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importantpuppystarfish · 2 days ago

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Sibling desire by Wonyoung

Male reader x Wonyoung

Warnings: Incest, totally blood related siblings, pissing (if u dont like the fantasy, simply dont read)

As I walk into my room, I see my sister Wonyoung lying on my bed. Her hair tied up and her smooth legs dangle playfully off the edge of the mattress. She looks over at me with a smile and pats the open space next to her. "Come here, I've got something to show you." She purrs. I feel my heart rate pick up as I make my way over to her. What could she possibly want to show me?

Wonyoung swipes through some images. My eyes go wide seeing the series of provocative pics she took - closeups of her lips, chest, the curve of her hip. She watches me closely.

"Do you like them?" She asks with a flirty wink. My mouth goes dry as my eyes drink in the sight of my gorgeous older sister posed so temptingly. I manage a weak nod in response as she never showed me like this.

"Mmm I took them just for you." She confesses, leaning in close and wrapping an arm around me. My heart pounds in my chest. This can't be real…but it's happening!

"I bet you've got quite the reaction going on under there huh?" She teases, reaching down and giving me an affectionate squeeze.

Wonyoung and I no longer have the chance to spend as much time together as we used to, especially since she’s been so busy with her career in IVE. She’s changed a lot over time, and it’s clear she’s grown taller and become even healthier. She’s no longer the same Wonyoung I once knew as her brother.

Swallowing hard, I gather some courage and lean in closer to her, whispering "You look…so beautiful sister…" My fingers trace lightly over her exposed leg.

Wonyoung giggles. "You're so cute when you blush like that." She bites her lip, her eyes searching mine. "You know…you're grown pretty handsome yourself." She lifts her chin, inviting my gaze to drop lower to her lips.

"Say something…say I'm hot." She whispers breathily.

Even though I know I'm not the most attractive guy, Wonyoung's words send a flutter through my chest. I can see the genuine affection in her eyes as she looks at me. She really does think I'm…cute…

She shifts, moving closer until our noses almost touch. "Come on, say it…say your big sister is hot!." Her voice is soft but commanding. I nod mutely, my throat dry. "Y-you're hot, sister��" I croak out.

Wonyoung leans back and asks "Hey, btw this question got me wondering…" She says slowly, her voice low. "What do you think a typical brother and sister relationship should be like?"

She watches me carefully, head tilted expectantly, waiting to hear my opinion on something much more profound than normal sibling dynamics. Her eyes are curious yet almost flirty.

I nod dumbly, not knowing what else to say. "Loving and…trusting," I murmur, feeling like those words don't quite capture the complexity of sibling bonds.

But Wonyoung takes my response and runs with it. She slides closer, her hip brushing against mine. "Mmmm loving and trusting…"

"Maybe…more than just loving?" "A brother and sister who really…connect."

"What do u mean?" I asked.. Wonyoung swallows hard before explaining. "What I mean is…in the most ideal, close-knit family, the brother owns the sister completely. And the sister owns the brother just the same."

She reaches out and strokes my cheek gently. "No limits, no holding back" Her words make me blink in surprise, where did she develop this kind of mindset from throughout these years?

"I should be your first.. No outside partners allowed." She declares firmly.

Wonyoung gazes at me hopeful yet serious, clearly laid out her vision for us.

Wonyoung puts her hand upon my shoulder trying to hug and then kiss me. I held back as I say "Sister what are u doing!!!?".. Wonyoung pouts when I protest, but keeps holding me tighter. "Shhh…" she whispers against my lips before planting a soft kiss there. "Didn't u say our bond should be of loving and trusting?."

She pulls back just enough to speak again, her breath hot on my face. "You're my brother…and I'm your sister. Isn't this loving between us?" She tries coaxing, hand trailing down my chest.

Wonyoung seeks to reassure as she leans in again, more insistently this time. I can feel her want, yet the wrongness of it all makes me hesitant.

Before I can react, Wonyoung crashes her lips onto mine in a deep, demanding kiss. Her fingers dig into my shoulders as she takes control. The kiss is aggressive, all tongue and teeth. Unable to deny her any longer, I give in completely in the kiss. My lips part eagerly beneath hers, savoring the intoxicating sweetness of her kiss. One hand rises to grip her waist tightly as the other tangles in her hair, pulling her closer.

She tastes like everything I've ever craved without knowing it. I surrender completely, losing myself in the dangerous allure of this twisted intimacy between us.

"Huh? U liked it right…" Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung smiles victoriously against my mouth, pleased she's gotten me to respond. "Mmm…good boy…" she whispers, running her fingers through my body. Her hands begin working at my shirt buttons, trying to remove it impatiently.

"You're already mine aren't you brother?" Her voice is low and sultry, her eyes shining with delight at having me under her spell.

She tugs at my shirt again insistently, waiting for me to obey…

She pushes my shirt open, exposing my chest.

"Shhh…" she hushes me again, biting her lip as she palms me through thin fabric. "Do you like that sis…is making you feel good?"

She shrugs off her shirt first, tossing it aside carelessly as she unhooks her bra next. It falls away, releasing her flawless form completely to me. She shakes her hair out, gazing down at me expectantly.

Her tits were perfectly proportioned, small medium sized yet supple. Her bosom is a delicate handful, delicate pink nipples starts to make my mouth watery & hungry.

"Well?" she asks coyly, fingers releasing me just long enough to begin shrugging out of her pants next. "Are you going to watch your sister strip?" Her voice drops another octave, daring me.

My eyes widen slightly when she fully reveals herself to me. I never dreamed this scene totally in my lifetime.

"Do you like it, brother?" She breathes, hands coming to rest on her hips. She pushes slightly against me, seeking contact. "Tell me…" she asks demandingly.

"Come now, get on your knees." Wonyoung orders. She wants me low before she grants me any further privileges.

She takes her own swaying breast in hand and guides it towards my mouth.

"Suck" she commands, voice rough yet compelling. I part my lips obediently and she presses forward, my tongue meeting the stiff peak. She gasps at the contact.

"Yes that's it…" she praises, running fingers through my hair again as I begin to suckle eagerly. Her sweet nectar coats my tongue, sweaty flavors making me thirsty for more. I lose myself in the sensation - it smells and tastes so good. Her skin, the weight of her supple figure in my mouth.

"Mmm yes, keep going, make them feel good…" Wonyoung crooks a leg behind me, pulling me closer until I'm fully engaged between her thighs. Releasing her tits from my mouth, I glance up at Wonyoung with a silent question. She nods eagerly in response.

"Taste me brother…" she purrs, guiding me lower.

I settle between her thighs, inhaling her heady aroma before diving in. I take and deep breathe and start licking her clit. She cries out, hands gripping the sheets as I lose myself in bringing her pleasure.

My senses are overwhelmed, the salty-sweet musk of her, the velvety give of her pussy lips against my tongue, the rhythmic pulsing against my tasting buds as I relentlessly stoke that bundle of nerves. Wonyoung gets so wet and squirts over my mouth as she moans.

"Yes…just like that!" sister gasps out, bucking against my mouth as I drive her wild. Wonyoung grabs my head and pushes me more deep inside her.

Wonyoung squirts more inside my mouth as I swallow it all. My jaw aches from her insistently grinding on my tongue but I don't care - I want to obey, to make her cry out louder.

"Don't stop! Make me come on your tongue!" she cries.

Now the most extreme part, without warning, I feel a hot stream splash across my face and into my mouth. Wonyoung releases a surprised laugh as I'm suddenly showered in my own sibling's piss warmth.

"Well well, did you like your sibling's taste?" she asks teasingly, still catching her breath. I genuinely replied her I loved it because why not? It tasted so delicious yet taboo. She reaches down and wipes out the dampness from my face by licking me with her tongue.

"There now, all cleaned up." She grins.

`😁' continues

Wonyoung sinks gracefully to her knees before me, running her palms up my thighs as she looks up with a coy smile. "My turn to return the favor…" Blowjob time!!~ Now as she takes me in fully in one smooth motion. I bite back a groan at the sudden enveloping warmth.

Her tongue swirls expertly around my length as she begins to move, focused solely on me now. I tangle my hands in her dark locks, overwhelmed by the sight and feel of her so intimately connected to me.

As Wonyoung gives me a head, her eyes never leave mine, locking me in place with that defiant gaze even as her mouth brings me such wonderful pleasure. She takes me deeper.

She uses one hand to stroke what she can't fit, twisting lightly near the tip. Her lips pursue a rhythm - up, over, down again.

She grazes her teeth along my shaft on the way back up, a wicked glint in her eyes. The sensation sends shivers through me.

"You taste good brother…" she purrs before diving back down again.

Me taking advantage of my sister's submissive position, I grab a fistful of her hair and guide her back down roughly. "Open up sister." She lets out a small, surprised sound but parts her lips obediently. I push deeper than before, hitting the back of her throat over and over. Her fingers dig into my legs as she takes everything I give. "Such a good sister…" I murmur approvingly.

I deepthroats her deeply, she is taking all of me down her throat. Wonyoung chokes and gags as I use her mouth without mercy. Tears prick her eyes but she forces herself to relax and accept my aggressive advances. She looks up at me defiantly between gasps for air.

"Mph! Mmmph!" she whimpers in protest yet doesn't fight back. Her hands move to try and stroke my leg reassuringly as I claim her throat so roughly. She knows she deserves this punishment for pushing me so far already.

I lose control suddenly, releasing my dirty yellow urine unexpectedly inside her mouth. A small gasp escapes her as she gulps down every last drop. She swallows quickly when warm liquid hits her tongue. Surprised look crosses her face. She pulls back a little, eyes wide. Accidentally swallow¿…

She pulls back, lips sealed as she looks up at me disapprovingly. "Oh my, did you just piss on ur dear sister's mouth?" Her voice drips with fake scolding. She opens mouth to show me completely coated on her tongue.

"You made quite the mess brother…"

She closes mouth and swallows once more before speaking again. "But I suppose I should expect such accidents from you." A hand comes to rest lightly on my thigh in mock reprimand.

(Wonyoung takes control now)

She stands abruptly, causing me to stumble back a step. With hands on her hips, she looks down at me with newfound confidence.

"Enough of me being sweet elder sister." Her tone is firm yet playful. "Time for me to ride you hard lil brother!"

She pushes me down face first onto the bed sheets. The boldness of her switch to dominance sends a thrill through me.

I lay in the bed fully and Wonyoung starts to climb on top and me.

As Wonyoung is straddling over me now, she guides me between her legs. My tip probes her slick folds before she sinks down, gasping as I stretch her for the first time.

"Yes, that's it…" she purrs, working to seat herself fully upon me. Her hands grip my shoulders as she grinds down hard, enveloping every inch.

"You're mine now…" she declares with a wicked grin.

(Now that she has me inside, Wonyoung starts to jump and ride my dick!)

Bouncing up and down, she sets a rhythm, riding me deeper with each roll of her hips. Her tits bounce as she picks up speed, face flushed with pleasure.

Wonyoung rides me fast. She leans back, hands braced on my thighs, exposing her bouncing tits very properly now. Her cries get louder, the room filled with the sound of flesh slapping together. She must have done this before…

She chuckles darkly as she sees my pain since shes jumping over me so rough. Her pace suddenly becomes relentless, pounding down hard again and again. She grips my hands and pins them down, refusing to let me escape the incredible sensation building inside.

"Does my little brother like when big sis rides him rough?" she taunts, eyes flashing dangerously. "You're so sensitive…you're going to…"

She bites her lip, grinning wickedly. Her slick heat grips me tighter, claiming every inch.

Wonyoung leans forward to me to have a french kiss. Our mouths meet in a deep, passionate kiss as our bodies move as one. Her tongue slides against mine, mingling flavors on my taste buds. She pulls back just enough to whisper against my lips…

"Mmm yes, keep up brother…"

She begins to grind harder, waves of pleasure radiating outward. The scent of her mouth is wonderful. I can feel my own release rapidly approaching despite the initial discomfort. Wonyoung seems determined to push me over the edge…

"You're close aren't you?" she purrs, her fingers digging into my chest as she bounces faster.

Our lips lock once more as I spill everything deep inside her hot depths. As I can't really say anything due to kissing with her, I show a signal I'm about to CUM! She feels it too, muscles clenching around me as she smiles triumphantly.

"That's it brother…let it all go," Wonyoung murmurs against my ear before sitting up again. She looks thoroughly pleased with herself for me bringing such a sweet release.

Wonyoung grinds down harder, relishing the feeling of my seed coating her walls. "Mmm yes, u filled up my insides bro…" she pants out.

She moves more slowly now but the sensation is still intense as she uses me to satisfy herself. I watch in amazement as she rests through the pleasure besides me.

My sister's glistening, saturated folds continue to cling to me even after spilling everything. Her delicate petals swollen and stretched completely full of my thick seed. She must look utterly claimed by me…

I take a peek down below to see the mess I've done on my sister's pussy. She catches me staring down below and winks playfully. "Like what you see?" she whispers, a hand coming down to scoop up some of my spilled cum glistening on her fingers. Bringing them to her mouth, she licks them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Damn ur such a naughty sister. May I ask when did u get so horny like this?" I ask. Wonyoung replies as "well well, my bsf Yujin had sex with her father. So she suggested me why not i have with my brother too? After that I'll tease our dad and I'll make him fuck me too"…

I tilt my head curiously at her response. "Yujin and her dad too?" My eyebrows rise in surprise. "So this was her idea?"

Wonyoung nods, tracing idle patterns on my chest with her fingertip. "Mhm. She said it felt amazing having such a close forbidden connection with her dad." Her eyes glint mischievously. "Now I want our Dad to give me that too…"

Despite feeling slightly jealous at the thought of my dad being with my sister next, a dark part of me stirs with intrigue. Seeing my usually sweet, innocent sister like this makes me feel things I shouldn't…

"Sister!…" I start hesitantly. "Are you really going to sleep with Dad too?"

She nods again, her face lighting up delightedly. "Mmmhmm! He's next on my list." Her fingers wrap around my arm possessively. "Just you wait…"

She grins wickedly, already planning out her tactics to seduce him. "Dad won't stand a chance against my charm." She giggles. "Once he's mine, we can share stories and jokes about how we've each…taken care of one another." She bites her lip, clearly excited about her dastardly scheme.

Wonyoung pauses thoughtfully then adds, "Oh by the way…" "Leeseo is your age right?"

I nod in response and she smiles excitedly.

"She's so cute! I bet you'd like sleep with her too huh?" She winks at me. "Why don't I bring her over one day? She's still an untouched virgin but we've had a little fun together like lesbo stuff."

My eyes go wide hearing this news about what my sister and her friend (Leeseo) did. But Wonyoubg just giggles, running her fingers through my body.

"Maybe the three of us can play next time. I'm sure Leeseo would love to join." She grins deviously, clearly imagining all the ways she could involve others in her growing web of sinful encounters.

I agree & nod to everything what she says. Now as I announce I need to use the bathroom for my stress relieve, Wonyoung grins wickedly. "You don't need that room sweetie. What are you gonna do in there? Pee?" She asks teasingly.

At my confirmation that yes, I just need to relieve myself, she laughs. "Why waste ur good fluid going down the drain when you have me?"

My brow furrows in confusion but before I can respond she's kneeling before me, eyes alight as if eager for this bizarre request. She looks up expectantly.

"Go on now…let it all out for your sister" she purrs. As I piss, she drinks it directly from where it produces like a dog. My sister Wonyoung, with who I had a typical sibling relationship with, has unfortunately turned into my human toilet and sex partner.

#girl group smut #female idol smut #kpop gg smut #Wonyoung smut #izone smut #wonyoung smut #IVE smut #wonyoungsmut #twice smut #Kpop girl smut

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azrielbrainrot · 2 days ago

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I was thinking a possible, sleeping in the same bed, as they’d often do, but one morning waking up cuddling, but with Azriel? I'm dying to see him waking up to the reader latched on and having a break through about it. Maybe even the reader waking up and being embarrassed but leading to a confession? 👀

Close to You

Pairing: Azriel x F!Reader

Word Count: ~0,7k

A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I didn't really add a proper confession because it didn't really fit in this moment so I hope that's okay. Thank you so much for sending it in!

It's not often that Azriel sleeps through the night. In fact it's so rare that he's genuinely surprised that the faint rays of the sun shining through his curtains greet him when he opens his eyes, so much so that it takes him a moment to blink the sleepiness out of his eyes and notice that someone was currently curled into him, still sound asleep.

His heart starts racing in his chest when he looks down only to be met with the crown of your head. Your face was pressed against his neck, hidden away from his sight, your slow breaths hitting his skin, chest moving against his. Your arm was draped over his torso and his mirrored yours, keeping each other as close as possible. All he could see, smell and feel was you.

It's not the first or the second time you've shared a bed, he had long since lost count on how many times it had happened for reasons varying from getting only one room at an inn when out on a mission to staying up so late talking that it's easier to just lay down and sleep instead of moving to your own room.

Last night you had fallen asleep in the sitting room when Cassian and Mor's stories had dragged on too long and Azriel ended up bringing you to his room, not wanting to wake you up and fly you down to your house when his bed was always available to you.

He swears he didn't fall asleep so close to you though, and he was also pretty sure that he had tucked you in on the other side of the bed. It seems you had both moved closer in your sleep, seeking each other's warmth, maybe something else.

Azriel was never a huge fan of cuddling, letting someone that close was too hard for him, it felt too intimate, too raw, but that was never the case with you. He had never worried when you hugged him close, or reached for his scarred hand, carded your fingers through his hair with a beautiful smile playing at your lips, even now, when you're hugging each other so close it's hard to see where one ends and the other begins, he felt totally at ease.

The only thing he couldn't understand was the tremble in his chest, and the hesitation when he realized he needed to get up if he wanted to spar with Cassian. He was still trying to understand it when you started stirring, pressing your face even closer to him as a soft whine escaped you.

You were so close that he could feel your eyelashes caressing his skin as you tried to blink the sleep away, and the way your body immediately tenses up when you realize the position you were in, your heart racing as fast as his when you slowly push away from him, his arm tightening around your waist before his mind catches up to what he's doing.

Azriel had always known you were beautiful, exceedingly so, but when you looked up at him, eyes a bit wide and a sheepish smile tugging at your lips, the world seemed to stand still. How did it take him this long to notice?

“I'm sorry,” you whisper, voice still heavy with sleep. You try to move away again, but his arm only brings you closer, your eyes widening as you stare into his.

“What for?”

Azriel swears he could feel the shiver running down your spine when you hear his voice. Cauldron, he had been so blind. He cups your cheek, his thumb caressing your soft skin softly, your hand touching his chest, undoubtedly feeling the way his heart skips as he watches your face.

