” You said quietly, shaking her off to go towards the dilapidated bathroom.

“You can have the front seat from now on, you can actually feel the AC a little bit sometimes.” She said, following you.

You put the key in the door and twisted it. “It’s okay. The sun goes down in like…an hour and a half? It should cool down.” The moment the door swung open, you were hit with that same raunchy smell. You put a hand over your nose and grimaced, “It smells like this inside too…” you sighed, slowly walking into the single stall bathroom.

You couldn’t have pissed faster. You quickly washed up and nearly sprinted from the bathroom back towards the car, holding your face the entire time. The cheap soap from your hands also smelled bad, but compared to the smell of the bathroom, it was like the world's most expensive perfume. “Uhm…does anyone else need to use the bathroom? I have to return the key.”

Everyone shook their heads, but Johnny spoke up. “We’ll go with you. We’ll get food and pay for the gas.”

You nodded and opened the door to the station for everyone, watching in amusement as all of their faces twisted with disgust just as yours did when you first smelled it. The old lady looked up again, and instead of her smile she wore a sneer as she watched Johnny walk up to her. “We need twenty dollars on pump one.” He said, not looking at her and pulling out his wallet.

“We don’t have gas.” She said quickly and coldly, holding her book up in front of him. “Haven’t for a couple weeks.”

Johnny scoffed in disbelief, tossing his hands down on the counter. “So you’re the only gas station for 100 miles and you don’t have any gas?”

She shrugged, not answering.

“Well, when are you gonna have gas?” Ginny asked, also putting her hands on the counter.

“Could be a week. Maybe more.”

Johnny looked down in the case, noticing the green meat and flies swarming. “So no gas and I’m guessing…” he tapped aggressively on the glass. “No barbecue?”

The old lady took her glasses off again, irritated. “We got food.” She pointed behind your group to shelves of food that looked like it was from the 1940’s.

Johnny laughed, head rolling back. “You’ve got to be kidding me, lady! You have to take that sign down if everything is a fucking lie!”

You stepped forward, putting an arm in front of Johnny’s torso and pushing him away from the counter slightly. “I’m sorry ma’am. We’ll find somewhere else to go, thank you for your help and letting us use the restroom.” You said, sliding the key back over the counter. You felt bad for her. Obviously this town wasn’t a money pit, and maybe she did have a popular place before, but it looks like everything’s gone out of business. Maybe she’s barely surviving, the last thing she needs is five twenty-something year olds harassing her for things she can’t control.

She gave you her attention, unlike your friends. She smiled at you, grabbing the key back from you. “Thank you, young lady. You’re very polite. Maybe you could teach your friends there some manners.” She said, pointing to Johnny and Ginny with her glasses. Johnny scoffed and started to yell something, but you quickly yanked on his shoulder to usher them out of the building. You nodded at the woman with a smile before leaving. You bumped into Johnny’s back hard, wondering why the hell he stopped in front of you like that.

You moved out from behind him to see a cop. “Great, the old hag called the cops!” Johnny groaned, only shutting up when Sue rubbed his bicep. You never liked Johnny.

“We ain’t get no call folks. Came here for some refreshments.” The cop said, pointing to his badge. “And I ain’t just any cop. Sheriff. Sheriff Hoyt.”

Johnny sighed, nodding. “Okay, Sheriff. Where’s the nearest gas station? This dump doesn’t have gas.”

“It ain’t nice to disrespect someone’s business, boy.” The sheriff scowled, spitting black tobacco onto the concrete. You could feel your heart rate rising, you knew that Johnny was going to get you in trouble somehow. You looked around, finally seeing the sheriff’s cruiser parked behind the convertible. As you peered inside, you noticed a man sitting in the passenger seat. You couldn’t see him too well, but he was large, blocking up pretty much the entire window.

“It’s hardly a business. Pretty sure there’s botflies inside, could kill someone.” Johnny started to walk away, but the Sheriff stepped in front of him to block his path. “What’s your fucking problem?”

The sheriff stared into Johnny’s eyes, scowling. You could sense the tension, and decided you’d be the peace keeper of the day. “Sir…sir, we’re sorry. We’re just almost out of gas and we’ve been traveling for a long time.” You said, stepping towards the Sheriff.

His eyes raked over you, making you feel sort of icky. You wished you were wearing a winter coat, despite the heat. He spit again, a gross squelch breaking the silence. “Finally someone with some manners.”

Johnny laughed, “What the fuck is up with old people and manners?! Jesus Christ, we just need gas!” He yelled, shoving the Sheriff’s shoulder. You gasped, grabbing Johnny’s arm but in the blink of an eye, a revolver was being pointed at Johnny’s face. Everyone froze, staring at the firearm.

“Now are you gonna show some respect, boy? I’m the Sheriff of this town and I’m not gonna tolerate a group of hoodlums messin’ things up.” He said, voice hushed, almost a whisper.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, sir. We’re leaving. Let’s go.” You moved towards the car, but the Sheriff stopped you.

“Y’all think you can just stroll into a town, cause trouble, and go?” He laughed, cocking the gun with a haunting click. “Tommy!” He yelled, turning his head towards the car. The door slowly opened and you watched as a mammoth of a man stepped out, dress shirt and apron giving him an even larger silhouette. He wore a mask with messy brown hair, broad shoulders slouched. Your heart skipped a beat. Wrong situation to think this, but the man was quite handsome. You’d always liked bigger men.

“Please sir…we don’t want any trouble. We’d just like to be on our way, we’ll leave and never come back.” You pleaded, hands out in front of you. Gravel crunched beneath the huge man’s feet as he walked towards your group. The sheriff turned to him. “Whadya think Tommy?” He asked with a cruel cackle.

The ringing of a bell made you turn back towards the station, and you saw the old lady standing there. She held her reading glasses, and pointed at you with them. Your heart dropped. What did this mean? You turned back to the sheriff, and he looked just as confused as you did. She scoffed at his confusion. She wanted to tell him something, but didn’t want you and your friends to hear it. She waddled over slowly, but Johnny had other ideas. He spun quickly, hitting the sheriff’s arm, but unfortunately, it didn’t cause him to drop the gun. Tyler started to run, Ginny tried to help Johnny, and Sue grabbed your arm. “Let’s go! We need to run!” She yelled.

Your ears rang at the close range of the gunshot, you fell to your knees, scraping them, and covered your ears with your hands. You heard a scream, immediately recognizing it as Sue. You turned around to see Johnny, laying on the dirt with blood pooling around him, a perfect bullet wound in the center of his forehead. You felt nauseous, but you couldn’t move. Looking up, you saw the smoking revolver gripped tight in the sheriff's hand, now focused on Sue. She was hunched over Johnny’a body, sobbing and screaming, the tears making trails of clean skin as they wiped away the thin layer of dust.

Somewhere to your right, another scream. Ginny. You saw the large man, who the Sheriff called Tommy, holding her up in the air on his shoulder. She banged against his chest with knees and hit his back with her fists, thrashing and screaming. On his other arm, he held the limp body of Tyler, blood dripping from his head and beading in the dust, tucked beneath his armpit. This man carried two grown adults effortlessly, his strength scared the hell out of you. You didn’t even see if he had a weapon, but he managed to take them both down.

You sat in terror. You wanted to run, but with a revolver focused on your head, what were your options. The old lady appeared on your left, hand touching the Sheriff’s shoulder. She leaned in to whisper, but you heard her.

“Don’t touch her. Keep her for Tommy.”

Keep her for Tommy? What the fuck did that mean? You stared up at them in fear and watched as he groaned, pointing the gun at Sue instead. She didn’t even look phased, too focused on her boyfriend’s dead body. Tommy loaded the other two into the back of the car, and then made his way back towards you. Tears welled in your eyes as he approached, his shadow looming over you and finally blocking you from the sun. As he got closer, you saw the detail in his face and clothes. He had pretty eyes and his hair looked soft, but his bloody clothes and tight leather mask contrasted the softness of the rest of him.

He grabbed your arm in a surprisingly soft grip, the only thing disconcerting about his touch was the slickness from the blood that he left on your skin. He pulled you towards the car, and it was obvious he wanted you to follow. The old woman put a hand on his shoulder and affectionately patted his chest, he leaned down to her level. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek and told him, “She’s perfect for you, Tommy.”

You finally realized what was going on. They were setting you up with him, like you and your friends were on some sort of sick dating game. You stumbled as you followed him to the cop car, his head was down and his shoulders were slumped as he opened the front passenger side and moved aside. You looked up at him. He wanted you to get in, but he didn’t put you in the back like you thought he would, and for that, you were grateful. The last thing you wanted to do was sit beside the bleeding, passed out bodies of two of your friends.

You took a seat in the scalding car, body swaying with the force that he shut the door. He stood in front of the door as if keeping watch, like a prison guard. You stared in horror as the sheriff finally had enough with Sue, giving her the same fate as Johnny. She laid on his chest, her blood mixing with his as the sheriff walked away from their bodies. You were grateful you were far away from them, both because you didn’t want to see your best friend die, and your ears were still ringing from the first gunshot.

The sheriff entered the car, flashing you a creepy smirk before you felt Tommy enter the backseat. You stared out the window, definitely in shock and confused. Just twenty minutes ago the worst of your problems was having to pee on a road trip and now you just watched all of your friends either die or be brutally attacked by someone who is supposed to protect the community. You had a feeling he wasn’t a real sheriff, given the nature of the recent events.

You laid your head against the door. You hadn’t noticed how tired you were, but you guessed experiencing something like that would be hard on your body. Feeling fairly confident that they wouldn’t kill you, you drifted off to sleep as he drove who knows where.

You only woke up to the sound of a door slamming and you realized that it was dark outside. You had no idea where you were or how long you’d been driving, but you felt disgusting. Cheeks stiff with tears, nose running, mouth dry and eyes burning. Your door opened and you were being yanked out by the sheriff, who was much rougher with you than Tommy was. You winced at how tight he was holding you as he dragged you towards a fairly large country style home.

The door was kicked open and you saw the same old woman from the station holding a pot of food. “Finally, Charlie. Tommy had to help cook.” She scoffed, setting the pot down at the large dining room table, where an old man already sat.

“Dammit, Luda Mae, I told you! It’s Sheriff Hoyt! You hear me!” He yelled, hitting the wall with his free hand, making you jump. You were putting the pieces together. There was Hoyt, or Charlie apparently, Tommy, Luda Mae, and then this old man. They lived together, probably related.

You looked around, saw the table full of food, dusty knickknacks, bones hanging from the ceiling. It all felt like a sick mix of home and hell. The rugs and the quilts on the plush couches looked knit, and the lamps give the room a comforting glow. If you weren’t here under these circumstances, you might find this house cozy.

Hoyt forced you to the table, plopping you down across from the old man already seated. He tied your wrists to the chair with leather straps that were bolted in. Obviously, this wasn’t their first time offense. Your fingertips began to cool with how tight the leather was cinched, and you whimpered at the pain. Luda Mae sat next to the old man, smiling at you.

“Oh dear. The moment I saw you, I knew that my Thomas would like you. We’re so happy to have you here.” She sounded genuinely happy, and you couldn’t help feeling sorry for this family. You heard Hoyt bang in something and yell Tommy’s name, then a loud sliding sound. Thomas walked into the dining room and took a seat next to you, across from Luda Mae. Hoyt took the head of the table, standing over the pot with a giant ladle.

“Well thanks to this pretty lady…” he said, winking at you, warning a scoff from Luda Mae, “and all of her friends… we’ll have dinner for the next couple a’ weeks!” He grabbed Thomas’ bowl and dropped in a ladle full, then the same with Luda Mae’s. As he served you, you noticed large chunks of game-y looking meat inside of your stew. Surely he didn’t mean….

You stared in horror at your food, lips sealed shut in fear that you may vomit. Your mouth watered with the insatiable urge to throw up everywhere, and you felt a cold sweat break out on your forehead. You watched as everyone dug in, eating with a fervor that said they’d been starving for a month. They moaned in joy at the flavor of the food, occasionally complimenting Thomas or Luda Mae for the cooking. Only you and Thomas weren’t eating. He because he didn’t want to remove his mask in front of you, and you because you weren’t really on board with cannibalism.

“Don’t be ungrateful, boy. Eat your damn dinner!” Hoyt yelled, a cooked carrot flying from his mouth onto the table as he slammed his hand down. Thomas jumped and put his hands near his face, like he was expecting to be hit. Your heart ached for him. It was obvious he didn’t want to do this. He wasn’t evil like the rest of them, he was forced to do this. You watched him slowly unbuckle the leather strap of his mask and slide it off, revealing a scarred face, exposed nose cartilage and teeth, mangled jaw bones. You felt terrible watching him keep his face down, hair covering it. He was ashamed.

He picked up a spoon, but still didn’t eat. He just stirred the stew. Obviously you wouldn’t know this, but he didn’t want to eat in front of you, because eating was a little difficult for him. He was more prone to spilling food on himself or getting messy and spilling down his chin. Not exactly the way to impress your new date.

You swore that Hoyt was turning red with rage. “Dammit boy! Your momma made this dinner and you’re just gonna stare at it?!” He growled, slapping Thomas upside the head. Anger filled your chest as you watched Thomas cover his head, eyes clenched shut. What made you even angrier is that Luda Mae and the old man just sat there, eating like nothing was wrong.

“Don’t hit him.” You said. Your throat was hoarse, you haven't talked in a while.

“Fuck you say to me, girl?”

You looked Hoyt in the eyes. “I said…don’t hit him.”

He sneered and leaned over the table, knocking the spoon from his empty bowl. “Oh I see…Tommy needs his little girlfriend to defend him, huh? Listen here, you little bitch-“

“Hoyt, be kind to our guest.” Luda Mae said, eating the last of her potato. She looked over at you, and then at Thomas. She was happy that you stood up for him.

Hoyt laughed at her, shaking his head. “Pathetic.” He grumbled, throwing his bowl to the center of the table. “Neither of ya wanna eat dinner? Fine!” He walked over to Thomas and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back, and with the other hand, he grabbed his mask. He slammed his mask hard against Thomas’s face, making him wince. “Ya can just go back to your little fuckin’ basement then.”

He walked over to you, roughly unstrapping your wrists. Blood flowed back into the white spots, and you knew it’d bruise. “And take your bitch with ya.” He growled, shoving you over towards Thomas. Thomas had just finished securing his mask, and he gently grabbed your sore wrist. You followed him while looking behind your back, staring spitefully at Hoyt, who shamelessly watched your ass as you walked away.

Thomas slid a huge wooden door out of the way and led you down a staircase. The basement smelled rancid, like stale metal and rotting meat. As you walked in, you knew why. Weapons hung from the ceiling, a workbench in the center of the room. Blood coated the entire floor, and some dropped steadily from the table, giving you the sound like a very messed up metronome. A bed in the corner called your name despite the stained mattress. It had no pillows, no sheets, no blankets. You looked at Thomas.

“You…sleep here?” You asked meekly and watched as he gave you a very tiny nod, looking at the bed. He led you over to it, and held your shoulders, sitting you down. He let you sit there for a second and then he walked away, going to sit in a chair on the other side of the room next to his work table. He wanted you to sleep in his bed, but he wasn’t going to?

Your chest swelled with the kindness of this poor man. A pure soul forced into the mud by his corrupt family. You stood up and took a step towards him. “I don’t want to take your bed. It’s yours.”

He shook his head and walked back to you, grabbing your shoulders again to sit you down. You gave in because the feeling of this stained, thin mattress was like heaven, despite the fact that you could feel the springs digging into your back as you laid down. You stared at him for a moment as he began to rummage through items on his shelf. Your eyes began to close, eyelids feeling like they had ten pound weights attached.

He turned around, holding something small and dainty in his large and veiny hands. He sat at your feet, a gentle hand placed on your ankle. You glanced down at him as he held out a dried Bluebonnet to you. You smiled softly and took it from him, feeling its soft stem and looking at its pretty periwinkle petals. “Thank you…” you mumbled sleepily.

You thought, just before you fell asleep, that there were two things in this basement that didn’t belong. Everything in this house was drenched in blood and fear and grime, this basement was disgusting and horrifying. But, in all of the terror, you had this beautiful Bluebell, a reminder of the open, sweet smelling fields of Texas, and even more pure, you had Thomas.

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Four - Bunny

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

1.9K

Warnings: smut! P in v! Oral (male!receiving)

Series Masterlist

Max hated these kinds of meetings. Standing by his fathers side, looking like some loyal dog. But he came when he was called, so what more was he?

As ever, Max stood at his fathers side, waiting for Dupont and his guest to arrive. The Verstappen meeting room was pathetic. It was designed like a throne room, with Max stood beside the 'Throne' as his father looked down on his guests.

It was meant to make Jos feel powerful, Max knew. It made him smirk. The only reason his father had power in the first place was because of his kill streak, something Max had quite easily already doubled.

The doors flew open and Dupont strode in. It was like something out of a period piece, the way he approached Jos' 'Throne'. Max half expected him to drop onto his knee, head bowed and hand on the pommel of a sword that wasn't there.

That, of course, didn't happen.

"Dupont," called Jos, his demeaner that same calm that he usually wore in front of his guests. Max knew a different side of his father, the side that would strike first and ask questions later. Even against his own children. "You don't normally travel alone."

Looking back on it, the smile Dupont wore was sickening. He was lucky Max didn't shoot him where he stood. Given another chance, if he could have gone back and done it all over again, he would have.

"Verstappen, you know I never travel alone," said Dupont, that sickening smile widening. The doors were thrown open again, and Max hated the way his breath caught in his throat.

She couldn't have been there. She knew Charles Leclerc, but that meant nothing. Why the fuck was she here?

"This is my daughter," said Dupont as she came to stand beside him. He announced her name to the room and she finally looked up, finally looked at Max.

He bit his tongue as she looked at him, recognition crossing her face. But she easily schooled her features, that pretty smile he hadn't stopped thinking about since he met her crossing her lips. "It is lovely to meet you, sir," she said as she strode towards Jos with her hand outstretched.

In Jos' typical, misogynistic fashion, he ignored her in favour of her father. "Isn't this a treat?" Called Jos as Max took her hand in his, shook it and squeezed. He hoped it was at least a little reassuring. "Much more my style than your usual company."

The polite, pretty smile dropped from her face at that. She returned to her fathers side, but even that didn't make her feel safe. Max could see it by the look on her face. She didn't belong in this room, a room that had seen so much destruction and death, standing with the men that had caused it.

Max stepped towards his fathers 'Throne'. He leaned down and whispered something in Jos' ear. When Jos nodded, he stepped towards the Duponts. Stopping in front of her, he offered her his hand.

When her father nodded, she took Max's hand and allowed herself to be led out of the room. "Hey, Bun," he whispered as he pulled the door shut behind them. And suddenly, she was shy beneath his gaze. "Why didn't you tell me you were going to be here?"

"Well, I didn't know," she said as she stepped towards him, hands smoothing over his suit jacket. "If I knew you were gonna be here, I would have been a lot more willing."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, but Max gently removed them. "Angel," he said, the nickname easily slipping from his lips. "I'm not started a war with Charles Leclerc because he think's I'm stepping on his toes."

She glared at a spot on his white shirt, someone else's blood that had definitely stained. "Charlie always ruins my fun," she mumbled and folded her arms over her chest. "That asshole can't even let me have fun in a completely different country."

Max didn't try to hide his confusion. "Wait," he began, brows furrowed. "Charles isn't your boyfriend?"

She was laughing at him, but it was such a pretty laugh that he didn't much mind. He could listen to it all day, even if it was at his expense. "Boyfriend? No way," she said, tongue poking between her teeth as she laughed. "He's more like an overly enthusiastic guard dog."

"So, if he saw us now, he'd chop off my balls?" Max challenged.

The smirk that crossed her features was so fucking pretty. But Max wasn't afforded much time to appreciate it. She stepped towards him, one hand settling on the back of his neck as the other ghosted over the button of his trousers, cupping his cock through the fabric. "Holy shit, he couldn't breathe.

"Angel," he said with warning, and she didn't bother to correct him.

"Charles would have your balls in a vice," she said and gave a light squeeze. "But I like to think I'm worth it."

Their fathers were in a business meeting in the next room, and they were meant to be keeping things professional. But those eight words were all it took before Max had her pressed against the wall, lips against her own. She couldn't stop herself from drawing in a breath, mouth opening enough for Max to slip his tongue inside.

Ever since they'd left that room, Max hadn't been the one in control. It had been her, her pretty smiles, pouts and touchers that had him practically bending to her every whim.

He pulled away, only to lean back in and drag her bottom lip between his teeth. "Angel," he said breathlessly, hands holding her lips. "We can't."

"I don't care," she replied, the words tumbling from her pretty lips. Threading her manicured nails through his hair, she pulled him in for another searing kiss. And, just like that, Max had handed all control over to her.

He would have taken her to a bedroom, would have loved to see her body between white sheets. But she was calling the shots, and Max soon realised that Angel wasn't as fitting a name as once thought.

She opened the first door she came to and pushed Max into the room. Except, it wasn't a room, was it? It was a stage closet, full of cleaning supplies.

Max shook his head as she looked around the small, dark space. "Let me take you to a bedroom, Angel," he said quietly.

Her only answer was to push the straps of her pretty, lilac dress down. Max's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as she looked at her. He liked to think he had more self control, but he couldn't pull his eyes away from her breasts, or at least what he could see.

He was like a man possessed as he gently pushed her back against the wall and attached his lips to her own. It was rough, and forceful, her moans only spurring him on.

Max grabbed her leg and lifted it, wrapping it around him. She tugged at his hair and Max pressed his hips against her own, keeping her held against the wall.

"Fuck, Angel," he said through a moan.

Her hands were on his trousers again, popping the button, pulling down his zipper and reaching inside. But her touch was only brief. She pulled away to pull up her own skirts and move Max's hands to where she wanted him.

As soon as she had his hands under her skirts, Max squeezed the flesh of her ass. She let out a gasp, devilish smile playing on her lips as she reached back into his trousers. "That's better," she mumbled and pressed her lips against his neck.

His hand moved from her ass, ghosted over her hips, feeling the waistband of her panties. Light and lacy. She jutted her hip out, pushing it further into his hand. Max slipped his finger beneath the waistband and pulled back, letting it snap against her skin.

A breathy moan left her lips as she pulled away from his neck, leaving purple bruises behind. Max was still under her gaze as she took a moment to look at him, to admire her handiwork.

