#trying a different thing with the background

[fearecia]

Huh. Yeah. Far as I know, this isn't a common thing in the US. But also, neither is taking off your shoes when you go inside (though that seems to be a bit more common, depending on the household).

Are you in the US? Are your parents from another culture? This mindset screams "Japanese" to me, but that's probably because I associate the whole "you have inside shoes and outside shoes and never shall the two be confused" with Japanese culture. I also associate the willingness to wear masks when ill with them as well*. So I'm wondering if you grew up in a family with a different cultural background and that's why you're facing what I would consider to be "culture shock."

Conversely, I've worked in healthcare. And it ironically had kind of the opposite effect on me. Like, after the literal shit I've been exposed to, I'm seriously not worried about what's in the general environment. Of course I still wash my hands whenever I'm doing food prep, but I'm generally not worried about it when I'm out in public. I sort of consider anything I come into contact with as a way to keep my immune system trained up and active so that I'm less likely to get sick. Exposure therapy, if you will. That doesn't apply to anything obviously disgusting; I keep my hands to myself and avoid touching excess stuff. I also don't just go out to go out, so there's a lot less exposure in general for me, so that may play into things. ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯

Of course I'm super OCD about washing my hands whenever I'm doing anything healthcare/client/other people related. I'm just less concerned in general about myself, if that makes any sense.

*Please note that I am terrible at differentiating all peoples and cultures ftom each other and I'm very well aware of it. My labels are very often wrong/incorrect/likely fueled by bad stereotypes. I'm only associating this with Japanese peoples and their culture because my brain is screaming that it's isolated to them and not a generalized Asian cultural mindset, and I'm half remembering images from some educational show about it. Please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, but know that I'm not trying to be an ass. This is one of those things where because my brain has not had a good reason/enough exposure to all the distinctions, it positively refuses to remember things, and I constantly get stuck in generalizations. No offense intended, I swear.

I'm also face blind and literally cannot physically tell the difference between different peoples, so that doesn't help either.

in the vein of "how do you stay safe from getting sick", I wanna say that something I always noticed as a kid was that a lot of the time when I went to people's houses and we would leave at some point to the mall or the park or something and then come back home…I don't remember any of them washing their hands when we got back inside. they'd just immediately lead me back to their room or the living room or something, and then I'd feel incredibly self-conscious about going to their bathroom to wash my own hands. and I always thought it was absolutely bizarre because the way I was raised, the first thing you do when you come back home after taking your shoes and jacket off is go wash your hands. it's common sense. why on planet earth would you not wash your hands. you've just been touching a hundred public surfaces that could have anything on them and you think as soon as you set foot in your own house all the germs you've picked up just evaporate? it's absolutely insane to me to know that so many people don't bother washing their hands. WASH YOUR HANDS.

[goblin-jr]

And then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you. 

Part 6 of 12

Synopsis: Surfing lessons and more confessions (shocker)

Pairing: unrequited JJ x Reader, Eventual Rafe x Reader

masterlist

—--

Y/N glanced at her phone with a sigh, wondering if it was just another reminder of her complicated feelings. But instead, her screen lit up with a name she hadn’t expected. Rafe Cameron

She frowned at first, thinking it was some weird mistake. Rafe? Why would he be texting her this late? Her finger hovered over the screen, hesitant, before she swiped to open the message. 

Rafe: Midnight drive?

Her brows furrowed. Midnight? Was he serious? Y/N looked at the clock—she wasn’t really tired, but the last thing she expected tonight was an invitation from him. 

Y/N: How did you get my number?

She typed quickly, half-joking, half-curious, but honestly, more interested than she’d like to admit. She almost deleted it, but the words were out before she could stop herself. 

The reply came almost instantly, and she couldn’t help but laugh at his reply.

Rafe: Don’t worry about it.

Y/N rolled her eyes, smiling despite herself. The guy was insufferable, but also oddly charming in a way that caught her off guard. She sat back in her chair, contemplating for a moment. What could it hurt? She was used to hanging out with the Pogues at all hours of the night anyway. This wouldn’t be any different. 

Still, she had to tease him a little.

Y/N: You logged on to the country club’s computer, didn’t you?

She waited, half-expecting him to respond with something smug and condescending. Instead, the reply was simpler. A smiley face emoji with a single word: 

Rafe: Maybe.

Y/N let out a breath, part exasperated, part amused. The fact that he was so cryptic made her want to know more, but she wasn’t about to let him get under her skin so easily. She typed back quickly, deciding to go with it.

Y/N: You’re lucky I’m bored. I’ll meet you out front in 10.

Without waiting for a response, she tossed her phone on her bed and stood up, running her fingers through her hair. She grabbed her jacket from the back of the door and slipped into something comfortable enough to hang out, but still warm enough for a late-night drive.

---

A few minutes later, Y/N was standing outside, the cool night air ruffling her hair. Her heart raced a little—not from nervousness, but from the odd excitement she felt at the thought of going out with Rafe. Maybe it was because she never really got the chance to talk to him in the way she wanted to. Or maybe it was just the spontaneity of it all. 

The headlights of his car cut through the dark before she heard the engine, and Rafe’s sleek black car rolled up to the curb. He leaned over from the driver’s side and rolled down the window, looking effortlessly cool as usual.

“Hop in, princess. You ready for an adventure?” His grin was playful, and Y/N couldn’t help but shake her head in disbelief at his arrogance.

“You really think I’m going to get in that car after you—” Y/N started, but Rafe cut her off with a raised eyebrow.

“I promise I won’t bite,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Unless you want me to.”

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. She slid into the passenger seat, rolling her eyes as she buckled up. “You’re unbelievable.”

“That’s why you like me.” He winked, his grin still wide. “But seriously, you up for a drive around the island?”

She shrugged, trying to seem casual, though she felt a bit of a flutter in her stomach. “Sure. Why not? What else is there to do around here?”

Rafe nodded approvingly as he shifted the car into gear, and they were off, the soft hum of the engine the only sound for a while.

The drive was slow at first, the cool breeze from the windows mixing with the music playing softly in the background. Y/N looked out the window at the familiar sights of the Outer Banks—everything she’d grown up with, but somehow different tonight. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, trying to ease the silence. “You just wanted to drive around and look at the stars?”

“Nah.” Rafe chuckled, his eyes glinting as he focused on the road. “I thought maybe you could use a little excitement. Besides, I thought you might want to take a break from the whole Pogue routine for a change.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are you implying the Pogues are boring?”

“Not boring,” he said, his voice turning mock serious. “Just predictable. Plus, it’s nice to hang out with someone who doesn’t have the same baggage as the rest of them.”

Y/N considered this for a moment, then shrugged. “Fair point. But we all have our baggage, don’t we?”

Rafe glanced at her, a flicker of something in his eyes. “True,” he agreed quietly. “But I think you’re a little more... chill about it than the others.”

“Maybe.” She let out a soft laugh, feeling the tension between them lighten just a bit. “I’m just used to it by now. Besides, everyone’s got their own mess to deal with.”

Rafe nodded, his gaze on the road as they sped through the dark, but Y/N could sense that he was thinking about something deeper, something personal. The moment was quiet, comfortable in its own way, until he spoke again, his tone a little more vulnerable this time.

“Do you ever think about what happens after we graduate? What’s next?”

Y/N turned toward him, surprised by the question. It was a conversation she wasn’t prepared to have, but it felt oddly important.

“Yeah,” she said slowly. “I think about it all the time. Like, what’s out there beyond this island? But then I remember that I don’t really know if I’m ready to leave.”

Rafe’s lips quirked into a soft smile, but his eyes were faraway, distant. “I get that. For me, though, it’s... it’s more about living up to what my family expects. You know?”

Y/N nodded, even though she wasn’t sure she understood completely. But she could sense the pressure in his words, the weight of his own struggles. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I can imagine that.”

The car fell into silence for a while as Rafe focused on the road, and Y/N sat back, thinking about everything he’d just said. For a moment, the world felt smaller, simpler—just the two of them driving through the night, talking about things they didn’t normally share.

The car pulled into a secluded spot near the beach, the wheels crunching softly against the gravel as Rafe parked. For a moment, the only sounds were the hum of the engine winding down and the waves crashing against the shore.

Y/N looked out the window, feeling the familiar pull of the ocean, but also the strange quietness that accompanied being out here at this hour. She wasn’t sure what Rafe had in mind, but she wasn’t complaining. The night felt open, full of possibilities.

“Come on.” Rafe slid out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him, and walked over to the trunk, pulling out two surfboards.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What are you, some kind of surfing guru now?” she called out, a teasing smile spreading across her face. 

Rafe turned to face her with a grin, his eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight. “I’ve been doing this for years. Figured I’d teach you a thing or two.” He tossed one of the boards toward her, and she caught it easily, though the weight of it surprised her a little.

She shot him a skeptical look, but as usual, Rafe wasn’t one to back down from a challenge. 

“JJ tried to teach me when I was younger,” she said, stepping out of the car and slinging the surfboard over her shoulder. “Let’s just say it didn’t go well.”

Rafe’s smirk widened. “What happened? He let you fall off on purpose?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but laugh. “Something like that. He never really took it seriously.”

“Well, I’m serious,” Rafe said, his tone suddenly more intense, though his smile remained. “And maybe you’ll have a better chance with me. Who knows?”

Y/N laughed softly, her thoughts momentarily drifting to JJ and the way things had shifted between them recently. After she left his home the night of Luke’s outburst things went back to normal quickly and that night was never brought up again. The pogues never changed, with Pope worrying about his summer reading and John B disappearing for hours citing a mystery that needs solving as a reason. JJ’s tour guide business was booming and he went back to eyeing Kie at group hangouts. This combination left Y/N wanting to see the group less and less. She shook her head, pushing the thoughts aside for now. 

“So, what’s the plan?” Y/N asked, setting her board down on the sand. “We just gonna swim out and start paddling like a couple of idiots?”

Rafe snorted. “Pretty much. But you’ve gotta get the basics down first, and then we’ll take it from there.”

She turned to face him, eyeing the water in front of them. It looked calm enough, but she knew how deceptive the ocean could be. Still, the thought of being out there with Rafe, even with the awkwardness she sometimes felt around him, was strangely comforting.

They waded into the water, the cold ocean waves crashing around their ankles, and Y/N tried to keep her balance as she adjusted the surfboard beneath her feet. 

“You remember the basics?” Rafe asked, his voice quieter now, as though he was assessing her readiness.

Y/N nodded, though she didn’t feel particularly confident. “I remember enough to fall flat on my face.”

Rafe chuckled, stepping up beside her. “Don’t worry. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

There was something in his voice that made her look at him, really look at him, for the first time in a while. His demeanor wasn’t just cocky—it was calm, almost protective. And for a moment, Y/N felt the weight of the night and the change in their relationship.

“I’m not a total beginner, you know,” she said, trying to hide the sudden feeling of vulnerability. “I’ll probably wipe out once or twice, but I’ll figure it out.”

Rafe shot her a sidelong glance. “I’m not worried. You’ve got a good attitude. You’ll get it.”

He stood beside her, both of them paddling out toward the deeper water. The quiet was nice, just the sound of their boards slicing through the water and the rhythmic rush of the ocean around them. 

As they reached the spot where the waves began to form, Rafe turned to her, his expression serious. “Okay, Y/N. I’m gonna have you paddle and pop up at the same time. It’s all about timing.” 

Y/N nodded, already feeling a little nervous. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she trusted Rafe, even if she didn’t fully understand why. She had a feeling he was trying to teach her more than just surfing. But she wasn’t going to think too hard about that right now.

“Ready?” Rafe asked, his gaze meeting hers. There was something reassuring in his eyes, though it was quickly masked by his usual cocky grin. 

