#I live laugh love will wood no joke

[darsbw]

Some wee woo sketches!

[familyvideostevie]

all of it still matters

joel miller x fem!reader | 2.4k

you get sick and, much to joel's chagrin, refuse to take it easy.

jackson!joel, fem!reader, fluff, fainting, ellie and her dog that i invented for some reason, kind of plotless but who cares! it's all about love in the end, anyway.

a/n: welcome back to our lovebirds from just and just as. be gentle, please. it's been a while.

--

The sky is a brilliant orange. Golden hour, they used to call it.

It's probably a little too cold to be sitting on the front porch but you can't help it on an evening like this. You tug a fraying flannel of Joel's tighter around your shoulders. It's worn at the elbows and he reminds you that he'll fix it if you release it from your clutches but somehow that never happens. The journal he made you is open on your lap, almost full. You've taken care to write down not only your memories but the stories he and Tommy tell about their lives before, the day-to-day of Jackson, the jokes Ellie is particularly proud of. She recently recounted a birthday trip to a museum, laughing as she told you about pushing Joel into the water.

You take a sip of your pine tea. It's chilly through the whole day, now, and soon the morning frost will be snow. Winter was hard for a long, long time, but now it's comfortable. It means lights up in town, children throwing snowballs, community meals and dances. It means warm nights under your blankets with the furnace of a man you sleep next to, soft salve on chapped hands, a slowing down of the Infected sightings.

And it means Joel chopping wood. He should be doing it in the back yard -- usually does -- but this evening he's finishing up the trunk pieces Jesse left by the steps. A big tree had gone down at the edge of the town clearing and everyone got a few pieces once they'd split it up. Joel will no doubt give Ellie at least half of what he cuts.

The benefit of him doing it out front is you get to watch. His back is to you, but you can see the way his sleeves are rolled up, the damp hair curling over the collar. The exhale when he brings the axe down, the flex of his shoulder blades when he tugs it free of the stump. You could watch him do anything.

As if hearing your train of thought, Joel wedges the axe in the chopping block and turns to face you. He runs a hand through his hair, silver strands catching the orange light, and huffs.

"Enjoyin' yourself?" he says.

You grin at him. "I'd say so."

Two things happen at once. A headache blooms without warning at your temple, sharp enough that you wince and press your fingertips to the skin there. Joel notices and takes a step towards you but then a dog barks and his attention is drawn down the street.

"Naledi!" Ellie yells, jogging up the street after her dog. "Come on, we've talked about this!"

Joel glances back at you but you smile at him, ignoring the blooming pain in your skull. Naledi -- named after one of those characters from Ellie's comics -- runs right up to Joel and noses at his knee until he pets her. The animal loves him. You don't blame her.

"Jesus," Ellie says once she reaches the steps up to the house, panting. "She can run." She looks at the yard and scowls. "Aw, shit, Joel. Did you finish all the wood?"

Joel, one hand scratching behind Naledi's ears, levels her with an unimpressed look.

"Ain't gonna chop itself," he drawls. "Last thing we need is you holdin' an axe."

"Rude," she gasps. "You steal my dog and make fun of me. Are you hearing this?"

Ellie looks at you in mock outrage, cheeks pink from the cold. She's not a teenager anymore, but falls back into it so easily when Joel teases her. It's a treat to witness.

"I don't know, Joel, you've seen her --" You stand in the middle of your sentence and the words stop coming because your vision swims. Black spots dance across the yard and you pitch forward to brace yourself on the railing.

"Oh, fuck," Ellie says. Joel is up the porch and next to you in a blink, arm around your waist to steady you.

"You okay?" he asks, low and serious.

The spots disappear and you take some deep breaths. "I -- stood up too fast, I think."

Joel remains in your space for a few more seconds. Naledi barks, watching the whole thing with a tilted head from the grass below.

"Ellie," Joel says. "You wanna finish up the wood? I think we're gonna go inside."

"Totally," she replies. "Yeah, uh, go lie down, or something. We've got this."

Joel ushers you into the house and sits you down in the kitchen. The sun no longer peaks over the mountains so he flicks on the overhead lights, which make you groan. He's back by your side immediately, tipping your head up with a knuckle on your chin so he can look at you.

"Think you might've caught somethin'," he says. "Bout that time of year." He presses the back of his hand to your forehead and frowns.

You circle his wrist and tug his hand down. "Just tired," you say. "The overnight patrol is catching up with me."

"Hmm." Joel leaves you be and starts to fix you something to eat. You know better than to argue and, frankly, you don't have the energy to make something yourself. He sets some buttered toast in front of you and leans on the island to watch you take a small bite.

"Something to say?" you manage through a mouthful of bread.

He shrugs. "You should go to bed early." It's barely sunset but it sounds like a good idea. "You going to be okay to work tomorrow?"

Your shift at the stables with Ellie. Pretty easy, as far as labor goes. A good night's sleep should make it bearable. "Yeah, it's just mucking stalls."

"Hmm," he says again. You know what that means -- he's thinking, he's decided, he's preparing, but he'll let you reach the same conclusion in your own time. He won't force you into anything, never does, but he most certainly has an opinion.

You change the subject. "Did you grab my journal?" Joel nods and pulls it from his back pocket to set on the table next to your toast. You take another bite to appease him.

"Almost done with that thing," he says. "Gonna need another one."

"If only I knew someone who made them," you tease. That gets a gruff laugh out of him.

"What you writin' about today?"

"You, Tommy, and motorcycles." Tommy had told you all about the famed birthday ride at the last family dinner. Everyone had heard the story but you, so their voices overlapped about a hundred times as they fought to be the one to explain.

Joel chuckles. "You ever been on one?"

You take one more bite of your toast and push the plate away. He's on it in a second, taking it over to the sink.

"No," you reply. "I don't even know the last time I saw a working one. Just stripped metal out in the wild."

"Think you'd like it," he says. "Good way to see things. Bit of an adrenaline rush."

"Yeah, because there's a shortage of that these days."

The joke falls flat and your eyelids start to droop so you don't see Joel's reaction anyway. Your head throbs.

"Bed," Joel says, softly. Hands on your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. "C'mon."

He ushers you up, hand on your back on the staircase. He waits while you brush your teeth and helps you into an old shirt and threadbare pants with a gentle touch.

When you're settled under the covers he perches on the edge of the bed and lays his hand on your forehead once again. A frown makes its way back onto his face and he checks your cheeks, your neck.

"I'm just tired, Joel," you mumble. "It's alright."

"Hmm." He kisses the inside of your wrist lightly and stands. "Gonna go check on Ellie, alright? I'll be back soon."

You fight to keep your eyes open and fail.

__

You feel like shit in the morning. Your head is pounding, your body aching. But you've had worse -- you've had broken bones and bruised ribs. You've been sick, you've been tired, you've been scared. This is nothing compared to life and death. You can muck a few stalls with a headache.

Joel isn't here -- a note on the counter says he got called to fix someone's sink and that he thinks you should stay home. You ignore it and head to the stables, taking deep breaths and walking slow.

Ellie shows up not long after you arrive and finds you leaning on your pitchfork in one of the stalls. Your stomach is churning but you're upright, still.

"You look like shit," she says.

"Thanks, kid," you grumble. "Where's your dog?"

"Dina's taking her on the trails today." They've been training Naledi to smell and track Infected.

You sway a little and make some noise of assent.

"Dude, are you sure you should be here today?"

If you leave now, she'll have to do the stalls herself. "I -- let me do a few more. I'm fine. It's alright."

She gives you a look she almost certainly learned from Joel but doesn't argue.

You are fine...for a little while. Ellie seems content to let you work in silence but you feel her eyes on you as you shovel shit and old hay. Just one more, you tell yourself. Then you'll go home and lie down. One more turns into two turns into three until you're scooping a big pile of straw and the spots dance across your vision again.

"Oh," you say with a gasp, and reach out for the wall, for something, anything to lean on. But your hand finds only air and then you're tipping, tipping, and you hear Ellie's Oh shit! and then --

Nothing.

No, I caught her before her head hit the ground. Are you on your back? Wait til she wakes to move her. Sounds like Esther. God, it smells like shit in here. Someone's hand on your forehead. He's coming --

You blink a few times and the roof of the barn comes into view. A groan makes its way up your throat without permission.

"Fuck," you say. "What --"

"Jesus," Ellie exhales. She's on her knees on one side of you, tugging at her fingers. "God, why did you come to work today?"

"I--"

"Where is she?" Joel's voice echoes through the barn and you try to get up on your elbows when you see him. The sudden movement makes your head pound again and hands on your shoulders help steady you. You're blinking into Joel's face, his creased brow and frown deepening as he kneels next to you.

A warm, weathered palm cups your cheek and his gaze catalogs the scene. He does this a lot -- takes in as many details as he can and makes a quick choice on how to proceed. It's a well-honed ability, one that's kept him alive this long. It's kept you and Ellie alive, and countless others in his company, too. Knowing how bad something is, and whether or not you can fix it.

He huffs, some of the tension melting from his face. "Just tired my ass," he mutters. "How're you feelin'?"

"Guess I fainted," you say weakly.

Ellie snorts. "No shit."

"Guess so," Joel echoes. "You wanna get up?" You nod. He does most of the work, arm around your waist as you stand and sway and end up tucked into his side.

"Surprised your knees work this well," you mutter. He makes a low noise in his throat and squeezes your side but otherwise ignores you.

"Think we're gonna go home, if that's alright," he says. You realize the crowd is a little bigger than you thought. Ellie, Esther, and some of the younger boys who work the horses stand nearby. Your head pounds too much for you to be properly embarrassed. You'll have to thank Ellie later for keeping an eye on you but for now, you let Joel lead you out of the stables without waiting for a reply.

Joel walks you home slowly.

"Did someone come get you?" you murmur. He nods.

"Kid said you fainted," he says. "I see you ignored my suggestion this mornin'."

"Yeah, but if I stayed in bed you wouldn't get to be a knight in shining armor."

There is a small voice in the back of your head that reminds you how bad it can be to be sick in this world. You've all seen it -- sickness takes a few people every year, a handful in bad ones. This is probably just the flu. You know that and Joel knows that. And even that can be dangerous, but you're here with the one man in the world who could defeat pretty much anything. Joel, who will keep you safe, who will see you through it. You really, truly believe that. And you want him to believe it, too.

"How polite of you," he says.

Your boot catches on the ground and you stumble a little. Joel slows you to a stop.

"I'm fine," you remind him. "Just sick, I guess." He huffs but you start walking again. "You really looked worried back there, you know."

"Yeah, well." You reach the stairs up to your house. He tightens his hold on you, practically taking all of your weight as you go up them one at a time. "Was worried you fell into some horse shit. Smell up the whole damn house."

That gets a laugh out of you. He gets you up the porch, across the threshold.

"You gonna listen to me this time?" he asks, sitting you down on the entryway bench. "Stay home, rest up?"

"I'll think about it," you sigh. "You gonna take care of me, Dr. Miller?"

He kneels in front of you to take off your boots and smirks. How many times have you done this? Peeling off each other's boots after a long day. When one of you is sick, when one of you is hurt. Your head is pounding and you almost certainly have a fever but Joel's gentle hands and familiar smirk sets you at ease. You're going to be doing this forever.

"C'mon," he says. "You know I'll take care of you."

He tucks your boots under the bench and puts his palms on your thighs. You lean forward to kiss him and miss by a mile, lips landing at the corner of his mouth.

"My head hurts," you say against his cheek. "I love you."

Joel sighs. "I know, baby," he murmurs. "I got you."

He does.

[jjenthusee]

Subtle Stitches

jason todd x reader

A/N: i had an idea then it kinda spiraled? idk if in a good or bad way but i kept adding more and more. i’m also so exhausted from day to day life so this is to comfort myself HAHAHA so ENJOY :D

Tags: fluff, domestic jason, silly jason, toxic jason if u squint but i’m blind to that 😌 and slight angst but all is well :)

You tiredly started putting clothes in the washer, throwing mixed pieces of clothing from your pile and Jason’s pile.

Colors were first, a mixture of fabrics placed in the machine.

After emptying the laundry basket, you remembered the shirt you threw on the floor from this morning. A bad habit you’ve started to pick up as you rushed to get to work on time.

Unsure of the precise outfit you wanted, multiple changes, then changing back into the original outfit, it gave you a pile of clothes thrown last minute.

You grabbed the shirt off the floor.

It wasn’t dirty necessarily, but now you wanted to wash it.

On your way back from the bathroom, you noticed a spare sock thrown sadly outside the door.

Then a completely different lone sock in your bedroom and a pair of pants you left to air-dry, but never bothered to put away still on the dining chair.

You gotta work on this bad habit you’ve developed, but after working all day and getting home late, you hadn’t been able to give yourself any down time, let alone complete any chores.

You hadn’t even seen Jason. Only giving him quick morning forehead kisses before work as he sleepily tried to cling onto your waist.

Wrapping a strong arm around you, locking you permanently to his side.

You had no idea how his sheer strength kept you in place as he lazily laid on the bed, but after much convincing that you had to fulfill your portion of the rent and several kisses to Jason’s face, did he finally let you go.

As much as it pained you to leave, you loved the wrinkled clothes left by his adamance to throw you back on the mattress next to him.

It felt like every weekday, he was getting closer to convincing you to drop everything, ditch the city, go off-grid and live deep in the woods surviving off berries and spring water, but alas you silently trudged yourself to the bus stop.

You left like a soldier going off to war, sworn to duty while their partner, like Jason, held their tears and waved a white handkerchief as the city bus wisped you away to 8+ hours of labor.

Both of your schedules, opposite of one another, never aligned. Jason swung the city in the peak of the night, under the stars and amongst the ongoing sirens, but you had the most torturous criminal in all of Gotham, a 9-5. It waited for you, forbade you from staying out too late.

You once joked to Jason over dinner that he should leave a small token of…warning to your boss, for a needed day off, but when Jason didn’t laugh and comfort you like you expected, you made sure to make him pinky promise he wouldn’t physically or mentally harm your boss.

When he wouldn’t wrap his pinky with yours, you refused to eat the warm meal he cooked. After dismissing every possible way he could make your boss beg, he reluctantly sworn the great promise of pinkies to not do any permanent harm in favor of you eating.

With a worrisome look, you took slow bites, watching Jason act like he didn’t create new torture tactics at a family dining table.

After another additional verbal reassurance from the man and an unconvincing sigh, he only agreed that if you promised to never miss a goodbye kiss before work, then he would follow any rule you set.

So far, no broken promises and no mass emails about a sudden company shut down due to threats, so it was a win?

Even then, they could force you to work remote, so unless Jason unrelentingly asks Tim to shut down all power and service in the area, you still had to be a working citizen.

The commute to and from work already took up most of your minimal free time, so it felt like you woke up to work, ate a quick meal, then fell asleep to wait for the next work day.

Luckily in the rare moments, Jason got to get a quick kiss on your shoulder before going out for patrol. Usually you were passed out on the couch, but with a beautifully handwritten note from your lover, you woke up on the bed thanks to Jason carrying you.

You needed a Jason recharge soon, but that had to be until the weekend and for work to even out before you got that luxury.

While the clothes were being washed, you started a small water to clean the dishes.

Soapy bubbles coating your hands as you washed the utensils that Jason used to make you daily lunches.

You almost cry at every lunch, adoring the beautiful meal that graced you, made with the scarred and gentle hands of Jason.

With the last pot placed on the drying rack, you sent one last text for the night.

You: clothes in the wash, was gonna put them in the dryer but i’m frog blinking and i need to sleep \(o-0)/

jay: ok, got the dishes when i get back :)

You: already washed them :(((

jay: how dare u be a responsible adult

You: i’ll repent 😔

jay: 12 years in the slammer, community service, and a lunch date with me on saturday

You: yes sir 🫡 i promise to reduce my sentence for good behavior

As you finished brushing your teeth, you noticed Jason’s jacket thrown on the couch.

You were surprised he didn’t take it out on patrol, but after the last stabbing incident there were relatively large holes in the sleeves and pocket.

You were grateful that most of the damage was in the jacket and not Jason, but he still kept it.

After looking at its sad state, you offered to shop for a new jacket together, but Jason was reluctant. Saying it could be fixed.

With a small smile, you grabbed the coat, grabbing your mending kit that you got for free from a hotel you stayed at a while back.

You messily stitched the first hole, but after finding the right pace, muscle memory kicked in and you finished up the stitching.

Not the best work, but you hoped the dark color would hide any mishaps and make it seamless.

When the handiwork was done, you left the jacket as you saw it and went to bed.

—

When work eased up, you almost got to see Jason for a full evening.

You cuddled on the couch, your legs over his, leaning on the pillows.

Engrossed in the movie, but time for patrol was near and Jason had to move your legs and get up to get his gear on.

When he reappeared from the bedroom, you saw the mended jacket back on his broad shoulders.

With a quick kiss goodbye, a quiet shut from the window, you finished the movie. Happy that you managed to save the jacket that Jason refused to let go.

After a couple nights, work was tougher on your body than usual and the jacket was back on the couch. A new tear on the sleeve that you closed up.

The several patchwork was starting to concern you.

You have to convince him that he needed a new jacket. One without tears preferably.

“Jay, I’m running out of thread. I think it’s time.” You tiredly held the worn out jacket in your lap. Poking the needle into the fabric, careful to not prick yourself.

“No, it’s still got some life. Since you’ve sewn it, it’s never looked better.” Jay washed the dishes.

“I’ve heard Roy ask if you tried to sew it yourself. I know it’s not the best work, but even you’re more meticulous than I am.” You knotted the end of the thread, cutting off the excess.

“Roy can’t even tie his shoes, so don’t listen to him.” Jason turned on the faucet, letting the water flow into the sink.

“I know we’re both busy, but I can run to the store after work to buy you one. I saw a really nice one that would look great, It’s not far and I can take the next bus—“ You tried to reason.

“Absolutely not, you already know how I feel about you taking that route so late.” Jason scrubbed the plate.

“I’ll go with a coworker, we do leave in groups anyway. It’s just once—“ You sighed, folding the jacket.

“No, this isn’t something you can convince me on.” Jason placed the glass plate down, a little more harshly than he wanted, but he grabbed a mug without stopping. “I have to meet Babs and Steph to talk about the recon tomorrow, I won’t be in the area.” Sternness filled Jason’s voice, unconvinced.

“Jason, we’ve talked about this, I can go—“

“I don’t want to risk it.” Jason held the cup, frustration in his eyes as he stared it down.

“But, I want to do this for you. We haven’t—“ You pushed, exhaustion making your patience thin.

“I said no!” Jason raised voice, shutting yours down.

The mug shattered in the sink. Jason flinched as if even he was shocked by his own reaction.

The faucet continuously ran water as all noise surrounding you stopped. Like it was inconsiderate to the tension that built in your apartment.

You sat for a moment before walking over to shut the water off.

“I’m—I’m so—“ Jason fumbled.

You looked into the sink, at the aftermath of the pieces of the mug that had snipped his fingers.

You calmly grabbed the sponge soaking up Jason’s blood as he stood there, letting you maneuver his body like a puppet.

You can rinse and sanitize the dishes later, but you grabbed a kitchen towel. Letting Jason sit at the dining table as you patched him up.

“I’m not mad, Jay. I was just surprised.” You disinfected his cuts, no reaction from Jason, probably from years of experienced pain. Years of trying to patch himself up.

It saddened you.

You didn’t realize the privilege of hating the pain of paper cuts and not stab wounds. Hating the sting of alcohol, not digging out bullets out of your skin.

“I know we haven’t seen each other and I’ve been missing you.” You cleaned up the miscellaneous bandage wrappers and sat in front of Jason. “But, you’re more stubborn than usual about this new jacket.”

You looked at Jason who was avoiding your eyes, rubbing at the bandages covering his skin.

With a sigh, he reached for your hand. A silent reassurance as he found the words.

“I’ve missed you too. That jacket—it’s been with me since I’ve met you. I’ve had it too long to just get rid of it.” He admitted, fluffy hair drooping the more he talked.

He continued.

“It’s just…hard to part with it. When I saw the new stitches, it felt good that a part of you was with me on patrol. We’ve also been so busy, I can only see you for a split second before one of us leaves. I know you wanna replace it, but…I need it.” Jason rubbed at your knuckles.

You put your hands on top of Jason’s, reciprocating the rubs as you listened.

“I didn’t know.” You gazed up to Jason, who hung his head down.

Vulnerability was a step that both of you had to learn. You focused too much on Jason, constantly forgetting about your own feelings and Jason still needed help in rightfully expressing his emotions.

You had barely made time to enjoy each other and despite living with one another, you weren’t updated in each other’s lives.

“I’m sorry.” You pecked Jason’s hands.

“Why are you apologizing? I raised my voice and broke a cup.” Jason leaned forward, hesitantly bringing his face and body closer to yours.

You stayed still, not to frighten his advances, to tell him it was okay.

“I would’ve known about this if I had made time for us. I’ve been so focused on work that I haven’t been able to even do simple chores.” You touched your forehead to Jason’s. “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep in next to you and go for a lunch date. But even that’s asking for too much, I guess.”

The vulnerability covered the two of you in a single blanket. Protecting and helping both of you finally be honest.

“No, no, don’t apologize for that. I was ready to help you in any way I could.” Jason kissed your eyelids as you closed them, the exhaustion slowly easing from your bones as you kept contact with him.

He held your face, hands wrapped in bandages.

“All I ask is you take care of yourself.” Jason whispered. Watching your lips, watching your eyes.

“All I need is my Jason recharge. I’m on empty.” You lightly chuckled, sleepiness apparent in your voice.

“I think I could spare some time.” Jason teased, kissing the corner of your lips.

You nudged his shoulder playfully.

“Shut up and kiss—.” You breathlessly pulled at Jason’s shirt.

Before you could even finish your request, Jason leaned in, using his thumb to rest on your chin, opening your mouth for him.

The rhythm was slow.

Jason always started like that, letting you control how far and how soon you wanted him.

Your face heated, letting feeling take over.

Your grip on his shirt got tighter.

Jason pulled your chair closer.

When it wasn’t close enough, he grabbed you to sit on his lap.

Effortlessly, you rested yourself on his thighs, making your body flush with his.

Grabbing at the roots of his hair, you tried to inhale his hums.

Your imaginary battery was slowly filling, maybe you would need to take this a step further for a full recharge.

As Jason’s grip got stronger on your skin, your breaths louder, and the more you pulled at his hair, he got more restless.

In one lift, Jason got you off his lap, laying you onto the dining table.

He leaned his body between your legs.

You watched his beautiful flush face as he lifted your shirt, his hands just as flushed as he kissed down your abdomen.

“Jay, I think I’m too tired to help you.” You breath hitched.

“Relax, this is my recharge too.” Jason leaned his cheek on the inside of your thighs, kissing the sensitive skin before a call rung from his phone.

It vibrated repeatedly as Jason continued to keep his attention on you.

When the ringing stopped, you could focus again.

Then the same ringtone started again as Jason’s face scrunched.

“Dammit, I’m gonna kill whoever—“ Jason reluctantly walked away from the table you laid on.

“You better be on the verge of dying, so I can go over there and finish the job, Dickwad.” Jason watched you sit up.

Another huff came out of his mouth as he was not pleased that he wasn’t getting his alone time with you.

Then your phone rung from the chair you were previously on.

Your stupid boss had decided to call about some other task he thought was too important for him.

With reluctance, you answered.

Both of you were disappointedly looking at each other as you were both occupied.

When both calls ended, you silently stared at each other.

You sat on the edge of the table and Jason stood in front of you.

He offered you a hand and you slowly fell into Jason. Burying your face into his chest.

“Sadly, we’re both needed somewhere. I think we need to take a rain check.”

“Can’t believe I have to set up an appointment to get laid.” Jason sighed into you.

You laughed out loud.

“Maybe if a miracle happened tomorrow, but we have the weekend.” You kissed Jason one last time.

—

The next morning, you woke up passed your alarm. Jason’s muscular arms and his even breaths were too soothing that it blocked out the repeated ringing.

The bus was arriving in 15 minutes.

You rushed outta bed, grabbing your keys, putting on mismatching socks on the floor.

Jason lazily perched his head up at all your movement, absently watching you run around.

“Sweethe—“ He called out.

“Shit, did I finish the report?” You ran to grab your laptop.

“My lo—“

“My watch! Crap, I didn’t iron my shirt for the meeting today.” You grabbed your bag.

“What about—“ Jason tried to interrupt.

“I gotta go, but let’s eat out tonight? I’ll call you when I get off.” You ran out the door, blowing air kisses to Jason.

You barely managed to get on the bus before the doors shut and you were scrambling to get yourself in a seat.

After a deep breath, you were gonna make it to work.

A late start, but you made it. You stepped off the bus, walking to the large building that made your jaw drop the first time you laid eyes on it, but it didn’t seem all that spectacular after a couple years of seeing it.

As you were walking, several people were rushing out the building.

Crowds walking out in large strides, taking what they could as papers fumbled out the doors.

You watched in confusion.

What sick villain was wreaking havoc on your building at eight in the morning?

You were about to turn around when your coworker bumped into you.

“Thank goodness you’re out. I was worried when I couldn’t find you.” They grabbed your arm, giving you a once over as you stood there.

“What happened?” You looked up at the building. It seemed fine.

“We gotta go, they got the boss and I don’t wanna be next.” Your coworker pushed you across the street, trying to get you farther from the sea of people shoving you outta the way.

“What?”

“I don’t know, but it all happened so fast, then all the alarms started and ya know when shit starts happening you gotta get outta there. One moment I was making scans, then the boss’ computer flew right by head and his glass walls were shattering. I saw the back of a big red guy and I just got this job, so I ran. I only need to see the back of Nightwing, if you know what I mean—“ You coworker rambled.