And then it was Max's turn. He leaned in and trailed his lips across her neck, down to her breasts. His fingers moved from her hip, coming to rest on her back. There was just a moment where he just kissed her skin. Not leaving any marks, hands still on her back as he kissed her skin. The little whines leaving her lips made it all worth it.

Max pulled down the zipper of her dress. The way he was holding her, though, it kept the dress against her body, maybe just slipping down a little bit.

He hadn't meant to check his watch. But they'd spent so much time doing this foreplay, they couldn't have had long "Angel-"

But she stepped away from him, let her dress fall to the floor and pulled down her panties. She held them up, delicate smile on her lips. "Are you gonna fuck me?" Shs whispered and tucked the panties into his pocket.

What more could Max say as he freed himself from his pants. She wordlessly dropped to her knees (she was far too pretty to be on her knees), and took his cock into her mouth.

Pretty, painted lilac fingers were wrapped around his cock and she swirled her tongue around his tip. Max couldn't stop his eyes from shutting as she moved, bobbing her head. "Holy fuck," Max gasped as he rested his hand on her head. He didn't push her, didn't speed her up, just held his hand there.

If she kept going like this, Max was going to cum. "Angel, please," Max whispered and she looked up at him through watery eyes. What a fucking sight.

She released him with a pop! and stood up. Wrapping her arms around his neck she pulled him back until he had her pressed against the wall. "Fuck me, Maxie," she whispered. "Make me scream."

He pulled her leg around him and guided himself inside. She had her head against his shoulder, sinking her teeth in as Max pushed himself through her folds. "That's it," he said as he held her. "You're doing so good."

She lifted her hand slightly, trembling as Max stilled inside of her. "Good girl," he whispered and kissed her cheeks.

Slowly, Max began moving his hips. He didn't pull back very far, keeping her held tight to him as he pushed back in. The noises she released from her throat were the sweetest. If he could have, Max would have listened to them on a loop for the rest of his life.

It wasn't like Max's usual sex. Usually it was rough, bruising touches as he fucked whoever he had taken back to his bed that night.

But this, it was sweet and slow. Max savoured every moment, the feeling of her cunt clenching around him, the way she gripped onto his shoulders. "Max," she cried, eyes shut. "I-"

"I've got you, Angel," he whispered. "Let go."

And she did. With one final high pitched cry, she let herself cum. Max held her, kept himself moving, helping her to ride out her high.

He could have cum inside of her, could have easily let himself fall over the edge as her cunt held him. But not today.

He pulled out and she let out a pitiful whine as he came on her stomach. Max helped her to the floor as she took her finger and wiped the cum from her stomach, bringing it to her lips.

Holy fuck, she was going to be the death of him.

a/n: I'm sorry for everyone that didn't get tagged in the last one!! Pls note chapter three exists and is on the series masterlist if you missed it

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[writingroom21]

Sweet Escape

Pairing: Rafe x single mom reader

Summary: Moving to Kildare with your best friend and daughter was the perfect move. The little island is perfect, the people are nice, and you are finally at peace. Then Rafe comes in with his perfect smile and charm, sweeping you off your feet. The only issue is if you are ready to let someone else in.

Warnings: None

Wc: 5.1K

series masterlist

Chapter 1: You again

The breeze blows your hair, obscuring your vision from the boxes in the back of the moving van. The weather was nice here in the outer banks, different to what it felt like in New york. Moving here right when Spring is in bloom was the best decision. Back home it’s still cold, barely even warming up. But here it’s so beautiful. The waves from the water behind the house hit the dock, the lapping sound making its way to the front.

“Grandma is having a blast with Vi right now. I know she’s glad to have a baby in the house again.” Jo your best friend says as she walks into the van to grab another box. It was her idea to move her. Her grandma was getting older and she wanted to come take care of her. When she figured it all out she just handed you tickets, telling you that you weren’t going to stay there longer.

Without consulting you she had talked with her grandma to let you and your daughter Violet to move in with them. She wanted to get you as far away from New York as she could. Jo is the type of best friend that feels responsibility for her friends. It was that way when you were children and it got worse when you had your own child.

The moment you found out you were pregnant she was there to cry along with you. She was there in the delivery room when your precious little girl was born. Every step of your life has been with her, never allowing you to go through it alone. You couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life.

“That’s good. I’m sure Vi is going to love being around her. Two peas in a pod probably.” You try to not get into your head as you pick up a box of Vi’s things. When you told your parents you were pregnant they weren’t happy. To be fair you were eighteen, fresh out of highschool. They tried to be supportive but couldn’t look past it when their friends from church started to talk.

They had kicked you out right before you gave birth, leaving you to be stranded. The father was a nightmare to say the least and that wasn’t an option for you. He was a mistake that you wish you could take back. A reminder of being what your family wanted to only be their disappointment. He seemed perfect to them but deep down he was a monster, no one you want around your baby to begin with.

The only option you had was Jo. Her family wasn’t like yours, they took you in with open arms. Embracing Violet as one of their own. Even though you lost your family that night they forced you out, you found another that loved you more. For two years it was perfect, Vi was growing up nicely, hitting all her milestones. You had a good job and had saved up enough money to move out on your own. Which was perfect timing since Jo was going to move here.

Then a week after she informed you of her decision you got a call from a lawyer. “Hello?” You answered. “Hi, I'm looking for.”  He says your name for clarification. “Yes, that's me.” You were confused on what this could be about. Worried that it was your ex. “I’m sorry to inform you that your parents passed away the other night in a car accident. The wake will be this week and the Will reading is after.” The shock of their death didn’t settle in fully until the reading.  

They had left you everything, they had abandoned you yet they left you everything. The next few months of winter were filled with you selling their house and settling the bank information. Getting the move ready so you and Vi would be comfortable once in your new home. Leading to now, standing in front of the house that is yours.

Grandma June had a pretty house in a nice neighborhood. The backyard was big and the water was right behind. A complete contrast to what you had growing up. You grew up in a townhouse, Jo right next door. It may have been more room then a regular apartment but you still had little room. There was no backyard to play in, the only time you had outside was going to the park. 

Your life, even if it may not have been bad, wasn't perfect either. Your parents preached religion and the bible until it was shoved down your throat. Telling you what you can’t and can’t do by the eyes of God. Introducing you to their friends' sons to meet the proper boy, look at where that got you. This move was a chance to continue to better yourself and give Vi the chance of being herself. 

You set the box down in the room that is now Violets. June had moved herself to the guest house outback stating that she doesn’t need all of this space. She had given the deed to the two of you, gifting the home as a thank you for not sending her off to a home. That meant you all had your own rooms. Vi still tends to sleep with you so her room is more decoration. 

“Who would have thought we would be here?” Jo’s voice says from the doorway. You turn to look at her. “Me a twenty-one year old with a two year old or that we moved out of New York.” She pounders for a moment, finger tapping her chin. “Hmm I was going to say us moving here but the toddler thing works too.” She laughs walking into the room more.

“We should paint the walls this week. Grams said there’s a paint store we can get it at. Should be near the shop.” You smile at her as you both go to get more boxes. Before moving here you wanted a stable job where you would be able to be with Violet more often. In New York you were a receptionist so you would have to leave her with Jo’s parents. So it was important for you to have the freedom to be with her since you can’t rely on June.

When you were looking around for jobs online you had seen that a flower shop was going for sale. Growing up you had always loved flowers. Books of plants, flowers, and gardening stuffed your bookshelves. With the money that was left to you from your parents you decided to buy it. Was it a long shot? Maybe but it couldn’t hurt to try. This way you will be able to have Vi with you at the shop without paying for a sitter.

With the van unpacked it was close to dinner time. Too tired from the day you and Jo decide to order pizza. But you make Vi her own meal on the side to have. You’re stirring the noodles that are in the pot when tiny footsteps can be heard. “Momma.” A little voice yells. You drop the spoon, turning to squat down. “Vi. How’s my favorite flower doing?” She giggles as you blow kisses on her neck and squeeze her tight. “She’s been such a little angel. Are you sure you don’t want to just leave her with me during the day.” June asks as she walks into the kitchen.

“Oh no I couldn’t ask that of you. Anyway, I want to spend as much time with her as I can. She won’t stay this small forever.” You finish up Vi’s food just in time for the pizza to get there at the same time. You all sit down and eat. You cut up tiny pieces of your pizza to let Vi try to see how she will like it. The table laughs when she smacks her lips and signs for more. 

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful. Your routine consisted of giving Vi a bath and putting her to bed. Then finishing up some things before tucking in for the night as well. Before you know it the alarm is going off and it is bright outside. It’s seven o’clock so you have roughly thirty minutes before Vi gets up. 

Quickly you head to the bathroom for a shower rushing to head downstairs and start breakfast. When breakfast was finished it was time for her to wake up and you go to her room. Which she actually slept in last night. She’s rubbing her eyes, burrowing her head back into her pillow. “Goodmorning baby girl.” You softly say as you rub her back to gently wake her up more. “Hi momma.” Her voice is like music to your ears, always making you smile.

Slowly but surely she gets up, both of you entering the kitchen to eat. “Morning.” Jo yawns over her coffee mug. “Morning.” Strapping Vi to her chair, you place her plate in front of her before grabbing yours. Jo sits down across from you as she sips from her mug. “Any plans for today?” You finish chewing the piece of toast and look up at the girl in front of you. “Going to the shop. Want to work some stuff out before it opens again.”

“Bug and I can chill her with grams while you do that. I have the day off.” A sigh of relief is released. “Thank you. I need to make sure the ship of flowers is accurate. I need to restart the garden in the back.” Jo let’s out a “damn” while shaking her her. “Good luck with that. That sounds like a lot of counting. Counting yucky, right Vi.” The end is talking to the toddler. Her giggle lighting up the room. 

After finishing Vi’s morning routine you change into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. The weather was nice but there was still a chill in the air. You walk down the stairs to see Violet on the floor of the living room playing with some toys. “Hi sweetie. Heading out?” June is sitting on the couch smiling at you. “Yup I’m going to the shop today. Do you need anything while I’m out?” She shakes her head and laughs when Vi hands her a toy. “I’m okay. Now go ahead before we keep you here.”

June has been in love with Violet since she was born. She had visited Jo’s family right after you got back from the hospital. From that moment on she was always asking about her and buying her things. She said it was the first baby since Jo so it’s like she has a great grandbaby. Everyone was so kind about you having a baby so young and you couldn’t be more grateful. Which is something you wish you could say about this flower delivery. 

The flowers were delivered yesterday right before you all started to unpack. You had rushed to let them in and place everything inside that you didn’t pay attention to when they did. The previous owners of the shop were older and couldn’t keep up with it anymore. The garden they had in the back that grew some of their flowers was dead and the others wilted a long time ago. So ordering flowers to fill the story was the only option you had.

Which seemed really great at the time but now it doesn’t. You had come in and set your bag down on the counter. Looking around you see the endless sea of flowers staring at you. You go to the back to the office and get the clipboard you had placed there yesterday. Painfully slow you separate the flowers by their species. Having to count every single one was starting to prove to be a difficult task.

One that got even worse when you found out you were short on some flowers. This wouldn’t have been a problem if it wasn’t for the fact that they were popular flowers. Roses, tulips, baby’s breath, carnations, all flowers that people love. You were opening up the store in two days and you need to make sure you have a good supply. June had said that a lot of the rich folk like to throw parties and will buy flowers. You need to be prepared just in case.

You were in the middle of counting the Anemone when the store's front door started to rattle. Stepping into view of the door there’s a tall man standing outside with his back to you. He’s on the phone and using his hands to talk wildly. The man turns around again to try the door and sees you standing there. He snaps his fingers at you and points to the door handle that’s locked.

You walk over and unlock it, opening it slightly to ask him what he needs. “Can I help you?” The guy is tall, handsome, his hair is growing out from a previous buzzcut. He has on a shirt that is too tight on him and a pair of khakis, not usually what you find attractive but he pulls it off. “Yeah. For starts you can let me in and second you’ll put my order in.” He holds up a pointer finger at you.

“I know. I’m here right now, if the new girl would let me in it could go faster.” He says into the phone. “Listen, I gotta go. I’ll let you know when they will be delivered.” You give him a complex look. “Sorry but we aren’t open right now. You have to come back in two days.” You try to close the door but his foot catches it. “Look, I really need an order for tomorrow. The florist we were using canceled and I need them. There’s a banquet and the stupid tables need flowers.”

 You look back at the store and at him again. It wouldn’t hurt to do this order but you haven’t finished inventory yet. He could be asking for flowers that you can’t even give him. “I’m sorry but I’m not even open yet.” He interrupts you. “Well just open the store up and ring me out. I get you are new here but come on.” His tone is rude, annoyed that this is taking longer than he wants. “No, I can't just open up the store. I’m new here because I just bought it and I don’t even know how many flowers I have yet. So no I can’t help you, I’m sorry.”

He scoffs at you. “Do you normally buy things you don’t know if you can handle or is this a spur of the moment thing? I need those flowers.” This guy really has some audacity. “Do you normally talk down on workers or are you just a asshole?” Your head tilts to the side, looking up at him. The sun is burning your retina is making it hard to see anything but the lower part of his face. Even through the pain you can see the smile that crept on his face.

“Good luck with opening this up. I can clearly see the customer service is subpar.” With that he’s walking off down the street, pulling out his phone to probably call someone else. “Hey asshole, the flower delivery was short with some. So that’s the main reason I can’t help you. Don’t just assume shit.” Without looking back he calls out to you. “Sounds like an issue you need to fix. Try calling them up next time.”

Fuck. Of course you could just have called them this whole time. Quickly, you get back inside to finish the inventory to see what else is missing. After another hour you are done, exhausted from all the back and forth. Sitting down in the back office you call the distributor that you had used, explaining to them which flowers were short and how many you would need. Thankfully the lady on the other end didn’t give you any trouble, telling you she would have them delivered tomorrow. 

By the time everything was done it was around 5:30, which meant you should head home for dinner. The drive back to the house was peaceful. In New York you really didn’t need a car, you had spent most of your time in the city so you took the subway. Every now and then you would have to drive to family in the suburbs, this reminds you of that drive. Seeing the trees and greenery is like a breath of fresh air. 

It was a reminder that your old life was left back States away, no monsters here to haunt you. It’s refreshing knowing you got a new start and that Vi will get to grow up in a good place. When you get home it’s ten minutes until dinner should be served, at least for Vi. She’s on a strict schedule and will get fussy if she doesn’t eat or sleep at the same time.

You were greeted with shouts coming from the living room, footsteps playing the floorboards like a piano. “Momma!” Vi screams when she sees you in the hallway. “Hi pretty girl. How is my favorite doing? Had a good day?” She nods, tiny hands wiping her hair off her face. “Ya. Jo play.” She points to your friend who’s standing behind her. “She’s been making me run around for hours. How do you do this all the time?” 

You pick Vi up, walking towards the kitchen as you give her a bunch of kisses. “Lot’s of coffee and I have amazing people who help me.” Jo throws an arm around your shoulder walking with you. The table was already set, plates filled with food. “Yeah we are pretty amazing. So amazing that grams are giving us the night off.” You place Vi in her seat and look at Jo. “What do you mean?” 

She puts Vi’s food down in front of her before sitting to eat her own meal. “She means that you two are young and need to have fun. So I’ll stay here while this angel sleeps. Have fun for once.” June says as she makes her way back from what you assume is the bathroom. “Before you even try to say anything I told her she didn’t have to. She won’t take no for an answer so tough luck.” You don’t even argue, Jo’s parents always say she got her stubbornness from June so that is not a hill you want to die on.

Over dinner you tell them about your day. Explaining how you found out there were flowers missing and that you had to call for new ones. Finishing off your story telling with the asshole who thought he was special so that made him entitled to your flowers. “Sounds like a dick.” Jo said without thinking about the two year old sitting next to her. “Sorry.” June thought it was hilarious. Saying “it’s about time someone told those snobs the world doesn’t revolve around them.”

After dinner you spent time with Violet. Playing some more with her toys, then a bath to get the dirt off of her, and then reading bedtime stories to her. After each one she would let out a “nader'' informing you she wanted another story. The third one is always when she falls asleep, as soon as the first words are out so is she. Slowly and quietly you slip out of her bed and room.

“Ready?” Jo’s voice scared you, jumping from the fear shooting through your body. “For fucks sake Jo. Let me just change into a different shirt, I have Vi drool.” The other girls face twists in disgust as you pull that part of your shirt to show her. Not the worst thing you’ve had on you since becoming a mother but she still finds it gross. After changing the two of you head over to a bar.

The place actually looks really nice. There are lights strung up on the outside seating and the inside has amazing decorations. “What do you want? I’ll go get us the first round while you find us a table.” The first round? Damn Jo meant it when she said we will be living up the night. You haven’t really been out since your 21st, having a daughter doesn’t give you a lot of time to go out.

Plus you never really drank in highschool so this is a whole new ballpark for you. “Um I don’t know. Just get me something you will think I’ll like.” With that she was off to the bar as you found a table to sit at. The drink she came back with was in a tall glass and is yellow. You take it from her hands inspecting it. “What is it?” She rolls her eyes at you and takes a sip from her drink. “It’s a passion fruit mojito.”

You like passion fruit so this should be good. Oh yeah, that drink is delicious. You take a good few sips of it. “That’s fucking delicious.” Jo laughs at you. “Told you.” The two of you sit there for a while. Taking your time to finish your drinks. When they were done it was your turn to go up and get drinks. Since Jo is driving back she just wanted water but she insisted that you had to keep drinking.

The bar is a little more packed now, so you’re stuck waiting for the bartender to come around. Tapping your fingers lightly on the counter surface you space out, not realizing that the seat next to you was moving. “He won’t notice you for another five minutes. Blaire just sat down so he’ll be chatting her up for a bit.” The voice next to you sounds familiar, turning your head you can see why. “You again.” The guy from earlier smirks at you. “Now why does that sound like a bad thing?”

You look down at the other end of the bar to see the bartender flirting with a girl. Crap. “Maybe because you were rude and entitled. But hey what do I know?” Your brain is telling you to leave, just tell Jo you’ll go back up in a little. Then there’s a little voice in your head telling you to stay. For some reason there’s a part of you that is curious about the stranger.

“Pfft me entitled or rude? You’re the one who said that you wouldn’t let me order flowers.” Your eyes narrow at him, his arms shoot up in defense. “I know your shipment was fucked up.” He gives you a curious look. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“That’s because I just moved here. Don’t really know anyone besides my friend and her grandma.” You point back to Jo, his eyes following to see your friend with a wide eyed expression. “I don’t think I know her. Think I’ve seen her before but years ago.” He looks back at you, examining your facial features. You’re really pretty, he was too wrapped up in frustration earlier to notice. He’s sure noticing it now though. 

His chair seems to get closer to you, scraping against the sticky floors. “Where did you move from?” You had expected him to stop talking to you yet here he is asking you questions. “New York. I lived there my whole life.” He leans his arms on the counter, looking at you from the side. “Nice, I’ve been there a few times. Do have to say the pizza wasn’t actually good.” You gasp at his outrageous statement. “What? You’ve got to be joking, it's the best. You just didn’t go to the right places, probably some fancy restaurant that sells those tiny portions.”

He’s cracking a smile from your mini rant. You’re right, it was one of those restaurants. The ones where it cost $400 to just get a table and everything is super expensive even though it's a meal for ants. He’s never seen anything wrong with those places, grew up his whole life eating at them. In this moment he wishes that wasn’t the case, that he knew how to be a normal person and not someone with money. He would have never been caught at a dingy restaurant eating food yet here he is longing to experience that. An experience he didn’t know he was missing until your reaction.

“Oh my god it was one of those places. You can’t say you’ve been to New York if you haven’t really tried their food.” He turns on the stool so his legs are facing you. “Wouldn’t that technically be their food as well? They have high class restaurants there.” He likes the way your eyes roll at him, wanting them to do it in a different way. “That’s like going to Italy and eating at fast food places we have in America. Yeah it’s their version but it’s not actually Italian food.” “I would never. Italy is too perfect to not eat their food.”

You look at him, a smile plastered on your face. “Please don’t tell me you’ve been to Italy and I’m making a fool of myself.” He can’t help but to chuckle at how cute you are when you are nervous. “Alright I won’t say anything.” He shrugs. You let out a groan, of course he has. He looks like he has money so what else did you expect. “What can I get you?” 

The bartender cuts the moment the two of you were having. “Can I get a whiskey and whatever she’s having.” You look back at Jo and she sends you a thumbs up. “I’ll just have a passion fruit mojito.” The bartender leaves you two as he goes to make the drinks. “Wouldn’t have taken you as a mojito girl?” You look at him, blush forming on your cheeks. “Yeah? What kind of girl would you take me as?” He doesn’t know if you are flirting but he sure the hell hopes so. “Maybe a margarita. I feel like you’re a tequila girl.”

You giggle at the implication. “The last time I had tequila it got me in trouble.” It did, that’s how you ended up with a baby and being kicked out. “I like trouble.” Fuck. You had told yourself when moving here to just stick to yourself and everything will be fine. THen this guy walks in and you want to throw it all out the window. It’s not fair, he’s too hot to even say no to.

“You know I got to say I never met a florist as pretty as you” He tells you, leaning in closer but keeping a good distance. “Are you flirting with me so I can change my mind about those flowers?” He laughs, turning so he is now facing you, resting his weight on the counter top. “No, just flirting. Would it help me get them though?” Now it’s your turn to laugh. “You are not getting flowers. I would still have to prepare them and I wouldn’t get it done on time.Plus who knows if the reshipment will get here on time” You take a sip of your drink. 

“What if you had help?” Your eyes look into his. They're pretty. A shade of blue that in this light somewhat seems gray. They remind you of Vi, she had pretty blue eyes too, that she got from your mom. “You would hire help for me?” He scoots closer, his hand playing with the ends of your hair. “I could help you.” His fingers brush against your arms. The words seem to have an undertone of something. Simply suggesting something else. “How?”

The smirk that forms on his face makes you want to kiss him. His hand clears your face from stray strands of hair, eyes locking to yours. “However you want me.” This isn’t really feeling like you’re talking about flowers anymore. You aren’t sure if you should shut it down or keep going. The drinks were placed in front of you, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he hands the bartender his card. To relax yourself you take a sip of your drink, which only makes it worse. Now your relaxed mind can only think about dragging him off somewhere to see how much he could really help.