“For clinging to you,” you murmur. It sounded more like a question, like you expected his reaction to be different and didn't quite know what to do now.

Azriel only offers you a small smile, pulling you in closer and nuzzling into your hair, it widens when he feels your body relax against his, hugging him closer as well. Maybe he should try sleeping in for once, practice wasn't worth crawling out of bed for, certainly not worth not having you in his arms - he was starting to think nothing was.

“I'm the one clinging to you.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel fluff #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #my writing

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phantomrose96 · 2 days ago

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Before the Birds Sing

Christophe wakes on the morning of April 7th for the 273rd time.

It is 7:03, as it almost always is, and it is the snooze-delayed alarm that wakes him, as it almost always does. Christophe knows the pattern of bird song before they chirp, and he knows the exact cadence of cars that hum by on the street before they even crawl around the corner. Christophe listens to it, and he dawdles on his phone.

There is no practical reason to check his phone. He knows of course that it is 7:03 and he knows it’s 67 degrees outside—sunny—35% humidity—and he knows the contents of the 2 texts he received overnight. But Christophe makes motions with no practical reason. He does it to not upset anyone who, if paying close attention, could take issue with him knowing things before he’s learned them.

Christophe stows his phone into his pajama pocket at 7:06 and goes downstairs, which is the optimal time to go downstairs. Any earlier and Madeline’s pot of coffee would still be brewing, and she’d offer him first-cup with a touch of resentment over him getting first cup of the pot she’d been brewing. But if he refuses it would be a Thing, and Christophe hates starting a Thing.

But it is 7:06, and Madeline is starting to empty the dishwasher, steaming cup of coffee perched on the counter beside the sink. Christophe says, “Morning” and kisses her head and pours his own cup.

“Morning,” Madeline answers. Her hair is not damp anymore, but it could be in the two cases Christophe woke at 6:45. He hadn’t yet figured out what caused that. He’d never been able to recreate it on purpose.

“Oh,” Madeline always says. “My mom wants to come over for dinner tonight. Kinda late notice but is that okay?” she always asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Christophe sometimes answers. Because the sometimes when he sounds too neutral makes Madeline’s mouth tighten with worry. And the sometimes when he’s too enthusiastic makes Madeline stiff like she’s confused. “I hope she’s got more stories about Boki,” which is Madeline’s mom’s new dog, and is the optimal answer to give about her mom coming over for dinner.

“He’s gotten so big,” Madeline says with a smile.

This is optimal because Boki is an easy topic to interrupt when Beatrice from across the street slams into Christophe’s car.

“Christ!” Madeline reacts to the SLAM-RRCH, WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP of collision and car alarm and woo woo woo of Bucky from the downstairs unit.

(“Hush, Bucky,” Peter from the downstairs unit says muffled.) Christophe is in the stairwell, heading out the door. (Peter is making hashbrowns. Christophe stopped at his door one morning, for no real reason. During the mid-100s of his loop, Christophe tried a few things “just because.”) So he thinks about the hashbrowns abandoned on the stove while Peter pulls Bucky away from the door. Christophe goes outside to Beatrice with her hands on her head.

“I didn’t see it!” Beatrice always says while Christophe opens the door. There is lipstick smeared from lip to hairline straight across her cheek. She wears an expression like she’s run over someone’s child.

Christophe goes through the motions of looking at his car, which is always identically dented in the fender, with the same red paint tucked in its scratches. “Hey hey, these things happen. Do you have your insurance information? We just need to call our insurances, and they’ll sort it out.”

This is the optimal answer. Beatrice calms down, as she takes comfort in being given actionable direction. Christophe knows a lot about Beatrice, who he’d never met before today. She has three sons: Jimmy who knows a mechanic from college, Kevin who is an insurance adjustor, but for a life insurance company, and Mikey, who is Beatrice’s favorite as most of the time, he’s the one she calls.

“Yes, yes okay. It’s in the glove box—yes, Mikey, yes that’s—the guy is here, his car. Mikey, I should get my insurance information, right? Yes,” Beatrice says into her earpiece. Christophe thinks to ask her what Mikey does for a living, but there’s no reason to detract today’s path, which so far is optimal.

Beatrice scuttles away, opening her passenger door and half leaning out of it while she finds her papers. There is no good way to prevent Beatrice from hitting his car—as it turns out, no one believes you if you preemptively try to tell them not to hit your car. And getting his own car out of the way doesn’t quite work. Getting to it in time requires cutting Madeline short on her question about her mother. And the interruption makes Madeline upset.

If he can figure out how the 6:45 wake-up loop works, maybe Christophe could move his car first, then talk to Madeline, then Beatrice wouldn’t hit his car—but it would be a lot of pressure, to get that lucky, and then try to do the whole day after that perfectly, lest he just wake up all over again, 7:03, hearing the birds before they chirp.

“This, I think. It’s this paper?” Beatrice asks.

“Yes yes, see this number? You’ll need to call that one.” Christophe just needs to be understanding, but firm. And not say anything like, “Sorry, maybe my car was too far out of the driveway!” because that will make Beatrice purse her lips and nod and say “Yeah, actually I think your car was too far out.”

Beatrice asks—maybe to Christophe, and maybe to Mikey—how long this whole thing with insurance will take. Christophe tells Beatrice insurance should handle it quickly. He’s not sure if that’s true. He’s never made it to tomorrow.

…

Christophe’s shoulders ease down a fraction once Beatrice is out of sight. The rest of the morning is easier. Madeline only needs to be told “Don’t worry, insurance is handling it.” And there’s no real wrong way to shower, and no real wrong way to get dressed. And as long as he avoids Summer Street on the way to work (someone hit a fire hydrant there) then there’s not many wrong ways to get to work.

Christophe reads all unread emails, which are memorized at this point. He accepts Frankie’s invite to grab lunch together in the cafeteria. He doesn’t start anything important while counting the minutes to 9:43. 9:43 comes, and their boss Bruce calls Christophe, and Frankie, and Arnold into his office.

Bruce wears the same olive shirt every day with the same unmatching plum tie—except for one day when he wore an orange tie. He orders everyone to sit the way he always does. And he gives the same rant, which Christophe puts on a face of surprise for, while Bruce reads out the scathing customer email received overnight over a massively delayed shipment. Bruce’s hand flies around in a rage, and there is a different watch on today.

The watch is unusual. It’s silver. Not the normal gold one, and kind of thinner. Christophe wonders why it’s different. Christophe wonders about the little things that are capable of changing, and whether that means Peter isn’t always cooking hashbrowns, or if one of these days Beatrice simply won’t hit his car.

“So tell me, Mahone, how does this happen?”

Christophe snaps from his thoughts about watches, experiencing the emotion of surprise for the first time in many days.

“If they’d gotten us the right shipping address from the start, we wouldn’t need to be jumping through all these hoops and taking the blame to fix their fuck-up.”

Bruce’s little eyes get about as big as they can on his red face, and Christophe immediately feels his ribcage drop down to his feet.

He’d given the optimal response… to offer to Frankie in the office space later, when Frankie would be sitting crouched and staring at his knees with an expression like he didn’t want to be staring at his knees. This is Frankie’s client, and every time today happens, Frankie shoulders the most blame. And it makes Frankie feel a little better when Christophe directs the blame back onto them.

Bruce’s answer, optimally, is, “It’s an oversight, you’re absolutely correct. I know our team can get this sorted out today. And we’ll craft an apology email to them immediately.”

“Mahone did you just say the word… ‘fuck-up��, to me?”

Bruce is having an affair. Christophe doesn’t technically know this today. But he does if he tries proactively to enter Bruce’s office and read the (quite positive) response email to his apology, and only if he times this between 1:19pm and 1:21pm. Maria from accounting is under the desk for reasons that cannot be explained away. He actually needs to come in at about 1:30pm to read the email, which Bruce will nod to and give a firm clap of approval to Christophe’s shoulder.

“Sorry, I completely misspoke. I meant to say ‘our’ fuck-up, and…” Christophe trails off, tired. He is long-since tired of finding brand new optimal paths off untrodden conversations. He is quickly losing the motivation to try. This is clearly unsalvageable.

Bruce has a wife and a 9-year-old daughter.

“Sorry, we'll try that again,” Christophe says, under the gawking stares of Frankie and Arnold.

“No, you don’t get to try that again, Mahone. Not to me,” Bruce says. “You can pack your desk and get out of here.”

Christophe does not pack his desk.

It is 7:03 am. Christophe hears the note of each bird before it chirps.

…

“Oh,” Madeline always says. “My mom wants to come over for dinner tonight. Kinda late notice but is that okay?” she always asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Christophe sometimes answers again. “I hope she’s got more stories about Boki.”

“He’s gotten so big,” Madeline says with a smile. SLAM-RRCH “Christ!” WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP woo woo woo.

“I’ve got it,” Christophe says. He opens their unit door and rounds the stairs. (“Bucky, hush.”) He thinks about hashbrowns.

Bruce’s watch is gold again today.

“So tell me, Mahone, how does this happen?”

“It’s an oversight, you’re absolutely correct. I know our team can get this sorted out today. And we’ll craft an apology email to them immediately.”

Christophe is dismissed along with Frankie and Arnold, who bow lower than him and walk like they have tails tucked up. Christophe opens the door back into their office space, and Frankie takes his seat, staring at his knees with an expression like he doesn’t want to be staring at his knees.

Christophe squeezes a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. Performatively, he looks over his own shoulder, like he’s checking to ensure Bruce hasn’t followed. Bruce never does. “If they’d gotten us the right shipping address from the start, we wouldn’t need to be jumping through all these hoops and taking the blame to fix their fuck-up.”

Frankie straightens a little, until he only a little bit resembles a shrimp. He smiles a little at Christophe.

Christophe takes his own seat, and he begins crafting the optimal client apology email.

…

Christophe pulls into the grocery store parking lot. He has a text message open from Madeline, performatively.

“Hey, sorry I don’t think I can make the fish tonight. There’s not enough for three people. Can you pick these up on your way home? We can just do a taco night.”

Sometimes Madeline says this aloud to him in the morning, if he comes down at 7:03 and if he doesn’t turn the conversation to Boki. It’s more convenient to have the list as a text message, though it functionally stopped mattering after about the 10th loop when he’d memorized the ingredients.

Christophe’s path through the grocery store is optimized. Though that is another thing that functionally does not matter. It makes no true difference if he doubles back for the avocados, or combs the spice aisle twice, or even if he stands blankly in the produce section thinking about car insurance or workplace affairs. The grocery store doesn’t really count for anything. As long as he delivers the one good joke to the cashier, it’s a success.

“A lotta avocados,” Amanda with the nose piercing says. That her name is Amanda and that she has a nose-piercing are technically the only things Christophe knows about her today. But on other todays, he’s asked her about family and about school. She has three sisters and three cats. She goes to community college. She’s a Scorpio. There is a faint scar on the middle knuckle of her right hand.

“Yeah, I’m thinking of trying out avocado therapy.”

She gives him a quirked eyebrow. He waits a beat.

“Just start smashing them until I’m better or until I have guacamole, whichever comes first.”

Amanda snorts, and she scans the last item. It’s NOT even that funny. But he said the avocado therapy thing one loop for no real reason and, somehow, it was a hit. He’s tweaked the delivery just a bit, until it felt optimal.

Christophe folds himself back into the car with the avocados and the cilantro and the lime and the onion and the chips. He turns the car on, and the radio crackles to life with Sexyback on the throwback channel. He lets it play in its entirety before moving the car out of park. It’s easier than counting the minutes needed before he’s allowed to arrive home without Madeline remarking that he got home from the grocery store “really fast.” It’s also why optimizing the avocadoes doesn’t matter. Getting home from the grocery store too fast is weird, and Christophe optimally does not do anything weird today.

Lucinda is already in the kitchen when Christophe arrives home, smelling faintly of cloves, which Christophe figured out on about the 50th loop. She is parked on the barstool overlooking the island counter, hawkishly observing the bowls of cheese and sour cream and tomatoes and shredded lettuce.

“Ah, he’s back. Finally,” Lucinda says, and there’s never any real avoiding that. Even when Christophe comes home weirdly early, he’s come home late. “You should be helping Madeline prep. Not me.”

Lucinda takes the whisky glass with the one spherical ice cube and re-parks herself at the kitchen table. Christophe unpacks the guacamole ingredients, and he does not ask about Boki yet, because Boki needs to be the second topic tonight.

Christophe makes guacamole with the exactly ripe avocados, and the exact right proportions of lime and salt and onion—it is, if he’s honest, not enough onion—but it is optimized for Lucinda, who stopped criticizing his guacamole after about the 100th loop.

He uses the bowl Madeline likes and dumps in the chips that Madeline likes too. He offers her a single chip while she’s still frying the ground beef, and she takes it with a secret little smile. He gives her a secret little smile in return, which is enough to somehow say Lucinda is a mutual nuisance, but not enough to suggest he hates her.

The taco ingredient bowls all come to the table one by one. Lucinda is slopping a pile of guacamole onto her plate with the guacamole ladle. “Ethel’s cancer is back. Poor girl. Lopped off both her breasts already. What more can you do?”

“Oh no… Mom, that’s horrible,” Madeline says. She’s stopped mid-taco-bite, brow scrunched in worry. “When did she find out?”

“Today. She doesn’t wanna do chemo again. Poor girl. Probably on her way out at this point.”

Christophe knows from other todays that Ethel is 87. She’s a gardening friend of Lucinda. She used to be a world-class chef, when being both a woman and respected in the restaurant world was unheard of. She has 14 great-grandchildren. She’s taken a boat across the Atlantic Ocean. She beat cancer at age 75. She is probably going to die to it this time.

This is not the first time Christophe has thought about the fact that, as long as today is April 7th, Ethel will never die of cancer. He’s thought about all the people who would have died in the months after April 7th who, in some way, are still alive. And if or when the loop breaks, everyone who dies on April 7th does not get to wake up tomorrow.

But these are the sort of thoughts Christophe has had in depth since the very early days of his loop. He thinks, by and large, he’s settled on the answer that, for every person who doesn’t die today, there is someone else denied being born tomorrow. And whoever he’s holding to life today is offset by someone else who should get to live tomorrow.

There are people out there who are living the worst day of their lives every single day for the last 273 days, and there are, statistically, just as many people living the best day of their life every single day.

As Christophe figures it, this loop is morally neutral. And if he wakes up on April 8th tomorrow, there is no one he’s doomed, and there is no one he’s saved.

When there is nothing more to be said about Ethel, Christophe asks about Boki. Lucinda lights up, and she fumbles for her phone, squinting at its screen. “I have pictures. Oh I have so many pictures.” Lucinda turns the phone to Christophe. He sweeps until the 19th photo, and pauses there.

“What sort of feeder is this? It looks fancy. Nothing like what Pickle had when I was growing up.” It’s just an automatic feeder, but Lucinda loves the suggestion that it’s fancy. She explains it as if Christophe is learning about electronics for the first time, and it pads time.

Christophe has made sure to clear his plate while Lucinda talks. He does not reach for seconds on anything. He needs a clear path to excuse himself from the table, because he knows what Lucinda will bring up next, like he knows the bird notes before they sing.

“I did want to tell you something else, Madeline. And I didn’t want to just ‘text’ it to you, okay? I need you to see my face so you know I’m upset too and so you don’t accuse me of mean and hateful things.”

Christophe has no reaction. He sees the confusion, and the fear taking over Madeline’s face.

“John and I are getting a divorce.”

Madeline’s face is fully white. “Mom, no…”

John is not Madeline’s biological father. Her bio dad left when she was three. Christophe shouldn’t even know his name, but he blundered in comforting her one of these loops and she spat it like a curse.

There is John instead. John who came into Madeline’s life when she was four and treated her like his daughter ever since. John who married Madeline’s mother a year later and who’d been Madeline’s dad ever since. John, who had no blood tie nor name tie to Madeline, and who is about to lose his legal tie as well.

“Mom, you said you were doing therapy,” Madeline always says, whenever Christophe gets this far.

“I am! And I’ve realized that I deserve better than what John is doing to me.”

“Better than John? You deserve better than John, Mom?”

“Madeline this is MY life. Do not do this thing you do where you try to make it ALL about how hurt you are.”

The optimal thing for Christophe to say is nothing, he thinks. The optimal thing to do right now is nothing, he thinks. He guesses, as best he can guess. He doesn’t always get this far. He hasn’t had the chance to try as many things as he’s been able to try with Beatrice, and Bruce, and Amanda. But when he has tried to speak, it doesn’t work. Maybe, optimally, Christophe shouldn’t be here, but Lucinda forces it every time.

He lets Madeline speak. He lets Lucinda respond. He fades into a wallflower, until Madeline slams her chair back and throws her napkin down and says, “I think you should go home, Mom.” He lets her storm into the living room, and he gives a performative glance to Lucinda. She’s not really his concern anymore. Lucinda always leaves right after this.

Christophe stands at the doorway of the living room, which has gone dark since the sun set. Madeline is sobbing quietly on the couch, one pillow pulled into her lap. Christophe can’t see it, but she always has it. He knows it’s there.

He enters, and he sits on the couch with her, and he holds her gently.

He does not know the optimal thing to say.

He’s tried many things. But he says things that are insensitive, or too sensitive, or too optimistic, or too pessimistic. He says things that he has no business saying. He says hollow things. He says things that are too mean to Lucinda, or too apologetic to John.

So every day, he tries to say something new.

The darkness is resting on Christophe’s eyes. He’s staring into the darkness of the livingroom. There are plates of tacos in the dining room. There is unfinished guacamole going brown in Madeline’s favorite bowl.

“That won’t be us,” Christophe says, for the first time.

The pattern of Madeline’s crying breaks. He holds his breath, filing away yet another wrong response, when Madeline reaches her arms out and wraps him tight. She’s crying into her shoulder, but the tensing of her fingers against his ribs is so tender.

“I won’t ever do that to you,” she says into his work shirt. “I love you. Thank you for being here. Thank you. I love you.”

He rubs her back, and his heart is beating faster than it’s beat in 100 loops.

“I love you too,” he says, and it’s optimal.

…

Christophe washes plates. He packs away leftovers. He listens to the shhhh of the kitchen faucet nozzle as it blasts the sink basin and gurgles away down the drain.

The cicadas chirp outside. He doesn’t know this rhythm.

Christophe showers. He gets in bed. Madeline hugs his arm. He stares at the ceiling, and it is 9:00pm for the first time in the last 274 days.

… ... ...

274 days ago, Christophe woke up on April 7th for the first time .

