#i was also so incredibly sleep deprived and had just come back after being in jersey for a week dealing with my sick and dying grandma

[learn-and-accept]

I finally got to meet some of my girlfriend's friends and I'm so fucking awkward and I think one of them might not like me

[soursherbat]

LAMB X BISHOP MASTERPOST YEAAAA!!!

(original template link)

this genuinely took me so long but i needed to explore my ship dynamics with ramzi and his bishops! more details under the cut if you want to know more- warning this post is LONG!!!:

[edit: i was obviously rlly sleep deprived while writing this so im editing it for better readability, including using more consistent pronouns for everyone bc reading it back this post. was very hard to parse 💀]

in order, just adding notes and addendums :3c im super sleep deprived so im trying my best but i need to yap about them

ramzi's pronouns are it/he/they!

narinder;

initially a very slow burn relationship, this sheet shows them at their peak. it takes a very long time for the lamb to forgive narinder, and vice versa, but once they're over their differences they're committed.

notes;

he/they for narinder :3c he's bisexual with a preference for masc presenting people! (using he/him for this post)

prefers to be the big spoon but will allow ramzi to take that spot if it really insists on it

reaallly loves to wear the lamb's fleeces and cloaks (the only clothing of theirs that will fit him) but is too proud to directly ask for them

narinder really does not like most people- the only ones he usually socializes with are ramzi and his siblings, possibly a follower he can tolerate for a few minutes. if ramzi is talking to others while narinder is shadowing him he tends to just flick his tail and sulk quietly until his lamb gives him attention again

narinder isn't great with words, he prefers to show ramzi his love with physical affection (in private) and acts of service, while ramzi is more than willing to shower narinder with loving words and acts of devotion

ramzi refuses to confess its feelings to narinder first, full stop. narinder waits and waits, but eventually gives in and tells ramzi how he feels first- ramzi is still feeling bitter and betrayed by narinder, not appreciating them snatching it from its peaceful death to be a tool in his games. they're both incredibly conflicted, it takes a long while for them to work their differences out. its not something that can be solved with a single conversation, but eventually they come to terms with everything that's happened and make amends

ramzi wouldn't actually squash the bug- it'd prefer to just grab it and take it out of whatever space its invaded, narinder will just smack it and be done with it

im just applying the driving one if i ever make a modern au lmfao

narinder cannot cook to save his damn life after being locked up for so long- ramzi had to learn quickly being raised by ratau, i'll be real i dont think that rat knows how to cook

that prickly cat would prefer not to show his love for the lamb in public, but he might sneak a kiss while no one is looking... ramzi however doesn't care, though it does like to fluster narinder a little by flirting while others are around

these two would kill for each other, narinder is practically begging the lamb to let him do so actually- nari is described as the lamb's shadow (affectionately) by most because of how often he's seen just following it around the cult. god help you if you confess your love to the lamb while he's around- though ramzi does get pretty jealous if it sees anyone making eyes at his special kitty...

nari is 4,000 years old virgin to me lmao. ramzi has had a few relationships before narinder, it actually marries shamura before nari- they're not beating the toxic yaoi allegations any time soon they were still battling their resentment around that time

i'll touch on the spicier dynamics in a dedicated post sometime >:3c that'll apply to the rest too-

i wouldn't describe narinder as being awkward, but moreso stoic and lost really. he's also just incredibly pissed off with ramzi, feeling robbed of his rightful status as a god and feeling jealous of everything its built for itself in such a small amount of time- later on he's more flustered than nervous or awkward because that damned lamb wont stop flirting with him

gods help you if narinder even sees you making eyes at the lamb. he's incredibly possessive over his former vessel, its perceived rejection of him made something in him snap and they want to possess it, even if he knows that's not exactly plausible... he's normal, i swear (<-lying) ramzi returns some of that energy, it really does not like followers flirting with its favorite cat- i'll be the first to admit that they've got some toxic codependency going on

-

leshy;

leshy uses any pronouns! he really just don't care that much, same with his sexuality (using he/him for simplicity for this post)

these two fight over who gets to be the big spoon, since they're nearly even in height (leshy tries to argue his branches make him taller) it makes it easier for them to trade big/little spoon positions- but theyre so competitive they end up wrestling over it

leshy can't even see the clothes he's wearing, but he likes the idea of ramzi matching with him, even if he won't directly admit that

ramzi is rarely called by name when leshy is around, it's always 'lambzi', 'lamby', 'cottonball', or any other seemingly sarcastic pet name he can come up with for it- meanwhile ramzi often calls him 'wiggler' or 'wormy'

compared to leshy, ramzi is a little less outgoing. leshy loves to be the center of attention, he loves to pull pranks and cause mischief whenever he can.

ramzi's quick to let leshy know he is loved through any means, though surprisingly leshy is a bit more inconspicuous about showing his affections for his lamb through old traditions it clearly has no clue about but leshy gets a bit of joy watching its confusion (shamura tells it later-)

these two have a pretty easygoing relationship, at first leshy is upset about his lost godhood but he quickly begins to like staying with the lamb when he learns how accommodating and, frankly, extremely chaotic it is- they get along very well and have a teasing, poking and earnestly soft relationship rather early on. leshy admits his feelings first, mainly getting fed up that ramzi hasnt confessed that it obviously likes him by that point

neither of them mind bugs, leshy actually likes them quite a bit. they'd prefer to catch and release rather than smash them

the poor worm is blind of course he cant cook!! he might be able to if he really focused on building muscle memory and focusing his senses but he's honestly just too lazy to bother, heket's cooking is better anyway

leshy doesn't care if anyone is looking, he loves his lamb! he gets a little embarrassed when they know its siblings are around, but she does get a kick out of knowing he's making narinder jealous

ramzi would lay down his life for his precious chaotic grub, it knows leshy is more than capable but it can't help but worry sometimes- leshy knows ramzi can handle itself so he's pretty relaxed about everything, unless ramzi comes home particularly hurt

i like to think leshy was a bachelor in his time... why not?? he's the bishop of chaos, im sure he's started a love triangle intentionally to watch them fight over him- ramzi however is a little less experienced in romance

leshy has not an ounce of awkwardness in his body, ramzi's a little awkward when he says something particularly unhinged but otherwise they match each other's freak a little too well

leshy would never admit to ramzi that the smell of anyone else stuck to his wool makes leshy a little jealous... another reason he likes to lend his clothes to ramzi, really-

-

heket;

she/they/he for heket, she's bisexual with a preference toward women (using she/her for simplicity on this post)

heket is the big spoon, no questions asked. she loves to cradle that lamb in her arms and it is NOT one to complain about that

heket doesnt lend out her clothes very often, but she likes to see how baggy they are on ramzi- she quite likes seeing it wake up wearing her shirts...

ramzi is incredibly formal with heket, usually referring to her by name or some honorific to show its respect (something she appreciates greatly)- meanwhile heket is always referring to the lamb by anything but its name, really

heket's level of social battery depends on the day, some days she would prefer not to speak to anyone, others she's more outgoing

heket shows her affection by making sure ramzi isn't overworking itself, making sure it's eating and sleeping- she knows it can care for itself, but she just wants to protect her lamb.

there's absolutely no way heket would swallow her pride and confess her brewing feelings for ramzi, she waits very patiently for it to finally get its nerve up and admit that it wants to pursue a relationship with her- after (mostly) healing her throat, she doesn't feel so lonely in the cult once her voice returns and she begins to feel conflicted about ramzi... she wants to hate him, but it's doing everything they can to help her siblings and she can't help but respect and admire it for that, she would admit that she would never consider it if she was still a god-

heket thinks bugs are cute, she'll either catch and release them or keep them in a little container for a bit (she's never beating the weird little sister allegations to me)

ramzi's cooking definitely is not as good as heket's, if it cooks a meal the whole cult is asking when it's heket's turn next LMAO-

PDA ruins heket's cool and stoic exterior in her eyes, though she can't just say that to the lamb- she'll gladly give it a hug or a kiss when nobody's looking, though

honestly, ramzi is just protective over all of the bishops. it feels terribly for killing them repeatedly and making them suffer in purgatory, and it never wants to see them suffer again- heket knows the lamb is strong, she's seen it with her own eyes. that doesn't stop her from worrying for it a little when it leaves on a crusade, however...

heket has some relationship experience, though its been a WHILE- forneus and ramzi are her most recent romantic endeavors and she's incredibly awkward about both of them

heket is insanely awkward, she tries to maintain a cool exterior but it's so hard when that damned lamb is so cute and that sweet cat mom is so kind and shaped- whats a woman to do in her situation??

she can get a little bit jealous if her buttons are pushed on the wrong day, but other than that ramzi and heket have a pretty open relationship

-

kallamar;

any pronouns for kallamar! though he/she are most preferred, she's very lax about his gender and loves to experiment (using he/she interchangeably, lamb is referred to by it/its for simplicity)

despite being nearly a full foot and a half taller than ramzi, kallamar loves to be its little spoon! he feels so safe in his lamb's embrace, she would never leave if it was possible

none of her clothes would fit the lamb, but he does have clothing made for it often! he'll be damned if he lets ramzi walk around looking anything less than presentable, even if its naked it must be TASTEFULLY naked- (though his definition of what that means is a bit nebulous. ramzi's convinced he just wants to ogle)

they love to make up pet names for each other, 'mari' and 'kallie' are ramzi's favorites to use for its precious husband. kallamar is particularly fond of calling ramzi his puppy, often flustering it-

kallamar is a YAPPER and she will not shut up about how much he loves her lamb! ramzi doesn't mind it, but she's often talking so much that it can't properly find the words to express it back- so it gives gifts often, knowing how much its wife loves to adorn himself in jewelry and silks!

ramzi is actually a little bit intimidated by kallamar's experience in love and how pretty he is, kallamar ends up making a very dramatic love confession in front of everyone, totally flustering ramzi (though it has to admit it really loves the dedication!)

he is TERRIFIED of bugs kallamar will shriek so loudly if she finds even a small beetle anywhere near her living space- ramzi often finds itself catching the little bugs while kallie screams bloody murder in the corner

kallamar absolutely can cook but he doesn't want the responsibility of cooking entire meals for the whole cult so she intentionally cooks like shit to avoid it- ramzi catches onto that pretty quickly though

these two need to get a ROOM the confessional is NOT to be used in that way!!!

kallamar's overprotective attitude mainly comes from a place of not wanting the lamb's image to be ruined, he'll tend to its makeup and wardrobe, even helping to enforce loyalty amongst its flock to keep its image pristine- and kallamar is just an easy bullying target, ramzi is Very quick to put an end to that!

kallamar is absolutely more experienced than ramzi, though he's no less dedicated to it. it makes their relationship very calm, there's very little tension between them!

ramzi is very awkward around kallamar at first, he's pretty indignant and a bit cruel to it during the first few weeks- once ramzi begins offering him gifts and praise she warms up rather quickly, however. ramzi's disarmingly cute appearance and dirty mouth tends to make kallamar a nervous mess sometimes, though...

there's not a single ounce of jealousy between these two 🧍‍♂️ they both understand that they're dedicated to one another, and can dedicate themselves to others without compromising their bond

-

shamura;

they/it for mura! i feel that they enjoy experimenting with their clothing in relation to their gender, but they prefer neutral pronouns (using they/them for mura and he/him for ramzi for readability)

these two take turns on who gets to be the big spoon, though usually shamura claims that spot

shamura loves to weave clothes for ramzi! they enjoy seeing his face light up when they incorporate designs ramzi has shown them that sheep often wore, wanting to keep that memory alive for him

they're pretty formal at first, but the two of them can't help but call each other by loving nicknames once they've become comfortable with each other- ramzi often calls shamura 'softie' or 'dearest'

shamura prefers to keep to themself, though they've grown rather attached to webber. they've basically adopted the little creature, that's their son...

once clarity has returned to shamura through ramzi's healing, they have a better grasp on their words- but they still struggle to word their feelings a lot of the time. they try their best, but they find it easier to give gifts or show their affections with physical intimacy when words fail them

shamura is incredibly paranoid and wary of ramzi's presence when they're first indoctrinated, until they finally break bread and reach an understanding, shamura doesn't even consider the lamb could feel anything but hatred and resentment toward them. they assume that he wants revenge, but learns that he just wants to help them- it takes a bit longer for the fear to truly leave shamura, but when they never feel that dagger in their back, they begin to soften he clearly isnt lying to them, he's helped all of their siblings become as happy as he can- and he asks nothing in return of them? it feels too good to be true, but they can't help but trust him eventually ramzi confesses first, and is initially (softly) rejected... but theyre not entirely opposed! mainly conflicted, for a while-

they both love bugs, obviously- though sometimes ramzi gets bitten while trying to show shamura the little spiders he's captured

shamura likes to cook but they prefer liquid only foods- it's not horrible, but sometimes they want more variety

shamura is a bit shy about their relationship with the lamb, they're the least experienced with this sort of thing out of all of the bishops- war and reason have no room for love and compassion, after all. they're learning, with ramzi's help

if someone even LOOKS at ramzi the wrong way, shamura is the first to come to the lamb's defense. both a form of devotion, claiming ramzi as their charge they'd guard with their life, and a form of facing their grief- they'd ended ramzi's life once, they don't want to see it hurt anymore

these two match each other's freak so well its scary- you dont wanna see what happens in the mating tent when these two are in there!!

after shamura's initial wariness and shortness with ramzi fades, they become incredibly shy and awkward- they don't know how to navigate all these new feelings, and they don't really know who to turn to for advice

shamura is very possessive of their lamb- they were the first to be wed by him, after all- not to mention i personally think them being a spider influences this quite a bit,

WOAW THATS IT!!! holy shit thats a lot of text.... anyway if u have any questions abt any of them or want more clarification feel free to send me asks i love to yap abt them all <3

oh boy im not looking forward to putting all the tags on this

[featherandferns]

orange juice (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | inspired by noah kahn's incredible music

content warning: mentions of drinking and drug use; mentions of abuse; mentions of bodily harm (vague, non-graphic); sexual content | feel free to message me with questions of detail if any of this concerns you before reading!

word count: 7.5k

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

“You know, on my way here, I saw a dead rat.”

A cloud of cigarette smoke dispels into the air.

“It was funny, you know? Cause I felt bad that it was dead, even though it was a rat. I mean, I knew nobody was going to miss it, and that it didn’t have any rat family or friends which would mourn it or anything. But still…It looked like it had been hit by a car, and it was only small so it didn’t look very old, and it seemed so harmless lying there. It probably had a million and one diseases, but just laying there, it seemed harmless. And it felt weird to be sad about this thing dying which would have only maybe caused more damage if it had stayed alive – nibbling through electrical wires and all that.”

JJ takes another drag of his cigarette as he digests the anecdote.

“Anyway. This just made me think of that,” you quietly finish before sinking back into the silence.

“Did you just compare my dad’s funeral to a dead rat?”

You clear your throat. JJ watches in his peripheral as you look down at your feet and fidget your fingers.

“Shit, I guess I did.”

His eyes cut ahead the moment yours seem to flick up.

“Can’t believe that’s the first thing I’ve said to you in years.”

JJ inhales and exhales the nicotine of his cigarette. “Well, I can.”

That makes you laugh. Small and sheltered.

“I weren’t sure that you were going to come,” JJ tells you.

“Could say the same thing to you,” you reply.