You’re interrupted before you can make a mistake. “Yo country club we gotta go.” A man walks up to the two of you. He nods at the guy. “Give me a sec.” The man looks at the both of you and shakes his head. “Aight five minutes.”

“Have somewhere to be?” He downs the rest of his whiskey. “Wish I didn’t.” Your blush intensifies. Shifting in your chiat you rest a hand on his lap. “Too bad. I was just starting to like you.” He stands up, catching your hand as it falls. “Guess I’ll have to refresh your memory tomorrow.” Your hand tightens around his. “Wait tomorrow?” 

“Gotta help you with those flowers right?” He actually meant it. “Fine.” He smiles and drops your hand, backing away from you. “I’m Rafe by the way.” You tell him your name, grab your drink and get up as well. “See you tomorrow beautiful.”

You smile all the way to the table, meeting Jo whose mouth was wide open. “Dude you were just flirting with Rafe Cameron.” You shrug your shoulders at you and sipping your drink “So what?” Her face flashes with different emotions. “So what? Dude he’s literally the richest person on this island. After his dad passed away he inherited the family business, he’s dumb rich.”

Jo won’t shut up about how hot the richest guy in Kildare was flirting with you. She gave you some of the run down on him from her “sources” on the island. Those sources being friends she made when she would visit. He apparently has a mean streak, causing fights with people. How he would sleep around with every girl and on top of that did drugs. It shouldn’t have shocked you but it was surprising to hear.

You thought over everything as you laid in bed. Rafe seemed funny and sweet when he talked to you in the bar. Those two versions of him do not seem to align together. Yet again you had only met him today and you don’t have the greatest track record with guys. It doesn’t matter anyway. You weren’t looking for anything anyway, all you needed to focus on was yourself and your daughter.

Taglist: @haruvalentine4321 @namelesslosers Let me know if you want to be added

[joszns]

HIII JO!!

do u think you can write smth about like reader surprising ellie with a tattoo of ellies name on her thigh and then ellie goes absolutely ham wit it😋

HIII thank u sm for this request anon!!! it was fun to write :) dreaming about ellie fucking me silly all cuz of some ink in my skin…it does things fr.

warnings: cunnilingus (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), accidental sex tape kinda, reader takes a pic during sex

“ellie! ellie! babe, look!” you say excitedly, rushing inside your girlfriends room.

she smiles when she sees you, taking off her headphones and opening her arms for a hug.

“what is it baby?” ellie coos, welcoming you into her lap.

you grin mischievously and lift your skirt up, revealing a tattoo on your inner thigh. small and delicate, it reads: ‘ellie ❤︎’.

“do you like it? i got it done earlier, i’ve been dying to show you!”

ellie stares at the tattoo, feeling heat pool between her legs. her strong hands grip your thighs, causing you to jump a bit at the sudden pressure.

“it’s cute…” she says, staring at it.

“you hate it.” you pout, looking away.

“i love it. i love it so much.”

“prove it.” you say.

ellie brings your face to hers and kisses you deeply, pulling you into her by your jaw.

you moan into the kiss, arching forward as your tongues sloppily slide against eachother. her hands wander, dropping from your neck, then your chest, and finally your thighs. she caressed the area near the tattoo, gently rubbing her thumb over the ink. whimpering, you pull her impossibly closer and tug on her hair lightly.

ellie picks you up and walks to her bed, putting you down and immediately kissing down your body. she stops at your thighs, pulling up your skirt and kissing the skin around your tattoo while looking up at you.

“telling everyone you’re mine, hm? my name, on display..” ellie said, leaving a hickey on your thigh.

“yeah, love showin’ you off baby..” you sighed, spreading your legs open more as ellie’s mouth slowly inched upwards.

she breathed out over your cunt, making you shiver. you feel yourself throb expectantly, embarrassed at the fact ellie could see just how wet she made you.

“so pretty, my love..” ellie says, placing a soft kiss on your soaking clit. she looks up at you as she does this, watching your expression falter slightly.

she breathes you in one last time before pressing her tongue on you, slowly pulling the wet muscle through your sloppy folds.

“elie…” you whine, pushing your hips into her face. “stop teasing.”

she complied with your request, happily eating you like you were her last meal on death row.

you moaned, fingers tangling in her hair, hips bucking up into ellie’s smothered face. her expert lips clung to your clit, sucking softly as her tongue flicked the cherry bud. her right hand lingered by the tattoo, gripping and kneading the fat below it.

“so good baby, who’s pussy’s this?” ellie asked, her other hand moving up to slide one of her long fingers inside of you.

“yours baby fuck—s’yours, my pussy’s yours—” you cried, chest rapidly rising and falling with each shallow breath you took, orgasm nearing quickly.

“take a picture baby..so you always know who you belong to.” ellie commanded, watching herself slide another finger into your sloppy cunt.

you happily obliged, taking your phone as ellie continued to eat you out. you moaned, back arching.

struggling to keep your arms straight, you positioned the phone at a good angle and snapped a photo, accidentally starting a video as you fumbled with the device.

“ellie..fuck…don’t stop—god don’t stop!” you whimpered, the phone falling onto the mattress as you moaned your girlfriends name over and over.

her fingers were relentlessly perfect, arching and thrusting in just the right way ellie knew hit all the spots you loved the most.

“m’gunna cum! please-don’t—stooop!” you cried, extending your last word as you climaxed hard on ellie’s face and fingers.

ellie rode you through it, slowing her pace on licking and thrusting into you. aftershocks rolled through your body, causing you to twitch every now and then as she departed from your puffy clit with a ‘pop’ and retracted her fingers.

“you alright, baby?” she asked, getting up to grab a towel for her hands.

you stopped her, looking into her beautiful green eyes as you licked her hand clean. ellie swallowed hard, the feeling of your wet tongue dragging on her fingers creating new sensations.

“i’m so fucking glad i don’t gotta share you.”

[theaceace]

Another old fic idea that stalled somewhere between my brain and my docs, in which Hob puts centuries of life experience to use by writing an anonymous advice column (it's probably Jo's fault somehow) and recently he's been getting some... Odd submissions

My brother has recently left a very stifling living situation and is drowning himself in work. I know his pride won't let him come to me for help, but I want to let him know I'm still there for him, what do you suggest? - Endless Family Drama

It can be difficult to watch the people we love most refuse to accept our help, especially when we can see that they're hurting. The best advice I can offer you is don't push him too hard – the last thing you want to do is scare him away! Spend time with him doing something you both enjoy or rediscovering common ground, and let him come to you when he's ready. Encourage him to find the person he was before all of this, and start learning how that fits with who he is now; reconnect with old friends or pick up a hobby he hasn't tried for a while. Clearly you love your brother a great deal, and whether he's ready to admit it or not, he's lucky to have you in his corner.

Chin up, and best of luck to you both!

And what do you know, that afternoon Death happens to go find her brother feeding the pigeons.

Matthew (with Rose's help, typing is really hard when you're a bird, turns out) after a conversation with Lucienne and later a complain-and-smoke-sesh with Constantine, writes in (not knowing he's writing to the boss's friend) like

I've just started a new job, and my boss is literally a nightmare when he's in a bad mood, he drags me to hell and back, spends all his time moping and fighting with my other boss, and won't listen to any of my advice, how do I let him know I think he's being unreasonable - struggling to keep my beak shut

Eventually Dream - who is both spending much more time in the waking world and also much more inclined to listen to Matthew's advice recently, for some reason - decides to write in to ask the opinion of a human on how to. Well. How one might go about courting one of their oldest friends having just reconnected after a huge fight and period of separation.

So naturally, Hob's reply is somewhat wistful and based entirely on the way he would love to court/be courted by his old stranger (Dream! Morpheus! He's been given so many names and titles to use now, he's practically spoilt!)

Neither of them figure out what's going on for an embarrassingly long time

(Desire writes to ask how you get your brother to stop ignoring you after you've tricked him into prison ('captivity' is the word used, but Hob can read between the lines) and almost made him kill one of their relatives. Hob starts to question if this side career is a good idea)

Also, the tagline for his column would absolutely be something like I keep making the same mistakes so you don't have to! Somehow this does not clue Dream in in the slightest

[bccky]

Souls Intertwined By Fate

Part 2

Pairing:  Dean Winchester X Reader

Summary: As soulmates, you can feel the exact intensity of pain as your other half when they get hurt. So what happens when your soulmate literally goes to hell?

Words: 1061

Warnings: descriptions of death, mention of suicide, angst, full discretion is adviced

A/N: revamped fic of my own. It's been almost an year since I posted the first part, I'm extremely sorry for the long pause hehe // Dividers by @firefly-graphics // hope you like this one Xx

⇤ PART 1

Supernatural Masterlist • Main Masterlist

Souls Intertwined By Fate Masterlist

GIF by saucynewf

A shiver runs down your spine as you stand behind the Roadhouse, and you can't tell if it's because of the cold biting air or the green eyes that are trying to cloud your mind. 

There aren't many things that can scare you now, but now that you have found your soulmate, even thinking about him gives you shivers - and not the good kind.

"Thank you," You whisper to Jo as she sneaks a few bottles of the strongest rum through the backdoor. Your only objective now is to avoid Ellen and whoever that guy was. 

You don't want to know his name... It will make this all too real. 

"You owe me a big one." Jo says and you nod, wanting to cut your time here as short as possible.

Her questioning glances every few seconds are enough for you to know that she's just waiting for an opening to ask why you are suddenly stocking up on your favorite bottles of alcohol, and you're not ready to tell her why.

Realizing you forgot to bring your car to the back, you sigh, bidding farewell to Jo with a hug. 

You almost start running once she closes the door towards your car that you parked in the front, stashing your bag in the car, as you start the ignition. 

You're ready to step on the accelerator and be away from your soulmate, the person who's going to be your doom. You can't help but peek at the bar as you pass by and you're sure you see the dirty blond hair that is going to haunt your dreams from now on. 

The bottles Jo smuggled are just so that you can lay off from visiting the Road House as much as you can. 

It's no secret that whoever drops by the bar is sure to become a regular thanks to Ellen's hospitality, connections and knowledge of the supernatural, that is, unless anyone gives her a reason to clear off. 

The fear makes you drive as far as possible from the only people who you now call your family in search of hunts, but that doesn't mean you can run from what you have named as 'the Soulmates Curse'. 

You end up at a diner in a small town with a supposed haunted cabin in the nearby woods, taking a breath of relief as you see an empty seat by the window.

You put down all the resources you have on the table for the current case you're working on, using it as a distraction. 

But as you’re settling, a high pitched giggle catches your attention. There’s a family in the park near the diner which you can see clearly from your seat.

You get a weird feeling in your heart, a sense of longing for what you once had. The parents laze around on a picnic blanket, happily watching the children who are running around and playing with each other.

You wonder if you’ll ever get to live and love like that again.

“Hey,” a deep voice pulls you out of your chain of thoughts, and you look up to see a man with dark, gelled-back hair, a stubble gracing his genial smile, "You okay?" 

Not gonna lie, you feel like a high school girl starting to fall for the cute guy in class, your insides warm as your body feels flush.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You say to yourself, although you know that it isn't true, it's the only way to convince your mind that you're doing the right thing by saving yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.  

“I’m Chris, your server for the evening. What can I get you?”

Chris’ deep brown eyes make you want to forget everything, and for some reason, it makes you feel like you’re cheating on your non-existent relationship.

 “Just a cheeseburger and fries, Chris. Thanks.”

“I’ll be right back.” He winks at you with another one of his charming smiles, and you almost melt.

Your mind is in overdrive now.

The happy family directly in your sights are confusing your one-track mind, making you want that kind of contentment in your life as well.

As Chris brings your order to your table, you can’t help but ask, “The town is quite charming, huh?”

He laughs, “Yep, just a small, peaceful town. Except for Old Neil’s Cabin, it’s a nice place to live. And if you don’t believe in ghost stories, we don’t have many problems here.”

And with that, your yearning mind starts planning out an ordinary life in this town, hoping that your soulmate will have a peaceful death and since you won’t be attached to him, you won't feel much when the inevitable happens.

If you get rid of the ghost, then you can see yourself getting old here, preferably with a handsome man like Chris, and have a little family.

Back at the Harvelle’s Roadhouse, Dean Winchester takes a sip of his beer and sighs, tapping on the wooden bar, deep in thought.

Sam is talking about something or the other with Jo, not paying mind to Dean, who honestly doesn’t care. He is too occupied with the girl from last night who has been making his heart skip a beat every few minutes as little things around him keep reminding him of you.

Dean smiles to himself as a warmth spreads in his heart, hopeful that you are having a good time, whoever, and wherever you are.

“What’s up with him?” Jo asks Sam softly, not wanting to rob him out of whatever was cheering him on.

“No one ever knows with him.” Sam shrugs, throwing an amusing smile at his brother, not that he noticed. “He has been a little hush since yesterday.”

“Jo,” Dean speaks out of the blue, bursting the bubble he had built around him.

“Yeah?” She replies, in anticipation of knowing what his next words will be, curious about what he had been contemplating all this while.

“Do you know a girl around our age in the hunting business?”

“To be quite frank, there are a lot. I can’t just tell who you’re talking about just from that.”

Dean takes the last drink out of his glass before turning towards Jo, giving her a serious look.  “She was here yesterday.”

“Oh, you mean Y/N?” 

And with that, Dean’s life takes a different turn again.

Part 3

I’d love to hear what you think of it! Please like, reblog and comment to let me know Xx

I wanna get back into writing again, can you send in any requests or something? Thanks in advance :)

Wanna read more of my works? Check out the masterlist linked at the top!

I'm not tagging anyone this time because it has been so long since I last posted this series, or anything to be honest, so please let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next parts (let me know in the reblogs)!

[bteezxyewriter12]

Massage

Pairing- Jin x Named Reader

Word count- 4.1k

Includes- Cock massage, sex, missionary, sex from behind, cock riding, multiple orgasms, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @marvelfamily3000 @amyz78 @blueie-things

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Jin Masterlist

Jin POV

“You ok Jinnie?”, Joanne asks me, pausing the movie we’re watching

I’m stretching because my back and shoulders are killing me

Too much practicing

“Yeah Jo. I’m ok. My back just hurts”

“That sucks", she comments then moves behind me on my bed

"What are you doing?”, I ask a bit alarmed

“Fucking relax Jin. I’m just gonna give you a massage.”, she says and I know by her tone she’s rolling her eyes

“You don’t have to”, I answer although I really want her too

She's my best friend since I was little

We grew up together and have been inseparable since then

She’s a veterinarian for the zoo here in Seoul

How she goes near those wild animals that can eat her, I’ll never know but she loves her job

Sometimes we don’t have time to see each other because of our schedules We try to hang out once a week if I’m here and not on tour

“Oh shut up Jin”, she answers

I feel her hands start moving on my shoulders and it feels good

She rubs her thumbs in my shoulder blades and it hurts but in a good way

“Damn Jinnie, you weren’t kidding. You’re so stiff”, she says, using both hands on one of my shoulders

“Yeah. We’re practicing so much. All the award shows are coming up and we’re performing at almost every one.”, I answer

“You’re being worked to death, you know that right?”, she says as she switches to my other shoulder

“It’s ok. I can handle it. BigHit is better than some of the other companies. We’re given a lot more freedom”

“Sure Jinnie. Whatever you say”, she answers

She doesn’t like that I’m an idol

Don’t get me wrong, she’s super proud of me and all I’ve accomplished with BTS

But she hates that I have to work all the time, that I have to practice and perform show after show

She hates that I really don’t have time to do what I want to do

It’s always work

She also hates how the media misrepresents us sometimes, how I can’t go down the street without being recognized, how our privacy is always invaded and how some fans can get She hates the sasaengs with a passion

I swear she’d kick one’s ass if she ever met one

I love that she cares about me and my well being

She’s always there for me whenever I need her even though I’m not always there for her

She really is the best friend I could ever ask for

“Take you’re shirt off and lay face down”, she orders

“What?”

Is she serious?

“Oh c'mon Jin, get your mind outta the gutter. I need to get to your back and I can’t if you’re sitting up. And your shirt’s in the way. Just do it”, she explains

I sigh

I know she’s not going to do anything

We don’t see each other that way

It’s just different

But I trust her

She moves from behind me and waits

Oh what the hell

Taking my shirt off, I turn and lay down on my stomach

She gets up and sits on my ass

“Joanne!”, I yell

What? I need to get close to you and I have no where to sit.”

“Yeah but for you have to sit right on my ass?”

“Where do you want me to sit? I can sit on you’re lower back while I massage your shoulders but I still need to sit somewhere to get your lower back”, she asks

I think but honestly there’s no where else

“Fine, do that then”, I agree

She moves and sits on my back, her legs on either side of me. Her hands go back to my shoulders and she starts rubbing, sliding her fingers on my neck and massaging there too

Her hands move all over my back, making my muscles putty under her hands

She massages me hard at first to get the knots out, then she lightens up, the massage becoming gentle

She’s so fucking good at this

She’s never massaged me before so I never knew she was good at it Honestly she’s better than most professionals

She moves again and sits back on my behind

Her hands slide down and she massages my lower back

“Fuck Jo. It feels so good”

“Good Jinnie. You’re body is so fucking tense. When was the last time you had a massage?”, she asks

“Uh…like a year ago, I think”

“That’s to long Jinnie. You gotta get it more often or you’ll fuck up your body. With how much you have to dance, you need it a lot.”

I know she’s right but there’s no time

When she finishes my back she gets off and says, “Turn around”

I turn and lay on my back. She climbs and sits on my stomach

Leaning over she starts rubbing my shoulders and then moves to my chest

Jesus I didn’t know that can feel so good.

I watch her while she massages me and her face is in such concentration at what she’s doing

Why haven’t I noticed how beautiful she is?

‘Stop it’, I think

She’s your best friend, nothing else

She takes my arm and massages down my arm, starting from my bicep to my wrist and then my hand and fingers

She’s really going all out

She switches to the other arm and does the same thing

When she finishes, she moves and sits on my thighs, completely avoiding my lap

She leans over, rubbing and squeezing my sides and stomach

God my body hasn’t felt this good and relaxed in a long time

When she’s finished she asks “Do your legs hurt too? If you change into sweats or pjs, I can massage you through the pants”

I want her too but I’m too lazy and comfortable to get up. What do I do?

Swallowing hard, I make a decision

“You can uh take them off”, I stutter

Her eyebrow shoots up

“Take you’re pants off?”, she repeats

“Uh yeah”, I blush

She shrugs, “Fine but your boxers are staying on”

I nod

She stands and takes off my belt

She unbuttons and unzips my jeans

I lift myself up so she can pull the jeans down

She gets them off and then moves my legs, opening them

She sits in the spaces between them and starts squeezing my thighs

“You and you’re thunder thighs”, she mutters

“Hey!”, I protest

“Sorry. They’re just big”, she smirks

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Yeah”

“Nice Jo”

“You’re welcome”

While she touches my thighs, I realize with horror that I’m getting hard

This entire thing, her massaging me is turning me on

Shit

What do I do?

She’s not paying attention but she’ll see it eventually

'Don’t freak out’, I tell myself

If I freak out she’ll definitely freak out Just don’t draw her attention to it

She moves down my legs, still massaging and making me more hard

I’m so scared of what she’s gonna say

When she’s done, she looks up and her eyes widen

Shit

Shit

“Oh”, is all she says

I look down

I can’t meet her eyes

“I’m sorry, it’s just all the touching-”

“I can fix it if you want”

My head snaps up to her

What?

Is she serious?

“Whh….what?”

“Not sex Jin. But I can make you cum if you want”

How is she talking about this like it’s nothing?

She’s gonna make me cum?

How?

“You don’t have to Jinnie. I’m just offering. You don’t have to take it”

“Yes”, I blurt

I don’t know why but I want her to

I want to know how she’s going to do it

How it’s going to feel

“Oh uh ok.”

She gets off the bed and stands

She pulls my boxers down to my ankles

“Do you trust me Jinnie?”, she asks

“Yeah Jo. Of course”

She nods

Then she pulls her pants and panties off

What?

I thought she said no sex

She climbs back on me

She touches my cock and pumps it a few times then lays it flat on my stomach

I’m so fucking horny and I want to know what she’s going to do

She moves up and I suck in a breath when I see her pussy

I want to touch her

Reaching out, I touch her and shit she’s wet

She breathes harder and I move my fingers on her clit

She lets out a little whimper and fuck I love it

I slide my fingers inside her, her pussy clenchjng hard around them

Jesus, she’s so wet

She gently takes my fingers out of her, then moves down and puts her wet pussy right on my cock

Fuck, it feels good

Slowly she starts moving, sliding along my shaft

I moan from the pleasure that hits my body

How is this feeling so good?

She’s just rubbing herself on my cock and it feels this good

“Jo-”

“Shhh Jinnie. Just feel ok? Just let me massage you and make you feel good ok?”, she whispers

I moan and nod

She changes the way she moves

First she presses hard on me and moves up and down slowly on my entire length

I can’t tear my eyes away from her pussy on me

Then she starts moving faster still pressing hard

“Oh my god”, I moan

Her pussy leaves my cock so slick with her juice and honestly I just want more on me

Then she presses lightly and moves slow again for awhile until she starts to move fast

But the best and what drives me crazy is when she slides up and rubs right on the sensitive underside of my head

She changes her speed a lot as I watch her

First fast, then slow, then fast again and somewhere in between

The pleasure is so fucking intense, running up and down my spine

“You gonna cum Jinnie?”, she asks, starting to move faster

Watching her pussy glide over my head and leaving me soaking wet, pushes me over the edge

“Fuck fuck fuck”, I yell, coming on my stomach

Oh god it feels so fucking good

She keeps rubbing on me until I finish then gets off and sits next to me

She touches my cock, wiping the cum from my tip

I watch as she puts her fingers in her mouth

Oh my god

Did she just?

She leans over me and licks my cum from my stomach

Holy shit, she did

My mouth drops open as I watch her lick all the cum from my body and swallow

It’s so fucking hot

When she’s done, she just says, “You taste good Jinnie”

Holy fuck

She’s going to kill me

She’s going to get me hard again

She glances at my clock and says, “I gotta go Jin

I have to get up early

A tiger is supposed give birth tomorrow and I have to be there”

Wait what?

That’s it?

She just made me feel incredible and she’s just going to leave?

Did she even cum?

She climbs over me and starts pulling her panties on

“Wait Jo…..did you c-”

“No Jinnie. It’s ok. Don’t worry about me. Everything was just for you”

“But Jo”

“It’s ok Jin. I really have to go. Call me when you wanna hang out again ok?”, she smiles at me

Uh....