He checked his phone. He read the text from his mom asking for money, and he read the text from his dad telling him to ignore his mom. He checked the weather. He got out of bed and carried himself down the stairs at 7:03.

Madeline was standing at the counter, hunched over a coffee pot huffing fragrant steam up to the ceiling. She caught him from the corner of her eye, and with a sort of veiled resentment Christophe recognized, she poured the first cup and handed it to him.

“My mom wants to come over for dinner tonight. Kinda late notice but is that okay?”

“Why?” Christophe answered, the word bubbling from the knee-jerk disdain pulling down on his rib cage. Madeline poured the second cup of coffee for herself. “We had her over last week.”

“I don’t know. But she wants to come over,” Madeline answered defensively. She pulled open the dishwasher, stacking plates with a clack, clack, clack.

“We don’t have enough fish.”

“We can just make tacos.”

“We had tacos last week.”

“Fine,” Madeline said, turning back around and leaving the dishwasher half-unloaded. “I’ll tell her no.”

“Come on,” Christophe said. “Don’t say that like I’m being unreasonable.”

“No no, I’ll just tell her no.”

“She’s just… a lot. Come on.”

“You don’t think I know that? I grew up with her.”

“Don’t talk like I’m the bad guy here.”

“Oh, you learned her favorite sentence.”

Christophe’s hands tensed against the hot porcelain of his mug. He had too many words that wanted to pour of out his lips. “You think you’re the only one who grew up with a difficult mom?” “You don’t see me subjecting YOU to MY mom.” “What about maybe a ‘Thank you, Honey, for putting up with my Mom who we both know is a lot.’”

None of those made it into the air. His whole line of thought was ground to a sudden halt by the SLAM-RRCH outside.

“Christ!” Maddie exclaimed, words drowned under the WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP woo woo woo.

Christophe moved with momentum, with adrenaline. He slammed open their unit door and rounded the hall with bare feet (“Hush, Bucky.”)

Outside, some woman was standing just outside her car, lipstick smeared across her cheek and holding her hands against either side of her head.

“What did you DO?” Christophe snapped, all but shoving her out of the way while his heart raced and he investigated the dent in his fender.

“I don’t know!! I didn’t see it! I didn’t see it!” the woman echoed in hysterics. She blinked tears that smeared down her mascara. “Let me call Mikey! He’ll know what to do!”

“Don’t call anyone, Christ. I have to leave for work soon! Just get your insurance documents out of your car, …Fucking Christ.”

The woman stood motionless. She’d been shocked quiet, but still blubbered mutely while the tears fell from her mascara. Great. Great. Another person making Christophe into the bad guy. He rubbed his finger over the red paint scratched into his fender, and he let out a noise that got Bucky barking again.

…

Christophe took his seat at the office, slinking in fifteen minutes late with the mantra-like hope that Bruce hadn’t seen him come in late. It wasn’t his fault his idiot neighbor had scraped his car. It wasn’t his fault that Summer Street was backed up all the way to Oak Road, which he’d screamed himself hoarse about in the car, leaning on his horn all the while.

“Your mom can come over for dinner. It’s fine,” Christophe texted to Madeline. He entertained the hope that it didn’t come across passive-aggressive, but he also couldn’t find the will to include a heart-emoji or an “I love you” that might have softened the tone.

“Okay. Thanks,” she answered.

Christophe’s blood boiled all over. He read emails and re-read them, again and again, because their contents would not stick in his mind.

“Mahone, Charles, Kim, my office. Now.”

Christophe snapped upright, heart stirred to a frenzy for the too-many’th time today. The ice trickle down his spine said “Fuck, you are in trouble for getting in late.” But the inclusion of Frankie and Arnold did not make sense for that. The realization sat like a brick in his stomach while he rose, and met eyes with Frankie and Arnold, and followed Bruce into his office.

Bruce was wearing an ugly olive green shirt with an uglier plum tie when he closed the office door behind them all, and his face was an even uglier scarlet.

“Can any of you three… fucking explain to me, why this email was in my inbox this morning?” Bruce shifted into theatrics, reading each scathing note with a pizzazz solely for the purpose of getting under Christophe’s skin, Christophe was sure. Arnold and Frankie seemed to wince in unison with each lunge Bruce made, but Christophe refused to break posture.

“So tell me, Mahone, how does this happen?”

“You should ask Kim,” Christophe said. Frankie winced again, and it made Christophe madder the way his mind likened Frankie to a scolded dog. “He was the one handling the client.”

“No, I am asking you, Mahone. This is your team. Do not make excuses and do not shift blame. That’s what a weak man does.”

(“Then explain what exactly you’re doing right now.”) Christophe thought to himself. But he did not say it out loud, because he too was a scolded dog.

…

Christophe muttered a curse through each blocking cart and each clueless shopper blocking his path. He got avocadoes, and later doubled-back for the onion, and then doubled-back again for the limes. The chips were in the wrong aisle, because some stupid fucking store manager had decided to move everything again. Christophe forgot the jalapenos.

“Ah, he’s back. Finally,” Madeline’s mother Lucinda said the moment Christophe opened the front door. She leered over her glass of whisky, which immediately set fire to Christophe’s ever-simmering disdain for her.

“I came from work, Lucinda. Because I have a job,” Christophe bit back.

“You people always have excuses,” and it is one ‘you people’ too many, so Christophe set the grocery bag down and disappeared into the living room to throw himself on the couch.

“Mom do not speak to him that way,” Madeline said.

“Well did you see the way he talked to me? Called me jobless.”

“Mom, we’re not doing this.”

“You always want to make me the bad guy.”

Twenty minutes passed, with the living room growing dark around Christophe while he seethed into his phone. He marinated in his spite. There was no reason to make him share a room with Lucinda, in his own apartment. It was his, after all. Madeline moved into his apartment.

Soft footsteps broke his train of thought. Someone stood blocking the bit of light leaking in from the dining room.

“Christophe, hey… That was really out of line of my mom. Sorry.”

“You think?” Christophe answered.

“She’s miserable, and she needs to make everyone else miserable.”

“She does not ‘need’ to. She chooses to. And you let her.”

“I don’t ‘let’ her, Christophe. Don’t make her actions my fault.”

“Her being here is your fault.”

“She…” Madeline breathed hard out of her nose, and she lowered her voice. “She insisted on it. Absolutely insisted.”

“My mom insists I send her money. I just don’t.”

“It’s different.”

Christophe let out a little snort. He let the silence linger.

“…Look, I’ll say thank you once she’s gone, okay. A really really big thank you. I’ll make you any dinner you want this weekend, as a thank you. Okay? Because… she’s a lot. I know she’s a lot. So… thank you.”

The anger boiling in Christophe ebbed a fraction, and he almost resented this more, because this whole day was so much easier if he let himself fester in it.

…

“Ethel’s cancer is back. Poor girl. Lopped off both her breasts already. What more can you do?”

“Oh no… Mom, that’s horrible.”

Christophe dipped his chips in the guacamole without jalapeno. He did his best to avoid looking at Lucinda without making it obvious he was avoiding her. He tuned in only long enough to hear ‘cancer’, and tuned back out when he was sure Ethel was no one he knew.

Ethel as a topic stuck. Lucinda seemed to revel in it, in that way she loved, to bring up something horrific and make it everyone else’s burden to indulge her on it. It sickened Christophe, the way she seemed to light up at every opportunity to tell you something horrible.

“Ethel has honestly made me realize something. And it’s that life is short. And one day you’re gonna wake up with breast cancer, thinking to yourself, ‘Why’d I waste all this life?’” Lucinda stuffed another bite of taco in her face. Through her food she spoke. “So I wanted to tell you this myself, Maddie. And I didn’t want to just ‘text’ it to you, okay? I need you to see my face so you know I’m upset too and so you don’t accuse me of mean and hateful things.”

Christophe stiffened, angry before he even knew what he was angry about, just certain of the fact that Lucinda was about to make something worse for him than it already was.

“John and I are getting a divorce.”

Madeline’s face was fully white. “Mom, no… Mom, you said you were doing therapy.”

“I am! And I’ve realized that I deserve better than what John is doing to me.”

“Better than John? You deserve better than John, Mom?”

“Madeline this is MY life. Do not do this thing you do where you try to make it ALL about how hurt you are.”

“Shut up! Jesus fucking Christ!” Christophe slammed his fork down. “Is this all you do? Show up to make everyone miserable? Come here to make Madeline cry?”

“Christophe, don’t," Madeline whispered.

“She’s a miserable fucking bat and she’s doing this to cause drama. What a happy day for John to finally be fucking rid of you!!” Christophe turned to Lucinda, his eyes wild, and he broke into emphatic applause. And each clap was for his mom. For his dad. For the woman who hit his car. For Bruce. For the morning traffic. For the brainless idiot blocking the limes in the grocery store. “YAY JOHN! YAY JOHN! FREE OF HIS FUCKING SHACKLES!! HOORAY JOHN!!”

And in front of him, Lucinda crumbled. Into sobs. Into hysterics that seized her whole body and shook it. Blubbering, to the point of wailing. She kicked her chair back, and on unsteady feet she rounded out of the dining room.

“Mom! Mom, come back. Christophe did NOT mean that.” Madeline gave him one scathing look before disappearing after her mother, the front door to the unit opening and clicking shut. Feet on the stairs. Below them, Bucky bellowed woo woo woo.

And then it was quiet.

And then Christophe was alone.

With all the makings of tacos scattered around him, with guacamole going brown in a too-small bowl, Christophe was entirely alone.

Alone, he sat. Alone, he thought. Alone, his righteous anger slipped away from him like the tide. He felt naked and cold as it left him. He felt his cheeks burn. He felt his own self-loathing nestle into the shape of where his anger used to be.

He spat a curse. He spat another. He stood. He kicked a chair. He shoved the table, unseating one glass of water which toppled and spilled its stream in a ppttititktikt to the floor. He grabbed his head like the woman who hit his car, and he dropped to a hunch.

And when staying like this felt unreasonable, Christophe unfolded himself. He rubbed his eyes. He stacked dishes, and popped Tupperware containers, and scrubbed down the counter, and set the dishwasher to its 4-hour delay.

He showered. He got in bed alone. He stewed on every kind of apology he thought of texting Madeline, but his pride burned against each one. He stewed until his phone buzzed, and some sick part of him held the hope that maybe it was an apology from Madeline.

“I don’t think this is the relationship I want. I’ll be by tomorrow morning to get my things.”

“…Fuck.” Christophe slammed his phone down. “Fuck!” He grabbed his phone back and he sat up, and with all the force he could muster he pitched it against the hardwood floor. Its case exploded off, screen shattering to magnificent spiderwebs. Tinkling bits of glass and plastic scattered unseen across the floor.

Christophe was breathing hard. He was seized by the absolute sheer unfairness of everything. He wanted a do over. He wanted a different today. He wanted one more chance to not let everything go to absolute shit.

Christophe woke up on April 7th for the second time.

… ... ...

It is 9:10pm on the 274th day of April 7th, and Madeline has fallen asleep against Christophe’s arm.

And this is optimal, surely.

He’d said the right thing. Hadn’t made it about Madeline’s parents or his own. Was it always that simple? That she wanted assurance she wasn’t going to end up like John. “That won’t be us.” That was all?

Christophe should be happy.

He did it right, finally.

This is the escape criteria, surely.

Well, "surely" is a silly word for Christophe to use. As if the criteria were ever a mystery. As is he himself hadn't been activating the loop every single time.

April 7th would last exactly as long as he decided to make it last. That had been the case since his very first loop.

He's found "optimal." He has a reason, finally, to stop activating the loop. He can stop making today perfect. He can let tomorrow be April 8th, for the first time.

And it is about time, isn’t it? To let those babies be born. To let those people die. To let the people having the worst day of their lives and the best day of their lives finally move on to just another day.

He’s been feeling guilty about it lately, every time he feels the day hasn’t been optimal, and he made the choice to activate that power that sprung up like a wellspring inside him while he’d screamed and smashed his phone on the ground.

Tomorrow is April 8th.

Tomorrow everything moves forward.

Christophe’s palms are clammy.

He thinks about waking up at a time he doesn’t know tomorrow. He thinks about birds singing to a tune he cannot already hear like a rehearsal in his head.

He thinks of everything Madeline might say, and he grows colder at the idea he won’t know what to say back.

He thinks about starting fresh, with a whole unoptimized day ahead of him.

It makes him cold. With Madeline snugged tight against him, Christophe feels so cold.

…

Christophe wakes up the next morning to an empty bed. He checks his phone, checks his text messages, checks the weather. He gets out of bed, and he heads down the stairs to the smell of brewed coffee.

“Morning,” he says, planting a kiss on Madeline’s head. She looks up from the dishwasher long enough to give him a “Morning,” back. Christophe pours his own cup of coffee.

“Oh,” Madeline says. “My mom wants to come over for dinner tonight. Kinda late notice but is that okay?” she always asks.

“Yeah, sure,” Christophe answers warmly, feeling like he’s fallen in love with life all over. “I hope she’s got more stories about Boki.”

#writing #original writing #Before the Birds Sing #new short story idea :)

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firelord-frowny · 10 hours ago

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scrolling through old reblogs and found this and it reminded me of the time my mom texted me while i was in the middle of a quartet rehearsal with "please call right away" or something like that and i was like 😨😨😨😨😨😨because she has literally never texted me asking me to call her AT ALL let alone "right away" so i urgently stopped the rehearsal and told everyone i just got a weird text from my mom and that i needed to step out and call her ~right away~ and they were all like D: oh noooo ok, hope everything's alright

so i call and im like! mommy! what happened!

and she's like!

"the baby cardinals fell out of their nest!* what do i do???"

and i was all

-______-

so i asked her if she could still see the original nest in the bush and she said it seemed to have been destroyed by something, so i kinda talked her through how to make a makeshift nest and put it near where the original nest was and then put the babies in that, and that the parents should still care for them after that

and then i went back to rehearsal and was relieved and delighted to be able to tell my concerned quartet mates that the crisis was about baby birds falling out of a nest lololol

*they were BABY babies, not fledglings. no flight feathers, still kinda pink and raggedy lookin

collection

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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 day ago

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Dancing with Yuutsum

SUMMARY: What would happen if you and your tsum found Vil’s, Idia’s and Malleus’s tsums dancing together in the Courtyard? You discover that Idia-tsum is very clingy with your tsum, Vil-tsum gets upset pretending that it doesn't bother it, and worse, Malleus-tsum is openly jealous.

CHARACTERS: Vil Schoenheit, Vil’s tsum; Idia’s tsum, Malleus’s tsum (+Epel Felmier; Ortho Shroud; Sebek Zigvolt) And Malleus at the end.

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.600 words

COMMENTS: I got this idea while playing Twisted Tsumderland 3. After having written so much about Yuutsum I immediately had an idea to use this twistune.

Maybe the title is not quite accurate because most of it is not about the dance but it was the name of the twistune. 😅

I hope you enjoy ❤️

Cooking with Yuutsum - Azul Ashengrotto, Azul’s tsum; Kalim Al-Asim, Kalim’s tsum (+Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper)

Your tsum seemed curious about its surroundings and you asked it if it wanted to go for a walk so you could show it around the school campus. Your tsum happily and enthusiastically agreed.

During your tour you couldn't help but pass by the Courtyard where you hear music. Curious, you follow it and see Epel, Ortho and Sebek dancing with Idia’s, Vil’s and Malleus’s tsums. Vil and Idia's tablet were also there watching them.

Your Tsum moved happily in your arms and seemed to want to join them, but you arrived when they were already at the end of the dance. Your Tsum felt a little sad and you tried to cheer it up by saying that even if they don't dance more it can still go to greet them. Your tsum does so and jumped out of your arms to hop over to the other tsums.

“It can't be helped.” Vil sighed. “You and my peanut were fine Epel, but the others continued dancing as clumsy as they pleased.”

“Hm? Something is approaching with little hops. Another tsum?” Idia's voice says through the tablet. “Damn, my tsum is really unlucky today. Whee hee hee. I'm so glad I sent my tablet instead of going out in person. Whose will it be this-”

Your tsum finally gets close enough for everyone, including Idia's tablet camera, to see it and it greets everyone with that happy tsum sound.

Before any other person or tsum could greet it back, Idia-tsum jumped straight at your tsum to hug it, but with an expression as if asking for its protection.

“W-W-WHAT IS IT DOING?!” Idia asks in an embarrassed panic.

“I don't know.” Ortho responds, curious. “But it seems like it's nesting in (Y/N)'s tsum. It's actually cute.”

You, already next to your and Idia’s tsums, open your mouth to ask yourself the same thing when the sky suddenly turns dark. You all look up and see storm clouds that appeared out of nowhere when the sky was clear seconds ago.

“My Tsum-liege! What's wrong?”

You all look back at the ground, at Malleus-tsum who is glaring angrily at the two tsums at your feet. A muffled thunder is heard and Idia-tsum only hugs your tsum even tighter in fear, which makes Malleus-tsum even more angry and a lightning bolt strikes nearby.

Your tsum looks at you, nods with its little head to Idia-tsum and then to Malleus-tsum. You understand what it wants to ask you and you bend down to pick up Idia-tsum. It gets scared when it feels hands suddenly catch it and doesn't want to let go of your tsum, until it calms Idia-tsum enough to free itself from its grip. Only when Idia-tsum realizes that you are the one holding it does it stop trying to escape and nestles into your arms in fear so that you can protect it.

Meanwhile your tsum hops to Malleus-tsum. As your tsum gets closer to it the clouds begin to disappear. Until Sebek suddenly gets between the two tsums.

“HALT! No one can approach my tsum-liege without permis-” Another bolt of lightning struck nearby. Sebek looked at Malleus-tsum who was looking at him with displeasure. “AH! MY DEEPEST APOLOGIES MY TSUM-LIEGE!” He bowed deeply. “I was unaware this tsum had your consent.” And he got out of the way.

Malleus-tsum raised its head with dignity and walked the remaining short distance to your tsum. Once in front of your tsum, Malleus-tsum didn't hug it, it waited for your tsum to do it first. And it did, touching its cheek to Malleus-tsum’s and rubbing affectionately. It was a matter of a couple of seconds before the storm clouds dissipated as quickly as they had appeared.

“Hum... Am I the only one who thinks this is some kind of subliminal message or foreshadowing or something?” Idia questions.

“What? You don't think just because these peanuts have physical similarities to us that they are revealing something hidden about us, do you?” Vil counterposes with a sarcastic smile.

“Where are you going?” Epel asks Vil-tsum who started walking down the gray path away from them, with its head held high and his eyes closed as if it was upset but still prideful.