Sighing, he drops the cigarette and crushes it under the heel of his boot. He probably should have worn smarter shoes. But then, why would he? Waste of money and space in his truck. Not like his dad was going to see them anyway.

“I only decided yesterday. Practically drove all night.” As if reminding himself of the sleep deprivation, JJ lets out a yawn.

“How is it, being back in Kildare?” you wonder.

JJ shrugs. “Weird. But also not weird at all. I guess I just feel old. I was driving through town and everything looks different.”

“I mean, it has been five years.”

“Jesus,” JJ chuckles, shaking his head. Had it really been that long?

He shoves his hands in his pant pockets and finally finds the nerve to take you in. His eyes scan over you like one might survey potential damage to a car after a close call. He never lets them go below your waist though. As if losing nerve, he flicks them back up to your head and meets your eyes.

“You look well.”

“Thanks. Right back at ya,” you smile.

With that smile – sweet and simple – JJ finds himself being hurled back through time to his teen years. The reminiscing of his youth and the memories that your presence stirs up feels like reflecting on a past life. Something that he almost had, and something that he didn’t exactly lose, but something that changed.

Everything had changed, really. The streets that he used to drive down with his friends, running away from security and darting to and from keggers and house parties, they all had new homes, new paint, new families. Old mom-and-pop shops were now trendy smoothie spots and hippie bars. Empty plots of land that were a good spot to share a joint had now been bought and developed into stylish holiday rentals. None of JJ’s family was left here, not even his cousin. None of his friends were here anymore either. Well, except for you. Is that what you were to him? A friend?

“It was a nice service,” you say.

“Was it?”

For someone like Luke Maybank, ‘nice’ is probably a generous term for a funeral service that’s void of cheery anecdotes and tender memories. It’s a shame that all the memories JJ held in high regard of his father – of the moments that they were bonded and close – often came with the overarching theme of alcohol or drugs. He wasn’t sure there was ever a genuine moment shared between the two. Whatever praise and pride he gathered from his dad was short lived and sparse. When his dad left the island on the boat he stole, JJ never heard from him again. And now he never would.

“Did they ask if you wanted to say anything?”

“What’s there to say? He was a guy and he died in a bender. Short and simple, I guess.”

You nod and go silent once more.

JJ knows that his answer evaded the politeness markers of small talk, but it was true. Luke Maybank was a human who lived on this earth with no mark to be left apart from those which he laid on his own child. The only way that he’d be remembered was in the nightmares that still sometimes have JJ waking up in cold sweats and reaching for the box of cigarettes by his bed.

“I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have come,” you say.

“No, it’s not…” JJ shakes his head and offers you a smile, but he knows it looks unnatural. He isn’t sure what he’s feeling right now. Perhaps everything, if that’s even possible. “I’m glad you came. I’m just tired and…well, you know.”

The funeral of my father.

“Right. Of course.”

He watches you tuck your hair behind your ears and glance towards the graves. He remembers how you used to do that when you were both younger. It was funny to him: you’d go through the fuss of trying your hair back in one way or another, but you’d always leave out a couple of strands. “To frame my face” you’d tell him, and then you’d precede to spend the rest of the day tucking your hair behind your ears. He liked it though. When you’d be concentrating on something, like surfing or fixing something up or writing, you’d lean forward and they’d come lose and hang over your pretty features. He’d want to mess with them; tuck them behind your ears for you. Sometimes he did. He remembers when you’d be on top of him, kissing him senseless, and they’d come lose and tickle his face. Somehow it would make the whole thing more sensual, with his laughs and your giggles.

He feels his face flush as the memories of nights like those creep back into his head. He shouldn’t think of you like that, not after all this time. Not with how things turned out. And especially not at his father’s funeral.

JJ had come over to you once his father was safely tucked away in the ground, six feet under. You’d attended the service at the church, hiding near the back, and then the burial, and as everybody else departed to give JJ ‘a moment’ (whatever the hell that meant), he’d turned to find you stood near a bench, lost in thought.

“It was nice of you to come,” JJ thanks.

“I’m surprised none of the others are here.”

“They don’t know. I sort of kept it close to the chest,” JJ admits. “I’m actually impressed by the turnout.”

You go to laugh and JJ sees you stifle it. It helps him ease up, smile a real smile for a second, as wicked as that sounds.

“People have layers, I guess.”

“Not my dad.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

You meet his gaze again. Your eyes make it clear that you haven’t shed a tear and neither had JJ. He wasn’t sure if maybe that would come later, once the so-called shock had worn off. He doubted it though. And yet, there was a haze of sadness about him. Death is weird as a whole. The death of a parent like JJ’s, even weirder. Maybe it wasn’t just the funeral causing the sadness. Maybe it was you.

JJ makes a move to leave but before he can even shift his foot one whole step, you’re talking.

“Do you wanna come back to mine? We could catch up. I’m sure you’ve been doing all sorts since I last saw you. Maybe have a drink or two, for old times’ sake?”

“Oh, I don’t drink anymore.”

“Oh,” you say. A pause for thought, then, “well, I have orange juice.”

It’s a strange thing to offer in place of a bottle of beer or glass of wine. Most people would say a cup of coffee. But no - orange juice: that’s where your mind went. It makes JJ smile. It seems so on-par for you to offer him that.

“Okay. Sure. Orange juice sounds good.”

“Do you need a moment, before we leave?” you ask, glancing back over your shoulder to the gravesite of JJ’s deceased father.

The dirt atop of his plot is fresh and stark brown against the green grass. JJ stares a second. The groundkeeper is dusting some muck off the gravestone. The funeral director had offered him a fine granite with award winning chiselling, after recognising JJ from the articles of El Dorado and assuming some high-placed budget. JJ had opted for a simple thing though. Cheap and likely to be hard to read within half a decade. It’s what Luke deserved. Probably what he would have invested into JJ, if the roles were reversed.

“No, I don’t. We can go,” JJ says, voice vacant. He looks back to you. “I’ll drive.”

You don’t live in your childhood home anymore. The place that you’ve settled in is a small home in a sweet looking neighbourhood. In fact, it seems the only part of Kildare that feels familiar to JJ. The front garden is quaint but well kept, with trimmed grass and flower beds that clearly garner a lot of attention and care. The fence is in need of a lick of paint: the blue fading and peeling. A sticky note is attached to the door frame of the front door and it makes JJ smile. ‘Doorbell’s fucked – shout “ding dong” really loud’.

“This is a step up,” JJ says.

“Nice, right? My neighbour is a dick though. Always complaining that I leave my driveway light on in the middle of the night. As if I can even afford to that.”

JJ chuckles as he follows you inside. There’s an instant warm smell that hits him. JJ can’t seem to describe it in any other way than that it smells like you. The interior is safe and homely. The wallpaper and wooden floors pair nicely with the throw pillows and crystals and plants and flowers. Fairy lights are strung from end to end. A kitchen, open plan, feeds nicely into a sitting room. A dining table is tucked in the corner which seemingly functions more as a desk: books piled atop with sheets of paper strewn out. There’s a small corridor to the right and the walls are lined with framed pictures which JJ can’t make out from where he’s stood. He assumes it must lead to a bathroom and bedroom. It isn’t unlived in though. There’s a small pile of clothes which need ironing; they’re sat in a basket, next to the TV. Near the backdoor is an arts and crafts project of some kind strewn about on the floor in organised chaos, blocking the exit.

It's still early in the afternoon so you don’t bother flicking on a light, instead opting to soak in the last few hours of daylight before dusk. Kie used to compare you to a cat, basking in the sun and chasing the rays until there was none left to follow.

JJ closes the door behind him and leans against it.

“You can take your shoes off, if you want.”

“Alright,” he mumbles. He toes them off and kicks them to the side, amongst a pile of your own. He notices how there’s nobody else’s shoes there: just yours, and now his.

You pour out two glasses of orange juice and turn around, handing one to him. He takes it, lost in thought. It all feels surreal, stood here with you, after a five-year pause. When you go to the sofa to sit, he assumes he should follow. You sit on opposite ends. A part of him wonders why you haven’t stretched out your legs and dumped your feet in his lap. ‘These stink’, JJ jokes, poking your toes. You wiggle his fingers off. ‘Shut up, no they don’t.’ Force of habit: he always seems to get stuck on that past. Instead, you go to pull one of your legs up onto the sofa, and JJ flicks his eyes around the room another time. He sips his juice.

“So…” You start. “Any news?”

“Well, my dad died, so there’s that.”

You kick out your leg, aiming for his thigh. “Come on now. Be serious.”

“I am; you were at the funeral. Thought you might remember that,” JJ jokes.

Rolling your eyes mirthfully, you have a sip of your juice. The sun paints shapes on the coffee table, weaving through the thin curtains that line your window. It makes your skin glow, healthy and happy. He’s torn between staring at your face and remembering every detail of your features and avoiding you completely.

“When did you move in here? It’s nice.”

“About two years ago. Mom and dad are still at the old place. They’ve rented out my room though, for tourists and stuff.”

“That’s nice of them,” JJ snorts. “How’s your brother? Is he doing good?”

“He is. He’s at college actually. Graduates later this year.”

“The fuck? That’s so trippy,” JJ mumbles, almost to himself.

JJ can remember your brother as nothing more than a preteen, sulking around the house and begging for rides to soccer practice. Now he’s nearly got a whole ass degree. His eyes naturally fixate on the dining-table-come-desk in the corner.

“What do you do for work then?”

“I’m a teacher at Kildare high.”

Of course you are. JJ smiles, eyes still fixated on the table. It seems to prompt you to continue.

“It’s kinda weird sometimes cause some of the old farts still work there,” you say.

“Oh shit. Mr Rumble still there?” JJ asks, perking up a little, meeting your gaze.

You laugh. “Mr Rummel does still work there, yeah. Still likes to bring you up to me, actually.”

“Really? In what way?”

“Just likes to add the odd little ‘you remember when your boyfriend used to steal my stapler’ kinda things.”

JJ’s laugh is different this time. The word ‘boyfriend’ coming out of your mouth has his thoughts short circuiting. You glance down at your juice and swirl it around the cup.

“Anyway, it’s a pretty good gig. I like teaching, and I actually think I’m making a difference to some of these kids lives sometimes, which is sort of strange.”

“I bet you are. You were always good at helping people,” JJ tells you. Your smile turns soft.

“Thanks, JayJ.”

The nickname is like another sucker punch to the chest. JJ takes it like a champ. Washes it down with water; pretends there’s vodka in there somewhere.

“How are the others, then?” you ask. “How are they?”

“Good. Happy. John B and Sarah are expecting a kid soon.”

“Fuck off.”

“No joke,” JJ laughs. He leans back into the sofa, reclining in the soft throw pillows. It’s strange how easily relaxed he is in this new setting. “They’re debating between two names. Esmeralda or Eton.”

“No. Please God, tell me you’re joking.”

“I wish,” JJ snorts. “Not that I got much of a leg to stand on.”

“What do you mean?” you frown. You lean over and place your juice down on the coffee table.

“JJ? Kinda dumb name.” JJ has a sip of his own before mirroring your actions.

“Hardly. ‘John James’ is pretty proper sounding to me.”

“Meh.” JJ shrugs and props an arm up on the back of the sofa.

“What about Kie, and Pope?”

“Kie is on her environmentalist shit. Investing in rebuilding the coral and things. Pope is studying like crazy. Got a good job lined up too.”

“Only Pope would get a degree when he has literal gold in his savings,” you chuckle. “Didn’t you buy a shop too, or something?”

“A little surf shop with John B, yeah,” JJ nods, smiling proud. The surf shop is something that he would always take pride in. What felt like a pipedream was now his nine-to-five. “It’s doing real good, actually. We’re thinking about expanding.”

“Well, that’s good,” you say, nodding. The two of you lock eyes. Your smile holds steady. “I’m happy for you, JJ. Really.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’m glad you’re doing good, too.”

And now the polite small talk is over and the catch-up is done. It’s so bizarre seeing someone again after so long. So many things in life have passed – relationships, jobs, fights, conversations, achievements, ailments – but when you finally come to sum it up, it only takes ten minutes. Going through a heartbreak lasts for months, but then a year later and the relationship is summed up in a sentence or two. Time doesn’t only heal, but it also shrinks. It seems to have shrunk whatever used to exist between yourself and JJ too, as you both sit, searching for things to talk about which avoid the dark and ugly. Things which avoid the obvious.

“Do you think you’ll stick around in Kildare for a bit?”

“I don’t know. I ain't really thought about it,” JJ admits. “I weren't even sure if I was gonna go to the funeral.”

“Where are you staying tonight?” you wonder.

He laughs to himself and shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. “I have no idea. Probably just crash in my truck.”

“You’re loaded as fuck and you’re gonna crash in your truck?” you laugh. It isn’t mean when you say it. Just amused.  

“I don’t know. You don’t really get used to having money when you grew up without it. I still feel guilty buying a new pair of boots or something when my old ones ain't coming apart at the soles and shit.”

You nod. “That makes sense. Eminem had a similar thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve always thought me and Eminem were similar,” JJ deadpans.

It seems to strike well with you because you’re cracking up, laughing like he’s just told the best joke you’ve ever heard. He smiles. He always liked making you laugh. You have a horrendous laugh: truly awful. Cats in a bag being bashed against the wall-howling dog parade level of terrible. JJ loved it though. He used to tickle you just to hear it. Watching you now, head titled back, eyes shut and mouth agape, guffawing like a damn hyena…He feels like throwing up.

“Sorry, that…That was good,” you chuckle, wiping your eyes and catching your breath. “You were always good at making me laugh.”

“Fuck knows why,” JJ chuckles.

“Cause you’re funny,” you reply, as if its obvious. “You were always funny.”

It’s strange how the tone of the conversation rises and falls like a mountain range the longer the two of you sit on the sofa.

Your smile turns sombre, like when someone reminisces over a funny memory of their dead pet. Nice at first, amused, and then dampened with the reminder that those times have passed.

“It’s weird, to be honest. You’re so different now but you’re also still JJ.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” you sigh. You glance around the room for a moment, as if you’d find the answer hidden in code on the spine of the books stacked on the windowsill. You look at him again. “Your face looks different.”

“It does?” JJ asks. He lifts a hand and strokes his jaw. He could do with a shave, he supposes. The vanity tries to bite through to ask how, but before he can, you’re talking again.

“You don’t drink,” you add, nodding to the orange juice still sat on the coffee table. “You’re quieter. Less…”

You seem to lose the words and so you gesture with your hands. Explosion.

“Calmer. Sadder, but not sad.”

“I can’t tell if these are good things or not,” JJ says, half-joking.

“You look at me different too.”

That makes him pause. He meets your eyes and holds your gaze, steady. The whole room shifts in a moment, from carefree catch-up to tense confrontation.

��Different?”

“Yeah. You look at me different.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” JJ mutters, going to reach for his drink.

“Yes, you do, JJ.”

Your smile is gone now. He can tell, catching it from his peripheral. Suddenly he doesn’t want to be here. Doesn’t want to be in Kildare, doesn’t want to be in this house, in this room.

“You could at least acknowledge it, you know?”

“I don’t understand—”

“It’s actually more rude to not acknowledge it,” you snip.

“I’m not being rude, I’m just making conversation. You’re the one who’s got me on blast like you’re some God damn therapist,” JJ hits back, meeting your steely stare.

“You feel like you’re on blast?”

“I feel like I’m being observed, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Maybe you are. Maybe you are being observed, JJ,” you return, voice harsh and cutting like how a blade slices through paper. “Because it’s fucking weird having you back.”

