#do I have to use a trigger warning for this?

[landosjpg]

from my pov | ln

lando norris x fem!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: heavily implied body dysmorphia, disordered eating, insecurities, COMFORT

note: based on this request. despite of the previous warnings and this being more of a comfort blurb, i feel the need to clarify that i am NOT encouraging these behaviors and, as some sensitive topics are discussed, please DO NOT READ if this could be triggering for you or have any kind of negative impact on your mental health. i am also writing this from my own experience with these topics; everyone’s experience is different, so please be respectful.

and last, but obviously not least, if you’re going through something like this (or through anything, really) PLEASE REACH OUT! and if you’re not ready to do so, for whatever reason it might be, reminder that my messages are always open for anyone who needs a little rant or anything i could potentially help with.

and lastly, i don’t know how i feel about this one (yes i’m insecure about everything i post, leave me alone) so please share your thoughts with me as always <3

it had started only a few weeks ago. summer was around the corner, and inevitably, your social media was filled with girls in tiny crop tops or “summer body” posts.

normally, you wouldn’t pay too much attention to them; you liked your body the way it was.

but this year it was different. the stress of the past few weeks had a bigger impact on you that you ever expected.

the first time you noticed you were trying your summer clothes on. the skirt you loved being a little tighter than the last time you had used it.

it was only a few pounds, no one could really notice. but you could.

you shouldn’t have give it a second thought, but insecurities got the best of you and that very same moment you had decided that you needed to do something about it.

you would just stop snacking in between meals. you had it all under control, and in to time you would feel good about yourself again.

that’s what you told yourself.

but your rule of no snacking soon turned into skipping breakfast quite often and trying to make your meals as light as possible.

but you found yourself checking your body in the mirror more often than not whenever you were left alone.

“i’m back!” you heard your boyfriend announce, followed by the sound of the front door closing.

you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought of lando finding you like that, so you tried to put on your clothes as quickly as possible and wiped your tears from your cheeks before walking out of the bathroom.

you slowly paced to the kitchen where you knew he was, one of his hoodies over your body and your eyes inevitably red and puffy.

when you entered the kitchen, you didn’t even need to say anything for him to knew you where there, even with his back turned to you.

“got us dinner,” he said, taking the food out of a white plastic bag. “your favorite.”

you could feel his smile even when he still hadn’t turned to look at you yet, and it broke your heart a little that you weren’t in the mood for some junk food.

when your eyes met his, his face softened at the sight of you. he knew you were feeling down, but he also knew better than to ask. you would tell him, eventually.

“go choose a movie,” he uttered, voice tender. “i’ll be there in a second.”

you nodded and walked to the living room, sitting on the couch and trying to find a movie that could lift your mood up. just a little bit, at least.

it worked, for the last half of the movie; it eased off your worries for some time, and you found yourself lying on top of your boyfriend, worries about your recent insecurities now gone for a while.

you heard him sigh, his fingers brushing your hair softly as you rested your head on his chest with your eyes closed.

“tell me what’s up,” he whispered. “you’ve barely touched your food.”

“i’m not hungry,” you answered, making him roll his eyes.

“don’t lie to me.”

despite his insistence, he wasn’t mad; his tone was still gentle, and one of his hands slipped under your shirt to softly caress the skin of your waist. the touch that normally would have made you feel instantly better, this time making you tense a little. and he noticed, so he squeezed your side, urging you to speak.

“i just haven’t been feeling good lately,” you mumbled after a few seconds, your voice muffled as you were hiding your face in the crook of your boyfriend’s neck.

“hm?” he only hummed in response, kissing the top of your head and waiting for you to explain further, not really wanting to push you.

“i’ve put on a few pounds these past weeks,” your words were barely audible, voicing your insecurities was never an easy task.

lando heard you, though.

“that’s not a bad thing.”

“but it is,” you cut him off before he could add something else. his hand slowly rubbed your back as he took a deep breath. “you’re only saying that because you’re my boyfriend.”

he chuckled, “don’t be silly.”

lando squeezed you in his arms and planted another soothing kiss to your temple, trying to find the correct words to say.

“i’m not saying that just because i’m your boyfriend,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. he held your chin and made you look at him. “you’re gorgeous, baby. everyone can see that.”

your lips formed a little pout as you heard your boyfriend’s words, which he was quick to kiss away.

“and nothing will change that, ever,” his eyes met your teary ones, the corners of his lips perking up at your vulnerable state.

“but i…”

“nuh huh,” he cut you off immediately with a slight shake of his head. “no ‘buts’, love. you look perfect to me.”

he softly tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as he spoke, his eyes soft and his touch gentle when he then cupped your cheek.

“i wish you could see yourself with my eyes,” his whisper made you sigh as he nuzzled his nose softly against yours, comforting and sweet. “you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen, baby.”

“do you really mean it?” your eyes fluttered closed as you spoke, eyelashes resting on your cheeks.

“of course i do,” you could hear the small smile on his lips as he reassured you once again, the fingers that slowly creeped up the side of your body tickling your skin.

a sigh escaped your lips, your arms circling around your boyfriend’s neck as you pressed your lips against his in silent gratitude.

how lucky of a girl you were, you thought, for him to be just yours.

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #ln #ln4 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff

[genderlessdude92]

PRECIOUS

SMALL LIL’ ANGST—>FLUFF FIC

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PAIRINGS: Alastor x Reader

SUMMARY: You and Alastor get into a fight because you’re just worried he got hurt after a fight with Vox. He snaps at you and…well, you isolate yourself. whoopsies!

WARNINGS: Emotional abuse, Toxic relationship dynamics (but they both love each other dw), Intense emotional distress, Language, Potential Triggers, Donestic conflict. (MAJOR FLUFF AT THE END THOUGH!!! ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP!!!) They were a couple alive too if you don’t mind idk i suck at writing- USAGE OF Y/N I ALMOST FORGOT AHHH- Lmk if i missed anything :3

NOTICE: please don't steal/copy/translate my work. But thanks for liking it, though!! ^^

WORDS: 1.7k

Enjoy!!~

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“Alastor, are you serious?!” You yelled as Alastor started to walk away from you, mid conversation.

Alastor had just gotten into a big fight with Vox, luckily survived, though. The frustrating part is, he won’t even let you heal him. Or know what the battle was even about?!

Which made you really, really paranoid.

“Alastor, don’t walk away from me, that’s rude.” You caught up with him and began to match his pace and he walked to the halls of the hotel to lucifer knows where. “We need to talk about this.” You say firmly. “I’m going to find out one way or another.” You add, raising your voice slightly.

Alastor stopped walking and turned around to face you. He was looking down at you, which always made you feel so small. Even if he wasn’t actually looking at you, you could still feel it.

“Well, then.” His voice was calm, but a hint of annoyance was there. “Aren’t you just invested in my little public hiccup.”He crossed his arms, waiting for your response.

“Yes I am. And I think we should talk about it, instead of you getting defensive.” You looked him dead in the eye and kept talking. “And why you didn’t tell me.” Your voice went quieter again.

Alastor hid a chuckle, “I thought you would care more about me surviving, than knowing how many lives I took today.” He raised his eyebrow, mocking you. “Or maybe, I don’t want to share this kind of information with someone who will judge me for it.” He was now fully annoyed by you.

You stepped closer to him, trying to keep him from leaving again. “Alastor, please stop. I’m just trying to help. I don’t…” You trailed off nervously. “I don’t want us fighting.”

Alastor smirked at you, “Oh, don’t worry love. We aren’t fighting. Yet.” His tone was harsh and he leaned down to look you in the eyes. “But I will if you continue to harass me about this.”

You felt yourself start to panic, but tried your best to hide it. “I’m sorry Alastor, I just…” You couldn’t finish your sentence, as he interrupted you.

“No. Don’t ‘just’ anything. You know I hate that word.” He said with a cold smile. “Now leave me alone before I get upset with you.”

“…You know,” You began, standing in your place as Alastor walked away, “You should at least act like you care about my opinion, maybe act like a husband, as well.” You snapped back, but in a more calm, collected tone. (minus the shakiness in your voice.)

“That’s rich coming from you.” Alastor snapped back, turning around to face you again. “What did I ever do to deserve such a self-righteous wife?” He raised his voice a bit, but not enough for others to hear. “How dare you assume things about me without even asking. How dare you come here and make demands of me. How dare you try to control me.” He continued yelling, walking towards you. “You have no right to tell me what to do! I don’t have to explain myself to you!”

“I’m not trying to control you. I’m just saying, maybe you could at least consider what I have to say sometimes…” You tried to say bravely, but failed at the end. You felt so small. So insignificant.

You felt like nothing.

Alastor was now right in front of you, towering above you. His height and stature were intimidating, but his voice was worse. It was rough and demanding, making you feel like you weren’t worth anything. “You are nothing, nothing compared to me.” He sneered. “I don’t give a damn about what you think. What you say. What you do. You’re just a pathetic little sinner who has no idea what real power feels like. You’re not worthy of my time. You’re not worthy of my attention. You’re not worthy of my love.” He spat out the last word like it tasted sour in his mouth.

His words were cutting through your heart, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You dashed away to the nearest staircase, needing to get to your office. Your only safe space.

***

It has been about a week now since the fight you and Alastor had.

It had also been a week since you came out of your office.

You didn’t really leave your office because, one, it had a fridge of food and other things. Two, you had a makeshift bed with the couch. And three, why would you even go out there?