Your tsum looks at it and gives Malleus-tsum a kiss before hoping towards Vil-tsum and stopping right in front of it. Your tsum made a happy tsum sound, but Vil-tsum turned its face away and continued walking after going around your tsum.

“Someone got sulky.” Idia commented in a low voice and chuckled to himself.

Meanwhile, Malleus-tsum came to you, stopped for a moment to look at you, and then suddenly jumped into your arms as well. This startled Idia-tsum again, but Malleus-tsum patted it to let it know that everything was okay, and the two of them snuggled up to you.

Your tsum tried to get closer to Vil-tsum again, but it kept looking away. Until your tsum starts making a sound and a face like it wanted to cry. Only then did Vil-tsum finally look at it, but was still sulking. Your tsum slowly got closer to it and touched its little nose with Vil-tsum's. Seeing that it didn't move away again, your tsum slowly snuggled into it, as if it was apologizing. Vil-tsum finally gives in and accepts the apology, returning the affection.

“Does your tsum have any special powers or is there something else you want to tell us about all of this?” Epel asks you with a mocking smile.

“This is ridiculous.” Vil claps his hands twice and his tsum looks at him. “Let's go, peanut. It's time to go back to Pomefiore. Unlike you, I have a schedule to keep.”

Vil-tsum looked at your tsum, then at you and quickly hopped towards you until it gave one last jump that ended with it on top of your head.

“Are you disobeying me?” Vil seemed to really start to get upset. “After everything you did to my beauty products and my patience, you still have the nerve to-” He was surprised by your tsum suddenly jumping into his arms. He stopped talking to concentrate on catching it.

He looked at your tsum who smiled at him with its little eyes. The corner of his mouth seemed to form a small smile. Then your tsum jumped onto his shoulder.

“And what do you think you're doing?” Vil asked, letting slip in his tone of voice that he was found it a little amusing. Your tsum began to rub its little face against Vil's cheek. “Hey, be careful with the makeup. My products are durable, but if you rub too hard you'll smudge it and get yourself dirty.” Vil picked up your tsum and took it off his shoulder. It looked slightly sad and disappointed, but Vil smiled and kissed it on the forehead and your tsum made that happy sound again.

“Are you still glad that you stayed in your room, big brother?” Ortho asked the tablet. “Your tsum looks very happy in (Y/N)'s arms. And that adorable mini version of them could be snuggling up to you instead of Vil Schoenheit.”

“I had to be delusionally full of myself to think that someone or something would choose me over a hot supermodel.” Idia said in that sullen, giving-up voice.

“Hmm... a little help...?” You asked, holding a tsum in each arm and letting another balance on top of your head.

The only way to make the tsum leave you alone was to promise that you and your tsum would later stop by each of their dorms. That and dance with them before you leave since your tsum was unable to participate in the dance they had done before.

Idia-tsum was the only one who didn't seem very happy with the idea, but you and your tsum managed to convince it, because now it would have the opportunity to dance with you and your tsum. But even so, it only did that for the two of you.

All the tsums wanted to dance with you and/or your tsum, besides Epel, Ortho and Sebek (although the latter didn't want to admit it) also wanted to dance with your tsum. So you ended up doing a dance with partner swapping so everyone has the opportunity to dance with both of you.

After the dance the hardest one to convince to leave you and your tsum to continue the walk was Idia-tsum. It didn't want to be separated from the two of you, especially your tsum.

“Come on Tsum-shi, this is starting to get cringe.” Idia asked it.

The other two tsums went their separate ways but not without giving you and your tsum one last kiss on the cheek. Or what resembled a kiss since tsums don't have mouths.

After leaving with his tsum-liege and meeting Malleus again, Sebek told him that your tsum had come to greet his tsum and the others. If he doesn't tell many details of what happened, Malleus will only feel sorry for having been separated from them and not being able to be present at that moment, but he will be happy that his tsum could meet yours.

But if Sebek makes the mistake of telling him about your tsum's interactions with the other tsums and especially with Vil, he'll have to apologize so to stop the thunderstorm that had begun to form above them.

As you would visit them in Diasomnia later, he waited to see the interaction between your tsums and satisfied with what he witnessed he did not touch on the subject of what happened with Vil and the other tsums.

More Twisted Tsumderland content:

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

Yuutsum 3 (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

#Twisted Wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst fluff #Twisted Wonderland Fluff #Twisted Tsumderland #tsum tsum #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Epel Felmier #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Ortho Shroud #Sebek Zigvolt #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x Reader

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miley1442111 · 3 days ago

Text

videos and violence- a.hotchner

summary: an unsub capturing you makes for a pretty interesting love confession

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!fem! reader

warnings: mention of reader being hurt, violence, mental, physical, emotional abuse, regular criminal minds topics (i think that's it? PLEASE TELL ME IF I MISSED SOMETHING)

not entirely proofread

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You knew you had to take in your surroundings, try to remember what had happened before, think.

All you knew was that one moment, you were on your way home from work, and the next you had a bruising grip on the back of your head, leading you through the hallways of this dusty, dark, shithole.

Suddenly, he stopped. He was a man, obviously, 5’7ish, buff build, dark clothing that doesn’t fit him correctly, strong, shoes a size too big, and a balaclava. “Get in there, bitch.” American accent, deep voice, but definitely grew up in Washington. There was a chance you were still in Washington.

He shoved you down the stairs, into a basement. When you came to, your head was bleeding and you’d definitely broken a few ribs. You just hoped that Aaron would find you. You tended to your wound as best you could and allowed yourself to rest, knowing more would be to come. You had to figure out why he wanted you. Was it because he knew you worked for the FBI, or were you just the closest woman to him?

The ground was cold and hard, but it would do for one night. You hoped this would be one night. You hoped the team could solve it.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Where’s Agent Y/l/n?” Morgan asked, sitting beside Spencer in the briefing room.

“Late,” Rossi grunted.

“She’s never late,” Penelope argued. “She’s never been late a day in her life and she didn’t answer any of my phone calls this morning.”

Aaron Hotchner, your secure, steady, collected, and calm boss, began to sweat a little. The same thing had happened to him, you weren’t answering his calls, there was no ‘I got home safe’ text, and you didn’t answer your door when he knocked on it that morning.

“I’m sure she’s just sick,” Rossi shot back, trying to put Penelope at ease. “She’s a big girl, you don’t need to baby her.”

Aaron didn’t miss the way Rossi looked at him during that last part. He wasn’t babying you, he’d never do that. He wanted to protect you, keep you safe, make sure he got to see that beautiful smile everyday.

“We have a case,” Aaron announced. “Right here in Washington.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

No matter how loud you screamed, he didn’t stop. He kept hitting, and punching, and hurting. By the time you walked back down to your basement, you were exhausted, bruised, and scared. You were slightly losing hope that Aaron and the team were going to find you, because he was ramping up his activity. He was more violent, more attentive to you, watched you more, got closer, stayed closer. And he wasn’t feeding you. He had no intention of keeping you alive. But he was filming you. You’d noticed the hundreds of cameras all over the room, all pointing to you.

“What do you do for work?” he asked from the darkness of the top of the stairs.

“Paperwork,” you lied. “FBI paperwork.”

“You work for the Federal Bureau of Investigations?” he asked.

You nodded. “It’s boring.”

“How much do you make?”

“About 90 grand a year,” you offered. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I’m a baker,” he answered. “I work in the cafe on 14th street.”

“I like that place,” you chuckled painfully. “Makes good bread. My boyfriend loves it.”

“You have a boyfriend?” he asked.

“Yeah, but he’s out of state at the minute. Work stuff,” you lied. “What about you?”

“A girlfriend? No, no,” he chuckled, rubbing his hands together. It’s like he watched a movie to find out how to be a villain, I mean, come on. “No one for me.”

“What’s your boyfriend's name?” he asked.

Well, now or never. “Aaron Hotch,” you answered calmly.

“And what is it that you love about Aaron?”

You could feel yourself tearing up, you knew he was about to take you for another torture session, and you didn’t know if it would be your last. There was a slim chance Aaron would see this, if he ever caught the guy. Now or never. “I love Aaron because he makes me feel safe. He smiles at me all the time which is nice because he doesn’t smile often. He knows everything about me, and he’s still here. He’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met, even though he puts on a brave face everyday. He cares deeply about the people around him, and he tries to hide the way he worries about people, but he can’t. He just cares too much. He’s wonderful, if I’m being honest. He always brings me home stuff from your bakery, the one on 14 the street, it’s our favourite date night tradition.”

“Good, very good. I know exactly who you’re talking about,” he smirked. “I’ll make sure he gets this, and the videos of the torture.”

You grimaced.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“He takes women of all races, hair colours, eye colour, etc. He doesn’t keep them for more than three days, he videos the torture and sends it to us. He’s had three women so far-” Morgan thought out loud.

“A new video just came in Hotch,” Penelope burst into the room, tears in her eyes. “I-It’s-”

“No!” Morgan and Spencer both jumped up, disbelief coating their features. Aaron stayed still, a wash of rage and terror rolling over him. You’d been gone for two days, they had one more to find you.

“Give me the laptop, the rest of you don’t need to see this,” he ordered, taking the laptop out of her hands as she ran straight to Morgan for comfort. Rossi stopped him before he left.

“You sure you want to see this? We all know how you feel about her,” Rossi whispered, silently offering himself to watch the videos.

“I have to find her,” Aaron whispered, his voice breaking. “I need every angle I can get.”

Rossi nodded, allowing him on his way.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You’d survived another day, but the broken bones and bruises were starting to ache more and more. He’d gone to work, and you had 8 hours to try and get out, but the cameras. You just hoped he’d gotten cocky and sent it to the FBI before you were dead. It was your only chance.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“We have a lead,” Aaron announced, rushing to put his coat on. “The bakery, on 14th, that’s where he works.”

“Let’s move out people!” Morgan shouting, rallying the cops to follow the team.

The video of you, broken, bruised, and battered made him feel physically sick. The way you spoke about him made his heart burst, the way you gave him the message gave him hope. He could still find you.

The car ride felt long, too long; and getting the dick to confess felt too long too. Searching the building felt too long, and getting you into his arms felt too long.

But when he rounded a corner and went down a set of stairs, there you were. Right in front of him. Lying in a heap on the floor. He rushed to your side. “Please, please,” he begged. “Open your eyes for me baby,” he pleaded as he looked for a pulse, it was faint but there. “Ambulance, now!” he shouted up at the officers who were following him. “Come on, open your eyes for me,” he whispered.

Somehow his shaking and his words woke you up. You stared at him for a moment, confused and scared, and then it registered. He’d found you. The video had worked.

“Aaron,” you whispered, reaching out to touch his face. “You found me.”

He nodded, a relieved smile on his face. “I’ll always find you,” he promised. “And I’ll never let this happen again.”

“You saw the video?” you asked, pulling yourself into his arms.

“I saw the video sweetheart,” he nodded. “I know.”

“I love you,” you whispered as he hooked a hand under your legs and another under your back.

“I love you too, more than anything,” he whispered back, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, obx, the bear, marvel, top gun, the hunger games :)

#not entirely proofread #criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner fluff #thomas gibson x reader #thomas gibson #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction

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notjustjavierpena · 1 day ago

Text

Needy

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: LONG AGO, @yxtkiwiyxt tagged me in a post about Pedro in a black tee and jeans that reminded her of her hubby. Then this happened. I hope you can forgive the wait.

Summary: Pregnancy comes with horniness.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Pregnancy and hormones, touch-starved, hot sweaty javi, so many pet names in spanish, praise kink, pregnancy sex, light dom/sub dynamics, dirty talk, couch sex, slow and intense riding, piv sex, pussy eating, face-sitting, finger-fucking, multiple orgasms, squirting, handjob, pillow talk

Word count: 4.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62563027

Needy

A few months ago, a friend from work had asked you how far along you were in your pregnancy over lunch and snickered knowingly when you said that your second trimester would be ending around now. She had leaned close and whispered in a voice only meant for you that she’d not been able to keep her hands off her husband when she’d entered her third trimester.

You had scoffed with heated cheeks, embarrassed by talking about your sex life with a coworker, and had not been sure what to say to such a statement. However, at 29 weeks pregnant where only sweatpants and dresses feel comfortable, you find yourself grateful that someone took the opportunity to warn you. Why? Because it’s like an itch that you cannot scratch.

You want Javier Peña all the goddamn time, not caring whether you will be the cause of rug burn to his poor manhood. You are a caged animal, stalking around restlessly in your enclosure because the confinement makes you stressed out and horny. There’s no time for decorum, no time to keep it together because it’s so torturous to have hormones raging through you that you have two options: Either you get down and dirty, getting fucked by him, or have a hissy fit that results in sobbing after flinging yourself onto the bed (a thing that often results in Javier doing his duty and pulling up the skirt of your dress with polite surrender).

Thankfully, not all days are that bad. Some days, the prickle of your skin and the ache between your thighs are nothing more than a dull sensation in the very back of your mind, a simmer that has a manageable warmth. It means you can take on the day without being on the verge of tears, suffering greatly if you aren’t touched.

Today, however, is not such a day.

Javier has been out of the house since sunrise, having kissed you goodbye in the morning in a way that has left you wanting more. His reason for leaving you to yourself all day hasn’t been unreasonable, spending his time as an unpaid ranch hand at his father’s farm.

Meanwhile, you have been listening to the tick of the clock on the wall, waiting like a damsel in distress for him to come home and save you from the curse your body has you under. You have tried everything to satisfy the devil in you and you’ve gone as far as to keep your phone locked up in your bedroom so you wouldn’t text him to come back early. After all, Chucho has had a rough time during spring, and this summer has called for an extra field hand, a thing he cannot afford to pay for in his retirement. The way Javier is committed to his family is actually one of the things you love most about him, and also why you had convinced yourself that it was fine to have a day to yourself this morning. However, as the sun dips lower on the horizon, it becomes more evident that Javier can never leave this long again.

Finally, as the evening drags on slowly and the sun starts painting the living room in yellows and oranges, you hear the sound of your husband’s truck pulling into the driveway. Your body responds immediately, your pulse spiking in the anticipation of the moment he walks in the door but there’s impatience in you unlike anything you have experienced before.

You rush to the window to peer out at him and spot him just in time to see him stepping out onto the stone driveway and slamming the old door shut behind him. A thrill goes through you, a longing to be in his arms immediately and it is so profound that you feel your throat tightening with relieved tears at having him here.

You cannot wait the minute it takes for him to walk inside, you decide, and so you rush to the front door and pull it open. You rush outside to greet him, your dress swooshing along your knees as you take quick steps.

The second he sees you, you can feel yourself ready to melt into a puddle. He looks dusty and tired yet still smiles softly as his eyes meet yours. He is just about to greet you when you give him no chance to speak, wrapping your arms around his neck and catching his mouth in a deep, fervent kiss. He rests his hands on your hips and you think you might die if he doesn’t have you right here.

“I missed you so bad,” you confess in a whine and find yourself unable to stop kissing him. You obscenely nip at his bottom lip, brush your tongue against the seam of his mouth, all the while murmuring in a desperate plea, “Don’t you ever leave your horny wife that long again.”

When in need of catching your breath, you make the mistake of burying your face in the crook of his neck. You pant already from how worked up you are, your mouth feeling sensitive and swollen already from your make-out session. His scent is of the outdoors mixed with the sweat from hard labor, and as you pull back slightly to gaze upon your man, you see the damp patch on his black t-shirt around his neck, a testament to how gorgeous he has looked as he worked under the sun all day.

Finally, as he is allowed to take a breath, a low chuckle falls from his mouth. There’s a tinge of desire in his voice as he speaks, “Let’s get you back inside the house, mi amor (my love). I fear what you might do out here.”

“Promise me you’ll fuck me,” you groan against his shoulder, at the mercy of your body and therefore not strong enough to play coy, to tease and make him chase you. You’re all his because his touch is the only remedy for your relentless yearning.

“Te prometo, mamacita (I promise, mamacita),” he promises. He locks up the car, smiling to himself as he sees you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. When he has pulled the handle a few times to make sure the truck is locked, he urges you to go back into the house.

When you start walking, you feel his broad hand rest on the small of your back and the car keys jingling from his thumb. You have to catch a feeble noise in your throat, your palms laying on your swollen belly to keep them busy.

Once inside, Javier throws the car keys into a bowl on the side table next to the door. He marches across the room, boots heavy on the floorboards, and then lets himself fall down into the couch with an exhausted grunt. He reaches up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands, sighing deeply from the satisfaction.

You follow him around like a puppy would follow its owner, and when he doesn’t make any moves to fulfill your every desire this instant, you take matters into your own hands and show him that you are not playing around when you display your desperation.

You waste no time straddling him, hiking up your dress enough for the only fabric between him and your core to be the cotton of your panties. It’s visible, the way his mouth goes dry, the way your beautiful pregnant body turns him on in a ridiculously short time. When his left hand touches your hip again and his right rests on your belly, rubbing soothingly, he silences every voice in your head.

“Mi niña (my girl),” he coos when he has regained his composure and your whole body buzzes. He has a coy smile on his face, “You’re so beautiful up there.”

“How beautiful?” You ask, reaching between your bodies to undo the zipper on his usual jeans to get his cock out. He doesn’t protest, simply lets you take what you need from him until the edge has been taken off. He knows better than to dismiss your urgency when you have been deprived of his dick for an inhumanely long time. Instead, he reaches to slip a finger into the front of your panties and moves them to the side.

“More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen in all my years on this Earth.” he charms with immediate success because you drag his jeans and underwear down just enough to be able to sink down on his bare cock and with no concern for his gnawing zipper.

He groans while you gasp, your mouth falling open and your eyes blinking closed at the immediate relief of being stretched out by his generous size. He fits inside of you, large and pulsing against your fluttering walls and you find yourself already moving on top of him.

“Fuck, you’re drenching me,” he murmurs gruffly beneath you, and yes, you are. Your pussy is soaked for him, squelching obscenely each time it takes him to the brim, “Is this all because of how I left you alone all day? How cruel of me. I made this pussy all wet.”

Usually, you would reply with something but you have been so desperate during the last few hours that you find yourself completely fucked out already. You move faster, greedy for release, and Javier says your name to no avail.

Suddenly, his hand slides up your forearm and over your shoulder. It settles right at the base of your skull and it holds onto you firmly until you come back to him. He tilts your head so he can lock eyes with you.

You whimper when his other hand stops your movements on his cock altogether, and it borders on embarrassing when your desperation causes you to tear up, “Please, Javi.”

“You’ve got such a greedy pussy today, mi amor (my love),” he tuts disapprovingly and holds you still. He seems almost like he would be content with just having your warm heat wrapped around him, squeezing him occasionally when you think about what he could be doing.