“You’re the one that invited me here.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” you say.

JJ takes a breath and closes his eyes. The anger never went away, despite what you’ve just told him, he just got older. Got better at hiding it. Got enough money to try therapy. He takes another moment to breathe through it. Push it down his throat and back into his stomach and let it burn out in the acid.

“I’m sorry,” you quietly say. The venom is gone. “I shouldn’t have…I’m sorry.”

He isn’t sure why – can’t pinpoint a perfect reason behind it – but behind his eyelids, JJ feels tears swell. Feels his lips twitch like a child when they hit their funny bone. His next breath in is shaky.

“JJ?”

“Just…”

His voice cracks and he clears it, shaking his head. He wants to open his eyes but he’s scared he’ll start crying, and he’s not doing that, not right now, not today. It’s not even you. You’d seen him cry before. Held him through it and patched him up; made him smile after the sadness. But he refuses to cry today because he can’t give his dad that satisfaction, even if it’s not about him. Opening his eyes, no tears escape. He reaches for the juice and downs it.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that,” he snaps. Then, softer, “please.”

You nod. There’s a quiet. Then, you move to stand and he closes his eyes again because it’s a struggle for you to stand. It’s a struggle. He rubs a hand over his mouth as if trying to shove the welling emotions back inside. There’s the sound of running water in the background as JJ tries to gather himself. The crack-crack-crack of a gas stove turning on and then the clink of metal on metal. You’ve put the kettle on, boiling water. There’s the tinker of porcelain mugs being taken off a stand. He seems to zone in on the peaceful sounds of you making coffee.

When you pour water into the mugs, he remembers the sound of your voice years back. ‘Did you know humans have the ability to hear the difference between hot and cold water being poured?’ ‘Why the fuck do you know that?’ ‘I don’t know. Just thought it was interesting.’

As the teaspoon repeatedly brushes against the inside of the cup as you stir in the instant coffee and milk, JJ finally feels all the emotions even out. As your footsteps make their way back over to him, you flick on the lamp by the front door. JJ opens his eyes to see you place a steaming cup of Joe in front of him on the coffee table. The mug is cute. It’s peach pink and says “I’m drinking tea instead of committing crimes” on the front in an innocent type-writer print.

“Cute mug.”

“Thanks. Thought of you.”

He silently laughs. You sit closer to him this time and your mug sits next to his. There’s no funny quote written across the paint. Then your hand is on his back, barely rubbing him, and it hits JJ that this is the first time you’ve touched him in five years.

“I shouldn’t have gotten so angry,” you tell him. “It ain’t my place to say any of that. Especially not today.”

“It’s true, though. That’s the kicker, ain’t it? That it’s true,” JJ replies.

He sighs and leans back, sitting upright once more. Your hand falls away and you clasp it in the other in your lap. He glances down and takes in your side profile. That stupid piece of hair has come lose again, fallen in your face. He distracts his twitching fingers by twisting one of his rings.

“I’m okay, you know,” you tell him. You look up and meet his eyes. Yours are damp with emotion, just like his were moments earlier. “I’m really okay.”

“You almost weren’t though.”

“Is that the problem? That I almost wasn’t?”

“It’s not the problem. You were never a problem.”

“I ain't mean it like that,” you tell him. You shake your head and JJ isn’t entirely sure why. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Am I the reason that you left Kildare?”

A bird calls outside and JJ seems to latch onto it like a lifeline. That question makes him feel stranded and scared. He wasn’t ready for it despite being fully prepared.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

“I…It ain't that simple.”

“Can you explain it to me, maybe?” you wonder. There’s no wrath to your tone anymore – no vendetta against him. There’s just curiosity and care, and this wonderful tenderness that JJ always associated with you from day one, when you offered him your cap to keep his hair off his face.

“I didn’t like the person I was in Kildare.”

“Okay,” you quietly say.

“I didn’t like how I acted. I didn’t like how reckless I was, and how I didn’t care who got hurt in the process.”

“Like me?”

JJ swallows. He doesn’t tear his eyes from yours though. “Yeah. Like you.”

“Okay,” you repeat, quieter still, nodding.

“After El Dorado, coming back here, everything felt tainted. I just…I needed to escape it. My dad and my past and…And you. I couldn’t face it. I felt like I’d caused some freak accident and had gotten away, and then I'd come back to face the aftermath and I just couldn’t stomach it. I just ran.”

You nod.

“I just ran,” he hears himself repeat. “And I’m not proud of it. Of any of it.”

“Okay.”

“And I wanted to fix things, but I didn’t know how. Every time I thought of coming back to Kildare, or picking up the phone, or going on Instagram and finding you…I just got so fucking scared, like a stupid shithead kid. I was so scared of becoming the guy I was again.”

And, again, you nod. When he doesn’t continue, you fill the space. “How long have you been sober?”

“The minute I left Kildare.”

“Fuck.”

“Cold turkey. It sucked ass. It still does. You don’t miss it any less. I miss the rage too, sometimes. I miss my dad sometimes, too. Miss him beating on me. How fucked up is that? That I miss him beating on me?”

You don’t seem to know what to say to that. You just look down at the coffee mugs and watch how the steam is slowly but surely going away.

“I am sorry. I know that ain't worth anything, but I am sorry.”

“It is worth something.” You clear your throat, voice coming out stronger when you say, “It’s worth everything.”

Your smile comes back, timid and tiny. You meet eyes for the millionth time that night.

“It feels like I’ve been ready for you to come back, for so long, and now you’re actually here and…I don’t even know where to start.” He watches your tongue dart out and wet your lips. “I wasn’t expecting you to look so good.”

“Disappointed?”

“Massively. I would have got my ass in the gym more if I knew it was a Goddamn competition.”

JJ smiles. “You were always a sore loser.”

“Says you,” you snort.

There’s another peak in the conversation after the long slug of the last dip. It’s so bizarre. So wonderfully bizarre.

“I’m proud of you, for getting sober. Do you feel better for it?”

“Depends.”

“Well, you look better for it,” you say.

“You’re drooling, I think,” JJ teases, reaching a finger out to prod your cheek.

Rolling your eyes, you mirthfully bat his hand away. “You’re hallucinating.”

“Well, withdrawal does crazy things,” he quips back.

You chuckle and shake your head. “I missed you like crazy.”

“I miss you too.”

Your lips part a little with that. Miss. You seem to hesitate to hold his gaze then, like it’s too intense. JJ feels as though he can see every emotion flash across your face in a second, like watching a car crash in slow motion. Surprise, shock, joy, anger, then sadness. It’s that sadness that hammers hard when you speak, voice weak.

“You left without saying anything, JJ. For five years. You just left me.”

“Don’t make it sound like that. Like I abandoned you.”

“But you did,” you whisper. The tears are back. You’ve both fallen from the top of the mountain. “You abandoned me.”

“You don’t get it,” JJ replies, voice suddenly thick.

“I was in it with you.”

“You didn’t see it,” JJ forces out. His tears are falling: they didn’t wait this time. “You didn’t see how it looked – how you looked. You looked so fucking fragile and tiny and small and your leg was so bent and twisted and black – it was black – and I thought you were already dead.”

Your breathing is shaky and broken. The two of you sit on your sofa in the sunset, eyes locked, tears streaming, chests heaving like you’ve run a marathon. The word ‘dead’ hangs in the air and haunts the room.

“I thought you were dead, and I thought it was because of me.”

“Do you hate me for it?”

“Why the fuck would I—”

“Because I didn’t die? Do you hate me for it?”

JJ blinks back his bewilderment. He physically shifts back in his seat, as if you just spat in his face. Horrified, he tells you, “Of course I don’t. Why would you even ask me that?”

“Because I’m still here, JJ. But you acted like I wasn’t for five years. You didn’t even come see me in the hospital. Didn’t sit with me in the ambulance. Hell, you can’t even look at my leg now! You think I didn’t notice? At the graveyard, and now. You think I can’t see it on your face?”

JJ whispers your name in a tearful plea. Stop.

“I’m still here, JJ. And I invited you back here, and I went to the funeral, because I wanted to see you.”

“To show me what I did?” JJ asks, harsher than needed.

You hold his gaze. “To show you I’m okay.”

He shakes his head, insistent. “It was my fault. If I hadn’t been drinking and if I’d been thinking straight, I would have never let you jump off the bike like that. It was fucking reckless and stupid and I would never, ever do it again. It was all my fault.”

“I don’t care who’s fault it was, JJ,” you whisper. Your hand reaches out and traces his cheek and jaw, and he can’t help but lean into your warm touch. There you sit, cradling his face as if he was the victim in this whole thing. It calms him almost immediately. “Nobody forced me on that bike. Nobody forced me to jump, not even you.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.”

“JJ,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes as you shift in your spot, and somehow you end up with your forehead pressed against his. He reaches out one of his hands for the other of yours that rests in your lap and he clenches it, tight. You’re both still crying but they’re silent tears now.

“I forgive you, JJ.”

He shakes his head whilst you nod.

“Yes, I do, I forgive you. I always have. You know why?”

He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

“Because you were dealt the shitest hand I’ve ever known and look who you are. You’re sober, and you're healthy, and you have loving friends and a steady income and a job which you love, and a boathouse, and so much of your life left. And you didn’t kill anyone. You didn’t kill me, JJ. You didn’t even lose me.”

“I don’t—”

“We’re more than our mistakes.”

When JJ opens his eyes, you pull back enough to let him meet your gaze. As if you know what he’s about to ask, you smile. That smile…JJ feels like he’s coming home.

“You’re more than your mistakes, JJ.”

The moment his lips slot against yours, tentative and hesitant, like a bird exploring new ground for the first time, he’s home. There’s hardly a moment of reluctance, of confusion and mismatch from the time passed, before you’re kissing him back. The softness of your lips against his and the brush of your tongue. The sigh in your voice and the tilt of your head. It’s so seamless and sweet and safe. JJ feels safe here, with you. He feels like all the shit doesn’t matter. He feels like sober might actually be synonymous with happiness, with you. When he lies you down on the sofa, JJ doesn’t want to leave this room, this house, or Kildare. He wants to stay here, worshipping you, breathing you in until you consume all of his senses, because after five years, nothing has made him feel as alive as this. As you.

Everything is a wonderful illusion of being rushed and well-paced all at once. He revels in the way your skin gives gently beneath the scrape of his teeth. When he sucks at your throat, the skin is so delicate, and this close to you JJ can smell nothing but your perfume. He wants to fucking drown in it.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he pants. You’re gasping too. Fingers sliding through his hair, down his sides, along his face.

“I missed you,” you whine.

And that phrase gets repeated over and over like a mantra or a prayer. He hears himself whispering it against your skin with every button he undoes on your blouse. Basks in the sound of your voice, older and mature but still you, as you say it whilst pushing his dress shirt off his shoulder.

There’s a stalling pause when his fingers finish tracing down your stomach to your pants. You seem to notice it. Your hand comes to his face and thumbs at his cheek. They’re still sticky from dried tears.

“JJ,” you whisper, coaxing his attention back to your face. You’re glowing. You’re happy, you’re healthy, and you’re here. “It’s okay.” Nodding, you repeat. “It’s okay.”

Then, he watches your own fingers land on the button of your pants, slowly undoing it. Then the other and the third until they’re lose. He watches you wriggle out of them, pulling them down, struggling somewhat from the tight position on the sofa. Watches the scars emerge, faint but clear, and how they grow and spread like ivy on the side of a house. They merge with the cellulite and stretch marks. With a random bruise you must’ve gotten from hitting your leg on the table the other day. They’re a part of you – plain and simple. At the knee, there’s the connection for your prosthetic right leg. Once your trousers are off, JJ finds himself reaching out to touch it. This thing that he was partly responsible for, this marvel of medicine, the reason you can walk. He loves it and hates it desperately all at once. Glancing back up to your face, you’re watching him just as carefully as he was watching you. But you’re smiling.

“You’re okay,” JJ finds himself saying quietly. Because you are. You’re here, laying almost bare before him, just like you had years before.

“It’s rude to make a girl wait, JJ,” you tease.

With that, JJ’s smile is blossoming back like the returning of spring flowers following a brutal winter. He leans forward and catches himself above you with his arms, kissing you like you’re all the oxygen in the world. Your left leg rubs at his calf, still covered by his trousers, and you giggle against his mouth.

“Fuck, I missed this,” you say. “I missed you.”

“How much?”

“So much,” you say.

“Oh yeah? What’d you miss?” JJ persists, kissing down your neck.

“Your mouth,” you say through a moan. His hands slip behind your back and unclasp your bra. You arch your back enough for him to tug it off.

“My mouth?” he wonders, breathing it against your skin. You’re practically writhing. JJ laughs. “What about my mouth?”

“Don’t be a jackass, JJ,” you mutter.

“You want my mouth?”

“Yes,” you quietly beg.

“You do?” he checks, kissing over your breast, sucking at your nipple. “Where do you want it?”

“You fucking know where,” you sigh, impatience shining through.

He grins at the sudden hitch of your moan as he softly nips at the sensitive skin around your nipple. Then he’s kissing down your stomach until finally his fingers hook into the sides of your panties. He slowly, tauntingly, pulls them down. You kick them off at the ankles, a clear act of frustration, and he bites back his laugh.

“What? Here?” JJ plants a kiss to your hipbone. “You want my mouth here? Or…”

Another kiss, to your pelvic bone.

“Here?”

“Fuck you, Maybank.”

“You wanna?”

“I swear to fucking God,” you huff, laughing through the annoyance.

With that, JJ settles himself between your legs and praises you like you deserve to be. The noises you make are downright evil, considering he can do nothing about it and has to hold it together. You taste so familiar on his tongue.

“Fucking missed you,” he groans against you.

When he sucks on your clit, your hands latch into his hair. Your back is arching and you’re gasping and panting and desperate, and JJ feels like a young God. Pulling back, he slips a finger into your hole and it welcomes him so easily. He cusses at how wet you are.

“Come on baby. Come on, I know you’re close.”

The tells of your body haven’t changed since the last time you two were in this position. The way your mouth hangs open in a silent moan when you fall over the edge is so surreal to see after five years apart. He feels you spasms around him and basks in the scratch of your nails against his scalp as you try to ground yourself. He hardly has time to suck his fingers clean before your pulling his mouth to yours and kissing him stupid.

“Fucking missed you,” you repeat against his mouth, making him laugh. “Nobody fucks me as good as you.”

“Jesus Christ, you can’t say shit like that,” JJ chuckles. “Won’t last.”

“Don’t care,” you say. “Only thing bigger than your ego is your dick.”

JJ can’t help but laugh at that. He loves your giggles in response. And then your hands are shoving at his trousers and the humour is gone, replaced with nothing but raw lust and desperation. There’s nothing performative about it, when the two of you hurry to strip his clothes away as soon as possible. He takes note to get his socks off. You’d always had a weird thing about it, sex in socks, and nothing was going to taint this night. Not after so long.

Being inside you…JJ missed it more than all the alcohol and weed in the world. Nothing compared to the feeling of you clenching around him. The vice of your leg hitched up and over his back as he grips into your thigh, mean and firm, perfecting the angle. The senseless, endless whines falling from your agape mouth, eyes closed tight, lost in the feeling of it. JJ wants nothing to be less than perfect for you, for this. Every stroke, every kiss, every clench of his fingers…it all has to be perfect. He knows when you’re close and he’s more than fucking relieved. It’s taking everything in him not to come. He needs you to fall over the edge first.