You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening at the realization.

“That son of a—“ You raised your voice before your phone rung from your pocket.

You angrily tapped the accept button before you were yelling at the invisible person, yanking your arm out of your coworkers.

“You crazy motherfucker—“ You swerved your body back toward the building, tension built up in your bones that you could only angrily walk back to the building in chaos.

Tons of employees dodging you.

“You forgot your lunch, so I decided to deliver it myself. I hope I got the right floor—“ Jason sung into the phone, walking past a suited man kneeling on the floor, glass digging into his knees.

“What are you doing?!” You marched to the front entrance, gripping your phone as you shoved the doors open.

Jason walked over to sit in the swivel chair, pushing himself to spin once and throw his boots on the overpriced desk. Not caring about dirtying the papers on it.

“Don’t worry, my love. We all make mistakes. We can all be forgetful.”

“What?!” You pushed the elevator button, waiting for the doors to open, but the wait only made you angrier.

“You broke a promise, sweetheart.” Jason spun a pen on his finger, letting gravity and motion balance the pen perfectly.

“What are you talking about.” You entered the elevator and pushed the button for your floor.

“You can’t even remember.” Jason glanced over to your boss still on the floor, motioning with his hands dramatically pointing to the phone. “What am I going to do? This is ridiculous, right?”

Despite your boss not being able to hear the conversation, he fearfully nodded his head quickly, not quite understanding why the Red Hood made a visit in broad daylight. Sweat beating on his forehead.

As Jason counted the elevator rings for every floor you passed, he smiled while on you stayed on the line.

Covering the bottom half of the phone, Jason looked at your boss, his helmet staring down the man.

“Beat it.” Jason commanded, not an ounce of the sweet playfulness he spoke with before.

Your boss was frozen, scared and confused as he looked back at the vigilante sitting in his chair.

In one motion, Jason nodded at the door, never saying another word as your boss ran out the door, throwing his body into the emergency exit stairwell, hopping down the steps.

Now with the man gone, Jason strolled to the elevator.

“You better be gone when I get there Jason Peter Todd—“ As soon as the elevator doors opened, Jason grabbed you, swinging you into his arms as he lifted his helmet and passionately kissed you in the aftermath he created.

In one woozy turn, you were back on your feet as you tried to process everything.

“Now that you fulfilled your promise, I would tell you to have a nice day at work, but, well…” Jason glanced around the office floor. Some lights burnt out and others flickered. You watched as glass littered the floor and chairs were thrown as everyone fled their way out. “You might be out for a couple days. The food is probably cold anyway, so let’s go out for lunch instead.” Jason grabbed you by your waist as he led you to a window he smashed open.

He smugly took your hand and swung your arms as he spoke, overjoyed.

“Watch your step, please.”

“You’re so dead when we get home.” You grabbed onto his arm, afraid to look out the edge of the building.

“What’s another death?” Jason held you tightly to his side. “If it’s by your hands, I’d face death any day.” He looked at you through the red helmet, his words modulated. It would’ve been swoon worthy if he didn’t just evacuate your entire work building, probably humiliated your boss, and costed you your job.

“I’m for sure fired.” You hit your head against Jason’s chest plate.

“Tim wiped all the service and power a mile out. Cameras stopped working before I even stepped in here. I tampered with the security myself, a personal touch. It’s like you weren’t even here, besides your boss isn’t so innocent, but Dick’s got him, he owes me for last night.” Jason’s gloves rested on your sides.

“How did you even convince him?” You couldn’t believe Jason would even ask for the help.

“Blackmail.”

You didn’t believe a second of anything that came out of Jason’s mouth.

After you gave a blank face to Jason, his helmet was looking back at you until he finally broke.

“Fine, it was a humiliating picture of Bruce I’ve kept for the perfect opportunity.”

“You risked all that because I forgot a goodbye kiss?” You raised an eyebrow.

“That you promised.” Jason emphasized.

You could only laugh out of disbelief.

“Fair enough.” You looked out toward the blue sky, wind picking up against your face at this height. “Your banned from any kisses for a week for this.”

“Sorry, wind is picking up!” Jason fell out the window with you in his arms. Grappling hook dragging your bodies across the city.

[logaenhowlett]

IF ONLY YOU KNEW PART TWO - L.H.

Summary: Dealing with the aftermath of everything that occurred last night, Logan decides it's time to stop running from his desires. [Set during Logan (2017)]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Themes of grief and death, Language

A/N: Thank you so much for the love on part one! Didn't expect it to blow up that much. Good news is, it gave me the motivation to write more, so I have lots of ideas for Logan fics!

MASTERLIST | PART ONE

Over two hundred years, Death had become all too familiar for Logan. A foe that kept barreling in his direction, but always fizzled out before it reached him, instead striking those he cherished the most. When he was younger, he used to revel in feeling of being indestructible, immortal even. That faded away rather quickly once he realised what a curse it was, a cruel joke he grew tired of. Alas, the universe continued laughing.

He thought he could avoid all the unnecessary pain and misery by severing all ties to humanity, retreating to the ends of the world all by his lonesome. But not even the strongest soldier could resist the craving for connection for that long. When Charles had offered a place in his sanctuary, he refused at first, wondering why the universe always seemed to work against him. 

Eventually, the need to distance himself from everything and everyone became smaller. Charles had given him a home, a family, a sense of belonging and after a while, you. Logan was not one for retrospection, but he often recollects how drastically his life had changed once he’d accepted the responsibility of being an X-Man. How he’d gained a new purpose. He owed everything to Charles Xavier.

The shovel in his hand gets heavier by the second. He stops digging for a moment, sensing a whole lot of anger, sorrow and desperation waiting to burst out of him. He knew the end was near for Charles, ever since the incident the old man was barely hanging on. There were times when he wished Charles would just let go, just stop fighting against his mind and body, for his own sake. But that didn’t make his death hurt any less.

His own exhaustion was catching up to him too, having spent the last few days - hell, the last few months - putting everyone else before himself. He hasn’t been able to rest despite all your efforts.

As the last of the dirt falls onto the grave, Logan staggers backwards, his shoulders knock into the tree. He slides against the trunk a little as his knees begin to loosen under his weight, unsure whether it’ll be the adamantium poisoning or heartache that’ll get him first.

Laura’s sniffling snaps his attention, he watches as she curls into your embrace, nothing you were saying stops the tears from escaping. He can see you’re trying to keep your composure for the little girl, but he knows you’re just inches away from completely breaking down. Charles was the father you’d chosen, he had saved your life just as he’d done for countless others, brought you into his arms and gave you something to live and fight for. He knows you’re as defeated as he is right now. Despite every cell in his body aching to comfort you, he understands you need the time and space to grieve in your own way.

After moments of silence, the three of you return to the car. There wasn’t a lot of time left for Laura to find her friends and cross the border to get to freedom. Logan uses that to ground himself to reality, helping her would be a way to honour Charles, for everything he had done and represented. He vows that he’ll grant her wishes, even if it’s the last thing he’ll do. He owes that to Laura, to Charles and to you.

The stars twinkle miles above, painting the night sky with their luminous hue. Logan pulls into the roadside near a lake, deciding it’s in the best interest of everyone to rest tonight. He steps out the car, scouting for a decent place to start a fire. Laura silently accompanies him to gather wood, her eyes follow you as you wander towards the lake, away from the two of them.

Logan senses her need rush to your side, he shakes his head slightly, understanding her distress, “She’ll be okay, kid.” It comes out a little hoarse, having been the first words he’d spoken all day.

All the smoking he’d done in the last two centuries comes in handy, he uses his lighter to spark flames, tending to it before it settles into a calm fire. He runs his hand down his face, his mind has been in overdrive for too long and all he wants is for one moment of quiet. Where he can surrender, stop trying to survive and just live.

“Why are you hiding?” Laura asks him, holding her hands toward the flame.

“What?”

She turns her head to find you in the distance sitting down on the grass with your feet in the water, “From her.”

Logan follows her line of sight, “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, kid.” 

“You want to die. Charles told me.”

He scoffs, the name leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, “What else did he tell you?”

“To not let you.” She stands, finally meeting his eyes. “Tell her. If you want to be happy.” She doesn’t stick around for his response, instead making her way back to the car to sleep.

Her words strike a chord in him, he huffs lightly, ducking his head into his chest. What the hell did she know? Happiness wasn’t something he envisioned for himself. No, that often came in the form of alcohol or stupid cage fights. He never let himself indulge in anything else, having learned his lessons from what seems like a lifetime ago. 

The leaves crunching under your footsteps draws his attention, you sit down an arm's length away, prodding the fire with a stick. He doesn’t know how to address the giant elephant hanging in between the two of you. Last night, when you’d asked the question, the answer was right there on the tip of his tongue. So easy and so simple. But he withdrew, in such a cowardly manner too, deflecting as if he doesn’t ache for you with each passing day.

“He taught me how to play chess.”

He studies you for a brief moment, the tear tracks on your face shine against the orange hue of the fire.

“We used to sit every day, in the garden, I’d run straight to him after classes were done.” You continue, a fond smile on your face, “I was convinced he was cheating, you know? I never beat him.”

Your resolve crumbles and sadness washes over you once again, “And I never will.”

It dawns on him too, the finality of what had happened last night. He almost laughs at the thought of Charles, beloved by so many, resting in an unmarked grave in the middle of nowhere. The universe is a cynical motherfucker.

If anything, he hopes the man felt proud in his last moments, happy for all he’d achieved in his lifetime. Logan wishes he could be even half the person his mentor was. He always berated him to reach out to those around him. To you. That joy was but a breath away from his grasp, all he needed to do is let you in. He must’ve sensed how well the two of you would get along, how you needed each other’s presence as a pillar of support.

“Why did you keep coming back?”

The question renders him a little speechless. Memories flash across his mind - Rogue, Bobby, Storm, but mostly, you. The two of you had always tiptoed around each other when it came to feelings, at times getting enough courage to finally say something, but never following through.

You stand up, thinking he’s absolutely not in the mood to talk. You don’t blame him either. That’s the thing between you two - there was always some silent understanding of the other.

“You.”

It leaves him so quietly, he’s not sure if you heard him. He’s already looking at you when you turn around, something in your eyes he’s never noticed before. Tell her. If you want to be happy. There’s no reason to hide anymore.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first,” He starts slowly, “You kept… creeping into my life and I… I couldn’t stay away.” A smile, a genuine smile, appears on his face, one that hadn’t graced him in a long while.

“I’ve been around for a long time - more than I should’ve.” He continues, his eyes never leaving yours, “I always… felt like I didn’t deserve to survive. It shouldn’t be me, standing here instead of someone else. But you, being around you… made me want to try.” A weight forms in his throat, he swallows it down, “Try to live not just for you - but for me too. I can never thank you enough for that. For sticking with me, for trusting me, for letting me… love you.”

You close the distance, gently resting your hand against his cheek. He leans into your touch almost instantly, even that simple gesture is enough for him. But you don't end there.

"Logan... I love you too."

He thinks his heart stops, your admission knocks the wind out of him. The old man was right, everything he'd wanted was right in front of him. He leans into you, tilting your chin upwards and kisses you with a burning passion. All the pain he'd suffered sinks to the back of his mind, nothing but a shadow compared to what he's feeling at the moment. When you pull back, doe-eyed and out of breath, he realises this is it. You're it.

In the distance, he catches a smile form on Laura's face, her eyes still shut as she pretends to sleep.

And we're done! Always going to be a happy ending.

[giuseppe-yuki]

oh, deer!

george russell x deer shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 2k

warnings: asshole reporters, cursing, suggestive material

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: the ability to shift into a deer gets you out of some complicated situations

picture credits from pinterest :)

“wake up love, we are here!” george whispers, softly shaking you. 

you open your eyes slowly, and find yourself in the familiar inside of george’s sleek silver mercedes amg c 63 s. next to you, george has already turned his attention to searching in the middle console compartment for his badge, forehead wrinkled in irritation.

blinking the sleep out of your eyes, you grab your chanel clutch and feel inside for the familiar rectangle shape of you and george’s badge. even if your boyfriend was so skilled in driving that he could become one of the world’s top drivers, he definitely still had to work on his organization skills and not leave things lying around. 

you take out the badges from your bag and hand them over to george, sending him a small smile when you see the relief on his face.

“good lord, i don’t know what i would’ve done without you,” he says, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “i nearly had to call toto again to print me a new badge! at this rate, they should probably put a badge printer outside the gate for me when you’re not here,” he joked. 

you laugh aloud. it wasn’t often that you attended george’s races. it wasn’t that you didn’t want to- it was that your job as a lead conservation biologist in one of canada’s biggest national parks, wood buffalo, was really demanding and took up much of your time. this time though, your boss allowed you to take a few days off in order to watch your boyfriend at the canadian grand prix.

“ready to go?” george asks, putting on his team kit jacket. 

you nod, and like the gentleman he is, george hops out of his side of the car and rushes to open the door for you. 

“why thank you, good sir,” you say in a fake posh accent, taking his hand and climbing out of the car. 

the weather in montreal was slightly drizzly, but nothing you weren’t used to working in wood buffalo. you brush a few fat raindrops off of your coat as you walk towards the gated entrance of the paddock, wet gravel crunching under your feet. george reaches for your hand, entwining it with his. he suddenly turns to you. “i just want to thank you again for coming to the grand prix with me,” he says seriously. “i know you’ve been exhausted managing everything thats going on in wood buffalo and i’m so glad you’re spending your off days with me!” 

“aww, georgie!” you say grinning, “no need to thank me! i would willingly spend my break wherever in the world as long as you’re there.” 

by the time you arrived in the garage, the media had been notified of your presence. it wasn’t everyday that george russell’s shy elusive girlfriend showed up in the paddock. why haven’t you shown up at any other of george’s races? did you secretly hate him? were you hooking up with other guys while george was racing in japan? they didn’t even bother researching your background as a conservation biologist before throwing the wildest accusations at you. 

the second george left your side in the garage in order to hop in the car to start fp1, you started noticing media reporters and cameraman sneak into the mercedes motorhome in order to get the “scoop” about your attendance record at george’s races. when you looked at the live feed on the tv screens, you could see your own face staring back at you with a little frown. 

“hey, i’m a reporter for motorsport.com!” an enthusiastic woman exclaims next to you, causing you to jump a bit. “can i–”

before she could finish her sentence, a white samoyed barrels straight in the small gap between you and the pushy reporter. the dog barks at the woman, circles you a few times, and sits in front of your heeled feet, as if guarding you from the other newscasters. 

you whisper a small ‘thank you’ to the samoyed, giving a few pets on its thick white coat. you were pretty sure this was lewis hamilton’s dog, as you always saw it trailing around him in the media pen and around the paddock whenever you rewatched the f1 recaps and interviews when you were stuck in wood buffalo. the dog turns around, winks at you, and pads off towards lewis’ part of the garage. 

what the- you think. i had to be imagining that, because no way a dog just winked at me.

thankfully, the rest of the reporters keep their distance the rest of fp1, and you watch george as he gets a respectable result. you keep your distance as the engineers and strategists fix and put away parts of george’s car when he pulls back in the garage. george himself, sweaty from the multiple laps, pulls off his helmet and ear piece before approaching you. 

“how’d i do?” he says, grinning at you. his eyelashes seem extra long and his lips seem extra kissable right about now. before you can react, lewis shouts from across the garage.

“george, toto wants us in the meeting room in five. there’s an emergency meeting about tire management that he wants us to go over before fp2.” turning to you, lewis looks apologetically. “i’m sorry love, i know you probably wanted to spend some time with george before fp2, but toto was insistent on the meeting. you are welcome to wait in the driver rooms or walk around the paddock in the meantime!” 

you nod understandingly at lewis as george steps forward and wraps you in hug. he places a kiss at the top of your head, and whispers in your ear, “i’ll try and get out as soon as i can.” 

without george, lewis, and lewis’ samoyed, the reporters started to creep up to you again. your tired physical and mental state from the flight from wood buffalo along with the stress from having to talk to the journalists did nothing but piss you off even more. it got to a point where they were chasing you down, with their mics and cameras in hand. you spotted other drivers, but you were too scared to ask them for help, because you barely knew them from the small amount of time that you spent at any of the races.

you had managed to squeeze yourself between two garages at the edge of the property, haas and mercedes, to hide from the reporters, when you finally decided to use your last resort. 

you hurriedly morphed into your deer form right as the reporters found your hiding nook in between the garages. 

“huh?” a man dressed in a tropical button up says, eyeing you suspiciously. “i swear to god she ran in here!” 

a reporter from a different source shrugs. “that’s so weird. i guess we were chasing the poor girl down though. maybe i’ll come back a little later to do a double interview with her and george after fp2.”

the first man nods in agreement. “i guess so. we could possibly take a few shots of this random deer here though. it’ll be good for the nature and wildlife panel we can make for the paddock.” 

you flee from the scene the moment they are gone, and wander around the paddock, gaining attention from many fans. they stop to take a few pictures with you, not that you minded, because at least they were nicer than the reporters. fifteen minutes later, you find yourself by a patch of grass by the track. you spot a few wild rabbits hidden amidst the green blades of grass and approach them slowly. keeping mental notes about the characteristics, you continue to observe their movements. you giggle internally when they glance at you and tilt their heads in a questioning look. your shapeshifting abilities definitely had its perks, especially when it came time to analyze the wildlife. your boss had always wondered how you were able to make such accurate notes about the behaviors of other species. 

unbeknownst to you, f1tv had captured a live feed of the “cool deer by turn 10.” 

“what a magnificent creature!” david croft remarks. “it’s just wonderful seeing the wildlife around canada.”

partly through toto’s rant about how the unpredictable rain is fucking up their entire tire management plan, george has already zoned out. the word “wildlife” booming from the outside speakers is what captures george’s attention as he idly spins a pen around his fingers. perking up, he looks outside the window of the mercedes motorhome. sure enough, he sees you, his girlfriend, plastered on the gigantic screen that usually showcased the live feeds of the drivers during the race. his eyes widen the size of saucers. he could hear crofty comment on how the deer was probably seeking out the wild bunnies in order to make friends. but, from his pov, he could see you still and unmoving, probably analyzing the rabbits and taking mental notes. 

he quickly excuses himself, ignoring the questionable glances from the rest of the engineers and lewis, and rushes out the door towards the track. 

when he nears your area, he lets out clicking sounds with his tongue- three short and two long- a secret code you both had devised when you first started dating. 

you immediately lift your head and come prancing towards him, letting at a little bleat when you see the wide grin splitting his face. 

the meeting is all but forgotten when you both find yourself in george’s drivers room. you are sitting on george’s lap, lips a little bruised and hair messy after sharing a few heated kisses. 

“care to tell me why you were literally on track during my meeting?” he asks teasingly. “lewis did say you should explore the paddock, but not the grass two inches away from the track!”

you roll your eyes, and explain what went down after he left with lewis. his brow furrows more and more as you continue to describe how some reporters chased you down. 

his mood shifts quickly to furious. “i am taking this to the GPDA. this is unacceptable behavior towards anyone, much less my own girlfriend!” 

you place a hand on his chest, calming him down. “it’s okay, georgie. i understand they were just trying to do their job and get content- it’s just that they were a bit harsh, that’s all.” 

he nods, but doesn’t stop looking concerned for you. “you must still be so stressed and tired, love. i can give you a shoulder massage, how about that?” 

“a shoulder massage?” you ask, incredulously, “erm… sure.” you climb out of his lap and sit on the floor, while he places his hands onto your shoulders.

he rolls his thumbs into the sore muscles around your back, loosening them out. continuing up, kneading the tense tendons in the lower part of your neck.

you sigh in contentment, “mmm, that’s so good georgie!” when he brushes past a particularly achy part of your shoulder, you let out a groan. “a little harder,” you murmur, eyes closed in enjoyment.

at the worst time possible, you hear a loud knock on the door of george’s driver room trailer. 

“george, open up the goddamn door!” says someone in a german accent outside. “i literally hear your girlfriend’s voice in there! you better not better not be fucking when you should be in the meeting that you left half an hour ago!”

your eyes widen in surprise. “what the hell, george??? you left the meeting to come see me? why the hell did you do that?” you whisper-yell at him. 

before he can answer, the door slams open. 

toto peers in, only to see slightly sweaty george with messy hair, and a stunned-looking deer in front of him. 

“ermm… what is going on here?” he says, mouth in a frown and arms crossed. “why is the deer from turn 10 in your drivers room, george? are you a disney princess attracting all the wildlife or what?”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary

@mbappebby @madkohi @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks

[bunnys-kisses]

Hiiiiii can I please order French toast with vodka and martini with maxxxxxxxx

Thank you I am living for your writing!!!!!

bakery menu

want to order? look at the menu! we're always serving up smiles at the bunny bakery! we have a full-time staff (me) who makes sure your desserts are made with love and the drinks are poured to perfection!

french toast ("you're trying to make me jealous!") + vodka (rough sex) + martini (mafia au) served by max verstappen (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia au, mafia boss!max, references to violence, mean dom!max, smoking, non penetrative sex, sex toys & bondage

max knew how to throw a punch, it was one of the first things he felt like he learned in life. now, as the boss, he didn't punch as much as he thought he would've as a child. but when that lackey threw his arm around your shoulders and crowded your space. max wanted that guy's teeth stuck in his frontal lobe.

and you were just playing right into it. laughing at his jokes as he got closer, but you put your hand on his chest and gave a smile. you said something to him that max couldn't pick up due to the music in the club.

not that what you were saying even mattered, max wanted him dead. if he kissed you, max couldn't be responsible for what he would do. he briefly wondered how many teeth he could break with a single punch. he hissed through a tense jaw before he finished his gin and tonic and headed towards you.

the lackey, max couldn't even remember his name, looked up at max and smiled, "hey, boss." and gave the man a wave.

you looked away briefly as you sipped your vodka and cranberry.

max crossed his arms, he got the message loud and clear. the new guy didn't know who you were. or rather your relation to the family. he noticed that the engagement ring you wore was off your finger. oh, you were trying to cause a seen.

you little slut.

he looked at you and tilted his head, "i didn't know you were so comfortable with all ranks of the family, mrs. verstappen."

the lackey's eyes went wide as it all clicked together. he quickly pulled away from you and looked beyond shocked. he looked like he was going to piss himself. he stammered out, "i'm so sorry, boss. mister verstappen, boss, sir!"

max sighed and put his hands into the pockets of his slacks. the sleeves of his crisp button-up were rolled up, showing the strength of his arms. he said, "it's fine. i'll let this go, this time. as for you." he turned his attention to you. he snapped his fingers and pointed behind himself and the lackey was on his feet and out of sight.

you carefully took a sip of your drink, "what?" a defiant little thing. that was what max liked about you. he didn't want a submissive puppy for a fiancee. but it was however a double-edged sword.

he took the glass out of your hand and put it down on the glass table. he grabbed you by the wrist and showed you your hand, the absence of a ring was glaringly obvious.

"i didn't want to get it dirty."

"you're trying to make me jealous, mijn kleine slet." he said as he pulled you to your feet, "you can't be playing these games when we get married, acting out like a brat." his voice was tense and made your entire body feel flushed, "now let's get in the car and talk this out, like a couple."

max was once told that cigarettes tasted better if they were lit with a match instead of a lighter. the word "fresh" for a flame was thrown around, regardless max had to agree, cigarettes tasted better when lit with a match.

he was in his office chair, in the home you shared. he was leaned back in it with the unlit cigarette in his mouth. he took the box of matches off the solid wood desk and struck a light. he lit the cigarette before he shook the match dead. it and the box were put back on the table before he turned back to the exquisite, whorish woman he called a fiancee.

he leaned forward in his seat. took you a good while to get you tied up like that. the kind they had to use for the hogs. legs up and arms behind back. right in the center of your back was max's expensive crystal ashtray.

"break it." he said, "i'll throw you to the dogs." but you were barely listening and he knew it. after all when he got you onto the carpeted floor and bound, he slipped an impressive vibrator into your aching cunt. it was controlled by a remote which max had in his pants pocket. he took another inhale of the cigarette and looked at you.

those blue eyes were painfully pointed. he was predator that could see all, and you were the prey he got into a lovely trap. in all fairness, he was impressed that you could make him lose his cool like that.

he believed he had been conditioned so much that he wouldn't break a sweat when emotions for rocky. but you were under his skin like a splinter that he couldn't get out.

he didn't expect less from his future wife.

"you know what you did makes you a whore right? like the kind that walks around the red light district. you know, if you like the attention so much, i could get you a nice window right in the center of the area. make a hefty price." he nudged your shoulder with the front of his sleek shoes, "mafia boss' fiancee's fall from grace."

you kept your gaze on him, not like you could say anything. currently his tie was bound around your mouth. you weren't meant to talk, you were meant to stay there and listen.

with the cigarette in his mouth he said, "i would rather not have that. a boss' wife is supposed to have... grace, she isn't supposed to be letting underlings practically grope her." he exhaled, leaning forward to get it almost in your face, "would you consider yourself graceful, schat?"

you nodded your head. you felt the electricity in your body. you tensed up when he put his hand in his pocket and lowered the vibration setting. only to raise it again soon after. that was the trick with remote controlled toys, to keep the pace uneven and make whoever wearing it beg for more.

but you wouldn't be doing much begging tonight.

he nudged you against with his shoe and said, "don't lie to me." before he took another drag. the sight of him, a little warm and slightly disheveled. the cigarette hung loosely in his fingers. he was a dangerous man, he could easily have you killed.

but he'd never do that, he'd rather skin himself alive than have his beloved be dead. even if you were a brat, he still was going to make the oath to be with you for the rest of your days.

the pleasure from the toy was becoming overwhelming, you could almost feel the vibrations in the back of your head. you laid there tied up, and when max was done the cigarette, he leaned over and put it out in the ashtray you were keeping balanced on you.

he leaned back in his chair and looked at you. he said, "you look better like this. maybe next time i should give you a collar since you like to act like a bitch in heat." he propped his head against his fist as he leaned against the arm of the office chair.

you were a quivering mess, his harsh words shot to your core. he played with the controls once more and you were gasping around the tie in your mouth. the expensive material was getting ruined by your spit as you squirmed.

max thought he was being generous when he took the ashtray off your back and onto the desk. he knew you were going to come apart at the scenes at any moment.

he didn't want you to break something that cost more than your entire university tuition. he could see the tremble in your body, you were such a glutton for punishment.

you tried to speak around the tie in your mouth, but felt a curl in pressure in your gut. you had nothing to hold onto while the toy buzzed in your aching cunt. your toes curled as he watched you with careful eyes.

he was a bad man. there was a glint in his blue eyes as he watched you struggle. he wasn't even fucking you, but yet he had you on your knees. he had you whimpering with cloth in your mouth.