Only problem is, you’ve cried everyday, and that made you feel like complete imp-shit.

You really wanted to see Alastor, but you knew it wouldn’t end well.

You also didn’t want to be around anyone else, either.

***

Alastor was a gentleman to all women who deserved so.

An example he would give you is Rosie. He’s a gentleman to her because she’s nice to him and has manners. She deserves it.

But, if he was near Velvette, he would call her cruel names and shred all her ‘designer masterpieces’.

But, now he was confused.

What happened with Y/N?

He had never fought like that with her before no, usually she would be next to him in bed right now.

He was starting to miss her.

…he needed to give her an apology.

But he knew he wasn’t good with words.

So, he brainstormed.

“I could probably give her a heart…” He thought, stepping out of bed and pondering for a moment, “…no, no….maybe…some flowers?…” he looked over to his bayou. “…Allergies.”

He slumped onto his armchair and looked around his room for any ideas at all.

“…maybe some candy? No.” He thought, “She doesn’t eat much sweets.”

He sat there for a while longer, thinking.

Then it hit him.

***

You heard footsteps outside your door, and immediately froze. You looked around your room for any escape route, and found none. You decided to sit back down on your couch, and began to wait for whoever was there to leave.

The footsteps stopped outside your door, and a knock sounded out. “Y/N, open the door.” Alastor’s voice was stern and commanding. “I know you’re in there.” He added.

You opened the door slowly, and peeked out to see who it was.

“Hello, darling.” Alastor said with a warm smile. “Can I come in?”

You just stared at him, saying nothing

‘fuck’, he thought, ‘i caused this.”

“Y/N, I just want to apologize.” He finally said, breaking the silence. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I was wrong.”

“…you don’t mean that.” You replied, still not moving.

“I do mean it, darling. Please jsut…let me in.” Alastor said sincerely, taking a step forward.

You hesitated for a moment, then moved aside to let him in. He closed the door behind him and stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of what to do or say next.

Then, your eyes wandered to the large picture album he was holding to his side.

“Alastor…what’s that?” You asked, taking a step back cautiously.

“…it’s our picture album.” He looked at you, remaining calm. “…from…when we were alive. You know, with all those crappy photos.” He smiled softly.

You looked up at him, “…I’m scared.”

Alastor knew exactly why, as well.

He sighed, “I promise…I will keep myself contained if i ever, ever lash out like that… ever again.” He claimed, tears building up in his eyes.

“What i said back there was not true at all. You are everything to me, you are worth so much, and most of all, I love you.” He dropped the book to the floor and held out his arms to hug you.

You didn’t move, “…I don’t want to be here…” You said, letting a tear fall.

He nodded, “That’s okay, dear, let’s go to our room, okay?” He reassured, picking the book back up and holding you tight to his waist as the shadows consumed you both, talking you to his room.

***

You and Alastor missed this.

Limbs tangled together in bed, holding each other close, breathing in each other’s scents, you wish you had this sooner.

Alastor flipped a page of the album, “Oh look,” He noticed, pointing his claws to the first picture in the album, “It’s our cat, oh, what was his name again?” He asked, looking at you.

You were still crying.

He took a deep breath, “Y/n,” he exhaled, “It’s okay, dear…please don’t think about it.”

You looked at him, “w-what?” you said, wiping your cheek.

He ran a claw through your hair, “Nothing.” He said, smiling softly.

You put your head on his shoulder, “Okay,” you mumbled into his chest, closing your eyes and enjoying his scent.

He stroked your hair, “Do you remember our wedding day?” He asked.

You shook your head, “…no, I don’t…it was too long ago…” you said, sniffling.

He kissed the top of your head, “That’s alright, sweetheart, we have plenty of time to talk about it.” He assured you, pulling you closer to him.

You closed your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. You felt safe in his arms. Safe and loved.

Alastor flipped the pages until he found the wedding pictures, “Oh, here we are. Look, see how my mother walked you through the aisle?” He rubbed the picture with his thumb, rethinking back the memory.

“…yeah…I remember now…” You snuggled closer into him, trying to control your ragged breathing.

“…just breathe daring.” He reminded you, “Look here, you see how much you’ve changed?” He laughed softly, flipping another page, “See here? Here you are at our anniversary dinner, you wore that beautiful dress that made your legs look amazing.” He blushed lightly, “I remember you told me I was the only one allowed to see it.”

You giggled, “…that was a joke, silly.” You said, opening your eyes and smiling up at him.

“Ah, yes, I know.” He smiled back,

“…You’re so precious to me, y’know that?” He said, leaning down and kissing your forehead.

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NOTES: Idk what i was thinking when i made this fic erm…! Idk I’ve been going thru some shit rn but I’ve gotta impress the community because the notes/likes/comments/reblogs on my posts aren’t doing to good rn!! Oh no!!! (that is a sign from my greedy ass) And i just started a multi-chapter fic so like idk why i’m typing this- support is appreciated. BAI!!![![![11!

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MASTERLIST LINK

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#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x wife reader #alastor #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you

[eupheme]

— common ground [into the fire, part iii]

part i | part ii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, pwp, sex for favors, 1 spank, sub/dom elements, light degradation, use of chems, shotgunning chems, riding, PiV, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: the scene where he complained about doing all the work had me like 👀 (reimagining), so here we go! 💖

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out. Gettin’ you clothes.” A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

(Or - you take the Ghoul for a ride)

"Fuck!”

You crouch outside as another loud shotgun blast fires - the wooden door next to you peppering with bullets.

This wasn't what you had in mind.

You had thought you'd find a chem station in the next town. A pharmacy, an old hospital. Something somewhat respectable - not standing watch as the Ghoul blew his way through a long-abandoned two-story home.

The layered yelling dies off with each pull of his trigger, until everything going silent.

He finds you there a moment later, still curled in on yourself. A roll of his eyes when he sees you - still unused to the violence.

"It's clear." The Ghoul beckons, "Let's find that station."

You follow him inside, your gaze boring a hole into his back. Trying hard not to look down, nose wrinkling when you almost trip over a set of legs that sprawl across the floor.

A hand pinches at your elbow, keeping you upright.

"What?" He asks, at your expression.

"Did you have to..." You start, as he checks down the hallway.

It's empty - the doors leading to two bedrooms. The bed frames bare and rusted, the rooms already picked through.

A shrug, "They shot first."

"You goaded them."

You could hear him, even from outside. That knowing tone - some kind of warning. A rough laugh, and then the firefight had started.

"We're looking for a chem station, sweetheart." He scoffs, head cocking as he backs you up against the door he just closed, "Think they're gonna share with you like you’re on a goddamn play date?"

"They-" You blink up at him, "They might have."

He clicks his tongue, giving you a long look,"You still got a lot to learn, Vaultie."

A second, before he steps away.

"These weren't those kind of people."

You find it in the basement. A man slumped just outside the cracked-open door, the weathered lab coat stained and splattered red on the left-hand side.

Anything salvageable from above must have been brought down here. Three threadbare mattresses behind a makeshift wall. A long couch that faces a television that still runs, the picture blurry with static.

The station sits along the back wall. A beaker still bubbles over the burner, the smell acrid. Bottles litter the surface - something being made in a batch.

Your mind is already racing ahead, eyes scanning for things you'll need. Too-large gloves shoved on, disposing of the burnt mixture while you search for an empty glass.

Missing how he angles the couch to watch, feet propped up on the wooden coffee table. That ever-steady wariness waning with your focus, the tension in his shoulders easing as he sinks into the cushion.

You're too busy to notice. Sorting the different ingredients, littered across the counter.

There's an excess of toxic soot flowers, their petals papery between your fingers. Opened packages of Med-X, a spilled pile of Buffout. A jar of acid.  

Psycho. Cut with something else, something stronger. You think the Ghoul was right - maybe you had been foolish to underestimate them.

You try to shake the thought away, as you gather what you need. Antiseptic, from your own bag. Three jars of glowing fungus, found beneath the sagging counter. Ground up and tipped into a dusty beaker, the heat turned down low.

"Can you get me some water?" You call from over your shoulder, a jar held in your hand.

There's no answer. Silence, until something hard presses into your back, pinning you against the table.

It feels familiar, the way his hips nudge against yours, and it sends your mind back. An urge to arch - bend low. Mimicking the days before, where you can still feel the twinge of him with the stretch of your thighs.

"You think you're callin' the shots now, sweetheart?" His voice is low, the brim of his hat brushing your head as he leans over your shoulder.

"No," You squeak - caught off-guard, "I just-, I can't leave this until it thickens."

"Mm.” His hum is low. “Too bad. Would've liked to see you try.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, that rough drawl, even after the last couple days. A thin layer of suggestion in his tone, as he shifts closer - his chest bumping into your back.

Your mind flickering through possibilities, before his voice cuts through.

“Said you need water?”

"Yes. Please," The nod you give is small - you have to start your stirring over, losing your rhythm, "I saw a few cartons in the kitchen. If you don't mind."

"Polite little thing, when you're distracted," He husks, "I'll have to remember that."

The Ghoul makes no effort to move, though. Fingers wrapping around the glass. His other hand gripping the edge of the table, boxing you in. You wonder if he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest, eyes fixed firmly on your work.

“Where’d you learn to do this?”

It takes you a second to answer - he’d had never offered many questions. Responses that were no more than a couple of words, over the stretch of long hours on the road.