“Do the thing,” you whine. “Do the thing, John.”

With that, JJ remembers five years back, to late nights and later mornings spent rolling in bed with you. He bites into his lip, holding back his shit-eating grin as the memories flood back, and he leans forward to your ear. Gently taking the lobe within his teeth, he croons into the shell of your ear.

“That’s my good fucking girl.”

And finally, you fall apart, taking JJ with you like you always would.

When the high finally passes and the endorphins settle down, the two of you are laying on the sofa, only covered by a throw blanket JJ had dragged down from the back of the sofa. You’ve somehow shuffled so you’re laying mostly atop of him. His arms are locked around your damp stomach like a vice, nose nestled into your hair, just behind your ear, breathing you in with every inhale.

“Will you stay in Kildare, just for a short while? For me?”

JJ wants to laugh but he knows how wrong that would be in this moment. The humour doesn’t come from the question, but from the notion that he’d leave after finally having you back in his life, safe and happy, after five long years.

“Anything,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against your hair. Anything for you.

-

“You look like shit by the way,” JJ says.

His hands are warm in his cargo pant pockets. Head tilted down and gaze steady, he sighs.

“Guess you didn’t have chance to clean up though, right?”

Shockingly, the gravestone says nothing back. Well, says nothing asides form Luke Maybank in barely legible font.

It still feels surreal, that his dad is gone. That they’d never remedy anything, or even attempt to fix their relationship. That JJ wouldn’t be able to face him and show him what he’d become. How he’d risen past it all and grown from the pain and the agony. That he’d taken the shitty hand that he was dealt and turned it into nothing but flushes and full houses. That he hadn’t grown into a petty criminal or a tax-evading lowlife, but a strong, good-willed, well-intentioned man. The thought, bittersweet at heart, makes him smile.

“I’m happy dad. I know you probably hate that, being dead and all, but I am.”

As if on cue, there’s the high pitch giggles from afar that catch JJ’s attention. He glances over to spot you and your wonderful mini-you, sitting on your shoulders, waving at him. He waves back, small and short, smiling.

“I’m glad you never met her,” JJ tells his dad, never tearing his eyes away from the pair of you. You ease her off your shoulders and take her hand, pointing to a small bed of daffodils. “I was so scared I’d be bad at this. I was so scared that I’d be like you.”

She’s so fragile as she picks a flower free from the bunch, holding it by the stem, up to you. You nod and presumably smile in approval.

“But I’ll never be like you. She’ll never know what it feels like to live in fear,” JJ states, firmly. He looks back down to the grave. “I’m not your mistakes, and I’m not mine.”

He lowers to a squat and wipes some of the dirt off the stone, revealing the dates. “Happy birthday, dad. You suck, and I hope you’re finally at peace.”

“Daddy, daddy…”

There’s an insistent tug at his jacket sleeve. JJ smiles and looks down at the best mistake he ever made. Mistake is a strong word. ‘Oops, I think is better’, you’d said when you first showed him the pregnancy test.

“What’s up, bub?”

“I found this flower. Can I give it to papa?”

JJ takes the daffodil and glances to the grave. A brief moment of anger passes over him like the breeze of winter. He doesn’t deserve this. He isn’t your papa. I’m glad he’s dead. But he closes his eyes and breathes. Your hand squeezing gently at his shoulder tells him you’re there. It helps ground him.

“Yeah, bub. I think that’d be nice,” he smiles, handing it back.

She giggles as she puts it on the grass just before the stone. Her laughter is brighter and louder still when JJ scoops her up as he stands, looping her around him until she’s a backpack.

“You wanna get ice cream?”

“Hell yeah,” you whoop.

“Hell yeah!” mini-you copies. JJ laughs.

“Alrighty, lets go.”

As the three of you make the small walk back to the car, you intertwine your fingers with JJ’s, holding his hand tight and secure. JJ takes one last glance back at the gravestone. It all began here, in a way, the re-introduction to a life he thought he’d lost. Perhaps the nicest thing JJ’s dad ever did, the kindest act he ever performed, was dying. Perhaps that was his way of paying him back for all the crap he gave.

“Hey.”

JJ glances down at you.

“You okay?”

He smiles. Then, he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

Everything is going to be okay.

[diejager]

hi i love your work so much omg

…what do you think of the scenario of monster!141 x (platonic, if you want, it’s probably for the better) reader that’s made up of thousands of worms/spiders/or whatever creatures. reader is always covered up in clothes that cover up the entire ‘skin’ and they speak extremely weirdly/like everything’s speaking all at once and the voice is just sounding from the mouth but also in the torso? and legs? . the thing is that reader is shy or something and doesn’t want to admit that they’re just a hive mind of creatures, but it’s just kinda obvious not really (well obvious to monster 141). 141 doesn’t really want to comment on it because they’re just nice like that and find ways to help Reader get through some situations lmao (help i’m sleep deprived and i made this thought in 3 AM ish).

i give you a piece of 🧀

Many

Pairing: Platonic Monster 141 + König & Horangi x monster!reader

Cw: spiders, blood, military inaccuracies, canon-typical violence, cannibalism? Eating human, hive mind monster, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.9k (A/N): I’m gonna be honest with y’a, I went on a spree and completely forgot what you first asked for but uh… I used some of your ideas and I hope it’s apparent enough?

For someone as decorated as you were, you were awfully timid, shying from human and hybrid interaction like a plague. Perhaps it was unintentional, the stiffness in your shoulders or the constant coverage, but to the world around you, you were nothing but an awkward person whose social cues were lost to time after more than a decade in the force. Starting your days covered head to toe, black over more black, or khaki and brown over more khaki and brown depending on the situation of your stay and deployment. 

Despite your social anxiety, your voice stayed strong and unwavering in the field, a cold, monotone voice that would coordinate the team if needed —you were a prolific intelligence specialist, that found your calling in intelligence gathering from the deepest and darkest pits, and an infiltration specialist that was sought out for your proficiency and successful operations worldwide, especially the undercover Ops done in secrecy. You’ve led a few clandestine Ops with Laswell for 141, the Station Chief letting you lead and direct them, trusting your insights and they always resulted in successful missions, coming back bruised and battered but alive and securing the cargo (or whatever they were sent there for). 

That meant that they knew you, your voice, your confident tone when you directed them, your unwavering decisions and your helpful guidance, but they hadn’t seen you until a few months ago. You were officially assigned to Task Force 141 as their Intelligence and Infiltration specialist, working on and off. This would be the first time you actively moved to the front, standing beside them during infiltrations, slipping into the enemy base with efficiency and silence. You moved as if you were a part of the shadows, melting into the darkness and disappearing from any camera and scans, your body invincible to infrared cameras or heat sensors. 

You moved with fluid motions, your body incredibly - scarily - flexible and seemingly aware of everything around you. To humans, you were probably the most skillful and abnormal human, born with talents that far rivalled those of hybrids, and a saviour to some for being able to keep them alive even through the hardest moments of their capture; but to monsters, to hybrids, you were special, a different type of creature that held a different category in the classes, one that humans knew little outside of the government and military. 

Whereas humans saw you as a stiff and socially awkward human that covered their whole body, TF141 knew better, they could sense it a mile away, the difference in you, the odd aura and smell you projected. Soap and König had mentioned it in the past, in the bustling Mess hall where they shared a table, Soap had noted that you smelled off, of something dead yet alive and König only brought the oddness of you holding thousands of different scents, musks that didn’t originate from one place, but from around the world. 

Gaz and Horangi gave off-handed comments about sudden movement under your clothes, a slight - near invisible - ripple under your neck or on your arm, their eyes zoning to the smallest of movements. Gaz brought it up first, his voice hesitant and confused, frowning down at his plate when he mentioned it to the others, only to feel reassured that he wasn’t imagining it, the small ripple that no one else perceived, when Horangi shared his own observations. Horangi had seen small black spots moving over your shirt and under the tight mask hiding your face, tiny-legged creatures climbing over you and vanishing under your clothes as if they were never there. 

Rudy was the best at understanding people, sympathising with both monsters and humans, but you just seemed lost, a shy creature that always hid from others when you weren’t needed. He and Alejandro remembered when they spoke to you after an Op, catching up to you before you fled to hide in your room, your tone was soft and shy, but it seemed to come from everywhere, never staying in one place as if there wasn’t a source to your voice. One moment your voice would come from your face, and then the next, it’d be down your abdomen, every word you spoke came out of a different area, but your chin never moved, face still and unmoving. 

They brought it up to Ghost, who’d sit with them at their table, pushed against the wall for privacy around human soldiers, since he - leaving out Price - knew you best, having worked with you a few times in the past where they needed your expertise in infiltration and hostage securing. They had hoped that Ghost could give them a few insights on you, whether it be about your kind or your uniqueness, they wanted something - anything - to quell their growing curiosity. Not only was Ghost one of their only sources of information, but he was also a paranoid one, always demanding an operator's file before and after they joined, his mind going through loops to calculate the danger of the new addition. Ghost was a guarded and walled-up character, ensuring that they wouldn’t betray him in the long run.

Unfortunately, Ghost knew as little as they did, Price was stricter with your information, keeping it under a hard lock and key. Only he and Laswell held information about you, your little quirks and details were a secret to anyone who wasn’t in the higher-ranked stations or the commanding rank and station chief. They had nothing to go on but theories, little hypothesis until Price or Laswell - whichever caved first to their incessant pleading - disclosed your personal file. So they did what they could with their observations, combining up with different monsters they’ve crossed paths with. You could’ve been one of those crossbred hybrids where they coupled for specific perks, or an experiment, seeing that you had an aversion to physical touch and human interactions. The least possible one, by far, was that you were an Eldritch being, a creature of horror and madness. 

“Classified for now, sergeant,” was all Price had told Soap when he cracked, his puppy-like excitement getting the best of him. “You’ll have to ask them, yeah?”

That left them with little to no choice but to watch you more closely, to observe their surroundings for any clues and to note anything bizarre since they couldn’t necessarily outright ask you. You fled seconds after anyone tried to start a conversation, head down and feet moving too swiftly to not seem like you were avoiding them or any long discussion as if you knew what they were planning. You seemed to have eyes at the back of your head, reacting instantly when one of them would follow you wherever you went, slinking from one shadow to the other, trying their best to hide from your sight and sense, but you were an expert in your own right, knowing and aware of undercover tactics when one was used against you.

Fortunately for them, other clues helped, subtle signs that most people wouldn’t even catch. The first one was small, jerky spiders that weren’t local to the UK or any continent, they weren’t like any arachnid they’d ever found, that was the first thing they noticed when they came across one, but the true challenge was to catch one of those pesky things. They were quick and small, evading them as if they had a mind of their own, their bites painful if one of them tried to grab it with a hand, the tiny fangs piercing through the thick material of their gloves, but once Soap got his paws on one, he made sure to keep it in the glass container. The spider was small, its exoskeleton so dark that it seemed to swallow any light rather than reflect it, a shade of black so black that it didn’t let any colours out. It didn’t look hairy, the shell so smooth and spotless that it seemed like two circles if they ignored the scrawny legs. 

Those spiders were almost everywhere, yet they went unnoticed by the people walking around the base and them until now. Other than the spiders, your aversion to physical contact and socialising, and favouring your privacy much more than anyone on the TF. You didn’t eat with them —you never seemed to eat at all. Your voice moved so often that the possibility of you having many mouths came to mind a lot. Your body was extremely nimble, bending in odd - sometimes painful for others - ways. Over other observations, everything they took notice of you were things that were inhuman, it made you a minority in the military - much like them - and a mystery to your team. 

They went on for months, unbothered that they might have seemed slightly obsessive, a stalker following his obsession. They weren’t worried about others calling them out, humans would chalk it up to monster stuff with a sneer and look the other way when Ghost or König glared at them. That didn’t escape you, Price or even Laswell’s eyes and ears around the world. 

“You boys don’t know when to stop, hmm?” Price wore a frown, brows cocked questioningly. His tone was one of a tired and relenting to their months-long search. “You’re lucky they weren’t mad about this.”

“So you’ll tell us, boss?” Ghost hid his excitement better than the rest, his chest rumbling lowly and eyes narrowed darkly, but not with a dangerous gleam. 

“Better if you see it yourself,” he sighed, crossing his arms, hunching against his chair, lip quirking at a corner. It was a cheeky lopsided smile, teasing them with having to wait longer. “It’s hard to explain in words. It’s quite the sight.”

And a sight it was! Watching you melt to the ground, your body scattering in thousands of small spiders that moved towards the body lying before you. You’d been paired with Ghost and Soap for this Op, leading them down a path you knew didn’t have any hostiles, getting intel back from the many spiders scattered around the area. They were the first to watch you eat, arachnids swallowing up the bodies, devouring them at record speed. You ate flesh and bones, ligaments and tendons melted by your acidic bite that only left clothes behind as an indication that someone died here. They were the lucky ones to see you eat, to bear witness to your monstrosity in the flesh and your moment of weakness where you had to sustain yourself, shedding off the shape of a human body.

It left Soap filled with awe, seeing you break away in thousands of individual bodies and come back together as one, and Ghost’s mind strewed with questions, some answered when you told them that you were self-conscious, a hive mind made up of spiders to form a body. You weren’t hiding away because you were afraid of them or that you hated socialising, you were simply too self-aware of your making, of the natural fear of eight-legged creatures. So you hid, shying away from people, thinking that they’d hate you for being what you were, a colony of undocumented spiders working as one. 

Horangi, Rudy and Alejandro caught you in action on the second covert operation when you were given the signal to lead your small squad into enemy lines. They watched the clothes you wore ripple, little critters bulging out from under your protective gear and rolling down your body in waves, black masses dropping off and separating. You were spread around the place, everyone acting as an extension of your mind and body, and they were —thousands of spiders sharing one mind. You shrank lightly, your body mass lower than it was with your body spanned across the area, working as your eyes and ears from afar like cameras worked for Laswell, except that your reach was farther and more potent. 

It was expected, but not less surprising to the three, watching your body shorten and little spiders crawl all over you. It would’ve made the hardiest monster shudder in fear or repulsion, feeling hundreds of legs moving about over their body, it would’ve made them slightly apprehensive, knowing from Soap and Ghost that your bite could be acidic, melting tough muscle and robust bone. It made more sense as to why you were so nimble and so observant, you had parts of yourself scattered around, working to map out everything and see everything. You were what made you so sought after for your skills in clandestine missions and covert infiltrations, it was scarily inspiring.

Gaz and König were the unlucky ones, being in the wrong place at the wrong time to see you “die”. With how unlucky his streak with helicopters was, it wasn’t a surprise that he was falling from another one, his wing bleeding from a bullet wound, the copper piercing through the meat and grazing the bone. It had him handicapped for the next few missions, staying on base until it healed completely unless he wanted to cause a bigger issue with his third pair of limbs. You were medevaced, watching Gaz grunt and groan, holding his wounded wing against his chest with a face screwed in pain. He’d been in an unfortunate situation, being purposely targeted by the enemy, and the situation couldn’t get any worse. 