"pretty thing." he said softly, "see, i like you like this. not making me jealous." he reached over and patted your head softly. in such a juxtaposition to the pace of the toy.

he knew he wasn't exactly lying, he didn't want a submissive wife all the time nor, did he want a wife who was trying to make him jealous all the time.

you let out a whine as you arched your back and climaxed around the toy. your body tensed up, and a slight ache was in your muscles. you felt your heart pound in your chest as you came.

you went lax and pulled at the ropes that bound you. you pressed your forehead against the carpeted floor as you tried to settle down. you gasped when the vibrator was turned off. your breathing was in heavy pants as you relaxed.

max tapped the apple of your cheek when you looked at him once more. he said, "so perfect for me."

you tensed up when the knife came out from the desk drawer. max crouched next to you and got the knife through your binds. he also too his tie out of your mouth. he bundled you up in his arms on the carpeted floor of his office.

the weight of the toy inside of you made your stomach twist and when he slowly pulled it out of you. you thought you were going to cum again, especially when his thumb grazed up against your clit. he held you in his arms on the floor.

"are we done with these little games?" he asked.

you remained curled in his arms and let him rubbed your forehead gently, you said, "for now."

he chuckled, "of course, but be careful, schat. you may be my wife, but you are still human. with blood and all, and there would be many who would like to see that blood spilled."

you looked up at him and he kissed you on the lips. when he pulled away you smiled. you could feel your fiance's cock against your lower back. these silly little games you played, but max wouldn't have it any other way.

his beautiful future wife. <3

[pretty-little-mind33]

James Potter x half-blood fem!reader

Summary: You comfort your darling boyfriend after an overwhelming sight at your muggle grandparents' house.

Genre: hurt and comfort, fluffy, blurb

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of hunting, taxidermy animal head, crying, Jamie is sensitive <3

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You were beyond pissed at your parents.

You had told your mom, hoping she'd understand considering she was also raised in a sheltered pure-blood family, that James was sensitive and that he didn't have many experiences with muggles or muggle culture.

It hadn't crossed your mind to mention that your boyfriend was an animagus, or that he could turn into a stag, because why would you? You hadn't seen your muggle grandparents in a while, and you would have never imagined the new decor in their living room to be a taxidermy stag head in their living room!

Your grandparents don't even hunt!

"What's up his ass?" your oldest cousin asks smugly. He's standing next to you as he blows smoke from the corner of his mouth and he holds up his cigarette to his lips.

Your family had watched with pure confusion as your poor boyfriend sprinted outside, his complexion pale and his eyes watery. 

You cover your mouth, coughing from the smoke as you swat the air and your cheeks burn from embarrassment and anger. 

Without answering your cousin, you run to the entrance and shrug on your coat, grabbing James's as well. It's early October and it's chilly outside, you don't want James to catch a cold.

You slip on your boots and leap into the backyard, calling out for your boyfriend. "James!? Where are you?" you sound distraught as you look around for him frantically. 

You sprint into the woods behind the house, wondering if perhaps he'd disappeared there. When you see a shadow sitting in the grass not far into the trees, your heart breaks. 

"Oh, Jamie," you whisper and walk up to him. 

You kneel and drape his coat over his shoulders. Carefully, you sit next to him, holding him. "I'm so sorry. If I had known then I would have never—" you start, soothing a hand up and down his arms but your sentence quickly dies when James leans his head into your lap and you see tears roll down his reddened cheeks. 

"His eyes were so lifeless," he mutters, his voice broken. 

"I know, baby. I'm so sorry," you try and soothe, chewing on your lip. James moves his arms around you and sniffs a little. He sounds so weirdly vulnerable in your arms and it's so different from the James you usually see. 

Always so sure of himself. Always so brave. 

This reminds you of the few times you'd seen your boyfriend cry, but somehow this was still different. This time his tears made your chest hurt because you are partially to blame.

"I knew muggles have those in their houses sometimes. I mean, wizards and witches do too I think—I just didn't think I would see one," James continues and squeezes his eyes shut, "It just looked so dead." 

You smooth a hand in James's curls and press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm so sorry," you say, "I told them not to ruin this for me. I told them and they didn't listen. They don't even hunt, James. I don't know why they had that—"

James sniffs, sitting up, and wipes his hand under his nose. "It's okay, I'm being a baby. It isn't your fault and I don't think any less of your family."

You shake your head and cup his cheeks. "No, no, you're not a baby. You're a sweet, sensitive boy, and that's one of the reasons I love you so so much."

James chuckles and pushes some hair behind your ear, "So, you don't only love me for all my manly rugged charm?" he jokes, leaning his forehead on yours. 

You laugh. "Not only, no," you tease and look into his eyes. 

"Can I kiss you?" you ask. 

James's smile finally widens and he nods, letting you kiss his lips. It's sweet and calming and the only sounds around you are your lips on his and the birds in the trees. 

He pulls away and licks his lips, tasting the remnants of your cherry lip gloss. "Can we stay here for a moment longer before I do the inevitable walk of shame back to your house?" 

You caress his cheek. "We can stay here as long as you'd like. I don't wanna go back in there and face them all either."

And so, you and James stay outside until the sky turns pink and dim and you hear your parents concerned shouts of your name in the distance.

[attapullman]

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head. 

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action. 

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?" 

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester. 

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed. 

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg. 

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse. 

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily. 

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester. 

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!” 

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch. 

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house. 

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare? 

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face. 

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest. 

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe. 

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?” 

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself. 

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher. 

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder. 

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.” 

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you. 

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent. 

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good. 

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind. 

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right. 

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands. 

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses. 

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out. 

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light. 

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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[thetxtdevil]

The 'Girl' Friend

Huening Kai x Reader

summary: Kai turns envious of Taehyun's new friend, thinking she's his girlfriend. A turn of events happens when the 'girlfriend' finds Kai in a compromising position.

content: smut, friends to lovers?, fem.reader, masturbation, jerking off, slight fingering, penetration, just softness no hard stuff

word count: 1.7k

Kai and his friends have been doing game nights at the local bar every Fridays. At first it was just the five of them but then it became a bigger group. Kai is one to keep to himself so he comes alone appreciating the already big group that has been collected by the other members.

One Friday night all the boys arrive at the bar with additional company. The bar was modern yet woodsy, wood panels upon the walls with black furniture throughout the establishment it was cazy and fun. Music blasting getting guest excited for the night, Kai sits down placing the beer on the table looking at the night's trivia themes.

"Hey, Kai I have someone for you to meet" the familiar voice of Taehyun appears in the man's senses. Kai tilts his up looking completely astonished by this someone's beauty. "This is y/n"

Kai launches out of his chair to shake your hand but bumps the table making his drink spill everywhere. You three all gasp, you quickly reach for napkins to soak up the liquor.

"You're going to need another drink after that" you giggle.

The man couldn't speak, you were pretty and your voice was so enchanting. Tae was quick to catch on when he witnesses the two of you have a moment looking into each other's eyes. The rest of the night felt weird Kai couldn't stop laughing loudly at your joke and his eyes were glued to you. He felt like a creep.

---

Kai has a crush, ok maybe he has fallen for you. The problem is it seems you're taken because you were always hanging out with Taehyun. Yes, you would carry conversations with the other members of Kai's group but you and Tae seemed to be close. Your presence started with a regular occurrence to the game nights and then became very often when Taehyun welcomed you to the boys' house.

This gave Kai more chances to be with you. However, envy would rush through his veins every time you would hug, cuddle, or simply whisper to Tae. Taehyun smirks seeing his younger brother give him the death stare. You and him were nothing but friends but he liked seeing Kai get so worked up by your natural touchiness.

"Does Kai hate me or something?" you ask Taehyun.

"No, he just has a big crush on you." he says nonchalantly.

You roll your eyes and smack Tae on his chest not believing the man. Kai sees this playful manner between you two and pouts, face turning red with anger wanting small touches from you.

---

Days become weeks, weeks become months. Kai's crush on you hasn't faltered especially when you start appearing in his dreams. Small awkward conversations here and there but he was always around when you visited the house. He never took the chance to ask you out because the way you got close to Taehyun felt like he had no chance.

So, He admires you from afar, noting that you seem to be growing out your hair, watching as you twirl your hair in your dainty fingers. He has studied the facts that you like to drink water after you eat something sweets, which you do often, so when he watches your lips surround and swallow every pocky stick he gets up fixes himself and gives you a glass of water. You're surprised and look at the tall man with the most lovely smile. Kai about loses himself wanting to grab your face to kiss it, but he's civil and simply nods. You chuckle to yourself when you watch him awkwardly walking out of the living room leaving you with the rest of the boys.

You sat there, watching the condensation drip down the cup Kai gave you. Where did that man run off to? You ask yourself, Kai tends to spend the whole time you spent with Tae. He never flirted with you like the other boys but you couldn't help but think his presence and small giggles so warm.

"I'm going to the bathroom, you can continue the game without me." you tell Taehyun and he simply nods too fixated with the television.

Did you really need to use the bathroom? No, your nosiness got the better of you, so badly wanting to know where that beautiful boy has gone. You had never been to any of the mens' rooms other than Taehyun's, but you as you walk down the hall your ears catch a suspicious sound. The door was thoughtlessly cracked open letting small sounds leave what you assumed to be Kai's room. Standing closer the sounds were as clear as day making your face red. Drawn out moans and gasps came from the man. Pushing further into the entrance of the room you were a little jealous of a possible partner Kai was with. You crack the door to hear "ah- y/n" he was touching himself.

Your jaw drops to the floor seeing his family jewels fully erected and exposed. Kai laid there in his bed, luscious dark hair spread out as his head tilted into the pillows, eyes squeezed shut mouth gaped from pleasure. The more you look at the beautiful man fisting his cock the more you felt heated, all you wanted to do is to help him.

Without your conscious consent you blurt "Kai..."

The man stopped his movement face flushed as he looks up to you with your hand on your mouth. He didn't know how to feel see you satisfying himself and obviously think about you. Angry? Embarrassed? Pleased? It was like as if time stopped, you two stared at each other contemplating the next move.

"I-i am so sorry, I just," your gut didn't want to apologize you really wanted to just go ahead and pleasure him yourself. Kai sits up and starts to fix himself to hide, "No.." Kai stops and looks at you confused "I want to see you if you let me."

"Aren't you with Taehyun?"

Your face contorts "No we're just friends, besides he know that you like me.."

Kai's face gets pinker the more you talk, avoiding eye contact. After a moment he lets out his thoughts, "and, what are your thoughts?"

"Thoughts? uh- I honestly didn't believe him until... now" you look at him with a hint of desire in your eyes. It was true how can a pretty boy like him be into you, but seeing Kai like he was moaning your name was a big falter on your doubts. You crawl on his bed getting closer to the man, he was hesitant at first but gives in.

"I like you Kai" you say with a small smile.

Kai's chest wells up feeling like he was dreaming "Y-you do?"

You hum while nodding your head "I think your really nice, and handsome, and now I now you look good in other places." A soft chuckle leaves the mans lips, "Can I end my apology by helping you out?"

All embarrassment aside, you hover over Kai one hand keeping you up while the other hand starts palming his dick. Kai groans, what a fast turn of events, he was just dreaming about you doing this, is he still dreaming?

"Can I kiss you?" Kai nods, puppy dog eyes staring straight into your soul.

You lean in for Kai to deepen the kiss, both of you excited to feel each other up. Your hands find their way under the poorly situated briefs finally touch the man's beautiful dick. Slowly moving your thumb along his wet slit moving down to outline the shaft. Kai moans trying to stop himself from cursing, but he felt so good. You start to move your hands faster pumping his dick making the man fall into his bed. Your lips kiss against his long neck listening to his sensual melodies. Bucking his hips it wasn't long until he came in his briefs and on your hand.

Kai stares at you with a grin on your face leaning back on his bed. You look at the mess he made sticking your tongue out to lap it up. "So, what fantasies do you have of me?"

Kai tilts his head to look at you, you were now lying comfortably on the vacant side of his bed. The man now makes himself hovering of you, chest against your plush mounds, his big hands engulfed your face pecking your lips. "I fantasize having you" he says in a low voice, growing the ache between your legs. You grab at his shirt trying to tear away his layers off but before he complies he gets up to lock the door. Both giggling at the fact that was the reason you two were in this situation. Articles of clothing throw everywhere in the room, Kai kneels between your legs.

The sight before him was glorious, your tits slumped yet nipples perked and your legs spread showing of your glistening pussy. He licks his lips fingers brushing against the damp flesh. The soft touches rouses you clenching around nothing. Sighs filled the room, now Kai was the one enjoying your melodies and they way you moved your body closer to him. With a light please, Kai pumps his dick lining it up to your waiting entrance.

Slowly pushing in stretching your walls until you whine out of fear it won't fit. Kai pecks your lips ensuring you that it will and slowly but surly he bottoms out. Staying still for a moment to get you used to the burning sensation, he begins to thrust. Your hands grip his biceps groaning at the pleasure, his tip found its way to a sweet spot making your nails dig into his skin. Kai watched as your face contorted with brows peaking and mouth gapped wide moaning so addictively. Pride filled the man knowing that you're like this because of him.

Kai advances his dick into you creating heat building up in your body. His staggered thrust was a clear sign of his climax. Thumb brushing your clit and a twitch of his dick had you both come unraveling. Kai falls down beside you panting, you reach for his hand to hold cuddling there in peace. He watches your eyes flutter and chest slowing its movements, elated with the state of bliss. Envy of not having you was washed away from the man, but the jealous rage may soon follow the next time he sees you with his 'guy' friends.

A nuisance,

TxT's Devil

read more from: Jealous/Envy TXT Masterlist

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling, @incogrio, @f4iryfever

[leoascendente]

PAC / Details about the love of your life 💕

I'm back my lovesss! 💖 I'm late with this pac as always but I have to be a responsible adult too. As always with love spreads I try to write with no gender, I always talk about dominant energy of your FS. Take a cup of tea cause this is a long spread

Decks I used: Enchanted love tarot, dark wood tarot, astrodices, romance angels oracle, love oracle cards, goddess guidance oracle and the hidden truth oracle.

Take a deep breath and choose the pile you feel more drawn to, you can choose more than 1 if you feel it, maybe you have more messages in more piles. Take always what resonates and leave the rest

For private readings click here

I love you 🥰

Pile 1:

Your FS in the relationship:

(Cards: Express your love, true love/ honeymoon)

Omg pile 1 your fs is going to love you so so much you will never doubt their feelings! They will want to make sure you know how important you are for them in every moment, your FS is very loving and caring. The whole spread repeats travel and movement, so you may live in very distanced places from the other or you may travel to new places together to spend quality time by eachother's side, in another sense it could mean that your fs will make you feel like you live in an endless honeymoon. Their love language is majorly about quality time together and words of affirmation, they might have a talent with words and they write letters to you very often, their voice has something special too. I see an specific situation of someone leaving post it everywhere with cute quotes on them telling you how much they love you and things like that. From the very first moment you meet both of you will feel something special like you are the kind of person they've been yearning for and viceversa, if you are an intuitive person somehow you'll know it's them, the feeling when you meet and spend time with them won't be a spark shining within, it's a thunder like no other. They'll probably show their love and interest in you pretty fast, they will be straight forward with you letting you know they want to make you part of their life and include you in their plans. I see clearly that good humor and laugh will be present in all your meetings, your fs loves your smiles and hear you laugh so surely they will be joking all around just to rip an smile of your face.

Their personality and traits:

(Cards: 10 of roses; princess of shells; 6 of gems; king of roses // Astrodices: Sagittarius; north node; 2nd house)

Mmmmmm this person is really sexy, they are very physically attractive and has nice facial features, probably the kind that catches everybody's eye when they walk in a room, they also has a confident body language. I feel they are very sexually active people or has a high libido but prefers to be generous with their partner in bed over focusing on their own pleasure, so they will make sure you are having a good time with them everytime you have intimacy, there will be a lot of sexual chemistry and tension between you two, you FS will like to tease you because they will feel so so attracted to you like you had a magnet just for them, they will make you touch the stars, babe! (my scorpio lilith feels very happy for you right now 😏 ). I see your person has a generous and humble nature, they laugh a lot and loves to cuddle, they are very hardworking so they can provide their beloved ones and live a comfortable life, they really enjoy giving to others because generosity is always repeating in my head while I channel for you. Very masculine energy but a little imbalanced because they like to over work, they love their work and that's why they dedicate so much attention to it, it's probably because they are following their true passion or their job is a dream come true, their job might also involve traveling. They are very successful at their job or studies as well even though they want more, not just gor ambition but for the chamce to learn more and improve their skills because they know their true potential. They are well respected and looks like someone nice and kind with everybody, they have a very warm energy even though they can look intimidating (this might be because of their physical appearance because I keep hearing about the "big boy" tiktok trend), do you know this astrology pictures that says looks like they could kill you on the outside, is a cinnamon roll on the inside, well, this is probably the best way to describe your fs. They like to make a safe space for you to feel comfortable, your person enjoys so much more to give than to receive in every aspect of their life, they will value a lot the time you spend with them and will see you as their equal, someone they can open up and show their vulnerable side so they will expect the same trust from you. They are passionate and follow their heart in everything they do, even if that means making mistakes they are willing to learn and grow, they are also very wise like the counselor of their family or group of friends, they surely gives great advices.

You two were meant to find eachother and create a life together, this is a major connection, the love of a lifetime for sure! For some, there might be an age gap between you two but you will fit at emotional level, you probably will share the same view of the future and both perspectives fit perfectly, you two will be best friends, partners in crime and the love of eachother's life, very supportive of eachother. Your FS is really funny and have a very chill energy, the kind that ends up being the center of attention without trying, they will make you laugh until your tummy hurts, if you go out with more people your person will keep always close to you making everybody knows that you are with them, a little possesive but it's because they want to protect what they love and they will love you so much, their body language is very protective over you. I see the sun and the moon in my head so I feel that you two will be opposite but at the same time very similar, your person feels like the sun with their warm energy but from your side I feel the moon with the calmer and peaceful energy, you might also be in tune with your intuition or your psychic gifts, this will be a very balanced relationship.

Conflictive traits:

(Cards: 4 of swords; king of pentacles; wheel of fortune rev / queen of cups)

Well, your person might give too much importance to money and resources and that keeps them always wanting to earn more and never rest, they might value themselves because of the money they gain or their productivity at work, for some I see that your person is struggling with a goal they really desire but never come true and that keeps them in a state of self judgement. They are aware of their negative traits and knows that some things needs to chage to feel better within themselves but this takes a lot of effort to them and might avoid it by overworking, work might be also a way of escapism because this insatisfaction is about themselves not their work development, maybe it's something about feeling respected by the rest of the world. They realize that money isn't everything in life but this trait may come from their childhood and they are just trying to cope and deal with it the best they can, at least they are conscious about it and want to solve it even if they don't have the tools right now to do it. Looks like they are in a conflictive cycle where they have seen a repetitive pattern, something like a bad habit in their life that they want to chage somehow, but change seems difficult for them. I see your person is trying to get answers of some kind to their inner conflicts, I see them asking why some things had to happen to them and maybe realizing they created some of the storms they had to face in life. In my opinion, this is very healthy for them, I mean, taking responsabilities for our actions is pretty mature, they want to become a better person for when they know you and for their wellbeing, for some I see even some kind of spiritual awakening or them trying any kind of therapy.

How they will view you in the relationship:

(Cards: paradise; passion/ kisses)

Their other half they didn't know was missing

Ahem... Just read the cards and let your imagination fly a little. For your FS, you are going to be the one and only they've been looking for their whole life, they are going to see you as the answer to their prayers and loneliness, their perfect match, that'swhy they are not going to hesitate when they know you. You are going to help them somehow to deal with things that are hard for them and viceversa, there will be a lot of trust to open up but just with eachother (I heard something about internal jokes between both too). You two are a power couple, always lifting eachother and helping to become the better version of yourselves, cheering eachother's victories and giving comfort on the defeats. You will want to build a life together as partners respecting the other's free will, there's a lot of understanding, partnership and respect from this pile. Congrats pile 1, this is a very healthy love story and I feel you needed this kind of relationship to gain back the hope in love. Also, expect a lot of passion and intimacy.

Advice from the Goddesses:

(Cards: Sekhmet, be strong/ Green Tara, start delegating)

I feel you've been waiting and longing your person a really long time, you've also commited to work on yourself meanwhile but there's a little feeling of exasperation because you have done all that's needed to attract them without forcing any situation, but I know... patience also has its limit and you might be feeling like they are going to take too much time to come into your life. Sekhmet reminds you to not loose hope, divine things come in divine timing and the kind of love you crave for is very lighthearted and pure one so it's normal it's taking the a little more time. Green Tara tells you to be more in touch with your spirituality, your guides want you to speak to them so they can know how you want them to help you, don't feel bad about asking for your FS because your guides want you to reach all your goals, if a romantic relationship is one of your goals don't be scared to ask for it too.

Extra messages:

Twin flames journey; soul mission; earth rising; beach or places with water bodies; success; gold jewelry; white butterflies and dragonflies; someone famous or fame in general, fire signs; until I found you-stephen sanchez; begin again- taylor swift

Pile 2:

Your FS in the relationship:

(Cards: worth waiting for; you deserve love; wedding)

Your FS is a very straight forward but methodical person, when they want something they do everything at their hand to get it, calculating every step of the road to their goals. Despite of your FS personality, I see that you will make them work hard to prove they are worthy of your time and energy, and babe, they are going to be above your expectations. Your person will be very patient in the process of reaching your heart, they know you are worthy of the effort and the wait so they don't mind because for them it's only you and nobody else. Your person is super polite and have very good manners, if it's a male they are truly a gentleman. They might have a more traditional perspective of life but this will make them want to commit with you sooner and don't waste any moment, probably they will be ready for a formal relationship before you are. But anyway, this person will respect your times until you are ready for moving forward but for them, they will want everything with you after knowing you, not just by the physical but also your personality. This relationship will end up in marriage if you are up to it but if not this will be a very commited relationship, you will only have eyes for eachother, they have a vibe like worshipping you tbh.

For some there's the message that your FS might take a little time to arrive in your life, it might be a proof of patience for you but it will be worthy. You fs will enter in your life after a time of healing yourself, I hear that the most important lesson for you is to put yourself first and love you deeply because the love you give to yourself is the love you are going to attract, make sure it's quality love because that's the kind of love you deserve. Treat yourself like the god/goddess you are because that'sthe way your fs will treat you. Idk why but for some I feel that you already know who your person is, you are just focusing on what you have to do for yourself meanwhile.

Their personality and traits:

(Cards: High priestess; the lovers; the devil; queen of roses; the chariot/ Astrodices: Capricorn; mercury; 5th house)

OMGGGG I wish this pile was for me!😂 This energy feels masculine (but you know it's neutral gender) but darnnnnn this person is a gentleman in every sense of the word, so respectful and so polite, they will treat you like their muse and the source of their inspiration. When this person falls in love they do it hard and forever, they might be a little possesive or obsessive about you but it's because somehow you know how to lift them up in a way nobody else can and they have never experienced what they feel for you. There's a lot of attraction between you two but your person will be amazed by you, I see you a little more cold and your person trying to get closer to you everytime they can, maybe at first you reject them even though you'll feel very attracted to them but this might have to be with you because you prefer to take your time to really know them instead of jumping blindly into the unknown. They will love you deeply because that's their way of loving but they will also love to (i'm having a really hard time to avoid this been sexual but... your person is ahem... very horny for you) you have something that drives your person crazy for you, they might tell you that you have a spell on them very often. They are someone really mature even though they can be a young person, they like to take responsability of their life, I feel a traditional vibe from them so they might like to take the provider role in the relationship, they are very into creating a family with their dream partner and this is you. Their love language is mostly material and physical touch, after you let them get close they will never get tired of touching and hugging you, everything you ask for they will put it in your hands, they want to fulfill all your desires but also make your life so much easier and confortable, they also have a foresight eye to the things you might need and they'll put it in your hands even before you tell them. They are wealthy people and probably it shows easily by the way they dress, they might like brand clothes or wears any kind of expensive jewelry, I hear something about perfume so they surely will smell like heaven, they have an intimidating cold look on the outside wkth the rest of the world but they will be such a teddy bear with you showing you a part of themselves they keep hidden because they feel safe with you, they will want to cuddle and hug you always, very into pda too.