“Uh, my Vault. We were short on hands, my mother was a chemist.” Your words are slow - a still-painful topic, “Used to make all kinds of stuff. Medicine and… and chems, alike.”

People who left were always brought back. Dazed and half-sick from the world above, whatever they had seen. Left at your doorstep to be patched up, if they made it that long.

You always told yourself that wouldn’t be you.

That when you were gone, you’d stay that way.

“Hm.” His tone flattens, “Wouldn’t have guessed. Don’t seem the type.”

“Yeah?” You head turns, catching his shadowed ones. Leaning into the welcome diversion, “What type do I seem like, then?”

The Ghoul’s eyes narrow, an unconscious flick down to your mouth.

“Trouble.” He husks, with a shallow roll of his hips. You can’t help the short inhale that he’s certain to hear, the way your fingers tighten around your instruments.

“Though I’m still workin’ out what kind.”

It’s there that he leaves you. Flustered and silently revisiting evenings before, a familiar anticipation curling low inside you.

The steps creak behind you as he slips upstairs. Returning some time later with what you need - twirling a dented pot found in the kitchen, so you can purify it. Folding himself onto the couch when you tell him it will be a while.

A cut glass decanter salvaged as well, that he drinks directly from. A rough gasp as the bitter alcohol floods through him. Helping himself to the chems that litter the tabletop - before his feet kick up, the hat tipped low over his face.

You think he does rest - a rarity.

You examine him then - as you wait for the water to boil, and then cool, before you can use it to mix with the other components.

Taking the rare chance to do it freely.

In the Wasteland you’ve learned to stay cautious. That you can’t fall behind. That surely he would notice, if your gaze lingered on him for too long.

But here, time seems to slow for a moment. Nothing to do but wait, as your fingers drift to your neck. Pressing into the bruise, as if you could feel the indents of his teeth.

His presence feels the same.

A mark left on you. Something you can’t help but want to touch, even if it aches. A reminder that lingers, and there’s a part of you that wishes it would stay.

It has you wondering, as your eyes sweep across him. Over the long-faded clothes, hiding rough and reddened skin - every inch of him wrapped away.

If you got close enough-

Would you find that he bore a mark of his own?

You make enough for a little over two weeks. Carefully poured and sealed into a variety of small bottles and tubes you’ve scavenged, scraping out every last bit that you can.

In the less-than-stellar conditions, it didn’t turn out so bad. The vials you had seen him buy was a thin, piss-yellow that had made you cringe. Poor work to begin with, and that was even before it was cut with more water.

What you offer out to him is thick - a sheen clinging to the glass as it sloshes, when it passes from your hand to his.

Liquid gold, in comparison.

“Mm.” The Ghoul hums - eyes greedy, as he examines, holding it up to the bit of light.

Before they’re focusing on you. Flickering from head to toe - considering - before his legs spread a bit wider. A hand clapping down against a thigh.

The look you give him is blank. A squeak when his fingers hook around one of your belt loops and pulls - hauling you onto his lap.

“You think I’m just gonna take somethin’ you cooked up?” His brow lifts, hands pinching against your hips, “Not a chance, sweetie. I think we oughta try this together.”

The Ghoul’s fingers slip up then, rucking up the hem of your shirt. His tone turning knowing.

“And I don’t think you’ve got enough in you.”

Your cheeks burn at his insinuation. More than aware, your breath catching as the rough tips of his leather gloves drag across your skin.

“Bet I’ve been leakin’ out of you since last time.” The Ghoul rasps, “Wouldn’t want to waste this, would we?”

He’s solid beneath you. Your thighs splitting on either side of his waist, knees digging into old cushions. Close enough to kiss - if you weren’t so certain he’d bite.

Lost though, on how to proceed. You don’t know the rules to his game. Always keeping you at arms-length - wrists bound, caught in his grip.

Would he let you touch him?

He mistakes your hesitance, his brow pinching.

“Spent enough time starin’. Lookin’ like you wanted to take a ride.” Acid slips into his tone, teeth bared, “Change your mind, now you’ve got a front row seat?”

That knocks you out of your thoughts - embarrassed that you were caught staring at him. Annoyed by his assumption. A scoff, as your hips start to move, a slow roll. Hands coming up to rest against his shoulders, meeting his eyes.

They’re pretty, like the rest of him. Shades of light brown - looking like they’re caught the sun, even underground. Thick lashes, above the deep hollow of sunken eye sockets, the split cavern of his missing nose.

Something that had startled you, the first time you saw him. Now, you hardly even notice. And his mouth -

“I’m not scared of you.” You murmur, watching the way his lip curls in a sneer. A soft sound bitten back as you grind down, feeling how he’s stiff beneath you.

You wonder how long he’s been this way. Hard, from watching you work. Waiting.

Another exchange, though you wish you could tell him it doesn’t have to be that way. You had meant what you said, when you had made your offer - even if you mean it a little differently, now.

Maybe you still could.

“You should be,” The Ghoul growls - hands ghosting over your sides, up to the thin cotton, “If you had any goddamn sense. Letting me touch you like this-”

A hand is cupping your breast now. A hard swipe of his thumb against your stiff peak, your fingers biting down into his jacket.

Your hips jerk against his. A soft moan, when the seam of your pants catches against your clit - leaving you clenching around nothing.

“I want you to.” You confess - catching the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head, “Told you, whatever you want.”

The Ghoul makes a rough sound in his throat, watching as you tug the cups down to fit beneath your breasts, putting yourself on display for him.

“Haven’t learned, have you?” He warns, his voice low, “Don’t make an offer you can’t follow through on.”

The pinch of his fingers sends an ache down to settle between your thighs, the hint of pain pairing with your pleasure.

Your own hand wandering, wanting to see more. Sliding against a leather vest, the stained shirt beneath that was once as blue as your suit. Frayed, looping embroidery on the faded collar.

Feeling the warmth of his skin as you tug at the snap at his throat. An inch, and then another, before he’s catching your hand.

Dragging it up to his shoulders, fixing you with a look, “You best keep those right here.”

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You ask, eyes flicking down to the peek of skin at his throat.

“I want these off.” He tells you instead, snapping the waistband of your pants against skin.

You have to leave him to do it. Watching the way his arms stretch across the back of the sofa, as you kick the pants off, then your underwear beneath.

Bare again, as you settle. Fitting yourself against the curve of his cock. Leather and metal kissing your skin as you move against him, until his lips are parted with a ragged breath.

You can feel your muscles clench. The slick slide of your pussy against his bulge, barely nudging at that deep-seated ache to be filled.

“Makin’ a mess, sweetheart.” He husks, his hips lifting to meet yours. Gloved hands moving to curl around your waist - pulling you down to meet him, coaxing a lazy rhythm from you.

“Rubbin’ up against me like a bitch in heat. Should make you clean that up.”

It coaxes a whine from you, as you let him move you. The sound does something to you - the layered approval in his tone, the low rasp of his voice. Not so unaffected as he seems, with how hard he is beneath you.

He must see it in your expression, a hand leaving the couch to grasp at your chin.

“You need it that bad, sweetheart?”

Making you meet his gaze, as you answer. All dark eyes and the flash of teeth, under the brim of his hat.

“Yes.” You keen, “I need you, please-”

“S’that right? Need me to fuck you? Fill up that greedy little cunt?”

His head tipping back as he hums, as if disappointed. Each word exaggerated, with his slow drawl, “Well, I’d sure like to sweetheart… but it seems to me like I’ve been doing an awful lot of work around here.”

The hand leaves your chin to drop down. Slowly loosening a belt buckle, letting it pool on the cushions. Your cheeks heating when you see the slick shine to the front of his pants, where you’ve rutted yourself against him.

“Findin’ this place. Cleanin’ it out,” His eyes are on yours - your breath short as he tugs the zipper down. “Gettin’ you clothes.”

A sigh, before his voice drops, “Makin’ you come.”

You moan at that, a soft sound caught behind your teeth - fingers pinching into his shoulders.

Waiting for him to draw his cock out - fist wrapped around the base. Flushed and thick in his palm, inches away from where you need him.

The Ghoul does grin then, a wicked thing that shows his teeth.

“Think you oughta return the favor, don’t you?”

He’s giving you an inch - seeing if you’ll try to take a mile. A firm handle, still wrapped around a fist, but loosening the reins.

Letting himself watch.

“Seems fair.” You manage, breathless.

“Then go on,” He husks, “Show me how you can take it.”

Your hand reaches down, but then he’s clicking his tongue - fingers fixing back on his shoulders.

Leaving you to lift your hips. His cock slipping against your slick core, your teeth biting into your lip as you line yourself up - the rough head catching at your entrance.

It’s different this time. Sinking down on him, feeling each inch as it splits you open - instead of suddenly filling you to the hilt.

“Fuck,” You sigh, with the stretch. It twinges deep inside you, where his hips fit against yours.

Lifting yourself only to sink back down, his arms flexing beneath his coat as he lets you ride him, your pace slowly picking up until you’re bouncing on his cock.

As much as you enjoyed last time, there was something about this. Fully able to watch the way his lips part, hear the rattling groan when you tighten around him.

See the way his eyes skate across the bruise on your neck, only to drop down to watch the sway of your tits as your fingers lace behind his neck.

“Goddamn, sweetheart.” His hand flattens against the small of your back. The other gripping your hip, tugging you towards him, “You sure know how to ride.”

Not giving you time to answer, before his head is dipping. The brim of his hat knocking back when it hits your chin - the tips of your fingers just catching it. Slipping it on your own head for safekeeping before he can protest.