“I just want you so much, papí,” you moan pathetically and wiggle slightly in his lap. He nods while dragging his nails down your spine, testing you to see if you will behave in the seconds it takes to place his palms on your sides.

“I know,” he says gently while cupping your waist, “Listen to me.”

You are wide-eyed and at your wit’s end. You’ll do anything to have him make you come.

“I’m going to make you come on it,” he says and fucks up into you once, nearly making you fall off his lap from the surprise. He steadies you with his hands sliding across your skin to firmly hold onto your lower back, urging you to start rolling your hips back and forth instead of up and down, “And then I am going to make you sit on my face until you come on that too.”

You swallow thickly, tiny mewls and moans escaping your mouth as you ride him slowly. You thoroughly love it when he directs you, takes care of you, and since getting pregnant, he knows how much you need him to make decisions before you throw a tantrum in your horniness.

“Is this what you wanted?” He taunts without any meanness behind his words, clutching your body in his grip to keep you from falling into another vigorous pace, “To make your pussy feel good, hm? She happy now?”

“Mhm… Very happy,” you nod with a tiny smile, moving slowly in his lap because he isn’t allowing you anything more. He fills you repeatedly with each movement of your hips over his, the head of his cock threatening each time to slip out of you before he guides you to take him all the way again. It feels like heaven, your orgasm building slowly but steadily instead of rapidly. He knows you so well, knows how disappointing it would have been if it was over too soon.

“You’re all I thought about today too,” he murmurs against your mouth when you dip down to kiss him, cupping his face and letting your thumbs caress his cheeks before you go further up to tug at his hair. Your hands are made to slide between the soft tufts, just like your body is made to melt into his arms.

“Te quiero, te quiero, te quiero (I love you, I love you, I love you),” you repeat breathlessly, a little firmer in your pace. His cockhead catches at something just right inside of you and it makes you nearly double over into him.

“Don’t rush it, mamí,” he tells you gently and maneuvers you to tilt your hips ever so slightly, “It’ll come. You’re so close. Fuck, I love you so much.”

You come so intensely from that slight change of angle that your vision blurs. It is deep and overwhelming, everything below your navel pulling at you before going off into squeezes of pure, indescribable ecstasy. Your voice cracks, your moans pitch, and you can hear Javier’s name tumble from your lips while you repeat just how much you’re there.

“I’m coming, fuck, I’m coming,” you groan with furrowed brows, pulling his face into your chest and feeling him kiss on top of the fabric of your dress.

“I know, baby, I know,” he moans while you ride it out, “Fuck, I know you are. You’re taking it so fucking well.”

It takes a few long seconds for your climax to start fading. You rock in his lap until you cannot do it anymore, and then you come to a halt with him still settled deep inside you. He rubs your thighs to soothe and draws back a little to look at you while you pant from exertion.

“Eres perfecta (You’re perfect),” he mumbles with awe, “Did that help, huh?”

You nod with a blissed-out expression, suddenly very aware of how much you were actually in distress because there’s a lightness to your very core. Your cheeks are warm, your heartbeat slowing after having pounded in your chest.

“Let’s take this off,” he coos, helping you out of your dress completely. You haven’t worn a bra today since your breasts are sore and firm with milk, and so he has you in nearly all your glory while you are warming the length of his still-hard dick too.

“That better?” He asks again, kissing the bare skin of your upper chest where you feel like you are burning up from not having undressed earlier. Eagerness comes with a price.

“Sí (Yes),” you mumble and inhale his scent while resting your cheek on top of his head. You swirl your hips to make him growl beneath you, “Your turn.”

“You think I’m done with you?” His voice is smug as he stills you on top of him again before his hand rubs along the curve of your pregnant belly, “You think I’d break my promise and let this pussy be all touch-starved? She needs more.”

“But Javi,” you say with your brain still fuzzy, mind a jungle from how well he touches you.

“Shut your brain down and take off your panties. I want to take care of my pregnant wife,” he orders with a peck to your slightly parted lips. He groans when you drag yourself off his cock, leaving a wet shine on the smooth skin. It slaps against his belly and forms a dark stain on his black t-shirt.

You stand, albeit a little wobbly, in front of the couch and shimmy out of your underwear in the most elegant way possible with a pregnant belly. Then you watch him tug his jeans down his thighs and kick them off. He follows it up by ridding himself of his t-shirt too before rearranging himself on the sofa to make it easy for you both. He chooses to lie flat on his back, stretching his body, overworked from today’s farmwork, with a satisfied grunt while he waits for you to climb onto him.

“Come here, mamacita,” he says when you straddle him carefully. He coaxes you to crawl forward by pushing gently on the back of your thighs. You always worry about smothering him like this, especially when pregnant, but he doesn’t ever complain, actually gets more enthusiastic about it than you.

“¿Así? (Like this?)” You ask shakily when you hover just above his ravenous mouth. His breath ghosts over your cunt, cooling the slick slightly and driving you crazy.

“Así, yes, just like that,” he replies. He reaches up and runs his index finger across your clit before spreading you open for his tongue, your body responding with a sharp intake of air, “You want me to touch you here, baby?”

“Yeah, so badly,” you swallow around nothing and close your eyes, waiting patiently for him to stop his teasing. He is so good at this that the wait is awful.

“Yeah,” he repeats without mocking you, “My gorgeous wife is insatiable.”

Luckily, he doesn’t keep you waiting. His nose nudges you first then his mouth. He kisses your sensitive clit a few times before tensing up his tongue, it feeling silky smooth where you need it the most.

One of his strong hands rests on your swollen belly while the other scratches along the length of your thigh, creating nail marks that he soothes with his rough palm afterward. Simultaneously, his touch makes you relax further and settle more onto his face.

“Use me, honey. I deserve to be used for how cruel I have been,” he hums below you before he stretches his neck and dives in to practically devour your cunt, You rock yourself back and forth with tiny gasps at the heat already tightening in your belly, his nose catching on your clit with every other grind of your hips to build another orgasm steadily.

But despite how much he’d claim that he’s not aching to come, you wouldn’t believe it for a second. With a stretched-out arm behind you and your palm on his thigh to steady you, you lean back slightly so your other hand can reach for his still hard and ready cock. You wrap your fingers around him to earn a gasp against your core, the work of his tongue faltering for just a second.

You stroke him with the same hunger that he is showing you, working him to the edge while both of your moans bounce off the walls even if he is muffled by how enthusiastically he eats your pussy at the same time.

He comes with his lips wrapped around your swollen clit, his body tensing up for a second until it releases with a groan. The sound is so hot that you grind a little harder on his skilled tongue, feeling how he pulses in your hand and coats it in thick stripes of his seed.

He responds almost gratefully. Both hands settle on the small of your back to pull you forward onto your hands and knees. You try not to get come onto the couch, giggling in surprise through a moan of his name. But the laughter dies in your throat when he holds you firmly in place and slips one hand between your thighs again.

He pushes two fingers into you while suckling expertly on your clit. You see stars begin to form on your eyelids, almost wail when he makes a come-hither motion towards your belly.

It’s too much. It’s not enough.

“I think… Javi, I’m gonna— Stop, I’ll—“ you cry when your thighs start to shake. He doesn’t relent, apparently knows exactly what he wants and he isn’t shy about it like you are. His fingers work fast, enough for your cunt to drool into his palm.

And with that, you come one more time and the pressure it releases inside of you is so good that it makes you gush all over his chin. Your voice breaks into a high-pitched cry and he holds his fingers against that perfect spot inside of you, keeps them there while your orgasm peaks and you can’t help but apologize for how much you’re wetting his face.

When you think it is over, he drags the digits out slowly and shoves them back in. The pads of his fingers have you hunching over and gasping his name, another gush forcing its way past his fingers. He drinks your come as if he were a man in the desert, desperate and starved.

You take it like a champ, trying not to squash him with how your thighs tighten around his head during the last few shocks of pleasure that he brings out of you, and eventually, you sag enough for him to help you back down into his lap.

You are horrified by the sight of him at first, red-faced and bathed in your slick and come. However then you see the glint in his eyes, the lopsided grin that he gives you as he props himself up on an elbow. He is pussydrunk out of his mind.

“How are you feeling now, mi vida (my life)?” He asks while reaching for his t-shirt with his free hand. He wipes his face with it, his eyes still glazed over with bliss and pride; the combination that only exists in a man who has just made his wife orgasm let alone gush all over him.

“Forget about me,” you laugh breathlessly and use the t-shirt for your messy hand too, “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Very good,” he sits up to face you and lets you take the t-shirt out of his hands. He looks completely at your mercy, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“I bet,” you find a clean side of the garment to wipe at a spot he has missed then playfully swipe at his nose, “And thank you.”

“You’re welcome, mi amor (my love),” he whispers as he comes closer. He takes your wrist in his hand until you drop the t-shirt and then leans in for a long, drawn-out kiss that has your whole body weak. He guides your hand to his face and mirrors it with his own on your cheek. The look he gives you causes you to chew on your bottom lip, “Lo siento por hoy (I’m sorry about today).”

“You don’t have to apologize for your wife being a little crazy because of hormones,” you brush it off - after all, the aftermath always makes you look back on it and feel silly - but he just rests his forehead against yours and nods.

“I know but I should have cleared it with you and with the baby, or at least have taken you with me,” he kisses your forehead and you feel how tired you are now, the sweet gesture grounding you even more than sex ever could.

“As if we could have done anything about my little problem at your dad’s,” you try once again to let it slide. You rest your face in the crook of his neck, content with your naked vulnerability in his presence.

“I would’ve found a way,” he jokes and earns a slap to his chest but then his tone grows serious. He buries his nose in your hair, “Eres todo para mi. Eres mi vida, mi esposa hermosa, la madre de mi hijo (You’re everything to me. You’re my life, my beautiful wife, the mother of my child).”

“Javi,” you look up at him shyly from where your head rests. He smiles down at you but mirrors your tone to tease and says your name.

“Hablo en serio (I’m serious). I would do anything for you, mamá,” he adds, “And for our bebé.”

“Even fetch me - I mean us - a snack?” You grin, glowing with fondness for him but feeling nearly overwhelmed by his words in your state of bliss. He knows how much you love him though, knows it especially by how you look at him right now.

“Especially fetch you a snack,” he wraps his arms around you to hug you tightly, your belly bumping against his, “What does the queen of this household want?”

“A strawberry milkshake?” You suggest hesitantly as if to make the request optional, “If it isn’t too much trouble.”

“A strawberry milkshake!” He repeats enthusiastically and makes you laugh, making the way he detangles himself from you easier even if you want him to never leave your side again.

“Who knew that growing a baby came with having a househusband,” you say while he gets up from the couch and helps you to lie down comfortably. He puts a pillow under your knees and one behind your back. The couch’s mess will have to wait.

“It’s the full Javier Peña experience,” he leans down over you for one last kiss before he pushes himself to stand up straight once more. He doesn’t look at you as he continues, has already turned his back. You watch the way his muscles flex as he heads for the kitchen, shirtless and only in his boxers, “And I plan on doing it forever, mi reina (my queen).”

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

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left-nut-official · 2 days ago

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I'd personally want to be careful with conspiratorial rhetoric like this when there are other, very plausible explanations for both Trump and TikTok's actions.

Almost all of the largest tech companies are sucking up to Trump, with many of them making huge donations to his inauguration fund. Not only is his administration going to be in charge of writing laws and enforcing regulations, but Trump also has a history of being pretty fickle and switching who he shows preference to based on whoever spoke to him last.

Trump being on their side is especially important for TikTok, which is still in a precarious position even after the ban has been delayed. It makes perfect sense for TikTok to use this as an opportunity to brown nose Trump in the hopes that it appeals to his ego and he does something to stop them from being permanently banned.

For Trump, suspending the ban allows him to start his administration by doing something that most people want, which is good for his popularity as a leader as well as his own ego.

Is it possible there's more going on behind the scenes? Of course. But I think there's a lot more political value in focusing on the many other actions Trump's administration has made so far and arguing against anyone seeing this as a win that Trump was the one who proposed the ban in the first place, and he still hasn't done anything that'll stop the ban from happening when the 75-day period is up.

Just in case any of you are confused, TikTok being banned and coming back not even 24 hours later with a giant "we thank President Trump" message is NOT a win. It's a huge red flag and a sign that this was a thousand percent planned.

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tfwbluu · 2 days ago

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PAIRING — jungwon + f!reader

WARNINGS — exhibitionism, fingering, oral (f. rec), pet names, cum eating, he’s lowkey rough and a bit mean, just more kink talking.

WORDCOUNT — 0.6K

NOTE — finally finished writing the kinks series for all members >< i hope this is up to your standards, special meal for my moot ! lmk if i need to add anything to warnings <3

Jungwon knows you love his hands, and he uses that to his advantage—whether it’s caressing your thighs under the table, gripping your waist or hips, or having them buried deep inside you, completely covered in your arousal.

“Yeah, that’s it… cum all over my fingers, angel,” he murmured, not minding how your hands gripped his wrists tightly, as he curled his fingers just right inside you.

He doesn’t care whether you’re in the privacy of your home or out in public. If there’s an opportunity to have you, he’ll take it—even if it means teasing you under the table, calm as ever, while his fingers push you closer to the edge with people nearby.

“Oh, she’s not feeling well at the moment. Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled,” he said with an innocent smile to concerned staff members. The second they left, he leaned in to whisper in your ear, “You’re drenched, pretty. Do you want them to know how much of a mess you are for my fingers?” He pushed your panties aside and slid a finger inside, making you yelp softly.

Jungwon most definitely has an edging kink or some form of orgasm control. There’s something about the way he teases the fuck out of you, bringing you so close with his fingers only to stop at the last second, just to see your lips tremble and tears well up in your eyes.

“Aww, are you close?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. Just when you thought you were about to fall over the edge, he pulled his fingers away, leaving you a whining mess.

“Shh, be a good girl,” he whispered, pressing his palm firmly against your soaked pussy before teasing your entrance again, curling his fingers fast and deep, coaxing more of your juices out with ruined orgasms.

He’s mean like that—making you work for him. He loves watching you desperately grind against his thigh, completely bare while he stays fully clothed, your wetness soaking his pants.

“Come on, work for it, baby. Maybe then I’ll reward you,” he cooed, gently tucking a strand of hair out of your face. His gaze drifted down to your hips moving desperately against him. “So pretty.”

He may not be the strongest in the group, but he’s strong enough to manhandle you into any position he pleases—especially when he pins your wrists behind your back as he pounds into you mercilessly, leaving you no choice but to take it.

“Stop squirming and take it, baby,” he growled, his grip firm on your wrists as his hips moved harder and faster. “Pretty little pussy taking me so well,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to your back as you melted under him.

He likes doing quickies. The type to drag you into a small, quiet room, push you to your knees, and have you suck him off before heading back to work like nothing happened. He’s busy, after all, and the least you could do is be a good girl and take care of him, right?

“Quiet,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding as he hastily undid his belt and pants. With one firm motion, he pushed you down onto your knees, his cock already hard and finding its place in your mouth. “Take it, baby, I gotta be quick… please,” he muttered, gripping your hair tightly as he thrust into your mouth. His movements were fast and rough, his release hot and thick as it spilled deep down your throat.

But he’s also a jealous little shit who doesn’t care if you have somewhere to be—he’ll make sure you’re marked up and completely claimed before letting you leave. His bites, kisses, and possessive touch ensure everyone knows exactly who you belong to.

“Can that guy fuck you this good, baby?” he growled, slamming into you with such intensity that your moans came out broken and desperate, your nails digging into his arms for support. “All mine,” he whispered darkly, his teeth sinking into your neck, leaving yet another mark as proof of his ownership.

TAGLIST — @kikidoul @rikiives @contyynishimura @ziiao @lilmarsh-t @bxcndd @laylasbunbunny @d-dilemma

#( tfwbluu )#enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen smut #enha smut #yang jungwon smut #yang jungwon x reader #yang jungwon x you #jungwon smut #jungwon x reader #jungwon x you #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enha hard thoughts #enha hard hours

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lostinlovingrevery · 3 days ago

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"You know how animals have displays to attract mates? Logan is no different. When hes in the mood, hell puff himself out to you, do things he thinks youll like. I mean, i suppose avg males do this too but logan gets repetitive over it until you notice. "

This is too cute 🥹 Could I maybe request a drabble based off this? (Sorry if you already got a message similar to this, my wifi is being weird and I can't tell if it actually sent lol)

A/N: Thank you for this ask!! Aren't drabbles supposed to be 100 words? IDK, but this is more of cute fanfic with 1400+ word count! I hope this is what you wanted!

I imagined a F!Reader but I didn't use any pronouns or describe readers body so it could be GN!

I pictured trilogy! Logan too bc I felt like he was the one most likely to act like this honestly LOL. I tried to use the 4 things you'd see when it comes to mating displays - Looks, Strength, Food, and Gifts. (I just kept picturing him like those birds from birds of paradise video)

Courtship Rituals

Warnings: Just Logan being needy ;), Suggestive ending ;) ;)

It’s been an extremely busy day.

Aside from the meetings, the classes, chores, and various other activities that had taken up the schedule, it left little time for you to be with Logan.

Which he was totally fine with by the way. He knew you were busy.

Still, he’d stop by your study. “You done yet bub?” he’d ask, as he put his palms on your desk, seemingly puffing out his chest, the muscles of his arms bulging out as if he were flexing them. It was hard for you to not get distracted by him, especially since he was wearing a white t-shirt that fit very tightly around his torso; You swore you could make out his pecs through them. He actually looked really good since you’ve seen him early this morning- still asleep in bed. His hair looked especially good today, and he trimmed his beard to look a little neater. Not to mention he had on those jeans that fit his ass snuggly - the ones that you can never stop staring at.

God he’s so hot

You couldn’t allow yourself to be distracted though- Charles absolutely needed you to finish some research by tonight, so you couldn’t stop.

“Sorry baby,” You said sympathetically, “It’s gonna be a bit. I’m busy today y’know?”

You felt so guilty the way he visibly deflated, you reached out to grab his hand. “Later, ok?” You kissed the space between his knuckles, and he forced a smile, before leaving you alone to do your work.

Later you were in your classroom, getting things set up and preparing for your next class as you write your lesson plan on the chalkboard, you happened to turn your head to the window- where Logan was conveniently outside your classroom window in the yard, working out with nothing but his sweatpants on and his shirt off. You could see the sweat glistening off his skin, once again- you felt an incredible urge to go be with him, but you couldn’t- since your next class is in 20 minutes.