Conflictive traits:

(Cards: king of wands; 7of pentacles rev / 8 of cups)

They are not the sentimental type of person, they are more into the logic of things and processing situations through the lens of intellect. They are very intelligent but can also seem cold and dittached at first, but let me tell you, althought their coldness they are easily hurt and they've been very damaged in their past, they just deal with their pain in silence so they might demand some alone time to clear their mind when they have an stressful situation. Even if they don't show their emotions openly, they will tell you about what's going on in their mind for you to understand them better, they will feel comfortable enough with you to open up and tell you about what's going on their mind, they do this with you because they will really appreciate and value your opinion and advice, so they will want to know you point of view about things. They might deal with loneliness and feeling misunderstood by people, they don't seem the extrovert kind even though they have good social skills but mainly when it comes to their work not so much in social situations, or it could mean as well that their job position is something that makes them feel more confident to deal with other people, power and authority is something important for your person to feel safe. They are a little hopeless about their current life and they are just going with the flow waiting for things to get better, this is mostly with their personal life and close relationships. They are not violent at all but they have an strong temper, that's why they need space when angry to avoid saying things they regret later. For some, your fs might have some kind of neurodivergency.

How they will view you:

(Cards: talking; lightning / wedding rings)

Their hope back in life

They'll see you as their divine counterpart, like heaven has put you in their way for some reason, they will want to talk with you for days if they could, your mind and intellect is something that will have them in awe. If you are into spirituality they will also fall in love with you for this, like you give the hope in life they could be missing because of their terrenal and logical mind. You will shake their heart and mind and open to them a whole new world of opportunities. You give them the safe place they were needing and maybe that's the reason why they will have that possesive attitude (I wrote about possesiveness here instead on their difficult traits because I don't feel it as negative but more like a child scared of loosing something they really appreciate, probably has abandonment issues or as I said, some kind of neurodivergency). They will make you know clearly that you are the love of their life and wants to spend all their days with you, they will talk about commitment soon and for some they will tell you they want to marry you soon too.

Advice from the Goddesses:

(Cards: Oonahg, easy does it / Sehkmet, be strong)

You might be going through a rough time in your life, this may be a turbulent period but you know that's making you develop new skills and polish the ones you already have. Growth and evolution is important for you now, attending yourself and your deepest needs to build the life you want to live. Focus on creating the life you want besides romance, analyze the future you want for yourself exclusively and the goals you want to achieve, I feel this mostly related to your career so try to connect with your ambitions in this aspect and start building that dream life you deserve. Your person will come in the perfect moment, meanwhile make sure you release anything no longer serving your purpose.

Extra messages:

Unchained melody- elvis presley; rule the wold- take that; 1331; 333; something great will happen in May; repeated numbers are major signs so look for their meaning; moths or bats, nocturnal creatures; purple and crimson.

Pile 3:

Your FS in the relationship:

(Cards: getting to know eachother; religious factors / Calling in your soulmate)

If you are working with visualization, manifesting or attraction law be very specific with your desires about love because you definetely manifested your fs. This relationship will be progressively growing at the time you know better eachother, through that time you'll realize that they are your person but at first, I see that you'll start up as friends and then everything will flow and you'll se how this person has everything you've been asking for in a partner and has all the traits you wanted to attract. You two will fit like puzzle pieces, balance is the word that repeats in my mind when I channel, if you resonate with twin flame journey this person for sure will be your twin flame. They are just made for you and you for them, the connection you two will share will feel magical for both and anyone who knows you, like the heaven has just opened up for you two when you spend time together and everybody can see how you were meant for eachother. Your fs would do anything for you and your happiness and you would do it for them too, you are eachothers' best friend, there's complicity and trust above all in your relationship. For some you might already know your person but right now is not an interest of yours, maybe you have seen eachother but haven't talked yet, is someone that if you see them you know about their existence but is not someone close to you, maybe a friend of a friend or an school classmate you forgot a long time ago.

Their personality and traits:

(Cards: the star rev, the empress, the magician, princess of roses, 2 of wings / astrodices: libra, saturn, 10th house)

You FS has big boss vibes, they surely are very successful in their career or comes from a wealthy enviroment, it probably shows because they have a sofisticated and elegant look, they are very nice and well liked by the people who knows them. I hear something about family bussiness so they might work with their family or has a high position in their family circle, their job might be related to laws or arts, they could be interested in these themes too. They are very charming and seductive, their appearence is also very attractive and likes to take care of themselves and their looks, they probably have many admirers but your FS seems to reject every option by the fear of being used for what they have, your fs is looking for deep conections but is a little scared about not being reciprocated in their feelings or face dishonest people. They are very focused on their work and succeding on their field, they want to be valued and recognized because of their good skills, they are so goal oriented that they might spend a lot of time alone, for some is self imposed isolation. If this drive is not related to their career can mean that your fs is currently working on themselves, their growth and evolution in a more psychological way. They probably had a heavy dissapointment in their life that made them focus on what they could do for themselves, they have been improving themselves and evolving to become their best version, they are healing their inner self and solving emotional issues. They are very independent people, they prefer to invest their energies into something useful, I don't see they are too social people they look like they love their own company and doing things for themselves, they surely have more fun watching a sunset on the beach than going to parties.

You FS will have very romantic gestures when they know you, they like to do things in the big way for you, they want to leave a good impression on you from the first moment, they will want you to like them and they cam seem a little clumsy because they are nervous. For some, the first stages of your relationship there could be some distance, maybe your person lives far from you or they have to travel often, maybe their job requires big amounts of time. Anyway, everytime you spend time together it will feel so intimate and unique, it will be only you two like the world around you has just turned off. Theres a lot of romance but in a peaceful energy, like you could read eachother's mind so you could stay in silence for hours staring and would feel great because you are together and you understand eachother. Communication is the major love language of your person, for them is important to share an intellectual connection and feel safe enough to express their opinions.

In some cases I see that there will be some oppositors to your relationship, so be careful of the people you ask for advice because there's one that doesn't enjoy your happiness.

Difficult traits:

(Cards: queen of wands rev, the sun, 3 of swords rev/ the temperance)

Don't expect them to be a super spontaneous person, if you are into adventures and going out of the routine you might be the one in charge of those kind of plans because they are more into more relaxed plans. Your person seem to reject their oportunities of having fun, it feels like they don't think they are ready to deal with other humans or social interactions, they prefer their solitude for the peace and balance it gives them, but that can turn into hermit mode too. They deal with self steem issues and weak boundaries, that made them had heavy heart breaks in their past so they can be suspicious of other people's intentions, they have a hard time trusting. They jump from sorrow and despair to hope and tears of joy, probably has a hard time making important decitions for their personal life. Anyway your person is working on inner personal issues that were holding them back, mostly related to their indecisiveness or constant doubts. I saw the image of someone praying with tattoos on their back, it's a familiar image but I have no idea where I've seen it, so that's a confirmation that you have already met your fs in the 3d but don't know who they are right now. Also the thing about praying combined with temperance is interesting, they are surely working on theirselves and healing inner wounds, they are very close to spirituality somehow, this also could mean that they have a close connection with their guides or their guides are very protective of them. They avoid conflict and arguments to avoid hurting others but forget about the things that hurt them, in general they are very reliable people but they tend to daydream a lot and get lost in their delusions sometimes.

How they'll view you:

(Cards: separation, the dragonfly, healing heart)

Their peace of soul

The time you spend apart will be very heavy to deal with for your FS, they will miss you a lot and will have to deal with some emotional issues they didn't know they had related to romantic relationships and the way they face it. Distance will also make them realize that you are trustworthy and they can just relax and stop worrying, they'll see their own wounds instead of projecting them into you, and honestly, that's such a healthy behavior from them, I see they are very emotinally intelligent and mature. I feel you are a very honest and straight forward person when it comes to your opinions, you are open about your thoughts and feelings and even more when it comes to your fs and your relationship, this trait about you will make them feel a lot more comfortable because they see you don't wear any mask and they are used to people that wears them all the time, they will see they can trust you and that's very important for them. Distance will also be very healing for you, giving you the time and space needed to fully trust and know how your person is too, you two will be devoted to eachother so there won't be place for doubts or worries. This relationship might be a little slow to formalize but it feels so so healthy and emotionally mature from both of you .

Advice from the Goddesses:

(Cards: Sige, quiet time; Sedna, infinite supply)

Take more time to rest, my love, you have been dealing with a lot of draining situations and your mind, soul and body are needing a little break from responsabilities. Take also a few minutes to meditate and tune with your inner voice, slow down the rythm for a while because you will thank it later. If money has been an issue for you lately, you can stop worrying, you will have the enough resources, maybe not for all that you want but your needs will be all fullfilled. Thank also the little basic needs you have supplied like a roof over your head, warm blankets to keep away the cold, food to nurture your body... you'll start realizing how abundant and blessed you are, gratitude is the best key to feeling satisfied with our lives meanwhile what we want arrives.

Extra messages:

Here with me- d4vid; red roses; wear warm colors more often; solar plexus chakra; working out routine, 1221; 777; 444; healing limitating beliefs; when we were young- adele

Pile 4:

Your FS in the relationship:

(Cards: free yourself; attraction/ children)

Your fs will fall in love with your true self, you can be fully yourself with them without feeling judged or misunderstood, they will accept and honor even the things you don't like about you, they want to see you shine and they will be willing to ignite the spark within you. Your person is really nice and funny, they will always try to lift you up and your mood, they'll make you believe that no matter what happens they will always be by your side, somehow they make you feel like the world is a beautiful place and you came here to have fun and not fear. They'll take out your inner child to play with theirs and do together all the things you wanted to do as kids and never did, you'll heal eachother without even knowing. Your fs will make you feel like you are home and you'll make them feel the same way, they want to charm you and make you know they are into you above the physical, they want you to trust them and they will work to show you they are trustworthy. I see they see you as a mystery, they'll feel so attracted to you that they will want to dig more and know you better, they will always want to know more about you and never get tired of it, for them there's always something new and amazing about you they want to discover. Children is something important, maybe because any of you already have kids or maybe you know eachother since childhood.

Their personality and traits:

(Cards: 7 of shells rev; the magician; ace of wings; ace of roses; the world/ Astrodices: aquarius; the sun; 2nd house)

There are so many number 1 in your spread and I'm writing this at 11:01. Your fs has leader personality but they have their own way of doing things, they might look a little outcast when you look from the outside but they have all their pieces together and knows exactly what they want and what they are doing, even if it's not what people expect from them. They could be a public figure or being in the public eye often, they are also very creative so their job might involve some fame, idk what it is but they can have an artistic career like music or photography, it will be different for all of you. They look like they get along well with everybody and people like them at the moment they know your fs, maybe that's why they'll be chasing you so much, because you don't get easilly impressed by their charms but they seem focused into conquering you (with good intentions, ovbiously) . Your fs is very nice and has an amazing sense of humor, I see people tend to follow them easily because of their confident attitude but they look very individualistic and independent, anyway, they know their charms and how to make use of them. They are very charismatic people but a free spirit, they won't settle for less they know they deserve when it comes to other people's demands, they will respect an opinion but at the end they will do what the heart tells them in the moment.

They have very good social skills and are also very intelligent people, they have an smart and witty sense of humor, they are surely sharp with words and will try to rip a smile of your face everytime they can. Probably they are very physically attractive too, to be specific there's something special about their smile, so they are used to get always what they want, I feel your fs have been a player in their past or they have a flirty way to talk. They have a rebel and confident personality but they are also sttuborn as hell when it comes to what they want, they are also very optimistic about life even if their hopes seems delusional, they have very big goals for their life and are completely focused into achieving it. They want to have an epic life, to live plenty without regreting about what they didn't do, they prefer to aks for forgiveness than for permission even if sounds risky, life is their canvas and their are willing to make a work of art. They want to do something great and be remembered for that, they want to leave a nice print of their existence in the world, if they are going to dream they make sure it's a big dream. They really don't care about what people say or think about them, they are good with themselves and that's enough.

Difficult traits:

(Cards: strength, ace of wands, 8 of pentacles/ queen of swords)

They are the kind of people that wants to win at all cost, competitive and a little cold hearted when it comes to win the prize, they want what they want and hardly accept a no as answer, they are also sttuborn and maybe a little childish when things don't go their way. Maybe it's for some kind of compelx within them but they are really prideful in the good and the bad way, pride for sure is something your person should work on because it might lead them to take some bad decitions. They seem like the kind of actions first and thinking later, they tend to overthink their mistakes and use their work as a way of escape from their problems. They are ambitious to extremes, mostly when it comes with their career and future and not for money, it's for the power it gives them and maybe a little to slap people who understimate them, again related to pride. Honestly, they look like the villain everybody likes, a rebel with a cause.

How they'll view you:

(Cards: the phoenix, I like you, girl talk/ the sword and the rose)

Their reason to believe in magic

You know this meme of homer simpson slowly hiding into a bush?? Well, I had that image in my mind all time while I was writting this. I feel at first you won't be into your fs at all and that rejection is what's going to make your fs chase after you, they might not be used to being rejected, but for you they probably look a little cringy on your first interactions, or at least, you are going to percieve them this way. This is very like enemies to lovers energy tbh, I feel that you both will realize how much you care about eachother after a while, friends will have a lot to do with this realization. Your fs wil be very protective and defensive with you, also you with them, people better treat you respectfully or your fs will jump over them to protect your honor and wellbeing. Your group of friends will be important, for many of you I see you share the same group and they will realize before you two that maybe that rejection you were feeling is turning into attraction, even if you don't want to admit this connection you two will develop you know denial is a river in Egypt and at the end you will stop pushing them away and accepting your feelings because there's an indeniable, true and strong connection between both

Your fs will be the one to make the first step into something more, making you know they are really interested into create a formal relationship with you. They like you and will show it purposely by teasing you and create a more intimate bond outside your group of friends, to make you see they have deep and true feelings for you. I see you have really good friends that love you deeply and wants to see you happy, don't hesitate to ask them their opinion about the situation because they will give you a great guidance through the process.

Advice from the Goddesses:

(Cards: Guinevere, true love/ Abundantia, prosperity)

Oooh this message is so lovely 🤭. Your fs is the one you will build an empire of success with, I see two people putting bricks together to build a castle where they'll live happily. How can I turn into words what cards say so clearly? Don't worry about nothing, just enjoy your life because you are destined to have the greatest love story of all times, you are going to be very happy but also very wealthy, money won't be a problem anymore. Your fs and you could build up a bussiness together that will bring you both a lot of success and wealth in the future, so be thankful for what you have now because it will only become more and better.

Extra messages:

Chocolate or candy; 1010; 111; carry an amethyst with you; upcoming blessings; angelic guidance; wings tattoo?; lavender scent; 3rd eye chakra; lucky girl syndrome; I love you- billie eilish; life of the party- shawn mendes.

 © Leo ascendente

[moonstruckme]

I used to be a camp counselor and I just know James is the exact kind of guy the little kids would fight to sit next to at activities. And! He tells the most dramatic campfire stories

Hi! I realize this wasn't really a request but it gave me an idea, so thank you lovely!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 751 words

“Then,” James says in a low, solemn voice, “Timmy heard the monster getting louder. Do you know what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?” 

All around you, campers sit with bated breath. When the last counselor to go had told her story, they’d all been whispering to each other, giggling and messing around as they tend to do whenever anyone is speaking. Anyone except James, apparently. 

“Timmy ran to the only place left to hide.” He walks slowly around the logs you and the kids sit on as he talks, the orange glow of the fire casting his face in a merry hue despite his foreboding tone. You can tell he’s trying his best to play the part, and James isn’t the worst actor in the world, but anytime he looks at one of the kids’ faces the twitching of his lips betrays him. 

He crouches next to an apprehensive-looking girl and says to her, “He squeezed into the closet in the basement and made himself as small as he could. Just like that.” James pokes the girl’s curled up form teasingly, drawing a smile out of her. His lips twitch again. 

“For a minute,” he stands, beginning to circle again, “it was quiet. Then, Timmy heard the monster coming down the stairs.” James stomps his feet on the dirt, making dull thudding sounds that have you smiling and your camper next to you gripping your arm apprehensively. “The monster got closer and closer. Timmy was trapped.” 

James is nearly behind you, and the girl holding your arm whispers, “Does the monster live close to here?” 

“No, no.” You keep your voice low, bending your head towards hers with your most reassuring smile. “This monster’s all the way in Florida. Don’t worry.” 

“And when Timmy could hear the monster’s breath just outside the closet,” James goes on, though you’re not really paying attention, more focussed on comforting the poor girl beside you, “it asked again, Do you KNOW—” His voice rises to a shout, and big hands grab your waist, making you squeak loudly. James’ hold is the only thing that keeps you from flinching fully out of your seat, and you can hear him snickering quietly behind you as the kids erupt in laughter. 

“Do you know,” he tries again, amusement coating his tone, “what I do with my giant red mouth and my long purple fingers?” 

He lowers himself onto his haunches, speaking to the girl next to you. “And do you want to guess what Timmy said?” he asks her, both hands still on your waist. 

She shakes her head, giggling. 

“Well, he said no, obviously.” James grins as if this is a joke you’re all in on together. “How would he know? So the monster said, I’ll show you.” 

James gives your waist a teasing squeeze as he lets you go, but his face smooths into seriousness again, one hand coming slowly up to his mouth. The kids near you are craning their necks to see him. 

Lightning quick, James sticks a finger in front of his lips, flapping up and down as he blows out and makes a vibrating sound. 

The silence breaks as the kids either laugh or boo or a mix of both, one of James’ campers shouting, “That wasn’t even scary!” 

“It was too!” James feigns offense, setting a hand on your head and banding his forearm across your collar protectively. “Don’t say that, you’ll make y/n feel bad. Poor love,” he says sympathetically, resting his head on your shoulder, “she was really terrified.” 

“Did you pee yourself?” one of the campers near you asks. You turn to her, making a silly face. 

“I think maybe a little,” you whisper loudly, causing the kids to devolve into giggles again. 

“Oh, ew.” James makes a show of removing his hands from you and wiping them on the back of your shirt. The campers eat it up, your small clearing in the woods a cacophony of laughter and cricket sounds. You catch some of the other counselors rolling their eyes, some exchanging knowing smiles. 

“Well, I suppose that’s fair enough,” James goes on. “I nearly peed myself, too, when I thought you were going to fall off your log there.” He shoots you one of his winning smiles. “Good thing you had me to catch you, yeah?” 

You feel your face warm, and you’re grateful for the glow of the campfire as cover. “Mhm,” you say, “good thing.” 

[gremlingottoosilly]

Cabin in the woods (yan!slasher!Konig x fem!Reader x yan!slasher!Horangi) part 2

You listen to the story about those woods. Turns out, real life is way, way nastier than any of those stories. Don't lose your head.

TW for the chapter: Blood, gore, dead bodies, slut shaming(usage of outdated horror tropes), knife play, blood play, mentions of STDs

— Do you know what animal is this? 

The body of a small creature – rodent, probably, you don’t think there could be any other animals around – was lying on the road near the place you decided to stay for the night. The “Coolest fucking thing in the world that is also just a few hours from here” was still a few hours from here because it was fucking dark and you already left your car on the sidewalk, hoping no one would steal it because honestly, why would anyone need this pile of burning crap. 

— According to the “Basic Bestiary of Austrian Animals” it might be an extremely rare Austrian Marmont.

You fucking hated Max. Mostly because his form of being different was “being an intelligent asshole” and also because he would never forget to rub the fact you were behind him in the grades into your face. 

— Waaaaaaait, a mamont? But it’s small! You have to give Karen – blonde, tan, tall, straight C everywhere except for her chest (then it would be D everywhere) – credit. As adorably silly as she was, she was still the only person you could have a meaningful conversation with. Except for the times when she was fucking your boyfriends. Or when she forgot that you don’t have a boyfriend so he doesn’t need to fuck random people just to spite you.

— Perhaps, if we are extremely lucky, a European edible dormouse, also known as…

— Fuuuuuck, people eat this thing? Yuck! Austria is like, literally the worst country EVER!

You feel like every second of this conversation, even though you are just listening to it, is going to take 10 years from your life span. You never knew why the two got together – maybe because Max loved fucking someone dumber than he is, and Gretchen loved placing the responsibility for her actions on her beloved sociopathic boyfriend. 

You wanted to say that this was literally a fucking squirrel, but you know better. Not like anyone is going to listen anyway. 

You get to the supposed location a few hours – already deep in the night, everything that you hate about forests – unkept environment, horrible living conditions, mosquitos, and occasionally wild animals are making you squirm each time your butt switches the place and you involuntarily sit on the cold, damp ground. You lick your lips, trying to adjust in the position in front of the fire. Fire that you probably shouldn’t be making in the middle of the private territory, but Chad said the place belongs to some weird hillbillies who wouldn’t care about a bunch of college grads having fun. 

You just finished the last of your coke – mixed with cheap whiskey and rum you got back at home, you feel just buzzy and fuzzy and relaxed enough to at least try to engage with people around you. Just didn’t want to make Jenny embarrassed – she was the one to vouch for you, even though you didn’t want to go camping with them. 

— I heard there is something happening in these woods. 

Everyone around you groans and you comply, groaning too. Chad has the worst storytelling voice and even Marty – the resident stoner of the group – is visibly unhappy about having to listen to his dumb jokes. Brace yourself for at least twenty minutes of dumb story with a cheap attempt to scare you. 

— You talk like those locals. What can be here except for drunkards? 

— Very fucking funny, Marty, I hope you laugh at people’s death too. 

Everyone groans again. 

— Shut up and let me finish! So, there is something hiding in those woods…legends…

— What legends? This place was built like 20 years ago. 

— Shut the fuck up, Max! It’s the legends before the town even was built. In those very forests…

— Forests? I thought it was like, just a suburban area. 

— It’s wild Austrian woods, why I would put you to adventure in the fucking suburbs? 

— You’re a suburb baby. 

— Shut it! God, I hate you guys. Alright, so…these woods are populated with…creatures. 

— Ooooh, like the mammoth we saw! 

— Karen, seriously, what the fuck? These woods are filled with motherfucking human-eating killers, not just some animals! 

— Then why do you say “creatures”? — Because it makes for a good fucking story! God, everyone, this is why none of you are studying creative writing! 

— Only your parents have money to pay for it. 

— This is why you all are fucking losers. Alright…god, I hate you. People went missing in these woods. Mostly tourists, never the local population – this is why police don’t care about it. Bodies were found, half-eaten, rotting under that very tree! 

— Which tree? There are like 10 of them just here. 

— More like 100. 

— Under every fucking tree! — That’s a lot of bodies. 

Chad groans, visibly aggressive. You just tilt your head to the side, only talking to him once before taking the last sip of your Coke and standing from your place. You wanted to take a chance to see those woods before you’d be going even deeper the next night – Chad was planning quite an adventure in the wilderness, to your dismay, and you wanted to have a chance to see the cool part of nature before you would grow tired of it. 

To your surprise, Karen was nowhere to be seen. Knowing the girl, she is far too innocent and dumb to be here – probably ran away to not listen to scary stories or got lost while trying to find a good place to pee. You sigh, feeling that it is your responsibility to pick her up – she is Marty’s girlfriend, but he is too stoned out to notice her disappearance yet. 

You stumble on your foot – alcohol makes you dizzy, makes you relaxed and smiley. You don’t even care that no one came to ask what the fuck you are doing – as far as you aware, they all can go and fuck themselves while you have a lot more fun things to do. Like searching for a drunk girl in the forest in the middle of the night…yeah, you really should work on your definition of fun. 

You already a good few minutes into the forest. Nothing but trees, not even a squirrel or a wolf pocking around to feast on yummy bodies. Not like you wanted to see a wolf, of course, but meeting with the wild life could be fun. You’d like to see a bear, for example. 

(And you will – just a bit later) 

— Karen? Karen, are you alright? You decide to scream for her once you are far enough from your friends that they won’t question why you are so concerned for her. Poor girl was obviously scared and you didn’t want to embarrass her even further, so you stroll through the woods, an empty bottle of coke in your hand – not sure why you didn’t threw it away. Littering isn’t nice, after all. 

— Karen? You’re scaring everyone, come out! 

You scream some more – she is probably lost, deep enough that she can’t even hear you. You try not to panic, try to be the reasonable friend – it’s usually Jenny’s task but here you are, trying to be the cool one of your friend group. You yell for Karen some more, listening closely to every little sound that could be easily taken as her whimper or cry for help. 

Nothing. 

Just how far can a scared drunk girl go? Probably not further away than you – you’re already starting to get tired and you knew that Sidhey got far drunker than you are. Which means she could lay here, somewhere, passed from the exhaustion, freezing, with forest animals feasting on her…no, no, you can’t think like that. She is fine, she has to be, or you are going to get into so much trouble with the police and her parents. You never told any of your families about the trip, so you wouldn’t want to get in trouble what ould require their assistance. 

You take a step into deeper part of the forest – and you think you saw a glimpse of…something. Metal, probably, might be her phone or that atrociour hair dye she is using to stop everyone from calling her a mouse. You also think you could hear a sound of someone breathing – heavily, gruffly, definitely a male, but you don’t really know how. You squint, trying to see through the trees. 

You see Karen. 

— Karen? God, you scared everyone…well, me. Where the fuck have you been? 

You smile and wave at her, your drunken state isn’t allowing you to see that, for some weird reason, she isn’t waving back. Or moving, so to speak. She stared at you with that terrified expression of hers and you tilt your head to the side, not udneratanding why is she like that. Something happened between her and others? 

You take another step back and Karen falls. 

Well…her head falls, anyway. 

There are a lot of feelings right now. Panic, panic, panic, a little bit of panic and, oh, who could have guessed, another riel of panic which makes you freak the fuck out and sprint – towards her. Maybe she will be alive if you could put her head back on her neck really-really fast? 