The helicopter was shot down, and the flares deployed too late to stop the missile. It was a fiery mess, there was screaming and the loud crack of metal breaking, you could hear Laswell yell out in the coms, her worried and frantic voice trying to reach you and Gaz in the falling blaze. Most harpies feared fire, the flames burning their feathers and scarring the skin, making it impossible to regrow feathers on some rare occurrences. Gaz couldn’t remember much after the fall, waking up in pitch darkness, his skin crawling with shivers and invisible hands. He couldn’t make out left from right, he didn’t know if he was lying face down or on his back, and he wasn’t even sure he was conscious, seeing that all he could see was black. Then he felt sudden movement, a prickly sensation covering his body until light broke through.

He could feel his arms and his legs, he could stretch his wing out when he sat up, he wasn’t burned or hurt more than what he had before the crash, but he couldn’t see you when he looked around. He palmed the ground, feeling around the rough floor for you, your small, black spiders. You were on and around him, slowly climbing off him and flocking to a large mass. Your clothes were gone, burned to ashes in the mess while you shielded him, taking the brunt of the heat and burns. He swallowed down the quake that wracked his body and rushed to you, frantic to see whether or not you were in pain. Rather than forming back into a human, your appearance resembles more of a large mammal on four, clawed legs. Seeing that you were fine - or so he thought - he called back for evac, getting cover with your prone figure guarding him until the other helicopter and support came back.

König’s accident was more vicious than Gaz’s, losing control of his urges, letting himself shift and rampage through the area, ripping apart both enemy and ally. You were another body in his path, his claws tearing through your chest with sharp, bloodied hands. The others panicked, watching you scatter into pieces, falling apart from the seams as if someone had pulled out the only string that held you together. Instead of blood and guts, intestines that should’ve called out in a bloody mess, you broke apart, some fell to the ground, crushed under König’s weight, and others clung to him, swarming to stop him before he caused more chaos. 

It looked like a futile attempt from outside viewpoints, watching the beast stumble blindly, his face covered, your thousand pairs of legs locked to keep his mouth closed from causing more harm to others with his serrated teeth made to gnaw through bone and break flesh and muscle to consume and feed his big appetite. They could only stare at König trash around, limbs slowly being locked together, bounding his arms from flailing and slashing at people and his leg from blindly ambling and rushing towards his next victim. You rippled around König, a mass becoming a full-body restraint containing the hybrid’s grunts and growls, unmoving and unrelenting against him. 

You kept König’s rampage in check, keeping him contained while they moved both you and him to the aircraft and back to base where they could wait out the shift, the burst of rage in the hybrid. Gaz had thrown you a bundle of clothes after König fell asleep, you slipped off and crawled to your clothes, reappearing in a human shape under all your protective layers. Although they knew you could take extensive damage and survive unscathed, they still worried, would your strength still held together with a chaotic mix of human resilience and percht invulnerability.

You seemed to have let yourself go a bit, letting Soap or Gaz drag you around the base, letting Rudy and Alejandro strike up a conversation, letting Ghost or König sit with you in silence, and letting Horangi get the jump on you and follow you soundlessly because he was curious (and answering his questions). You might not eat with them, but you swallowed down your fright and agreed to sit at their table while they ate, digging into their preferred meal and occasionally replying to their friendly banter. You were still nervous about spending so much time in public, the looming fear of being faced with disgust from your allies was still possible, but you - with the supporting pat on the shoulder from Price - worked through your storming thoughts and insecurities. 

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

[konigseyess]

why are people constantly sleeping on Konig's submissive side? he's a 6'9 foot killing machine yes, but he's also a tiny good boy who'd love to be on his knees and worshiping you

I feel this in my heart

Content warnings: smut +18 (minors pls dni!), oral sex (female and male receiving), unprotected sex (p in v)

You just know König would love to come home to you late at night, go upstairs and climb onto the bed with his gear still on while you’re sleeping, and just shower you with kisses and without being able to stop himself from running his gloved hand over your body. Asking you if you’re okay, if you need anything.

He’d be begging for your touch so bad, feeling terrible that he’d wake you up but also hungry and deprived from you for so many hours or sometimes even days if he’d been on a mission.

I’m pretty sure he’d whisper your name in your ear between deep kisses in an attempt to wake you up, pleading to give him attention.

As soon as he’d get your attention he’d go full puppy dog eyes mode, begging you to sit on his face so he could make you feel good again. He’d pull up his mask just to reveal his mouth and tell you to put on your full body weight on top of him, fully sitting on his face. That’s the only way he’d enjoy it. He’d also grab both your thighs in between his arms so you had nowhere to go, fully secured in that position. You’d moan his name and he’d go fucking crazy over your voice. A LOT OF EYE CONTACT.

After taking care of you, mouth filled with your juices and panting, he’d beg you to take him out of his gear and whispering profanities as soon as your hands touched him in any way. He’d be such a baby about it, grunting and moaning your name whenever he had the chance.

Being only fair that you’d return the favour (not like you wouldn’t want to) you’d wrap your mouth around his length and he’d go crazy. König wouldn’t be shy about using his words, moaning praise words and phrases of encouragement like “feels so fucking good”, “how did I get this lucky?”, “Ich liebe dich so sehr” (“I love you so much”), “perfect mouth”. He’d run one of his hands down your back, and the other would grab your hair in a ponytail between his fingers. Again, a lot of eye contact as he’d watch your eyes look up at his from below every once in a while. He’d cum inside your mouth and you’d sit on his lap, demand him to kiss you so he could taste himself. He’d do it every single time without complaining.

He’d beg you to tie his hands behind his back while you took a ride. You knew he could get out anytime he wanted to, he has the strength for it, but he would never. After sitting on his length he would move his his hips upwards in hopes of getting closer to you, and in response you’d push him down the mattress so he’d stay still. Once again, you knew your strength didn’t match his, but you found incredibly attractive the fact that he would let you think so. He’d feel your hands apply pressure on his shoulders downwards and he’d stop his movements so you could take charge.

König would absolutely not be afraid to make noise. He’d pant and moan his way through his pleasure as he’d feel your walls wrapped around his cock. The room would be filled with his low voice, increasing as he would help you reach your second orgasm of the night. “You’re so pretty, Liebchen.”, “Fucking perfect, mein Engel.” would spill out of his mouth like warm honey while he watched you without blinking, as you rode your orgasm on top of him.

You’d help him get his high, bouncing faster on his length as you’d watch his mouth fall open, head thrown back, eyes on the ceiling, limbs numb. You’d grab his face in your hand, pushing it down so you could kiss him once again, letting him focus on your eyes again, telling him to cum inside you. His eyes would not avert from yours. If this were a staring contest, König would always win. The way he would look at you, his eyes filled with lust as his release would fill you up.

He’d also just want to stay inside you for hours if you let him, feeling the comfort of your wetness and warmth.

[pannman]

Sleeping Together

Platonic!Lucifer x fennec fox Reader, slight platonic! Angel Dust x reader at the end. Let me know If you want part 2 I have some cool ideas for more

Cw: awkward situations ig, I'm aroace so I like unconventional platonic relationships, some swearing and suggestiveness from Angel

Being a small fennec fox demon wasn't easy. You were known for your small size and cuteness. So you were often seen as easy prey. But you also were so cute and incredibly soft that many couldn't resist touching you. You were used to it to some degree. But for some reason you still didn't see this coming.

It was the middle of the night and you had snuck out of your room and crept through the hotel to grab yourself a midnight snack. You were startled by the sound of someone entering the kitchen and discovered it was Lucifer (looking incredibly sleep deprived). You apologized immediately. "Oh sorry I was just grabbing a snack" you explained. "Sometimes I get cravings at night. I woke up a couple times tonight and couldn't get food off my mind maybe cause-" you stopped after realizing that not only was Lucifer not listening but he was staring at you like he was in a sleepy trance.

Not quite aware of what he was doing he kneeled down a bit and reached his hand towards you. He began petting you on the head and behind the ears. You at first were frozen unable to think of what to do before you melted at the touch of being petted. It was a weakness of yours. Before you knew it he had you in his arms carrying you off while scratching behind your ear. He took you into his room and petted you on his bed. He could not stop yawning. You were too comfortable to question what was going on and Lucifer was too tired and distracted to realize what he was doing

You woke up cozily tucked into Lucifer's arms before memories came flooding back and you tried to wiggle free. Lucifer woke up with a moan and noticed his hold on you before releasing you in a panic. "OHHHhhh. My gosh! I'm so sorry... this is-this is weird. I've never done this before" he was extremely apologetic and embarrassed. You calmed yourself and even though it was awkward quickly realized he was being genuine. "It's alright. Let's-let's just try and pretend this never happened" you said trying to make it less awkward. "Yes. Well um... yeah that's probably for the best"

Though you guys acted weird around each other all day it seemed like it was gonna stay in the past. That is until you got a knock at your door at 3 am. You opened it to see Lucifer with bags under his eyes with a nervous expression. "Hi, I hope I didn't wake you..." Lucifer began cautiously. "Whats going on?" You asked. "Look, i know we said we'd pretend like it never happened but I actually have never slept that good in my life. I... I don't sleep the greatest. Especially not since Lilith left. I tried really hard to put it outta mind tonight but I couldn't help it. I was wondering if... if..." He fumbled and turned red with embarrassment and you of course caught on to what he was trying to ask

"A sleepover every now and then couldn't hurt" you agreed careful with your wording as to not make either of you more uncomfortable. "But, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. No hanky panky, no dinner dates" you spoke clearly and strictly. "Wouldn't dream of it. Sooo... platonic?" He responded. "Platonic" you confirmed.

"Also, let's keep this between you and me" you stated. You didn't want people at the hotel (Angel) cracking jokes and you didn't want them to get the wrong idea either. It was something better kept private you thought. Lucifer nodded "of course"

That night led to many others. You and Lucifer spent so many nights together that you started to develop a strong bond. It was an odd relationship but you were grateful for it. That was until one glorious morning you awoke bright and early (as you usually did to avoid suspicion) and you crept out of Lucifer's room so you could head back to your own but as you closed Lucifer's door behind you heard a certain someone catch you in act.

"Wow, never thought you and the big dick in charge would be a thing" Angel grinned as you sighed and turned around to face him. "So how long you two been getting frisky? Man the broads are gonna flip" you wanted to slap him but unfortunately you couldn't reach. "It's not like that" you tried to explain. "Oh please, you sneaking out of his room early in the morning in your jammies? You think I'm fuckinh dense?" He questioned and you let out a heavy sigh realizing you had to tell him the truth or things would get very awkward soon.

You relayed the whole thing onto him. You hoped he would believe you. You knew this was definitely unconventional so you weren't sure. Finally you finished telling him what was going on and how it happened. "Soo... you guys just been sleeping together bit ACTUALLY sleeping?" He sounded surprised but it seemed like he believe you. "Yes" you answered with relief. "...All because you're like... this magical cure for insomnia?" He sounded a bit off when he asked that and you weren't sure why. "Yeah I guess... I don't know..."

"Can I give it a try?"

[letters-from-dekarios]

sunkissed hearts

chapter one: sandy and danny

summary: you’re starting a new college in europe in the fall and are taking all the time in the summer while in america to live your life to the fullest. while out at a bar one night, you meet a rather handsome man who gives you the best summer of your life. when you start college, your new english professor looks rather… familiar.

or: you spend a summer with gale, only for him to become your professor

word count: 3.8k

tags: college!au, professor!gale x f!reader, brief NSFW, MDNI, charas >20, mild language, themes of alcohol usage, theater kid!jen, artist!astarion, eventually other people will be there i promise

author’s note: i wasn’t intending for this to be a multi-part series, but it got so long & I didn’t want to rush the story, so this is going to be split into a few parts! i’d like to also note I don’t necessarily condone teacher/student relationships in most circumstances but… this fic fits the ones where you can go “okay that’s fair”. enjoy!

“Come on, one more bar!” You encouraged your friends. It was a Saturday night, the city was bustling with life. You were infused with the confidence of seven strippers on a Friday night and six shots of vodka— nothing was stopping you now.

The disapproving, tired looks from your friends begging you to give the night up and return home did nothing to deter you from pushing forward. But, alas, you were always the persistent type. Your whining droned on as you kept trying to persuade them.

“Just let me find a guy to go home with, okay? Then you guys can leave!” You urged them, and they begrudgingly agreed. Well, Jenevelle annoyedly agreed, Astarion was more than happy to keep going for the rest of the night, except he was sleep-deprived and just being a little jerk about it.

“Fine! But if you don’t find someone within the first hour, we’re leaving!” Jen yelled back as you practically skipped into the next bar you had on your list.

You had this idea in your head that the moment you left for college, you’d never be back to this town again. So, with that concept in mind, you aimed to complete your list of top things to do before you moved. This was one of your bucket list items- visit every bar in the city at least once and get a drink. You were making your way through the list pretty fast!

After entering, your friends separated from you, leaving you to walk up to the bar top and order your drink on your own. You started with something simple, a nice wine to get your evening going… even though you were halfway through it.

It wasn’t long before someone else was at your side, a good-looking man, no doubt. The conversation was idle and only lasted a few minutes before you were bored with him. He caught on to your exhaustion and gave up after a while, stumbling away into the rest of the crowd. Frustration brewed within you as you sat in silence conversations flitting around you and not with you. And then this smokey, woody scent stirred around you. You couldn’t tell if it was in your head or reality until you were greeted by a new man who sat beside you.

“Well you look awfully lonely, don't you?” The man joked, smiling at you as he ordered himself a whiskey- neat. You observed him, his features, and you contemplated if this was going to be your ride home tonight.

When he actually turned to you, and you looked at his face fully, you were certain he was the one. He had those eyes that just invited you into a warm hug, one you’d never want to let go of. His expressions were soft and comforting, bringing you a sense of calmness amidst the chaos around you. Even if only for a one-night stand, he would stay in your mind forever. You hadn't even been properly introduced yet, but the aura surrounding him gave way to opinions of him you would soon find as fact.

And he looked like he gave incredible head.

“Hello! The name’s Gale, might I ask yours?” He introduced, extending a hand towards you as he took a sip from his glass.

“Y/N,” you replied, shaking his hand. What kind of a man introduces himself at a bar and shakes your hand? Only a gentleman, you concluded. Okay, it was mostly the alcohol in your system talking, taking over your intuitions and ability to see any red flags, but gods did you want him.

And gods did you have him.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Fuck-”How late was it? You couldn’t tell anymore. Your concept of time had long since faded.

He was so goddamn good you just didn’t want it to stop. You kept begging for more, your body completely succumbing to his will. You moved in response to him and him alone, the noises of satisfaction leaving you fueling his desires. Your head tilted back into the silk sheets, your fingers clawing into his shoulders.

“Gods…” you heard him breathe out as he littered kisses down your bare chest. His hands roamed all along your curves, gently grabbing at you here and there, pulling your hips up to him, arching your back, sliding down your thighs… He knew his way around your body like he’d been with you for years.

You could feel the love and the care he put into it, which was an odd thing to think with a guy’s dick that you met mere hours ago in you.

Regardless, the feeling was true. You knew that he wasn’t one of those assholes who would toss you out right after he was done. No, he’d encourage you to stay- maybe even make you breakfast the next morning. He’d let you wear his shirt, even “accidentally” let you take it home. He’d leave his mark on you, and he’d do it with grace and respect. You had never had this with someone before.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

A little while later you were curled up at his side, your head against his bicep as you laid in bed with him. Your hand rested on his chest, tracing the tattoo he had there. You admired him, and he, you. You would let yourself indulge in this… for now. For as long as you could before you’d move away.