You went to the window and watched him, where he spotted you eventually after he finished doing a set of pushups- you lost count at 50. He greeted you with a small wave of his hand, a smirk plastered on his face. You gave him a polite wave back, and blew a kiss to him. He waved for you to come out, but you shook your head- tapping your wrists and pointing to the classroom with your thumb. He shrugged, and nodded understandingly- but deflated once again.

During lunch, you stopped into the kitchen to grab something to eat, finding Logan in there already. He looked up at the sound of you entering, and smiled.

“Was just about to get you. Made you lunch.” He says, turning around and presenting the plate- one of your favorite lunches. Grilled cheese (Extra cheesy of course with 3 different types of cheeses) Homemade fries with sea salt, and a small cup of tomato soup. Your stomach growled loudly.

“Lo!” You smiled taking the plate, “That’s so sweet, thank you-” You reached down to take a bite of a fry, your eyes rolled back and groaned dramatically. “Oh that’s SO good.” You reached up to peck him on the lips, as he smiled proudly down at you. He figured, if his impressive muscles and body weren’t enough to sway you away from your work - then this would.

The way to anyone's heart - food.

“You done for the day? Maybe we could spend some time-”

“Professor!”

The sound of Rogues voice came into the room, distracting you and Logan. “Hi, sorry- you said you would help me out with my science project?” She asks you, you swallowed your fry and nodded.

“I did, just give me a moment-” You inform her, turning back to Logan who’s deadpan expression made you want to laugh. “Sorry sweetheart, later?” You ask, pecking his lips again with a loud smooch.

“Yeah, sure.” He nods, his very best to not show his disappointment, watching you walk away with Rogue- and the plate of food in your hands.

You were talking to Jean in the hall, complaining about all the work you had to do. Some of it your fault- stuff you had been procrastinating, but some of it just piled on suddenly. Not to mention it was your turn on the roster to cook everyone dinner, and you had tons of laundry to do- another thing you put off.

Logan came around the corner, his arm sliding across your waist as he kissed your cheek. “Hey sweetheart.” He says lowly to you in that deep timber voice that drives you crazy- and he knows it too. He gave a courteous nod to Jean.

“What you got there Logan?” Jean asks, noticing he was holding something behind his back. He pulled his arm from his back, revealing to you a bouquet of wildflowers. You gasped.

“Lo, these are beautiful!” You smiled taking them. Jean chuckled,

“I’ll leave you lovebirds alone.” She teased, turning and walking away, leaving you and Logan alone. He braced an elbow against the wall looking down at you as you admired and sniffed the wildflowers.

“Thought you’d like them.” He says. You beamed up at him, leaning up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I was thinking…” His other hand went to your hip, as he straightened his back out- practically towering over you. “If you got some free time now we should-”

“Hey! You busy?” Scott interrupted, pointing at you, then noticing the flowers, and Logans demeanor over you. Not to mention the absolute scowl Logan was giving him. “Uh, nevermind-”

You laughed, playfully hitting Logans arm. “What do you need Scott?”

Logan let out an exasperated sigh. He loved you, but boy do you always jump at the chance to help someone out… Guess that’s why he loved you. You were always great at lending a hand. You, however, have been terrible at picking up signals. He dropped his arm from the wall, stepping back to give you space. Tuning Scotts annoying voice out and looking down at you with adoration. It wasn’t just the sex that he was wanting- he was just feeling needy for you today, but you were too busy and had a lot on your plate.

He took the bouquet from you, telling you he’ll put them in a vase while Scott stole you away from him. Rejected twice, and stolen away from him twice. It did not boost his ego.

Finally, the evening came, and you were in bed, relaxing with a book. You had changed out of your clothes and into Logan's shirt, while Logan was in the shower, the steam and scent of soap wafting through the bathroom door of your shared bedroom. You heard the tap turn off, and you closed your book, setting it on your bedside table- next to the vase of flowers he got you- as you waited for him.

He came out, towel wrapped low on his hips, droplets of water dripping down his hairy chest and torso, and he looked surprised to see you in bed. “Oh, hey.” He greets. “Didn’t know you when you’d be back.” He mutters under his breath.

“Came in just as you got in the shower.” You smiled, tilting your head and crossing your arms, noticing his slight attitude. He nodded, turning to pull out some clothes. “Logan.” You called out, and he turned his head. You brought your hand up and beckoned him with your finger.

His grumpy face disappeared and he smiled, turning back to you and walking to the bed, dropping the towel to the floor as he kneeled onto the bed and climbed between your legs, his arms wrapping around your waist and upper back.

You brought your hands up into his hair, intertwining your fingers through the wet locks and you giggled. “You were missing me today weren’t you?” You smiled. His expression went soft, the corners of his eyes crinkling as his lips upturned to a small smile.

“Yeah. I was.” He says softly.

“You were like a peacock. You were totally strutting your stuff around me.” You teased. He rolled his eyes.

“Didn’t work clearly.” He mutters.

“So you admit it!” You laughed. “Cause since when did you work out outside my classroom window?”

A deep blush came across his face as he became embarrassed, looking away, before looking up at you with big pleading eyes. You hummed, leaning forward and giving him a soft kiss that he quickly deepened, pressing himself deeper against your body.

Parting with a gasp, you ran your thumb across his cheek. “For the record, I missed you too.”

#logan howlett #wolverine #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlett x you #wolverine x reader #vans daydreams #logan howlett fluff #im so nervous to post this cause i don't know if this was what nonny wanted!#but i do think the fic by itself is cute though

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mysticarcanespellbook · 16 hours ago

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"You're nodding off again, Azrael," I said, prodding him awake.

The elf awoke with a start, his long golden hair whipping--no, that was too quick for what it did--floating, somehow, back behind his head as he suddenly straightened up and leaned forward, his golden eyes scanning something in the dirt I could not see. Content with whatever it was, he leaned back in his camp chair, and yawned, making a sound not unlike that of a mourning dove.

"I was merely meditating. You disturbed my trance." His voice was mellow, yet commanding. "Besides, even if I did fall asleep, I'd still be able to focus on my task. Magic elf powers, you know." He flashed me a grin, his teeth almost blindingly white against his rosy skin.

I stood up and stretched. "Humans do similar things sometimes. I've gone to bed and dreamed solutions to my problems a time or two. Can't solve them until I wake up, though." I walked over to the wood pile and grabbed a few logs, then winced as their bark scraped against my palms. "Like fueling our fire, for instance. I'm not exactly the sleepwalking type."

"Arcane problems can be solved in any state of mind," replied the elf, "so long as you're thinking about them." He turned his head to face me, then studied me as I brought the logs to the fire. "You should try it sometime. Then maybe you can kick your coffee addiction."

I ignored him. "This should get us enough flame to last another hour or two. Let's hope you can complete your ritual by then." I walked to the folding table we set up by our tent and grabbed my kettle. "Boiling some water won't break it, will it?"

"It shouldn't," said Azrael. "The only things the Lady specified was focus, firelight, and time." He yawned, a sound like the wind gently whistling past a cave. "I have plenty of all three."

He didn't sound convincing. I brought my kettle to the water cooler, a big orange plastic barrel that had seen many a camping trip. I filled the kettle and walked across the crunchy brown grass towards Azrael, who was now tracing invisible symbols in the air with his finger. "Well," I replied, "I'm not quite as alert as you elven folk, so you'll have to forgive my indulgence." I set the kettle down on the ground for a moment and took my fire gloves out of my jacket pockets. Putting them on, I grabbed the kettle and hung it on the spit above the flames.

No quips from Azrael this time. His ritual demanded his attention, apparently. It made sense, though. I had seen the way the other high elves sneered at him, the way they looked at his attempts at magic the way a businessman might look at a toddler singing in his office--with a mixture of amusement and irritation, as if his attempts were cute, but a waste of valuable time.

He told me once, what the point of the thing was. Some sort of coming-of-age ritual. It was supposed to reveal to him what his purpose was, and awaken any latent power that could drive him towards it. I had told him at the time that he was lucky, since humans had to figure out their purpose all on their own, with no magic to help them at all. The look on his face when I said it made me wish I hadn't.

It was the seventh time I had gone out with him to figure this out, and it certainly didn't feel any different: just like every time before, the sky was steel gray, the wind was gentle but bitterly cold, and the grass had long since gone from soft to brittle. It was going to snow soon, and I could feel it. The only comforts I had, standing out in this field with my friend, were the warmth of the flame, the promise of a hot coffee, and the knowledge that whatever happened, at least Azrael wasn't facing this alone.

The kettle began steaming. I left the warmth of the flame once again and went back to the table to get the instant coffee, which I carefully took the lid off of before pouring a measured scoop into my empty thermos.

Azrael spoke up again, breaking our relative silence. "What's so great about coffee, anyway?"

"It depends on what you like. Some people like the caffeine content." He scowled at this, but I continued. "Others like it for the earthy taste. I prefer having a hot drink that ain't just hot water." I went back to the kettle, which was now whistling loudly. "Any of those sound appealing?"

The elf laughed, dropping his hands into his lap. "Come on, Rob, you know that nothing you can say will ever get me to try one of your human drugs. It wouldn't even do a thing to me."

"Which is exactly why I offered," I replied. "You look practically frozen, and as much as you are 'one with the natural world' or whatever, I highly doubt you want to warm up by drinking hot water on its own." I carefully removed the kettle and brought it to the table. "At least give it a taste, and that way you can definitively say that your drink of choice is superior. Surely you wouldn't pass up the chance to lord your superiority over me?" It was my turn to flash a grin his direction before filling my thermos almost to the top. Not that he saw it; he was too busy looking at the ground again. I sighed, set the kettle on the ground next to the table and screwed the lid of my thermos back on.

"Something hot would be nice, actually." Azrael yawned again, then continued, "Perhaps this day might not be a total waste."

I shook the thermos, mixing up its contents, and popped the top open. I was immediately assailed by that strange burnt scent that instant coffee seems to have. Not the best coffee, and far from it. I regretted not bringing any cream or sugar or anything at all that could make it better. Still, I liked black coffee well enough, and instant coffee isn't the worst thing on mornings like this. I grabbed a couple of paper cups and poured some coffee in each before closing the lid and walking back, coffees in hand.

"Sorry in advance, it's not freshly ground and is definitely going to taste strange," I said. "People also usually put something in it to lessen the bitterness, or to make it sweet before they--"

I wasn't able to finish my sentence before Azrael snatched his cup from my hand, nearly spilling some coffee in the process. "Enough warning; I know what I'm getting into," he said before chugging the whole scalding-hot drink in one go. He wiped his mouth and tossed the cup into the flames.

He sighed. "That wasn't half-bad, Rob. Kind of reminds me of the way dirt tastes, and obviously the warmth is really nice. I can see why some people might drink this even without the caffeine."

A gentle gust of wind blew on the flames as I sat down, pushing the smoke towards me, then Azrael, then away from us. I shut my eyes tightly against the smoke until it passed. Azrael, on the other hand, went back to tracing in the air, unfazed by the smoke that surely clouded his vision. I sipped at my coffee, enjoying each hot sip as I finished it off. I tossed the cup in the fire and leaned back in my chair.

We sat in silence around the fire for only a couple more minutes before suddenly Azrael leaped out of his chair with the force of a bullfrog and the grace of a jaguar. He began pacing rapidly, his eyes flitting back and forth between spots on the ground and in the air. "What's wrong, Az? Are you feeling okay?"

"No. No, I am not. I'm certain it's that blasted coffee. I feel shaken up, like--like some sort of cyclone. I can hear my heart in my skull and I can feel my blood flowing through my feet. I feel like I can see the whole world, and like I can sprint across it without breathing. It's a wonderful and terrible feeling all at once. I feel--by Gaia, I see it!"

One second later, green symbols appeared faintly on the ground and in the air where he had been looking, growing slowly stronger until they looked like I could reach right out and grab one. They then floated towards Azrael until they were maybe a foot out before stopping and spinning slowly around him. Eventually they started picking up speed, becoming so fast that they looked like solid green rings. I couldn't make sense of what was happening, but Azrael stood in the center of it all, basking in the power that these symbols must surely be holding. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back, and he wore the biggest smile I'd ever seen him have. Eventually, the magic rings faded, and he opened his eyes and stared into the sky.

"So, you have it then? You know your purpose?"

He looked back at me. "Yes. And I might know yours, too. Come on, we need to pack up." He ran to the kettle and picked it up with his bare hands before pouring the water over the fire, dousing the logs somewhat. Before I knew it he was grabbing our water cooler and dumping the contents in the pit as well.

I gathered the contents of the table and put them in a box to take to our car before folding the table up and taking it in one hand. Azrael, somehow even faster than ever, swooped in and got the box in one hand, the other hand somehow effortlessly carrying the now-empty water cooler, and both camp chairs and our tent in their bags slung haphazardly across his shoulders. "Geez, dude," I remarked, "that coffee sure gave you a boost."

"You don't know the half of it," Azrael replied, his breath somehow not at all ragged. "The Lady must know of this miracle. I thank you, friend, for giving me the alertness I so desperately needed to get this spell to work."

"S-Sure, anytime," I said before stumbling towards my car. "Just let me know if there's anything else I can help you with."

"Actually, there are two things." Azrael dropped the cooler and snapped his fingers. At this, everything we had brought with us suddenly started floating towards the trunk, carefully arranging themselves inside as if they had minds of their own. "One, please join me this weekend in the house of the Noble Ones."

An invitation to the Elven Land? And not just anywhere, but the Lady's residence? "I couldn't! Surely a human would be out of place in such a high court?"

"Nonsense," he laughed, "you are my guest, and I can have whoever I wish with me to celebrate such an important day! Please come with me, I insist," he cried, his eyes piercing me with a gaze stronger than steel.

Oh, what the heck. It's the weekend anyway, and I didn't have anyone at home to worry about. "Fine. I'll go with you, but I need to stop by home to get some more formal clothing."

"Excellent! They'll be delighted to meet the one who gave me my breakthrough. Oh, I can feel my heart swell with joy at the thought! Or maybe that's the caffeine, but I don't care! This is just marvelous!"

"Okay, okay!" I laughed along with him. "I'm going already!" We got into the car and I turned the key in the ignition. "Anyway, what was that second thing?"

"Oh, right," he replied sheepishly. "The second thing."

"Come on, what is it?" I asked as I shifted into drive.

"Alright, alright. Ah, er, when we get into town again..."

"Spit it out, my coffee hasn't kicked in yet."

"About that. When we get into town again, would you mind taking me to the cafe on main street? I really want to try one of those 'espressos' I've heard so much about."

Elves have never been affected by narcotics, making elves incredibly judgmental of human drug use. However, one special human drug is the exception, affecting elves far more than any other creature: caffeine.

#fiction #fantasy #writing #short fiction #short story #elf #modern #modern fantasy

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magics-neptunes-things · 2 days ago

Text

Love Sweet Love

Hi guys!

Happy Steph's day ♥

I'm sorry, I haven't posted for a very long time but I'm working on it. I hope you will love this new Chapter of my Steph's series. You don't have to read the first two, but it's a plus I think.

You can find them here : Lightning Love | Struck By Love

Please enjoy ♥

And Happy Birthday to Steffy ♥

TW : None

When you come back from the USA, after your injury against Colombia, Steph makes you live in her house. Officially to help you with your injury and because she doesn’t have any stairs in her new house. Which is really a good point, because almost all of the other people who could have offered their help actually have stairs in their home.

Steph and you have been friends since you were teenagers, so no one asks any questions when you mention that you are living with Steph for now.

With time, your things found a specific place in Steph’s house, and she even made some more space in her closet for your clothes. Your Tottenham jerseys are washed with her Arsenal ones, you share the vegemite pots that your grandmother sends you and you sometimes wear Steph’s shirt to sleep.

You love the intimacy between you and how everything is so easy with Steph. She is the most easy-going person in the world, and you are falling in love even harder with her every day.

You’re a little afraid of when it will be time for you to go back to your own apartment. It will probably be soon, because your cast has been removed two weeks ago, and you now have an ankle splint to help you walk. You are supposed to still use your crutches, even if you don’t when you are home. You prefer jumping around on one foot.

It drives Steph crazy.

Steph isn’t home for two days now, she had a game in Liverpool and left with the Arsenal squad. You weren’t able to go to watch her because you had to go to your rehab. So, you went to watch Tottenham playing at home instead, cheering for your teammates. Charli and her fiancé came with you to walk Calvin those two days and for the others walk you just stayed around Steph’s house or went in the garden with him.

When you come back home after the game, a look at the clock tells you that your girlfriend will be home in one hour.

You are so grateful for Steph, her patience while you were injured and all the little attentions she had for you during this time. So, you decided to thank her with a real good meal tonight, with all the romanticism you have in you.

You set the table with a red tablecloth, a vase with some roses in the middle of the table and some candles. You listened to the florist talking about the number of flowers for the bunch of flowers, not even knowing before that the number had a meaning. Coming back home, you thought a little bit about your ex-girlfriends and wonder what they would think about your behavior.

You kind of explained to Leila what happened with Steph, without giving her the name of your girlfriend. But you needed to explain to her the reality of your feelings and why things didn’t work between you two.

For dinner, you chose Steph’s favourite meal, and you ordered the ingredients needed to be delivered to you here. It’s way easier for you like this, doing your shopping in crutches would have been way too complicated.

Steph’s car wheels squeak on the gravel in front of the house several minutes after. You jump between the fridge and the table with the starters when Steph opens the door.

A cream and red flash passes next to you when Calvin runs to great Steph, making you smile softly. You distinctly hear Steph cooing and greeting Calvin back, before coming in your direction.

“No! Don’t come here! Close your eyes!”

“Why? What have you done?”

You jump on one foot in her direction, seeing that Steph had in fact closed her eyes. She looks so cute with her low bun, her scarf and her training clothes that you can’t help yourself but steal her a kiss.

You feel her smile against your lips and then kiss her cheek when she talks.

“Is it to distract me about the fact that you are walking without your crutches?”

“No” you giggle. “Can you walk without opening your eyes please?”

You take her bag from her hand and put your hands on her shoulder to walk easier towards the table. You make her stop and move to be able to watch her reaction.

“Ok, now you can open your eyes” you say when you are in the right place.

You totally ignore the table you settled a little bit before, your eyes only looking at her. Steph’s eyes go wild for a moment while she takes everything in sight. You are suddenly nervous, wondering if it’s maybe too much. Or stupid? You never talked about it finally, but isn’t a girl supposed to like being surprised?

Maybe it’s not a good idea finally, after being away Steph maybe just wants to take a shower and go to bed.

“Did you do all of it yourself?” she asks finally, turning to face you.