It earns you a sharp nip against the curve of your breast, before his lips close around the tight peak of a nipple and sucks.

You cry out, chasing the pressure that builds in your belly. Growing even more wet with the slick swirl of his tongue and the scrape of teeth - his cock grinding against a spongy spot inside you as you arch into his mouth.

“Please,” You whine, fingers flexing and then curling. Needing more friction against your clit, where your heartbeat has dropped and settled.

Trying so hard to listen, a whine between your gritted teeth. Your tits glossy with spit when he leans back, giving you a knowing look.

“You wanna come?” He husks - his eyes dropping, as you nod, “Only if you lean back and show me, sweetheart.”

Relief sings in you, as you adjust. Thighs spreading, as you grip onto his shoulder. Leaning back until he can watch the way he spears into you. How he shines, all slicked up, with each roll of your hips.

Your other hand loses its grip in his coat to slip down, press where your bodies meet.

Fingertips circle, a low moan at the much-needed touch. Your rhythm grows sloppy until his hands hook beneath your thighs. Guiding you into a harsh rhythm, each pound of his cock winding you higher and higher as the couch creaks beneath you.

“Come on, cowpoke.” He rasps, his hand cracking down against your ass, “Is that the best you can do?”

It builds - your fingers pressing harder against the slick bud. Whimpered noises that are more sound than words, as his thighs spread, feet planting so he can drive up into you.

“I said come on.” He growls, “Wanna feel you come on my cock again.”

Like before, it feels like the control slips through your fingers. Your own touch brings you close to that edge, but it’s the pounding of his cock that makes you fall.

Your back arching, crying out as your core clenches. Pleasure bursting deep inside you, racing up your spine and down to the tips of your fingers and pointed toes.

The quick thrust slowa into a lazy grind. A low “atta girl” that he grits out, as he feels the way you come hard around him.

Eyes dropping from your face to watch the greedy press of your fingers as you draw it out - until his own hand is wrapping around your wrist.

Tugging your hand away as the pleasure still courses inside you, hips still chasing the last ripples as you ride his cock.

Bringing your fingers to his mouth. Fitting them against teeth and tongue as his lips close around, tasting the slick that clings to them.

It makes goosebumps raise on your skin. The briefest thrill of fear. Certain that if you pulled your fingers free right now, the flesh and muscle would peel from you - leaving only bones behind.

He groans loudly around them, teeth indenting your skin. Tongue swirling against your knuckles, his hips rocking up to meet yours.

Freeing you, only to grasp at your hips - urging you to move faster. A loud slap of skin until his jaw is clenching - and he’s bringing you down once more against him with a rough sound.

Coming inside you again, but this time you get to see the way his head tips back with his snarl. How his fingers bite into your skin as you feel him throb - throat bared as he spills deep inside you with each rough jerk of his hips.

A flare of something flicking to life in your belly, knowing you did this to him. The groan he made when he tasted you echoing in your mind, giving you something to keep.

You make to move when he goes still, but a hand grips at your hip - holding you in place. Keeping you full of him, as the afterglow still glitters in your veins.

His eyes are dark, fixed on you. Taking in your shadowed, half-lidded gaze - sweat-dewed and bare skinned against him. His hat, still perched on your head. Looking like it belongs there.

A hand digs around in his bag. Pulling out the inhaler for his serum. Snapping it together without his gaze leaving you.

Bringing it to his mouth after - sucking in a deep, held breath. Those eyes closing with a low, contented groan.

A broad hand slips from your hip to splay across the back of your neck, fingers digging into your throat. Pulling you down to him - just as his head tilts to press his lips against yours.

Just as you soften, he exhales - the RadAway flooding through your parted lips. A stinging, metallic taste of iodine that makes you shudder, before you realize he’s deepening the kiss.

You lean into it without thought. The ache in your gums fading with the brush of his tongue. His grip anchoring you in place as he takes, licking into your mouth while his cock still fills you.

Leaving you breathless. Letting him, as your own arms wrap around his shoulders to keep him close. Meeting the messy scrape of teeth and swirl of tongue. The sharp taste fading, layered with the whisky and a hint of you that still lingers.

Before he’s pulling back far too soon, eyes dark as he pants.

“Fuck.” He rasps - his tongue tasting where yours had been, flicking across a lower lip. Before he’s looking at the inhaler - shaking it for another use.

“Looks like I might just have to keep you around.”

You make what you can with the rest of the supplies afterward - waste not, want not. An extra stimpak. Swiping the rest of the mentats, keeping the grape and berry ones for yourself. Refilling your canteen with more of the purified water.

The rest of the chems you gather - packing them in a tin. Tossing them his way, a low whistle when he sees what’s inside.

It’s late enough that the Ghoul decides it’s best to stay here, and leave at dawn. Certain that he will catch up to the bounty tomorrow, already sure of two places where he might be offloading the stolen wares.

You don’t mind. The uneasy thought of sleeping in a house with corpses quickly overshadowed by the real mattresses waiting in the basement. Stained but there’s still bedding - patched up blankets.

A fire, that he coaxes to life in the fireplace upstairs. Dinner, roasting over it.

It almost feels like something. A moment you can play pretend - that these walls will keep you safe.

That maybe you could clean it up.

That maybe he didn’t despise you, and maybe he’d want to stay.

It’s a foolish thought, a sigh as you push it from you. Digging a spoon into the rusted can of Pork ‘N Beans you had scavenged - not trusting the look of the skewer he had been tending.

A thumb running across your lower lip, as you chew. Remember how his had felt. Examining the angry marks pressed into your knuckles. 

His shadow crosses over you, then - you have to crane your neck up to see him. His hat back where it belongs, much like your own clothes.

The tilt of his head, as he considers you again. Before his hand is slipping into the bag that slings across his shoulder.

Gloved fingers curling around something - tossing it silently into your lap, before he’s disappearing upstairs to finish his sweep of the house.

It’s golden, in the light of the fireplace. Seems like he’s already done a little looting of his own. A rolled up bag, the tube and needle tucked inside.

And a bottle of the RadAway you made for him.

save a horse, ride a cowboy and all that 🤠💖 (thank you so much for reading! would love to know what you thought if you enjoyed!)

#please mind the tags! #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #fallout tv series #fallout #cooper howard

[featherandferns]

guilty as sin? (fic - part 1/2)

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | largely inspired by the bible

content warning: sexual content; mentions of parental abuse (physical abuse) | any questions for trigger warnings, feel free to inbox anonymously

word count: 14k.

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

“And this is your room.”

The syrup-coloured wood is the first thing your eyes meet when John B pushes open the bedroom door. There’s the vague lingering smell of teenage boy which he’s tried to air out, the window open ajar, and the clutter of his belongings has been moved to make space for your own. As you drop your duffel bag and step into the room, you take in the walls. There’s posters and prints stuck above his bed, dotted around on slats of wood separating windows: someone surfing; a rockstar smashing his guitar. An old skateboard deck is nailed into the wall alongside a license plate. The sheets are bright blue, the bed freshly made, and a clean towel is folded up at the foot. It’s well-lit with plenty of daylight flowing through the many windows. Homely and inviting.

“Is it, uh, alright?”

You turn to find John B leaning against the doorframe, hands in his short pockets. Smiling, you nod.

“It’s perfect,” you tell him. “I’m honestly chill with crashing on the couch, though.”

It’s pretty obvious this was his room: you feel guilty kicking him out.

He shakes his head and gestures with his thumb over his shoulder. “I moved into my dad’s room anyway. This has been the spare for a while.”

“Well, thanks,” you smile.

He nods, mirroring your content. “I’ll let you settle in and stuff. I moved all my crap out the closet so you can put your stuff in there, and the top bedside drawer is empty.”

“That’s perfect,” you say. You lift your bag with a grunt and dump it on the bed.

“I gotta go to work but call if you need anything. Shouldn’t be back too late.”

Unzipping your bag, you look to him. “Where’d you work?”

“Got this gig helping out at Ward Cameron’s. Don’t know if you remember him?”

“Course I do,” you snort. “The kingpin of Kildare, and your dad’s treasure hunting buddy.”

There’s a tense silence as your words catch up with you. You press your eyes shut, embarrassed.

“Shit, sorry. That didn’t come out how I meant it to.”

“It’s cool,” John B says, graciously gliding past it. “Anyway, he pays pretty good so can’t complain. Mostly just handy-man odd jobs.”

“Very noble work,” you joke.

With a quiet laugh, John B nods and backs out the door. He lingers another moment, contemplating saying something else. “Look, uh, I know it isn’t ideal circumstances, you coming back to Kildare and stuff, but I’m glad you’re here. Really. It’s nice having you back, sis.”

Your mood sobers, smile turning solemn.

“Thanks,” you quietly reply.

He nods once more and pats the doorframe in farewell. “Right, I’ll let you get unpacked. See you later.”

“See ya.”

When John B leaves – the front door shuddering against the house as it slams shut – you’re overcome with quiet. In Colorado, where you lived with your mom in the city, there was little nature. You forgot how peaceful Kildare is. Through the crack in the window, birdsong and cricket chimes accompany the sound of your unpacking. You turf out your clothes and take to putting them in the closet. Shoes and bags and bikinis. A jacket and a few sweatshirts. It was easy enough to plan for your outfits considering you’re only staying the summer. You remember the weather in Kildare well enough from when you used to live here.