“Ok”, I answer at a loss for words

She waves and leaves

What the fuck just happened?

My best friend massaged my cock…with her pussy?

And she made me cum

And she didn’t want anything back

And why do I want her to do it again?

'Because it felt so goddamn good’, I tell myself

I can’t wrap my head around this

🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹🐹

Four Months Later

Jin POV

“Hey Jo. Can you uh massage me later?”, I ask her

“Sure Jinnie”, she answers then goes back to the couch, next to Tae, puts her head on his shoulder and watches the movie

And I instantly get jealous

Ever since that day, she used herself to massage me to cum, I’ve asked her to do it a lot

And she always says yes

She comes to the dorm or I go to her apartment

We both undress from the bottom down, then she climbs on me and rubs me with her pussy until I cum

Then she licks my cum off me

After that we hang out like normal

Like we didn’t just do something sexual

We watch movies, get food, play games and talk

I’m with her as much as I can be

The only thing that bothers me is that she doesn’t cum

I mean she’s so soaked everytime but she doesn’t cum or let me make her cum

When I brought it up to her, she just shrugged and said that she’s happy to just do it for me and that she doesn’t need to cum

I accepted that at first but now it’s different

Because I’m not with her all the time just to cum

I actually haven’t asked her to do it for awhile except for today

She does it on her own

She takes me to whatever bed we’re near and she does it

And I fucking love it, love being with her so I give in

Because I’m in love with her

I’m in love with my best friend

I’m with her all the time because I want to spend time with her

Once I realized I fell in love, I stopped asking her to massage me

I just want to be with her, doing whatever

Just sitting next to her and looking at her is enough

And honestly that’s what I’ve been doing- all the time

When we watch movies, tv or play video games all I do is stare at her

She doesn’t notice and I always avert my eyes quickly when she looks over at me

She hasn’t shown any sign of feeling anything more for me than friendship

She never holds my hand, never lays with me after she makes me feel good, never puts her head on my shoulder when we’re watching tv like she’s doing with Tae now, never kissed me

She’ll do something sexual with me but she hasn’t kissed me once

I can’t take it anymore

I want her

I want to be with her in every way

I asked her to be with me to get her alone, because I’m going to tell her I love her

I’m terrified but I need to tell her

--------------------------------

She follows me to my room

I sit on the bed and she sits next to me

“Jo-”, I start

“Shh Jinnie. I’m going to make you feel so good”

“But Jo.”

“Yeah?”, she asks as she reaches over me and palms me through my pants

Fuck

Any touch she gives me makes me so hard

And shuts my brain off

I want her so fucking much

And I give in

I pull her up and pull her pants and panties down

She takes my pants and boxers off

She pushes me on my back and immediately climbs on me

She lays my cock on my stomach again and puts herself on me

She starts sliding up and down and I moan so loudly

“You like it Jinnie?”

“Yes. Always”, I answer

“I like making you feel good”, she answers, moving to my head and sliding her wet pussy on it

She likes to tease me because she knows that’s my favorite spot

So she’ll do it there for awhile then move off

I can’t fucking take it

I want her

“Jo…ccc….can I go inside?”, I stutter

“What?”, she asks but doesn’t stop moving

“I wwww…..want you. I want to be inside you”

“You want sex?”, she asks, stopping

“No Jo. Not just sex. I want to be with you. I want to make you feel good, I want to make you cum, I want to kiss you, hold you. That’s what I want”, I admit sitting up with her still on me

“Jinnie…”

My heart constricts in my chest and I look down

She doesn’t want me

That kills me

But I’m not going to force her

I would never hurt her

“Yes Jinnie”, she says, lifting my face to hers

“Yes?”, I repeat

“Jinnie, I want you. I…”, she trails off

She what?

I want to know

What is she going to say?

That it’s just this once?

That she’s going to want it all the time?

I don’t care, I’ll give it to her

“What Jo?”

“Jinnie, I….I…..”,

She looks down, takes a deep breath and looks back at me

“Jinnie I love you”, she says softly

She…she loves me?

I let it sink in

She loves me!

“I’m in love with you Jinnie. Since we started this and we’ve been together all the time, I’ve fallen in love with you. I love spending time with you and I do love making you feel good. I wasn’t going to tell you but I…shit…I don’t know why I told you. Shit…I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be sorry Jo.”, I interrupt, “Please don’t be sorry”

I can’t let her apologize for loving me when I love her so much

She looks away but I gently turn her face back to me

“I love you too”, I tell her

“Www…what?”

“Jo, the reason I asked you to my room wasn’t to do this. It was to tell you I love, that I’m in love with you and to ask you to be mine. But then you touched me and anytime you touch me anywhere you get me hard and I just went with it”

She’s staring at me wide eyed and I can’t get over how beautiful she is

“I love you so much Jo. Can you please be mine?”, I ask

She nods immediately, “Yes Jinnie, yes”

She moves closer and kisses me

Oh god, her kiss is everything

It fucking blows my mind

I wrap my arms around her, my hand sliding in her hair and her arms going around my neck

She pulls away and says, “I love you Jin”

The biggest smile burst on my face, “I love you Joanne”

I pull her back to me in a heated kiss

She pulls my shirt up and I let go of her lips so she can take it off

I grab her shirt and have it off in a second

She kisses me passionately again, her tongue going in my mouth and making me moan

I reach around her and unclasp her bra, taking it off

She pushes me back and starts moving her hips, sliding herself on me again

“Oh fuck!”, I yell

When she slides up to my head, I move a little and slide inside her

“Oh shit”, she yells as I get all the way in

“Oh my god Joanne! Fuck me, you feel so good”

She feels so tight and so fucking wet. She fits around me perfectly

She leans down and kisses me again, then sits back up and starts bouncing on me

Sheer pleasure runs through my veins

“Oh Jinnie! Oh god!”, she moans, moving rapidly on me

She’s so fucking sexy and watching her ride me is such a turn on

She leans back, putting her arms behind her on my thighs and moves so much harder and faster

I thrust up, watching my cock go in and out of her and hitting so deep

I slam a spot in her and she yells, “There Jinnie. Oh fuck baby, don’t stop”

“I won’t princess, I won’t not until you cum”

I love listening to her moaning

I feel her throbbing on me and I know she’s close

I slam her in her spot again and again making her scream

And my door opens just as she cums

“Jin what’s-”

“Jin! Oh god Jin! Yes Seokjin!”, she screams, coming hard, body shaking hard and feeling so goddamn incredible

I had no idea it could feel so fucking pleasurable to be cummed on

“Baby, Jinnie, more Jin, please baby”, she begs

“Anything you want Jo.”, I answer

I pull out pick her up and throw her to the foot of my bed on her back

Opening her legs again I bury myself in her

“Yes!”, she cries

I lean over and kiss her lips, then move down, kissing her neck and moving hard in her

“Oh god”, I hear a gasp

Shit.

I vaguely remember the door being opened

I look up at the door, still slamming in her and see all the guys staring at us in various stages stages of shock

“Get the fuck out!”, I growl

“Jin harder, Jin”, she moans, oblivious to the guys watching

She’s gripping my upper arm so tightly and moaning

I snap my hips harder, driving myself in her as hard as I can

“Yes yes yes!”, she cries

“I said get out!”, I yell at them

They all jump, close the door and I go back to her

I kiss her again, then move on my knees, one of her legs wrapped around me and I grab the other holding it out wide

“Jin, fuck Jin, you’re cock feels so good baby.”

“It’s all for you, my beautiful princess. You can have me anytime you want”

I feel her getting ready

“Cum Joanne. I want you to cum right now!”

“Fffff……Fuck!”, she cries, pussy clenching me as she releases all over me

“Jin! Fuck Seokjin!”

“Yes princess, fuck yes. Again baby. Give it to me again”, I order

I slam her and find her spot again

“Oh god!”, she screams in ecstacy

I turn her on her side and hold one leg up, pounding into her spot over and over

“Cum now!”, I demand and she listens, orgasming again, legs shaking

“Fuck Jo, you’re so fucking gorgeous when you cum. I want to watch you some more. Can you give me more princess?”, I plead

“Yes Jin. I’ll give you whatever you want”, she answers, shouting

“Good girl. My good girl”, I praise her, “My princess”

Moving again, she screams while another orgasm rips through her

“Good girl”, I repeat, fucking her hard through her orgasm

I pull out, get her on her hands and knees and plunge back in

“Yes oh fuck yes!”, she shouts, “Fuck Jin, I love you’re cock baby. I love you’re big, hard cock fucking me”

Yes, I love that she loves my cock and how good I fuck her

Gripping her hips, I move her on and off me hard

“Yes Jinnie, yes baby. Give it to me baby”, she moans

“Are you gonna cum princess? Or do I have to stop?”, I tease her, pounding away in her tight pussy

“No don’t stop Jin. I’ll cum. I promise, just don’t stop”

“Ok princess but I want it”

“Yes Jinnie”

I drive my cock against her spot again and again, her screaming incoherently

I need more

I fucking need it

“Again Joanne. Now”, I hit her spot again, “Again princess. I need it, one more time so I can cum”

Another slam

“Seokjin!”, she screams at the top of her lungs, her whole body shaking violently as she struggles to keep herself up

I watch her cum coat my cock, more going on me the longer her orgasm lasts

I slam in her once more and cum, screaming her name from the intense pleasure I’m feeling

I pull out of her just as she collapses on the bed

I need to fucking lay down

My body isn’t used to this kind of pleasure

But I need her in my arms

I pick her up and settle her on me as I lay back

I move her sweaty hair from her face and run my fingers in it

I feel her heart beating so rapidly against my skin

“Jin, fuck Jin. That was amazing. You were amazing”, she breathes

“You were too princess. It wasn’t just me”

She lifts her head tiredly and smiles at me shyly, “I like when you call me princess”

I smile, “You are Jo. You’re my princess”

She touches my face, stroking my cheek, “You my worldwide handsome prince”, she says softly

I like that, a lot

She moves a little closer and kisses my lips, so softly and lovingly

“I love you Jinnie”

“I love you Jo”, I answer, “Can you stay with me tonight princess? I don’t want to sleep without you”

“Yeah Jinnie. I want to stay with you. All the time”

“You can princess. You can stay with me all the time”

She kisses me again and lays back down on me

“I love you”, she sighs

“I love you”, I tell her

I play with her hair, closing my eyes and fall asleep with her in my arms

[dontlikeconflict]

“I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world”

It’s so quiet, it’s always quiet now. The town surrounding Castiel was filled with vacant buildings, abandoned homes, and so many items scattered showing the hasty way that the people had to flee (if they were lucky enough to get away). Cas missed when there was noise everywhere, when there were cars, and children playing, when he could walk in a crowd and not be seen as the angel of death. The one who tells them to flee, the one who stands in wait.

It had become like a sick game over the years. Dean moved, ravaging everything in sight, and Cas did all he could to stay one step ahead. To herd people away, to warn them that he was coming. And then he does what he’s doing now, he waits for Dean. Tries to plan what he could possibly say or do. There have been times when it felt like he was close, when he got through to him even for a moment, but those moments always passed. Most recently when they had fought, there was a moment when he held Dean firm, angled towards the body of a woman that he had effortlessly cut away from this world, and made him look. Forced his eyes to her blonde hair, and her pale skin, and spoke in his ear of those he loved who could have easily been this woman: Jo, Mary, Jessica. Cas spoke their names like a prayer, hoping they would embed themselves deep in Dean’s skin, deeper than the mark could reach. Hoping the blood seeping into this dead girl's hair wasn't for nothing.

 But it was. 

The number of dead only continued to rise, and the shining light of Dean Winchester's soul only continued to darken. And all Cas could do was try, do as he had always done and follow Dean, to the very end. 

“Just you and me again Cas?” Dean didn't try to hide, or sneak as he approached, they both knew Cas couldn't kill him (he had tried before) “Where's the rest of the party?”

“Dean.” Despite himself, he felt warm. Every time he got to set eyes on his friend without fresh blood on his hands, felt like a blessing. With everyone they had loved long gone, all they had was each other, for better or for worse. 

“Still doing this cat and mouse bit? I move and you scurry?” his face was blank, no smile, no frown; like he was a god - or devil - forced to speak to an ant. 

Some part of Cas could never stop seeing his Dean, troubled since he was a child but still always the brightest light in any room, at least to Cas. His soul was so full of love, the prime motivator for all his actions, leading him to pain over and over again. Cas could still see that soul, twisted and deformed by the mark, like thick scars, covering almost every surface. But still, there was always the memory of fresh skin, of the very thing that willed the wounds to heal. That was what was left of Dean’s once bright soul, scar tissue, desperately trying to recreate what was there before. 

“What if I said no?” it was said before he had a chance to pull it back. A thought that had lingered in his mind for so long, one so tempting. No matter what he did, The Mark continued to push, murdering everything it could, consuming infinitely. Nothing could stop it, Castiel could not stop it. Effort, hope, love, none of these things could defeat The Mark. None of these things could bring Dean back from the hell he had created. And Cas knew even if the mark disappeared, the selfless man he knew, the righteous man, would never be able to deal with what he had done, how many he had taken from this world, the cries and begs that he met with the horrible wet thud of the first blade as it sunk into flesh, not sharp enough to fully slice, but not blunt enough to just bruise. 

Dean didn't respond to the vague statement, just stared at Cas, just as angry and hollow as that day all those years ago, when the angel had warned him of this very moment. The horror that Dean had forced him to watch. Looking into those eyes, Cas knew it was time.

“We’ve been through much together, you and I” It was hard not to tear up as he tried to think of all the things he wanted to say “It may be selfish of me but I do not regret saving you”

Dean still stared, his eyes still cold. Cas thought maybe that was for the best.

“Knowing you has changed me, I am the person I am, because of you”

Cas allowed his blade to fall from his sleeve into his hand, Dean’s eyes fall on it, before looking back to his face. 

“And even though you are no longer the Dean Winchester I once knew, I still consider you my family. The only family I have left, as I know I am yours”

Cas stepped forward, slowly, blade in hand until the two were less than a meter apart.

“You saved the world many times over Dean, maybe it is fitting that you are the one to end it. Maybe since you saved me, it too is fitting…” 

Cas flips the blade, holding the handle out to Dean 

“That you end me too.”

They look at each other for an age, Cas’ eyes tearful, Deans hollow. A million lifetimes worth of connection between them, whether it is wanted or not.

It's slow as Dean’s hands reach up to take the blade, not a mad rush of bloodlust, but the natural conclusion to their story. An ending that was always there on the horizon, inevitable and all-encompassing. Castiel always knew he would die for Dean Winchester. 

When the blade sinks into his heart, he knows it is final, God has abandoned them and there is no one to bring him back. Dean's hands come up to lower his dying body to the ground, but his eyes are still dark. All scar tissue, nothing left.

AO3

[littlemisspascal]

Getting Lost is Being Found

pairing: joel x female reader

rating: M. 18+ only.

word count: 5.4k

summary:

When you finally brought yourself to open your mouth, it wasn’t a question that came out. It was a fact, simple and blunt. “You’re one of them.”

“I am,” he replied, the sun still emblazoning him in radiant light. Almost made it hurt to look at him. “But I never wanted to be a human again until I saw you.”

warnings: black dog/hellhound au with hints of a bigger plot that I'm too tired to dive into. reader is referenced as smaller + younger than Joel. alpha/omega dynamics. slices of life. time jumps. non-descriptive smut. fast burn/love at first sight. biting. blood. rough handling. language. non-major character death(s). thunderstorms. reference of reader's parents. nudity. sneaking in a CoD reference cuz why not

note: Trying to remember how to write for the fun of it. This is the result *awkwardly throws out into the universe*

i.

You stand on your bedroom’s balcony, concrete tiles cold beneath your bare feet. Your eyes look towards the horizon, fingers tightening around the wrought iron railing.

A storm brews. The sun is swiftly retreating behind the distant hills, leaving the city dark and cold in its wake. Electricity taints the air, the hair on the back of your neck prickling -

And then you hear it, harmonizing with the thunder’s rumblings, the ghastly howls of the Black Dogs chasing down the scent of their prey.

ii.

Nightspyre, for all its blackouts and seediness, isn’t the worst place to call home. Not when you’re collared and marked by an Alpha, not when your Alpha has stared Death in the eye and made Her flinch. Not when retaliation for every spilt drop of innocent blood emerges each sundown in the guise of hulking shadows and gleaming red eyes.

The collar had been your request. An old-fashioned tradition dating back centuries, replaced in recent years by sharper, more permanent means of securing a mate. Your mother, rest her soul, had treated her collar as her most prized possession every moment of her short life. Red velvet with a gold tag inscribed with your father’s name. Gone are the days Omegas gathered and gossiped over the patterns and colors adorning their necks. Bitemarks are the present trend, judged and compared by the size, placement, and number of teeth.

They’re advertised as the ultimate display of devotion. A lifelong promise between an Alpha and their chosen mate. A claim warning off others from sniffing too closely. Simply put: a marked Omega is a loved Omega. 

But you learned the hard way when people saw your mark, they didn't see love. They saw something cruel. Something monstrous.

Only when you began wearing a collar you'd fallen in love with after seeing it in the window of a thrift store, adorned with faint golden moons and stars, did the concerned looks and judgmental whispers gradually stop. Convinced them maybe your Alpha wasn't so heartless as they initially believed.

After all, everyone knows monsters don't know how to be gentle. It goes against their very nature. Everything they touch dies an agonizing death.

iii.

“Do you think it’s possible? To know someone your whole life and also know nothing about them at all?” you ask, fingertips tracing the jagged edges of the bite beneath the curve of your collarbone. It’s a hideous thing made in a frenzied moment of raw need, consequentially stained your favorite sheets irredeemably scarlet. 

Your Alpha looks up from where he’d been dragging his tongue over the knob of your hip bone, replying, “Of course.” He moves to hover over you, bracketing your head with his arms, fogging your senses with his distinct scent of petrichor and woodsmoke. “As long as lies exist, no one’s ever truly known. Just pieces of ‘em.”

“Pieces, huh?” You touch his face now, thumb lifting his upper lip in the semblance of a snarl, revealing a glimpse of too-sharp teeth. “I wouldn’t mind collecting more of yours, Jo–”

A warning nip to your hand, blood hot under the surface. “Careful what you wish for.”

iv.

Lightning bathes the living room in a flash of white. Outside the city is wet and dismal, but here, inside, it’s flickering candlelight, and your Alpha is pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, body more shadow than flesh, and you close your eyes, allowing yourself a moment to pretend the hand on your cheek has fingers instead of claws.

v.

Three years ago you first saw Joel during one of the worst storms in Nightspyre’s long history. You’d been new to the city after finishing your degree and securing a job there, still a rookie navigator of its maze of cobblestone streets and alleyways. The weather was a fickle tormentor, you quickly learned, swapping between dry heat and violent downpour seemingly at whim. You’d entered a restaurant for a late supper in cloudless twilight, and exited an hour later to bone-chilling rain hurtling down from a pitch black sky. And it had been a miserable discovery for you to make whilst shivering beneath the front entry of an abandoned church, paint-chipped with boarded up windows, that absolutely nothing looked familiar in the rain. For all you knew, you’d tripped and stumbled into a completely different world.

A lightning bolt streaked across the sky, your eyes following its descent from the heavens, and that was when you first saw it. A black dog prowling amongst the faded and cracked tombstones, tail unnaturally stiff, seeming completely indifferent to the pouring rain—and ‘dog’ seemed like an insulting descriptive at the time, too small and domestic for the behemoth canine, but calling it a wolf didn’t settle right with you either. It was…it was…

It was staring right at you now, crimson eyes cutting across the distance and the darkness like searchlights. You froze, heart lodged in your throat, and it was such a bizarre thing, to be in the presence of something as simultaneously terrifying as it was so eerily beautiful. And the longer you stared, the more convinced you became that this was no ordinary creature. There was a dreamlike quality to its appearance, blurry around the edges, like it could change shapes at any second. 

Fuck, maybe you had tripped into a completely different world.

Another bolt of lightning bathed the cemetery yard in white light, the dog’s figure caught in the flash. Its black fur was thick around its neck, adding further bulk to its already broad body, and completely dry all over despite the puddle forming at its paws. You heard the uptick of your rampant heartbeat. Instinct screamed at you to run, but something else made you stay. A conviction you both were meant to share this moment together.

And it scared you how much that belief didn’t scare you.

Darkness swallowed the light again, taking the red eyes with it. You remember how you’d stood there until the clouds changed from black to gray, rain losing some of its vicious sting upon striking your skin, and you’d returned home in a numbed state of exhaustion and confusion. In the days that followed, you didn’t get sick from the incident, not even so much as a sniffle, adding another layer of oddness to the whole ordeal. And that dog…you couldn’t shake it from your mind. 

You wanted to know more about it. Any and every last scrap of detail you could find.

vi.

Welcome back! Your recent internet searches:

black dog breeds

massive black dogs with red eyes

black dog folklore

hellhounds

People also searched for:

fairy hounds

perro negro

okuri-inu

the hound of the baskervilles

dogs in folklore, religion and mythology

vii.

“You realize how ridiculous you sound, right?” Abe told you, wiping at his glasses with a cloth, a nervous twitch in his fingers. “The Black Dogs are a silly legend to scare children. Anyone who says they’re real is selling something.”

“I’ll tell Professor Ratna you said that,” you replied with a smirk.

Your quest for answers revealed everyone had an opinion one way or the other on the topic of massive red-eyed, dark-furred canines. Most thought they were myths limited to the boundaries of their pages in books or the online web. A few though, spoke in hushed murmurs, casting around wary glances, as if afraid of accidentally summoning one from the depths of the earth. Others talked with booming voices and gesticulating hands, telling you everything you wanted to hear like they’d been waiting for this conversation their whole lives. 

One homeless drunkard who dwelled in the alleyway next to 57th Street Tavern explained through slurred words, “I’ve seen ‘em, twice I have. They’re big brutes, shaking the ground when they walk. But–but they leave nothing behind. No tracks. Scary fuckers, they are. And they know it–they feast off fear, then they feast on flesh.”

You asked him how he’d lived through the close encounters unscathed and he shrugged off the question. “I ain’t never hurt nobody. The folks they hunt down, they’re already going to hell. The Dogs just bring ‘em there faster.”