“Yeah” you nod, fidgeting with your fingers. “I wanted to thank you properly for the way you took so good care of me while I was just like a burden hurt teenager. I am really thankful for you and your patience and your kindness”

You are totally rambling now, talking a little too fast and almost breathless. You weren’t looking at her while talking, looking at the flowers in the middle of the table. But when you feel her grab your hand, you look at your girlfriend again.

“You have nothing to thank me for, I did it because I wanted it. Even if you are terrible to look after, you little troublemaker”

You smile shyly and let yourself relax when she hugs you. You pass your hands around her neck, taking advantage of your position to breathe her scent. You really missed her.

“Do you mind if I go take a shower quickly before we eat, though?”

“No, it’s a great idea. You stink” you smirk.

You giggle when she smacks you behind your head, clinging against her when she pretends to push you away.

“You’re so mean”

“Yes, but I made diner”

She rolls her eyes and smiles before you let her go. She doesn’t smell at all, but you totally understand the need to take a shower and refresh herself after a long travel day.

You lean on the furniture behind you, looking at her leaving to go to the bathroom.

“Steph?” you call her just before she closes the door.

“Yeah?”

You look at her curious face exceeding the port frame two seconds before smiling softly.

“I really missed you”

Her eyes go soft, and you would literally die for the smile coming on her face right now. There is a tenderness in her eyes, and you sometimes are still surprised when you realise that it is destined to you.

“I missed you too” she says softly. “I’ll be quick, okay?”

“Yeah” you smile back.

You look at her going inside the room again, before jumping back towards the kitchen.

“Use your crutches!” you hear her shout from the bathroom.

You roll your eyes again before deciding to oblige and go to look for them. You don’t really know where you left them, and you finally spot them next to the door of Steph’s bedroom. Then you go back to the kitchen and start to warm up a little what you will eat after the starters.

A little lost in your thoughts, you don’t hear Steph coming back. She takes you by surprise, passing her arms around your waist and kissing your cheek at the same time. You almost jump off your skin, which she seems to find very funny.

“You’re so annoying” you grumble, even if you are smiling.

You just can’t resist her laugh.

“I’m sorry. What can I do to help you?”

“Just put your ass on that chair, Catley”

“As you wish”

You weren’t expecting her to take you in her arms, carrying you like a bride, to the table. She then puts you in your chair before sitting in front of you. That wasn’t exactly how you were picturing things, but it’s maybe better like this. At least you aren’t scowled one more time because of those damn crutches.

You have to admit that you are pretty satisfied about how you were able to cook everything. You like cooking, you sometimes don’t have the time or even the energy to do it. But today you really liked cooking for your girlfriend.

After the diner, you went for a quick walk with Calvin and then to the living room. Arsenal men are playing, and it probably will be a good game. You take advantage to snuggle against Steph, happy to find her arms back. She absently strokes your back under your shirt while watching the game, talking sometimes about something that comes into your minds.

“Dean wrote to me earlier today” Steph says casually.

You feel your heart missing a beat and a strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach. All the fun you had after sharing Calvin's last mischief in the park is now very far away.

“What did he want?”

Your tone is flat, probably giving Steph a hint that you may not be handling this information as easily as you should.

“He wanted to see Calvin”

You can feel her eyes on you, but you look straight in front of you, looking at the TV screen without really looking at it.

“I thought Calvin was your dog only, not his?” you frown.

“He’s mine only, but he still wants to see him again”

You just hum for any answer. You don’t believe it for a single second, in your opinion it’s just an excuse to be able to see Steph again. You know that your girlfriend is the one who ended the things between them. Now that some time has passed, maybe he wants to see if they maybe could get closer again.

You don’t like the strange feeling, now not only in your stomach, but in all your body. You maybe are with Steph for several weeks even months now, but you still don’t take your relationship for granted. You are fully aware that you can lose Steph at any time. Few people know about your relationship after all, it would probably not mean much in the eyes of the world. To yours, however, it would be worse than anything.

On another hand, you can’t tell her that you don’t want her to see him. You won’t take that right.

You raise your eyes on Steph when she pokes at your ribs, to see that she’s still looking at you.

“You know that if I ended things and cancelled my engagement with him, it’s for a good thing, right?”

“Of course” you mumble, looking at the screen again.

She already told you that he might have a thing with a girl he was talking to while they were still together. But other than that, you never really asked about him. Steph never mentioned him either, to be fair.

“Are you still talking to him regularly?” you ask finally, raising your eyes on her again.

“Nope. It was the first time he wrote to me since Christmas. You’re the one being friend with your ex”

She’s right here. Since the confessions you made to Leila, you and her are friends again. She started throwing teasing comments on your Instagram’s post again and you call each other from time to time.

“If it bothers you…” you begin while sitting.

“Not at all” she smiles “It was just to point out that you are still in contact with one of your exes too. But I trust you.”

“I trust you too. But Leila knows we are together. Your ex doesn’t even know that you aren’t single anymore.”

“I’ll let him know, okay?”

She’s looking at you with so much affection that you can only smile back at her. You feel your body relax again and you cuddle closer to her again.

“Okay” you say, burying your face in her hoodie.

********

Several days later, you are finally able to walk without any crutches, having received the green light from the physio team. You don’t feel any discomfort in your foot anymore and it’s a really good point.

In fact, you were even able to train with the rest of the team today and that makes you happier than ever. You probably won’t be able to play that weekend, but it’s obvious that it will be okay for next week.

You are practically hopping when you come home that day, parking your car next to Steph’s one in the driveway. You frown when you see that there is another car too, not recognizing it like Beth’s car or even one of her teammates. In your memories, no one is driving a Skoda.

Like usual, Calvin comes to greet you when you arrive, this time silently stroking himself around your legs. You pet him, before hearing voices coming from the living room.

“I just… It doesn't make any sense to me. I thought you were friend with her, nothing else”

Dean. What the hell is he doing here? You frown again, taking two steps to be able to hear better what is happening in that living room. None of them heard you coming in.

“Nothing ever happened while we were together, Dean” you hear Steph sigh.

“Still. She just waited for us to be over to shoot her shot?”

“Not at all. She doesn’t even say anything, I kind of pushed her to know about her breakup at Emily’s wedding and… Well, you don’t have to know everything, but I was the one figuring out alone her feelings for me. Then all clicks and it was like evidence”

There is a beam of silence, only broken by Calvin chewing with application one of Dean’s shoes. You let him do it with a cold satisfaction. You don’t like the way that man tries to make you pass for the one corrupting Steph in the wrong way.

In contrast, you love the way Steph doesn’t share everything with him. It belongs to you and her, not him.

“And just for the record, you were the one getting over it very quickly with that girl from your medical team”

“It wasn’t serious. She was just a rebound”

“You were talking with her when we were still together.”

You can easily picture Steph, her eyebrow arched, and her arms crossed on her chest.

“It was a mistake” he sighs. “I shouldn’t have done that. If I knew it would push you to end things between us, I wouldn’t even have looked at her.”

“She wasn’t the reason for our breakup. I mean maybe a small part of it, but it wasn’t the big deal. What I said at this point was valid and still is. I just don’t have any love feeling for you anymore”

Must be painful to hear, but at least you have to give credit to Steph for standing her ground and being clear with him. You empathise a little bit with him though, you will be destroyed if Steph ended things between you. Even if you never will talk to someone else like he did.

“Okay but what will you do when you will want to start a family? You won’t even be able to do it together”

Okay, we are now finished with empathy. Maybe now is the best time to make your appearance. You go for the door again, opening it without any discretion.

“Love, I'm home!” you shout happily while almost slamming the door.

You take off your shoes quickly without even untie the laces, petting Calvin’s head.

“Living room” you hear her answer.

Deciding to put it more in the show, you start to talk while you are still outside the room.

“Did you know that Hayl… Oh. Hi.”

Dean and Steph are both standing in the room, separated by at least two meters from each other. You look at the both of them, taking the situation. He seems upset and doesn’t answer anything, and you drag your gaze away from him when Steph talks.

“Hi Sweets. How was training?”

“Great”

You smile at her and hesitate to go for her, but when she raises her arm to invite you to hug her, you don’t hesitate. You pass your arms around her waist, kissing her cheek softly. You don’t want to push things too far either, you know she won’t like it.

You cringe a little at the silence coming after that, exchanging a glance with Steph. You want to know what the hell is this guy doing here, but you don’t really know how to ask that question.

“Dean informed me that he found some of my things in his boxes and wanted to give them back” Steph informs you.

You probably will be forever grateful at how much Steph knows you and seems to read into you. You just nod before turning your eyes toward him. He was already looking at you and you know that look perfectly. He seems to be jealous of your proximity, but you won’t move.

Maybe it’s a stupid thing to want to mark territory, but you don’t want him to pop randomly at Steph’s door, now that he knows where she lives. Anyway, you don’t take your hand off of your girlfriend’s back.

“Lucky you were home” you finally answer.

“I didn’t realise I needed to ask for approval to see my ex-fiancée” he growls.

“She lives here too, actually” Steph intervenes before you even can open your mouth “She has her words to say”

You use your better poker face at this, because you totally aren’t living here officially. Now that you are able to walk correctly you could probably go back to your home, but you never really left. Steph never asked you to do and never made you feel like you were too much here.

“I have to go” Dean finally says. “I have training”

You don’t move but Steph nods, saying goodbye too. You can’t hide the smile creeping on your face when you hear him grumbling when he finds his chewed shoe, Calvin now sleeping peacefully on his bed next to the couch.

You love that dog.

When the door is closed, you feel Steph take a deep breath and lean a little more against you. You realised how tense she was, but you are surprised by such a relief.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, kissing her temple.

“It was the first time I saw him since I left our home” she explains to you. “I told him I was seeing someone without saying your name, but he didn’t want to leave before knowing how you are. I’m sorry, I don’t think we will be able to hide our relationship for any longer”

“It’s not a problem for me” you shrug. “People have known that I love women since my teenage era. What about you, though?”

“I don’t know” she begins slowly. “I haven’t any problem with Kyra knowing it to be honest. But maybe I’ll need to talk about it to my family first”

“Okay. If you need me, just tell me, yeah?”

Stephs smile softly at you, and you kiss her for good this time. The kiss is soft and slow, and you feel her thumb stroking your cheek softly.

“So, what did Hayley do?”

********

Later that day, you are looking at the ceiling, lost in your thoughts. Even if you tried all the rest of the day to forget about Dean and what he said, some things are dancing in your mind.

Did Steph and him talked about starting a family? And if it was the case, why does it bother you so much? They planned to get married; you shouldn’t be so disturbed with that. You know you are lucky to finally be with the girl of your dreams, but that strange feeling in the bottom of your stomach won’t go away.

You tried to distract yourself by cooking with Steph, playing some video games with her and telling her about your first training back since your injury, and it went pretty great to be honest.

But now with Steph under the shower and Calvin sleeping, you are alone with your thoughts.

“I was waiting for you to come with me”

Steph’s teasing voice makes you smile softly. You turn on your side to look at her when she enters the room, wearing a big shirt and probably panties, even if you can’t see them given the size of that shirt.

“You are the most beautiful girl in the world” you mumble.

Your smile grows wider when she rolls her eyes and makes one grimace of her own. You love her with her hair down.

“That’s true!”

“It’s not” she giggles while coming with you under the cover.

“Yes it is”

You let her have the time to lie on her back before you lay on her, sighing with ease. It’s your favourite spot in the world. You enjoy her stroke in your hair while she scrolls on her phone for several minutes, before starting to draw shapes on her hips with your fingertips.

“I can hear your brain boiling, Sweetheart” Steph finally says. “What’s going on?”

You bite your lips softly, looking for a way to approach things. Because she doesn’t know that you heard a big part of her conversation with Dean, and you don’t want to upset her. Your silence pushes her to try to guess what’s in your mind.

“Is it football related?” she asks first, and you shake your head no. “Is it about us?”

“Kinda” you hesitate. “I just…”

“Is it about something you heard earlier?”

Damn. You look at her, stunned, torn between guilt and amazement. You can see the ghost of a smile on her face and her eyes shining with fun.

“Do you think I really don’t know you?”

You roll your eyes with a smile, accepting the teasing easily. She doesn’t seem mad, and she waited for you to show something to talk about it. You really don’t deserve that girl.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I didn’t know it was him” you shrug.

“I knew it the second you passed the door” she smirks, making you smile too. “Plus, I don’t have anything to hide from you. What part of the discussion is playing with your head?”

Sitting on her hips, you pass a hand in your hair. You don’t know how to express yourself and how to tell her things. Once again, you don’t want to fight with her. But you promised each other early in your relationship that you will always discuss and talk about things, not to drag any misunderstandings along.

Steph waits patiently, looking softly at you while playing with the edge of your shirt. You finally decide to go straight to the point, it will be easier like this.

“When he talked about having a family. Is it something you discussed together?”

You try hard to fight against the pictures coming in your mind, focusing on your girlfriend’s pretty face.

“Not really” she frowns. “We were both into sport and I don’t think it was time for us to have this conversation. He was very traditional you know, first dating then living together, then engagement… One thing at time”

It does make sense actually. You nod softly, trying to process this information.

“But was it something you wanted?”

You watch her looking at you with a little bit of… angst maybe? That doesn’t seem good and just when you were going to tell her that you finally don’t want to know the answer to that question, she starts to talk again.

“No, not really. It’s very selfish but I wanted to finish my career before even thinking about it”

Oh. That wasn’t what you were expecting. It’s probably strange to feel a little relieved about it.

“It’s not selfish” you assure her with a smile, redrawing the features of her face with your fingers. “We, women, have to choose between sport or baby. It’s so stupid”

She nods softly, suddenly lost in her thoughts. It looks like things were exchanged because several minutes before you were the one thoughtful. Now you feel lighter than ever.

“What is it?” you ask, tilting your head on the side.

“What about you?”

“I was never serious enough in my relationships to even talk about it” you roll your eyes.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t want to have kid one day”

She has a point. You feel your cheek getting redder because to be honest, the idea of you and Steph with a little kiddo running with Calvin in a big garden is something you would love. Maybe even back in Australia, who knows.

“I do want kids, but not carelessly. I want to have time for them, all of that…”

“Okay” Steph smiles softly.

“And a great mummy to raise them with me” you add, winking at her.

“Okay” Steph says again, laughing this time.

“But not now, though”

“Not now”

Steph repeats your sentence before suddenly grabbing you by your hips to change your position, making you lie under her while she straddles you.

“We have something else to discuss first” she says.

“Oh, do we?”

“Yeah. What do I need to do for you to live officially here? Lose your keys? Burn your house?”

“You just have to ask” you laugh.

“In that case… Would you like to live here with me?”

“I’d love to”

She smiles at you with so much tenderness that you feel your heart almost burst with love. Taking her gently by the collar of her shirt, you drag her towards you to kiss her. She doesn’t wait any second to kiss you back, making you smile against her lips.

“You’re such a dork” you giggle shortly after.

“You love me, though” she answers, her head now on your shoulder.

“I do. You don’t know yet how much I do”

“I love you too.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #steph catley imagine #steph catley x reader #steph catley

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blueheron15 · 2 days ago

Text

TOO SOON TO TELL YOU I LOVE YOU

pairing: jj x fem!routledge!reader

summary: jj navigating his childhood and adolescence while seeing john b as a brother, but y/n as something… more.

warnings: flangst, suggested smut

a/n: wow this was longer than i thought it was gonna be and thats why i am edging yall with the ending... THERE WILL BE A PART TWO

jj and john b had been brothers since third grade. it was common knowledge for everyone on the island. don't cross john b unless you wanted to deal with jj, too, or vice versa. it was a well-known fact.

they began playing together at recess, and soon, john b came back home talking about his new friend. he would eventually begin bringing two lunches to school with him so jj could actually eat.

the first time they hung out outside of school, they went fishing off of the ocean at the chateau. they were called inside for lunch by the ringing of a bell.

"wut was that?" jj asked in his southern drawl, toothless mouth quirking in confusion as he dropped a minnow back into the water.

"my daddy's callin' us back for lunch." john b explained, beginning to pull up the anchor of the johnboat.

"is your daddy nice?" jj asked, helping his friend gather the ropes.

"he's just a normal dad." john b shrugged, adjusting his hat before starting the motor.

"my dad hates me." jj explained, as if it were a simple fact of life. he sat down.

"well, i think mine'll like you."

from that day on, jj had practically been adopted into the routledge family. the littlest sibling, y/n routledge, was only five when they met, and was relatively closed off at first. while the four of them ate at the table that day, big john had shown an affection towards his son and jj, but made no effort to include his daughter in the conversation.

the age gap, which seemed significant at first, slowly dwindled away as john b's friend group expanded to the rest of the pogues. y/n hung out with them sometimes, too.

jj had always thought she was nice, and he enjoyed getting a rise out of her, but his best friend for life was her brother. that's who he was looking for on the night he happened to fall in love with her.

y/n was 12, and jj was 14. he knew john b was at a small party kiara was throwing (a farewell party to kildare high school, if you will), but he was hoping he would be back by one am. jj stumbled into the chateau, tripping over the step into the house.

"shit!" he cursed, his already bruised cheek making contact with the dusty hardwood floor. "ugghhhh" he groaned, slowly hoisting himself up.

"jj?" he heard a voice mumble.

his head snapped up, finding y/n standing in the kitchen. suddenly, his cheeks flushed as he looked at his star wars pajama pants, embarrassed that she was seeing him like this. "uh, yeah." he cleared his throat, taking a step further into the dimly lit house. "hey, y/n."

he could have sworn he heard her sniffle, but she too took a step forward, flicking on the living room light.

"isn't it passed your bedtime?" jj asked, at the same time y/n said "what happened to you?"

his hand made it's way to the back of his neck, scratching. "nuthing." he said dismissively. "just got inta an argument with my old man."

her face contorted into a frown, walking up to him and grabbing his arm. as she lead him into the bathroom, he had a strange thought that she looked adorable in her polka dot pajama pants and one of pope's old t shirts.

"why'd he do this to you?" she asked softly, grabbing disinfecting ointment from the cabinet. "sit on the toilet so i can clean you up."

jj rolled his eyes, deflecting. "i dont need you to clean me up. was lookin' for your brother anyway."

"well," she started, confirming his previous thought. "john b's not here, and neither is my dad cuz he never is, and in case you didn't know, it's been 10 years since my mama left, and i'm all alone, and i'd really not like to be alone right now so could you please just sit?"

she finished her rant with a stray tear leaking down her cheek, a red face, and a huff of air. jj tried not to let his grin show. they way she got so flustered, the way she annunciated each word, made his heart flutter despite the heaviness of the situation. "hold your horses, i'll stay." he said, raising his hands up in surrender.

he sat down on the toilet lid as she tended to his busted lip, cut under eye, and bruised cheek. she worked in silence for a little while.