“Yeah,” she said, nodding again. “Let’s do it.”

He paddled toward the first incoming wave, signaling her to follow suit. The water seemed to move with a kind of rhythm, and for a moment, Y/N felt herself getting caught up in it, the tension in her body releasing as she focused on the task at hand. The world outside of them—the drama, the confusion with JJ, everything—seemed to blur. All that mattered was the wave in front of her.

“Don’t forget the pop-up!” Rafe’s voice cut through the night, just as she felt the first wave start to pull her forward. She barely managed to push herself up onto the board, her body feeling stiff as she tried to find her balance. 

For a second, she was standing, and she thought maybe this was going to work. But just as quickly, she lost her balance and crashed down into the water with a loud splash.

She resurfaced, laughing at herself. “Well, that didn’t work.”

Rafe was already paddling back toward her, grinning. “Don’t worry, that’s the first try. You’re getting the hang of it.”

Y/N wiped water from her eyes, giving him an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “If you say so. You should’ve seen the way JJ taught me. At least I’m not face planting into the sand.”

Rafe laughed, his voice warmer than she expected. “Hey, you’re doing better than I thought you would.”

Y/N smiled, feeling more at ease than she had in a while. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t caught up in her head about JJ or the others. She was just... here, with Rafe. 

They tried again, and though Y/N wiped out once more, the sense of accomplishment from even attempting it felt good. Rafe stayed close, offering tips and words of encouragement that felt different from what she’d gotten in the past.

“Want to try again?” he asked, his voice softer this time, more serious than before. There was something in the way he looked at her, something almost protective, like he wanted her to succeed, not just because of surfing, but because he genuinely cared.

Y/N nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

They spent the next hour on the water, laughing, talking, and occasionally falling, but each time, she felt herself getting a little better, a little more comfortable. Rafe didn’t push too hard, but he kept her focused, making sure she understood the mechanics of it.

By the time they made their way back to the beach, Y/N felt like she’d learned something more than just surfing. Maybe it was the way Rafe had opened up, or maybe it was the shared experience of being out there at night, away from everything. Either way, she knew that things were changing between them.

And though she didn’t realize it yet, Rafe was beginning to feel something too. But that was a thought he wasn’t ready to confront—at least not tonight.

---

Y/N flopped down onto the sand, stretching out her legs and feeling the coolness of the sand seep through her damp clothes. She let out a contented sigh, her heart still racing from the thrill of the waves. Rafe dropped down beside her with a light thud, wiping his wet hair out of his eyes.

“Okay, not gonna lie, I was expecting a lot more flailing,” Rafe teased, leaning back on his elbows and looking over at her. “I’m impressed. You only wiped out... what, three times?”

Y/N shot him a playful glare. “Excuse me? It was four. I’m counting the time I almost stayed on, but then I hit that stupid wave and face-planted.”

Rafe chuckled, his usual confident grin slipping into something more genuine. “Well, in that case, you deserve an award for ‘Most Improved.’ From barely standing to almost staying on? That’s basically a pro.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Oh, sure. ‘Most Improved.’ What’s next? ‘Most Likely to Get Pushed into the Water by Rafe?’”

“Now that would be an award you’d win,” Rafe quipped, his grin widening. “But you have to admit, you’ve come a long way from your first wave.”

Y/N groaned at the memory. “Ugh, don’t remind me. JJ was a terrible teacher. It was just ‘don’t fall,’ ‘good luck,’ and ‘try not to drown.’ He might as well have handed me a board and told me to figure it out myself.”

Rafe let out a soft laugh, but his eyes softened a little. “Well, you didn’t drown. That’s something. You might’ve had a few wipeouts, but hey, that’s surfing.”

Y/N gave him a sidelong glance. “You say that like you didn’t totally bail on that last wave too.”

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Hey, that was just an elaborate move to give you more space to shine. Didn’t want to make it too obvious I was carrying you through the session.”

Y/N snorted. “Oh, so now I’m ‘shining,’ huh? I thought I was the one struggling to stay upright.”

Rafe’s grin was playful, teasing her. “Well, you were struggling. But I like to think I was a good influence on your, uh, form. You should be thanking me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, though her voice was warm. “I’ll put it on my ‘thank you’ list. Right after thanking JJ for almost making me break my neck out there.”

“See? If you’d just let me teach you from the start, you wouldn’t have needed to almost break anything,” Rafe shot back with a raised eyebrow, a little spark of humor in his eyes. “We could’ve avoided all the drama.”

Y/N laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Sure, next time I’ll take you up on that offer. But for now, let’s just pretend you didn’t totally bail in front of me.”

“Only because I didn’t want to make you feel bad about your wipeouts,” Rafe said with a smirk, nudging her with his shoulder. “You know, being a good friend and all.”

Y/N scoffed, nudging him back. “Uh-huh. Sure, let’s stick with that story. So, what else do you teach, besides making excuses for bad surfing?”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with amusement, but then, for a moment, his expression softened. He leaned back, staring out at the water, his tone shifting slightly.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect to be out here tonight. It feels good, though... getting away from everything.”

Y/N noticed the change in his voice but didn’t push it. Instead, she gave him a teasing grin. “What, the great expectations of your perfect life getting to you?”

He shot her a quick glance, a mix of amusement and something else she couldn’t quite place. “Something like that. It’s just... a lot. You know, with grade 12 and all that comes with it. I can’t even think straight sometimes. University stuff, family, the whole ‘do everything perfectly’ thing.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “I thought you had it all figured out. You’re the guy everyone looks up to, right?”

Rafe scoffed lightly. “Yeah, right. I’m just really good at pretending I have it together.”

“Seems to be working for you,” Y/N said with a grin, nudging him again. “You’ve got that ‘I’m a cool, chill guy who doesn’t care about anything’ vibe down.”

He laughed at that, but it was quieter, less confident than usual. “Guess I’m really good at that too. But... the truth is, I don’t feel that way a lot. Like, I feel like everyone’s counting on me to know what comes next, and I don’t.”

Y/N paused, her playful grin faltering for a moment. “You mean... your family’s putting pressure on you?”

Rafe’s gaze flickered to the horizon, his expression distant for a moment. “Yeah. They have their whole life planned out for me. The best schools, the right job, the perfect future. It’s like... I’m supposed to fit into this box they’ve already decided for me, and I’m not even sure it’s the one I want.”

Y/N shifted, sitting up straighter as she looked at him, her teasing smile fading into something more thoughtful. “That’s... a lot to deal with,” she said quietly, her voice softening. “I mean, I get it. Parents want the best for you, but they don’t always get to decide what’s best for you, you know?”

Rafe gave her a dry laugh, glancing sideways at her. “Yeah, that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want. It’s like, the more I think about it, the more it feels like I’m just... following a script. I don’t even know who I am outside of what they expect from me.”

Y/N studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing in thought before she gave him a gentle, almost teasing smile. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don’t know what I want either. I think the whole world’s just kind of... winging it, you know? Maybe that’s the point. Not everything needs to be figured out right now.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, surprised by her response. “You don’t know either?”

She shrugged, a little smile playing on her lips. “I’m not pretending to have it all together. Who does? I’m just... trying to figure it out day by day. And honestly, I think you’ll get there. I mean, yeah, your family’s expectations suck, but they don’t have to define what you’re capable of. If you want to follow your own path, you can.”

He looked at her with a slightly skeptical look, then shook his head. “It’s not that simple.”

Y/N leaned back on her elbows, looking out at the waves, her voice more serious now. “No, it’s not. But that doesn’t mean it’s impossible. You’re not stuck with whatever they decide for you. You’re still young, you still have time to figure out who you are and what you want. It might take a while, and that’s okay.”

Rafe absorbed her words, his gaze still distant but a little less guarded now. “Yeah... I guess you're right. It's just hard to shake that feeling, like I'm already behind, you know? Like everyone else has it figured out.”

Y/N gave him a wry smile, nudging him with her foot. “You’re not behind. You’re just... not living in anyone else’s idea of what your life should be. That’s actually pretty damn impressive.”

Rafe snorted, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly in a half-smile. “Impressive, huh?”

“Yeah. Seriously. Not everyone can walk away from a path that’s already paved for them. Takes guts,” she said with a grin. “And maybe the fact that you’re thinking about it at all means you’re already ahead of the game. Everyone else is just... stuck in their little boxes.”

Rafe let out a long breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re way more insightful than I give you credit for.”

Y/N shrugged, still smirking. “It’s what I do. But, seriously, Rafe... don’t let anyone else decide for you. If you need to figure it out on your own, take the time. You’re allowed to take the time.”

He looked at her for a moment, clearly processing her words. “Thanks, Y/N. I needed to hear that.”

Y/N smiled back, her voice softening again. “Anytime. You’re not alone in this, okay?”

Rafe nodded, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

She leaned back, turning her attention back to the ocean. “Well, if you’re ever in doubt, just remember: I’m always around to tell you how awesome you are... even if you do try to bail on waves every now and then.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, now we’re back to you being a smartass. Much better.”

Y/N grinned, glad to see him lightening up again. “Hey, someone’s got to keep you in check.”

—-

A few days later, y/n found herself in the usual chaos of the Pogues. They gathered in the backyard of the Chateau, the soft hum of late-night music mixing with the sound of laughter and bickering for the first time since the bonfire. Everyone seemed to be in their element—JJ and Pope were in the middle of some heated debate about which local spot had the best surf conditions, Kie was perched on the porch railing, her legs swinging as she poked fun at them, and John B was sprawled across a lounge chair, half asleep, a grin on his face.

It was the same scene as any other night.

Except, for Y/N, it felt different tonight. She felt a strange detachment, like she was watching from the outside, looking in. Sure, she was there with them, part of the group, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong. The conversations felt more distant, the jokes falling flat in her mind. She realized, with a sharp pang in her chest, how much things had shifted.

There was a time when she could dive into the banter, effortlessly teasing JJ or playfully arguing with Pope about anything. But now? She felt like an intruder. She couldn’t even remember the last time JJ had cracked a joke at her expense or dragged her into one of his pointless arguments. Instead, he was laughing with Kie, his attention entirely elsewhere.

The emptiness she felt was palpable. She hadn’t been able to talk to him properly in weeks, not since everything had gotten so complicated between them. And now, when they were together, it felt as though they were both just pretending. Pretending to be okay, pretending to be friends, pretending that things weren’t hanging in the air like an unspoken truth.

The warmth of the fire pit did little to ease her discomfort as she scanned the group. They all seemed so... effortless. So natural with each other. She used to feel like she was part of that flow. But now, more than ever, Y/N felt like a ghost in the background.

She found herself looking for a way out, a way to get some space from the group, but before she could move, JJ caught her eye. He was laughing about something Pope had said, his gaze meeting hers briefly before his expression faltered. He didn’t smile at her, didn’t make a sarcastic remark like he usually would. He just... looked away.

That was it. That small action sent a wave of frustration crashing over Y/N. He hadn’t even tried to make her feel like she was still there, still part of their tight-knit group. He’d been avoiding her, sure, but now it felt like he wasn’t even trying anymore.

“Everything okay?” Kie asked softly from beside her, breaking her train of thought. She had a way of reading Y/N, always able to tell when something was off.

Y/N forced a smile, but it felt weak. “Yeah, just... tired,” she said, but Kie wasn’t fooled.

“You sure?” she pressed, eyes narrowing with concern.

“I’m fine,” Y/N replied quickly, but her voice lacked the conviction she had hoped it would carry. She just didn’t know how to explain it, not without diving into a conversation that she wasn’t sure she was ready to have yet.

Kie, still watching her with a skeptical look, didn’t press further, but Y/N could feel the unspoken question between them. Was it about JJ? Was it about the way he’d been pulling away from her? Or was it about something deeper that even she didn’t want to admit to herself?