Once you’ve unpacked your clothes, you find your paints. A box of watercolours which have seen much use and love, the hinges rusted and the inside of the palette smeared with dried mixed paint. Turning to the bedside table, you pull open the bottom drawer on accident. You come face to face with corny porno magazines, a box of tissues, two wrapped condoms and a half empty bottle of painkillers.

“Gross,” you mutter, slamming it shut. Yep, this was definitely a dude’s bedroom.

The top drawer is empty, like John B promised. You fill it with your paints and sketchbooks and pencils.

As the day ploughs on, the room becomes increasingly saturated with your personality. Postcards from Colorado, of the towns and cities you visited, photographs from school of your friends and classmates: you scatter them along them wall, amongst John B’s. Some of your favourite paintings, alongside artists which inspire you, join the mix. On the desk you add a few of your own books to the haphazard stack of abandoned homework and school reports.

At the bottom of your duffle bag is your penny board. You look around the room, searching for empty space to slot it without adding to already cluttered surroundings, and opt to slot it under the bed. Ducking down, you come face to face with a collection of empty beer cans. Clearly the spring cleaning only went so far. It’s noisy as you drag them out, but you’re certain you hear someone shouting. Pausing, sitting back on your haunches, you turn to peer out the open bedroom door. It’s silent for a moment, and then you hear footsteps.

“Yo! JB, you home?”

It’s a guy shouting. His voice sounds vaguely familiar. When he comes into the corridor, he glances into Big John’s bedroom (now claimed by your older half-brother) first. Blonde messy hair and well-worn combat boots instantly name him. JJ.  He turns to the spare bedroom and stops short the moment his eyes land on you, sat amongst a pile of trash.

“You’re not John B,” he says.

“What gave me away?” you reply with a lift of your brows.

There’s a long awkward moment where he stares at you. You can practically hear the cogs turning as he takes you in. When you lift your arm up to scratch the back of your neck, realisation dawns upon him. You imagine your scar on the outside of your elbow gave you away.

“Holy crap! Little Routledge?” he gapes.

You laugh. “Haven’t been called that in a minute.”

JJ steps into the room and you get to your feet. He tackles you into a hug. It’s too short, too sudden, and then he’s stepping away from you again, leaving you dizzy on your feet.

“The fuck? You’re, like, grown now,” he says.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “well, I am sixteen.”

“The fuck!” he repeats. He then takes in where you’re standing, and the state of the room, and frowns. “Wait, what are you doing here? I thought you were in Colorado with your mom?”

“I was,” you say. You kick one of the cans out the way and fold your arms over your chest, shrugging. “I came back for the summer.”

“Oh, that’s sick!”

You laugh. It’s a nice reaction to have from someone who you haven’t seen for over two years.

“John B gave you his old room then?”

He walks into it as if it’s his own. You watch as he studies the new additions to the wall that you’ve added. Lingers on one of your paintings.

"Yeah, he’s moved into his dad’s, apparently.”

“Yeah, he moved in there a while ago,” JJ tells you. “I’ve been sleeping in here most of the time.”

Your mind flashes back to the bedside drawer stocked with teenage boy necessities. Ah, makes sense. You remember how JJ was when you were a dorky thirteen-year-old. At the ripe age of fourteen, he had girls fawning after him. He was shameless in his reputation. The conversations you overheard between himself and John B as he’d brag about his escapades are seared into your memory, as you felt your wasted preteen heart splinter with every tale. It’s no surprise now that he’s probably just as unruly. Especially considering how he looks. There isn’t much time to ogle though because he’s looking away from the décor, meeting your gaze again.

“That explains all the empty beer cans, then,” you say.

He cringes. “Yeah, uh, sorry ‘bout that.”

You shrug. “It’s cool. I need to toss ‘em out but I don’t know where the trash bags are…”

“Oh, right,” he says, breezing past you. His cologne lingers in the air when he leaves. There’s the smallest moment for you to catch your breath as JJ bangs around in the kitchen, and then he reappears with a roll of black bags. Tosses them to you and you catch. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

You begin to shove the cans into the bag and JJ starts to help. His black button-up gapes open as he leans over and it takes everything not to glance down his shirt like some pervert.

“How come you didn’t want to stay in Colorado for the summer, then?”

“Change of scenery,” you vaguely reply. It isn’t a complete lie, but it isn’t the whole truth either.

“Well, you chose the best summer to come back. Our mission this year is to have the best summer of all time.”

“Pretty lofty goal to set,” you chuckle.

JJ glances up at you, flashing you a grin. “Nah, we got it in the bag.”

You find yourself smiling back, held captive under his stare. When he takes the now full trash bag off you, tying it off, you snap out of it.

“So, where’s your brother at then?” he asks, heading out the room. You follow.

“At work. Said he does jobs for Cameron now.”

“Oh, yeah. Cameron sorta took him under his wing after his dad…went missing,” JJ replies.

You have a feeling that the way people talk about John B’s father is rather doctored.

“I can’t believe he’s gone,” you tell him, referring to Big John.

As you step on the porch, the sunlight warms your face. The floorboards creak as you make your way down them, to the garbage can outside.

“It was insane,” JJ says to you. He tosses the trash away. “I mean, we all knew Big John was a bit too into the whole royal-merchant thing but…we never thought it’d go that far, you know?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Scary.”

JJ looks at you a moment longer. Then, he laughs to himself and shakes his head. “Can’t believe you’re sixteen now.”

“Can’t believe you’re seventeen.”

“What? I look good or something?”

He does a small spin on the spot, arms held out by his sides. You roll your eyes, acting as if you’re unaffected. It’s hard to swallow the reflex reaction of yes.

“Or something,” you say.

JJ takes it in stride. “Well, you look pretty cute yourself considering you’ve been in the mountains for the last three years.”

“I don’t live in the mountains,” you snort. The word ‘cute’ rattles around your head like a pinball.

“You’re taller now too. Practically come up to my shoulders. I remember when me and John B could pick you up by your ankle like a marlin.”

“Yeah, I remember that too,” you not-so-fondly recall.

JJ grins and steps over to you. Despite both of your growth spurts, you still have to look up at him, and him down at you. His eyes are just as dreamy as you remember them. When you first left for Colorado, you hardly had time to pack. In the midst of chaos, taking a picture of your brother’s best friend didn’t seem all that important. Cut to you spending endless nights trying to remember his eyes, the exact colour and the exact shape. Trying to remember the dimples that popped out when he smiled. The pure joy in his laugh. The way your heart felt like it might explode whenever he looked at you, even if it were for a second.

But when JJ pats your head, your chest deflates.

“Well, see you around, little Routledge,” he says, stepping away. “Tell your brother I was looking for him.”

Because even after all these years, you’re still just John B’s little sister in JJ’s eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You stare into your can of cider. In the night, the only light being that from the bonfire John B started up in the backyard, you can’t make out the colour of it. Just the swirling of liquid. You’d spent the last three days working on a watercolour of the marsh side to John B’s house, but you couldn’t capture the movement of the water quite right.

“Wait, I’m confused,” Pope frowns.

“What’s there to be confused about, Pope?” JJ sighs, seemingly exhausted from the questions. There had been an influx of them the minute John B brought you out of the Chateau. “His mom shagged her dad and boom, here she is.”

“Charming mental images there, JJ, thanks,” John B cringes.

You laugh into your drink.

“No, I get that. But…You used to live here, right?” Pope asks you.

You nod.

“But then you moved to Colorado?”

“Yeah?”

“But now you’re back here?”

“Apparently,” you say.

Pope’s frown deepens: apparently that cleared nothing up for him. You’ve never known someone so analytical. “This is complicated,” he observes.

“No shit,” Kiara quips.

It was complicated. Families usually are. Your mom had split from John B’s dad when he was three years old. She ran off to Raleigh, in North Carolina, and met a guy pretty quick. That’s when you came into the picture, born almost a year behind John B. Their relationship was rocky, to say the least, and at some point your mom decided that it may be best for you to get to know your half-brother whilst her and your dad “figured things out”. What was meant to be a short stay at Big John’s house became a four-year affair. Then, at thirteen, your mom decided to flee the state, away from your dad, and she was taking you with her. It all came out of the blue. You weren’t exactly thrilled to go to Colorado. You liked Kildare, and North Carolina, and John B and his friends. Kiara was always nice to you. She never talked down to you, despite you being seen as John B’s little sister. You bonded over turtles and Bob Marley. JJ was different. He’d prank you with John B and tease you about your dolls, but he’d also patch you up if you fell and calm you down after a nightmare. Your crush on him evolved naturally over time. What started as childhood infatuation with the supposed delinquent of Kildare became real. You liked JJ. He was funny and rambunctious, but he had a kindness and tenderness that he kept hidden below. He was often at the house as his own family situation was far from perfect, so having him around became as familiar as John B’s presence. When you left, JJ gave you a hug that you wished would last a lifetime.

But you drifted away in Colorado. You didn’t have anybody’s phone number, save for Big John’s (which your mom refused to let you use), and you were too young to remember addresses to write to them. Social media was never something you latched onto and eventually it all faded away into a strange, dreamlike memory. Being back here is almost proof that you didn’t imagine the whole thing.

“We’re half siblings,” you say, whittling down your family history into a simple statement. “That’s all you really need to know.”

“Damn straight,” JJ whoops, downing the last of his drink. He crunches the can in his fist and heads to the cooler for another.

“You’re staying for the whole summer then?” Kiara asks.