“Tell me…” Gale’s sweet, honey-like voice broke the quiet barrier between you two. “You’re much too kind and much too beautiful to be on your own. Are you sure you don’t have anyone special waiting for you back home?” He asked, and though you’d already answered “no” once, this time the question felt different. His thumb rubbed against your shoulder, his arm pulled you in, and you felt safe there, with him. Like you could tell him all your darkest secrets, and he’d listen to them all with no judgement.

“I’m sure,” you answered, looking up at him. You were still so mesmerized by him.

“How long are you here for?”

“Three more months, then I move away.”

“Hm.”

A hush fell between you as his eyes flitted to the ceiling, pondering over your response. You had no idea what he was to say next, but you’d answer wholeheartedly to whatever it was.

“Perhaps you’d like to spend some of that time with me?” He suggested, bringing his eyes back down to you.

This piqued your interest. What could that mean? You had seen from his lavish apartment that he was on the more comfortable side of life, was he willing to share that with you? Was he willing to make your summer memorable?

“Depends on what you mean by that..” you raised an eyebrow, shifting so you sat up. You moved on top of him, straddling his waist as he replied to you.

“You talked about making the most of this summer. You have a bucket list, right?” You nodded your head. “I’d like to help with that if you’d let me,” he offered, placing his hands at your sides.

“Oh? And what do you get in exchange for helping me fuel my crazy plans?” You asked, leaning down towards his face.

“Good company every once in a while. I’d like to hear about your adventures- maybe even partake in a few…” he trailed off, letting your mind wander to what he meant.

“So… you’d be my sugar daddy?”

He laughed, a deep laugh from the abdomen. His eyes squinted, his nose scrunched up, he shook his head… he was so pretty when he laughed.

“In a manner of speaking, you could call it that. I’d rather not, however.”

“You are technically older than me,” you pointed out. Though it was only by, what, ten years? Barely even that.

“Don’t say that! That makes it sound bad!”

“Ooooh… look at you, going after younger women…” you gasped, holding a hand to your chest dramatically. You fanned yourself, shaking your head and tsking disapprovingly at him. He broke your dramatics by flipping you into your back, hovering over you with a faux-stern look in his eye. Giggles broke from you as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you.

“Maybe I’ll take back my offer, then,” he threatened jokingly, returning your tsks.

“No, don’t do that…” you pouted, he couldn’t help but kiss you. You returned it, obviously, running a hand through his hair and tugging him closer. You had him already and yet you wanted more.

“I’ll take this as a yes, then?” He mumbled against your lips, trailing them down your jawline and to your neck.

“Yes.” You could barely breathe it out as he distracted your mind with his kisses, his soft hum against your skin an acknowledgment of your response. The night slowly faded away after that, his affection becoming a blur until you finally drifted off to sleep.

You were right, you found out, he was the type to make you breakfast the morning after. Though he didn’t stay, he left a sweet note for you apologizing for not being able to enjoy the morning with you. He even left you cash. Oh, hell yeah, you were doing this.

After enjoying your breakfast, you took down the phone number he had left you, sent him a sweet message, got yourself ready with all the things he had in his apartment (because who wouldn’t?) and went back to your home.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“You will never guess who I met,” you started as you entered through the doorway, dropping your shoes down.

“Henry the eighth?” Jen replied, not bothering to look up from the book she was currently invested in. Theater kids- you despised them at times.

“Gods no, I’d lose my head in two seconds flat,” you snorted, jumping over the couch and landing next to her.

“I don’t know then, who?” She asked, placing a finger in her book and shutting it.

“You remember that guy I went home with last night?”

“The librarian looking dude?”

Astarion came out from his room quickly, running out to join in the conversation. “Is she talking about the one who looked like that Hozier song’s lyrics?”

Jen nodded at him, and you rolled your eyes before continuing. “He was hot! You guys are just mean. Anyways- he took me home, best sex of my life by the way, and guess who has…” you paused dramatically, digging into your bra for the cash he had left you, holding up the wad with a grin on your face, “their very own sugar daddy! Just like I’d always dreamed of,” you sighed wistfully and then broke out in laughter as Jen and Astarion stared at you blankly.

“How old was this guy again?” Jen asked, raising an eyebrow while you swatted away Astarion’s greedy hands.

“Thirty-four— but he was so nice! He said he wanted to aid me in my summer bucket list. He made me breakfast,” You frowned slightly, and they got the hint that you really liked this guy.

“So, basically, you were a prostitute, and now he’s going to hire you for the whole summer?” Astarion asked, making a cheeky face at you.

You grabbed a nearby pillow and threw it at him, groaning out. “It’s not like that! You guys are so judgemental!”

“Hey, I didn’t say anything,” Jen raised her hands defensively, but the look she shared with Astarion said more than it needed to.

“No, but you’re thinking it! That’s just as bad!” You threw a pillow at her, and then a fully-fledged pillow fight began in the small living room space. You were laughing then, sure, but a teenie part of you wondered really why he was doing this for you. Did he like you that much? Or was he just using you for your body— were you seriously becoming a prostitute? Gods, you hoped not.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The next few weeks were normal, you’d tell Gale what you were up to, he’d send you some spending money, and you’d catch up with him later. Sometimes it’d be sex, sometimes he just wanted to hear about your day. You got the sense that, despite being so nice, he didn’t have many friends. At least, not any friends nearby, so you elected to keep him company whenever he needed. It became less and less of a business deal the more you got to know him.

A month into your little… transaction, he sent you an image of two tickets to Venice and the dates. You could’ve screamed right there, enthusiastically telling your companions about your upcoming trip. It was a short weekend, sure, but it was the most fun you’ve ever had.

He took you to a little restaurant, your table overlooking the water, one night. A single rose and a candle were placed between you two. It was fancy. You weren’t used to fancy, mostly because you never had the money for it. The only reason why you were moving was to take advantage of the international students program- that was pretty much a paid college ride.

Your parents weren’t exactly rich either, barely scraping by and living paycheck to paycheck when you were younger. The finer things in life consisted of a rare dinner out, usually pizza or Applebee’s, and the occasional gift or two that had a practical use for you. New shoes or a pencil case for school with your favorite character on it— you weren’t the spoiled type, all of this was new to you.

“Get whatever you’d like,” Gale told you, and your eyes hungrily scanned the menu. The prices caught your eye, and you bit the inside of your cheek. You knew he was generous, but some part of you felt awkward taking from him so bluntly like this.

“I think I’ll just get a salad or something…” you said warily, apprehensive about it all. Funny how you were hesitant now, and not when he bought you tickets to Venice. Ironic.

“Oh, please. Humor me, darling. Make my wallet hurt,” he grinned at you from across the table, and you laughed at the comment. Well, now that you had his permission…

“How much can I hurt it?” You asked curiously, eyeing a rather expensive meal on the menu.

“Hm… are you willing to make up the difference later if it’s more than expected?” He raised an eyebrow at you, his eyes still trained on the menu.

“When in… Venice,” you chimed back, adjusting the phrase to suit your location.

It was, in fact, more than he expected. But you were sure he’d say that regardless of what you ordered, and you didn’t mind the view of the sunset over Italy as he hit it from behind.

You laughed internally, both out of humor and pity for yourself. You had no idea how you were going to survive once the summer was over and you moved away, not once this whole thing broke off. But, hey, you could, and most definitely would, enjoy it while it lasted.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The rest of the summer was spent similarly, going out and doing adventurous things with your friends, paid for by Gale. Sometimes he’d join you, or take you away on another short vacation and spoil you absolutely rotten with everything he could. You couldn’t be happier, and it felt good for him to use the money he had to help someone live their dreams before they had no free time left.

The end came faster than you did after your first night with him. Less crude analogy? How about, the summer ended faster than the bullet train you took in Tokyo where you’d spent a whole week with him.

You had told him in advance that it was your last week in the city, and he took the opportunity to pamper you more than ever. He got you a new laptop, headphones, brand new tablet… he wanted to make sure you were all set for your move. You half wondered if he was trying to get you to be his girlfriend- but that was a subject you two didn’t talk much about.

You realized in that final week that, actually, you didn’t know much about him at all. You knew he was an English Professor, he didn’t share where, though. You knew that he was young to be an English Professor… and that he had a cat, named Tara. Besides that, he was a phantom on the terrace threatening to leave you with the wounds of a lover when you finally moved on.

Despite your wanting to cling to him regardless of the time or day, you knew that it would have to end eventually. Even if you stayed in touch now and then, part of you wanted to leave all your dreams behind for him. You knew he wouldn’t let you do that.

The last night, before you moved out, was spent with him. He took you to dinner, indulged you, like usual, and then the rest of the night was… well, passionate to say the least. You savored every moment with him, and he, you. He took his time, caressing and kissing every inch of you. He memorized the way your body felt under his own, the way his hands fit perfectly at your bare waist, the way you moved in accordance with everything he did. You wished the fun would never end.

“Promise you won’t forget me…” you begged him, sticking to his side as you tried to make the night last longer.

“My love, with you I forget myself. I would never dream of letting these memories slip away from me. You are the object of all my intuitions, and you will forever be branded on my heart,” God, he was so poetic. You loved it. You loved him, but wouldn’t say it. This was a transaction, right? Now that it had been processed, you had to move on. Besides, you still barely knew anything about him. What was there to love other than the poet’s romantic words and the money in his pocket?

“I’m going to miss you,” you whispered to him, burying your face into his chest.

“Try not to.”

But you couldn’t try to not miss him. You couldn’t stop thinking about your summer with him, how adored he made you feel. You thought you’d never see him again.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“If I had a nickel for every time you spent mourning over your summer with Gale, I’d be able to buy and sustain a cottage in the middle of nowhere,” Jenevelle remarked one day in your new apartment. You finally had things together and littered your space with pictures you’d taken of your time with him. Astarion had to stop you from crowding his space with those pictures, too.

“I’m not mourning anything. I just miss it,” you huffed, setting a photo down as you went back to packing your bag. “The sex was awesome.”

“I doubt he even remembers what you look like. It’s been months,” Astarion cackled.

It had been so long since you last saw him. When you left for college, you were supposed to start in the fall, but now it was practically winter. Between the stress of moving, and life being life, your start date was pushed out a few months longer than it was supposed to be. It didn’t help that your school lost your transfer papers, either, or that your student visa was delayed by a few weeks. Overall, your move was a mess, and you blamed it on leaving the handsome English professor in America. Maybe if you’d stayed…

“Don’t say that!” You whined, whacking him in the back of the head with some of your papers. “He remembers me. He still talks to me.”

“Yeah, he sends you money. That’s about it,” Jen pursed her lips together, shrugging at you. Okay, maybe she was a little bit right. But you were not about to admit that.

“Shut… shut up.”

“Exactly.”

You finished packing for the day and started to make yourself breakfast. You had calculated the route perfectly, you had plenty of time to get ready and enjoy some you-time before your morning class.

You didn’t estimate the giant accident on the way there, though. You practically had a mini heart attack trying to rush through traffic to get there, just barely making it on time. Lucky for you, the professor wasn’t there yet, either.

You squeezed into a seat near the back that was open, apologizing to your seatmates for being late. You pulled out your tablet and set up your notes as neatly as you could. By the end of the lecture you were sure they’d be all over the place, but you could at least try. Your peers beside you introduced themselves as Lae’zel and Wyll and you thanked them both for allowing you to sit between them.

You were nose-deep in your screen, perfecting the layout of your notes, that you didn’t even notice the professor walk in, the room becoming oddly silent.

“This guy is also on the board of directors, and he’s the head of the English department,” Wyll whispered to you. You looked up from your tablet, only seeing the professor’s back as he faced the board. At least your seatmates were kind enough to let you in on all the missing details. How useful that would be in the long run, you’d find out, but it was beneficial to know who you were dealing with.

“Welcome to Honors English 122. For all those new and old, we’re going to be covering a variety of subjects this semester…” his voice trailed off in your mind— you recognized it from somewhere. But where? It was hard to place, especially since he was so far away from you. You needed to see his face- that would solidify where you knew him from.

“I’m Professor Dakarios and I’ll be your guide through the wonderful world of the English language and its impact on our society,” You tried to place the last name, but failed. You were convinced you absolutely knew him, but had not a clue as to how. Oh well.

“Does he start every class like this?” You whispered to Wyll, who nodded solemnly. Was it an ego trip or excitement to have a class to himself? You’d uncover that, too, you supposed.

The professor clasped his hands behind his back, satisfied with the way his name had been written on the board, and turned to face the class. He beamed at the students in front of him, stepping around his desk and leaning against the edge of it. Your eyes narrowed, trying to see him clearly. Considering how large the lecture room was and how far away you were, it was a bit hard.

“It seems we’ve had a handful of new additions to the class this week. I’d like to take a small break from the usual lecture and get some introductions in,” he smiled again, folding his hands in his lap. “I’ll start— my first name is Gale, I’ve been teaching for about six years now, and I have a little feline at home named Tara- who, no, I cannot bring in to show you all.”

Holy. Shit.

“Who would like to go next?”

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

[thelaughtercafe]

Reader finding out Byakuya and Peko are ticklish

Tea Type: Rose Boba

Potential Triggers: N/A

Pairing: F! Reader/Byakuya, F! Reader/Peko

Length: 503

Summary: N/A

Byakuya Togami:

You’ve gotta be real close with him to even get anywhere close. The thing about these two is they’re constantly aware of their surroundings. 

Aoi tried to tickle him in the library once and was smacked on the head with a book for her attempt. 

So he’d need to be off his game- sleep-deprived or just overthinking a particular issue. 

When your hands slip around his waist he assumes you’re being typical and wanting affection but nope- by the time he realizes; he’s already snorting and jerking in your grip. 

He rushes to cover his mouth between gasps of mirth, boyish giggles and snickers that are totally foreign when not in derision of someone making you giggle too. 

“You're…aha! Gonna wish I killed you fast!”

He’s a threatener when he’s ler’d. Total brat. 

Never admits it but honestly? Think he’d like the loss of control. 

His only hard no is telling Toki/Genocider. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it. 

Most comfy with you but also finds he doesn’t mind the future foundation members wrecking him a little, especially Makoto, and Kyoko since he feels they’re “on his level”.

He’s a fighter but he also never wants to hurt who’s getting him a lot of times so he’ll flail out wildly at empty space.

Only one I think he wouldn’t mind hitting is Yasuhiro just because he finds it funny honestly. 

He regrets it after Hiro redoubled his efforts and forces him to squeal out an apology. 

Hates his laugh.

His siblings made fun of him for it, so he’s incredibly sensitive about it but he gradually learns everyone has weird laughs through you and Future Foundation. 

Peko Pekoyama:

Peko is a smidgen like Togami in that you need to be close to her first. 

She’ll flip your ass if you catch her off guard and then gasp and rush to make sure you’re okay.

She doesn’t mean to, but she’s trained that way to protect Fuyuhiko and the whole family. 

But you’ll likely find out while unwinding with her- offering her a massage is a great way to initiate touch. She doesn’t see it coming and you feel a little bad for tricking her as she beams in excitement. 

You start massaging her back and shoulders normally for a few minutes and then suddenly brush your fingertips over her sides. 

Poor thing yelps and you both freeze, blushing. 

She’s exceedingly adorable you decide, when she turns and mumbles shyly. 

“I…didn’t say you had to stop.”

She’s curious honestly. Here is a sensation she’s never experienced before. She wants to experience it to its fullest. 

She’s seen her Young Master and his sister of course but she was never included in such things. It wasn’t something thought about. 