The moment stretched too long, and Y/N, desperate to break the silence, stood up abruptly, brushing the dirt off her jeans. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” she muttered, before walking away without waiting for a response.

The air by the dock was cooler, a sharp contrast to the heat of the fire pit. She walked aimlessly around the yard, her thoughts spinning in a whirlwind. It felt like everything was unraveling, and she had no control over any of it.

Before she knew it, JJ was behind her, his footsteps quick and urgent as he caught up. “Hey,” he said softly, the warmth of his voice a stark contrast to the tension she felt. “You good?”

Y/N turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. She wanted to tell him everything, to scream and throw all her emotions at him, but instead, she held back. She didn’t want to be the one to make the first move, not anymore.

“I’m fine,” she said again, but this time, her words felt hollow.

JJ didn’t buy it. “You’re not fine, Y/N. What’s going on?”

Y/N wanted to ignore him, to walk away, but the words had already started spilling out before she could stop them. “What’s going on? Really, JJ? You’ve barely spoken to me in weeks. You’ve been so distant. I feel like I don’t even exist to you anymore.”

He flinched at her words, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about? We’ve been hanging out. We’re all good, right?”

“Are we?” Y/N shot back, the hurt bleeding into her voice. “Because it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. We went from spending every minute together to barely seeing each other. You don’t even try to talk to me anymore, and when you do, it’s like you’re doing it out of obligation.”

JJ’s expression flickered, his jaw tightening as he stepped closer to her. He had a way of getting in her space, of making her feel like his presence was a force she couldn’t escape, even when she wanted to.

“You think I’m doing this on purpose? You think I want things to be like this?” His voice was quieter now, but there was an edge to it, a mix of frustration and guilt.

Y/N shook her head, her chest tightening with every word she spoke. “I don’t know, JJ. I don’t know what you want from me anymore. You’ve got this whole life that’s just... different from mine, and you’re pushing me out. You don’t get it.”

For a moment, JJ just stood there, his eyes scanning her face, as if trying to figure out what she meant. “So, what? You’re mad at me because I’ve been focused on other things?”

Y/N’s frustration boiled over. “I’m not mad, JJ. I’m just... tired. Tired of trying to hold onto something that isn’t there anymore.”

The silence stretched out between them. JJ opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Y/N blurted out the words she’d been holding back for far too long.

“I love you, okay? I love you, and it’s breaking me that you can’t see me anymore. I used to be your best friend, JJ. But now? I’m just someone you pass by when it’s convenient.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw. For a moment, JJ didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just stared at her, his face a mixture of surprise and something else—something she couldn’t name.

And then, without a word, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out, fingers brushing against her arm, pulling her gently toward him. She could feel his breath against her skin, his body close enough that it should have felt comforting, but instead, it felt like an intrusion.

His lips hovered near hers, but there was no fire in his touch. No spark of longing. Just... guilt. Obligation.

Y/N pulled away quickly, her heart racing. “Don’t,” she whispered fiercely, her voice trembling. “Don’t do that. Don’t kiss me because you feel sorry for me.”

JJ’s eyes hardened, his jaw clenching as he stepped back. “You think I’m just pitying you?” he spat, his anger simmering beneath the surface. “You think I’m that much of an asshole?”

“I don’t know what you are anymore,” Y/N said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m done trying to make sense of this. You don’t get to just kiss me when you feel like it and then ignore me when it’s convenient. I deserve more than that, JJ.”

He took a step back, his face dark with fury. “You’re unbelievable, Y/N. I don’t know what you want from me, but I’m done with this.”

Y/N stood there, chest heaving, as JJ stormed off, his steps heavy against the grass. The door slammed behind him, leaving Y/N standing alone, her words still echoing in the silence.

She had said it. She had finally said it. And now, there was nothing left to do but walk away.

---

Next up: the scene that inspired this fic

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Taglist:

@hockeybabe87 , @idiotussupremus , @certifiedhaters , @oatmealisweird, @sluggmuffin

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A/N: I wrote this chapter last night at 2 then woke up and read through it with the shocked pikachu face

[sacrednova]

Drive me home | Simon "Ghost" Riley | 5

fem!reader | In this story, a young woman mistakenly texts Simon "Ghost" Riley, thinking he's her Uber driver after a wild night out. Despite his gruff, reserved nature, Simon shows up. Contains fake screenshots with texts messages and calls!!!! Start reading from the beginning: Part 1 | Part 2 | part 3 | Part 4

Back to that night, (morning to him), Simon barely had time to process the call, dripping water onto the floor as he wrapped a towel around his waist. Her number flashed on the screen, but the voice on the other end wasn’t hers—it was one of her friends, slurring and calling him “Uber.” He was about to hang up, shake off this bizarre interruption to his night, when he heard her laugh in the background. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he missed.

And just like that, the memory flooded back—the way she had looked lying there in her bed, still half-dreaming, the way her hair spread across the pillow like some kind of halo. Her eyes, when they met his, had held something he couldn’t ignore, something that lingered long after he’d driven away that morning.

He closed his eyes, took a slow breath. Why was he even entertaining this? There was no denying it: he was interested, if only a little. But enough to look for her, to chase her? No, not exactly. Still, this was an opportunity, wasn’t it? A coincidence that didn’t require him to make any choices, just… to drive, to be there.

As he finished getting ready, he shot a quick text to Johnny, letting him know he’d be running late to base. Unsurprisingly, Johnny was quick to pick up on it.

Simon huffed at the message. He could practically hear Johnny’s smirk.

And with that, he slipped on a face mask, pulled a black cap low over his eyes, and buttoned up his uniform. He wasn’t about to make a habit of this—but one more night? That he could handle.

As he pulled up to the curb, he could already hear her friends talking—half-laughing, half-teasing. Their voices carried that messy excitement of a night spent a little too deep in the bottle, and he could hear his name on their lips, thrown around in a way that would have made most men’s egos soar. But when he saw her there, cheeks flushed, head ducked as her friends nudged her with conspiratorial glances, it felt… different. Pride crept up on him, sure, but it wasn’t the familiar, shallow kind he usually felt in these situations. She wasn’t just another face in a line of passing encounters, and the idea of seeing her as a one-night fling felt wrong. Somehow, he knew she’d never fit into that category, not for him.

Still, he felt the pull—the impulse to admire her, take in every detail, imagine the things he was barely allowing himself to think about. But more than that, he wanted to hear her talk, to get lost in the way she rambled and blushed, her boldness dipping in and out like a tide. It was maddening and frustrating, but even more, it was addictive.

“Right?” he thought to himself, as if needing the reassurance. I just want to hear her talk. Right?

Then again… maybe that wasn't all. He clenched his jaw, fighting off the surge of thoughts that threatened to pull him down a familiar path.

And when she slipped out of his truck, the look on her face settled like a weight in his chest—a fleeting disappointment, a shadow of hurt. He hadn’t meant it that way; he’d just been honest. He didn’t do well with calls, or texts, or… whatever this was supposed to be. Keeping distance was safer, for both of them. But somehow, seeing that expression made him feel like he’d fumbled it all.

Bloody hell, he thought, dragging a hand over his face. He was trying to keep things simple, keep his boundaries intact, avoid this tangled mess he knew he’d only ruin. But the second those words slipped out—“I like bourbon”—the guard he’d tried so hard to hold was gone.

Why did he say that? Why couldn’t he just let her leave with a clean goodbye? He should have known better. He did know better. But she’d left something unsteady in his mind, a tug he couldn’t shake. He wanted her close, yet something dark and heavy in him kept holding him back, whispering the same, cold refrain: You don’t deserve a good thing.

For a man who thrived on control, this was chaos. And maybe that was what scared him most—how badly he wanted her, despite everything that told him he shouldn’t.

He gripped the wheel tighter, jaw clenched, as if forcing himself to stay grounded could untangle his mind. Get it together, Riley. But her message kept replaying in his head, “It’s a date.”

His pulse jumped every time he thought about it, a strange thrill running under his skin that he couldn’t explain. Adrenaline was familiar—this wasn’t that. It was something sharper, laced with a damn feeling he’d barely let himself acknowledge. Anticipation, maybe. But did she actually mean a date with him? What did she see here, in a man like him, someone who came and went, who’d never had more to offer than a night or two and a silent exit?

He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. You’re thinking too far. But it nagged at him—some reckless part of him considering more than a single night, something deeper. Get a grip. He shouldn’t be thinking about seeing her again, about anything more. Yet somehow, the thought of something real with her felt like a dangerous promise, and he wasn’t sure if he was more afraid of letting her down… or of wanting it for himself.

The days that followed felt like a haze, each one blending into the next as if time itself had twisted around them. She was nearly losing her mind in disbelief, clutching her phone every so often just to make sure she hadn’t imagined their exchange. A date with him, she thought, her heart racing each time she saw that simple, blunt text: “It is.”

On the other end, Simon was in his worst mood all week. He’d been restless, short-tempered, and on edge—a state Soap noticed immediately. Every comment, every offhand remark seemed to hit him wrong, and the last thing he needed was Soap’s relentless needling.

Late Wednesday night, Simon had just returned from a brutal day—one that included nearly getting himself buried alive thanks to a reckless mission. As he tried to settle his mind, Soap’s text popped up.

Simon stared at the word, letting it sink in, and he felt that twinge again. “Ghosted me.”

It hit harder than it should have. He clenched his jaw, then tapped back a quick reply, unable to shake the memory of her voice, almost uncertain but trying to laugh off the sting when she’d said it.

Soap’s response came immediately, and Simon could almost hear his laugh through the screen.

Simon scowled, but the explanation hit home. He didn’t mean to disappear on her. He just… hadn’t known how to continue, how to deal with whatever was stirring up inside him. He was used to being here one day, gone the next—no strings, no complications.

But it was her voice, that small crack in it, that was stuck in his head. And something about the thought of her feeling hurt, thinking he’d just dismissed her, made his chest tighten with a strange guilt.

He shot another reply to Soap.

Simon stared at his phone, that unwanted little spark of irritation pricking at him. Soap had always had a knack for prying at the worst times. But this time, Simon didn’t answer. Instead, he sat there, his thumb hovering over the screen, his thoughts circling back to her words.

The days leading up to Friday felt like a fever dream. She couldn’t focus, her mind looping back to him at the worst times. She was texting Lottie about outfits all week, messaging in frantic bursts:

Lottie’s replies came just as fast:

And then Friday came. The second she opened her eyes, her stomach was tight with nerves. She was sweating through her day, fussing over every tiny detail, trying to push away the flustered feeling every time she thought about him. Why was she this worked up over a guy like him? He wasn’t anything like the men she usually went for, and honestly, he was a mystery—never showed his face, never even gave her the faintest hint that he might be interested. But… maybe, just maybe she’d missed the little signs he had given.

Because that thing about bourbon—was that a sign? And the fact that he actually drove her and her friends home that night?

Maybe, in his all-serious, closed-off way, he was giving her hints. And maybe, she just needed to be a little patient, to take things slow.

She wanted this. Wanted him. And maybe, against all her own warnings, she wanted it to be more than just one night.

By 19:00, she couldn’t take it anymore—she had to text him. Nerves made her fingers fly over her phone as she typed:

Before she could spiral any further, his reply came in, simple and to the point.

She bit her lip, eyes narrowing. Of course, he was that dry.

A pause, then his reply came back just as blunt.

God, he was so direct. So dry. And she couldn’t help it—she loved it.