— Is it too late to convince you this is all a dream? 

The voice. 

You don’t recognize it – it’s distorted and quiet under the mask and you don’t know anyone int his fucking place anyways. The voice is weirdly happy, weirdly laughing and you want to vomit from how easy-going it sounds. Like the corpse of your beheaded friend is nothing, like it’s a fun pun, like…

You laungh forward, trying to, maybe, get revenge on your not-really-a-friend. Guy lets go of Karen’s body, allowing it to fall down, her head rolling to the nearest creek and tumbling into the water like a sports ball. You can’t even sob – the situation feels too unreal, too shocking, you are still very much drunk and when the guy simply wraps his hands around your waist, not allowing you to move even an inch, you fall limp in his hold. 

You sob. 

His hand goes to grasp your face in a tight embrace, making you gag from the smell of blood splattered all across his hand. You hear chuckle. 

— Didn’t want you to see that first. Wanted to play hero, yes? 

You sob, you tremble, you can barely master a few words out of your mouth. You want to scream, but it’s like all the air just decided to disappear from your lungs. So, you cry instead. How brave of you, Karen would be so proud of her friend not even trying to avenge her death. 

— F…fuck…you. 

You master with all you strength. Guy is laughing again – his other hand goes to squeeze your waist even more, pushing you against a tree. He wears a full mask with some red drawings on it – a satanic cult, really? You thought about serial killer, maybe, but definetly not about crazy cult maniacs running around. The more you know. 

— Oh, kitten, I’d love to fuck myself. But you’re here for this, no? 

He called you kitten – you squirm in his grasp, not wanting to give him the easy way to kill you. Something pokes you to the side – it’s a knife. Large, sharp, military-issued, you saw it in movie and action TV shows – and now the bloody razor almost grazing over your skin, through the thing fabric of your open jacter and a simple T-shirt. 

— Wh…who are you? 

Stpuid question, really. 

— Why does everyone wants to ask who we are all the time? Would you die happier knowing my name? Would it help you escape knowing how many beauty marks I have?

It would certainly help the police if you were to survive the encounter. Even though you are certainly going to die right next to Karen over there. 

He pushes a knife towards your side, the blade cutting through fabric easily, You brace yourself for being gutted alive. 

— I don’t like stupid questions. Ask something wrong and I will see if you are as pretty on the inside as you are on the outside. 

In a normal situation, you would punch him for such a corny joke. But you’re too drunk for this, but you’re too exhausted for this, but you just want to curl away in some nice place and fucking die, but not because he was the one to kill you. You certainly do not want to give him the satisfaction of being the one for you. 

So, you feel your cheeks heating up with the faintest of blushes. 

— What are you going to do with me?

He pushes the knife deeper, sharp edge cutting the thin line into your side. You sob immediately, tears filling your eyes as you almost feel blood – not a lot of it, just a tiny sharp streak – fill your shirt. You want to vomit, hate pain, and everything that is related to it. Thinking that the knife is dirty already and he would probably infect you with whatever one of the 13 STDs Karen has if he were to proceed. He stops right before the blade can penetrate your skin. 

— I’m a serial killer. What do you think I will do with you? 

You shake your head, trying to search for the question that won’t make him plunge a knife into your body. 

— W…what is your favorite color? 

Good job. Amazing job. Let’s hope you don’t like your liver all that much because he is definitely going to cut it out and eat it. 

— Red. I like you. 

Suddenly, you are being pushed to your knees. Suddenly, he is standing right in front of you – he is tall, of course, bulky and big, and he seems even bigger from this angle. Your face is pressed against his crotch and you can feel the dread slowly filling up your weins. Is he going to…

He presses a knife against your lips – you part it obediently, nervously, you feel your face twitching with disgust as your mouth immediately fills with the metallic taste of Karen’s blood. You really need to vomit right fucking now, but he is petting your head with his other hand like someone would do to a dog or a cat, and you sob. Too scared to do anything and here you thought you would finally stop letting people walk all over you. You thought it would start a journey of self-actualization and finding your own priorities, but…

He presses the knife a bit deeper. 

— Someone here has manners. Your friend here was trying to fuck me until she saw a knife. 

Sounds like Karen. You still remember her fucked-out face when she happily stumbled out of your room, with your boyfriend that you thought was never into cheerleaders. She had her urges and it was normal until she started to get off with those urges on everyone who liked you, or who you liked – and with such an innocent smile that no one was ever mad at her. 

He presses the knife against your upper jaw, laying it flat on your tongue – you sob, trying not to shake your head too much as he wipes away your tears and pushes your throat even deeper on the blade. You don’t know how it still hasn’t penetrated you yet. 

— Squealed like a fucking pig, not even fun anymore. I assume she was the whore of your group? 

You shook your shoulders, not wanting to give him any answers. He laughs, pressing the blade down and slightly turning it to the side. You feel the string of saliva running from your open mouth – he wipes it with his finger, leaving blood stains on your face. 

— Clean the knife for me, okay? I might leave you live if you would be good for us. You launch onto the opportunity to save your life so quickly, that you don’t even register the word “us” slipping from his tongue. 

You suck the knife obediently, carefully holding your tongue from the sharp edge so you won’t cut yourself, trying so desperately not to hurt yourself on the blade, that it’s almost adorable, He looks at you, the way you even fucking hollow your cheeks to clean it more efficiently, like you were sucking a cock and, with every passing second, he doesn’t really feel like killing you anymore. 

He feels like keeping you bound to him – maybe cutting your ankles so you would never run away from them, maybe tying you up to the body of your friend and holstering you both to the house, making you watch him gut Karen so you’d know not to run away from them. 

He pets your head like you were a cat – and, god, he always adored cats. 

You hear the noises from the side – your gaze darts to the nearest bushes as the guy waves his hand to someone gigantic sitting down at your side. Two pair of hands are now petting your head like you were a fucking animal – and you’re still sucking on his knife, feeling the pressure on your lips. You want to die, but there is no choice but to keep living. 

— Scheisse, what do you have here? 

A hand goes to cup your face and turns you to the side, to meet the giant, bulky figure fully wrapped in camo gear. His face is concealed with some sort of hood, which makes you shake even more. They both look like soldiers – or soldier-cultist-butchers from a horror movie. But, then again, you are in the fucking horror movie, since the big guy has Karen’s head in his hand, holding her by the hair. You sob even more. 

— Stumbled across me as I was gutting the slut. 

— Is she a smart one then? 

The guy with the knife laughs, yanking the blade from your mouth. You want to close it immediately, but the second guy pushes his finger between your lips, keeping them apart – and you are too scared to even try to bite him. Instead, you sit here, obediently, feeling the alcohol in your system working its magic. Again. Making you drowsy and relaxed, panic drained so much energy from your body, that you genuinely feel horrible. 

— No, wouldn’t say so. Obedient, more like. 

— Not a cool one either. Are you a virgin, Schatz? 

You want to lie, just so you won’t feel so fucking embarrassed because of it – but something in the brutality of what they did to Karen made you reconsider. You just shake your shoulders, not wanting to give a definitive answer. 

— Cute. Been some time since we saw a cute one like this. 

Your sobbing intensifies and the big guy suddenly yanks you on your feet. You immediately feel ill, pressing your head against the tree and emptying your insides – mostly because of the panic and partly because of the amount of alcohol you drank. Their touches are surprisingly soft on your skin, gently removing any stray hairs from your face and holding a firm hand on your back, rubbing the blood and grim into your jacket. 

You stand like this for a few minutes, choking on your own tears, vomit, and blood. They coo at you, gentle hands on your body guiding you towards them just so the second guy – a smaller one, relatively of course – could get a hand in your hair and yank it back. Hard. 

— Calm the fuck down. 

— You’re scaring her, Tigeren. 

— Aren’t we here for this? 

— Thought you liked this one. 

— I do. But…

— But? 

— Not fun to take her just now. She can help stir her friends a little. Make them run a little. 

They fucking killed Karen and they want to…let you go? They made you clean their knives, stand on your knees in front of them, and then gently helped you empty your insides – just to let you go when you could run into the nearest policeman and destroy their whole little game? Are they dumb or overly confident? 

— She could run. I would rather keep her with us. 

— They won’t get out of these forests without phones. And their car is already…shit. Spoilers. 

— Alright. But I would be the first to take her next time. 

— She won’t be any good after you, Ko. 

— Our Kleine Hase has more than one hole, ja? 

This is it. 

You take the opportunity – they are distracted by their little conversation, so you duck under the hand of the bigger man and run in the close direction to where the group is sitting. You are covered in blood, and dirt, you shake like crazy and you can barely even run straight without getting right into the various trees, but you don’t care. You aren’t strong enough to sit here and listen to their conversation – not when the self-preservation makes you forget about Karen. Not when that feeling in your chest can only be described as “She got what she asked for” – because she was a bitch, but not nearly enough to deserve being beheaded by two psychos. 

They laugh as they watch you run. Horangi smiles, nudging Konig to the side – you’re not a fighter, but still interesting enough. Adorable and obedient, just vile enough to suck on the same knife that killed your friend – interesting mix, to say the least. Hongjin always wanted a cat, but never got the time on the various deployments – and you behave like a perfect mix of a kitten and bunny. 

Konig tilts his head to the side, watching you, this pathetic little thing, run like the devil was after you. He was, of course. and he came in double, but it was still funny, how a city girl like you seriously thought you would be able to get away if they weren’t allowing you to. You’re cute, for a tourist, and he wants to hunt you some more – perfect foreplay before destroying you with either his cock or his knife. 

One down – and both of them couldn’t wait to finally get to you. 

[lenny-link]

i LIVE for your sniperscout art they're so silly it feeds me so well :'') mind sharing headcanons or just random thoughts you have abt them?

sorry anon for taking a whole year to reply to this i took all the time to ‘study’ them and write what i like about them or basically how i hc this ship :,> (also trying to come up with new hc that i haven’t read before)

My Sniperscout headcanons/thoughts:

- Sniper, the stoic assassin with a heart as cold as ice, had never expected to have his life turned upside down by a ball of energy and bad puns named Scout. He was the first one to develop feelings. His job consisted of a lot of staring, and well his sniper rifle wasn’t the only thing with a long scope, Sniper’s gaze would linger on Scout, tracing the messy dirty blonde hair, his athletic form and the way his lips moved like a silent film, noticing details about him more than a simple teammate would.

- The loudmouth, messy-haired kid was everything Sniper wasn't: impulsive, loud, and always looking for trouble. Yet, somehow, Scout would find his way into Sniper's quiet life, his laughter chasing away the monotony of Sniper's days, filling the silence with his made up stories and infectious enthusiasm.

- Sniper refuses to admit his growing fondness for the ball of energy that had invaded his quiet world. Scout’s jokes might have been bad but they chased away the deafening solitude of Sniper’s days.

- Scout, on the other hand, being the you youngest and loudest, craved attention he barely found from his brothers let alone the 8 mercs he worked with. But with Sniper, he wasn’t ignored he was listened to, Sniper listened really listened. He would even laugh at his lame jokes! In Sniper’s silence, Scout didn’t have to fight for space or attention. He was simply allowed to be himself, bad jokes and all and Sniper would just smile. Slowly a different kind of warmth would blossom into Scout chest, a warmth beyond friendship.

- Sniper actually enjoyed learning about American culture from Scout. He would develop a surprising fondness for baseball and apple pie, though he’d never admit it.

- Regardless of the fact that they have only a three year age gap (yes my hc is that Scout is 26 and Sniper is 29) they felt like creatures from different planets!: Sniper, the farm boy raised on outdated ways, and Scout, the city kid with a modern swagger (lol) yet this difference somehow only strengthened their bond.

- A bond that was fueled by shared laughter, puns, Aussie slangs, and a mutual dislike for Spy. They loved to elaborate pranks on him and call it a date, much to the Frenchman's chagrin lol.

- Despite his "Professional with Standards" persona, Sniper would feel like a lost puppy when Scout wasn’t around during their off hours, subconsciously fidgeting and always looking for him. Yet refuses to call himself soft.

- Sniper, a man of action, would expressed his affection through whatever small gifts he can give, he would bring funny-shaped rocks, odd plants or flowers he found in the woods to Scout as a souvenir of his lil adventures in the woods, and Scout would usually mock his weird finds playfully yet would collect them all on the shelf of his dorm.

- Scout, meanwhile, being the hopeless romantic is, had his own unique way of flirting, his goofy sweetness and awkward affections (0 rizz, but weirdly endearing) melting even the frostiest corners of Sniper’s heart.

- He'd always make up excuses to be alone with Sniper, "accidentally" forgetting his backpack in the van just for an extra ride back. (i was actually working on a comic about this as a continuation of Scout forgetting his necklace at Sniper’s van). He'd linger in doorways, his hands brushing against Sniper's in a clumsy attempt for physical contact.

- The first time their skin met in a hug, Sniper, being a touch starved man, melted like a hot candle. He became addicted to the warmth.

- He never initiates contact himself since it never was his style, but eagerly cling when Scout did. He'd hold on like a koala bear, clinging to the warmth like a lifeline lol.

- Scout, on the other hand, thrived on physical connection. From fist bumps on the battlefield to playful slaps on the bum (earning a hilarious reaction from Sniper every time), he craved it all

- Although Sniper hated PDA, a weakness exposed by Scout's touch. Scout, initially confused by the battlefield indifference followed by clingy cuddles in their private moments, eventually understood and learned to cherish this weird rhythm of intimacy.

- Sniper had a secret passion for knitting, he often knits sweaters, hats and socks for Scout, another way to gift Scout and to silently demonstrate his love. (i think this one is basically canon lol)

- Sniper’s van had become their mobile love nest, cuddling under the moonlight, sharing stories and dreams until they fall asleep.

- Whenever Scout's boasting gets out of hand, Sniper would silence him with a quick, playful kiss. Scout, flustered but secretly delighted, pretends to be annoyed but can't hide the blush creeping up his neck.

- Sniper who loves to show his gruff stoic exterior, gets all flustered and shy when Scout gives him genuine compliments. He’d mumbles something under his breath and hides behind his hat not used to being complimented, revealing a new weakness for Scout to exploit.

- Scout, despite his outward bravado, secretly worries about Sniper when he's on dangerous missions. He would hide it by throwing playful punches and jokes, but his eyes betray his concern.

- They fit together like puzzle pieces. Sniper, the touch-starved soul, finds solace in Scout's constant physical affection, his warmth a contrast to the coldness of his sniper's lonely lifestyle. And Scout, the braggart with a hidden insecurities, finds comfort in Sniper's quiet protectiveness.

hope that wasn’t too boring to read :>

[badger-tales]

Skin Deep// G.W x Reader

a/n: I love soulmate au’s and I'm not afraid to admit that 🗣️🗣️

Request: Hello!! I've been thinking alot about soulmate!AUs recently and was wondering if you could do a George Weasley x hufflepuff!reader, with the soulmate trope where writing on their skin shows up on the other or if one gets injured the other will have a scar appear in the same place (they don't feel the pain of said injury tho) etc. Reader is close friends with Fred and George, but has obvi been crushing on George (and he on them) in "secret" as they both don't know they are each others soulmates until either a prank backfiring or a rough quidditch match where the reader then shares the scar and George sees it. Then fluff 👀😁

word count: 3.2k

The Gryffindor common room buzzed with its usual post-dinner energy, warm and glowing under the soft light of floating candles. The thick, comforting scent of old books, faint traces of wood smoke, and distant pumpkin juice still clung to the air as students clustered together, filling the room with chatter and laughter. It was a typical evening, a snapshot of Hogwarts life at its most lively, but for George Weasley, everything beyond the small circle around him was merely background noise.

He leaned back in his worn armchair, the edges of the cushion threadbare from years of use, his legs casually propped up on the table in front of him. Fred sat across from him, gesturing wildly as he recounted their latest prank, the story weaving together flashes of enchanted pumpkins, glitter explosions, and one very irritable Professor Snape. Fred’s voice rose and fell in animated excitement, drawing laughter from nearby Gryffindors, but George’s attention kept wandering elsewhere.

It wandered to her.

Sitting beside Fred, she had one leg tucked underneath her, her bright yellow and black Hufflepuff scarf lying in a soft heap across her lap. She wasn’t paying full attention to Fred’s tale, at least not in the way she normally did. Instead, her wand traced delicate lines across the back of her hand, leaving behind shimmering ink that formed little swirling vines and flowers. They bloomed gently, one after another, her lips tugging into a faint smile as she added a leaf here, a petal there. It was a small, absent-minded ritual of hers when she was lost in thought, and George had seen it enough times to know that her mind was elsewhere.

Merlin, how many times had he caught himself staring? Too many. He knew her expressions better than he’d like to admit—the slight furrow in her brow when she was thinking hard, the little bite of her lip when she was stifling a laugh, or the way her eyes went unfocused when she drifted into her own world. The three of them—Fred, George, and her—had been close since third year, bonded by shared jokes and pranks, and George had always felt like he could read her better than anyone.

But recently, things had changed. Every time he tried to “read” her, his chest tightened in ways that sent his thoughts spinning. That light in her eyes, the curve of her smile—it wasn’t just friendship anymore, at least not for him. His heart wasn’t supposed to leap every time she laughed or flutter when she brushed past him. He was supposed to be calm, easy, the way he always was around her. Yet here he was, nervously kicking his foot up and down under the table like some love-struck first year.

"Oi, mate! You listening?"

Fred’s voice cut through his thoughts like a splash of cold water, snapping George back to the present. Fred’s eyebrows were raised in mock accusation, a grin tugging at his lips. Beside him, she was giggling softly, her eyes glancing toward George.

"Not at all," George admitted with a shrug, fighting the urge to rub the back of his neck. His grin came automatically, a cover for the fact that he’d been completely lost in thought—thoughts about her.

Fred’s story faded into the background again as George caught her eye. Her laugh shifted into a small, shy smile, and she quickly looked away, cheeks tinged with a slight blush that sent a rush of warmth through him. He felt his heart stutter, and Merlin, did she have any idea what she was doing to him? Could she tell? Were his feelings that obvious?

He hoped not. As much as he wanted to just tell her, to confess how much he’d been crushing on her for months now, the thought of what it might change terrified him. She was one of his best friends. The three of them—it was a trio that had always worked. How could he risk mucking that up by blurting out that she’d been on his mind constantly? And what if… what if she wasn’t even his soulmate? What if all these feelings were one-sided and he ruined everything?

George glanced down at his arm, half-expecting a sudden mark or doodle to show up—a sign, something to tell him whether she was his soulmate or not. There’d been small clues over the years, but never enough to be certain.

A loud crack from the fireplace snapped him out of his thoughts once more, this time jolting the entire common room out of its comfortable chatter.

“Oi, George!” Fred leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Bet you two galleons you can’t make this a proper night of mayhem. I’ve got the dungbombs ready to go.”

Fred always had a way of bringing George back to the present, and for a moment, George’s worries melted under the weight of potential mischief. He arched an eyebrow, glancing from Fred to her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “What do you think? You in?”

Her hesitation was brief, but George saw the flicker of excitement light up her face, the playful spark that never failed to make his heart skip a beat. She turned her head toward George, eyes glinting with mischief of her own. "You know I can’t resist a little mischief,” she replied, leaning forward slightly. “What’s the plan?”

George’s grin widened. Yeah, that’s why he liked her. She wasn’t just someone he fancied—she was his partner in crime, someone who never shied away from a bit of chaos. And while the pranks, the laughter, and the camaraderie were all great, it was the moments like these—the ones where it was just the two of them, sharing a glance or a joke—that really mattered to him.

But as the three of them huddled together, plotting their next adventure, George couldn’t quite shake the thought that maybe—just maybe—tonight would be the night things changed. Maybe it was time for fate to step in.

The prank had gone off almost perfectly. Almost. The Weasley twins' enchanted fireworks had burst into life with a dazzling array of colors, setting the usually quiet corridors alight with vibrant hues. Brilliant reds, golds, and blues spiraled through the air, casting flickering reflections on the stone walls as they exploded in bursts of glitter and smoke. The sound was deafening—crackles and pops echoing like mini thunderstorms throughout the castle, and for a few glorious minutes, it had seemed like nothing could go wrong.

But, as always, Peeves had other plans.

The poltergeist had swooped in out of nowhere, gleefully cackling as he swooped through the fireworks display, scattering the shimmering lights into utter chaos. He’d knocked a few of the rockets in the wrong direction, sending one whizzing toward Filch’s office and another careening into a stack of dusty armor, which collapsed with a loud crash. The next thing George knew, Peeves had started hurling ink pots, parchment rolls, and whatever else he could get his hands on, sending the three of them sprinting for cover.

Which was how George found himself tearing down the darkened hallways of Hogwarts, side by side with her, laughter bursting from their chests in gasps between breaths. The adrenaline thrummed in his veins, making everything sharper—the echo of their footsteps, the distant sounds of Peeves chasing after Fred somewhere behind them, and the feeling of her arm brushing against his as they ran, her grin as wide and wild as his own.

His lungs burned from the exertion, but the thrill of it all—the chaos, the risk of getting caught, the way she looked at him, eyes bright and full of mischief—made every second feel electric.

“Oi! Over here!” George panted, grabbing her hand and pulling her down a narrow corridor, his laugh echoing against the stone. But in their haste, neither of them noticed the uneven stone floor. Her foot caught on a loose flagstone just as they rounded a corner, and the next thing George knew, she was tumbling forward with a startled yelp.

The world tilted, and she hit the ground with a jarring thud, the stone floor cold and unyielding beneath her. Her elbow took the brunt of the fall, and George winced at the dull ache spreading through her arm as she landed. But the sting of it seemed to be overshadowed by her embarrassment. Of all times to trip, of course it had to be in the middle of a prank escape.

George skidded to a halt beside her, his own breath coming fast as he bent down, concern replacing the mischievous grin that had been on his face moments before. “You alright?” he asked, voice breathless but soft, the playful spark in his eyes now replaced with something gentler.

She winced, rubbing her elbow where it had slammed into the stone. "Just my pride," she muttered, pushing herself up into a sitting position. The dull throb in her arm was more annoying than painful, and she flexed her fingers to test it. "And maybe my arm," she added with a small, self-deprecating chuckle.

George crouched beside her, his expression still serious as he extended a hand. “Here,” he said, his voice quieter now, his usual teasing tone absent. She hesitated only for a moment before taking it, his grip warm and solid as he helped pull her to her feet. Even once she was standing, his hand lingered in hers for a second too long, his thumb brushing over her knuckles before he finally let go.

“You sure you’re alright?” he

asked again, his eyes scanning her for any sign of injury, as if he hadn’t fully believed her the first time.

She offered him a small smile, more to reassure him than anything else. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a bruise, probably.”

George didn’t look entirely convinced, but after a moment, he nodded, though his gaze flickered to her arm one last time. “Alright,” he said, but there was a softness to his voice now, a thread of concern that hadn’t been there before. “Let’s catch up with Fred before Peeves decides to throw dungbombs.”

Later that night, after the adrenaline had worn off and the glow of the common room fire had given way to the quiet of the Hufflepuff dormitory, she found herself lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The familiar comfort of her four-poster bed usually brought her peace after long, chaotic days, but tonight, she couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of George’s touch, or the way he’d looked at her with that worried frown.

She rolled over onto her side, absently running her hand over the spot on her elbow where she’d fallen. There was a dull ache there now, the kind that would probably bruise by morning. But as her fingers traced over the skin, something caught her attention. Her brow furrowed, and she sat up, pushing back her sleeve to get a better look.

There, just below her elbow, was a faint scar. Not a bruise, as she’d expected, but a small, silvery mark that hadn’t been there before.

Frowning, she traced the scar with her fingertips, the skin smooth but slightly raised. How had it healed so quickly? She hadn’t felt any serious pain when she’d fallen—just the usual sting of hitting stone—but this scar felt… strange. Unfamiliar.

A prickle of unease crawled up her spine as she continued to stare at the mark. Scars didn’t just appear out of nowhere, not like this. And something about the way it had appeared, so suddenly, sent a ripple of confusion through her.

What if it wasn’t just a normal scar?

The thought came unbidden, and she swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the silence in the room. There’d been stories about soulmates—about marks and scars appearing between them, about the way their bodies mirrored each other in ways that defied explanation. But she’d never taken it too seriously before. Until now.

She lay back down slowly, eyes fixed on the scar, her thoughts spinning. If this was what she thought it was… what did it mean?

The next morning found her in the Great Hall, surrounded by the steady hum of students enjoying breakfast. The long tables were laden with platters of eggs, toast, and bacon, the air filled with the mouthwatering scent of sizzling sausages and the sweetness of pumpkin juice. But despite the warmth and bustle around her, her mind was elsewhere—fixated on the mysterious scar now etched into her skin.

She sat quietly, absently twirling a spoon between her fingers, her eyes flickering down to the faint silvery line that now marked her arm just below her elbow. It hadn’t been there before last night’s prank, and she couldn’t shake the strange feeling it gave her. The scar felt like a puzzle waiting to be solved, a question gnawing at the back of her mind that refused to be ignored. How had it appeared so suddenly? Why hadn’t it been a bruise like she’d expected? She traced it lightly with her finger, the skin smooth and slightly raised.

But before her thoughts could unravel further, a familiar raucous energy interrupted her reverie. Fred and George slid into the seats across from her, both wearing expressions far too pleased for this early in the morning. Fred was practically vibrating with smug satisfaction, his wicked grin giving away that he was still riding high from the chaos of last night.

“Peeves owes us one after last night,” Fred declared, plucking a slice of toast from the pile and slathering it with jam, his tone gleeful. “We’ve still got some fireworks left, if you’re up for round two tonight.” His eyes twinkled mischievously, clearly already planning their next bout of mayhem.