You’d visited Professor Ratna next, catching the older woman in-between classes during her lunch break. She’d politely entertained your inquiry rather than outright scoff at it as the rest of the university faculty had done. “My specialty is mycology, not folklore, so I am no expert on the subject,” she said, taking a sip of tea. “That being said, I’d urge you to be cautious if you’re going to continue going around asking these questions. Few things happen in this city the Dogs don’t know about.”

“Makes it sound like they’re keeping the city hostage.”

She set down her teacup and looked you straight in the eye. “No, my dear. They are what keeps the city safe.”

You had left her office even more unsure of your own convictions than you’d felt when you arrived.

“Well, if you’re ever unlucky enough to come across one, run the other way as fast as you can,” Abe said, hesitantly looking up to meet your gaze. “Don’t even think about trying to pet it.”

The thought honestly hadn’t crossed your mind until then. It sounded like the quickest surefire way to lose a hand, perhaps even the whole limb. But if you had taken the chance at the church, you couldn’t help but what would the pelt have felt like –

Thick, dense fur like other canines? Or deceptively smooth and oily like a serpent’s scales?

(The answer, as it turns out, is a curious mix of both.)

viii.

The next day, a man knocked on your front door. He was tall, body thick with muscle and marked with smatterings of freckles and–oh. Your gaze stopped on his abdomen, refusing to dip any lower as realization turned your brain to mush. 

He wasn’t wearing a stitch of clothing. Nude as the day he was born.

He wasn’t saying anything either, brown eyes sweeping over your face like he was trying to memorize every detail. In another setting, preferably one without nakedness, perhaps over a candlelit dinner, you would have been flattered by the attention but as it was –

Pressing closer against the safety of the door, you took a tentative sniff of the air. His Alpha scent knocked into you like a tidal wave, barely stifling a reflexive whine in your throat. He smelled like thunderstorms, electric and pungent, like wet grass and ozone all blended together. And something else beneath the surface, something distinctly fiery. Smoky. God, you wanted to drown in that scent.

But first things first –

“What the hell are you doing here?”

The Alpha’s nostrils flared, followed by a low rumble from the depths of his chest that had your grip on the door tightening to keep you from doing something embarrassing  (shamelessly flinging yourself at him came to mind). “I followed your scent. Mint and vanilla.” Another inhale, deeper this time, eyes darkening. “Sassafras.”

His voice was hoarse, grating. Sounded like he hadn’t used it in months, maybe even years.

Your thoughts deserted you again, leaving you to dumbly stare at him for a moment. “Um.”

You’d dated a couple Alphas in the past, nothing that ever developed seriously and that was mostly due to the fact they all didn’t like your scent. Scent-compatibility was an essential factor when it came to bonding–after all, you’d be smelling that scent for the rest of your lives together so it was better to be a pleasing one. One described it as boring, another said it was too clean. Whatever that meant.

But this Alpha—this strange, heavenly-smelling, unfairly attractive man liked your scent enough he followed it all the way to your front door. 

“I–uh,” you blinked once, twice, slowly rebooting your brain, “what was your name again?”

The question had a curious effect on the man, emotions rippling across his face, one after the other, looking lost, but only for an instant, before he swallowed thickly, throat bobbing in a distracting manner.

“It’s Joel.” The corner of his mouth dipped. “I think.”

“You think?” you echoed, eyebrows raising. Who didn’t know their own name?

He lapsed back into silence, but there was a defensive edge to it that wasn’t there before. 

You exhaled a quiet breath and gave him a scrutinizing look, gaze dragging all the way from his head to his dirty bare feet and back up again without pausing on any…intimate areas. You wished you could peel back his layers, cut straight through the weird aura and iron defenses and find out what was there at his center that he’d hidden away.

It must be something incredibly precious, you thought. 

Or something shockingly hideous.

“Tell me, Joel,” you crossed your arms to hide your trembling hands, “have we met before?”

The Alpha tilted his head, midafternoon sunlight turning the dark of his eyes into liquid gold. He swallowed again, then quietly admitted, “Once. A couple nights ago…”

You found yourself leaning closer. He didn’t move away. You could almost taste the rain, the howling wind, the thunderclaps, the lightning, everything wild clinging to his skin. 

“Are you–” You cut yourself off, glancing away. You worried your bottom lip for a moment, hesitant to release the words burning on your tongue, scared of their potentially devastating influence. 

“You’ve been asking an awful lot of questions around town, Sass,” Joel said, soft as a caress. “Haven’t you figured it out by now?”

And that – well, that just about confirmed every last suspicion you had.

When you finally brought yourself to open your mouth, it wasn’t a question that came out. It was a fact, simple and blunt. “You’re one of them.”

“I am,” he replied, the sun still emblazoning him in radiant light. Almost made it hurt to look at him. “But I never wanted to be a human again until I saw you.”

ix.

“Any regrets, Sass?” Joel asks in the midnight hours.

“Hmm?” You curl closer, ear pressed against the steady thrum of his heartbeat.

“If you’d known it’d be like this,” he whispers into your hair. “Would you have run away if you had the chance?”

“Maybe,” you say, and you feel more than see the sudden tension roll through his body, shielding himself from the hurt. “But I would’ve found my way back sooner or later. I’d miss you too much.”

Joel says nothing, doesn’t have to. The way he presses you into the mattress, moves inside you, against you, with roaming hands and searing kisses, becoming one — speaks volumes more than words could ever convey.  

x.

The south side of Nightspyre is a haven for smugglers and thugs, consisting of multiple rows of derelict warehouses and an understaffed police presence, half concealed in the smog produced by the factory district. The streets are sticky with unknown substances beneath your shoes, each breath burning the inside of your nose.

“Gets prettier every time I visit,” Tess says wryly, standing next to you and looking at a spray-painted dick on the side of a dumpster.

You shoot your friend an amused look. Her brown hair’s half-up in a bun, she’s tough as nails, and carries at least four concealed weapons on her person at any given point. Female Alphas aren’t a common sight in the city, but Tess’ intimidating presence fends off the inappropriate comments, striking fear into the hearts of even the biggest Alphas with one icy glare. She’s the perfect ally to have by your side.

“Let’s just grab Joel and get out of here.” You pick up the pace. Your eyes note the different colored ribbons hanging from the overhead telephone wires. Each represents an illegal activity, whether it be gambling or drugs. If one knows their code, these ribbons act as a map of the district.  

Tess holds a hand up, stopping at a crossroads. You watch as she looks to the left, center, and right, then up at the ribbons–red, orange, and black respectively. The code regularly changes depending on the month or weather or local events, memorized by those who frequently visit the area, but there is one warning that will never be made different.

“Beware the path marked by the ribbon dyed black,” you recite quietly. “For if you follow it, you’ll surely become the next meal of the pack.”

“Sure you don’t wanna grab a drink instead?” Tess asks, jerking a thumb in the direction of the orange ribbon. 

You say nothing, adjusting the shoulder strap of your bag, and turn right – trusting that your friend will follow close behind, watching your back as she always has since you first met.

xi.

It's a wonder that there's enough of the body left to investigate, you think, crouching behind a car that smells overwhelming of weed and watching a group of men in police uniforms toss around ideas about who or what killed the dismembered and burnt corpse.

Deaths like this, they're how the myth of the Black Dogs continues to circulate and gain credence amongst the locals. The police, on the other hand, refuse to acknowledge them or the black ribbons pointing the way. They'll claim any other excuse under the sun - rabid wildlife, homicidal rage fueled by drugs or alcohol, deranged serial killers, hell even lightning strikes - but to openly admit beasts of folklore are responsible for the high fatality rate? Not a fucking chance.

They've tried setting traps a few times, reassuring folks they'll catch whatever savage thing is responsible for making the streets run red with blood. "Don't worry," they always say. "We have everything under control."

It’s you who should be worried, you want to retort, images flickering through your mind of sharpened teeth and paws the size of tires. Only a fool attempts to catch a hurricane in a glass jar. 

xii.

It’s another forty-five minutes before you find him.

You slide down a steep slope of dead grass, fresh mud from last night’s storm painting the sides of your pants, seeping into your shoes, almost dragging you face-first into the brown sludge of Pickett’s River if not for Tess’ fast reflexes. Eyes on the culvert pipe, you grit your teeth, remind yourself why you’re here, and step forward into the mess of sewage and soil and rainwater. Disgust is immediate, soaked above your knees, but you force yourself to take another step and another and another until you reach the large, ebony mass lying at the culvert’s gaping mouth, black mist emanating from his heaving flank.

“There you are,” you murmur, dropping to your knees near the muzzy outline of his head. Triangular ears twitch before they are concealed in a haze of shadow again. Your heart sinks, forcing a bit of levity into your tone. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, yeah? Our backyard is a helluva lot nicer than this shithole.”

“I’ll build a doghouse for him myself if it’ll save me from getting dragged outta bed at this ungodly hour,” Tess offers from somewhere behind you.

She’s smart enough to stay back, especially when the sound of her voice has eyes snapping open in a blaze of red, immediately narrowing into smoldering slits, lips curling back from bloodstained teeth, snarling in challenge. 

“None of that,” you scold, followed by a bop against his nose with your finger. He stills, some of the feral luster clearing from his eyes. His body remains primed to fight, muscles coiled, lingering side effects from last night’s hunt. “It’s over. It’s a new day.” A hot breath of air wafts over your face, flooding your nostrils with a concoction of coppery blood, damp earth, and sulfur. “Fucking hell, that’s awful. You, Alpha mine, need a toothbrush. No, scratch that, you need to gargle bleach to get that nastiness out of your mouth. Ugh.”

Joel shoves his head forward, rumbling a deep, guttural note as his wet nose pressed against the vulnerable tendon of your throat, a hint of teeth grazing your pulse. If not for the bitemark under your shirt and the history of early mornings identical to this one spanning across the course of your relationship, perhaps you might have screamed or fainted in fright. Given the circumstances though, you merely tilt your head back further, allowing him to drink his fill of your scent until he remembers.

He had explained once, his human memories were like sand in this form, his mind an hourglass torn between two lives. Your scent triggers the reset, tipping everything right side up again, memories falling back into place until the next hunt steals them back again.

You know when it clicks because Joel’s breath hitches, a violent shudder rippling along his spine. It’s always agonizing, watching him transform, listening to the grinding and splintering of bones and sinew realigning themselves. The cloud of obsidian mist begins to lighten, the once ambiguous outline of a colossal beast slowly, so painstakingly slowly merging into a man – naked, trembling from the aftershocks, clinging to consciousness by his own stubborn will. 

Brown eyes meet yours, blood smeared across his mouth and beard. “Sass,” he says, a dry rasp sending a wave of warmth all the way down to your frozen and wet toes. “Aren’t you getting tired of coming after me yet?”

“Nah,” you shake your head, smiling. “I think it’s good for our relationship. Keeps things interesting.”

He snorts. “Interesting. Sure, that’s a word for it. How many times’ it been this week? Two, three?”

“Four,” Tess chimes in, punctuated by a pair of jeans striking Joel square in the face.

“Mornin’ Tess,” is the low, sheepish response from your Alpha. He pulls the pants off his head, hair ruffled every which way. “Didn’t see you there. Is that a new haircut? It’s nice. Suits you.”

Your friend hums, unimpressed. She used to think you were cute together, that the twang of his accent was amusing, but after eight months of accompanying you in retrieving his naked ass from various sordid and revolting sites around Nightspyre she’s become immune to his charms.

You pull out a shirt and shoes from your own bag. “We’ve gotta get a move on. Police already think you’re strange. Don’t need to give ‘em another reason to dislike you.”

“Four hunts in one week,” Joel mutters under his breath as he begins dressing, a disturbed look in his eye, and you hear what he isn’t saying, unspoken words weighing heavily upon your chest like individual stones.

Four more damned souls.

xiii.

Sometimes you can’t find him the morning after a hunt, losing him amongst the creeping shadows, and you’re forced to wait, anxious and helpless, until there’s another storm, another hunt, another death to reunite with him. 

Those times, the house feels too empty and your bitemark aches something fierce, a brand seared against your skin. Nightmares plague your sleep until your sheets are a tangle of sweat and tears. The cloudless blue skies and starry nights are further personal insults, mocking your heartache.

xiv.

It’s a tricky concept to wrap your head around, the idea that Joel had once been a human decades, perhaps centuries ago. Time isn’t something Black Dogs keep track of and Nightspyre’s historical archives are in the city hall’s basement which floods every other rainfall. He’s older than you, that’s something you can confidently say. Less confidently you can guesstimate he was probably in his late thirties when he was turned.

Your first year together you tried to piece together his story, pestering him with whatever question crossed your mind. Were you born here? What were your parents like? Any siblings? Hobbies? Your attempts proved mostly unrewarding though - his memories of that life are few and flimsy, giving him a headache if he thinks about them too long - and by now you’ve learned he prefers to make new memories than dwell in the past.

The day he knocked on your door becomes his birthday. He turns forty and who gives a fuck if it’s accurate or not, certainly not either of you. You celebrate with cake and ice cream topped with hot fudge.

“My mother used to make cake like this,” Joel says after swallowing a bite. You look at him, your own spoon hovering in front of your mouth, ice cream threatening to melt, but his eyes are glossed over, lost in a memory, and you can’t bring yourself to move, scared of disrupting the moment. “She added chocolate chips in it. Made it sweeter. She’d let me lick the batter from the spoon.”

An image of a young Joel forms unbiddenly in your mind. You can imagine him hovering at his mother’s side, waiting patiently as she scoops and pours and mixes the ingredients, how wide he’d grin when he finally got his prize, smearing chocolatey goodness across his mouth.

“Your ice cream’s melting,” Joel’s voice yanks you back to the present.

You blink a few times, reconciling the child in your head with the Alpha in front of you, then look down at your spoon where, sure enough, the ice cream’s more of a liquid than a solid, blending with the cake and fudge in a gooey swirl. You stick it in your mouth, not really tasting, not really thinking except -

Next year you’ll remember to buy chocolate chips.

xv.

A horde of ominously gray clouds accumulates on the horizon, blotting out the sun. Standing together on the balcony, Joel drapes himself over your backside, chin on your shoulder, both your gazes locked ahead.

“Death is becoming greedy,” you say, mouth coated in bitter venom. You don’t care if She overhears, so long as you carry his mark you’re untouchable. Not even Her powers can disentwine your souls. Where one goes, the other will follow - and she needs Joel too much at the moment to let him go just yet.

“It’s not Her. There’s something else poisoning the city, rotting it from the inside out…” Joel trails off, interrupted by the first drizzling drops of rain, the distant clap of thunder summoning his alternate form to the surface. His fingers flex against your waist, forcibly swallowing down the growl building in his chest with an audible gulp.

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

You don’t say tomorrow morning. Not anymore. It’s too specific, too painful when it doesn’t come true.

“See you in the morning,” he echoes, and gently turns your head, sealing the vow with a kiss. It’s chaste, sweet, foreheads coming to rest against each other, savoring the moment even as the rain pelts your skin and clothes. “Go on, get inside and get warmed up. And no matter what you hear—”

“Don’t go outdoors,” you finish, pressing one last kiss against his jaw. 

xvi.

Joel starts to age again. It’s a slow, gradual process for his body to remember what it means to be human. He still heals unnaturally fast, still answers Death’s call whenever there’s a soul to collect, but - 

There are flecks of gray peppered in his beard. Along his temples. They turn silver when the light hits them just right. Never once does he make an effort to shave them off or dye them. 

He needs glasses when he reads. It shouldn’t be possible yet somehow the dark frames make him look even hotter, especially late at night when they’re perched on the brim of his nose as those perfect lips silently mouth along with the words of whatever genre-of-the-week has snagged his attention.

“Doesn’t it bother you?” you ask abruptly one morning. Joel’s in the middle of peeling oranges, making an attempt at adding more fruit to both your diets, and the kitchen air is oversaturated with citrus. “Dying?”

His hands pause, pensive lines creasing his forehead. It’s a sign he’s thinking hard about his answer, giving it the necessary time to form and develop. You wait, perched on the kitchen stool, pushing your toes against the floor to keep your leg from bouncing anxiously.

“I already died once, remember? This,” he says, gesturing towards his gray hairs and then at the house as a whole. “This isn’t dying, Sass. Not for me.”

You lean forward with your arms upon the counter. “What is it for you then?”

He looks at you for a long second, soft and fond, and smiles. “This is me finally living.”

xvii.

Loving Joel is easy, you learn. As natural as waking up with the morning sun, as necessary as drawing breath into the depths of your lungs. You don’t believe much in fate or destiny, but there are moments where he looks at you, like he can’t believe you’re the one who's real, and it feels like it’s always supposed to have been you and him. 

“Of all the churches in all the world,” you quietly laugh under your breath one night, head resting on his stomach. 

His hand stills in the middle of stroking a warm line down your spine. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you shift just enough to press a kiss against his sternum, smiling to yourself at the hitch of his breath. “Just thinking how lucky I am.”

Joel’s hand continues its movements again, but this time when it goes back up it carries on past your shoulder, pads of his fingers dipping into the teeth indentation marks there. 

And you know he’s thinking the same.

xviii.

Joel’s sliding home inside of you, all scorching heat and possessive growls, face buried against your neck. You wrap your arms tighter around his shoulders, nails cutting scratches deep into his skin, drawing blood. They’ll be gone before he’s done with you. Damn healing factor, a blessing and a curse.

“I want to be like you,” you murmur carelessly against the hinge of his jaw, mouthing a kiss that’s more tongue than lips.

“No,” Joel grunts, and then he’s moving back, pulling out of you. You whine, a pathetic and desperate high-pitched plea of an Omega trying to appease her Alpha, to call him back to fill the emptiness threatening to devour you alive. He ignores it, grabbing at your face with a large hand, forcing you to look at him, really look and fuck, you’ve never seen him like this before.

That emotion in his eyes, dark and gleaming and intense – it’s fear.

“You don’t want to be like me, Sass. You can never be like me,” Joel says, and he doesn’t even try to mask the tremble in his voice. “I won’t allow it.”

You reach a hand up, purposefully slow and obvious in its approach, and curl your fingers around his wrist. He loosens his hold instantly, exhaling a ragged, shuddering breath like you’ve stabbed him.

“Okay,” you say, and that’s all.

His face is wet when it buries against your neck again.

xix.

There’s a secluded house on the city outskirts, an unextraordinary two-story dwelling with a yellow front door and a stepping stone pathway, known to its pair of inhabitants simply as home. 

Most mornings you can be found in the front yard, humming a song from your youth while painting your next masterpiece. Joel will sit in the shade on the porch steps, coffee in hand, watching you watching the world. There are plans to build a greenhouse in the back, another hideaway to retreat to when the world feels just a bit too large. A bit too bloody.

xx.

“It’s going to hurt,” Joel warned you, six months after you’d first met, peppering kisses against your shoulder.

For as many strides as Nightspyre’s made keeping up with modern law changes and customs, out here amongst the untamable hills and freak electrical storms people remained convinced the best and safest life for an Omega was at an Alpha’s side.

Unclaimed Omegas didn’t last long in Nightspyre. If an Omega didn’t find a mate themselves, then one was found for them. Didn't matter if they didn't like each other, if their scents didn't match. Having an Alpha mate was an Omega's golden ticket to a better life - or, at the very least, a larger cage where the bars weren’t so easily seen.

“Not from you,” you panted, tilting your head to grant him more access. He was still an enigma to you, so many layers left to unwrap, but you knew there was no one else in the world you wanted more as your mate than him. No one else made you feel the way he did. “It won’t hurt if it’s from you.”

His hands pinned your arms down, making you gasp, and then - then there were sharp teeth slicing through skin, biting, claiming, intertwining your lives together irreversibly.

You were his. And he was yours.

[violetswritingg]

Thunderstruck

Tyler Owens x OFC!

Description: When cowgirl meets cowboy after a year of no-contact and chaos ensues during storm season!

Rating: M (Mentions of blood and death in Tornadoes and storms alike, angst and loss of loved ones, car accidents, Tornado aftermath, and injury to characters, slight age gap (5 years))

Want to read the other chapters?

Click here

3

May, 2024

Oklahoma

There was something about Oklahoma during storm season, the smell in the air, like the promise death and destruction but wrapped up in the sweet scent of rain. A spring in Tornado Alley was never gonna be a peaceful one and no one knew that better that two groups of people, the people who lived there and the people who were stupid enough to chase the storms.

Riley St. James had unintentionally fallen into the second category. She blamed her genetics. Having someone like Jo Harding and her dad in her life all but guaranteed she would end up here. The rest stop they had decided to stop to gas up at apparently had been a popular choice. Other teams, all varying levels of profession, camped out just waiting for a storm. Some faces she recognized others she didn't. There were a lot more new faces than before, for a multitude of reasons she didn't want to think about.

She was one of them, she had to admit that, her celebrity in the community and among the middle of America was pretty strong. She hated it.

"Hey! Everything okay? What's it looking like out there?" Sarah Mitchell, Riley's research partner and best friend asked, sidling up next to the blonde. "I wish I could see what you see, it's kind of freaky."

"I wish I couldn't." Riley chuckled, "If you want I can give it to ya."

"Nah, it's what makes you, you. I could never take that from ya, love ya too much." Sarah joked as she threw her arm around Riley's shoulder, pulling the girl into her side and off balance. "Besides I don't think anyone would be able to handle just how awesome I would be if I had my brains and your instincts. I would be unstoppable."

"So humble."

"I try to be, it's not easy. I'll tell ya that."

"I bet."

"But really, what's it looking like out there right now?" Sarah sobered up a bit and they both went into work mode. Talking about the cells forming in the west and the lone wolf to the east.

"Look, the one to the east isn't going to produce anything. It's just not. The cap is way too strong. I've seen it happen a million times, you get close, it's about to touch down but there's not enough updraft for it to touch down and it just poofs out of existence. Trust me. Not worth our time."

"So, we go west then."

"You bet'cha." Riley grinned, passing off her tablet to a passing undergrad with a thanks and looking over just in time to see Javi roll up, a blonde woman in his front seat. "I really wish they weren't here. We're gonna be battling it out that's for sure. Why is nothing ever easy?"

"Because then life wouldn't be worth living." Sarah shrugged with a bright grin, looking down at Riley and laughed at the blonde as she groaned and flopped her head onto the slightly taller woman's shoulder.

"But why does it have to be so hard then? Shouldn't there be like an easy mode or somethin'?" Riley kept going and Sarah was more than happy to play along.