@sleep101

I am posting this story on AO3 too; CLICK HERE TO SEE IT! (I always post here first)

[glitter-stained]

Agreed! And personally when I say he should mess up, he should mess up greatly. This is probably because I'm starved for representation of abuse that doesn't portraits abusers as monsters evidently evil and full of ill intent, but I'm totally down for abusive Bruce Wayne. Yeah, sure, have the literal Batman berate and psychologically abuse his kids, neglect to address super important stuff in their background only for it to blow up in your face when they're confronted with it on the field, I'm even down for him to hurt his kids! As long as the narrative doesn't agree with it.

The thing is, with the narrative (and some takes from some very hardcore fans) is "this isn't actually abuse because you're missing key context". And then you look up and the context can be super complicated, with a whole lot of intense stuff going on, and it can be a very good explanation for what is happening, and it is still abuse. I think the issue is with the portrayal we usually have of it we see "abusive" as a personality trait, something really bad people do. It's safe, and comfortable, and it allows us to feel comfortable in our knowledge that because we're trying our best, we couldn't possibly accidentally become abusive. And on that ground, it's perfectly valid to refuse your childhood hero being some terrible monster who hits his kids! But the thing is, abuse isn't a personality trait, it's an action, and actions are extremely context dependent. If you're in an extremely high emotional situation, and trying to handle three different crises at once, and your child is being intrusive while you just need some space and you're mental ill and having an episode and you hit your child -that is still physical abuse. (And yeah, you can also abuse your adult children). And that means you have to acknowledge that it was abuse and it hurt them and you shouldn't have done it. What that doesn't mean is you have to define yourself as a horrible person and a failed parent.

The danger resides in two complementary courses of thinking that follow from these ideas :

1. abusers are awful and terrible. + i hurt my child, doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse. + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define myself just based on that action while ignoring the context = I don't fit my conception of an abusive person because of the context = the context means that I wasn't abusive = the context justifies taking actions that would be usually characterized as abusive => chronicization of abuse.

2. abusers are awful and terrible. + my parent hurt me doing something that follows usual definitions of child abuse + I know that there was a lot of context going on and I feel like it's not fair to define my parent, whomst I love and consider good, just based on that action while ignoring the context = they don't fit my characterization of abusive parents because of the context = the context means they weren't abusive = the context justifies actions that would otherwise be characterized as abusive = I wasn't actually abused = child doesn't speak up /avoids potential help/remains in the unsafe situation.

These are called justificative thoughts! And of course, we get similar thoughts in bystanders who know there's a lot of context going on, know the abuser personally etc. (They also work with intimate partner violence and even murder!) Examples include the all time famous "but he loves me!", "it's not what it looks like, she was only trying to keep me safe", "but what if I'm not stern enough and he grows up and become a criminal? He'll get hurt worse in prison, I'm protecting him!" "He can't possibly be an abuser, he's so kind! He was so sweet when he supported me after my mother died!"

The thing with the "you know I'm only doing this to protect you" line is we often know it as a very vicious manipulation technique. But it's not always the case! It's not necessarily a lie. Punitive abuse isn't (necessarily) practiced for the pleasure of hurting the child, it's a parent trying to raise their child and believing that this is the best way to teach them. That's why it's so important to acknowledge that good intentions in abuse exist and they don't justify it! Whether or not someone is lying to you, manipulating you or not when telling you this isn't what matters most: it's that right now, they feel hurting you is an acceptable way to get to that result, and it's still abusive, and you don't have to accept it just because they mean well.

So yeah, I'm pissed off when dc does exactly that, brushes Bruce being abusive aside and justifies it time and time again instead of addressing the abuse. I think the reason I personally want abusive Batman rather than a huge retcon is that a hero, someone who does so much good and tries and fights so hard to protect what he loves, someone like that failing so bad at parenting and then learning and becoming better, would have been revolutionary growing up. Still would be today, honestly. We need to humanize abuse, because we're gonna feel empathy towards abusers whether we like it or not and we have to choose if we avoid the discomfort it causes by using that empathy to justify not acknowledging the abuse, or treat abusers as human people that are capable of learning, that are sensitive to context (internal and external) and that can be, on many other fronts, perfectly good people. Instead, dc feeds us heaps of justificative thoughts like it's their personal mission because THEY have the same thoughts and don't want to contend with batman being "a dirty evil abuser" but they also love their edginess and shock value too much to stop writing conflict the only way they know how. And like, I know they're not gonna address it the way I want them to but then at least stop doing it- straight up stop portraying batman as abusive and justifying past abusive actions - and bury it under enough new, better batman/batfam stories that we can put this behind us as some kind of "edgy batman dark age". At this point that's all I'm asking, my expectations are so low but come on. I'm so tired.

The thing is that DC’s consistent choice to have Jason Todd blame himself for his own murder comes across less as maturity (the intent) and more like his self-esteem is so far down the toilet it’s been filtered through the Gotham water treatment facility and is currently being sprayed over Wayne Manor’s lawn.

[gothcsz]

part six of the neighbors series. thank you to the anon who sent this angsty prompt for getting the gears turning in my head, hehe. these two are something else, i tell ya. the miscommunication is just so... i am pushing them together forcing them to kiss at this point lol hope you guys like it 🖤 and feel free to send me more things for this little au!

javier peña x f!reader. ~2k word count. nothing too extreme to tag, it's straight up just angst and yearning.

Being with Mateo is nice, sweet even. He calls when he says he will, makes you laugh, and remembers how you take your coffee. And you really do try with him. You take interest in his hobbies, hold his hand when you’re walking down the street, and even let him take you to bed.

The sex is fine, nothing spectacular and just barely above average. Being with him is normal and safe.

But every now and then, your mind drifts to what it would be like if it was Javier in his place. You shake those thoughts off as fast as they come. If you’re going to move on, it has to be for real, not half-heartedly.

It’s a little easier to bury those feelings now that Javier is caught up in something—or someone—of his own. 

She’s over at his place constantly, her laugh sometimes drifting through the walls late at night. It feels like they’re always whispering to each other, talking until all hours, and you hate how that little spark of jealousy sits in your chest.

You catch yourself wondering what her name is, how they met, if she gets that look from him—the one that he used to give you when he’d make you laugh. 

You pass Javier in the hallway sometimes, and when he offers a half-smile and rushed, “Hey,” you return it with something tight and brief, barely meeting his gaze.

But he’s always in his own world these days, buried in work, and if he notices you distancing yourself, he doesn’t show it. Or maybe he’s too distracted to care. Either way, it reinforces the choice you’ve made to keep things this way. 

Every time you pass his closed door, you tell yourself you’re doing the right thing. Him being absent is the push you need to keep stepping back, to keep looking at apartments a few neighborhoods over, just in case.

One day, Mateo notices you’re distracted during dinner, poking at your food more than eating it. 

“Querida,” he says, nudging your hand, “you alright?”

“Yeah.” You force a smile. “Just thinking about work.” You try to shake off the odd feelings you can’t seem to put to rest—the unease of Javier wrapped up in someone else and it working for him but not for you, leaving you more restless than before.

He’s become a background hum of missed chances and bad timing.

Mateo catches the shift in your expression and rests his hand on yours. “If it’s about your place, I don’t mind helping you look around. Maybe even do a little apartment tour spree together this weekend?”

His warmth stirs something in you, a pang of guilt for not giving him the part of you that’s still tucked away. “Yeah, that sounds nice. I’d like that.” 

Javier’s schedule continues to keep him out of the complex and you can’t remember the last time you saw him at the embassy.

Granted, you work in different departments but still, there was enough overlap for you to at least catch glimpses of him throughout the day. 

There’s a wall between you two—one he doesn’t even realize is there.

One evening, as you’re walking up to your door, you hear his low voice in the hallway, murmuring something to that beautiful brunette that you feel so strongly against because of your own insecurities. 

It strikes a nerve, seeing her leaned up against his door like that with Javier crowding her, his fingers tucking a strand of her curly hair behind her ear.

They don’t even notice you and that fucking stings, then you remind yourself that you’re being ridiculous and unlock your door quickly, barely giving him a second glance when he finally turns his head to acknowledge you. You just shut your door.

Later, as you sit by your window with a glass of wine, a part of you wishes you could confront him about it—how you miss having a friend even if these feelings you’ve grown for him have tainted your friendship.

But instead, you brush it off. It’s better this way, the distance and silence. Cutting him off quietly.

You have Mateo now, and maybe in time, those feelings you’re trying to force yourself to feel for him will start to feel more real.

In the meantime, you keep Mateo close and Javier at arm’s length, praying the ache in your chest will fade into something easier to ignore.

When things with Helena spiral, Javier’s entire world dips into a darkness he struggles to fight off.

He’d been steeling himself for months, pretending that what he felt for her was just a part of the job, just another way to gather intel, to stay sharp. But things had shifted, unraveled into something he wasn’t prepared for.

She had become more than an informant; something tangible and real, someone he genuinely cared about. He should have known better than to let it get personal—mixing affection with the job, letting his heart get tangled up in a life as brutal as theirs.

It’s in the wake of this disaster that you pop into his mind again. The truth is, he’d forced you out of it completely, buried you beneath his work, his duties, his time with her.

After all, what place did someone like him, wound up in the cartel’s mess, have with someone like you? You were safe, building a life with an uppity banker, someone who could give you things Javier’s world would never allow. 

Security, stability, and something close to a normal life—things he could barely imagine anymore.

And he’d see it, too, in the way you were with Mateo. He could hear it sometimes through the walls, that light laugh of yours, the one that’d once been his to hear on a quiet afternoon or over a shared meal. Now it belonged to someone else.

Javier would watch the asshole come by, flowers in hand, gifts in his arms, looking like the kind of guy he could never be, the kind of guy you deserved.

Maybe that’s why he fell for Helena so quickly, so intensely. She was tough, resilient, unafraid of the shadows he’d cast around him. With her, he didn’t have to pretend.

They shared the same night-bound existence and he didn’t care that she was a prostitute. She understood, even when he didn’t, the danger of crossing those lines in his work, the way it weighed on him, without flinching at the blood on his hands.

But now… he’s haunted by what he should have seen coming. She’d been hurt, and every part of him feels complicit.

He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t protect himself from feeling it all in his bones, and the guilt wraps around his heart, squeezing so tight it might burst. 

The weight of it pulls him under, and he finds himself wondering how he’s going to claw his way out. His work is far from over.

He's at the bottom of a bottle of bourbon one night when he realizes just how long it's been since he’s really seen you.

The ache that realization brings feels like another knife twisting in his chest. Your bright eyes, that quirky laugh you give when he actually manages to crack you up, and the way you can turn his chaos to calm without even trying—they’ve been missing from his life for months now, and he’s feeling the loss more deeply than he wants to admit.

With sluggish, heavy steps, he staggers across his apartment until he ends up at your door. He knocks, too loudly, too long, until you swing it open, looking bleary-eyed and definitely frustrated. He’s clearly woken you up.

“Hola, cariño—”

“It’s two in the goddamn morning, Javier. ¿Qué necesitas?” 

You’ve got your arms crossed, and he blinks a few times, almost impressed with the improvement of your accent. He opens his mouth, trying to form the words, but you beat him to it, eyeing him up and down.

“Are you drunk? You reek of liquor, Peña.” Your tone is flat. “You need to go back home.”

“Te extraño,” he slurs, the words slipping out before he can stop them. “I can’t be in there another second without feelin’ like I’m losing my damn mind.”

You’re sizing him up, at a war with yourself, and he lets his gaze wander even in his bleary state. You’re wearing that familiar robe with a slip dress underneath, and he has no idea if it helps or makes things worse. 

“Then you should probably call your girl,” you say, voice cool. “Or go upstairs and bother Murphy. I have to be up early.”

You go to close the door, but his large palm spreads against it, steadying himself. “Javier—”

“Please,” he says, voice softer. “Don’t do this. Not tonight.”

For a moment, you search his eyes, your own gaze conflicted, and then, almost begrudgingly, you sigh. “Fine,” you mutter, “but you’re out by the time I’m up for work in the morning.”