But while Fred was cheerfully plotting, George wasn’t joining in on the excitement. In fact, George wasn’t paying attention to his twin at all. His gaze had shifted, brow furrowing as he stared at her arm, specifically at the scar that had consumed her thoughts all morning.

“Hey,” George said slowly, his voice tinged with confusion as he pointed at the mark. “When did you get that?”

Her stomach twisted sharply. The casual noise of the Great Hall seemed to dull around her, her heart skipping a beat as she looked down at her arm again. A knot of unease formed in her chest. She had almost convinced herself it wasn’t a big deal, that the scar was just a strange accident, but now that George had noticed…

“I—” Her voice came out quieter than she’d intended. She cleared her throat, feeling the weight of George’s eyes on her as she forced herself to meet his gaze. “Last night, after the prank. I tripped. It just… showed up later.”

Fred, completely oblivious to the tension now brewing at the table, continued munching on his toast, not missing a beat. “Weird,” he said with a nonchalant shrug, already moving on in his mind to their next prank. “Anyway—"

But George wasn’t listening. He didn’t even glance at Fred. His focus was fixed entirely on her, and something unspoken hung in the air between them. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled up the sleeve of his jumper, revealing the pale skin of his forearm. And there, in the exact same spot, was an identical scar. The same shape, the same placement.

“I got this… last night,” George said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a note of disbelief in his tone, as though he was still trying to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

Her heart stopped. Time itself seemed to falter as she stared at the scar on his arm, then back at her own. The world around her—the clatter of dishes, the chatter of students, Fred’s carefree voice—all faded into the background, muffled by the rush of blood pounding in her ears. This couldn’t be real. Her mind raced, piecing together the impossible puzzle that had been forming over the years.

She’d always wondered who her soulmate might be. There had been signs, little things that appeared on her skin now and then—a faint doodle, a random bruise, fleeting but noticeable. She’d wondered, even daydreamed about what it would be like to finally meet them. But never, in all those daydreams, had she imagined it would be George. Her George.

“Wait… that means—” Her voice trembled as she spoke, barely able to get the words out, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. “We’re… soulmates?” Her heart hammered in her chest, so loud she was certain he could hear it.

George’s expression softened in a way she hadn’t seen before. His usual playful, carefree demeanor melted into something far more tender, far more intimate. The way he looked at her now—it wasn’t just his usual teasing glance or a friendly smirk. No, this was deeper. Warmer. He reached out slowly, his fingers brushing against her scar with a featherlight touch, as though he couldn’t quite believe it either.

“Looks like it,” he murmured, his voice soft, eyes locking with hers in a way that made her pulse quicken. His fingers lingered on her skin, tracing the line of the scar as if confirming it was real.

For a moment, the world stopped. Fred’s voice was still a faint hum in the background, but she couldn’t hear him. All that existed was George—his hand on her arm, the warmth in his touch, the way his eyes searched hers with a quiet intensity. The realization was like a wave, crashing over her and pulling her under all at once. George was her soulmate. The boy she’d spent years laughing with, confiding in, pulling pranks with… the one she’d harbored feelings for in secret.

Her face flushed, a soft heat blooming in her cheeks as the weight of it all settled over her.

“I…” The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them, her heart racing ahead of her mind. “I’ve liked you for ages.” The confession slipped past her lips in a rush, almost like she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to say it if she hesitated. “But I didn’t think—” She stopped, suddenly unsure how to finish, barely believing she’d even said it out loud.

George’s lips curved into a soft, almost disbelieving smile. He let out a low laugh, shaking his head as though the whole situation was too surreal to grasp. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to say the same thing.”

His hand slid down from her arm to take her hand fully in his, his grip firm but gentle as his thumb brushed lightly over her knuckles. The warmth of his touch sent a flutter through her chest, and she couldn’t help but smile back, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifting.

“Well,” George said, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes, “now that we know…”

“Now what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, though her smile was widening.

“Now,” George said, his grin widening into the full, charming smile she’d known so well, “we’ll have to come up with a proper soulmate prank, won’t we?”

Her laughter bubbled up, the sound of it light and free, and the tension that had wrapped itself around her heart for so long melted away, replaced by something brighter—something thrilling. She didn’t know what was coming next, but she did know one thing: things would never be the same again.

[mondaymelon]

— “𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…” ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

໒꒱ || cw: fluff <3 modern!au, the two of you live together, established relationship, wanderer has anger issues, reader needs an oscar !!

⤷ jokingly ignoring your anemo boyfriend ♡

“...Did I do something not to your liking?”

XIAO’s frantic, even if it doesn’t show on his displeased expression. And his worries aren’t without reason - you’ve been ignoring his presence since he came home from an outing this afternoon. It’s already evening, yet you still haven’t uttered a word to him, only occasionally sending him complicated glances that he can’t even begin to unravel. He knows your heart well, that much is true, yet right now his senses have been cast into an abyss of confusion.

You cast him a sideways look. “No, nothing.” Even as the male visibly brightens at the fact that you’ve finally acknowledged him, you still seem as offset as before. It’s rather laughable how this entire matter is bringing him back to when the two of you first met, when he still acted so bristlingly cold to you, and how your warm disposition had melted that away… the light scowl on your face proved to serve that he had made a mistake.

What kind of mistake? Perhaps he’d never know. Xiao thought that he had been acting well recently, hadn’t lashed out with his sharp tongue or started a dispute with a particularly foolish person, yet perhaps he had slipped without his knowledge, and you had been there as his silent witness.

“Nothing? If I’ve done anything to upset you, please, tell me what it was.” 

“I said it’s nothing.”

The frown on his face only deepens. Were you testing him? “If I hadn’t done anything wrong, then why won’t you look at me?” You only remain silent, and while Xiao isn’t hurt, the adeptus is utterly clueless about what to do in a situation like this. His voice grows soft, leaning closer to you and staring into your eyes even as you evade his.

“Please look at me, love.”

It’s hard to utter those words, especially when his instincts are failing him, yet the male jolts as you let out a laugh.

“Ahahaa- Xiao, what are you- Aha-!” You stop for a breath, still laughing quietly. Great, now Xiao is even more confused. Why were you laughing? Was it because of him? Either way, he’s just glad that he’s rid the scowl on your face.

“I’m sorry, but… just what do you mean?”

“Nonono, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” You shake your head slightly, smiling. “I thought it’d be funny to prank you, but I didn’t expect it to be that effective…”

Xiao blinks. “So…”

“It was a joke.”

“Ah. Is that so? However…”

You blink, and you can feel his presence behind you, his whisper tickling your ears as he speaks. His voice is low, a near growl as his sturdy arms pull you closer. “That lost time. When you evaded my gaze and affection.”

“You better make it up to me.” ♡

“Are you sure you’re alright, dearest?”

You can see the sincere concern reflected in KAZUHA’s crimson eyes. He’s keeping his distance, yet he knows something is off, and it makes him unreasonably uneasy. The way you’re acting now isn’t something he hasn’t seen before. Kazuha’s been through much, and he knows what hurt looks like. It’s hard to stay silent, but he knows that he won’t be able to reach you at the moment. Sometimes, walls that were put up could only lower over time.

“I’m fine.” As if that were true - then why was your voice so cold? The male’s heart aches as he watches you disappear into your room, the door closing shut behind you. Ah, even writing a poem wouldn’t be able to capture his feelings right now. Kazuha wants to take you in his arms, to embrace you, to hold you tight as he whispers to you that everything will be okay. Yet even for the person who understands you best, he knows that what you need is rest, not whatever else he could provide.

He sits in front of your door, his head leaning against the wood. He’ll wait until you’re ready to talk to him, even if that time wouldn’t come soon. It’s silent, that is, until he hears a faint sound. Laughter? His face visibly brightens, only to grow confused as he hears the words, “Holy shit, I am one very good actor-”

He calls out your name, a stunned expression appearing on his face as your door swings open, your surprised eyes meeting his. “Ah, were you lurking there?” There’s a visible grin on your face as you let out a little laugh. “I should’ve expected that much, you wouldn’t simply brush away the incident like that, would you? Ah, to think the prank would be found out so easily…” You let out a playful sigh.

“Wh- What is… all of this?” His expression is one of distant amazement, crimson eyes wide as he glances at your beaming self. Sure, he knew that your disposition was often teasing, but to go this far…? He lets out a good-natured laugh at your antics, a warm smile gracing his lips. He’s not upset - he can’t be, not when he’s glad that you’re able to laugh like this without hindrance. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” He chuckles, drawing closer and leaving a light peck on your forehead, sweeping away your hair with a soft touch. “Hm, but this is rather unfair, isn’t it?”

His eyes adopt a sense of contentment as he watches your expression grow perplexed. “Huh?”

“To play such a cruel trick on me, without second regard… no matter.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me, dearest.” ♡

“Huh? What’s up with you today??”

The moment you avoid his all-knowing gaze, HEIZOU’s already thinking up of every possibility. Someone annoying at work? He had heard you complaining about obnoxious commissioners far longer than he cared to remember. Or maybe someone had taken one of your bounties, and now you were at a loss of mora? Or perhaps the person in question was someone different entirely… himself.

“Nothing.” Your reply is short as you merely give him a quick glance as you step through the door. It’s apparent that you’re trying to weasel out of his sight as soon as possible, with the way you’re frantically undoing your shoes without so much of another word.

But he certainly hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? No, of course not. How could you possibly find an annoyance in his ever-charming smile? Ah, but then again, it’s not unreasonable for the person at fault to be none other than himself, but with the way your eyes hold just the slightest shred of mischief… oh. Oh. Ahaha, you’re proving to be rather amusing, aren’t you? To think you’d dare pull such a slight on someone like him… a half-done case like this is easy to unravel. But no matter, he’ll play along, just for his own entertainment.

“Awww, love, did I do something wrong?” He blinks his sparkling green eyes up at you, fluttering his lashes. Glittering tears pool at the edges of his eyes. “C’mon, you can tell me what happened…!”

You blink, utterly dumbstruck. “Heizou, what the fuck.”

“D-Don’t avoid me, alright?!” He whines, clinging to your shirt desperately. “I-I don’t want to be alone…!!” His large doe eyes, growing even larger under your gaze, are glossy with tears.

In all honesty, you should’ve expected this. But perhaps a small part of you wanted to believe that Heizou wouldn’t just figure all of it out off the bat… he knows you far too well to nod along with concern.

“Wh-Why aren’t you talking? Do you hate me??” Heizou’s blubbering, close to breaking into tears. Fuck, he was an even better actor than you were, how was this level of satire even possible?? What kind of detective cases is he having to go through if he needs these kinds of skills… you sigh.

“Damn Heizou, you could’ve at least pretended to fall for it.” You huff, sitting down on the couch before shifting to the side to make space for the male. “You’ve gone and ruined my nightly entertainment.”

He blinks at you, then laughs, quickly changing out of his facade. It’s startling, how he’s able to switch characters so easily, almost like he’s taking off one mask and simply putting on another. “I would’ve been a fool to fall for that shoddy performance.”

“A fool? Don’t flatter yourself.” You let out a joking exasperated sigh, leaning into his shoulder with a pout.

“But perhaps I am one?” He hums thoughtfully, ruffling his hands through your hair. “After all, you certainly are, and I am your lover, so… what is it they say? Like meets like?”

You puff out your cheeks, face growing red. “Heizou, I’m not a fool!”

He chuckles, eyes twinkling as he grins. “I know. However, I fear the same could not be said about me…” He shrugs his shoulders, sighing dramatically, yet you can hear the impending mischief in his tone.

“Or… perhaps I’m a fool for you? ♡

“Hey, did you just ignore me??”

All you did was brush past him at the doorway, yet WANDERER is already bristling, eyebrows drawn up in a scowl as his gaze burns into your back. “Oh great, so now you aren’t even going to respond to me, are you?? Fun. So funny. I hope you feel proud of yourself, dimwit.” His rage only continues when you remain silent. “What, did I do something wrong? The fuck, answer me!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You manage to add a note of sarcasm into your voice, inwardly cheering yourself on at your sheer acting talent. “I’m just tired today. Don’t talk to me.”

His indigo eyes widen at your words. “Hah? Wh-What do I have to do with that? That doesn’t give you the right to-!” He catches himself before he falls into a fit, knowing surely that in the heat of the moment, something would likely be broken and thrown out the window, which had just been fixed last Thursday. He lets out a sigh, one of exasperation. “Why must you be so idiotic?”

He supposed he was the idiotic one to expect a response.

“Alright, I see how it is. We’re going to play this game. Very well.” He confidently strides up next to you and pulls up a chair, watching your pencil draw words about who knows what. Wanderer is someone stubborn, that much is apparent, and he’s not one to back down. And you’ve just presented him with an opportunity to flare that tenacity of his. Of course, he wouldn’t be lying if he hadn’t said that he wasn’t at least the slightest bit concerned about what had happened to you, how could he not? 

Ah, but at the same time, he had threatened everyone in your classes and workplace not to lay a single finger on you, so who would have possibly dared to defy his command? If that was the case… you instinctively flinch, glancing at the male in your peripheral vision, whose eyes have grown cold as the air trembles at his sudden release of bloodlust.

He’s definitely misinterpreting this, isn’t he? You grumble, catching his attention for a brief moment. “Nevermind, I don’t think I can pull this off…”

The blank expression on his face is almost worth the scolding you’ll get after his realization. “...What?”

“You’ve been… pranked?” You give him a sheepish smile. “I thought it would be funny to ignore you for a day, so-”

“You what?” Shit, his bloodlust hasn’t disappeared, just switched recipients. You let out a shaky laugh as he glowers at you, clearly enraged. Ah, you’ve certainly dug yourself into quite a deep hole, haven’t you? But it shouldn’t prove to be a problem…

“Don’t be so mad at me, alright? I just wanted to poke some fun!” You press your lips into his cheek before he can get a word in, smiling against his smooth skin. “Mwah! There, my apology!”

His silence is a terrifying thing, but soon enough his lips move to form words, mumbled out and hard to hear as his cheeks ever so subtly grow red. “...t…en…”

“Huh? Sorry, I couldn’t-”

“Not enough. Kiss me again, and just maybe I’ll forgive you.” ♡

(a/n) wouldn't it be so silly if i posted at least every monday so my blog name would actually make sense. so silly. so unbelievably improbably inconceivably impossibly unthinkably unimaginably silly !!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[featherandferns]

guilty as sin? (fic - part 1/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | largely inspired by the bible

content warning: sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (physical abuse) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 14k.

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

“And this is your room.”

The syrup-coloured wood is the first thing your eyes meet when John B pushes open the bedroom door. There’s the vague lingering smell of teenage boy which he’s tried to air out, the window open ajar, and the clutter of his belongings has been moved to make space for your own. As you drop your duffel bag and step into the room, you take in the walls. There’s posters and prints stuck above his bed, dotted around on slats of wood separating windows: someone surfing; a rockstar smashing his guitar. An old skateboard deck is nailed into the wall alongside a license plate. The sheets are bright blue, the bed freshly made, and a clean towel is folded up at the foot. It’s well-lit with plenty of daylight flowing through the many windows. Homely and inviting.

“Is it, uh, alright?”

You turn to find John B leaning against the doorframe, hands in his short pockets. Smiling, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “I’m honestly chill with crashing on the couch, though.”

It’s pretty obvious this was his room: you feel guilty kicking him out.

He shakes his head and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I moved into my dad’s room anyway. This has been the spare for a while.”

“Well, thanks,” you smile.

He nods, mirroring your content. “I’ll let you settle in and stuff. I moved all my crap out the closet so you can put your stuff in there, and the top bedside drawer is empty.”

“That’s perfect,” you say. You lift your bag with a grunt and dump it on the bed.

“I gotta go to work but call if you need anything. Shouldn’t be back too late.”

Unzipping your bag, you look to him. “Where’d you work?”

“Got this gig helping out at Ward Cameron’s. Don’t know if you remember him?”

“Course I do,” you snort. “The kingpin of Kildare, and your dad’s treasure hunting buddy.”

There’s a tense silence as your words catch up with you. You press your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Shit, sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“It’s cool,” John B says, graciously gliding past it. “Anyway, he pays pretty good so can’t complain. Mostly just handy-man odd jobs.”

“Very noble work,” you joke.

With a quiet laugh, John B nods and backs out the door. He lingers another moment, contemplating saying something else. “Look, uh, I know it isn’t ideal circumstances, you coming back to Kildare and stuff, but I’m glad you’re here. Really. It’s nice having you back, sis.”

Your mood sobers, smile turning solemn.

“Thanks,” you quietly reply.

He nods once more and pats the doorframe in farewell. “Right, I’ll let you get unpacked. See you later.”

“See ya.”

When John B leaves – the front door shuddering against the house as it slams shut – you’re overcome with quiet. In Colorado, where you lived with your mom in the city, there was little nature. You forgot how peaceful Kildare is. Through the crack in the window, birdsong and cricket chimes accompany the sound of your unpacking. You turf out your clothes and take to putting them in the closet. Shoes and bags and bikinis. A jacket and a few sweatshirts. It was easy enough to plan for your outfits considering you’re only staying the summer. You remember the weather in Kildare well enough from when you used to live here.

Once you’ve unpacked your clothes, you find your paints. A box of watercolours which have seen much use and love, the hinges rusted and the inside of the palette smeared with dried mixed paint. Turning to the bedside table, you pull open the bottom drawer on accident. You come face to face with corny porno magazines, a box of tissues, two wrapped condoms and a half empty bottle of painkillers.

“Gross,” you mutter, slamming it shut. Yep, this was definitely a dude’s bedroom.

The top drawer is empty, like John B promised. You fill it with your paints and sketchbooks and pencils.

As the day ploughs on, the room becomes increasingly saturated with your personality. Postcards from Colorado, of the towns and cities you visited, photographs from school of your friends and classmates: you scatter them along them wall, amongst John B’s. Some of your favourite paintings, alongside artists which inspire you, join the mix. On the desk you add a few of your own books to the haphazard stack of abandoned homework and school reports.

At the bottom of your duffle bag is your penny board. You look around the room, searching for empty space to slot it without adding to already cluttered surroundings, and opt to slot it under the bed. Ducking down, you come face to face with a collection of empty beer cans. Clearly the spring cleaning only went so far. It’s noisy as you drag them out, but you’re certain you hear someone shouting. Pausing, sitting back on your haunches, you turn to peer out the open bedroom door. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear footsteps.

“Yo! JB, you home?”

It’s a guy shouting. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. When he comes into the corridor, he glances into Big John’s bedroom (now claimed by your older half-brother) first. Blonde messy hair and well-worn combat boots instantly name him. JJ.  He turns to the spare bedroom and stops short the moment his eyes land on you, sat amongst a pile of trash.

“You’re not John B,” he says.

“What gave me away?” you reply with a lift of your brows.

There’s a long awkward moment where he stares at you. You can practically hear the cogs turning as he takes you in. When you lift your arm up to scratch the back of your neck, realisation dawns upon him. You imagine your scar on the outside of your elbow gave you away.

“Holy crap! Little Routledge?” he gapes.

You laugh. “Haven’t been called that in a minute.”

JJ steps into the room and you get to your feet. He tackles you into a hug. It’s too short, too sudden, and then he’s stepping away from you again, leaving you dizzy on your feet.

“The fuck? You’re, like, grown now,” he says.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “well, I am sixteen.”

“The fuck!” he repeats. He then takes in where you’re standing, and the state of the room, and frowns. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Colorado with your mom?”

“I was,” you say. You kick one of the cans out the way and fold your arms over your chest, shrugging. “I came back for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s sick!”

You laugh. It’s a nice reaction to have from someone who you haven’t seen for over two years.

“John B gave you his old room then?”

He walks into it as if it’s his own. You watch as he studies the new additions to the wall that you’ve added. Lingers on one of your paintings.

"Yeah, he’s moved into his dad’s, apparently.”

“Yeah, he moved in there a while ago,” JJ tells you. “I’ve been sleeping in here most of the time.”

Your mind flashes back to the bedside drawer stocked with teenage boy necessities. Ah, makes sense. You remember how JJ was when you were a dorky thirteen-year-old. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had girls fawning after him. He was shameless in his reputation. The conversations you overheard between himself and John B as he’d brag about his escapades are seared into your memory, as you felt your wasted preteen heart splinter with every tale. It’s no surprise now that he’s probably just as unruly. Especially considering how he looks. There isn’t much time to ogle though because he’s looking away from the décor, meeting your gaze again.

“That explains all the empty beer cans, then,” you say.

He cringes. “Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shrug. “It’s cool. I need to toss ‘em out but I don’t know where the trash bags are…”

“Oh, right,” he says, breezing past you. His cologne lingers in the air when he leaves. There’s the smallest moment for you to catch your breath as JJ bangs around in the kitchen, and then he reappears with a roll of black bags. Tosses them to you and you catch. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You begin to shove the cans into the bag and JJ starts to help. His black button-up gapes open as he leans over and it takes everything not to glance down his shirt like some pervert.

“How come you didn’t want to stay in Colorado for the summer, then?”

“Change of scenery,” you vaguely reply. It isn’t a complete lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.

“Well, you chose the best summer to come back. Our mission this year is to have the best summer of all time.”

“Pretty lofty goal to set,” you chuckle.

JJ glances up at you, flashing you a grin. “Nah, we got it in the bag.”

You find yourself smiling back, held captive under his stare. When he takes the now full trash bag off you, tying it off, you snap out of it.

“So, where’s your brother at then?” he asks, heading out the room. You follow.

“At work. Said he does jobs for Cameron now.”

“Oh, yeah. Cameron sorta took him under his wing after his dad…went missing,” JJ replies.

You have a feeling that the way people talk about John B’s father is rather doctored.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” you tell him, referring to Big John.

As you step on the porch, the sunlight warms your face. The floorboards creak as you make your way down them, to the garbage can outside.

“It was insane,” JJ says to you. He tosses the trash away. “I mean, we all knew Big John was a bit too into the whole royal-merchant thing but…we never thought it’d go that far, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Scary.”

JJ looks at you a moment longer. Then, he laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’re sixteen now.”

“Can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“What? I look good or something?”

He does a small spin on the spot, arms held out by his sides. You roll your eyes, acting as if you’re unaffected. It’s hard to swallow the reflex reaction of yes.

“Or something,” you say.

JJ takes it in stride. “Well, you look pretty cute yourself considering you’ve been in the mountains for the last three years.”

“I don’t live in the mountains,” you snort. The word ‘cute’ rattles around your head like a pinball.

“You’re taller now too. Practically come up to my shoulders. I remember when me and John B could pick you up by your ankle like a marlin.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you not-so-fondly recall.

JJ grins and steps over to you. Despite both of your growth spurts, you still have to look up at him, and him down at you. His eyes are just as dreamy as you remember them. When you first left for Colorado, you hardly had time to pack. In the midst of chaos, taking a picture of your brother’s best friend didn’t seem all that important. Cut to you spending endless nights trying to remember his eyes, the exact colour and the exact shape. Trying to remember the dimples that popped out when he smiled. The pure joy in his laugh. The way your heart felt like it might explode whenever he looked at you, even if it were for a second.

But when JJ pats your head, your chest deflates.

“Well, see you around, little Routledge,” he says, stepping away. “Tell your brother I was looking for him.”

Because even after all these years, you’re still just John B’s little sister in JJ’s eyes.

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

You stare into your can of cider. In the night, the only light being that from the bonfire John B started up in the backyard, you can’t make out the colour of it. Just the swirling of liquid. You’d spent the last three days working on a watercolour of the marsh side to John B’s house, but you couldn’t capture the movement of the water quite right.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Pope frowns.

“What’s there to be confused about, Pope?” JJ sighs, seemingly exhausted from the questions. There had been an influx of them the minute John B brought you out of the Chateau. “His mom shagged her dad and boom, here she is.”

“Charming mental images there, JJ, thanks,” John B cringes.

You laugh into your drink.

“No, I get that. But…You used to live here, right?” Pope asks you.

You nod.

“But then you moved to Colorado?”

“Yeah?”

“But now you’re back here?”

“Apparently,” you say.

Pope’s frown deepens: apparently that cleared nothing up for him. You’ve never known someone so analytical. “This is complicated,” he observes.

“No shit,” Kiara quips.

It was complicated. Families usually are. You and John B had different dads, in short. Your shared mom cheated on Big John when John B was hardly a year old, putting you around 11 or so months behind him. She ran off to Raleigh with your dad to try and fix their tumultuous relationship, leaving you with Big John for practically thirteen years. Whilst he wasn't unkind to you, he never saw you as his. You supposed you were a reminder of his ex-wife's unfaithfulness. But John B treated you like blood, as did his friends.

Just after your thirteen birthday, your mom decided to flee the state, and she was taking you with her. It all came out of the blue. You weren’t exactly thrilled to go to Colorado. You liked Kildare, and North Carolina, and John B and his friends. Kiara was always nice to you. She never talked down to you, despite you being seen as John B’s little sister. You bonded over turtles and Bob Marley. JJ was different. He’d prank you with John B and tease you about your dolls, but he’d also patch you up if you fell and calm you down after a nightmare. Your crush on him evolved naturally over time. What started as childhood infatuation with the supposed delinquent of Kildare became real. You liked JJ. He was funny and rambunctious, but he had a kindness and tenderness that he kept hidden below. He was often at the house as his own family situation was far from perfect, so having him around became as familiar as John B’s presence. When you left, JJ gave you a hug that you wished would last a lifetime.

But you drifted away in Colorado. You didn’t have anybody’s phone number, save for Big John’s (which your mom refused to let you use), and you were too young to remember addresses to write to them. Social media was never something you latched onto and eventually it all faded away into a strange, dreamlike memory. Being back here is almost proof that you didn’t imagine the whole thing.