"I don't think it works like that unfortunately. Heads up." Sarah stood up straighter and made herself look busy with Dororthy.

"Is that-" A soft voice started, startled as Riley turned and locked eyes with another blonde woman. Her drown doe eyes wide as they locked onto Dorothy.

"Dorothy 6, had her since I was 18, a present from my aunt for my first official chase as an adult." Riley grinned a bit, "I haven't seen you around here, what's your name?"

"Kate. Your aunt?"

"Jo Harding. Riley St. James. Nice to meet you Kate," Riley looked to Javi with a strange look, at least to Kate, "You enjoying your time with Storm Par?"

Kate was taken aback and left reeling.

"I've read all of your papers." Kate blurted, eyes going wide, her cheeks heating up. Looking at Riely like she was some kind of unearthly being. Like Riley was better than her and while Riley had gotten used to the admiration and awe people would usually hold in their eyes this was different. She shifted a bit and rolled her shoulders back.

"Thanks. Did you like them?"

"Most of them were crazy, in a good way," Kate quickly corrected, holding out a hand in front of her palm up to clear the air of any miscommunication, "I mean you must have gotten a couple grants, at least, big ones."

"I did. Thankfully the money hasn't run out just yet, even though it looks worse for wear Dorothy here is a trooper. So is the Warlock."

"I believe it, aren't the doors alone like-"

"800 pounds each, we have to use the hydraulics system to get them open." Riley chuckled, "Thankfully that's never gone out, not yet anyway."

"Don't speak that into existence! Why would you say that?!" Sarah snapped, slapping Riley's shoulder, the blonde feigning injury and laughing when Sarah glared. "Seriously not funny! You think I wanna suffocate int there when the air runs out?"

"Sorry, sorry, I take it back."

"Thank you." Sarah huffed and crossed her arms, looking much younger than her real age at this moment.

"Sorry about her, she used to be a theatre major before meteorology corrupted her." Riley waved her hand and Sarah balked with an offended look and put a hand on her chest.

"I'll have you know, I was a theatre major with a creative writing minor... Get it right, and you call yourself my best friend, for shame." Sarah just shook her head, disappointment painted across every feature until it slips just a bit and she starts to laugh and Riley starts to laugh, but then they both went shock still and stood up straight. Clearing their throats and Kate looked to Javi, the man looking back to her with a winced smile.

"Look Riley, I just wanted to introduce you to Kate, she's the smartest person I know other than you. And I thought you two might hit it off, work well together." Javi explained with a hopeful smile, as if she wasn't here with the Warlock and a small army of underpaid and definitely overworked undergrads who couldn't be happier to be here.

"I already told you no Javi, and if you can't tell, I kind of already have my own team. Can't exactly leave them without their fearless leader. Sarah wouldn't be able to handle all the pressure on her own. They need me." Riley shrugged, as if to say, 'nothing I could do.'

"Yes, yes we do." Sarah agreed, moving shoulder to shoulder with Riley and nodding.

"And the only person I work for Javi, is me." Kate was very confused with the look shared between Javi and Riley that held a thousand words all while giving nothing away.

"What are you working on right now?" Kate blurted out, quickly raising a hand to her mouth and apologizing under her breath. Riley just looked at her with an unreadable look, and Kate started to shift awkwardly.

"Unfortunately I can't tell you that, but keep your eyes peeled." Riley winked and Kate's cheeks turned a shade pinker, knowing how silly she looked. Probably like every other fangirl. It was embarrassing. She had always wanted to meet the Riley St. James, pick her brain, ask her a million questions. She's seen more tornadoes in person than probably anyone else alive right now and lived through an F5. Like her. and kept chasing, kept fighting.

The conversation was interrupted by music blaring.

Ain't no love in Oklahoma....

The red truck made Riley freeze, Sarah shooting her a questioning glance before looking back to the truck, more specifically to the mad standing on the raised ledge of the driver's side door. Leading the group in a very familiar chant.

"What was that?! If ya feel it!"

"Chase it!" The crowd roared back and then cheered when her held up his fist in celebration. Shirts had begun to be sold, other merch items and Riley wanted to smile. But the feeling in her stomach, seeing Tyler be so Tyler. In the year she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him, he had not changed a bit. It was comforting in a way. A constant she didn't know she needed in her life until he wasn't there.

It felt like there was a bull standing on her chest. Watching him smile and autograph literally anything. She had pre-done that, and left two very trustworthy undergrad manning the table where all of that was held. Last she checked they were already sold out of the signed t-shirts she had done.

"Who are they?" Kate asked, leaning into her hip and crossing her arms over her chest. Watching the spectacle in fascination.

"Chasers out of Arkansas." Javi answered while Riley couldn't take her eyes off the blonde man going through the dog and pony show for his audience. He always had been a crowd pleaser. Knew how to work a crowd.

"Hillbillies with a YouTube channel." Sarah scoffed, rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

"Takes one to know one." Riley smirked, doing her best to fight her demons privately.

"You know if you weren't my best friend and boss, I would so smack you right now." Sarah huffs and Riley's smirk grew into a small grin. One of the few that met her eyes. The dark cloud receding just a bit. "I'm just saying. That whole rig and he doesn't even use it to conduct research. What a waste." Sarah buckled down, tossing an arm in the tornado wrangler's direction. One of the undergrads she had working for her motioned Riley over to Dorothy and she frowned. Laying a hand on Sarah's wrist, looking to Kate and Javi, grin still in place, but it was a little dimmer.

"Okay, it was great to meet you Kate. Javi. If you'll excuse us, we're on the clock." She pulled Sarah with her as Javi called her name. She ignored him and took the tablet from the intern reading the information on the screen and sighing. Looking up at the sky while listening to him explain the readings Dorothy was giving were a little weird and they should probably look at the software.

"Sarah, that's you. Grab Isaac and John, work it out in the next fifteen minutes." Her eyes stayed transfixed where they were as she handed the tablet to Sarah, "We've gotta get moving. Daniel last check on the barrels, don't make it obvious, you know the drill. And tell Jenney she needs to do the final checks in the van before we head out."

"You got it boss." Daniel nodded and took off. Riley sighed and laid a hand on Dorothy.

"Don't give up on me yet girl. Just a couple more, and then we can retire you. I promise."

"I thought I told you just because you talk to it like it's real doesn't mean it is." Sarah looked up from the tablet slightly. Looking at Riley through her lashes before focusing on the numbers on the screen again.

Riley licked her lips before clicking her tongue, "And I thought I told you to go get Isaac and John to crunch the number and figure out what was wrong with our lovely Dorothy here. Don't worry Dorothy, Sarah is gonna go work with the very smart undergrads we have with us and make you all better, okay?" Riley baby talked the piece of technology before looking to Sarah with feign innocence. Batting her eyelashes behind her aviators, Sarah couldn't see it because of how dark the lenses were, but she knew, "We're running out of time, tick tock."

Sarah just chuckled and shook her head, doing as told but before fully leaving. She turned over her shoulder and whisper-shouted, "You know if I weren't mad at you right now, I would warn you about the hunky cowboy storm chaser coming over here right now like a man on a mission. But I am, so I won't." With that she turns on her heel and all but sprints to the van that held all their monitors and receivers. Being constantly monitored by three of the undergrads.

Riley doesn't need to look back to hear the click of his boots, the same ones he's worn since she got them for him on their six-month anniversary. The slight jingle of the spurs giving them away. She wasn't dealing with this right now. She looked around, purposefully not in Tyler's approaching position, looking for an escape. Seeing Kate standing off to the side, watching the woman crouch down to pick a dandelion.

Riley's head tilted to the side and a soft grin came across her lips as she took off.

"Rile-" Tyler's voice was taken by the wind as she was too far by the time he got to where she used to be.

"My dad taught me to do that. All the tech is nice but uh, sometimes the old ways are just better ya know?" Riley shrugged, the older woman still looking at her like she was a god among men. She would take the ego boost, but it was a little much. "Compare wind direction versus cloud movement. Get a feel for the sheer. Where are you from?"

"New York."

Riley took in her answer for a second, pulled down her aviators to the tip of her nose and looked at Kate up and down. The older woman shocked to see startingly blue eyes, brighter blue than what she thought was natural.

"New York, huh? Long way from home." Riley pulled her glasses back up and crossed her arms over her chest. Settling into her hip.

"Yep." Kate was internally screaming, telling herself to say anything, something intelligent maybe? Hopefully.

"What do you see?" Riley nodded to the sky. The darker blonde taking a couple steps forward, leaving Kate to watch her back. White, high collared tank top giving way to toned arms and shoulders hit heavy with sun. Stray hairs curling at the nape of her neck out of her ponytail, the tied-up strands getting shifted by the wind. Kate swallowed hard and took a breath before meeting Riley where she was at.

"Two cells in the west. One in the East which on radar has better numbers and has the sky all to herself and good shear. Plenty of instability." Kate held her breath, looking at Riley out of the corner of her eye, waiting.

"Nice. I saw that too, but..." Riley lolled her head to the side before turning to look to Kate, hands on her hips.

"Cap is way-"

"-Too strong. I agree." Riley finished and smirked when Kate smiled at her. A light shining way back there in the depth. "You're good." The veteran chaser whistled, laughing when Kate looked down at her feet, rocking back on her heels. "What made you stop?"

Kate's head snapped up and she froze.

"You avoiding me Riley? I'll admit, that kinda hurt my feelings." Riley, on instinct turned around. Big mistake. Tyler Owens was right there in front of her, seston hat her dad had gotten him for a birthday of his, anniversary boots, million-watt smile as he squinted in the sun down at her. 

~~*~~

A/N: Hello! I wanted to give you guys some chapters to read with this one, I know it's still in theaters and I have now seen it three times, will probably need to see it another three to finish what I have planned for this bad boy. SO, hold your caps, it's gonna be a wild ride. 

And I will get the chapters out as quickly as I can, I promise! (I wish I could put like a thumbs up emoji here - but I can't it lowkey makes me sad) 

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Picnic Dates, plus two - Dr James Wilson x peds!reader

Description: You've got a lunch date, but it's not with James.

word count: 1.8k

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN FOR PEDS!READER - request here

Y/n skipped down the halls of peds, smiling to herself. Each room she passed she waved to the patients inside. Holly, Trevor, Milton, Magnus, Bea, Molly, Jo, Josh. She knew all their names and knew how they should look, so that if anything was even slightly off she could spring into action.

She reached the last of the rooms on the hallway and pulled out a pink glitter file from her stack. Truthfully, she wasn’t allowed to decorate her patients files, but it turns out if you are not swamped with malpractice lawsuits and actually have a good bedside manner with your patients, Cuddy can be quite lenient.

“Hello y/n!” the little girl jumped up from her bed showing off her finding nemo pyjamas. Her blonde curls fell in front of her face, being batted away by her tiny hands.

“Good morning, Lisa! And how are you doing this fine day?”

“I good!”

“Can you give me anything more specific?” Y/n teased, raising her eyebrow.

“I feel really, really, really, really well!”

“I am so pleased to hear that Lisa. I am just going to do a quick examination, not that I don’t fully trust your own medical degree.” Lisa laughed and her parents lovingly looked at how happy their daughter seemed despite her condition. That was all down to y/n.

Lisa had become a regular of the hospital, brought in many times with asthma attacks so severe each trip to the hospital seemed to be a death sentence. Every time, y/n was there so Lisa could wake up to a familiar face. Stroking her hair and talking to her so she didn’t have to come to terms with her scary surroundings.

As y/n went to leave the room she was stopped by Lisa’s mum.

“Hi Dr y/l/n, I just wanted to say thank you.”

“It’s nothing, it’s my job.”

“No, it’s not. Examining her, diagnosing her, that’s your job. No one’s making you sing her songs or play her games. So…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Y/n left the room, her heart feeling just that bit warmer seeing that little girl babble to her parents about everything that was in her tiny head. She felt a presence next to her and her heart practically set on fire when her eyes met his.

“Hi.” It was soft, like she was sharing a secret.

“Hi. How’s Lisa doing?”

“She’s doing well, she’ll be home this afternoon. Just in time for SpongeBob.” Wilson raised an eyebrow. “Her favourite.”

“Now, remember last week when we went to that deli in the town over and you loved that sandwich. Well, I went to the shops and got all the ingredients and made us two of your sandwich with chips, coleslaw, and everything. My office, 12?”

A sorrowful look crossed her face, and she seemed to retreat into her mind.

“You have other plans—it’s fine, enjoy.”

“Believe me, that sounds amazing and usually I would love to but—I can’t.” Wilson nods but his gaze is on the floor. He shoved his hands in his pockets. She grasped his arms in a silent question that he is okay with this. He covered her hand with his own.

“I’m okay.” Despite feeling unsatisfied with his answer, she picked up her files and made her way down the corridor. Every few moments she turned back around to look at the oncologist who now was weakly kicking at the floor.

---

The door to House’s office slams open.

“At what point in each marriage did my wives start retreating from me.”

“Catherine of Aragon, 3 years, and 4 months. Boleyn, 2 years, and 11 months.”

Wilson falls down onto the chair in his friends office.

“Please don’t call my ex-wives that.”

“I’m a history buff, what can I say, Henry.” House smirks.

Ignoring the ill-placed humour, Wilson continues.

“My point remains that they were all after a lengthy period of time—”

“And/or directly after you cheated.” He looks towards House’s smug face, disapprovingly.

“But neither of them were after 2 months.”

“Trouble in peds, oh I’m sorry paradise.”

“I don’t really know. It just feels like she doesn’t want to spend time with me.”

“Well, she is a paediatrician, so every day she meets people more emotionally mature than you.”

“Ha ha. Just today she blew me off for lunch, and, thinking about it we haven’t had lunch together at the office in a week. What if she’s pulling away? What if she doesn’t love me anymore?”

“What if she’s busy?” House still refused to look up from his Gameboy.

“She’s not, I checked. She just has 10 patients she’s monitoring, none of which are severe.”

House paused his game. “You checked her files? I’m rubbing off on you. Boy wonder oncologist, we may have found your bad bone yet. Maybe we should get a noun to replace your last name as well.”

“I’m going to confront her.” Wilson abruptly stood up and opened the door.

“The word you’re looking for is communicate.” Wilson went to leave. “WAIT! Wilson-“ House picked up the phone “It’s for you. It’s God. He say’s you’re bad at relationships.”

Wilson angrily left the room and slammed the door which echoed with the cackles of his best friend.

---

Y/n opened the door to leave her office, armed with a pasta salad and an iced coffee.

“Do you want to break up?”

Y/n was startled by her flustered boyfriend who had jumped out in front of her.

“What? No! Why would you think that? I love you of course I don’t want to leave you.” She reached up to cup his cheek and used her thumb to stroke under his eyes.

“I can’t believe you were thinking that! I can’t believe I made you think that! Oh, baby I’m so sorry.” After her rambling she threw her arms around his neck, ladening his neck with so many kisses as way of apology. Wilson chuckled before completing the hug and squeezing her waist.

She pulled back from the hug.

“Why did you think I wanted to leave you?”

“Well, lunch. You didn’t want to, again, and we haven’t had lunch together in about a week. And in all my past relationships, there comes a time when they start to retreat,” He scratched the back of his neck “I just thought it had come sooner than usual.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, I couldn’t.”

She bit her lip and tried to find the right words before blurting out. “I’m seeing a 12-year-old.”

Wilson simply couldn’t find the words.

“Please—”

“Oh, not like that. Come with me.” She took his arm and began to lead him to the elevator.

---

They stood in front of the window that showed a boy, small for his age, curled up on the hospital bed playing with two power rangers. His room was devoid of balloons, toys, cards: the decorations that covered every other peds room.

“That’s Lucas. He came in last week with pneumonia. He’s on antibiotics and he’s improving. His dad died when he was 2 and his mum works constantly to make enough money. She can’t visit him a lot, she only managed 2 visits last week. He’s never even left his house. And now he only knows two things: he’s sick and he’s alone. This hospital can look like a big scary place when you’re a kid so –”

“So, you eat lunch with him every day so he has at least one visitor.” Her boyfriend finishes her sentence flawlessly.

“I’ll bet you even tell him that you choose to be with him, probably say that all the other doctors are boring.” She laughs at how well he knows her. She steps back from the window and pushes open the door.

“Lucas, there is someone very special I want you to meet. This is Dr Wilson.”

Lucas perks up at seeing, not only his favourite doctor, but also another boy enter the room.

“Is he your friend, Dr y/l/n?”

“Yes, he is, he’s my special friend.”

“Mummy always said Daddy was her best friend. Do you love him like my mummy loved my daddy.”

“Observant kid.” Wilson quietly remarks.

“What do you have for lunch today, Dr y/l/n?”

Y/n sits down on Lucas’ bed. “Actually, Lucas, today Dr Wilson and I have—"

“Have to tell you that I took over Dr y/l/n’s clinic hours so she can have 3 more hours to spend with you. She’s been nagging me to have more time with you for weeks!” He rolls his eyes jokingly. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

She turns away from Lucas to mouth ‘Thank you’ towards him. In return he waves as if to say see you later.

---

the next day

“I have the tickets, Thursday night!” House limped down the hallway flanked by his exasperated friend.

“Can’t.”

“Liar. Your girlfriend’s ignoring you so unless you’ve already found the next next potential Mrs Wilson, you’re free!”

“Actually, we –”

“Boys!”

Y/n slid into the two’s line of vision. Her pink scrubs not as cheery as her smile. Wilson quickly checked his watch.

“y/n/n, baby, isn’t Lucas waiting.”

“Who’s Lucas? You guys open now?”

“Actually, he gave me a message to give to you two. He told me to invite to lunch, and I quote, ‘your boyfriend and the mean cane guy he’s always with’”.

Wilson beams at how chipper his girlfriend seems at this news.

“Wait, both of us? You two into foursomes now? I mean I respect it.”

Rolling her eyes at House’s comment. She grabs the two by their arms and drags them to the ‘lunch’ room. They stop in the doorway, seeing Lucas who was looking into a gigantic bag of food but who quickly retreated sheepishly when he was caught.

“I retract my previous joke.” House looks down, embarrassed. He goes to approach the boy but is halted by a pressure on his ear as it was held by the smiling paediatrician. She yanks him back to her and harshly whispers “Be. Nice!”.

“Yes ma’am.” Happy with this response, she releases him. She then turns towards her boyfriend. “I even managed to get an order in from that deli. Do you like it?” she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

“Yes. Very much so.”

She skips towards Lucas but is brought back by Wilson’s hands on her waist. They turn so they are nose to nose.

“I love you.” “I love you too.”

Before their lips could touch they are interrupted.

“Ew gross!” they glare towards the bed to see that the juvenile remarks are not coming from the 12-year-old but rather the overgrown 8 year old.

---

The four ate lunch and talked and each managed to bring back a little joy for the bed ridden child. Even House slowly warmed and began to care for the boy. Every so often y/n would get up to check his stats but also to fluff his pillows, bring him his toys and juice. She cared so deeply and wanted every child who passed through her care to feel special and heard.

Wilson sat back and watched the scene unfold, happy to be an observer. And as he watched the woman, he loved be a mother for a child who wasn’t even her own, he couldn’t help but imagine her with their own.

—-

Props to anyone who spots the joke about one of Robert Sean Leonard’s other films ;)

[fanaticsnail]

Tobiuo and the Moustached Man

@thenotsofantasticlifestory 's Kiki decided to bring her partner, Law, home to meet her family. Tobiuo comes up to the house from the Tang with some documents for Law to sign, and became immediately transfixed on Jo's beautiful moustache. She is in love with that old man, and it shows.

She loves that old man almost as much as I do.

Mini fic below the cut because I love them:

Characters featured: Kiki, Jo, Law, Hank, Finn, Tobiuo

Kiki has asked the Polar Tang to take her and Law home to Pucci to meet her adoptive dad, Jo, and one of her younger brothers, Hank. Law has done his absolute best in attempting to meet the expectations of Jo, but so far he has not been able to crack the hard shell. He wants to bad to make a good impression, but his past title as warlord and surgeon of death has held him back.

Up from the Tang, with a report on personale, strolls Tobiuo who needs a write off for permission to go on leave after Pucci. Knocking three times, she waits patiently for the door to open in Kiki's childhood home.

Darting her eyes down, she is met with the steely gaze of Jo: sat in his wheelchair, a beer clasped in his hand. While Tobiuo can't speak, her eyes are immediately drawn to his impressive moustache and her jaw slacks.

Her people can't grow moustaches, and Jo's moustache was glorious.

Pocketing her paper, she attempts to flutter sign through shuddering stutters, but shakes her head to steady her thoughts. Opting rather to tap her knuckles on the door, she asks him in Morse: "Is my boss and my friend Kiki at this residence? Have I come to the correct house?"

Hearing the Morse tapping, Kiki comes to the door and stands behind a now smiling Jo. As their gaze holds with one another, Kiki's eyes widen and dart hastily between them.

"Jo, this is Tobiuo, Law's chief of security. Iyo, this is my, uh... Dad, Jo," she shifts her hands, fluttering in the sign she knows, "Have you got the hots for my dad, Iyo?"

Tobiuo sucks in her lips, biting back her broad, toothy grin, and nods her head.

"Well aren't you the prettiest thing I ever did see," Jo's whisky-smooth voice croons up at her, "Your name is Tobiuo? Pleasure to meet you."

"Pleasures mine, sir," Tobiuo's hands signal, offering a polite bow with her hand over her chest. Jo hums in approval, turning to Kiki and elbowing her in the thigh.

"Well? Invite her in and get her a drink, would you, Ki?" Jo chuckles. Moving his chair in reverse, he gestures for Tobiuo to come into the home. Following his motion, Tobiuo crosses the threshold with a soft smile donned on her features.

Once Tobiuo is out of sight and looking for her boss, Jo turns to Kiki and widens his eyes with a large smile beneath his moustache.

"She works for Law?" He gasps in disbelief, "How the hell did that scrawny noodle end up with such a glorious woman? And she's the security officer, you say?"

"Don't. Even. Think. About. It," Kiki articulates every word like a knife chipping away at solid ice, "She's my friend, and she's not interested in old men like you."

"How would you know? She's never met an old man like me," Jo chuckles once more, moving past Kiki towards the dining room, "Tell Hank to get out here. He's gonna want to meet a Fishwoman. She looks like she's from the Deep Blue, too." Humming in contemplation, Jo shakes his head and continues on his way. Muttering a final sentence to himself, he shakes his head once more with a short huffed laugh.

"If only the boys could see me now. What a day. What a beautiful day."