You let him in, and he feels that distance in your voice like a physical wall between you. It’s his own fault—he knows it, hates it, but here you are, standing back to let him in anyway.

He stumbles, almost falling flat on his face, and your smaller hands catch him with a muttered curse. Like he’s a child.

You steer him to the couch with an exasperated huff, and even as you help him settle, he’s not sure if it’s the liquor making his chest tighten or the fact that you’re handling him with more care than he deserves. 

You wrestle him out of his jacket, tugging it from his broad shoulders, then go for his boots.

The grunts you make in effort, the feeling of your hands on him—even if it’s just to deal with his drunk ass—makes him ache in a way that alcohol only magnifies.

His thoughts drift to places they have no business going. He’d tried to move past the want he felt for you, burying it under other bodies, other names, other distractions. But here you are in a thin slip dress under your robe and all he can think about is how it’d feel to have you moving against him, to finally let his hands roam your curves, bring you pleasure and fuck you like he’s sure no man has. Not even your goody-two-shoes of a boyfriend.

Once he’s settled on your couch, you leave, only to return a moment later with a glass of water, setting it on the coffee table with a quiet sigh. “If you need to puke, please use my bathroom,” you say flatly, “not the new couch.”

“New couch?” he mumbles, sitting up on his elbows and frowning at it. “What was wrong with the old one?”

You just shake your head, the patience gone from your expression. “Goodnight, Javi,” you say flatly, but he stops you before you leave.

“Thank you for this and I’m sorry—”

“Just stop,” you cut him off with a deep sigh. “You’re always apologizing and I don’t want to hear it. Get some rest.” And then you’re gone, the door to your room closing softly but definitively behind you.

After that night, he tries to make things go back to normal but the distance that happened during that time seems impossible to close now.

Every attempt he makes to lessen it only meets the cool edge of your guarded smile or your quick, polite excuses to cut conversations short. The silence between you has settled too deeply now, like it’s found a home where friendship used to be.

He doesn’t know what to do and you’re still stuck in your forced delusion that Mateo is what you want.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️: @persephone-girl . @almostempty . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @almodovarispunk . @southernbe . @readingiskeepingmegoing . @pedrito-is-punk7 . @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler . @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 . @lover-of-books-and-tea . @samanthajonees . @dontlookatme121 . @thundermartini . @dinanabuu . @cherrysugarx . @dontlookatme121 . @sunshinefive . @angiewatson .

[racerchix21]

AITA Tommy’s Version

r/AmITheAsshole 25 minutes ago

UpInTheAir

AITA for breaking up with my partner and then calling him to say I miss you 2 hours after

TL;DR: I was a cute guys bisexual awakening, we dated for 6 months and I broke his heart to save my own broken heart later and now I miss him

I (39M) recently broke up with my partner E (33M) after 6 months of dating. We met at work and I was intrigued by him from the start. A few weeks after we met he called and asked for a tour of my job (we both work the same job just different locations). I agreed to give him a tour because I thought he was hot and I wanted to get to know him better. He offered to buy me a beer but I forgot I was supposed to go to a fight with a mutual friend D (32M) so I had to leave right after our tour.

We didn’t talk anymore after I left with D until we played basketball and E and another friend showed up. E got jealous and hit D and injured him. I took D to get looked and then after I got him squared away at home I went to E’s place to apologize where we talked and we kissed for the first time. I had to leave almost immediately after to go to work but we texted a few times.

We decided we’d do dinner and a movie for our first date and it was going well until D and his girlfriend interrupted our date and E panicked at being forced out and I decided it was time to end things for the night. I paid for dinner and left and thought that was it until he called me and asked if we could meet up again.

During the 5 days we didn’t speak he was all I could think about. I agreed to meet E for coffee after work and when I got there he told me he’d had conversations with his older sister M (44F) and D about us. He wanted a second chance and when I agreed he asked me to be his date to his sisters wedding.

We went to a failed bachelor party, I had to leave early for a work thing but while I was gone the groom went missing. He was found and the wedding went off without much more of a hitch and I got to the wedding late but E and I made out in the middle of the hospital before we joined the party.

We had a good time all summer and early this fall. We spent almost every mutual day off together and it was great. Sure we bickered occasionally but nothing really major.

At our anniversary dinner I mentioned I was engaged and that was that. A couple days after we realized we had a mutual ex and E asked me to move in with him. And I spiraled and broke up with him.

I went home and a couple hours later called him to say I missed him. His best friend answered and I could hear E in the background crying.

ItalianStallion • 23 minutes

YTA. You’re an idiot OP.

UpInTheAir • 21 minutes

So helpful

ItalianStallion • 20 minutes

I try buddy

EightPack • 19 minutes

YTA. You can probably fix it if you go get him and bring flowers

UpInTheAir • 17 minutes

You really think so?

EightPack • 12 minutes

Just go get him and tell him you love him

BuckinItUp • 24 minutes

ESH. You said you realized you had a mutual ex and then E asked you to move in?

UpInTheAir • 22 minutes

Yep

BuckinItUp • 20 minutes

I bet he’s sorry too and wants to talk to you too. Go get your man

OverTheCoop • 10 minutes

ESH. You for breaking his heart and E for asking you to move in so quickly

StuckInTheChimney • 2 minutes

YTA. Fix it and try to win him back.

Update: It’s been a year since I posted this but here’s an update for anyone curious. E and I are back together!! I just flew him to Vegas and we got married by a guy in a really bad Elvis costume.

Tagging: @rdng1230 @bangpop91 @thecarrott @cliophilyra @girlwonder-writes @desert--moonchild @thepinkcrayon @marvelousbuckley @nine-one-wanton @30somethingautisticteacher @sunnywithachanceofbi @dadbodbuck @aplaceinme @rubydaiquiri

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Can you rank the sdv bachelors/bachelorettes on who would adjust the best/worst to farm life? I'm curious on your opinion :))

Sure thing, let's do a ranking on our marriage candidates 😃 Thanks for the ask, dear anon! 🫰💕

Also, I think it's worth saying that I think all candidates will adjust well to their new life on the farm. This is where I described and judged candidates when they first moved onto the farm, from day one. This is just my opinion, so if you think differently, feel free to write about it here in replies!

_____________________________

SDV bachelors:

Shane gets a confident 8.5/10. After all, he didn't get the nickname "chicken man" for nothing, as he takes excellent care of hens on his aunt's ranch. So much so that he's bred his own breed of blue chickens! Plus, I'm sure Shane has helped Marnie take care of other animals while in the barn, and knows a fair bit about growing crops (at least his favourite hot peppers). So he will adapt almost instantly!

I'll probably get some hate for this, but I'll give Elliott a 1/10. With all due respect to our gallant writer, he literally has a quote where he says he "won't water the plant with salt water this time." ...Who would ever think of watering a freshwater plant with salt water, even without a background in gardening? So it's going to take Elliott a long time to adjust to life on a farm, especially if it's a Beach Farm ("Don't water the tomatoes with seawater!").

Normally Sam's mother, as she herself claimed, didn't make him and Vincent do house work, and there's no garden or hint of anyone in the family taking care of the houseplants (most likely Jodi doing all the work). So Sammy jumps from the life of a carefree musician to one full of farm chores, at least partially. In fact, he doesn't mind giving it a try, just doesn't know where to start ("Honey, help me"). 3/10, he's a little confused, but he got the spirit.

Being constantly busy working with patients, despite the small size of the town, and a bunch of other things to do in his clinic, certainly doesn't leave Harvey enough free time to do much gardening. But at least there's some time to read books, and the library just happens to have a couple of interesting ones about farming. I think it will at least give him the opportunity to grow tomatoes in a pot (albeit decorative ones). It's going to be a lot harder with farming, but Harvey even likes it. Still, 3.5/10, he's trying.

Similar situation with Sam, Sebastian will jump from a life of freelance programming work to the farm work. Of course Farmer won't force Sebby to work for them, after all they love him for who he is, not as free labour. But emo himself feels he should help his spouse with their work somehow. He's so-so at growing crops, but taking care of the chickens and goats is much better. 4/10, the black hens are his favourite, btw.

Oh, Alex will fit into farm life quite nicely. The athlete may have difficulty tending crops, watering potatoes and garlic with too much water, but in terms of physical tasks he does just fine. Drag heavy bags of seed/hay? Heck yeah! Load heavy pumpkins into the shipping bin for sale? Easy, he'll do it with one hand! It's like a workout for him. 6.5/10, go Alex!

SDV bachelorettes:

Penny may not have had the opportunity to grow melons or have a small garden near her house (well, trailer in this case), she was constantly reading books about foraging and farming, overflowing with dreams of having her own green place. Soon her dream came true, and all the theory they read was not wasted. Of course, the young teacher will definitely have difficulties, as this is not a small garden but a huge farm, but she will adapt quite well. 7/10, very nice.

4.5/10 for Maru. Actually, she's been a great helper on the farm from the beginning, only her area of expertise was different. Maru will easily fix any broken oil maker or calculate the proportions of minerals for fertiliser, but when asked to take care of the vegetable garden, the young inventor will definitely fall into a stupor. Still, I'm sure she will get used to it, because Maru is a genius, and if she can create an intelligent robot, she can handle growing strawberries as well.

I was going to give Haley the same number of points as Elliott, but I thought her trying to learn how to interact with cows and my idea that she wanted to learn about growing sunflowers deserved another point. So let it be 2/10. Yes, very low, but Haley used to be squeamish of any dirt and smells, so farm life, which is just full of dirt and smells (especially from the barn) will be a bit difficult for a girl.

In general, Leah's knowledge is closer to foraging than to farming, but the talented artist is definitely not afraid of hard work, and has a basic knowledge of growing crops. She definitely offered her then (future) spouse help on the farm several times. Yes, it was flirting, but Leah was actually willing to help carry seeds and water the plants, even had something to share about growing mushrooms on stumps. 7.5/10, she's a great fit.

On the one hand, Abigail has some experience in farming, as Pierre definitely asked her for help in his small vegetable garden behind the shop. On the other hand, the purple-haired girl didn't really show much interest in all this and she seemed to lack patience with plants and flowers before. It's different now, but Abby thought at times that her father and mother's chatter about plants was for a reason after all. 4/10, not too great, but not all bad either.

Emily takes care of the flowers in the house, so some knowledge she has. She loves nature and being outside, that's undeniable. Farming skills? Well... yes and no. Emily is a hard-working bee, but almost all of her time has been taken up at the Saloon, cleaning the house, and a passion for tailoring, so she doesn't have much experience. Still, it's there, and I'd give it a 5/10, but more because of the fact that Emily definitely takes good care of the animals ("My friends")

_________________________________________

So, from best to worst (SDV bachelors):

№1: Shane; №2: Alex; №3: Sebastian; №4: Sam; №5: Harvey; №6: Elliott.

From best to worst (sdv bachelorettes):

№1: Leah; №: Penny; №3: Emily; №4: Maru; №5: Abigail; №6: Haley.

[kryptznnn]

♛- It's Just Business

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

➸ INTERESTS; -normal au! toji fushiguro x f!reader

➸ BACKGROUND; -just a drabble on toji being one of your fathers closest (and possibly youngest) friends and the two of you just can't seem to leave one another. You both knew it was wrong; you were a college student, and he was damn near pushing mid fourties, even if he tried to convince himself it was just business.

➸ WARNINGS; - wc.1.4k, romantic tension, sexual tension, large age gap (Toji is 43 and reader is 21), smut, p in v, mentions of breeding, kissing, marking, sexual ties, dad's bsf trope, fingering, orgasm f!recieving, secrecy, flirting, subtle touches, romantic and sexual build up, etc.