You nod. “I’m tryna get a job at this restaurant in town to keep me busy.”

“Screw that. Just come smoke and surf with us all day, that’ll keep you occupied,” JJ grins.

He’s comfortable in himself, relaxing in a lawn chair, legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. His t-shirt represents one of Kildare’s small-town establishments and his shorts are stained with dust and dirt from riding his bike.

“She’s the good one out of us lot,” John B announces, gesturing to you. “Out of all the Routledge offspring, she’s gonna go places. You’re not gonna taint that, JJ.”

“And by ‘all the Routledge offspring’ you mean yourself and her?” Pope checks.

John B nods fervently. “I’m telling you! She’s madly talented.”

“You’re drunk; it’s giving you beer goggles,” you dismiss, finishing your drink.

“You were always the creative one,” JJ remarks. Everyone looks over to him. “Me and John B would be out on the water and she’d be drawing it.”

“Maybe you can show us some of your stuff,” Kiara says.

You laugh and shake your head. “Maybe not.”

The alcohol wizzes up your body as you get to your feet and you take it as a good time to call it quits.

“I think I’m gonna head in.”

“What?”

“No!”

“Come on!”

You laugh, shaking off the group’s disputes. “I’m tired!”

“Lightweight,” JJ teases. You flip him off as you pass, ditching your empty can in the garbage as you go.

“Night guys!” you holler as you head back into the house.

“Night!”

The bedroom John B offered you is starting to feel less like a guest house. You shrug off your cardigan – it stinks of smoke from the fire – and close the door. Through the window, you can hear the group chattering.

Pope seems nice. He hadn’t been around when you lived in Kildare, but you recognised his name. Heyward was a legend on the Cut; you could see his dad in his eyes. Kiara was just as you remembered her, if not more consumed by her environmental activism than before. JJ was the most staggering change of all. He’d grown into his looks, matured around the face. Any puppy fat that you remembered from childhood had vanished. Lithe and lively, he was an American heartthrob, through and through.

As you do your skincare, you glance out the window. You can make out JJ, sat with his back to you. His arms are flailing around as he tells a story. You can’t make out the details through the window but the looks on everyone’s faces tells you it’s pretty damn entertaining. He was always the joker, humour hiding whatever was happening underneath like he was arming himself with a grin. The unexplained bruises on his face and the painful batterings on his body were never explained whenever he’d stay at Big John’s, when you were younger.

The moment he shifts in his seat, you dart away from the window, scared to get caught, and finish getting ready for bed.

A bad dream rouses you awake. It was about Colorado. The warped memories keep you from falling back asleep, no matter how hard you try. Sighing, you stare at the ceiling. The room is bathed in moonlight, cosy in the wooden interior, and you contemplate sitting outside for a bit. The same cardigan from earlier gets pulled on over your vest top and you slip into some crocs.

You head for the front door, creeping past John B’s room, and step onto the porch. There’s a warm, humid air in the night. The crickets and owls harmonise with the faint buzz of mosquitos who surround the porch light. That’s when you realise that it’s already on, and you’re not alone. JJ’s on the porch, laid out on the sofa. He’s smoking a joint. The smell of weed merges into that of the dying embers from the abandoned, extinguished bonfire. You rap gently on the wall as you approach, hoping not to startle him.

“Hey,” he says, looking up at the sound.

“Hey.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“No,” you say. “I thought everyone went home.”

“They did. I’m crashing here tonight. My dad’s…”

He falters, glances up at you, and shakes his head.

“Don’t need to bore you with it.”

“You’re not boring,” you hear yourself tell him.

Smiling, JJ offers the joint to you. You take it, sitting down in the red armchair at the foot of the sofa. The weed consumes your senses when you take a drag, hitting the back of your throat and dulling your thoughts.

“Haven’t smoked in ages,” you say.

“Big smoking community out in Colorado?” JJ asks.

You laugh. “Not where I live, no.”

He takes the joint back when you lean over to him. Tilts his head back as he takes another hit. He’s in the same clothes as earlier, hasn’t even taken off his boots; his hair is tousled like he tried to sleep but couldn’t. You’re caught in the act of staring at him. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even make a joke. Instead, he holds your gaze. It’s almost like a silent challenge: who’ll break first?

“Can I say something kinda inappropriate?” he asks.

“I feel like you have to, now.”

JJ grins at that, amused. “You’re way cuter than I remember you.”

“Oh? You mean sweaty thirteen-year-old, chalk-highlight-pink-hair wasn’t cute?” you joke.

Shaking his head, he adds, “No. Well, yeah, but not in the way you are now.”

Your stomach tightens and heart constricts, and you wish you had the joint to have something to distract yourself with. You hope you sound calm and collected when you say, “thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“Oh, you’re too kind,” JJ jokes. He takes another long, deep drag. “Is it nice? Being back in Kildare?”

You glance off to the marsh. You forgot to check the time when you got up but judging from the endless navy blue of the sky, it’s still late.

“Sure.”

“Sure?”

You look back to him. “It’s better than Colorado.”

“So, you’re not missing home then?”

The blunt is passed back to you. Taking a drag, you ponder his question. “I don’t think I know where home is right now. I don’t think it’s Colorado, but I don’t know if it’s here either. Maybe I don’t have one.”

JJ doesn’t say anything and you remember yourself. Laughing self-deprecatingly, you shake your head.

“Sorry, think this joint’s going to my head. That was dramatic.”

“No, no, I get ya,” JJ assures. “I know what you mean.”

“You don’t like Kildare?” you ask him.

His expression darkens like a shadow has cast over him. “It depends.”

“Hm,” you say. Nothing more is said on the matter. You get the sense that JJ was vague on purpose.

Pulling your legs into your seat, you glance around at the clutter on the porch. A surfboard is lent against the nett lining of the porch; a rusting duck ornament balances on one of the beams. What looks to be a broken radio sits beside a half-full bottle of rum on a small table by the couch.

“I think it’s good for John B, having you back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ smiles. “He sorta spun out when his dad disappeared. You’re kinda the only family he has left.”

“You’re his family too. Been around longer than I have,” you tell him.

JJ’s smile softens. He glances away from you, fiddling with the paper of the joint, almost as if he’s flustered. “Thanks.”

“So,” you say, “you got some poor girl on this island falling after you?”

“Rude of you to assume there’s only one,” JJ grins wickedly.

You roll your eyes.

“What about you? Some West Coast jock waiting for you back in the home state?”

The sarcastic ‘har har’ that he gets has JJ frowning, bemused.

“Definitely no guy, and definitely no jock.”

“Now that I find hard to believe,” JJ says.

Before you can ask what he means by that, or spiral out by thinking too much about it, JJ’s getting to his feet. He puts the blunt out on the window ledge, ditching the empty butt in a filthy dish. Stretching his arms over his head, sighing, you watch as his t-shirt rides up. The tensing of his abdominal muscles is like torture. God, to run your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, tangle them in the salt-soaked strands of his hair…

“Right, night Little Routledge,” JJ says.

You blink away from his chest and meet his gaze. There’s a strange expression on his face, one you don’t recognise, and you want to scrutinise it and find out what it means. But it’s gone in a flash, as is he as he heads back into the house. You watch through the window as his silhouette drops onto the pull-out sofa.

It takes a minute to regain your composure.

You can’t think of JJ like that. He certainly doesn’t think of you like that, and that childhood crush has long been put to bed. Shaking it awake is the last thing you need right now. Besides, he’s John B’s best friend. Your brother’s best friend. The same brother who’s taken you back into his house, offered you a room, free of charge, without complaint or question. And it seems like John B needs as many people around him as possible right now. But it’s hard to maintain that line of thought, when as you lie back down in your bed, desperate to get some sleep, you can vividly picture the slit of JJ’s chest that you were privy to just moments ago when you close your eyes.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

You follow Tom through the restaurant. He’s the supervisor, eighteen and a fresh high school graduate. It’s hard to keep up with him as he points things out: waiter’s station; kitchen; storeroom…You’d forgotten how overwhelming job orientations can be.

“And this,” he pushes a door open, “is the staff room.”

You glance in and take in the messy pile of shoes, the overflowing trash can, and the three coat pegs overwhelmed with bags and hoodies.

“Love what you’ve done with the space.”

Tom laughs. He closes the door and leans against the doorframe. Broad shouldered, he stands taller than you by a couple inches.

“So, what made you want to work here?”

“I’m really interested in not being broke,” you reply, making him laugh.

“You new to the island? Feel like I haven’t seen you around?”

“This island that small?”

“Or you’re just that unforgettable,” he smoothly returns.

Your face fires up. Laughing nervously, you shift your stance. “I just moved in with my half-brother for the summer. Need something to keep me busy for a few months.”

“Ah, sweet. Anyone I’d know?”

“Dunno,” you say. He starts back into the main restaurant building. They haven’t opened yet. It’s void of life. “John B Routledge?”

“Oh shit, yeah. JB,” he says, flashing you a grin.

He’s charming in a disarming way. The kind of face that a modelling agency would swipe up because of his easy marketability.

When the two of you approach the bar, there’s a girl stood polishing wine glasses. She looks to be about your age, maybe a couple of years older. Her smile is sweet and welcoming like warm hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Hey, Lizzy. This is the new starter,” Tom introduces.

“I’m guessing I got the job then?” you ask him. He nods. With that, you offer a hand to Lizzy.

“Nice to meet ya,” she says, shaking it. “Could do with more girls around here.”