Sitting around the lengthy wooden dining table was an array of individuals Kiki had never in her life dreamed of ever meeting. Sure, she wanted Jo and Hank to meet Law at some stage: introduce him as her partner and have him assimilate into her unconventional family unit the way he embraced her into his own. She loved him, he loved her, all she wanted now is for her family to love him too.

What she didn't anticipate was Tobiuo also being present at the table.

"When you swim, do you have to remove your uniform to cut through the ocean quicker? Does the suit weigh you down? What about your boots? Do you have to remove them too-?" Hank continued to flutter out an array of questions: one more unhinged than the last, "-Hang on, are your toes webbed too? I know your ears are, and your hands - but what about your toes? And your ears, are they just used for swimming and a flap to guard holes beside your head, or is the hole at the centre like a human-?"

"-Hank, please," Kiki managed to cut through his invasive questions, bringing the teenager's attention back onto herself, "You haven't given her enough time to respond to the first one, let alone the next. Just take a breath." Kiki turns to Tobiuo, displaying her sorrowful apologies on her features, "Iyo, I'm so sorry. He's never met fishfolk before. You don't have to answer anything if you don't want to."

Tobiuo offers her a tight-lipped smile, reaching into her boiler suit and fishing out her led pencil and her note paper.

Law is breathing a fair amount easier than he initially did beneath the intense scrutiny of Kiki's father, Jo. While he wanted to make a good impression on the retired pirate, nothing seemed to work in his favour. None of his feats felt up to par, including his former status of warlord. Hell, his past with the Donquixote Pirates also held him back, Doflamingo not being the most reputable individual in the first place.

Law spending time under Doflamingo in any capacity seemed to set him back further in Jo's eyes, regardless as to the outcome of Dressrosa.

Having Tobiuo take a lot of the heat from Hank and Jo in regards to their attention and intense line of questions had him breathe a little easier. Tobiuo just had a knack of rescuing Law from a lot of events: often in the brutality of battle.

Law darted his attention between Hank and Tobiuo, watching as the tall Fishwoman began etching notes on her paper with a soft smile on her blue lips. Drawing his eyes over to the older Jo, Law stifled a chuckle that wanted to flee from his throat at the look in the pirate's eyes.

Jo looked as if a childhood fairytale had plopped themselves down at the kitchen table: the whimsical look of innocence over his worn features. There was a soft glint in his eye that seemed to reflect a lot of the emotions Law, himself, felt the first time he met Tobiuo. She was a creature many would not have the opportunity to interact with, her species incredibly shy and closed off to the outsides. If Law had never met Tobiuo, he would've thought the Deep Blue was a land of myth - akin to the All Blue.

Jo was enchanted.

As he rose his bottle to his lips, he never for a moment took his attention away from the navy-skinned woman at the end of the table in fear she would disappear. There she was, a creature he had always wanted to encounter: sitting across from his boy, beside his girl, eating dinner they had lovingly prepared for family night. He had never seen a Fishwoman like her before, and wanted to carve a visual memory of her deep into the recesses of his mind. He was enamored with her.

Placing down her pencil, Tobiuo rose her milky eyes up to Hank and passed him the note paper. Offering him a few gestures he had no frame of reference to understand, Kiki offered to translate for her.

"She's saying these are the answers you're looking for," Kiki giggled, reaching over the table and bringing a scoop of vegetables towards her own plate, "While she can't answer a lot of personal ones due to her hazy memory, she has done her best for you."

"W-What-?" Hank asked, his eyes widening as he goes over the notes, "This-... This is-... This is amazing! I just-... I can't."

Jo chuckles, placing down his empty bottle and leaning forward to gather a tongue of barbecued meats. Placing some on his own plate, he offered out a scoop of the rich, fried morsels towards the Fishwoman.

"Would you like some more, sweetheart?" Jo offered with a kindness in his eyes. Kiki raised her eyebrow, but elected to say nothing at this stage. Tobiuo shook her head slowly, turning to Law and making a few small gestures with her hands.

"No, I don't think so," Law shrugs in response, "It'll be up to Bepo. He's in charge while I'm here." Tobiuo nods at first, offering a few more gestures to her boss who nods along.

Kiki draws her eyes over to Jo, gently kicks his wheelchair with her foot to gain his attention. Shielding her mouth with her hand, she wordlessly chastises him while Tobiuo and Law are distracted.

"Stop flirting with her. It's creeping me out, old man," Kiki mocks a frown, her smile attempting to rise behind her pout. Jo leans forward, cupping his own mouth and mouthing back to her.

"I'm being polite, you brat," he darts his eyes between hers, "If you want to see me really flirt, I have no quarry with doing so in front of you and your frail fishbone of a partner."

Kiki couldn't help but laugh, leaning back in her seat with Law tucking her in the crook of his shoulder, and bracing her against himself.

"If you'd rather take your leave on Pucci, I won't stop you," Law shrugs at Tobiuo, who continued to gesture to him with her eyes depicting a far few more emotions to emphasise her actions. Law chuckled, shaking his head and waving off her concerns.

"Look, I'm happy if you are, chief. If you'd rather have Bepo in charge without both me and you, I'm not gonna stop you," Law chuckled. Tobiuo rolled her pale eyes, shaking her head with a smile on her lips. Before she managed to say anything back, Hank interjected with a passionate gasp.

"-So you can speak under water?!" He excitedly shrieked in glee, "What about a drink of water? Like if we pour it in your gills and you have a go at talking? Can we do that? Here-!" He placed the paper back in her hands, tapping the table and gesturing for her to take up her pen.

Tobiuo's chest flutters up and down as if she was laughing, picking up the pen and scribbling hastily.

"I don't know, I've never tried. It might be messy."

"We'll go outside! C'mon. You don't mind, do you, old man?" Hank already began rising to his feet to stand, "We'll be back in a second."

Hank reached for the water jug, clasping it in his hand before lacing his arm in the crook of Tobiuo's elbow. Tobiuo rose to her feet, gesturing to Kiki her apologies before bowing politely to Jo. The giddiness rising in her chest about attempting something unhinged with her anatomy was thrilling. She was excited by Hank's excitement.

Racing to the door, Tobiuo reached for the handle and gave the door a quick tug, only for her eyes to be met with a pale, balled fist at the door.

"Uh-..." a voice called behind the raised arm, slowly dropping it to their side, "Is... Is Jo home-?"

"-Finn!" Hank excitedly yelled from beside Tobiuo, unlacing his hand and thrusting his arms around his older brother. Water sloshed from the jug, dampening the pale overcoat of Finn's uniform.

"Hey, Hank," the taller man managed to chuckle, throwing his arms around his shoulders and drawing him into himself further, "Missed you, bud. Uh-... I take it if you're here, officer, your boss isn't far behind."

Tobiuo narrowed her eyes and folded her arms over her chest. The last time Finn and Tobiuo met, Finn was locked in an intense fistfight with his older sister. Tobiuo was not going to let this marine attempt anything on her boss now he was not protected beneath the world government's title of warlord.

Unlacing his arms from over Hank's shoulders, he held up his hands defensively beside him in a bid to set her at ease.

"Look, I'm just here to see my family. I promise I'm not going to do anything to your boss," he swore, his voice void of dishonesty, "If I was going to do anything, I would've brought my unit with me, and your vessel would be sunk by now."

Tobiuo unlaced her arms, placing her fist on the door and aggressively knocking in marine code.

"If you'd have attempted anything on the Tang, my boss, or my crew, I would've played a game with you as to who could hold their breath the longest beneath the water," Tobiuo narrows her eyes, glaring at the man with a rage within her eyes, "Each time you would think I'm bringing you up to take a reprieve, I'd pull you back under and laugh as you struggle to stay awake."

"Then let us be thankful that we are here in a brief ceasefire," Finn nodded, taking Tobiuo's word as law, "And I am also thankful that my younger brother is yet to learn code. You are truly a vicious Fishwoman, officer."

"And you are a horrible human, Marine," Tobiuo smirked back, stepping aside and letting Finn pass within the threshold.

Just as he brushed his shoulder with hers, Tobiuo hastily grabbed his upper arm and bore her milky eyes between his. Finn sighed, hanging his head and giving a few soft nods in understanding.

"I'm not going to hurt your boss, or my sister. This I swear to you, on my honour as a marine," Finn attempted to pull away from her grip, but Tobiuo held on a little firmer, her lips curling back and revealing a few sharpened teeth.

"Not as a marine," Finn rose his eyes to meet with hers, "As a brother. I swear to you, pirate. As a brother, and as a son, I will not hurt your captain, or alert the marines where your vessel is located."

"Her name is Tobiuo, Finn," Hank offered quietly, "Not pirate, not officer. Tobiuo. And she's cool."

Finn chuckled, feeling Tobiuo loosen her grip on his arm. She nods at him slowly, her hand being caught on its descent by Finn's. Slowly raising it in front of him, he gripped her hand in a gesture of mutual understanding, shaking it to solidify his honour.

"Tobiuo," he whispered with a soft smile. Releasing her hand, Tobiuo offers him a tight-lipped smile and fluttering a sign to him with a nod.

Brushing past one another, Tobiuo's warmth returns to her as she throws her arm around the teenage Hank and ruffles his hair.

"What did your sign mean?" He asked, unlacing himself from beneath her arms. He repeats the gesture she extended towards Finn earlier, "This one. What is that?"

Tobiuo brings her note paper up and scribbles: "His name."

"So, just the letters? F-I-N-N?" Hank arches his eyebrows at her. Tobiuo shakes her head, jotting down a couple of sentences.

"I offer sign names based on how I see an individual. My captain is "boss", your sister is "bloom" or "blossom". Your brother, Finn, is "pig". More technically, "piglet"."

Hank burst out laughing, the water in the jug sloshing over the sides of the rim as he clutches his stomach. Catching his breath, he asks, "What about me? What am I? Do I get a cool name?"

Tobiuo ponders for a moment, her eyes darting between his, before reaching up to her face and circling a hooked hand over her temple: rotating it in a clockwise motion. Gesturing for Hank to do the same, he raises his hand up and rolls his digit at his temple.

"What does this mean? What am I to you?" Hank asks with a broad grin. Tobiuo mimics his smile, reaching for her paper and scribbling a few etchings on the sheet.

"Curious. You are 'curious' to me. Now, let's go and drown my gills to see if I can talk above water. This is gonna be messy."

Hank beams at the Fishwoman, hurriedly stepping off the porch and towards the grassy area and indicating for Tobiuo to follow.

"Alright, Iyo," he indicates for her to roll her head on the side, "Lay like this, and I'm gonna drench your face and neck in water. Talk if you can!"

Tobiuo offers Hank a lazy two fingered salute, doing as the teenager asked and prepared herself to receive a large amount of water over her face and neck.

[vivwritesfics]

Bleeding From The Storm

Chapter Five - Lilac

After the death of his son, the head of the Dupont family wants his daughter protected. He moved her to Monaco, the safe zone, and has her protected by Charles Leclerc. Max Verstappen was never supposed to meet her. He didn't even know who she was. But he knew she was beautiful, and he knew he wanted to know more, much to the horror of Charles Leclerc.

1.2K

Warnings: hints of smut, talks of death and murder

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The Dupont's weren't in the Netherlands for very long, just a week. But Max was determined to make every second with her count.

The broom closet was potentially the most unforgettable moment of Max's life. When their father's finished the meeting and Max was called back to Jos's side. It was incredibly difficult for him to concentrate on anything with a lacy, lilac underwear in his pocket.

It was easy to convince Jos to let him spend more time with her. All Max had to do was tell his father that his spending time with her and being nice to her was manipulation tactics, and Jos agreed. Max said things to his father, things that made him sick to his stomach. He knew Bunny wasn't stupid and pliable, but those words had Jos agreeing.

Max had never been the type to take a girl out for lunch or dinner. In his line of work it was easier to just sleep with them and move on. But not Bunny. He couldn't get her out of his head if he tried.

It didn't help that she looked so pretty sat across from him, sundress covered in pretty blue flowers, as she sipped her drink. She'd been saying something, but Max didn't know what, too busy admiring her to listen.

She looked at him like she was expecting an answer. "Sorry, Angel," he said, shaking himself out of it. "I was a little distracted."

He'd been staring at her the entire time, she knew. Her smile was wide, shy embarrassment written on her face as she looked down at her near empty drink. "I asked when you're coming back to Monaco," she said, using her straw to stir the drink.

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when he thought. "I don't know, Angel," he answered. Angel, never Bunny. She loved it, loved the way her insides squirmed every time the name left his lips.

"Are you gonna tell me when you're back?" She asked.

Max's heart jumped, ready to leap out of his chest. She wanted him around for more than just her short stay in the Netherlands. He knew he had to get back to Monaco as soon as possible.

"Angel, I promise," he began. As soon as I'm back in Monaco, I'll come see you," he said, hand reaching across the table. He didn't know what he expected, maybe for her to place her hand in his. Not for her to start running her nails across his skin in such a soothing manner.

A shiver ran down his spine. It was a mixture of soothing and ticklish. He sucked in a breath as he turned his hand over and she began tracing patterns along the back of it. "When you come to Monaco, we'll have to do something fun," she mused. "Plus, you'll have to return my underwear to me at some point."

His eyes damn near bulged out of their sockets at that. "Holy shit, Angel," he croaked out. He checked the time on his watch, only to distract himself. But then he found himself releasing a sigh and a small 'Fuck'.

Her nails stopped moving against his palm. "What is it?" She asked.

Max closed his hand around her fingers. "I've got to get you back," he mumbled and stood, pulling her up with him. "You're going back to Monaco tonight, right?" Max asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Yeah," Bunny mumbled, a pout on her pretty lips. "Are you sure we have to go now?" She asked and Max nodded his head.

Lacing her fingers through his own, she allowed herself to be pulled away from the Café max had taken for to for lunch. In that moment she wasn't Bunny, she decided. No, she was Angel.

They passed a secluded little alleyway. It wasn't pretty, not by any means, full of rubbish bins and overflowing with trash. The smell as they passed was atrocious.

But still, she gripped his hand and pulled him into the alleyway. "Angel," Max said, catching her before she could flatten herself and her pretty white and blue sundress against the dirty wall. "What are you doing?"

Her hands were around his neck as she looked up at him, giving what Max could only describe as puppy dog eyes. "I don't want to say goodbye yet," she whispered and pulled him closer.

Max let his eyes drift shut. If his Angel was kissing him, he wasn't going to complain. He just pulled her against him, keeping her flush against his body. Max knew he was giving everything over to her, but he didn't much mind.

She moved away from his lips, kissing across his jaw and down to his neck. "Fuck me," she said breathlessly. "Fuck me right here, against this wall."

But Max shook his head as he pressed his forehead to her own. "I'm not gonna fuck you in this dirty alleyway," he said and checked his watched. "Besides, I've got to get you back."

He grabbed her hand once again, but this time her pout was unmissable. It took everything Max had not to give into her. "I'm sorry, Angel," he said as they approached the Verstappen stronghold. "I promise to make it up to do in Monaco."

She let go of his hand, but for no other reason than to protect Max and herself. Them being together, it was impossible, forbidden. If Dupont found out what the daughter he'd been trying so hard to protect had been doing? It would have started an all out war.

Max was silent as he led her to his fathers office. He knocked and waited for confirmation before leading her inside. Max stood himself by the window while Angel, his Angel, went to stand by her father.

"Dupont," said Jos as he looked over at the signature on the paperwork. "I trust the shipment will arrive in the next two weeks."

"Verstappen, you have my word," said Dupont, his hand coming to rest on his daughters back. She stood straighter, but her gaze was still focused on the ground.

No more pleasantries were exchanged as Dupont and Angel were led from the office. Jos waited just long enough for them to be out of earshot before he opened his vile mouth.

"She was was delectable," he said in Dutch, and Max clenched his fists by his side. "Much more pleasant to look at than that old crone Dupont would insist on bringing everywhere he went."

If it had been anybody else talking about his Angel like that, Max would have lost it and pummelled his face beyond recognition. But he kept himself composed. "What about the business?"

"She is Dupont's only living heir, and yet she seems incapable," Jos said, ignoring Max's question. "As soon as she takes over from him, Dupont and everything he has will be ours. I've always wanted to own part of France," Jos said more to himself than anybody else.

Max's mouth went dry. He said her name. Not Angel, not Bunny, but her name. "What happens to her once you've... gotten what you want?"

Jos laughed a dry sort of laugh. "Max," he said with a shake of his head. "She'll be dead."

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The Widow - Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader (eventual)

Warnings: fluff, first date, kissing, angst, tears, language

Words: 3,236

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The leaves are starting to change colour now, you notice as you walk through the park on your way to have lunch with Dean. The year has seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye, and it surprises you to think it’s been so long since Sam died. Christmas, Sam’s birthday and your wedding anniversary were tough days, but you got through them. The next big hurdle will be the anniversary of his death, but you’ll handle that as you’d handled everything so far, taking it a day at a time – or hour at a time, if you needed to.

Thursday has quickly become your favourite day. Dean insisted on these weekly lunches to check in and keep an eye on you. At first, you hated them, assuming he felt some kind of obligation to look after you, or because he didn’t think you could look after yourself. When the grief had lessened and you began to feel more like yourself again, you realised how wrong you were.

Yeah, he asked how you were doing and if you were taking care of yourself, but then the conversation would quickly become about work and how your week had been, and he had a genuine interest in you and your life. Whenever you smiled, his face would light up like a Christmas tree, and when you laughed (particularly if he’d been the one to make you do it), he would grin so wide you feared his cheeks would hurt.

In turn, you became somewhat of a confidante for Dean too. He’d opened up to you about his plans for the family business when John finally decided to hang his coveralls up. He wanted to expand and open another shop across town. He wanted to take in troubled kids and train them on how to be mechanics. He has such a big heart, and it didn’t surprise you that he wants to save kids from taking the wrong path. What was more of a shock, was Dean asking you to help him make it happen. Before you’d even opened your mouth to protest, he cut you off with a firm voice: “I know what you’re going to say, and it’s bull. You’re a part of this family, Y/N. Maybe not by blood, but you are a Winchester. Besides, family don’t end with blood, or even a name, sweetheart.”

It was then you knew the weekly lunches weren’t just to look after “Sammy’s girl” and Dean genuinely did care for you and considered you his family. It was humbling, and it helped you to heal because you’d been worried John and Dean would lose patience with you and eventually stop checking in or inviting you to Sunday dinner. The fact that Dean asked you to join the family business to oversee the expansion, even though you’d yet to give him an answer, meant the world to you.

The Impala is already in the car park when you arrive at the Roadhouse and as you pass her, you ghost your fingers over her hood in a wordless greeting before heading into the restaurant. Walking into the building, you smirk as you see Jo twirling her hair around her fingers and giggling at Dean who has a patient smile on his face, but his bouncing knee gives away how uncomfortable he is with the unwanted flirtation.

“Hey, Jo!” You smile at the blonde, and see Dean’s shoulders drop as he visibly exhales at your timely arrival. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks! Can I get you your usual drink?” The waitress asks.

“Please,” you answer as you slide into the seat across from Dean.

“Oh, and Gordon’s special today is chicken parm,” Jo grins at you, knowing it’s your favourite.

“You know me too well!” You laugh.

“Dean?” The blonde bats her lashes at him.

“A bacon cheeseburger with extra fries. She always steals mine,” he points at you with a smirk and you chuckle softly.

“Alright, I’ll go get those drinks and put your order through. If you need anything else, just shout,” with one last flip of her hair, Jo sashays away with an exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Are you ever going to tell her you’re not interested?” You smirk at Dean as he scratches the back of his neck.

“What? She’s not interested in me,” Dean protests and you laugh loudly.

“Oh, come on! It is so obvious she’s into you! And here I thought you were Lawrence’s answer to Casanova!” you cackle.

“Yeah, well… people change,” Dean defends weakly. “I haven’t done any of that since the night Sam died, you know that.”

“Still?” You try so hard not to show your shock, but according to Dean’s bitch face, you fail miserably. “I’m sorry, that was rude. And absolutely none of my business,” you backtrack, and relax as you see Dean’s jaw unclench and his shoulders lower.

“It’s just…” he trails off and takes a deep breath. “It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just… the last time I went home with someone from a bar, my brother was killed.”

“I get it, Dean. You don’t need to explain to me,” you smile softly, and the conversation dies away as Jo sets down your drinks.

“So, what about you?” Dean asks almost shyly once Jo has left again.

“What about me?” You frown, before taking a sip of your beverage.

“The guy from work that keeps flirting with you. Have you asked him out yet?”

“Okay, first of all, he’s not flirting with me, he knows that I lost my husband and he's just being friendly…”

“Ha!” Dean scoffs, “friendly my ass! He wants to see your ass, if you know what I mean!” He pumps his eyebrows lewdly at you. 

“Second,” you say ignoring him completely, “even if he was flirting with me, I don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I said ask the guy out,” Dean says softly. “Dress up, have a night out on the town, have a little fun. No one’s saying you need to marry the guy.”

“I just don’t think it’s the right time. And I don’t even know if it’s something I want again,” you admit.

“What? Y/N, come on sweetheart. You can’t seriously think you’re never gonna fall in love again, do you?” Dean doesn’t even glance at Jo as she puts his plate in front of him, he just stares at you in disbelief.

“All I know right now is that I’m still in love with Sam,” you shrug and twirl spaghetti around your fork.

“And you always will be. Whether we’re talking next week, next year, or next decade, you will always love him. But it doesn’t mean you won’t fall in love with someone else at some point. Look, I’m not trying to force you into anything you don’t wanna do, alright? I just thought it might be nice for you to be wined and dined by someone other than me for a change!” He winked at you and bit into his burger, humming in approval at the taste.

“Oh, so you’re fed up with me, is that it?” You smirk. “Trying to palm me off, make me someone else’s problem?”

“Never,” Dean reassures you, even though he knows you’re messing with him. “I just don’t want to be sitting here with you in ten years and you regret not taking a second chance at love, a family… a happy life. You have a big and pure heart, and it holds too much love for you not to share it.” 

You smile at his compliment and ponder over what Dean said, both of you falling silent and enjoying your meal.

Dean’s words had no real effect on you until a few weeks later when you went for birthday drinks for someone in the office. That’s when you noticed that Jacob was indeed flirting with you.

You don’t know if it was flattery or the wine or even the two tequila shots you’d had when you first got to the bar, but here you are a week later, on a date you aren’t completely convinced you want to be on with the first guy who’s shown you that kind of attention since Sam.