➸a.i; - omg new drabble, crazy working i know idk whats wrong w me but i had the urge to write this. enjoy!! im also working on my jjk masterlist so that should be out soon, trying to clear my drafts. xoxo.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Toji Fushiguro knew you just as well as you did him, well only through the relations of your dad. The two of them were close as well as you had known, like rushing to give your dad the phone whenever he called kind of close.

Inviting him and his son over to eat dinner with your family kind of close. Birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, all of it, you hadn’t gone a full month without seeing him at least once with your dad. It was common for the two of you however to exchange small conversation, glances, and touches with one another, the tension and flirtatious air between the two of you never going unmissed.

So, it wasn’t any surprise when you had a week off after taking midterms to return home and to find no one there. Only to contact your parents to find out they had an emergency to take care of out of country, leaving you home alone. Well not entirely, your dad had told Toji about it, and he offered to help out, as the last thing your parents wanted was for you to be alone.

Your father was grateful to say the least, repeatedly thanking him for his kindness and even offered to pay him since it was a long period of time. He had done it before, babysitting you when you were within your mid to late teens, this would’ve been easy. A week alone with you gave him chills as he kept a grin plastered on his face. He hadn't liked this side of him, he felt a tad bit like a perv, but it didn't seem like he was the only one trying to grab at the others attention.

His eyes widened at you as you opened the door for him, letting him inside as you were barely dressed properly. Your top was tight in contrast to your bottoms, just barely loose, keeping his eye on your figure as he made his way inside, two bags in hand. The scent of that strong pheromone scented perfume you'd wear had his cock twitch slightly in his pants.

He hated that perfume, and you only wore it whenever you knew he was coming around. He was hooked on it as if it was a drug, and honestly had even masturbated to you before as he caught the scent around his bedroom from your last visit with your family. The top you had worn wasn't helping his case either.

Scratch that, your top was tight how you liked it and he loved it, and you only kept a smirk on your face as you watched him swallow, hard. Keeping pointers on how his Adams apple bobbed up and down when he did.

You greeted him with a smile as you shut the door behind him, locking it quickly. He thought to himself as he took in your outfit before making his way to the guest room he’s been in before. Placing his bags down as you disappeared from behind him.

A crop top he thought, although this one was different, very different. It looked almost like a bikini top the way it squeezed you, as if it was a dry sponge and you were an entire ocean letting it sink in. Maybe it was a bikini top, some kind of new fashion trend with shorter tops and baggy shorts that he was behind on, he hadn’t known.

What he did know is that what you were doing was wrong, the both of you knew it was wrong, frankly you just didn't care. You had always been bold and persistent, so when you saw his entire body react to you mentioning the boys from college and randoms that would try to hit on you when you went out with friends you took it as an opportunity.

It was something he was never able to wrap his head around, how he felt for you was wrong, but he couldn't help what his body craved. He was pushing mid 40's and you were only 21, you were around the same age as his so. Well, not technically, you two shared an age gap for 3 years but the gap between the two of you hadn't compared between Toji's age gap with yours.

He was never short to compliment you and how you dressed. No matter what you wore it seemed to suit you, especially in the way he liked. Your dad had always teased him because he hadn't remarried after his last or even took on dating again, his eyes quickly met yours before he would turn back to your father and just laugh.

He was here because he cared about you and he cared about your father, he was a good friend and wanted to help out in any way possible. He was also being paid to be here, so it couldn't have been that bad and he couldn't complain. Just a simple week with you, he knew he could handle it, it couldn't be that hard.

Only that it was, and that he was too as you teased him, mewling softly as you had a hold of his cock, rubbing the tip against your core, arching your back slowly as it repeatedly hit your clit. You had already been overstimulated prior from him toying with you, fingering you as if you were just a doll, and he laughed at you.

You were laid out flat underneath him, your head perked up as your eyes followed your movements as he watched you. He doesn't even think he can remember how the two of you ended up in this state, both of you fully nude and your hair was draped out across his sheets.

He loved how you looked, and he loved the sounds you were making, only getting louder as he moved your hand to the side and pushed himself inside you. He quickly sunk down onto you, pressing his body weight into you as his arms caged your sides.

He nearly hissed at the feeling of you, his eyes pressed shut, tightly. You were too tight for comfort, or maybe he was getting old and hadn't had action in so long. You felt so good, better than he had imagined, if he hadn't known any better, he would've thought you were a virgin, even though you told him you weren't.

Now he remembers how things came into play; you came into his room to watch a movie. The entire time for nearly an hour the two of you were exchanging glances and subtle touches in places where your hands shouldn't have been. You kissed him, locking your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, until the situation had escalated to where the two of you were now.

You loved how he pistoled into you; he was fucking you as if he was starving and greedy. It drove you absolutely insane, unable to keep yourself quiet as he spoke dirty to you. You knew this was wrong, fucking around with your dad's close friend, if not best friend, but honestly it felt so good.

"This what you wanted? Wanted your dad's best friend to give you a good fuckin'? Hm?" He teased, whispering in your ear as your moans grew louder, humming and nodding to his phrase in response. You wrapped your legs around him yet again and clung to him like an animal, clinging on for dear life as you whined.

The movie was still playing in the background, but honestly neither of you were paying attention to it, if anything you were louder than the TV. His thrusts hadn't slowed down, he kept the same pace as he nipped and bit at your skin, not satisfied until his jaw had felt a little sore.

"Maybe if you're a good girl for me I'll fill you up. You'd like that wouldn't ya?" He said, his voice gruff and heavy as he grunted into you. You could only babble along, muttering 'yes, yes, yes' over and over again, pleading with him.

This was fine, he still had the situation under control, following his orders. You were well kept, under perfect care, and safe, so technically he wasn't going against your father's wishes, plus you were extra happy so that was a bonus.

It isn't anything personal, just adding on a little tip towards the payment your dad was planning to give him after finishing his 'babysitting'. He just had to keep convincing himself that this was all just business, so he didn't have his emotions or feelings for you thrown into the mix.

Yeah, it's just business.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

✴🕷 please do not copy, plagiarize, edit, or translate any works submitted by me. all works are originated and all other pictures used within those works are online images. thank you!! @kryptznnn

[julymusings]

Jason Todd x South Asian!Reader HCs

requested | reader is fem, i tried to keep it non-specific so it applies to the whole region, not just india, hopefully i succeeded😬

i looooved writing this it was so much fun. drop an ask with anything else you want to see!!

When you show him Bollywood movies, at first he’s like “Why are these so damn long?” But watches them anyway because you’re so excited to show him

He obviously sobs at K3G (because he has daddy AND big brother issues)

But his favorite is probably 3 Idiots or Bhaag Milkha Bhaag (he just seems like the type to looove an underdog story am I right)

Since Jason likes cooking, he’s learning how to make all your favorite foods. He’s eaten a lot of Indian food before (duh, it’s New Jersey), so he’s familiar with the flavors and spices, but some dishes are easier than others. He tries to make dosa after you mentioned liking it but it does not go well

He’s trying so hard to impress you but they all keep breaking😭 and the ones that don’t break come out burnt. When he finally relents and lets you help him, you hold his hand and guide him to make the proper movements; pouring the batter, spreading it into a circle, and gently flipping it so it doesn’t break

He loves chai, and is always experimenting with different recipes and flavors and asking you to test them

You're taking him to the Indian market so often, by the end of the month he knows the names for all the vegetables and spices in your language and where to find them

He thinks you with mehendi/henna is the most attractive thing ever

Your friend’s getting married? Of course he’ll feed you while your mehendi’s drying, you don't even have to ask

When it's still fresh and at its darkest color he's actually going batshit insane (pun intended); he loves interlacing your fingers together and seeing the contrast of your dark, decorated fingers against his large, strong ones. His phone background is a selfie of you guys where your faces are squished side-by-side and one of your mehendi'd hands is cupping his cheek

And when you're on top of him, the sight of your adorned hands pressed flat against his bare chest, flushed and heaving...he thinks it belongs in a museum

He just loves doing little acts of service; one day you’re complaining offhandedly to him about how the price of eyebrow threading keeps going up, a week later you’ve forgotten all about it but he’s like “I learned how to thread your eyebrows”

He figured it would be easy enough, and as someone who’s life often depends on steady, surgical aim and precision, it is

Roy’s walking around looking messed up as fuck for a couple weeks but that’s beside the point because he’s got the hang of it now 

When it comes to putting on a sari, he'll put the pins in the hard to reach places if you ask, but for the most part he just loves watching you put it on. he thinks it's so cute the way you scrunch your face in focus as you make the folds and tuck in the fabric with such concentration (Jason Todd domesticity agenda)

One night you're getting dressed up for some party, but no matter what you do and how many times you take it off and try to re-drape it, it just won't come out good and you get so frustrated and teary-eyed that he has to intervene

He makes you take a break, brings you a snack, and kisses you until you feel better, and then he pulls up a youtube video to do it for you— but he can't do it either😭

So you both decide to give up and you wear a lehenga instead

It’s a fairly modest one, and even though he's seen you wearing more-revealing clothes (and none at all), he's going crazy over that one inch sliver of exposed skin on your midriff

He already loves seeing you dressed up in traditional wear but if you put jasmine flowers in your hair with it??? The fragrance coming from you makes him feral. It lingers in your hair for a couple days and he can’t stop following you around and sniffing you LMAO

The first time you get a kurta for him, it’s actually impossible to find one that fits because he’s so big and buff (drool) so you just end up buying the fabric and getting it custom stitched

There's only a few scraps of the fabric left and you get the wonderful idea of braiding the scraps into a bracelet so you have something to match with him and it makes him go crazy

Early on in your relationship, you’re a little afraid to have oil in your hair in front of him because you’re worried he’ll think the smell is too strong

Jason is probably familiar with the practice of hair oiling from his time with Talia (but you don’t know that yet)

He actually LOVES when you oil your hair around him. Just something about him being the only one who gets to see you when you’re comfy and unready is so intimate to him and makes him feel so special and trusted and loved🥹

Time for some of my physical touch x touch starved!Jason propaganda

After a particularly difficult night of patrolling, he comes to you stressed and anxious and unsure what to do with himself. So you make him sit on the floor in front of your bed, warm up some of the oil, and seat yourself on the edge of the mattress. He leans back against your legs and you massage the warm oil into his scalp. It feels heavenly. You’re using the perfect amount of pressure, hitting all the right spots, and it feels so good he wants to cry. Later, when you pull him into the shower to shampoo it out, he actually does cry, hoping the water falling from the shower head hides the tears (it doesn’t, and it breaks your heart)

(If you were raised Hindu) I think he'd be very interested in the belief in reincarnation, past & future lives, oneness with the universe, etc...it might help him make some sense of his coming back

You bring mediation into his life, and that also really helps him

You wear Kajal/kohl/surma on your eyes, and whenever he’s looking especially good, or before he goes out as red hood, you smudge some onto your finger and put a mark behind his ear, just to be safe (it’s believed to deflect jealousy/bad intentions from others) (yes I’m superstitious sue me)

Or you just tie a black thread around his ankle

When you first explain to him that you want him to wear a black thread around his ankle because of a superstition, he thinks you’re joking. He can’t believe you actually believe in that 

But he can’t say no to you and he secretly likes that you also have one so it feels like you’re matching 

He considers it a good luck charm, not because he believes the superstition but because it’s from you

omg thank you for all the love on these<3 dick's will be posted tomorrow

[who-is-page]

Wag Those Tail Feathers: The Wonders of Alterhuman Courtship

Author: Page Type: Essay Words: 1,065 Summary: Page's perspective on alterhuman courtship, as an individual who has been both on the receiving and giving ends of it.