“We’re half siblings,” you say, whittling down your family history into a simple statement. “That’s all you really need to know.”

“Damn straight,” JJ whoops, downing the last of his drink. He crunches the can in his fist and heads to the cooler for another.

“You’re staying for the whole summer then?” Kiara asks.

You nod. “I’m tryna get a job at this restaurant in town to keep me busy.”

“Screw that. Just come smoke and surf with us all day, that’ll keep you occupied,” JJ grins.

He’s comfortable in himself, relaxing in a lawn chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His t-shirt represents one of Kildare’s small-town establishments and his shorts are stained with dust and dirt from riding his bike.

“She’s the good one out of us lot,” John B announces, gesturing to you. “Out of all the Routledge offspring, she’s gonna go places. You’re not gonna taint that, JJ.”

“And by ‘all the Routledge offspring’ you mean yourself and her?” Pope checks.

John B nods fervently. “I’m telling you! She’s madly talented.”

“You’re drunk; it’s giving you beer goggles,” you dismiss, finishing your drink.

“You were always the creative one,” JJ remarks. Everyone looks over to him. “Me and John B would be out on the water and she’d be drawing it.”

“Maybe you can show us some of your stuff,” Kiara says.

You laugh and shake your head. “Maybe not.”

The alcohol wizzes up your body as you get to your feet and you take it as a good time to call it quits.

“I think I’m gonna head in.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Come on!”

You laugh, shaking off the group’s disputes. “I’m tired!”

“Lightweight,” JJ teases. You flip him off as you pass, ditching your empty can in the garbage as you go.

“Night guys!” you holler as you head back into the house.

“Night!”

The bedroom John B offered you is starting to feel less like a guest house. You shrug off your cardigan – it stinks of smoke from the fire – and close the door. Through the window, you can hear the group chattering.

Pope seems nice. He hadn’t been around when you lived in Kildare, but you recognised his name. Heyward was a legend on the Cut; you could see his dad in his eyes. Kiara was just as you remembered her, if not more consumed by her environmental activism than before. JJ was the most staggering change of all. He’d grown into his looks, matured around the face. Any puppy fat that you remembered from childhood had vanished. Lithe and lively, he was an American heartthrob, through and through.

As you do your skincare, you glance out the window. You can make out JJ, sat with his back to you. His arms are flailing around as he tells a story. You can’t make out the details through the window but the looks on everyone’s faces tells you it’s pretty damn entertaining. He was always the joker, humour hiding whatever was happening underneath like he was arming himself with a grin. The unexplained bruises on his face and the painful batterings on his body were never explained whenever he’d stay at Big John’s, when you were younger.

The moment he shifts in his seat, you dart away from the window, scared to get caught, and finish getting ready for bed.

A bad dream rouses you awake. It was about Colorado. The warped memories keep you from falling back asleep, no matter how hard you try. Sighing, you stare at the ceiling. The room is bathed in moonlight, cosy in the wooden interior, and you contemplate sitting outside for a bit. The same cardigan from earlier gets pulled on over your vest top and you slip into some crocs.

You head for the front door, creeping past John B’s room, and step onto the porch. There’s a warm, humid air in the night. The crickets and owls harmonise with the faint buzz of mosquitos who surround the porch light. That’s when you realise that it’s already on, and you’re not alone. JJ’s on the porch, laid out on the sofa. He’s smoking a joint. The smell of weed merges into that of the dying embers from the abandoned, extinguished bonfire. You rap gently on the wall as you approach, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at the sound.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you say. “I thought everyone went home.”

“They did. I’m crashing here tonight. My dad’s…”

He falters, glances up at you, and shakes his head.

“Don’t need to bore you with it.”

“You’re not boring,” you hear yourself tell him.

Smiling, JJ offers the joint to you. You take it, sitting down in the red armchair at the foot of the sofa. The weed consumes your senses when you take a drag, hitting the back of your throat and dulling your thoughts.

“Haven’t smoked in ages,” you say.

“Big smoking community out in Colorado?” JJ asks.

You laugh. “Not where I live, no.”

He takes the joint back when you lean over to him. Tilts his head back as he takes another hit. He’s in the same clothes as earlier, hasn’t even taken off his boots; his hair is tousled like he tried to sleep but couldn’t. You’re caught in the act of staring at him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a joke. Instead, he holds your gaze. It’s almost like a silent challenge: who’ll break first?

“Can I say something kinda inappropriate?” he asks.

“I feel like you have to, now.”

JJ grins at that, amused. “You’re way cuter than I remember you.”

“Oh? You mean sweaty thirteen-year-old, chalk-highlight-pink-hair wasn’t cute?” you joke.

Shaking his head, he adds, “No. Well, yeah, but not in the way you are now.”

Your stomach tightens and heart constricts, and you wish you had the joint to have something to distract yourself with. You hope you sound calm and collected when you say, “thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” JJ jokes. He takes another long, deep drag. “Is it nice? Being back in Kildare?”

You glance off to the marsh. You forgot to check the time when you got up but judging from the endless navy blue of the sky, it’s still late.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

You look back to him. “It’s better than Colorado.”

“So, you’re not missing home then?”

The blunt is passed back to you. Taking a drag, you ponder his question. “I don’t think I know where home is right now. I don’t think it’s Colorado, but I don’t know if it’s here either. Maybe I don’t have one.”

JJ doesn’t say anything and you remember yourself. Laughing self-deprecatingly, you shake your head.

“Sorry, think this joint’s going to my head. That was dramatic.”

“No, no, I get ya,” JJ assures. “I know what you mean.”

“You don’t like Kildare?” you ask him.

His expression darkens like a shadow has cast over him. “It depends.”

“Hm,” you say. Nothing more is said on the matter. You get the sense that JJ was vague on purpose.

Pulling your legs into your seat, you glance around at the clutter on the porch. A surfboard is lent against the nett lining of the porch; a rusting duck ornament balances on one of the beams. What looks to be a broken radio sits beside a half-full bottle of rum on a small table by the couch.

“I think it’s good for John B, having you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ smiles. “He sorta spun out when his dad disappeared. You’re kinda the only family he has left.”

“You’re his family too. Been around longer than I have,” you tell him.

JJ’s smile softens. He glances away from you, fiddling with the paper of the joint, almost as if he’s flustered. “Thanks.”

“So,” you say, “you got some poor girl on this island falling after you?”

“Rude of you to assume there’s only one,” JJ grins wickedly.

You roll your eyes.

“What about you? Some West Coast jock waiting for you back in the home state?”

The sarcastic ‘har har’ that he gets has JJ frowning, bemused.

“Definitely no guy, and definitely no jock.”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” JJ says.

Before you can ask what he means by that, or spiral out by thinking too much about it, JJ’s getting to his feet. He puts the blunt out on the window ledge, ditching the empty butt in a filthy dish. Stretching his arms over his head, sighing, you watch as his t-shirt rides up. The tensing of his abdominal muscles is like torture. God, to run your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, tangle them in the salt-soaked strands of his hair…

“Right, night Little Routledge,” JJ says.

You blink away from his chest and meet his gaze. There’s a strange expression on his face, one you don’t recognise, and you want to scrutinise it and find out what it means. But it’s gone in a flash, as is he as he heads back into the house. You watch through the window as his silhouette drops onto the pull-out sofa.

It takes a minute to regain your composure.

You can’t think of JJ like that. He certainly doesn’t think of you like that, and that childhood crush has long been put to bed. Shaking it awake is the last thing you need right now. Besides, he’s John B’s best friend. Your brother’s best friend. The same brother who’s taken you back into his house, offered you a room, free of charge, without complaint or question. And it seems like John B needs as many people around him as possible right now. But it’s hard to maintain that line of thought, when as you lie back down in your bed, desperate to get some sleep, you can vividly picture the slit of JJ’s chest that you were privy to just moments ago when you close your eyes.

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

You follow Tom through the restaurant. He’s the supervisor, eighteen and a fresh high school graduate. It’s hard to keep up with him as he points things out: waiter’s station; kitchen; storeroom…You’d forgotten how overwhelming job orientations can be.

“And this,” he pushes a door open, “is the staff room.”

You glance in and take in the messy pile of shoes, the overflowing trash can, and the three coat pegs overwhelmed with bags and hoodies.

“Love what you’ve done with the space.”

Tom laughs. He closes the door and leans against the doorframe. Broad shouldered, he stands taller than you by a couple inches.

“So, what made you want to work here?”

“I’m really interested in not being broke,” you reply, making him laugh.

“You new to the island? Feel like I haven’t seen you around?”

“This island that small?”

“Or you’re just that unforgettable,” he smoothly returns.

Your face fires up. Laughing nervously, you shift your stance. “I just moved in with my half-brother for the summer. Need something to keep me busy for a few months.”

“Ah, sweet. Anyone I’d know?”

“Dunno,” you say. He starts back into the main restaurant building. They haven’t opened yet. It’s void of life. “John B Routledge?”

“Oh shit, yeah. JB,” he says, flashing you a grin.

He’s charming in a disarming way. The kind of face that a modelling agency would swipe up because of his easy marketability.

When the two of you approach the bar, there’s a girl stood polishing wine glasses. She looks to be about your age, maybe a couple of years older. Her smile is sweet and welcoming like warm hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Hey, Lizzy. This is the new starter,” Tom introduces.

“I’m guessing I got the job then?” you ask him. He nods. With that, you offer a hand to Lizzy.

“Nice to meet ya,” she says, shaking it. “Could do with more girls around here.”

“Happy to help,” you reply.

“So, you think you can cover a shift tomorrow night? I figured cause you’ve waitressed before it shouldn’t take too long for you to learn the ropes here,” Tom says.

You nod. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.

You bid farewell to himself and Lizzy, seeing yourself out the front door. The restaurant is in the heart of the cut, surrounded by other small businesses and hipster start-ups. You begin the journey home, plugging in your headphones and submerging yourself in Reggae music. Children play in the local park and preteens chatter as they speed past you on their bikes. There’s a warm breeze that brushes past you; it smells of sea water and fried fish. You’re passing the harbour. Eyes land on Heyward’s store, the logo just as you remember it from all those years ago. It’s surreal being back.

When your phone buzzes, you pause your sightseeing to check it. It might be John B asking after the interview. Your throat closes up when you see your mom’s contact pop up. A text. ‘Call me back.’

Just like that, you’re dragged out of Kildare and are back in Colorado.

It’s impossible to ignore the text, but you do your best either way. You don’t even remember half the journey to the Chateau as you walk through the door. JJ is home. He’s sat at the messy dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. Tugging out your earbuds, you give a small wave hello.

“How’d the interview go? That was today, right?”

“Smashed it. Got the job,” you say.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

You ditch your bag by the door along with your phone. Taking the seat opposite him, you sit cross-legged on the wooden chair. The sketchbook you’d abandoned earlier lays dormant. Opening it up, you flick to your latest piece of the marsh. It’s coming together rather well. You’d decided to add the H.M.S Pogue, sat harboured on the grass. JJ peers over his bowl to the painting.

“Holy shit. That’s sick,” he says through his mouthful of Captain Crunch.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m pretty happy with how it’s come out, considering how old these paints are.”

JJ watches as you crack open the aforementioned watercolours. The smell of artificial paint teases the air. Dampening a thin brush in the mason jar of water, you dip into the blue.

“They bad quality or something?”

“A little. They best ones are Winsor and Newton, but I can’t justify spending over twenty bucks on paints.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly got a gift,” JJ says.

You hate how casual he is when he says things like that to you. Like it doesn’t knock the breath out of you like a sucker punch to the chest.

“S’just practice,” you mumble.

You can feel his gaze as you paint. Resting your chin in your hand, you work at the water under the jetty, trying to perfect the shading. You want to feel as though you can walk into the painting; like you could drown in the crystal clean waves.

Painting had become an escape when you were in Colorado. Whatever you could remember of Kildare, you’d paint. When that well ran dry, you began to paint places you wished you could go. Anywhere but the dilapidating family home you’d found yourself in. Secret gardens made of twisting ivy and crumbling, ornate statues hidden amongst orchids and rose bushes. Cosmic planes with make-believe ice cream stations snuck onto Mars and Venus; whales which bathed in the stars and caught a tan in moonbeams. Underwater societies full of sea kelp and multicoloured coral reefs, with octopi hiding amongst crabs and shellfish.

You glance up to find JJ transfixed on the painting. There’s a crease between his brows as if he’s the one concentrating. It makes you laugh, quiet and under breath, and he looks up. Holds your stare.

“That’s amazing, that you can just do that,” JJ says, remarking to your work.

You swallow the sickly rush that his words give you. His tongue dampens his lower lip, tantalisingly slow. You feel it hit somewhere deep inside of you. Something in the air shifts.

Then, so quiet neither of you can be sure he really said it, he utters, “you’re amazing.”

“Yo!”

The door swings open with your brother’s arrival. Your head spins over your shoulder to the front door. John B stands holding a bag of takeout burgers in the air beside his head.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” JJ says.

When you look to him, it feels as if you could have imagined the whole interaction had just moments ago. JJ’s sat in his seat as he was before, unfazed.

He abandons his cereal and follows John B into the kitchen like a starving dog, begging for food. You place your paintbrush back into the water and join them. John B unpacks the burgers and fries onto half-clean plates. You watch JJ toss a fry into the air and catch it, whooping in celebration. A plate is handed back to you, over John B’s shoulder.

“Beef burger with cheese, no pickles.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song, taking the plate off him.

JJ turns around and looks at you with faux disgust. “No pickles?”

You shake your head, heading back to the table. JJ and John B join you with their own quick dinners, and the three of you eat. You tell John B about the summer job you secured, and he tells you and JJ about Sarah Cameron and her new boy-toy Topper. JJ says he’s “biceps without a brain” when you ask which one Topper is.

“That can’t be his real name,” you snort.

“Oh, it is,” John B replies.

“His name is almost as dumb as he is,” JJ sniggers.

There’s the sound of chewing and swallowing.

“Two official weeks into summer,” John B randomly announces.

You quirk a brow. “Two weeks since I came back to Kildare.”

JJ holds his cup of soda up in a toast. John B wipes his mouth and raises his own, as do you. The three of you clink cups, smiling at the stupidity. As you bring your cup to your lips to drink, you find your eyes meeting JJ’s across the table. He holds your gaze as he sips, swallows and licks his lips of the sugar. You feel it hit somewhere deep, deep inside of you. JJ looks back to John B and starts recounting his tales of the day fishing, leaving you stumped.

What the hell was that?

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

As your days in Kildare stretch on, your imagination becomes your most loved and loathed place all at once.

The Pogues had taken you under their wing without a second thought. It felt as if it wasn’t just because you were John B’s younger sister. Kiara would spend hours talking to you about music and star signs. Pope would discuss books and artists that he’d read about, falling into a huge debate about whether Andy Warhol is as legendary as everyone makes him out to be (the answer is, of course, yes). You and John B connected as brother and sister, filling that hole of ‘family’ that had been taken from both of you within the past year. Movie nights sharing popcorn and critiquing corny horror films, and mornings spent tending to the yard and fishing at the jetty: you felt yourself coming back bit by bit, in the company of the brunette.

But spending time with the Pogues came with spending more time with JJ. That little childhood crush that you’d claimed had succumb a long, undisturbed slumber…Oh, she had been awoken. Him staying over more and more on the pull-out when him and his dad ‘got into a thing’ meant the throw pillows smelt like his cologne and soap. He’d offer you his sweatshirt when sat around the bonfire on evenings drinking, and the warm distinct smell of him would consume you, drown you in the pheromones, affecting you like some pathetic animal in heat. Days spent surfing and sunbathing at the break gave you space to shamelessly ogle his bare chest, splattered in sea water, scorched and tanned with sunlight. The ripple of his lats when wearing his useless muscle tees as he waxed his board in the surf shack. His jawline strong and steely when annoyed or focused, with faint blonde stubble a week after shaving. But you swear he knew how it affected you. Swear he knew it drove you crazy whenever he’d fleetingly touch your back, brushing past you in the kitchen to grab a drink, or adjust your grip when helping him fix up his bike. When sharing a blunt on the porch (as you often did when sleep couldn’t come), he’d take his time passing it to you, fingers brushing. Innocent, incidental touches that felt calculated and planned. The way his eyes would gaze into yours, like he could read your thoughts and decipher your wants. A vague, barely-there smirk to his lips, constantly tortured by his tongue and teeth…

God, your whole body feels as if it has been on fire for the past week.

You blame your overactive thoughts of JJ on your boredom. Working at the restaurant hadn’t been sufficient distraction from the mess that is your life right now. Even now, as you stand before the till, typing through an order for the kitchen and bar, you feel your mind wandering. To thoughts of the Chateau, and to a certain blonde-haired guy sprawled on the pull-out sofa, shirtless, back on proud display…

“You gonna be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t be,” you say to Tom.

You hope your embarrassment doesn’t read on your face. It’s not as if he could hear your thoughts, so you’re not sure why you feel caught in the act. You finish selecting the sides for table 16 and press ‘store table’. Stepping to the side to grab some side plates, Tom takes over the till.

He’s nice. Makes you laugh a lot at work, as you slander rude tables and gush over those that tip an extra twenty.

After depositing the side plates at the table, you head to the bar to run the drinks you put through. Lizzy is mixing the cocktail you ordered. She pours rum into a shaker and then passionfruit puree.

“Can I ask you something?” you say to her.

She glances over. The two of you had gotten closer at work. You were hoping to hang out with her one time down at the beach, or maybe grab lunch after a morning shift. She runs a hand over her buzzcut hair style and nods.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?”

“Bit deep to be asking that at eight o’clock at night, don’t you think?” she smirks.

You roll your eyes. As she goes on making the cocktail, you elaborate. “I have this dumbass crush on this guy which I know I shouldn’t have…I just feel bad for thinking about him so much.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she snorts.

There’s the loud rattle of ice against stainless steel as Lizzy shakes the cocktail. Then, as she strains it into a martini glass, she looks up at you once more.    

“Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Is it Tom?”

And, no, it isn’t Tom, but maybe saying it is means she won’t keep digging. You’d rather keep your embarrassing years-long infatuation with your brother’s best friend close to the chest. So, you do your best to look meek as you nod.

“Holy shit! Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s totally into you,” Lizzy tells you.

“He is?”

“Hell yeah. Guy practically ogles you across the room,” she says.

You glance over to Tom. He’s stood before a table, talking away, scribbling down their order on a notepad. At the feeling of being watched, he looks up and meets your gaze. You flash him a small smile and he mirrors it quickly before returning his focus to the task at hand.

“So, do you?”

“Think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?” Lizzy checks. You nod. She ponders the question whilst garnishing the cocktail. “No. No, I think only actions talk. I mean, I think bad things all the time about customers who are dicks. I could put glass in their drinks: that’d show them sort of thing. But I don’t actually put glass in their drinks, so I’m off the hook. Nobody’s the wiser.”

It’s a somewhat extreme example but it gets the point across. You take the tray and nod.

“I mean, maybe fantasising about it might be cathartic. Get it out your system, you know?” Her sly wink speaks volumes as to what these ‘fantasies’ are about. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Lizz. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

With that, you walk over table 16 and deliver their drinks. The rest of the shift passes by rather quickly. You end up making a bet with Tom that you can sell more pints of larger than him and come up victorious, leaving work with an extra ten dollars in your pockets.

The streets are painted sunset purple, orange and pink. You spot John B’s campervan, known as The Twinkie, in the parking lot; he’d promised to pick you up after work tonight. But as you walk up to the passenger side, you realise it’s JJ behind the wheel. You’re not sure if the feeling of your organs shrinking is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Where’s John B?” you ask, climbing in beside him.

“Nice way to say, ‘hi JJ, it’s so good to see you!’”

“Okay, hi JJ,” you say, rolling your eyes. He starts the engine. “Now, where’s my brother?”

“He had to go do something for Cameron.”

“At ten at night?”

“Dude, I just work here, a’right? I do as he says so he lets me stay on his sofa,” JJ says. You laugh.

The radio kicks on and ‘Downtown Lights’ starts to play. You look out the window as he drives, watching the houses fade into overgrow and trees.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We can swing by a Wendy’s on the way home, if you wanna,” JJ says.

You smile as you look over to him, nodding. With that, he takes the next left and the two of you make your way in comfortable silence to the drive through. At the worker’s request, JJ recounts his order: two hamburgers, both with cheese, one without pickles. Oh and a large Pepsi.

As he pulls forward to pay, you say, “you remembered I don’t like pickles?”

He glances over to you like you’re stupid for even asking. “Course.”

Food secured, Pepsi in the cupholder for you both to share, you start the journey to the Chateau.

“Feed me a fry?”

You laugh and oblige. It’s the least you can do, considering he bought you takeout, after all. You turf one out the brown paper bag and hold up to his lips. His breath fans against your fingers as he takes it. Chews and swallows. You managed to tear your eyes away. That man could yawn and you’d be mesmerised, you swear. It’s pathetic.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

The ride back is over way too soon. You take what’s left of your food and your bag, opening the door. “You staying over tonight?”

JJ contemplates a moment before shaking his head. He studies his hands as they run up and over the steering wheel when he says, “no. No, I gotta go home sometime.”

“Right,” you quietly say. The last fight him and his dad got in was ugly. He came over, shaking with anger, a purple bruise forming under his eye. It scared the shit out of you to let him go back there alone. “Well, thanks for the food.”

JJ looks up from the steering wheel and takes you in. His lips move, like he wants to say something, but he seems to abandon the thought. You take it as your cue to leave.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, Little Routledge.”

You hate that nickname. The resentment is thick to swallow as you say goodnight, stepping out the van.

John B isn’t home when you walk into the Chateau. The lights are off, dirty dishes piled up in the sink. The sofa bed is unmade from the last time JJ slept on it. You contemplate crashing on it for the night, just so you can feel as if you’re near to him, but you know that’s insane. If John B were to find you there, he’d only be concerned that something was wrong with your own room, either way. So you trundle back to your bedroom and strip out of your uniform. Makeup rinsed off and teeth brushed, you crawl into bed and drift off easily.

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

His lips are hot and wet on your skin, kissing down your stomach. Your breathing’s laboured like you’re fighting an adrenaline rush. He seems to notice, laughing darkly against your tummy.

“So wound up already and I’ve barely touched you,” JJ croons in his southern drawl.

Your eyes slip shut, fighting back a whimper as his fingers dip teasingly into the waistband of your panties. A moan finally lets slip at the sensation of his lips pressing against your crotch, over the cotton.

“You want it?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

“Yes, JJ, please.”

It’s embarrassing to beg but you don’t have much left in your mind other than thoughts of him to even care.

Fingers knotting into his hair, you try and coax him lower still. And he obliges. Drags your panties down your legs like time is a luxury. You wonder if he likes teasing you; if it brings him pleasure like the feeling of his hands on your body does for you. He leans back on his haunches and runs his palms up and down your thighs, staring at you exposed pussy. His shark tooth necklace sits against his toned chest and you’re jealous of how close it gets to be to him.

“Fuck,” JJ groans as you open your legs.

He leans back down and nuzzles your inner thigh, pressing a sharp kiss with his teeth, sucking in the skin and relishing your pleasured yelp. It feels as if he’s marking you as he leaves the hickey: mine.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this.”

Before you can let out another pathetic plea, JJ situates himself between your legs and goes down on you. Eats you out like a man who’s been lost at sea, like a man starved. Sighs at the taste of you on his tongue, kissing at your thighs as if to catch his breath, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. The damp of his tongue laps at your clit and your legs lock around him in a vice. He’s indefatigable, insatiable and…it’s too much.

“I can’t,” you whine hopelessly. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, eyes clenched shut.

“Come on,” JJ preens. “Wanna see you come.”

He leans close to your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth, and slips a finger into your seeping hole. Your orgasm comes like waves crashing over splintered rocks; breathing jagged and vision blurring behind eyelids. Somewhere in the euphoric haze you cry out his name. Flashes of colour blending into a mercurial high as he works you through your ecstasy, unrelenting.

You gasp awake.

Had you been sleeping?

Your forehead is damp with sweat, throat parched and chest heaving. Anyone would have thought you’d have just sprinted three miles. When you sit up in bed, you register the pulsing between your legs and the telltale stickiness of your thighs.

Shit. Good thing there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.

Wiping at your face, your skin feels red hot. You venture to the bathroom and drink water from the faucet. Making eye contact with yourself is too hard right now, considering you just had the most incredible wet dream about your brother’s best friend. Now that the high is passing, you’re overcome with shame and guilt. You’re delusional. Maybe you should submit yourself to be sectioned. Would be a good way to kill some of these summer weeks…

Heading back to bed feels like returning to the scene of a crime. Instead, you head out onto the porch, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. John B’s a deep sleeper, you’ve come to learn. You’ve never heard him get up in the night, in all your moments of insomnia. There’s no risk of crossing paths with him out here.

Stepping out onto the paint-peeled floorboards, you notice he forgot to turn off the porch light when he came home. Great, I guess I know where my wage is going. But as you head to your favourite red armchair, ready to gaze out at the marsh and watch the waterside plants dance in the breeze, you freeze.

JJ’s on the sofa. And he’s awake. You can tell just from where you’re stood.

Before you can flee back to your room, the floorboard creaks. JJ jolts up and looks around, eyes landing on you. You swallow. The moment you lay eyes on him, part of your dream comes screaming back to you. The way your voice cracked as you cried out his name, tumbling over the edge. You quickly shun away the thoughts, slamming them closed in a box, before your body can lose itself to the fantasy once more. Please God tell me that I didn’t actually scream his name.