Jacob is a nice guy. He’s handsome, charming, caring, and funny. He’s doing all the right things; things Sam would’ve done on a date like holding doors open for you, and pulling your chair out for you at the restaurant. He even stood from the table when you went to the restroom.

He’s made you laugh and listened intently to what you said, and his subtle flirtations have made you feel like a woman again. You’ve felt desirable and pretty and it’s felt so good to feel those things again. You feel good.

He’s even been considerate enough to ask a few times how you’re holding up with this being your first date since Sam had died. He hasn’t put a foot wrong, and you know this is what most people would call the perfect date with the perfect guy, but something’s missing and you can’t quite figure out what.

And that’s what’s led you to be standing with him at your front door. You know for sure you aren’t going to invite him into your home, but you also felt like you needed the extra time to try and figure out exactly how you feel about him. You’re both running out of reasons to stay out in the chill of the night, and you know figuring out what’s going on will need to wait.

“I had a nice time, Jacob,” you smile as you play with the keys in your hand. “Thank you for being so kind and patient with me.”

“I think it’s me who should be thanking you for letting me take you out tonight. I can’t imagine how difficult this must’ve been for you,” Jacob smiles softly and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear as he takes a step closer. “I know this might be too soon, but I have to ask. Can I kiss you?”

You stare at him for a moment, not sure what to say. A million things are running through your mind all at once, and it’s hard to pick out just one to focus on. Suddenly, your mind clears and all you can think about is how much fun you’ve had tonight. And it’s just a kiss, right? And with a handsome man no less. So, you nod your head, making Jacob smile wide, showing perfect teeth before quickly swiping his tongue over his lips and leaning towards you.

He’s respectful, only gently placing his hands on your waist as his lips touch yours and it’s… different. It’s not awful by any means, just strange. His lips are a little dry and chapped, despite his efforts to soften them with his tongue, and his hands seem to be too hesitant on your hips. When his tongue swipes at your lips, you open your mouth inviting him in. Almost immediately, your eyes fly open and you realise you feel absolutely nothing, and that maybe you’re not ready for this after all.

Or maybe, you panic, whatever part of you that can love had left when Sam did.

You pull away and try to remain calm. The last thing you need is to freak the guy out, or freak yourself out even more. It’s been months since you last had a panic attack and now is not the time or place.

“I should go,” you manage to smile at him. “It’s late and cold, but I really did have a lovely night.” You have no idea how you say it without your voice shaking or tears filling your eyes, but you do and you’ll take that small victory right now.

“Me too. Maybe we could do this again soon?” He asks and your heart twists at the hopefulness in his voice, and you can’t bring yourself to tell him it isn’t a good idea.

“Maybe,” you smile. “Goodnight.” You turn and quickly unlock the door, smiling at him one last time as you turn to close it behind you.

Flicking the lights on, you make your way to the kitchen, open the fridge and pull a bottle of cold water out. Ripping the plastic cap off you take a few large gulps, hoping the coolness will help calm down your racing heart.

You use the breathing techniques all those meditation classes taught you, but still, you feel your heart try to thump its way out of your chest. Quickly, you grab your keys and subtly look out of the window to check Jacob’s car is gone.

Seeing the road empty, you leave the house making sure the door is locked behind you, and get in your car with only one destination in mind.

Dean.

“Wow! Don’t you look beautiful,” Dean grins as he opens the door, but it soon fades and he clenches his jaw in anger as the tears finally spill from your eyes. “What did he do? I’ll kill him!” He fumes and you shake your head and push him back into the house, following behind him.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on, sweetheart, or do I have to hunt the bastard down?” Dean asks once your tears have stopped, taking a seat on his couch and tapping the space next to him for you to join him.

“It wasn’t him… well it was, but it’s not what you think,” you say quickly as he shoots up from the couch and grabs his car keys. “Dean, please, just listen.”

“Alright,” he relents and sits on the edge of the sofa once more, his knee starting to bounce.

“The date was fine, he was the perfect gentleman,” you begin, and Dean frowns at you.

“I don’t understand. Then why are you crying?” he asks, and you laugh when you realise just how ridiculous this all is.

“I don’t know! I shouldn’t be! He’s handsome, and funny, and kind! You know he asked me if I was doing okay several times because he knew it was my first date since Sam? He did everything right. It was the perfect date.”

“You’re not making any sense, Y/N. If it was so perfect, why are you so upset?”

“Because he kissed me!” you yell frustrated. “He kissed me and it should’ve felt right, I should’ve felt something, but it just felt… I just felt numb,” you finally admit. “What if I’m broken? What if I was only ever meant to be with Sam?”

“Y/N…” Dean trails off, and you know he’s trying to think of something that will comfort you.

“I should’ve felt something, right? Like even if it was like a flutter in my stomach or my heart hammering, right? Or even just disinterest,” you don’t know if you’re asking or begging at this point.

“You really felt nothing?” Dean’s tone is sincere, holding none of the judgement you thought it would.

“Not a single thing,” you confirm and he raises his eyebrows as he thinks over what you’ve told him. “I’m broken, aren’t I?”

“No, sweetheart, you’re not broken. If it’s not there, it’s not there. Perfect date or not, you can’t force yourself to feel what you don’t feel,” he consoles you, and deep down you know he’s right.

“But how do I know for sure?” It slips out before you can stop it, “what if the same thing happens on the next date? And the next one, and the one after that.”

“Hey,” Dean stands up from the sofa and takes your hands in his. “Look at me. That’s my girl,” he whispers when you look up at him. “That won’t happen. The only reason it happened tonight is that, although Jacob may be perfect, he’s not perfect for you, alright?”

You know what he’s saying is right, and as his words sink in, you feel foolish that you drove across town at eleven on a Friday night to freak out over a meaningless kiss. Huffing a defeated sigh and standing up, you grab your keys to leave. 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry for barging in so late with more drama. I’ll let you get back to your night,” you smile flatly and turn to the door.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” Dean says as he gently grabs your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“It’s fine, Dean. I’m fine. I just want to go home,” you shrug him off.

“And do what? Sit there alone and overthink this?”

“Overthink it? Dean, it was a kiss with a guy I’m clearly not attracted to. You said so yourself,” you argue.

“It’s not about the kiss though, is it? Not really. It’s about more than that. It’s about you thinking your ability to love died with Sam.”

“Dean, don’t–” you insist, not wanting to hear it, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Don’t what, Y/N? Don’t tell you the truth? Don’t try to make you see there’s nothing wrong with you. That you’re perfect, and Jacob just isn’t worthy of having you. That you’re beautiful and smart, and one day you will find the person who’s right for you.”

“Dean…” you say, but you don’t know how to follow it up, and so you shut up and stare at the floor.

“Do you trust me?” he questions.

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation from you and when you tear your eyes from the floor to look at him, you see him smile softly at your admission.

“Okay. Right or wrong, good or bad, promise me we’ll talk about this,” he pleads with you.

“Talk about what?” you frown.

“What I’m about to do. Please Y/N, promise me,” he begs once more.

“Alright, I promise.”

Dean steps closer to you and cups your cheeks in his large, calloused hands before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. His lips are surprisingly soft, and the scent of everything that’s just Dean surrounds you and dazes you.

And then you feel it.

The butterflies that swarm in your stomach; the haze that descends over you, cutting off all thought except for him and his lips on yours. Without warning, a whine escapes your throat and you open your mouth to encourage Dean to really kiss you, moaning when he does.

It’s good. And you feel like you did all those years ago when Sam kissed you for the first time. Lifting your arms, you circle them around Dean’s shoulders and pull him flush with your body and deepen the kiss.

His hands ghost down your back and snake around your waist. The kiss begins to soften and when his lips part from yours, he chuckles as you chase after them with your own. 

“Not broken?” he asks, resting his forehead on yours.

“Definitely not broken,” you respond breathlessly.

“Told you,” Dean chuckles and presses his lips to yours again, much softer and more innocent this time. You aren’t sure who makes the move, but before you fully comprehend what’s going on, your lips are on his again and you’re pushing the flannel from his shoulders. Dean picks you up and encourages you to wrap your legs around his waist and carries you to the bedroom.

Next Chapter>>

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[redgoldsparks]

February Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

Ruthless Vows by Rebecca Ross read by Alex Wingfield and Rebecca Norfolk

This book started a little slowly for me, as I waited for Roman to regain his memories and for Iris to get back to reporting at the front. Luckily, the magical typewriters once again play a major role in this story as they did in the first one; Roman and Iris's letters are the emotional heart of this series. I also love how it fore fronts the importance of journalists during wartime. Iris's bravery and constant willingness to move towards danger and the unknown in service of sharing the truth makes her a very compelling character. Unfortunately, the magical divine conflict behind the war just didn't compel me very strongly in this book. I think the gods were introduced too slowly into the narrative, and that a lack of a human motivation behind the war simplified the conflict in a way that sucked some of the tension from the text. If you are looking for a solid romance with a strong epistolary element and the aesthetic of wartime setting, this series delivers; if instead you want a complicated, devastating, deeply emotional story of young people surviving a real historical war, pick up Code Name Verity or Rose Under Fire.

Mamo by Sas Milledge

Jo has lived in her small seaside hometown her whole life, and loves it there. But then things start to go wrong- curses, bad luck, mysterious illnesses. She seeks out the town witch and finds a teen girl about her own age, named Orla, who Jo has never met before. It turns out Orla has just returned to town after the death of her grandmother, the previous witch. She wasn't buried properly and her bones are scattered around the town, stirring up bad energy, disturbing the local fae and trolls. Jo and Orla set out of lay the old witch properly to rest, but there's more going on than either of them realize. This is a fairly short but well told tale, queer and magical, and with a little bittersweet edge.

Look on the Bright Side by Lily Williams and Karen Schneemann 

This is a very charming follow up to Go With The Flow, taking place over the friend group's following high school year. Brit, who was diagnosed with endometriosis at the end of the previous book, had a surgery to remove it over the summer. When she goes back to school, she finds her affection caught between two different boys. Christine has finally admitted to herself that she likes Abby as more than a friend... but telling Abby that is another matter. Abby is still working on her campaign of menstrual justice on campus, while Sasha struggles to balance her homework, sports, and time with her boyfriend. The girls learn, grow, make mistakes, and support each other.

Gathering Moss written and read by Robin Wall Kimmerer

It took me a little longer to get into this one than Braiding Sweetgrass, mainly because I had much less personal knowledge of mosses than the larger types of plants which Kimmerer wrote about in Sweetgrass. It doesn't help that mosses do not have common names, so are referred to mainly by scientific names, and I was rarely able to picture them well in my head. However, by about a third of the way through I had fallen into the miniature world of mosses and the striking and insightful ways Kimmerer links them to all other organisms in their ecosystems. I loved learning how mosses, like tardigrades, with which they probably co-evolved, can survive desiccation and be revived by water even after all seeming signs of life have disappeared. I was intrigued by the story of a moss species which changes its gender over its lifespan, starting out producing only female reproductive stalks in its early days, shifting producing a mix of male and female stalks as it matures, and then producing solely male stalks as the patch reaches peak density. I was frustrated by stories of the illegal moss harvesting which is stripping Oregon rain forests bare. And I was once again completely charmed by the beauty and generosity of Kimmerer's writing and worldview. She's a bestseller for a reason; I highly recommend everyone pick up at least one of her books at some point.

The High Desert by James Spooner 

James' white mother and his black father divorced when he was in elementary school, and he moved around a lot. For high school, he moved with his mom to Apple Valley, a barren small town in the desert an hour inland from Los Angeles. Already a skater, James encountered punk music just went he needed it most: as an isolated and angry teen in a racist town with little to no underground scene or counterculture. The music, and later, the politics, of punk raised James in the semi-absence of parents and role models. This memoir, chronically roughly a year, is an unflinchingly honest look at the cruelty, creativity, friendship, and solidarity of teens. It has the density and scratchy texture of a 90s zine without ever sacrificing clarity. I was very impressed by how clearly and in what detail Spooner was able to recreate his high school angst and activist awaking in this coming of age tale. Punk wasn't the music that found me, but I still remember the high of finding a new favorite band or song that felt as if it spoke right to my teen soul. This book is a testament to the power of music to reach into the dark and pull someone out into the light.

Falling Back in Love With Being Human written and read by Kai Cheng Thom 

Short and sweet, this book is half confession, half spell book. Each chapter is written as a letter- to trans women, to activists, to sex workers, to johns, to those contemplating suicide, to TERFs, to children's book writers- each followed with a little action or ritual. I listened to it as an audiobook and loved hearing the letters in the author's voice, but I can also see how reading it in print and lingering over each letter one at a time would be wonderful too.

The Great Beyond by Lea Murawiec translated by Aleshia Jensen 

Manel Naher is an anti-social and idiosyncratic young woman living an endless city in which everyone advertises their own names on street signs, sandwich boards, at social events, on business cards, and by simply shouting them at strangers. This may not sound so different from our own world except that it's driven by an even more intense desperation: if one's name is not known, and one's presence fades fully from people's minds, and the forgotten person will literally die. Manel wants nothing more than to escape the city into the wilds beyond it, but her presence is so low she suffers a near fatal heart attack and is scared into a fearful scramble to gain enough fame to live. Her attempts to claw her way into people's memories is surprisingly successful, and in the process of becoming one of the 1% she leaves behind everything and everyone she loved. Never before have I read a comic that felt so much like literary spec-fic. The concepts are fascinating and the cartooning knocked me off my feet. A visual masterpiece I'll be thinking about for a long time to come.

The Spectred Isle by KJ Charles read by Ruairi Carter

Saul Lazenby is a disgraced archeologist who served time for a war crime during the recent WWI. Back in England, disowned by his family, he struggled to support himself. The only job he is able to secure is as a personal assistant to a batty old major who believes in fairy stories and keeps sending Saul off to various parts of London to investigate supposedly occult sites. Saul knows it's all fake but he keeps investigating anyway... and then a tree bursts in flames in front of him. And a mysterious gentleman keeps showing up at the same sites of sacred groves or ancient wells which Saul's been sent to look at. That gentleman is Richard Glide, who just happens to be the heir to one of the oldest arcane families in England. And he can't tell if Saul is causing the spiritual problems that keep occurring around him or if it's all an unlikely coincidence. This historical romance is a fun and quick read, shorter than most of the KJ Charles books I've read before. Be warned, the end sets up a sequel which has not, and may not, ever actually come out- but I still enjoyed this one on it's own.

Red at the Bone by Jacqueline Woodson 

A gorgeous, nonlinear novel about three generations of a Black family living in New York between roughly the early 1990s to the mid 2000s. The chapters rotate between multiple POVs, covering moments of change, tension, or reflection for the family. The opening scene is the evening of a debut party for sixteen year old Melody, who wears the dress her own mother was supposed to wear at her debut... except that she was already pregnant. From that moment, the narrative spins back time to how each character arrived there: Iris, a teen who refused to give up her baby but also refused to settle into motherhood; Aubrey, a young man in love with a girl who was already leaving him; Iris's mother Sabe, a daughter of a survivor of the Tulsa massacre, a women who stores her money in gold bars hidden around the house; Iris's father Po'boy, who as a young man ran races, and as an old man holds more love for his family that his body can carry. The character work here is so strong- I was immediately swept away into the cares, worries, secrets, and longings of the family. I read the whole book in one day, but I'll be thinking about it for a long time.

We Are The Land: A Native History of California by Damon B Akins and William J Bauer Jr 

It took me a long time to read this book, as it was challenging to read a history of genocide while also seeing genocide in my phone every single day. But I'm ultimately very glad that I finished it. This is a well researched, approachable, indigenous-authored history of the native people in the land now called California. I enjoyed how place specific this book is. I felt much more connected to the history recognizing nearly every place name, and once the book got passed around the year 1900 I started to also recognize names of organizations that still exist and activists who I'm familiar with. I have a much better understanding of the patchwork creation of and the broken promises of the reservations, land allotments, and rancherias. I was happy whenever the book mentioned Pomo master basket weavers Elsie Allen and Mable McKay, who my mom has been telling me about for years, or Greg Sarris, Santa Rosa based chairman of the Graton Rancheria and author. I have a better understanding of this land where I have lived and worked all my life after reading this book.

Zodiac: A Graphic Novel by Ai Weiwei, Elettra Stamboulis and Gianluca Costantini

I've been following Ai Weiwei's work since about 2010, and was absolutely delighted to learn he was releasing a comic memoir. I managed to snag a signed copy though the Comix Experience Graphic Novel of the Month Club and I will treasure it. This book is organized into 12 chapters, each themed around one animal from the zodiac. It weaves together slice of life moments from Ai Weiwei's day to day life, stories of his father (the revolutionary poet Ai Qing), memories of Ai's time as an art student in New York, his incarceration, time spent with his mother, his partner, and his son, conversations with artist friends and some of his international exhibitions. It is not a tight narrative; it wanders, it indulges in myths and fairy tales, it is open ended and I enjoyed it so much. It was written along with Elettra Stamboulis, and draw in a delicate lose line art style by Gianluca Costantini. A few of the lines from the end of the book haven't left my head since I read them: "Freedom of speech and human rights are not given to anybody for free. They always come through fighting and struggle" (101); "Any artist who isn't an activist is a dead artist" (165) and "... the purpose of art, which is to fight for freedom."(166)

Witchy Vol 2 by Ariel Salmat Ries 

This volume was just as beautifully drawn as book 1; the cartooning is masterful, but I don't have a very good sense of where the larger plot is going. This book was mostly a long side quest in which Nyneve learned how to make a broom under an exiled gay broom making master. I enjoyed this! However it didn't particularly seem to move the story forward. I will keep reading, but the sense of drama and urgency from the beginning of the first book is slightly missing here.

No Gods, No Monsters by Cadwell Turnbull read by Dion Graham  

What a ride! I went into this book knowing almost nothing, and I think that was the right way to go so I shall not summarize the plot. This is the first book of a series; it's ambitious, it's weird, it's got a very large and extremely diverse cast; it is such a fresh and original take on a contemporary sci-fi in which the world realizes that monsters, gods, and magic have existed all along. I worried a little in the first third that the book maybe had too many POV characters, most of whom seemed very unconnected from each other except by geographical proximity to either Cambridge, Mass, or the island of St Thomas. However by the end almost all of the characters had been at least tenuously linked by plot events in a way that really worked for me. The book also has trans, nonbinary, asexual, queer, and poly characters whose identities are only revealed slowly, and usually after you've known the character for a while. I am very impressed by the scope of this story and definitely plan to continue with the series.

Arrive In My Hands by Trinidad Escobar 

Sensual, at times tender, at times haunting, this beautiful little book is a collection of lesbian erotic comics from a poet artist at the top of her field. I am definitely biased, having been friends with the author for years, but I also deeply admire this work. The women, witches, and creatures in these stories yearn for pleasure and for freedom; they chase both through oceans, forests, broken suburban towns, and through dreams. The book is perfectly sized to hold close to your heart.

Bird by Bird by Annie Lamott read by Susan Bennett

I've been hearing about this book for years as a writing guide, but it is almost equally a memoir or collection of anecdotes about the writing life. Parts of it worked for me and other parts didn't. The author has a very different type of brain than I have, and the chapters on working through the anxiety, neurosis, and depression she suffered from when trying to write didn't really speak to me at all. I also did not enjoy the handful of flippant jokes about killing yourself when the writing isn't going well. However. There are also some genuinely really moving pieces about writing books as gifts to loved ones, especially loved ones who are soon to leave us. I thought a lot of the advice in the middle about focusing on details, on recording memories, on research, and on character development was really solid, and I want to keep some of it in mind when I start developing my next book. There was also a set of lines in the introduction, about how writers are able to participate in public life while also working from home and without leaving the house which hit the nail on the head of why I entered this career!

Recitatif by Toni Morrison read by Bahni Turpin with an intro written and read by Zadie Smith

I've been wanting to try another Toni Morrison, since the only one I had previously read in high school went completely over my head at age 15. Recitatif is Morrison's only short story, and this audiobook version is read by the wonderful Bahni Turpin (who you might recognize from Angie Thomas or Akwaeke Emezi's audiobooks). Also included in an excellent essay written and read by Zadie Smith. This comes first in the audio, but if you are new to the story as I was, skip the essay and listen to the story first! Then go back and listen to the essay afterwards. This way the cleverness and impact of the story can hit you fully. It is so smart, so well crafted, and such a master class in writing that both reveals and conceals so much about the complicated relationship of two damaged women.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 1 by Ryoko Kui 

I can immediately see why so many people are charmed by this world and these characters! This is the start of a really fun D&D infused adventure story, with a small group of down on their luck adventures deciding to cut their adventuring costs by eating the monsters they kill in the dungeon. The man behind this idea, Laos, is also searching for a missing sister who may or may not have already been eaten by a dragon. I already have books 2 and 3 on hold; I haven't been so captured by a manga series since starting Witch Hat Atelier.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 2 by Ryoko Kui

I devoured this book as quickly as book one. Our adventure party gets a bit deeper into the dungeon and begin to have more meaningful interactions with the beings who dwell there, including an Orc family just trying to get by, golems which grow vegetables on their backs, and living paintings which might reveal more of the buried castle's history.

Delicious in Dungeon vol 3 by Ryoko Kui

A flashback reveals more of the school friendship of Marcelle and Falin; a deep underground lake leads to many encounters with watery monsters of various types. I continue to have a very fun time with this series!

Bunt by Ngozi Ukazu and Mad Rupert

Molly grew up in Peachtree, Georgia, in her lesbian moms' hardware store, in the shadow of the town's prestigious and expensive art college, PICA. Every since she can remember, she's wanted to attend PICA- despite the fact that her best friend dropped out last year and says the school chews people up and spits them out. But Molly got a full ride scholarship, so her first semester should be a breeze, right? No! Because when she shows up to orientation, no one can find her scholarship or even her registration. It turns Molly will have to pay for her first year after all; she takes out some dodgy loans and scours the financial aid booklets for any other scholarship she can apply for. It turns out, if she can scrape up a full team of softball players... and they compete against other college teams in the same division... and they win at least one game over the course of the semester... the whole team gets a free tuition! Is it possible to win one game with a bunch of big-ego, burned-out, athletically-challenged artists? I loved the energy of this story, with many well-informed digs at art school culture and hypocrisy. The team has great chemistry and the art style is full of action, physical humor, and delightfully expressive cartooning.