[Part of the Sol System’s Alterhuman Writing Project for 2024. If you don’t want to see these posts, block the tag #inkedclaws]

As a polyamorous alterhuman, I’ve had the wonderful experience of being in relationships with people who have a variety of different courtship instincts— sometimes even all at the same time! Including my own instincts, it’s led up to some interesting realizations about the variety and diversity of expressions of love, and how wonderful it can be to be loved by an alterhuman (and to be an alterhuman in love, too).

My personal experiences, notably, revolve specifically around being nonhuman and this applies to a majority of my partners as well, which influences the flavor of this discussion. It’s been a wonder to be the target of a feathery mating dance, to be wooed with draconic jewelry and treasures, or to have my partner jump out with a meal, as proud as could be at displaying their hunting skills for a mate. It’s not necessarily just a nonhuman thing, either, of course; my orthohuman partner exhibits some similar sort of feelings and actions, too! Something which comes across especially strong in his hunt-and-gather supply-hoarding behavior in video games. But there’s something so especially intimate about having your alterhuman partner court you in a way unique to their species identity. It’s a beyond flattering form of trust, love, and affection.

And as an alterhuman who has targeted my partners, alterhuman and orthohuman alike, with my own affections, it’s also uniquely affirming to have your partners engage with your varieties of courtship for your species. There’s something incredibly special to have them try to learn your rituals and woo you in turn, even if they don’t have the same instincts driving them. It’s love with intention, a conscious effort to learn a language that’s typically foreign to them or which they might otherwise never come across on such a personal level. It may not always be perfectly executed, but the intentions behind them make them perfect regardless.

I’m someone who’s fully public about my alterhumanity. I don’t hide that I’m a dog and (luckily) no one especially seems to care in the day-to-day when I’m meeting up with strangers and acquantinces. But it’s become an important part of my dating life that potential partners need to not only be aware of my alterhumanity and accept it, but they also need to interact with it. You could argue that my spouse set the bar high for any potential future partners with how he took to my canine-ness and plurality like a fish to water, but I’m of the opinion that it’s something that should be the norm, not something so utterly unexpected by many.

Being able to engage in alterhuman courtship with your partner, as serious or as silly as it may fundamentally end up being, shouldn’t be something that you feel is utterly unreachable, that you yearn for but never feel like you’ll be able to reach. Alterhuman courtship is a wonderous experience; something that I think it’s not only important for alterhuman folks to be able to freely do with those they love most, but also to be on the receiving end of, too. It can be easy to default to the status quo in relationships, because of the societal pressure around us. Normativity around romance, sex, and even platonic affections is something that is constantly at play in the backgrounds of our culture and which embeds itself into our conciousnesses in unexpected and often invisible ways; and it’s difficult to dissect these without exposing ourselves to what some might list as “weird” or “unusual” urges and behaviors. But we can’t unpack the shame or embarrassment that might be holding us back from engaging with these urges unless we actually let ourselves acknowledge the collective, confusing feelings abound within them. We shouldn’t allow ourselves to shrug our shoulders and simply say, “I suppose I’ll never find someone who can accept me as my [species] and all that entails,” or to just resign ourselves to having to hide a part of ourselves away forever to maintain relationships.

We should toss these types of negative feelings aside and embrace our alterhuman courtship urges in earnest: that sometimes we’re not fully human, or we’re human a little to the right, and that inevitably makes romance, sex, and platonic interactions a little different for us than it might look for standard folks as displayed on a big screen. It’s not a failure on our part, and it’s not something that needs to be squirreled away due to internalized respectability politics. We can love ourselves and find love in others, for and by being ourselves. We can experience unique forms of love and adore those factors in others. This is, to me, a part of the territory that comes with being alterhuman or knowing alterhumans. It’s a part of what makes life wonderous.

In my partnerships, I love getting to bring my partners gifts. I love to bring them tiny treasures, small things from my system’s hoard, to pebble at them almost like a penguin would (sometimes including a silly little dance, of love!) It goes beyond standard gift-giving in the way that most of the people I’ve met would think of it, where presents that large are often reserved for special occasions like holidays and birthday. But it’s something I do year-round, to show my partners that they’re always on my mind, and that what is mine is their’s, too. I do the same thing with food; while normally incredibly food protective, both due to species identity and past food insecurities, I make the effort to share my favorite foods with my partners for the same fundamental reasons. To share my food, my bed, my life— and to have my partners recognize that as not just general displays of love, but as specifically displays of love intertwined with what I am, is something which displays a deep level of understanding and acceptance for my species. It’s something I’m grateful for beyond words, but it’s also something that I don’t want us as a community to accept as unheard of, or as just a one-off, lucky occurrence. Love like this is achievable and rewarding, both as a recipient of such alterhuman affections and as the giver. And we all deserve to experience it, in whatever form of love that we feel most comfortable with. Don’t tell yourself otherwise; don’t settle for less just because you feel like you have no other choice.

[beefcakekinard]

[<-<- part one] [<- part two] ~ ~ ~ [part four ->]

Buck makes it maybe five minutes before he gets the urge to look something up.

"Absolutely not," Tommy says, snatching Buck's phone out of his hands. Buck makes to grab it back, but Tommy pins him with one arm around his waist and holds it out of reach with the other. "You picked the movie, Evan, Google can wait."

"I was going to go on Wikipedia," Buck scoffs, because there's a difference. "Google-"

"Google is useless these days, I know." Tommy slips Buck's phone into the back pocket of his own sweats and rearranges them, spreading out more along the couch and pulling Buck on top of himself. "Enjoy the movie, Evan."

Buck sighs, loudly, pretending to be put-upon, but he really can't complain. It's still a little novel, being able to just spread himself out on top of Tommy like this. He settles more as Tommy starts dragging his fingertips up and down his spine, just like he had been when Buck woke up. It's so comfortable, so familiar, so Tommy. The movie continues on - background noise, almost, with the way Tommy always pulls his focus without even trying.

With a jolt, Buck pulls himself from the edge of consciousness. Tommy squeezes his shoulder and Buck just wishes he'd run his fingers along his back again. Buck opens his mouth to complain, but he stops short with a choked laugh when he notices what's happening on screen.

"Christ," he coughs out. "I wasn't expecting to see my parents in this movie."

Tommy laughs above him. "That WASP-y silence hits too close to home, huh?"

"Hey, you said it, not me." Buck says. He nuzzles at Tommy's belly and watches as the scene changes again. Tommy shifts under him, which for Tommy standards counts as restless. Buck doesn't want to commit the cardinal sin of asking him about it while the movie's still playing, but it turns out he doesn't have to wait.

"I always-" Tommy starts, a few minutes later. He clears his throat. A few too many awkward seconds pass.

"What's that?" Buck asks.

"I always..." Tommy sighs. "I wanted a family like this. They're loud and crazy, but they love each other. They have - in jokes, and they support each other, where it matters." Tommy's hand squeezes Buck's shoulder. "I really... I just always wondered what that was like."

Buck curls his hand around the dip in Tommy's waist, right above his hip. "Me too," he admits. "It - I know the way we grew up is, was different, but uh. Me too."

"Wonder what that says about us," Tommy says, and his tone is too bitter, too unkind, for Buck's liking, so he pulls himself up to sit and grabs one of Tommy's hands in both of his own.

"What that says to me," Buck starts, looking Tommy square in the eye, "is that two lonely kids survived a couple of fucked-up childhoods. And that they found each other, and- and things aren't so lonely, anymore."

Tommy's expression does something complicated, some dance Buck isn't yet privy to, but he knows what it lands on. It lands on that look he gets when he says things like how are you real and what am I gonna do with you. It's an expression that Buck kind of loves, but it also kind of breaks his heart all the same.

[<-<- part one] [<- part two] ~ ~ ~ [part four ->]

[what-eats-owls]

It matters how you do it

I finished Dragon Age: The Veilguard and had some big feelings about it. Spoilers for basically everything under the cut, and frankly, it won't make sense unless you've finished the game anyway.

First of all: I had a blast with this game. I didn't find Act 1 slow, I did find Act 2 a bit of a whack-a-mole, and then Act 3 kicks you in the kidney (complementary) while insisting it's for your own good.

I've seen some recurring complaints: that it lacks depth/edge/darkness, that it abandons previous lore, that the previous choices don't matter. I don't entirely disagree. To me, it felt like a massive Dragon Age 4 game that pivoted to a different, tighter game after complaints about bloat in Inquisition. The key is that when editing down, there's such a thing as trying to trim the fat and taking a chunk of the roast with it.

I enjoy the concept of Lucanis's character, and the voice actor sold the hell out of him, but the storyline felt like being taken to a museum and allowed to see one (1) beautiful unfinished sculpture. Why did Spite, specifically, work? We know the spirit of Justice became Vengeance by abomination, we knew Solas was Wisdom before he became Pride, so what was Spite before, and why wasn't that tied to Lucanis's own personal arc? (Doubly so if you romance him!)

Similarly, Harding was a delight, and her greenhouse was such a lovely little haven. I would have loved to see more explanation of the connection between plants and the titans, and how Harding's own personal struggles with rage connected to that of the titans. She has every reason to be angry and scared, and the game tells us she pushed that away—but we don't actually see her toxic positivity manifest to that degree, until she abruptly has an angry clone.

On the flip side, I loved the other five character quests, and I felt they had solid, poignant arcs that delivered. I also adored their interactions with the codex—if anything, I wanted to see more of that type of interaction on the screen. You have to fill in a lot of the character work for Rook yourself; Rook has all these interesting potential backgrounds, but I think starting the game playing through those, a la Origins, would have gone miles towards establishing more personal stakes up front and made for a stronger start.

So that's all my nitpicking. But let's talk about the bigger theme: It matters how you do it.

In the first Fade conversation with Solas, he gets so mad when Rook refuses to let him DARVO them about the consequences of his botched ritual. This makes way more sense when you understand he's literally imprisoned by his own regrets, and he needs Rook to have that same kind of regret in order to take his place. His entire arc is about rationalizing binary choices and shitty actions that hurt others in the name of a hypothetical greater good that he wants.

Solas can't engineer every binary choice Rook's forced into, but he uses Varric to maximize Rook's regret. He is trying to quite literally mold Rook into him, and the game is great at presenting this both as a coldblooded manipulation and a broken plea for validation—if you let it. You don't have to give Solas a moment of consideration; you don't have to take time to view his memories, or kill his demons, or listen to those scraps of Mythal still holding onto the good in him. You don't have to do any of it.

But you can. And in the end, it matters.

It matters because for every companion, you can encourage them to either be more nurturing/compassionate or destructive/closed off versions of themselves, and that is frequently tied to continuing or breaking from a cycle. (The exception is either Neve or, presumably, Lucanis, who are forced into the Hardened version depending on which city you save.) These aren't presented as morally opposing choices, just who you want them to be. You can see how the Grey Wardens fucked up bad with griffons and decide they have a better place. You can help Emmrich face his fear by finding deeper meaning in life instead of indefinitely postponing death. You can help them do things differently.

So when you get to the final choice in the game, you may have two options: physically force Solas into saving the Veil, or trick him into it. The kind of binary choice Solas has molded you into making by pelting you with cruelty and manipulation.

Or, if you've taken the time, you can get him to understand he's wrong. You bring out the people who saw the best in him and speak to what he's had to endure, even as you're showing him there's another way. You reach him not as Pride, but as Wisdom. And he goes willingly.

Ultimately, I think DA2 and Inquisition grappled with big questions of oppression and violence, faith and authority. It makes sense for those games to delve into harder, uglier subject matter, and ask you to make binary calls.

But my read of Veilguard is that, at its core, it's about how those decisions are meant to trap you in regret at best, and numb you to rationalizing cruelty at worst. It's why the companion who loses their home city becomes colder, more isolated, in response—more like Solas.