Fuyuhiko finds out firsthand when Peko doesn’t disappear during one of said tickle fights and takes full advantage of it. 

He gets you an extravagant gift to say thank you, and Peko will seek you out when she needs a massage again. 

It’s very sweet. 

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE! BATFAM W/ MILES MORALES (BUT GENDER NEUTRAL) ! READER

[ PART ONE ] [ PART THREE ]

GENERAL CW/TW: Spoilers for Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse. Typical Yandere themes of stalking, violence and whatnot.

PART CW/TW: Reader gets called a beauty (beauty/beautiful is gender neutral fite me).

EXTRA: also uh mind you most of my knowledge on the boys come from reading fics so if i get any of my info wrong feel free to correct me

current status: unedited

summary: reader gets into multiverse related hi-jinx and almost gets their ass broken if it weren’t for a tired, definitely sleep deprived senior catching them. (it’s tim you guys)

Reply if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

WHAT’S UP DANGER

(PART TWO)

“I like tall buildings so I can leap off of ‘em,

I go hard wit’ it no matter how dark it is.”

Turns out being a hero is hard skill to learn. Especially if you were working on a time limit.

You had recently gained the ability to uh- well you didn’t know what exactly. All you knew is that somehow you were at least 5x as strong as you were before and a lot more sticky.

Not to mention your senses were all over the place.

It’s like you could see, hear, smell and feel everything.

You didn’t really want to avoid Damian, but whenever you came across him — or just went within his immediate vicinity. Your “tingles” and enhanced “senses” would flare up and make you dizzy.

Usually it’d only be that bad when there were projectiles or insects around you. You surmised it was probably your powers warning you of the dangers he may potentially bring. Whether it’d be from himself (the heir must have some sort of self defense skills) or his name (you didn’t want to think of the target you’ve put on your back both in school and life in general by being his acquaintance. Jesus [Y/N]. Being distracted by your future and planned failure in academics doesn’t excuse letting that happen. Stupid.).

You were mostly stumbling around with your strange set of abilities until you met this girl named Gwen.

First of all, she was just — incredibly pretty. You couldn’t but just stare at her sometimes and—

Getting back on track — !

After getting some spidey sense feedback loop and ripping off a massive chunk of her hair. You find out that you’re this universe’s “Spiderman.”

And that she, was from another universe entirely.

Even a big sci-fi junkie like you had to doubt her words, but as she showcased her abilities you pretty much went on your knees and begged her to teach you.

The both of you get to work quickly. Investigating how she got to your universe and practicing the use of your powers.

The first part went really well. You even met a few other dimension traveling spider-people (and animal) along the way. After sneaking into a lab, you found out that it was a rich man’s, King Pin, “bring his family back project” that brought you all together. But that his actions were probably going to destroy the fabric of reality if he kept going.

The second part, not so much. Your stickiness was something you just couldn’t control.

Luckily it was winter break and that prevented you from ripping another schoolmate’s hair off.

Your “universe specific” abilities, as the other spider-people called it, like invisibility and bio-electricity only came out at random. Sometimes at the most inconvenient times.

Your webbing abilities were subpar to say the least. Many attempts led to you breaking several bones.

Praise super-regeneration and all

But f u c k did it still hurt.

and it was during one of those web-swinging practice sessions when you fall into the arms of Tim Drake.

Tim was just trying to get some fresh air.

After passing out on duty last night and having to deal with Damian suddenly abandoning his missions for some reason. He decided that maybe it was time for a break.

He didn’t exactly expect to have a young adult falling into his arms during said break.

He was just talking a casual stroll really. In a relatively quiet part of Gotham, he didn’t expect much to be happening much less a pretty/handsome giving him a small wave as they sheepishly laugh at their . . . strange encounter.

“ Hey. ” You smiled at him. Praying to all that is holy that he doesn’t notice the bits of undissolved webs you have littered across your hoodie. Thank goodness you didn’t wear your makeshift mask today. He was going to think you were even more of a weirdo than you already are!

“ Hey. ” Tim replied. Praying to all that is holy that you don’t notice his heart rate picking up and his ears turning red. It was the cold he swears! The cold!

“What’s a beauty like you doing around in a place like this?”

They both ask in sync with completely awkward delivery to boot.

Taglist: @vanessa-boo @w31rdg1rl

[ PART THREE ]

[bekkachaos]

BRIDGERTON THOUGHTS PRT 1 !

Okay so I've got me some thoughts about season 3 and I'm just going to get them all out, please come talk to me and tell me if I'm wrong, if I'm right or just make incoherent noises at me.

If you don't want Bridgerton season 3 part 2 spoilers it's time to look away!

Imma start with just Polin then do another post for the rest, this is too long 😅

Okay, so I'll start with the music, I'm sure we all knew POV was going to be during the mirror scene and oh my god it did not disappoint. It was perfect.

Then we've got yellow, now I knew, I knew, this would be their wedding song. It had to be their wedding song. I was ready to boycott if yellow was not their wedding song (this is a lie but that's how confident I was) and it was so goddamn sweet with him looking at her coming down the aisle and she looked so beautiful!

And let's not even talk about you belong with me when they're dancing. Let's not even talk about it.

The Portia and Colin scene was perfect. Everything about it was perfect and you won't change my mind.

I really loved that we got a lot of parallels and nods to the things that Portia has done for her family and the things that Penelope has done as Lady Whistledown, and that it finally allowed them to be closer because Penelope has spent all this time thinking her mother doesn't care about her and that she's vapid but then by the end she realises that they aren't all that different and it really mends the gap there.

It was kind of sad for Colin when he was showing Penelope their new house and she just wasn't getting as excited as him. But then him telling her that he loves her right after defending her honour was so beautiful and just made my heart do little flippies.

And like obviously I've got to mention the mirror scene. I've got to mention it. I've just got to do it. It was so soft and loving and Colin just spouting his feelings was the most wonderful thing and they did it so beautifully with the way that they changed the camera and it went from voice over to him talking real time.

Unpinning her hair? Why the fuck did I find that so romantic?

And I love that they kept her self-conscious and he just kept telling her that she didn't need to be because he loved everything about her and he found her so beautiful, and then he undressed her so slowly and I love her little cover up because it showed how nervous she was.

But can I just say? Lie down? Lie down?? Damn okay Colin. Yes sir right on that.

And then him undressing just as slowly and her watching him and my god the little noise when he took off his breeches, her face was so cute the whole time I can't even tell you how adorable and perfect it was!

And I love how much it nodded to the book in the dialogue and her asking him to tell her what to do.

The whole scene was just so tender and real and it felt so different to the other love scenes that we've had in the previous seasons, which were very much driven by passion. Even Daphne and Simon in season 1. Where there was that vulnerability it was different, he had already told her how she could feel pleasure whereas this is all new for Penelope, and Colin just made sure she was okay the whole time, made sure she wanted it, and the way they were able to smile and laugh... It was so comfortable and sweet and simply incredible!

The dancing in the church was just so cute and throwing in the line about him not being punished as a child was such a good book callback

Kinda glad Colin found out the way he did in the book, but fucking ouch!

The silence that came after? Fucking heartbreaking. But Portia and Violet noticing and wondering wtf happened was actually kinda funny, I like them together.

The wedding was incredible obviously, but also it felt wrong to go from the silence to such sweetness and then back to Colin literally sleeping on a tiny ass couch? Like WHY?

Also we were deprived of Colin and Pen waking up in bed together and being soft and sweet and laughing and just generally being so fucking in love?? If I don't get that at least once in season 4 I will riot!

imma make a part 2 this is so long!

[mixupmycota]

also vis a vis lucanis and his romance, spoilers for the whole thing

one of my initial comments on it was that i wasn't sure if it had started to fire or not, it felt like friendship+

this was not a complaint

i again think that people had standards set by bg3 that it isn't fair to hold veilguard too and it wouldn't be fair if it had come out next year either

but aside from that

while we don't have an exact timeline for how fast events in the game happen, it's pretty fast

it's more than a month i think but less than a year for sure.

my own horrors make me deeply sympathetic to lucanis and his reticence around open displays of affection and his hesitance to actually initiate a relationship

especially since it turns out he's never actually been in one before and the only time he ever tried to show interest in someone else before it bombed

it's entirely possible lucanis has never had sex to begin with, and he's fresh out of a year in captivity, he's having to get used to sharing his brain with a demon, Rook is the first person he considers a genuine actual friend aside from his cousin and like

yeah

there

he hoards food under his bed in the cellar, and he stays there because, textually, it has choke points and a single entrance and no windows

the lighthouse reminds him of the ossuary as it is, and he has trouble telling day from night and tries to keep track of every hour.

he also forces himself into a state of extreme sleep deprivation and is reliant on caffeine to help with this and settle his nerves

and he blames himself for the way several plot events can go and thinks that he should have been better / faster / stronger (now i need to listen to daft punk but that aside)

he has no idea how to manage his own ptsd aside from pretending that everything is fine, and is harrowed and haunted by the idea that he fails everyone around him. while he shrugs off many of the cutting things that companions have to say over the course of the game until they learn to trust him, some of the things they say clearly dig deep into his mind and he takes them on to the point they influence his own idea of himself

lucanis is a character terrified of failing people, of the amount of responsibility he carries, and is convinced that he is failing people at every turn

he holds himself to incredibly high standards

so yeah he's slow to open up

i am genuinely disappointed by how many people have responded to everything going on with this man with "he should make out with / fuck my rook faster" when like

leave him alone he needs time

it feels like people are expecting him to be very sexual based on his outward presentation and charm and im just holding my head like the character's facade is meant to be dismantled by the viewer please

and when he does

when he comes to you the night he gets you back after an undisclosed but apparently extensive amount of time in a torment nexus, he has had time to think about how long it took him to open up

he makes the choice to be brave and to risk being vulnerable

and he does it in rook's room

in front of the fish tank

which mimics the view he would have had in the ossuary, but reflects that in this moment rook had successfully helped him free himself from its memory to be there and exist and live with them

he trusts rook enough to almost fall asleep in their lap, he curls inward facing them and it made me cry

my rook being a mage and a necromancer at that also made this especially potent

lucanis trusts kalin with himself, and spite trusts him too, and that's such a precious thing actually

[kumezyzo]

literally love you for all the streamer!reader hc cus no one else really does it 🫶🏼🫶🏼 (pls do more for my well-being ill beg 🤧)

hehe. first thing that came to mind was the creation of everest. so here you go. fem!reader

i was so incredibly sleep deprived and in a random holiday inn express in colorado/kansas when i started writing this. so its my brain basically on crack trying to describe harmonies in my cellist little peanut brain 😭😭

i also assumed this anon wanted bf!sapnap... and im sorry if thats not the case. just pretend i never wrote any of that.

anyway, enjoy! or dont... :) m.list

bsf!dream who asks you to harmonize on the vocals with him.

"its like barely an octave higher," he tells you as you stand infront of the microphone. you roll you eyes and adjust the headphones on your head.

"its barely an octave higher," you say, mocking his voice.

"yea and then its higher on the second 'coming down' and keep it high but flat," he says easily.

you stare at him with furrowed eyebrows as you think over his words.

you sigh, "i hate being your friend."

bsf!george who teases you when he hears your vocals added to the song.

"oh my god, yn's singer era?" he grins at you. you groan and shove him playfully.

bf!sapnap who hears your raw vocals and just feels like a proud bf that you stepped out of whatever comfort zone you had to sing in dreams song.

when people hear the take with all four of you, they can actually tell because of your voice.

during bsf!dreams promotion for the song, he posts on tiktok with the title 'yn not singing and stalling for three minutes'

its a compilation of you talking and pacing around the studio, prolonging a groan, and insulting clay as much as you can. and saying obscenities into the microphone, obviously.

"im hungry, are you guys hungry? we should go get some food....and not come back-" "ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

"clay, youre a bitch." "clay, i hate you." "dream is a bitch, sub to me-" "so high like im on acid-" "i thought nick and george were supposed to be on this song too."

bsf!george who complains about how much you and sapnap were pelting him with snowballs during the music video.

"for some reason they gave them all to sapnap. and he gave half of them to yn," george said recalling the semi-traumatic events. "and both of them throwing them were so painful."

on your own stream, you talk about the behind the scenes of the music video.

"shes [amouranth] actually such a cool person...i was about to leave nick for her-"

"what you guys didnt see after nick popped the champagne, was that he proceeded to point it at me and completely drench me in it," you say pursing your lips in annoyance. "and it didnt even taste good!"

"they asked me to join this little pillow fight right here," you said pointing at the screen. "and instead of hitting kaitlyn, i went around and smacked the fuck out of george. but you can barely see it."

"i really hope they didnt get that energy drink on the carpet..."

bf!sapnap who suggested you getting in a bikini like the other girls in the music video.

you look at your boyfriend blankly, "your such a perv-"

i liked writing this. thats it. -nony

[robvandamdatass]

today pluto left capricorn, and entered aquarius where it will be for the next twenty years. i felt the transition .. or maybe it was sleep deprivation. either way, i'm feeling bittersweet about it. here are some unorganized reflections about this time for me:

in astrology, pluto represents transformations and rebirth to whatever it touches. in capricorn, which represents societal structures and government, i think we've all witnessed and woke up to the fuckery of it all.

pluto entered capricorn back in 2008. sixteen years ago! i was either 16 or 17. while in capricorn, pluto transited my seventh house of relationships (whole sign- this could mean any form of relationships. platonic, intimate, enemies, etc.), and transiting my eighth house of death/taxes (placidus- from feb 2019 on until current day where it will journey for the next ten years i believe), really anything money and paperwork related. i guided my mom on how to handle money during this time/mainly 2020 and i began to save for the first time in my life.

a lot has happened to me personally during this time frame, and i grew in so many ways that i cannot articulate. even when i was fighting change, felt unsure or confused, i eventually surrendered to the realities of life and watch society change and crumble around (and not benefit) me at the same time. it was for the best. i had to learn to trust myself in making decisions and to prove to my authoritarian counterparts that i can be trusted in those decisions. being a female, you're forever viewed as inferior and no one ever takes you seriously until its too late. its something i've been challenging since i was 10.

i made many unforgettable connections. i met people i look up to, and engaged in conversations with them (i still can't get over peter buck from rem and meeting s club omgomgomg) and even formed friendships. if you know me irl, i am reserved and uncomfortably shy with a resting bitch face. i look unapproachable. but i am far from this. i realize, everyone is human and feels like this as well. no matter their position in life.

i lost a few friendships too. one in particular was incredibly difficult. but that's when i knew i had to set BOUNDARIES on how i wanted to be treated, and remain firm in them. change was coming at me in different ways. i'm pretty sure the election that year was the culprit as well.

paramore's "after laughter" woke me tf up to a lot of the mentioned above. i cried many nights to that album. i finally understood why i was feeling the way i was. it is still on constant replay to this day.

in january 2017 i was diagnosed with PCOS (polycystic ovarian syndrome). a chronic hormonal disorder where my ovaries became enlarged and formed small cysts to the outer edges of my ovaries. this put me at risk of diabetes, high cholesterol and infertility.