"he did this to me cuz im a piece of shit." he eventually muttered.

"you're not." she insisted, shaking her head.

"you only think that because i'm john b's friend." he scoffed. "maybe he's right, anyway. he caught me stealin from the gas station. maybe i deserved this."

she looked at him. jesus, jj thought, when did her eyes become so... pretty? "you didn't think we're friends?"

jj looked down at the floor, before bashfully meeting her gaze. "guess we are now."

jj slept over, obviously, and they sat together on the couch as she showed him the only existing photo of her and her mother.

"i wonder if she would like me if she knew me now." y/n thought out loud.

jj took it upon himself to use humor to make her feel better. "pretend im your mom." he shrugged.

"what?" she squeaked, looking at him like he was crazy.

he cleared his throat before raising it an octave to make him sound like a woman. "oh, y/n!" he exclaimed, grabbing the ends of her hair. "my daughter, you're sooo beautiful!"

"ew!" she she giggled as jj got closer and closer to her. "get off me jj!" she laughed, playfully shoving him away.

"you don't want some lovin' from your mama?" he teased, still in a girly voice.

she kicked him gently, squealing in delight at his antics. "you're not my mama!" she insisted.

they began wrestling playfully, jj pushing her so she was laying on the couch, pinning her down. and, when john b walked in, he thought it was nothing more than some classic routledge and maybank sibling bonding.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

from that moment on, there was an undeniable shift between the two of them. somehow, y/n had gone from nice, to adorable, to pretty at her thirteenth birthday party. the pogues and some of her girlfriends from school had been invited to the chill hang out at the chateau.

she was talking to some of her other friends, in a lovely white sundress and brown cow boy boots, when jj nearly choked on the vodka he had added into his lemonade.

"i never realized how pretty y/n was." pope commented, swinging on the hammock.

"what?!" jj shrieked, spitting out his drink.

"ew, dude." kiara said, rolling her eyes.

"don't you think she looks nice?" pope inquired.

"uh, well, i mean, um" jj stuttered. "what?"

"that's all i'm sayin, dude. y/n is-"

"y/n is what?" john b asked, joining them.

"pope's got a lil crush." kie said, smirking.

"t-this is outrageous!" jj exclaimed.

"why do you even care?" asked kie.

"b-because-"

"obviously because she's like a sister to him and it's gross." john b explained, rolling his eyes. "new rule. no macking on my sister."

"you got that pope?" jj asked seriously, pointing an accusatory finger.

"i wasn't planning on macking on her!" pope cried, defending himself.

jj huffed. "good." he muttered under his breath. he definitely did think pope macking on y/n would be gross. but not for the reason john b had said. something stirred within his chest. it was a gross, green feeling.

...was he jealous?

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

when jj was sixteen and when y/n was fourteen, the "no macking on y/n" rule had been transformed into the "no pogue on pogue macking" rule. this was due to both y/n and kiara being mature enough to wear bikinis. like, proper bikinis.

it was the first day of summer break. kiara was back from the kook academy, jj didn't have to deal with fucking geometry anymore, he snuck off the previous night with some touron older girl and had his first time behind a tree, and holy hell life was good. the pogues joined some other students at the beach for surfing and a bonfire.

but his eyes were on y/n.

shit, was he a pervert? after all, she was only 14, and one of his best friends. she came fishing with him and john b even though she didn’t particularly enjoy the activity. they were constantly play wrestling, or giving each other sea shells as little gifts. and, jj constantly called her mama, much to john b’s demise. it was one of their inside jokes.

she had just looked so good in her blue bikini and she was actually growing boobs. as jj sat on the sand, watching her surf, he barely noticed kiara and another girl approach him.

“hey, j!” kie called.

“‘sup?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of y/n. she was an amazing surfer, but he was ready to jump into action if she happened to wipe out.

“this is lacy.” kiara said, motioning to the girl next to him. she had a nice rack and a sexy body, with beautiful blonde hair. “i went to the look academy with her.”

“oh?” jj said, raising a brow. “a kook, huh? watchu doin’ on this side of the island, princess?” he shamelessly flirted. kie rolled her eyes in disgust, but lacy placed her palm against a tree, leaning in seductively.

“everyone on figure eight thinks they’re too proper to have fun for a night.” she shrugged.

jj grinned. he was catching her drift, alright.

he brought her back to chateau and fucked her good. well, at least he tried to. but with the image of y/n in his mind, he came in like 15 seconds. he made it up to her by eating her out, which was divine, pleasing her in the way he believed every woman should be.

lacy left, and after jj cleaned himself up and put on a fresh pair of boxers and gray sweatpants, he exited big john’s room, which was now practically his after the man’s disappearance, to get a drink.

he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw y/n sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter. she gave him a knowing look, rolling her eyes as the tears fell.

“shit.” he cursed, walking up to her. “uh. you heard that?”

she scoffed. “everyone heard it. i don’t care about that, though. it’s just… i… do you think i’m pretty, jj?”

“what’re you talkin about?”

she hiccuped. “am i pretty?” she repeated. he let out a breath. shit, how was he supposed to answer that? hell yeah, she was pretty. but she took his silence as a no. “i know i’m not. but it’s not fair that everyone sees me as just some little kid.” she explained. “none of the guys in my grade want to date me. i h-haven’t even kissed anybody yet, and you guys are all having sex, and it’s not fair!”

he tentatively sat down on a stool next to her. “you’re still young.”

“so that means i’m ugly?” she retorted.

“i think yer the prettiest girl on this whole damn island.” jj explained. he was so vulnerable, wide blue eyes staring into hers.

“… you do?”

“i do.” he said softly, nodding. he extended a hand, tucking a stray frizzy and sun dried lock of hair behind her hair. “i really do, mama.” he wondered out loud.

“well…” her heart was beating out of her chest as she took in a shaky breath. “thank you.” she grinned cheekily, cheeks beat red.

“you’re welcome.” he said, tailing a finger down her cheek before going to get up.

“wait” she said in a distressed tone. she grabbed his arm, stood up, and quickly pulled him foreword, pressing her lips to his.

it barely lasted two seconds, and jj didn’t even have time to close his eyes before y/n was pulling away.

she stepped back, staring at him. he brought a hand up to ghost over his lips. he had never felt so much electricity. his lips were literally buzzing.

“kie told me her first kiss made her want to puke.” y/n stated. “um. are all first kisses supposed to be that good?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“uh.” he said, voice hoarse. “mine sure as hell wasn’t.”

“oh.”

“yeah… oh.”

“okay. um, g’night jay!” she squeaked, retreating into her room.

jj was doomed.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

y/n routledge had ruined every other girl for jj. he was absolutely besotted with her.

but, the problem was, he couldn't have her. john b would forbid it.

"it's just like, fuckin gross, man!" john b complained, laying on the hammock as he mindlessly threw a hackey sack in the air, catching it. "like, i don't wanna see you macking on my little sister, sorry."

"she's her own person, man." jj said, waxing his board. "just let her be."

"he's a douche." john b insisted. he wasn't very fond of y/n's first ever boyfriend. "she's only 15, why does she even need a boyfriend?"

"i got a feelin' you'll hate anyone she dates." jj replied with an eye roll.

"probably." john b cringed.

jj fought back a shudder. would he hate me if i dated her?

suddenly, y/n came speeding around the corner on her bike, pushing it to the ground and ditching it, sprinting into the house.

"what the hell?" jj asked. him and john b were immediately following her inside.

"y/n?" john b asked, swiftly approaching her. "what's wrong?"

she stood in the middle of the living room, her body wracking with sobs. "h-he... he..." she couldn't even get the words out as she covered her hand with her mouth.

"did he hurt you? what's happenin?" jj asked, concerned. he placed a hand on each of her shoulders, craning his neck down so they were at eye level with each other.

her lips quivered as she sighed, and jj's heart broke.

"he broke up w-with me." she finally managed to get out.

jj recoiled, and him and john b shared a look.

"he's dead."

that night, after the three of them laid together in bed (a y/n sandwich, with her in the middle of the two boys) and did all the girly post break up shit u see in movies together, it was nearing two am when they decided to call it a night.

jj sat on the edge of her bed for a little while, watching her tuck herself in tight underneath the covers.

"you gonna be okay?" he asked.

she hiked up a shoulder. "i'm gonna have to be."

a beat of silence passed. "he's a fuckin idiot for fumbling you." she snorted. "it's true!" jj insisted, his voice growing higher in insistence.

y/n smiled sadly. "thanks, jay."

he gave her a solute. "well, goodnight, mama." he went to get up, but she reached out.

"wait. um. i don't really wanna be alone tonight."

"oh. you want me to get jb, or...?"

in a small and vulnerable voice, she asked. "can you stay?"

"uh, y/n, im not sure how good of an-" he protested, running a hand through his messy blonde locks.

"please, jj." she begged, her voice cracking.

jj didn't stand a chance. "you know i can't say no to you." he whispered, a soft smile on his face.

y/n reached behind her, grabbing an extra pillow and handing it to him. he grabbed the extra blanket on the edge of her bed, getting comfortable on the floor.

they laid in silence for a few moments, just listening to the hum of the crickets and the crashing of the waves in the distance. jj was 99% sure she was asleep, and moved to get up, when she finally spoke.

"he broke up with me because he kept trying to force me to have sex but i didn't want to." she confessed, her words awkwardly cutting through the silence.

"are you fucking kidding me?" jj asked, disgusted.

"please don't kill him." she sighed.

"please don't kill him," jj repeated, mocking her tone. "nah, fuck that. what's this guys address? i swear, i'm gonna-"

"you're gonna do what, jj?" she retorted.

"egg his house, slash his tires, beat him up, i don't know! the point is, that was a dick move. and that's not okay to do. especially to you. cuz your-"

he stopped himself. in the midst of their heated conversation, they had both propped themselves up on their elbows, y/n looking down at jj and him looking up at her. they lowered themselves back down in to a recumbent position.

"i'm what?" y/n whispered.

jj thought for a moment. you’re my girl. you’re so incredibly special. that’s what his mind was thinking. but he couldn’t say that. could he?

“because you’re like a sister to me.” he choked out. he didn’t sound believable at all.

“am i really though?” she pressed.

jj wanted to cry at the unfairness of it all. “we can’t, y/n.” he forced himself to say.

“…i know.” she conceded. “but maybe…” she thought out loud. she let a hand dangle down, off the edge of the bed. “friends can hold hands, right?”

he intertwined their fingers together, holding his arm up for her. “yeah. they can.”

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

jj and y/n continued to find loopholes in order to be able to act on some of their feelings while not making it obvious for john b.

friends kissed each others cheeks. friends took naps together, bodies intertwined in the hammocks. friends got jealous of flirting. friends called each other nick names like “mama” or “baby” or “bub.”

right?

y/n was providing light in jj’s fucked up life, which become increasingly worse with this search for gold.

jj knew that y/n was having a hard time with her brother following in her fathers footsteps. this made them grow closer, as the barrier that was john b was less and less present, constantly on the go or with sarah cameron.

for fucks sake, they were held at gun point today by barry, who jj knew bc he used to sell coke to his dad.

who, speaking of which, beat him to shit. jj didn’t know how to deal with everything and so he bought a hot tub.

he couldn’t be bothered at pope and kie lecturing him. he couldn’t be bothered that he blew the money. but when y/n stepped inside the hot tub upon seeing the bruises on his abdomen, holding him tight against her chest and stroking his hair, he finally broke down.

he allowed her to dry him off and get him into some clothes. they lay together in her room, this time, both together on her bed as jj needed the physical affection.

he was practically on top of her, his face nuzzled into her neck, but she didn’t mind. she ran her fingers through his hair and up and down his back, to the point where he was practically purring and melting completely into her, mending their bodies together as one.

he was never so vulnerable, not with anyone else.

“thank you,” he croaked out. “for dealing with me.”

“hey.” she gently reprimanded. “don’t say it like it’s some kind of chore. i want to be able to help you, bub. we all do.”

he nodded, to tired to put up a fight. “only want your help tho.”

she smiled into his temple. “i feel like you’re the only person who actually gets me.“ she admitted.

“me too.”

that morning, upon waking up, the two of them had shifted to jj spooning her from behind, holding on tightly. and y/n didn’t mind one bit.

“morning,” she whispered sleepily, intertwining their legs together.

he groaned, stretching his legs out, but not separating them from hers. “mornin’”

“i gotta show ya somethin” he said after a few minutes of laying there admiring y/n. she looked so serene and peaceful in his arms, the sunlight streaming in from the windows and making her look like an angel.

“uh oh what did you steal?” she joked.

“i didn’t steal anything.” he said with an eye roll, sitting up and walking out of the room momentarily. he returned with something shiny in his hands. “i got u somethin when i splurged on the hot tub.”

“jj” she gently chided, propping herself up on her elbows.

“it’s fine.” he protested. “everyone knows the cats ass is dope as fuck. here.”

he held out a gold chain with a small j on it.

y/n held it in her hands, smiling down at it, then looking up at him.

“j as in…” she trailed off, smirking. “jj?”

he nodded and unspoken words passed between them. he put in on her neck, and she thought to herself that she would never take it off.

-`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´--`✮´-

the night of john b and sarah’s “death” was the best and worst night of y/n and jj’s lives.

“we… we lost em.” shoupe said, his words echoed by the booming thunder. “i’m sorry.”

“you lost them? what do you mean you lost them? like they’re gone? what are you talking about?” pope tried to frantically clarify.

jj’s jaw clenched. kiara’s face dropped. and y/n just stood there, numb as her heart plummeted into a deep abyss.

“they took an open boat into a tropical depression, pope.” the officer explained.

“so they’re dead?” kie asked.

“we don’t know.” said shoupe.

jj’s anger took over. “you drove em straight into the storm, man! are you kidding me?! come here!” he growled, pummeling shoupe.

“jj, stop!” kiara cried.

“get over here! i’m gonna kill you you bastard! you killed them!” he said, trying to fight off the other cops who were restraining him.

pope tried to reason with shoupe, and kiara was begging for it all to stop.

everything was going in slow motion for y/n. her brother… her brother was dead. there was no way he and sarah could have made it through that storm.

as kiara’s parents enveloped her into a hug, and as pope’s parents came in, extremely worried for their son and his friends, jj and y/n made eye contact.

all they had left was each other.

jj calmed down, and when he ripped himself out of the police’s grip, he walked toward y/n who ran and jumped up into his arms. he held her tight, silent tears running down his cheeks as she wailed.

“no, no!” she whimpered, clinging to jj as if they were the last two people on earth.

“i know baby.” he tried to comfort. “i know.”

they found themselves in the porch the chateau, each sitting on an opposite end of the couch, staring outside. jj was smoking his weed and y/n took the occasion puff.

both of their voices were hoarse and eyes were puffy from crying.

“what am i gonna do?” she wondered, voice cracking. “you can’t let them take me away, jj. y-you can’t.”

“and i won’t.” he promised. “i swear. no one is gonna take you, or hurt you. ever. okay? if they do it’s gonna be over my dead body.”

he scooted closer towards her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her into him.

“my brother.” jj said solemnly, shaking his head and exhaling a puff of weed. “john b was, is, my brother. i don’t know, man… do you think he’s really dead?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything anymore.” she whispered.

“well, there’s one thing i do know.” he said. “with everything happening… shit, who knows? who knows what’ll happen to us? i just… i-i gotta tell ya… john b may be like a brother to me, but you were never like a sister to me.”

with wide eyes, she turned her head towards him. “jj… what are you saying?”

“i’m sayin that… y/n i’ve never seen you as just jb’s lil sister. i’ve always seen you as- as you. you know i’m not good at expressing my feelings.” he took a deep breath, nervous. but he looked into her eyes. “but i want to try.”

she smiled, for the first time all night.

“you’re cute, but somehow sexy at the same time. you make me wanna actually open up to you, and be vulnerable, and be better. a-and, you’re so fucking funny too, dude. i know you’ve always struggled with separating yourself from your dad and john b. and maybe sometimes you think that nobody notices you. but y/n, you’re all i notice. you’re everywhere, all the time, and it’s so scary. but… what’s scarier is the fact that i could lose you like john b and you would always think i saw you as a little sister.”

she snorted at that through the tears. she was rendered speechless.

jj let out a shaky breath. she closed the small distance between the two of them, straddling his hips as they kissed with the taste of weed, perfume, and salty tears invading their senses.

they kept crying hard, but kept kissing harder.

“i love you.” jj said. and once it left his lips, it’s like the damn burst. “fuck i love you so much y/n. i love you so much. we’re gonna be okay. i got you. i got you, mama.”

“i love you” she said, nodding her head. “i love you too, jj.”

so it was safe to say that jj loved each of the routledge siblings.

but y/n?

that was his girl. his person.

(and, when john b came back from the dead, he’d be grossed out to see jj and his little sister macking. but he knew jj would do anything for her.

so, when y/n routledge became y/n maybank a few years later, john b and jj would actually be brothers.)

it was always gonna be P4L, but it was routledge and maybank first.

he used a hand to hold her back, gently flipping them over so that he was hovering on top of her, his beautiful biceps caging her in.

he slid his tongue over her bottom lip and she granted him entrance as they made out. wanting, needing to be closer, she hooked her ankles around his lower back, arching into him and feeling his erection.

"fuck" he panted. he trailed his kisses lower, nipping her ear lobe, sucking on her neck.

"mm r-remember when my first boyfriend broke up with me?" she said through whimpers. "i didn't wanna have sex with him. n-not because i wasn't ready, but because... i always wanted it to be you."

he let out a groan. "jesus, y/n..." he detached his lips from her neck, loving the hickey that had formed there.

"jj... please. i need you." she said, tears staining her cheeks.

he kissed them away. "i need you too, mama." he breathed. they looked into each other's eyes. "ive never needed anyone so bad. all those other girls... they were to distract me from you because i never thought this would happen."

"john b made it a rule to not mack on you." he continued.

she smiled, but it was quickly replaced by a sob at the mention of her brother.

"let me take care of you.. i can't stand to see you hurtin like this."

"please" she whimpered.

and so, she let her legs fall to each side of jj's torso, and he began shimmying down her shorts...

taglist:

@4jjsbank @mkcolon1 @agnxstic @groovypeanutoperatorzonk @starsval @sollamimi @obxcc @onelonelybitch @tv-girllover07

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank smut #outer banks #jj x routledge!reader #routledge!reader #bsf!jj

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