“Happy to help,” you reply.

“So, you think you can cover a shift tomorrow night? I figured cause you’ve waitressed before it shouldn’t take too long for you to learn the ropes here,” Tom says.

You nod. “Sure. Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow then,” he says.

You bid farewell to himself and Lizzy, seeing yourself out the front door. The restaurant is in the heart of the cut, surrounded by other small businesses and hipster start-ups. You begin the journey home, plugging in your headphones and submerging yourself in Reggae music. Children play in the local park and preteens chatter as they speed past you on their bikes. There’s a warm breeze that brushes past you; it smells of sea water and fried fish. You’re passing the harbour. Eyes land on Heyward’s store, the logo just as you remember it from all those years ago. It’s surreal being back.

When your phone buzzes, you pause your sightseeing to check it. It might be John B asking after the interview. Your throat closes up when you see your mom’s contact pop up. A text. ‘Call me back.’

Just like that, you’re dragged out of Kildare and are back in Colorado.

It’s impossible to ignore the text, but you do your best either way. You don’t even remember half the journey to the Chateau as you walk through the door. JJ is home. He’s sat at the messy dining table, eating a bowl of cereal and scrolling through his phone. Tugging out your earbuds, you give a small wave hello.

“How’d the interview go? That was today, right?”

“Smashed it. Got the job,” you say.

“Oh, sweet. Congrats.”

“Thanks.”

You ditch your bag by the door along with your phone. Taking the seat opposite him, you sit cross-legged on the wooden chair. The sketchbook you’d abandoned earlier lays dormant. Opening it up, you flick to your latest piece of the marsh. It’s coming together rather well. You’d decided to add the H.M.S Pogue, sat harboured on the grass. JJ peers over his bowl to the painting.

“Holy shit. That’s sick,” he says through his mouthful of Captain Crunch.

“Thanks,” you smile. “I’m pretty happy with how it’s come out, considering how old these paints are.”

JJ watches as you crack open the aforementioned watercolours. The smell of artificial paint teases the air. Dampening a thin brush in the mason jar of water, you dip into the blue.

“They bad quality or something?”

“A little. They best ones are Winsor and Newton, but I can’t justify spending over twenty bucks on paints.”

“Why not? You’ve clearly got a gift,” JJ says.

You hate how casual he is when he says things like that to you. Like it doesn’t knock the breath out of you like a sucker punch to the chest.

“S’just practice,” you mumble.

You can feel his gaze as you paint. Resting your chin in your hand, you work at the water under the jetty, trying to perfect the shading. You want to feel as though you can walk into the painting; like you could drown in the crystal clean waves.

Painting had become an escape when you were in Colorado. Whatever you could remember of Kildare, you’d paint. When that well ran dry, you began to paint places you wished you could go. Anywhere but the dilapidating family home you’d found yourself in. Secret gardens made of twisting ivy and crumbling, ornate statues hidden amongst orchids and rose bushes. Cosmic planes with make-believe ice cream stations snuck onto Mars and Venus; whales which bathed in the stars and caught a tan in moonbeams. Underwater societies full of sea kelp and multicoloured coral reefs, with octopi hiding amongst crabs and shellfish.

You glance up to find JJ transfixed on the painting. There’s a crease between his brows as if he’s the one concentrating. It makes you laugh, quiet and under breath, and he looks up. Holds your stare.

“That’s amazing, that you can just do that,” JJ says, remarking to your work.

You swallow the sickly rush that his words give you. His tongue dampens his lower lip, tantalisingly slow. You feel it hit somewhere deep inside of you. Something in the air shifts.

Then, so quiet neither of you can be sure he really said it, he utters, “you’re amazing.”

“Yo!”

The door swings open with your brother’s arrival. Your head spins over your shoulder to the front door. John B stands holding a bag of takeout burgers in the air beside his head.

“Y’all hungry?”

“Hell yeah,” JJ says.

When you look to him, it feels as if you could have imagined the whole interaction had just moments ago. JJ’s sat in his seat as he was before, unfazed.

He abandons his cereal and follows John B into the kitchen like a starving dog, begging for food. You place your paintbrush back into the water and join them. John B unpacks the burgers and fries onto half-clean plates. You watch JJ toss a fry into the air and catch it, whooping in celebration. A plate is handed back to you, over John B’s shoulder.

“Beef burger with cheese, no pickles.”

“Thank you,” you sing-song, taking the plate off him.

JJ turns around and looks at you with faux disgust. “No pickles?”

You shake your head, heading back to the table. JJ and John B join you with their own quick dinners, and the three of you eat. You tell John B about the summer job you secured, and he tells you and JJ about Sarah Cameron and her new boy-toy Topper. JJ says he’s “biceps without a brain” when you ask which one Topper is.

“That can’t be his real name,” you snort.

“Oh, it is,” John B replies.

“His name is almost as dumb as he is,” JJ sniggers.

There’s the sound of chewing and swallowing.

“Two official weeks into summer,” John B randomly announces.

You quirk a brow. “Two weeks since I came back to Kildare.”

JJ holds his cup of soda up in a toast. John B wipes his mouth and raises his own, as do you. The three of you clink cups, smiling at the stupidity. As you bring your cup to your lips to drink, you find your eyes meeting JJ’s across the table. He holds your gaze as he sips, swallows and licks his lips of the sugar. You feel it hit somewhere deep, deep inside of you. JJ looks back to John B and starts recounting his tales of the day fishing, leaving you stumped.

What the hell was that?

~*~*~*~*~*~*

As your days in Kildare stretch on, your imagination becomes your most loved and loathed place all at once.

The Pogues had taken you under their wing without a second thought. It felt as if it wasn’t just because you were John B’s younger sister. Kiara would spend hours talking to you about music and star signs. Pope would discuss books and artists that he’d read about, falling into a huge debate about whether Andy Warhol is as legendary as everyone makes him out to be (the answer is, of course, yes). You and John B connected as brother and sister, filling that hole of ‘family’ that had been taken from both of you within the past year. Movie nights sharing popcorn and critiquing corny horror films, and mornings spent tending to the yard and fishing at the jetty: you felt yourself coming back bit by bit, in the company of the brunette.

But spending time with the Pogues came with spending more time with JJ. That little childhood crush that you’d claimed had succumb a long, undisturbed slumber…Oh, she had been awoken. Him staying over more and more on the pull-out when him and his dad ‘got into a thing’ meant the throw pillows smelt like his cologne and soap. He’d offer you his sweatshirt when sat around the bonfire on evenings drinking, and the warm distinct smell of him would consume you, drown you in the pheromones, affecting you like some pathetic animal in heat. Days spent surfing and sunbathing at the break gave you space to shamelessly ogle his bare chest, splattered in sea water, scorched and tanned with sunlight. The ripple of his lats when wearing his useless muscle tees as he waxed his board in the surf shack. His jawline strong and steely when annoyed or focused, with faint blonde stubble a week after shaving. But you swear he knew how it affected you. Swear he knew it drove you crazy whenever he’d fleetingly touch your back, brushing past you in the kitchen to grab a drink, or adjust your grip when helping him fix up his bike. When sharing a blunt on the porch (as you often did when sleep couldn’t come), he’d take his time passing it to you, fingers brushing. Innocent, incidental touches that felt calculated and planned. The way his eyes would gaze into yours, like he could read your thoughts and decipher your wants. A vague, barely-there smirk to his lips, constantly tortured by his tongue and teeth…

God, your whole body feels as if it has been on fire for the past week.

You blame your overactive thoughts of JJ on your boredom. Working at the restaurant hadn’t been sufficient distraction from the mess that is your life right now. Even now, as you stand before the till, typing through an order for the kitchen and bar, you feel your mind wandering. To thoughts of the Chateau, and to a certain blonde-haired guy sprawled on the pull-out sofa, shirtless, back on proud display…

“You gonna be much longer?”

“No, I shouldn’t be,” you say to Tom.

You hope your embarrassment doesn’t read on your face. It’s not as if he could hear your thoughts, so you’re not sure why you feel caught in the act. You finish selecting the sides for table 16 and press ‘store table’. Stepping to the side to grab some side plates, Tom takes over the till.

He’s nice. Makes you laugh a lot at work, as you slander rude tables and gush over those that tip an extra twenty.

After depositing the side plates at the table, you head to the bar to run the drinks you put through. Lizzy is mixing the cocktail you ordered. She pours rum into a shaker and then passionfruit puree.

“Can I ask you something?” you say to her.

She glances over. The two of you had gotten closer at work. You were hoping to hang out with her one time down at the beach, or maybe grab lunch after a morning shift. She runs a hand over her buzzcut hair style and nods.

“Do you think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?”

“Bit deep to be asking that at eight o’clock at night, don’t you think?” she smirks.

You roll your eyes. As she goes on making the cocktail, you elaborate. “I have this dumbass crush on this guy which I know I shouldn’t have…I just feel bad for thinking about him so much.”

“Well, that’s dumb,” she snorts.

There’s the loud rattle of ice against stainless steel as Lizzy shakes the cocktail. Then, as she strains it into a martini glass, she looks up at you once more.    

“Who’s this guy? Do I know him?”

“Maybe.”

Her eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Is it Tom?”

And, no, it isn’t Tom, but maybe saying it is means she won’t keep digging. You’d rather keep your embarrassing years-long infatuation with your brother’s best friend close to the chest. So, you do your best to look meek as you nod.

“Holy shit! Well, if it makes you feel better, he’s totally into you,” Lizzy tells you.