i began to have irregular bleeding around feb 2011. i was 19 omw to 20. i was having menstrual cycles/periods that lasted more than one month. the longest i experienced had to be approaching three months. i went to the hospital where they tried pushing birth control at me. i refused this as an option. i was not sexually active. why would i use something not for its intended use? i knew the risk of taking birth control, especially as a black woman, how it would react to my body (blood clots, weight gain and other complications). i also knew whatever was happening to my body, BC would further complicate it. i ended up researching home remedies and alternatives, and it worked for a few years. i kept track of how long my periods lasted and/or when i missed cycles. but eventually the irregular bleeding returned in late 2016. pushing one of my many fears aside. i went to the gynecologist for the first time where i was diagnosed.

i was at my highest weight, depressed and ready to end my life. my mom, bless her, guided and reassured me i can and will get better. her unwavering support of me, not only during this time, just in general, is unfathomable. i'm an anxious mess.

i had only told a few people about this. mind you, i was still reeling from the end of said friendships and my trust in people, even to those closest to me, was nonexistent at this time.

i thought it was the end of my dream before it even began. i wanted to be able to have children in a "traditional" way one day. as a child of adoption, in my head, i wanted to prove i can do something natural and right in my lifetime. as an identifying female, and choosing to be celibate from a young age (for non religious reasons), until i found someone who matched my convictions, along with childbearing, it was all i have control as this gender. it was a harsh wake up call to my convictions. it also brought a huge awareness on how i was treating my body and my relationship to food and my psychological being.

since the diagnosis, i lost 32 pounds and have maintained this for four years now (even after covid/2020 where i gained 15 of those pounds back- i lost it quickly the next year as the world began to "open" up again). i want to lose more. but no matter how much exercise i implement, or walks i take, it remains stagnant.

this past summer, i took it upon myself to see every basic doctor. a fear i developed over time: taking care of myself. i hadn't seen most of these doctors since i was a child. i saw regular (blood work was good!), dentist (fear- insecure about my teeth/got some fixed and a very thorough cleaning i've been maintaining since), eye (fear- i developed trichotillomania in 2012 due to financial stress my mom and i were experiencing at the time/i can tell you now since july 2024 i now have eyelashes again and i wear glasses after finding out i have slight astigmatism in my left eye and only having 20/40 vision- something i knew i had a long time ago i just didn't want it confirmed), dermatologist (fear- related to my menstrual cycle/around 13 (pluto in sagittarius was a wild trauma forming time btw more on that for another time) i developed hidradenitis suppurativa- i don't think it had a name at the time and i had no idea how to treat it beyond home remedies/after 20 years, seeing the dermatologist saved my life) and the gynecologist. as of september 2024, after a very painful and annoying ultrasound checkup on my uterus, according to my gynecologist my ovaries were back to normal!!!!!! phew.

it is true if your mental health isn't right, your physical health reflects it. and my life hasn't been an easy one. i do believe everything i've lived through did not help my mental and physical health and growth (scars left on my heart, formed patterns in my mind- is a pmore lyric that comes to mind every time). i internalize like no one's business. but i realize suppressing and avoiding is the wrong route. it has to be released and addressed.

i will continue to manage, and do what i've been doing since being diagnosed, to help my body release and heal from life's hovering death grip and learn to love itself. its astonishing the stress and trauma our bodies store from the time we are born, and builds up over time. we don't notice until its late, and an illness has formed from it.

i took a break from astrology in the early 10's. but i eventually returned to it during my progressed lunar return around 2016/2017/during the beginning stages of my diagnosis. i was looking for answers as to why life was happening so much during those years, and gained a deeper understanding on how it works. lo and behold i was officially becoming an adult who was approaching her saturn return (which coincided with covid/shut down- i was freaking the fuck out but i was prepared mentally because i knew it was coming .. just not in the way it presented itself: the pandemilovato). with pluto creeping up right alongside saturn, it has been a double whammy on my psyche for sure.

as i mentioned above pluto is about transformations. saturn is all about karma and accountability. its about growing the fuck up. for REAL. you cannot avoid what it continuously puts in front of you for so long. the moon is your emotions, and mines were being amplified strongly whether i wanted it to or not.

understanding myself, my life and the way its played out so far and understanding others in this form is a privilege not everyone has and i'm not pushy nor braggy about it. if you know about it, cool. if you know i do readings and interpretations, cool. whenever you're ready to know more, i am more than happy to discuss astrology with you. but i would never try to persuade you. you have to come to that conclusion yourself. i'm just trying to make sense of this world, and be a guidance to those who need an ear to hear.

there was loss on many levels throughout this journey. but i gained knowledge, perspective and so much love for myself.

i come out of all of this knowing my boundaries and who i am in my convictions. to remain calm and still within chaos, internally and externally. accept change, and learn to let go.

[bbutterflies]

2023 fanfic year in review

Thank you @kasienda for the tag!!! Been meaning to do this since I wrote so much in 2023!

Fics completed this year:

Oh my god I was writing lovesquare still at the beginning of the year… who was I back then… I finished I’d fall in love with you a thousand times and Meant to be, and then wrote all of Intertwined. I try to hold these all in kind thoughts. I don’t think they’re all that great, personally, but I just hadn’t written as much when I wrote them and never outlined or planned ahead. But I’m happy people liked them!

And then I went off the deep end with adrino:

I’ll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious)

Falling into place

ways to say I love you

promise me forever

The memories we (don’t) make

Not much of a cat person

The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you)

Chemistry with him (for Ninovember 2023! I wrote the entire thing in about a month and a half and posted daily in November. My life took a serious turn for the worse by the end of the month and the comments and support on this fic were so amazing and incredible and kept me going!)

Love you snow much

And then I ended strong with this incredibly devastating (but really good) loveywalker one shot: fine line

Number of words written:

My ao3 stats say I published 329,988 words in 2023 which is insane????? I don’t know how I did that but oh my god it was so fun. I know I wrote way more that I didn’t publish with edits and stuff I scrapped, but I don’t keep track because it would just be way too difficult… at least another 100-150k if I had to guess in cut scenes and wips I haven’t published and stuff I just decided I didn’t like. I don’t know how in the world I managed to write so much while already a sleep-deprived grad student but I definitely don’t regret it. It was a blast.

Your most popular fic:

By hits, Meant to be. Oh man… if I wrote this now I’d do so much differently. I was surprised people loved it so much, and looking back, I’m like oh god… the mistakes… but it’s all a learning process! :) and I learned and grew so much from this one.

By kudos, ways to say I love you, which I didn’t expect to gain any traction at all. It’s just over 600 words, something silly and cute I figured a couple people would like, and it totally blew up.

Your personal fav:

I know I’ve said this before but Falling into place, hands down, is my number one. I know I’ve also said before it’s such a queer, teenage experience, but it is and it means so much to me. Being in high school, being in love with your friends and not even knowing it, aughhh I just love it. I love the way I wrote it. I’m so proud of it still!

Your fav scene:

Oh man… probably the kiss scene in chapter 9 of The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you). I wrote it so many times and made so many edits but I ended up so proud of it!

A fic or scene that challenged you:

I had a lot of fun with most of my fics! Having multiple wips on the backburner gave me a way to take a break and work on other stuff when I was having trouble with one and I can usually come back with fresh eyes later and never have too much trouble. But right now, If I hold you too close is challenging emotionally. It’s super personal and self-indulgent, and digging into a lot of my own past and traumas and mistakes to write it has been harder than I thought it would be. I’m excited to keep working on it but it’s been draining at times for sure.

A line of writing you’re proud of: 

Oh man, I don’t know how to pick a single line… I’ll have to go with this (even though it’s technically more than one line) from Falling into place:

Adrien’s eyes were locked on Nino’s. He was staring back with something in his expression Adrien couldn’t quite read, something he hadn’t seen before. Or maybe he had but he’d just never been looking.

A comment that touched you:

A few come to mind! I’ve had several people comment on my adrino fics telling me they hadn’t shipped them before but they do after reading, and honestly that’s my number one life goal at the moment haha. I love adrino! I want more people to love them!

I genuinely love all the comments I get. It means so much that people read and love my work. The people who say so specifically always get me teared up… I’ve gotten several on my fluff fics that said they were going through stuff in life and my writing was a bright spot for them, and genuinely that’s insane to me. To touch someone else, to have a positive impact on their life through art…. oughhh it’s just so human and raw and I love it! I’m so honored!

Something that inspired your writing:

I honestly spent a lot of time writing what I personally wanted/needed to read! I needed more domestic adrino fluff, and I wasn’t finding quite what I wanted to read, so… I wrote it for myself! I love rereading them knowing it’s exactly what I want to read, and knowing other people enjoyed them too. I’ve been incredibly selfish in my writing this year (in the best way) and it’s been so inspiring also to see other people want to read it too! The moment I knew (I’d no choice but to love you) was something I didn’t think would garner much attention at all. A rarepair and a super silly trope? I thought whatever, I’m writing it for me, hopefully a couple others like it, and it got so much more positive attention than I thought. I’m so glad!

Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

Probably figuring out I’ll give myself a name (something stupid and pretentious)! I think I’ve mentioned before I was originally writing it as a lovesquare fic. I wrote it and rewrote it like six times before I thought, no, this should be about Adrien and Nino. And then it just clicked!

Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I have a secret wip in my docs I’ve talked about a couple times, but it’s a slowburn teenage adrino and I really would love to write all of it! I think I’m struggling to decide exactly what kind of story I want to tell and it’s making it hard to outline and write when I don’t have a clear end direction, but that��s something I’d definitely love to figure out.

And I’d love to get back into lovesquare, too! I have a few wips that I keep putting on the backburner but I really want to dust them off and finish them, and maybe start some new stuff. Writing my loveywalker fic was SO fun (if devastating) and I can’t believe it’s been months since I sat down and wrote lovesquare.

This isn't a direct writing goal, but I'm determined to comment more on fics I read. I love getting comments, and I don't leave them enough on the fics I love, and that's something I really want to change!

Anyone you would like to thank?

@kasienda and @flightfoot I think are tied for commenting on my fics, and it really means so much to have cheerleaders in my inbox!!! Especially writing adrino when readership is lower, it was a huge help to have people reading and commenting and cheering me on <3

@asukiess and @isabugs recently for screaming with me in general about this show! You’ve inspired me to write so much more… I can’t wait to be absolutely unhinged in 2024.

And all my commenters on ao3!! I don’t know everyone’s tumblr and couldn’t possibly tag them all but it means so much every time I get a comment. I wouldn’t be writing as much as I do without the direct support! Thank you!!!

[ciaossu-imagines]

Hi! This is my first time here and I thought I'd send in a request! Could I please ask for mysme 707 and prompt number 18 from the character meme?

Your character has been working hard for two weeks straight, and its their first night off - without any responsibilities to take care of the next day, with nobody having announced themselves to drop by, basically: the evening is 100% theirs to unwind and relax. What do they do?

Thank you <3 I look forward to seeing what you come up with!

Well hello and welcome to the blog, new reader! I'm really excited you're here and super happy for the request. It was a great and interesting one, so thank you so much for sending it in, especially for a fandom that is so dear to me but isn't amongst the most requested for.

Now, I do think it's super rare for Seven to ever truly get an entire day off, responsibility free, but on the rare occasion he does, it is something he cherishes.

As bad as it sounds, the fact is that Seven is almost always sleep deprived and he's probably going to waste a lot of that evening or day off catching up on the much needed sleep he's been missing out on.

Other than that, I do think that how he spends his day off depends on whereabouts, story wise, we are with Seven. If it's prior to the story events or even early in the story events, I do think that Saeyoung had hobbies he enjoyed indulging in when he did get off time and things he liked to do.

He would definitely make more time to be active in the chat room and there are a few movies and shows that he might take the time to watch, maybe even inviting Yoosung to go with him.

He might also try to go sneak in to visit Elly, as it's proven he's done at least once.

I also do think that, being the car lover he is, that Seven really does find it incredibly relaxing and peaceful to go for long drives, not really with any destination in mind, just him and the open road and the stereo turned on.

Being religious, I could also see him taking the opportunity to properly attend mass or go to confession when he does have the time off.

For some reason, I also see Saeyoung as having hobbies that use his hands, particularly model building or even something like Lego building, and could see him potentially taking the time to indulge in that hobby.

However, if we're after certain parts of the story, and Saeran is actively back in his life, I do see Seven devoting most of his off-time to doing things with Saeran and catching up on all the lost years the two didn't have time together in.

[staringamassivemistakeintheface]

I wrote this around midnight last night, mixing the clear exhaustion in Tango’s voice after working on DO for what must’ve been at least six hours and vague wonderings about how Mrs. T would factor into in-game reality when she’s not a player. As usual, I make no promises about quality.

It had been awhile since he was reduced to this state. As Decked Out had neared completion, he'd started catching up on sleep, trying to look presentable for the main event. But little problems piled up and turned into big ones, and his attempt to fix a glitch created a much larger issue, and he had twenty (or twenty thousand) things on his plate still... So here he was. Elbow-deep in redstone wiring, long after the last Hermit had turned in for the night, trying to remember what he was fixing.

Tango? He didn't even acknowledge the voice. It wasn't the first time he experienced auditory hallucinations, though normally it took a week or so of sleep deprivation. Was the card-calling working? Joe had run earlier, and it had worked, but something could've happened since then. He'd also brought those splash potions for the ravagers, which was very kind of him. Would they work on Wardens as well? Pain was still taking damage from an unknown source, and he needed to make sure that there weren't more escapes. He fumbled for his elytra and fireworks, trying to untangle himself and fly over to Level 3...

Tango. You're spiraling. Now he recognized the voice. The ephemeral presence that always had his back. She was as real as any of the Hermits, and they whole-heartedly agreed with him. He didn't overthink the implications of her existence, trusting in the part of him that was separate from what he knew. All he needed to know is that she completed him, comforted him when he hit rock-bottom, laughed at his jokes and misfortune alike, was there for him in a way that he couldn't fathom being without.

Wow, you're really out of it, dear. Do you know how late it is? Honestly? He didn't. He knew Joe had done a run around 7, but he hadn't looked at a clock since resuming work. Who cared about that, anyways? If he didn't look at the time, he wouldn't see just how long it took to solve an issue that should've been prevented months ago. It didn't feel like it had been too long, anyways. He'd been working at a good pace, and the new ravager was in place already. But did he fix the issue with Reckless Charge? That line wasn't too far away...

It's almost 4 in the morning, you shouldn't be handling explosives. Regrettably, she was right; he'd almost equipped his elytra fatally incorrectly, thoughts racing (wandering, really) miles ahead of his hand-eye coordination. He could still walk, though, or at least sort through the statistics given to him by the viewers. There was so much left to do, if he could only keep his eyes focused on the line in front of him and where to redirect it...

You're exhausted. Come on, love. A gentle, familiar tug on his wrist guided him out of the maze of redstone lines and audio systems, lovingly ignoring his half-coherent protests. He leaned into the touch anyways, needing something to ground himself amidst the abstract whirlwind of panic and partially-finished items on the list (in reality, they were almost all complete, but that felt impossible to comprehend). Plans sketched and resketched themselves in his head as he was led to his storage room, Clank increased with endermites — no, wolves — no, blazes — no, floors dropping out — no...

His knees hit the edge of his bed, and he collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut. All the desperation that had kept him going seeped out from his bones, leaving him exhausted and hollow. He felt her subtle warmth and presence curling around him, the hand on his shoulder promising rest. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a sob escaped him; he'd poured so much of himself into this, and he was so incredibly, deeply tired.

I know. Tomorrow is another day. Just rest for now. Knowing fingers started gently running through his hair as he closed his eyes, sinking into the sensations of being loved and cared for.