“Hi,” you dumbly say.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” you say.

JJ shrugs. “Change of plans, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He looks back ahead at the armchair, back to you, and you can’t help but pull a face akin to holy shit what the fuck do I do? When he holds up a joint, you decide to stay. Panties are just the same as a bikini anyway, and he’s seen you in those. You make sure to wear your cutest ones when he’s surfing with you. The ones that are tight in all the right places and hug your figure in a way that you wished he would. Oh my God, shut up. You wordlessly take the joint as you quickly step past him, planting yourself in the armchair. You pull your legs up and sit atop of them, taking a long drag to try and calm your racing mind and heart. Inspecting the floor seems a good thing to do, suddenly. The divots in the wood from worms and the strips of paint. Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on your legs. His gaze diverts when you lean forward, offering him the blunt again. As he lifts himself to take it, you see him wince, and now in the light of the porch, fully taking him in you, you can make out the bloody cut beside his eye.

“Jesus Christ, JayJ.”

“It’s fine,” he reflexively says. He takes another hit. “Just need some self-medication.”

“Bullshit. You need to clean that thing ‘fore it gets infected.”

“Be my guest,” JJ scoffs.

With that, you get to your feet and head back into the house. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink. It’s probably the least dusty thing in the whole room. Returning to him, you forget all about the reason that you got up in the first place and shove it to the back of your mind. This was more important than worrying about some dumb dream. Shoving his legs off the couch, you force him to make space for you. You place the first aid kit on your lap and open it. JJ keeps smoking. The smell of weed clouds your senses. Picking out a disinfectant wipe, you turn to him.

“This’ll sting,” you say, opening the packet.

“That’s what she said.”

You frown. “What kind of kinky ass sex are you having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he grins.

For a moment dread drops down your body, chilling your spine. Did he hear you? No, no he couldn’t have. You probably didn’t make a noise. He’s just being his usual, salacious self.

You take his jawline in hold gently between your fingers. The bone is hard beneath the soft of his skin; fine stubble scratches your fingertips. Leaning up, you try not to get distracted in his eyes as you dab at the cut. You apologise as he hisses. It doesn’t look as intimidating when clean of blood, which is more than a relief. You dip back into the first aid kit and offer up two band aids. One is plain nude and the other Hello Kitty.

“Take your pick.”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs the Hello Kitty one, holding it out to you. You shift onto your knees, bending over him to plant it over his cut. You notice a bruise forming on his cheek bone on the other side, and a cut lip. You should have insisted he stayed over when he dropped you off. He looks up, as if he can hear your thoughts, and meets your gaze. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to move away.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly says.

You swallow. It’s scary how easy he can read you. Makes you worry what other thoughts he can tell from your face. “Wished you just stayed here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hate the thought of you going back to that house.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiles. “But if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t have you here taking care of me.”

“Oh, was it all part of your masterplan?” you joke, finding your smile again. His seems to grow at the sight.

“Something like that.”

When his lips press to yours, you’re taken aback. It feels like fire, searing hot, and you flinch like you’ve been burnt. You gape at him, wide eyed, and it seems to register what he’s just done. You both move to put as much space between you as possible, as if trying to keep the blaze from spreading.

“Shit, I—”

“I should go back to bed,” you hurry out.

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. Course.”

In your scramble to get back to your feet and back in your room, the first aid kit falls to the floor, the contents spilling out. You cuss and drop to your knees, rushing to retrieve all the clutter. JJ joins you, passing you gloves and bandages. You find some nerve to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice…It’s painful.

“It’s okay. I don’t…It isn’t…”

You sigh. Your speech is just as messed as your mind. Closing your eyes, gathering your words, you take a deep breath. Looking back to JJ, you shake your head.

“We can’t.”

“I know,” he replies, almost sadly. Nods once more. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…high. And tired.”

“Right. Course.”

And whilst his excuses should sting, they don’t, because you don’t believe them. JJ smokes enough weed to not be affected all that much by half a joint. But you don’t argue. Instead, you close the box and go to head inside. You stop in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

You spare him one last glance. He’s on the floor, head hung and back to you, and you consider staying. But you don’t. You go straight to bed, acting as if a fresh start tomorrow will reset the entire thing.

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

In the morning, JJ’s gone. John B doesn’t seem to have even realised he’d stayed over. You find your older brother in the kitchen, washing up the dirty dishes. Swiping up a towel, you come to help.

“Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he grins. “You still up for that keggar tonight, at the boneyard?”

“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeah. All the others are going,” John B says.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I think I’m catching a ride with Lizzy from work.”

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I will,” you drawl. He smiles at you before turning back to the washing up. “Hey, John B?”

���Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“Yeah, course,” he says. He pauses his handy work, turning his attention to you. “You’ve always got a bed to crash on here, even if child services are up my ass.”

“I appreciate it. I really needed to get out of Colorado.”

The seven missed calls from your mom slip into your mind. Her texts go unanswered, but she knows you read them. You don’t want her to think you’re in danger. Talking to her is just too much right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I needed you back too,” he says. “Things have been kinda messy since my dad…disappeared. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.”

“You’re never gonna be on your own, though,” you smile. “The Pogues would do anything for you. It’s actually kinda scary.”

John B laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, they’re, uh, not the smartest.”

“Apart from Pope,” you point out. He nods, smiling as he looks back to the soapy water.

“Yeah, apart from Pope.”

“JJ cares about you a lot,” you feel the need to add. His voice last night, apology ready, after your kiss, echoes in your mind.

“I know. I feel like you two are the best things in my life right now,” John B admits. The guilt multiples by tenfold with that. You fix your face when he looks to you. “So, thanks.”

“No worries, big bro,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He laughs. “Thanks, little sis.”

With that, you both continue cleaning the pots. The shame from last night gets shoved down into the deepest, darkest pit of your stomach, and you try to go about your day without sparing another thought to JJ.

On the way to the keggar, Lizzy grills you about your ‘crush’ on Tom. “He’s gonna be there tonight, I think.”

“Oh, really?” you say. You know you don’t sound enthused. It’s too much effort to pretend.

“Everything good?” she frowns, glancing away from the road.

You nod and plaster on a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired, I think.”

“Couple drinks in you and you’ll be wide awake, I promise,” she assures.

Nodding, you shift in your seat and look out the window. Your skirt rides up in the processes. It’s a little short but it’s so ridiculously hot tonight, you can’t seem to care. A crotchet style crop-top dresses down the outfit. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard for a beachside keggar. As you pull up closer to the boneyard, cars line the roads. Lizzy finds a spot and parks. You grab the crate of Budlight and her the box of White Claw, and you hop out the car towards the beach. Her stories about work and school have brightened your mood.

She’s tall and remarkably cool in a way that you never will be. She has stick and poke tattoos on her knees and elbows, and nine piercings on one ear. Her nose ring and snake bite piercings are far from intimidating on her cherub like features. The buzzcut has been dyed neon blue, standing bright against her dark skin. As you pass groups of teens, she shouts hello to those she recognises and shares the odd bro-hug.

You add your drinks to the pile of booze before grabbing a can, cracking it open. A quick scan of the scene tells you that the Pogues are still pre-drinking at the Chateau. You’d managed to dodge JJ so far.

“This is a pretty decent turn out,” Lizzy tells you, swigging from her can.

“Know a lot of people here?”

“Sure,” she says. She points to a gaggle of polo-shirt wearing pretty boys who look like they could snap you with one finger. “Those are the gym rat kooks. That tall blonde Topper is with the princess of Figure Eight, Sarah Cameron.”

JJ was right: biceps without a brain. You watch as he shotguns a drink and cracks the can on his forehead. Sarah Cameron, blonde hair straight flowing down her back, does not look impressed.

“And her brother Rafe. That guy’s all kinds of whacked out,” Lizzy mutters. You follow her finger to spot a tall, short haired guy. He looks unapproachable, even from far away.

“Yo Lizzy!”

You both turn to find a crowd of girls and guys. One of them is waving at Lizzy and she waves back.

“Come on, I know these guys. They’re cool,” she tells you, taking your hand and guiding you over.

You’re introduced to everyone and soon enough are roped into beer pong and shots. It’s fun though. Everyone’s having a laugh, cheering each other on. You hear about some good spots to grab food and learn Michael, Lizzy’s closest friend, can drink you under the table. A few hours in and there’s a comfortable buzz to your bones. You haven’t thought about the Pogues, or JJ, or the fleeting kiss all night. As you laugh along to one of Michael’s soccer stories, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to come face to face with Tom.

“Hey,” you smile, squiffy.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I came with Lizzy.”

“Hey, Tom,” she smiles before sending you a more than suggestive look. Oh, shit. The lie. “Hey, why don’t you go get my girl a top up?”

Before you can contest, she’s taking your half full can out of your hand and coaxing you away with an assuring smile. Tom takes it in stride and walks with you to the coolers. He grabs two cans of beer, passing one to you, and you cheers him.

“How you finding Kildare?”

“Good.”

“Yeah? You been hanging with John B’s crowd, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” you smile, nodding. He makes a face before taking a drink. You frown. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. They’re just kinda…well, I mean, some people think they’re bad news.”

“Some people, huh?” you say cautiously.

“Just reputations and all that. Like that JJ guy. He’s got slippery fingers, if you know what I mean,” Tom says, wiggling his own in demonstration.

Suddenly this conversation is very unappealing. You glance off to Lizzy and the others. “I should probably get back to them. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“No, hey, no,” Tom says. He grabs you by the wrist. “Come on, I was being a dick. I’ve had one too many. Let’s just hang, alright? I really wanna get to know you.”

You look between him and Lizzy and sigh. Taking a swig, you shrug. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you off.”

“I like the Pogues. They’re a good group,” you feel the need to defend.

“No, yeah, they are!” Tom agrees. You can smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “I just don’t want you to get corrupted by them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you’re new here—”

“And so I’m clueless on how to judge people?” you finish sardonically.

Tom rolls his eyes and it makes your anger tick. “Come on, you don’t gotta be a bitch about this.”

“What did you just call me? You know what? Forget it,” you scoff, snatching your arm away from his hold. “Have fun drinking on your own.”

But you don’t get very far before he’s grabbing at you again. “Calm down, would you? Just gimme—”

“Let go!” you demand.

His grip only tightens. The strong front you’re putting on begins to crumble under the panic of this guy is way bigger than me.

“Just quit bitching and we can talk,” he says harshly.

“I don’t want to talk. Now please let go of me,” you firmly return.

He doesn’t let go. Keeps chattering away, insisting that you have to hear him out.

“Let go, Tom!”

“Everything good here?”

Your wide eyes look away from Tom and land on JJ, and your whole body relaxes. He’s looking at you and the panic must read clear on your face because his demeanour changes in a split second. Jaw tight, he turns to Tom.

“I think you should let go, man.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Tom scoffs.

JJ takes another step towards him. He towers over Tom by enough to be intimidating. “Think you should listen to her.”

“Oh, I get it,” Tom snarls. He lets go of you and you can feel your skin breathing. You rub at the pink marks, easing the sting. Tom gets into JJ’s face, undeterred from a fight. “You wanna keep John B’s sloppy sister for yourself, huh?”

JJ’s fist flies at Tom’s face, making an ugly, visceral sound as it lands on his left cheek. You gasp. Nearly knocked off balance, Tom stumbles on the sand. The commotion has drawn in somewhat of a crowd. Before you can intervene, Tom’s throwing hands. He aims an upper cut to JJ’s jaw but he’s quick to dodge, landing his own punch instead by Tom’s eyebrow. That one seems to deter him. He trips backwards. The chanting of the crowds egging it on makes you feel sick. You’d just finished patching JJ up last night, and you’ve seen his anger before. It takes control quickly and blinds him to reason. The last thing he needs is to wind up in a cell. So, before he can land another hit, you’re stepping forward and grabbing at his arm, stopping him.

“Come on, let’s just go,” you say pleadingly.

His chest is heaving with anger, breathing short and jaw heavy set and tense. He hesitates, looking between yourself and Tom. He’s still cradling his last hit, trying to regain his composure. Sighing, JJ lets you lead him away. Tom’s heckling is laced with slurs directed at you, and you have to keep a steady grip on JJ to keep him from going back.

“He’s not worth it, JayJ,” you mutter.

“You’re so wrong,” JJ darkly returns, but he doesn’t go back.

Away from the beach, back on the road, you let go. He paces for a moment, trying to calm himself. Tugs off his cap and rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing deep and slow. You don’t speak: just let him go through the motions. Babying him through this isn’t going to help anyone.

Whilst violence isn’t the answer to anything, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for JJ’s help.

Letting him cool off, you take a seat on one of the fallen tree trunks.

“Hey.”

Looking up, JJ walks over. He’s mostly back to himself.

“You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. Just freaked me out a bit. He’s not usually like that. He’s just drunk.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” JJ scoffs. He takes the spot next to you, sitting worryingly close.

The culmination of last night and tonight makes your head spin. The effects of the alcohol vanished the moment Tom took a hold of you. Now you just want to forget the whole thing.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asks.

You turn your head to face him and smile smally, nodding.

“Come on. I brought my bike.”

His red bike is parked beside the Twinkie. He climbs on first and offers a hand to help you onto the back. Your arms slot around his middle, circling around his taught chest, pressing yourself against him. Face resting on the middle of his back, you try not to inhale the smell of him. It might be too much for tonight. His calloused hands on yours have you shifting your hold, ensuring your tight against him like a backpack.

“Good?”

“Good,” you quietly reply.

He kicks off the stand and starts up the engine. You pull away from the keggar and up the road, zipping down the isolated streets. There’s nobody around at this time. Not a soul in sight. It feels so right, wrapped up against him like this, safe in his presence. Tom was wrong: JJ wasn’t bad news. Sure, he was a klepto, but he was the same guy who learnt how to sew to fix your favourite pair of shorts when you were little. The same guy who stepped up when some dirtbag was harassing you. The same guy who remembered you don’t like pickles on your burgers. Who looked at your paintings as if they were Picasso.

Somewhere along the ride, one of JJ’s hands comes to rest on your own. You don’t ask why and don’t pull away. Just let the reassuring weight of his hand on yours stay there and ground you to him like an anchor. Here, flying through the night, you can pretend like all the other shit doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him.

He starts onto a dirt track, slowing down, and a house emerges. Pastel yellow painted exterior hidden behind porch netting. There’s clutter of engines and fishing gear amongst surfing supplies. He pulls to a stop and kicks on the stand, turning off the engine. It’s quiet now, without its rumble. “Your dad home?” you can’t help but ask, staring at the front door.

JJ shakes his head. “No. He’s out on Friday nights. Kinda the only routine he has.”

You don’t ask where and he doesn’t expand. You step off the bike and watch as he clambers off too. Fixing your skirt, you wait for him to talk. He doesn’t. “I should probably head back,” you say. You’re not entirely sure why you came to his place instead. You’d assumed when you got on the bike that he’d take you back the Chateau.

“I mean, we can share a joint first if you want. Help you calm down and stuff, after that shitshow,” JJ half-chuckles.

There’s something heavy in the humid air. It’s hard to describe, hard to place, but you can feel it like static electricity. You find yourself nodding. He nods too and starts up to the house, hands in his black short pockets. You watch his feet sink into the grass and guide your eyes up his figure. His shoulders are tense, dressed under a thin t-shirt. He ditches his cap on the kitchen counter when you walk through the door. Through the house, past the neglection, and to his bedroom. He flicks on the light and clears his throat as he goes to his desk drawer.

You stand, leaning against his door until it clicks closed, and look around his room. There’s a world map pinned to the wall but no markings on it asides from one: Kildare, North Carolina. Print outs of palm trees and pressed, framed butterflies and leaves seem less innocent when placed between posters of models on the beach. The floor is a mess of dirty clothes and empty beer cans. Several dead vapes litter near the overflowing bin, and cigarette and joint buds scatter the windowsill and beside table. But the smell of JJ hangs strong in the air; it makes you smile to yourself.

“Alright,” JJ sighs. The desk drawer slams closed and he turns around, holding up a fresh joint and lighter. His initials are scratched into the metal: JJ. He sits on the bed and places the blunt between his lips, flicking at his lighter. You watch him take a drag and take it off him when he offers it over.

No words are shared as you pass the bud for several minutes. You both glance around the room, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but each other.

“How’s your face?”

“Huh?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes.

You nod to his cheek. “Your cut from the other night?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbles. He lifts a finger and strokes it absentmindedly. “It’s alright.”

“Good.”

JJ hands you the joint again, you take a drag, you pass it back to him. That same feeling from earlier, when you first climbed off the bike, has only amplified.

“So…”

You brave clearing the distance between you. You take the spot next to him on the bed.

“We gonna talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” JJ deflects, studying the floor.

“Well, you kissed me,” you eventually reply, taking the joint back. “So, there’s that.”

“I already told you,” he sighs. “I was tired and doped up.”

When you say nothing, he looks up at you. "What? You think I'm lying?"

You take a drag. Shrugging, you honestly reply, “yeah, a little.”

He holds your gaze as if challenging you to back down. You don’t. Beating around the bush won’t help anything here, and its obvious you can’t go back to acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t move past it until you know why he did.

“S’just weird,” JJ mutters, looking away. “What happened last night, with me and you. S’just weird.”

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” you agree. Swallowing, you take another hit. “But not bad weird, right?”

JJ’s head lifts once more. His eyes flash across your face like he’s searching for some kind of trap. He sucks his teeth in contemplation. “No. Not bad weird.”

Your heart stutters, breathing shaky and unsure. You feel your eyes dart down to his strawberry pink lips, and his to yours. But then he’s shaking his head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know…” you breathe. You’re transfixed on his lips. Can’t move away, can’t bring yourself too. The blunt in your fingers is burning away, ash dropping to the floor, but you don’t care. All of it, everything but JJ, is white noise.

The moment you flit your eyes up to his, something shifts in him. His jaw ticks as he clenches it. Your brows pull in thought but there’s no time for you to ask.

“Fuck it.”

His lips are on yours within a breadth. He consumes your senses like a drug, dulling down anything else until all your thoughts are on him. He grabs for the blunt in your fingers, haphazardly putting it on the bedside table, and then his hands are sliding up along your sides, up your back, into your hair. One finds purchase on your cheek, and you rest your jaw in his hold like a bird settled in its favourite branch. The way he holds you like you’re something holy is different to how sinful his kiss is. It’s pure passion: raw, animalistic heat from weeks of build-up. And, God, it feels so right. The way his tongue brushes against yours, warm in your mouth, heavy in your head. The nip of his teeth on your lips and the fanning of his breath when he has to break for air. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not by anyone. It’s dizzying.

Until it isn’t, and he’s pulling away. His forehead rests against your own. You’re both panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

You slide a hand up his neck, tracing his jawline with your fingers. He practically melts under your touch, eyes slipping shut. “I know,” you whisper distractedly. Your thumb traces his lower lip. It’s swollen from your kisses.

He blinks his eyes open. “I’m serious. He can’t know.”

“He won’t,” you say, going to reconnect your lips.

But JJ stops you. “No, he can’t. He’d…God, he just can’t.”

You want to cry, seeing the moral dilemma weigh on JJ, feeling you share the burden. But the thought of walking away from this, of not feeling every inch of him, of never hearing him fall apart, makes you want to sob.

“Maybe just one time,” you murmur. Your finger traces down his chin, along the centre of his neck. “And we can just get it out of our system.”

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Yeah, one time.”

“Yeah?”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, heavy with lust, and you feel your body ignite. “Touch me, please.”

With that simple mark of consent, JJ’s unchained. He doesn’t hold back when your lips reconnect. Somehow it becomes deeper, rougher, better. It’s such a strange oxymoron, the way he touches you and kisses you. You pull away to remove your crop top, and he takes the moment to strip off his shirt. The two of you are shameless as you take in the other. Reaching out a hand, you run your fingers up his chest in the way that you’ve imagined so many times before. It’s funny how in your head, you’ve already done it. His eyes dip down, watching your hands explore. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his left pectoral, then his right. Sighing, his chest drops up and down with uneven breathes.

“So pretty,” you say through your kisses.

His fingers tether into your hair. There’s a slight tug that sends ripples of pleasure through your body in ways that it shouldn’t as he pulls you away, guiding your lips back to him. As he crawls atop of you, you inch up the bed, skirt riding up. You settle on our back. JJ’s greedy in his touch. Strokes your skin, explores your body, like it’s his own. And in a way it is because you’d give him anything if he asked. When his fingers slip behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, you lift yourself onto your elbows. He holds your gaze as he unfastens it, guiding it off your shoulders, helping it off your arms.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

A smile teases at your lips. It takes a certain type of guy to make you blush at the sound of his curses. Your head rocks back, eyes sinking closed, as his lips latch around your nipple. A hand palms at the skin, teasing your breast, exploring your reactions. You sigh out your pleasure, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. It’s better than you imagined. Tops every fantasy, every wet dream, every sinful thought. And it’s only just begun.

“So fucking sexy,” JJ groans, kissing up your body until he finds your lips.

You don’t want him away from you. He looms over you, encasing you in the safe, consuming feeling of his presence, trapping you in the smell of his cologne and soap that you’ve tried so desperately to avoid. Through the kisses and love bites marked into necks and collarbones, you feel one of his hands ghost the outline of your figure. Traces down so slowly like you might not even notice. Down, down, to your panties. It’s there that he sweeps over your cotton covered mound. You sigh against his lips in anticipation.

“I know you’ve been thinking ‘bout this,” JJ says.

His voice is just as you pictured it: deep and crooning, his Southern accent at forefront. You want to bottle it like brandy and drink it until you black out. His lips work down your neck as he lightly circles your clit over your panties and you can’t stop your moan.

“I heard you, the other night.” Your eyes shoot open. JJ meets your gaze. He’s dying, the desperation clear as day on his face. His eyes themselves could send him straight to hell. There’s the shadow of a smirk.

“Were you thinking of me, whilst you were getting off?”

You go to push him away. The last thing you need is for him to tease you about it and make fun. But he doesn’t let you. Instead, he kisses just below your ear.

“Cause I think about you. Every night since you’ve been back. Can’t jack off to anything else,” he confesses into the crux of your ear. Your only reply is a small, surprised gasp. Your body’s ablaze with his words.

His fingers finally dip below your panties, sliding between your soaking folds. He groans at the sensation and you feel your legs give way. He works at you for a while, toying with you like it’s a side hobby. You’re only half aware of the sounds you make. One of your hands has situated itself on his upper back, nails scratching at the skin. JJ can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s one blasphemy after another, and it drives you deeper and deeper into the abyss. He seems to become impatient. He removes fingers to push your underwear down. You kick them off at the ankles with a small giggle.

The moment his finger sinks into you, you swear you’ve seen heaven. JJ worships you, taking his time to inch you closer and closer to the edge. Another finger, then another. The stretch is heaven. Your back arches off the bed, mouth agape, brain dumb with pleasure. He won’t be quiet. He whispers praises into your ear. Narrates his own fantasies he’s harboured about you. Know you’ve been teasing me with those tiny bikinis. I wish I fucked you on the porch the other night. The moment his thumb swipes over your clit, you know you’re close. And then he’s bending his fingers just slightly, hitting that spot. You abandon all religion: this is the only type of prayer you need.

JJ has the audacity to laugh as you climax. You grasp uselessly at his body, the bedsheets, anything. You use a shaky hand to push his fingers away, overstimulated, and he finally relents. Starts kissing at your neck like a Goddamn vampire.

“That good, huh?”

You can’t really formulate words. You just drag his face to yours, kissing him senseless. When you inevitably part for breath, JJ leans back. He pinches your chin between two fingers, gnawing at his lower lip, and parts your lips for him. Your body pulses at the submissiveness he’s placed you under. Then his used fingers are slipped into your mouth. You close your lips around them, holding his gaze as you suck them clean. The salty distinct taste is unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. He gives a small laugh, like he’s in disbelief.

“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

You pull his hand free, taking grip on his shoulders. Pushing him against his bedroom wall, you move to straddle him. His hands fall onto your hips. Somewhere in your heady make-out, you rock yourself back on him. JJ groans; his head knocks back against the wall. He’s rock hard. It must be torture. You shuffle off him to make room to pull his shorts off. They join the mess of clothes on the floor. The tip leaks precum, straining painfully. You go to jack him off but JJ stops you.

“I won’t last,” he admits, half-embarrassed.

You nod, biting back your smile. “You got protection?”

“Top drawer,” he says, nodding to the bedside table.

You lean over and dig about before finding a condom. You come back, tear it open, and gently slide it over him. He lets out a shuddering breath at your touch, eyes clenched shut in concentration. It makes you feel slightly guilty for letting him indulge you for so long, but this will pay it back.

Straddling him once more, you steady yourself with one hand on either shoulder. His find home on your hips once more, and he helps you line up. Then you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch stings despite the earlier efforts. Head hanging forward, mouth falling open in silent moans, eyes clenching shut, you take him in. JJ’s mumbling praises, eyes transfixed on where you connect, spurring you on. Taking me so good. Jus’little more. You rock against him, using whatever energy you have to ride him. He helps guide you, head resting against the wall. You love that he isn’t quiet. Love that you’re on top and can see every ripple of pleasure course through him, reflect on his face. But when his eyes slip shut, you take a hand and guide his face to yours. Pressing your forehead against him, you lean forward and steady yourself with a hand on his chest. The new angle is euphoric. You moan and whine against his lips, eyes staring into his own. It’s the most hideously lewd symphony as the two of you chase your highs. There’s only one thought in your mind. And when JJ comes unannounced, shuddering as he finishes, never looking away from your eyes, only one thought is in your mind.

If it can only happen this once, it has to be perfect...

to be continued (part 2 will be released later this week)