That's why it offers you a third way at the very end, but only if you've worked for it. A better way is possible, yet it has to be more than words. You have to understand where the pain comes from, what maintains and is being maintained by the current cycle. Then, and only then, can you break it.

I can't wait to play it again.

P.S. Utterly obsessed with the Trevisan fish merchant.

[leresq]

Finally watched Deadpool and Wolverine. First of all I was not coming into this with high hopes because even though everyone was talking about how good this movie is I've never found the Deadpool movies funny. To me they're just different variations of "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" stretched into two now three feature length films. But honestly I liked it at the end.

- Why are Logan's ears and one of his eyes not decayed when no other part of his body is intact? Why does he have a beard on his jawbone?

- I'll bite, the Bye Bye Bye is a fun idea. The wintery forest setting is cool.

- I can't enjoy that opening fight scene because it's not how anything works. You don't get bludgeoned with a dull object, have your body armour completely give way, and have a pint of blood splash out. I understand the whole point of Deadpool is that it's over the top, but this is just so overly gratuitous it's insane. I feel like Marvel Studios felt like they had to make it so unrealistically violent to try and separate it from the mainline MCU to get the people who have Deadpool funko pops to guffaw in the theatre. It's "You haven't seen this in an Iron Man movie" with zero words spoken. Honestly incredible.

- The CGI is better than it's been recently but it's still noticeably bad

- Peter Parker's Iron Man mask is on the desk in the background! How did that even get there.

- Why is Tony's ARC reactor on the table, I thought that was pushed into the river at the funeral

- The timeline is just so incredibly fucked. I still don't understand how the X Men timeline reboot works, or how Logan fits into it; if Logan dying means Deadpool's universe collapses, that implies the Logan movie is in the X Men reboot franchise, but Patrick Stewart is in that and James McAvoy plays him in the reboot making me think it's a one off... Augh my head...

- Something looks up with John Favraeu. I don't know if his wearing a wig is supposed to be obvious, I don't know if he's just under a lot of makeup or it's CGI, it's just weird.

- Deadpool is never going to be an Avenger because Marvel Studios would rather execute everyone working for them than give up the licencing deals from making PG13 movies, and Deadpool wouldn't feel the same in a PG13 movie.

- I think any brand would let Ryan Reynolds walk all over them in muddy boots, for some reason he gets the pass to slander anyone he wants to and he gets paid by the companies to do it.

- 'I don't have a lot of v*ginal sex' 🤨 that has numerous connotations. Also can we not do sex jokes in front of 12 year olds

- I was not expecting a Deadpool movie to contain any hints of character development because the previous two instalments seemed to be hellbent on making sure I understood nothing of emotional value would ever be allowed to appear without being undercut by a sex joke.

- "I've never been a natural bottom" 🤨🤨 I thought Poolverine was just the average two male leads naturally gets shipped together thing but no they're sowing the fields

- If that Thor crying over Deadpool never comes back I will say something about it

- If they didn't want me to know Paradox was going to be a villain why would they make him British

- The 'Suck it Fox' cut to nothing being there is the only time I will accept something raising more questions than answering them at this level as funny

- "Your tailor is a predator" caught me so off guard I started coughing

- Wow I wasn't expecting them to pull the Paradox is actually evil card not even a third into the movie. Honestly a good subversion of expectations.

- How is Deadpool's universe going to evaporate in 74 hours, I thought time doesn't exist at the TVA?

- Are they going to explain why Deadpool's suit can just fix itself now. It used to keep its holes.

- Finally, I think the first time we ever hear Deadpool is from Canada in the movies! I wonder if Ryan Reynolds only wanted to play him in the first place because they're both Canadian...

- "You two gonna fuck or fight?" 🤨🤨🤨

- I actually understood the Honey Badger reference

- the FF floating platform thingy is another reference I'm surprised I got

- The Human Torch CGI is actually really cool

- "Not all of you was asleep" after waking up on his shoulder 🤨🤨🤨🤨

- Too many cameos in Cassandra's little alcove so I'm not even going to bother looking for them all

- I'm not sure if Johnny Storm's death was supposed to be played for laughs or just shock value, either way I'm not laughing I loved those movies ;(

- How does Cassandra know she's Xavier's sister if she was sent to the Void before she could walk?

- Wolvie being nice to Johnny post mortem is cool

- Nicepool having a stronger Canadian accent is a good joke, and Deadpool looking on in disgust as Nicepool talks about his dog's 'G-spot' is good. At least that's not played off as just a normal thing to say even if it is a joke

- "I identify as a feminist" could easily be misconstrued as an 'anti-woke' joke but all of the jokes of a similar calibre in this movie seem to be made ironically

- "Where's your mask" and Nicepool points to his face actually implying his nice guy attitude is a facade for being a shitty person is actually really good

- Why is Nicepool's car surrounded by untrampled corn, how did it get there? Who grew the corn?

- Deadpool includes Colossus in his world 🥺

- Wolverine is nothing if not an excellent shit talker, and it's actually very out of character for Deadpool to actually get affected by insults

- I wish The Greatest Showman soundtrack was incorporated for more than just a third of a second

- 'Close up magic' ant man reference?

- 'There's only ever gonna be one Blade' about that...

- I think that's Apocalypse's throne in Cassandra's room? Or Thanos's

- I never thought about how both Cassandra and Xavier's powers radiate from their heads until the Juggernaut helmet scene

- Finally some real actual genuine character development that's not thrown away for a joke!!! The best part of the movie to me was Cassandra's redemptio-. Oh. Nevermind. Anyway I like it better than if it were just shoved away for a joke then she died

- Deadpool waiting for the 'extras' to clear was, to me, a good indication that he's a hero now. Caring about civilians is #1 on my makes you a good guy requirements

- "You smell something?" "Yeah you" 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- And there it is. Nicepool's death is probably the most predictable death I've ever seen on film.

- Eastside Pharmacy?! Agatha All Along reference???

- Wolverine's helmet looks like a rubber playground ball

- Will Marvel Jesus come back in three days however?

- Staring at Hugh's abs? Same, but 🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨

- That hand holding ending was actually impressive, I wasn't sure what was going to happen and it actually kicked ass

- Is the guy with the mug who stared at Deadpool in the beginning Marvel's first gay character

- The introducing Logan to Blind Al is so unbelievably 'the parents meeting the boyfriend' I could die there's no fucking way that wasn't on purpose

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 11/12/2024

this one's a bit short. i am now thirty and still unemployed (ten months this week) ://// if you enjoy the tuesdayposts and are not maxed out on your charitable donations for other causes (american healthcare access, healthcare access in other places, war relief, any number of other good causes) i am going to be $300 short for december rent. here is my paypal.

listening

listening to a lot of pete seeger, for my health. there are about one zillion recordings of Old Man Atom, all ever so slightly different. it starts off as a perky gee-whiz-science! tune and continues frog marching the listener along in an increasingly jaunty manner. it's

Then the cartel crowd put on a show To turn back the clock on the UNO To get a corner on atoms and maybe extinguish Every darned atom that can't speak English Down with foreign-born atoms! America for American atoms! I hold this truth to be self-evident That all men may be cremated equal!

it's very depressing to listen to early anti-nuclear protest songs and realize they hold even more true today! song's a bop tho!

-

reading

the feds nabbed someone allegedly related to the semi-dire Snowflake data leaks that have been ongoing throughout the year (Santander Bank, AT&T, Ticket Master, Neiman Marcus, etc).

this guy has been a real thorn in krebs' side for a year or so and participates in some of the worst corners of the internet, which explains the adversarial nature of the writeup. i read through the whole thing going "yeah this guy is Very annoying but why is krebs so mad at him" and then got to the bottom section about other activities. italicized OH moment in real life but bad.

-

watching

continuing noirvember with The Maltese Falcon (1941, dir. Huston).

The Maltese Falcon is a 1941 American film noir in which a San Francisco private detective deals with three unscrupulous adventurers, all seeking a jewel-encrusted falcon statuette.[3] Written and directed by John Huston[3] in his directorial debut, the film was based on the 1930 novel The Maltese Falcon by Dashiell Hammett and is a remake of the 1931 film of the same name.[4][5][6] It stars Humphrey Bogart as private investigator Sam Spade, Mary Astor as his femme fatale client, and as villains Peter Lorre and Sydney Greenstreet.

i have two really snotty thoughts to get out of my brain: the modern letterboxed reviews like "i liked this but the homophobia ruined it" weak. all of you are WEAK.

and

i appreciate the work of the tumblrinas trying to queer this story in a more 2020s friendly way. however. sam spade canonically calls someone a slur for using cologne that he deems too feminine. the noir detective series you want is Philip Marlowe, who is at least homophobic in interesting and less physically violent ways.

anyway! gorgeous gorgeous movie. mary astor goes toe to fucking toe with bogey in every scene. a very frantic and frightened woman who is one jump ahead of the pathway crumbling behind her at all times. but she takes the jump and makes it! every time! except for the most important one!!!

-

playing

having a normal one with 12 hours of powerwash simulator

new genshin update rapidly approacheth. there's a lot happening in this screenshot. accidentally careened right past this npc, with one bullet for the poor low-level slime in the background, floaty blue pet in tow. the npc wanted me to deliver something to her sister who is visible under the big tree in the background. i love early area spaghetti code.

-

making

deep cleaned my house again bc i had people over for my birthday, which was a very lovely and very drunk evening of star wars on in the background while we played trivia. not how i expected to enter my thirties! i am not in the life circumstances i expected to be in my thirties, i do not have the life i expected to have in my thirties, etc. feeling a little maudlin and need to do crafts about it but also all the crafts in my home are not quite right!

[azlovesem]

Who are you. How did you get out of prison in the first place im wondering?

they let me out. People like me Emma. They tend to turn a blind eye to the bad things i do.

why? Because theres not enough evidence to convict of anything. Orbthe witnesses died mysteriously. The one police officer said you know every killer in this city personally. I dont associate with that type of person in this city. Or any city. I read about you people or see you in movies or on tv. I dont sleep with you. I had no idea your problems were this big and bad.

too late there. Ha ha ha.

You think everythings funny i get that.

No i dont. I just have to laugh. And yeah i know people but fo you thnk id really be hrre if i fid yhe things people i sell drugs to do in this town? Who do you yhonk buys the drugs. Nit kids not lil girks not the people here i have the good dtudff i deal with hardened criminals. I am not one myself. I have had yo defend myself and my friends once or teice thats it.

what and someone died. And your a good drug dealer. What you just said makes it eorse. You know the difference between right and wrong yiu just font give a fuck for money. Maybe you dont sell to anyone here maybe you do from what i heard.

hardened criminals.

i feel bad for you. Worse than i do for those hardened criminals. A lot if yhrm vome from horrible backgrounds. Youre the eorse person who is organized with otber lazy spoiked rich kids out in south eindsor who youve corrupted into growing and hiding and selling stugs for you everywhere. Where do uou yhink those drugs go after you sell large smounts of them yo those poor people? To tye people im trying to help. Oh my God im do stupid. I have horrible taste in nen its yhe only real oroblem i have. I asked other people. Youre dudlected of cold blooded murder you are an expert car thief and break and enter artist. Youre violent. Youre sn armed robber. An gun smuggler with vonnections in Michigan God what else font i know?

no secmxusl charges. No reallybweird shit or eoman abuse or pimping. And im ex all these things by the way if its even true. Never been proved.

youre sn asshole.

yeah but i maje tou laugh and cum and im funny.

so what thats a two week affair. Now i see you are the reason i do this and that is not good. Get out of ky office. I dont want you comng near ne. Yiull see Jasper now concrrning your file. Hes gonna love you.

not like you do though.

i dont live you infuckn hate you.

thats ehat they all say. But ya dont. Ya hate life.

emma stone

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.