“He is?”

“Hell yeah. Guy practically ogles you across the room,” she says.

You glance over to Tom. He’s stood before a table, talking away, scribbling down their order on a notepad. At the feeling of being watched, he looks up and meets your gaze. You flash him a small smile and he mirrors it quickly before returning his focus to the task at hand.

“So, do you?”

“Think there’s such a thing as bad thoughts?” Lizzy checks. You nod. She ponders the question whilst garnishing the cocktail. “No. No, I think only actions talk. I mean, I think bad things all the time about customers who are dicks. I could put glass in their drinks: that’d show them sort of thing. But I don’t actually put glass in their drinks, so I’m off the hook. Nobody’s the wiser.”

It’s a somewhat extreme example but it gets the point across. You take the tray and nod.

“I mean, maybe fantasising about it might be cathartic. Get it out your system, you know?” Her sly wink speaks volumes as to what these ‘fantasies’ are about. You roll your eyes.

“Thank you for your advice, Lizz. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“Anytime sunshine.”

With that, you walk over table 16 and deliver their drinks. The rest of the shift passes by rather quickly. You end up making a bet with Tom that you can sell more pints of larger than him and come up victorious, leaving work with an extra ten dollars in your pockets.

The streets are painted sunset purple, orange and pink. You spot John B’s campervan, known as The Twinkie, in the parking lot; he’d promised to pick you up after work tonight. But as you walk up to the passenger side, you realise it’s JJ behind the wheel. You’re not sure if the feeling of your organs shrinking is a good thing or a bad thing.

“Where’s John B?” you ask, climbing in beside him.

“Nice way to say, ‘hi JJ, it’s so good to see you!’”

“Okay, hi JJ,” you say, rolling your eyes. He starts the engine. “Now, where’s my brother?”

“He had to go do something for Cameron.”

“At ten at night?”

“Dude, I just work here, a’right? I do as he says so he lets me stay on his sofa,” JJ says. You laugh.

The radio kicks on and ‘Downtown Lights’ starts to play. You look out the window as he drives, watching the houses fade into overgrow and trees.

“Hey, you hungry?”

“Starved.”

“We can swing by a Wendy’s on the way home, if you wanna,” JJ says.

You smile as you look over to him, nodding. With that, he takes the next left and the two of you make your way in comfortable silence to the drive through. At the worker’s request, JJ recounts his order: two hamburgers, both with cheese, one without pickles. Oh and a large Pepsi.

As he pulls forward to pay, you say, “you remembered I don’t like pickles?”

He glances over to you like you’re stupid for even asking. “Course.”

Food secured, Pepsi in the cupholder for you both to share, you start the journey to the Chateau.

“Feed me a fry?”

You laugh and oblige. It’s the least you can do, considering he bought you takeout, after all. You turf one out the brown paper bag and hold up to his lips. His breath fans against your fingers as he takes it. Chews and swallows. You managed to tear your eyes away. That man could yawn and you’d be mesmerised, you swear. It’s pathetic.

“Thanks.”

“Course.”

The ride back is over way too soon. You take what’s left of your food and your bag, opening the door. “You staying over tonight?”

JJ contemplates a moment before shaking his head. He studies his hands as they run up and over the steering wheel when he says, “no. No, I gotta go home sometime.”

“Right,” you quietly say. The last fight him and his dad got in was ugly. He came over, shaking with anger, a purple bruise forming under his eye. It scared the shit out of you to let him go back there alone. “Well, thanks for the food.”

JJ looks up from the steering wheel and takes you in. His lips move, like he wants to say something, but he seems to abandon the thought. You take it as your cue to leave.

“See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you soon, Little Routledge.”

You hate that nickname. The resentment is thick to swallow as you say goodnight, stepping out the van.

John B isn’t home when you walk into the Chateau. The lights are off, dirty dishes piled up in the sink. The sofa bed is unmade from the last time JJ slept on it. You contemplate crashing on it for the night, just so you can feel as if you’re near to him, but you know that’s insane. If John B were to find you there, he’d only be concerned that something was wrong with your own room, either way. So you trundle back to your bedroom and strip out of your uniform. Makeup rinsed off and teeth brushed, you crawl into bed and drift off easily.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

His lips are hot and wet on your skin, kissing down your stomach. Your breathing’s laboured like you’re fighting an adrenaline rush. He seems to notice, laughing darkly against your tummy.

“So wound up already and I’ve barely touched you,” JJ croons in his southern drawl.

Your eyes slip shut, fighting back a whimper as his fingers dip teasingly into the waistband of your panties. A moan finally lets slip at the sensation of his lips pressing against your crotch, over the cotton.

“You want it?”

“Please,” you whisper.

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

“Yes, JJ, please.”

It’s embarrassing to beg but you don’t have much left in your mind other than thoughts of him to even care.

Fingers knotting into his hair, you try and coax him lower still. And he obliges. Drags your panties down your legs like time is a luxury. You wonder if he likes teasing you; if it brings him pleasure like the feeling of his hands on your body does for you. He leans back on his haunches and runs his palms up and down your thighs, staring at you exposed pussy. His shark tooth necklace sits against his toned chest and you’re jealous of how close it gets to be to him.

“Fuck,” JJ groans as you open your legs.

He leans back down and nuzzles your inner thigh, pressing a sharp kiss with his teeth, sucking in the skin and relishing your pleasured yelp. It feels as if he’s marking you as he leaves the hickey: mine.

“Been dreaming ‘bout this.”

Before you can let out another pathetic plea, JJ situates himself between your legs and goes down on you. Eats you out like a man who’s been lost at sea, like a man starved. Sighs at the taste of you on his tongue, kissing at your thighs as if to catch his breath, dragging you closer and closer to the edge. The damp of his tongue laps at your clit and your legs lock around him in a vice. He’s indefatigable, insatiable and…it’s too much.

“I can’t,” you whine hopelessly. Your fingers grasp at the sheets, eyes clenched shut.

“Come on,” JJ preens. “Wanna see you come.”

He leans close to your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth, and slips a finger into your seeping hole. Your orgasm comes like waves crashing over splintered rocks; breathing jagged and vision blurring behind eyelids. Somewhere in the euphoric haze you cry out his name. Flashes of colour blending into a mercurial high as he works you through your ecstasy, unrelenting.

You gasp awake.

Had you been sleeping?

Your forehead is damp with sweat, throat parched and chest heaving. Anyone would have thought you’d have just sprinted three miles. When you sit up in bed, you register the pulsing between your legs and the telltale stickiness of your thighs.

Shit. Good thing there’s no such thing as bad thoughts.

Wiping at your face, your skin feels red hot. You venture to the bathroom and drink water from the faucet. Making eye contact with yourself is too hard right now, considering you just had the most incredible wet dream about your brother’s best friend. Now that the high is passing, you’re overcome with shame and guilt. You’re delusional. Maybe you should submit yourself to be sectioned. Would be a good way to kill some of these summer weeks…

Heading back to bed feels like returning to the scene of a crime. Instead, you head out onto the porch, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and panties. John B’s a deep sleeper, you’ve come to learn. You’ve never heard him get up in the night, in all your moments of insomnia. There’s no risk of crossing paths with him out here.

Stepping out onto the paint-peeled floorboards, you notice he forgot to turn off the porch light when he came home. Great, I guess I know where my wage is going. But as you head to your favourite red armchair, ready to gaze out at the marsh and watch the waterside plants dance in the breeze, you freeze.

JJ’s on the sofa. And he’s awake. You can tell just from where you’re stood.

Before you can flee back to your room, the floorboard creaks. JJ jolts up and looks around, eyes landing on you. You swallow. The moment you lay eyes on him, part of your dream comes screaming back to you. The way your voice cracked as you cried out his name, tumbling over the edge. You quickly shun away the thoughts, slamming them closed in a box, before your body can lose itself to the fantasy once more. Please God tell me that I didn’t actually scream his name.

“Hi,” you dumbly say.

“Hey.”

“I thought you were staying at your place tonight,” you say.

JJ shrugs. “Change of plans, I guess.”

“Oh.”

He looks back ahead at the armchair, back to you, and you can’t help but pull a face akin to holy shit what the fuck do I do? When he holds up a joint, you decide to stay. Panties are just the same as a bikini anyway, and he’s seen you in those. You make sure to wear your cutest ones when he’s surfing with you. The ones that are tight in all the right places and hug your figure in a way that you wished he would. Oh my God, shut up. You wordlessly take the joint as you quickly step past him, planting yourself in the armchair. You pull your legs up and sit atop of them, taking a long drag to try and calm your racing mind and heart. Inspecting the floor seems a good thing to do, suddenly. The divots in the wood from worms and the strips of paint. Looking up, you find JJ’s eyes trained on your legs. His gaze diverts when you lean forward, offering him the blunt again. As he lifts himself to take it, you see him wince, and now in the light of the porch, fully taking him in you, you can make out the bloody cut beside his eye.

“Jesus Christ, JayJ.”

“It’s fine,” he reflexively says. He takes another hit. “Just need some self-medication.”

“Bullshit. You need to clean that thing ‘fore it gets infected.”

“Be my guest,” JJ scoffs.

With that, you get to your feet and head back into the house. The first aid kit is under the bathroom sink. It’s probably the least dusty thing in the whole room. Returning to him, you forget all about the reason that you got up in the first place and shove it to the back of your mind. This was more important than worrying about some dumb dream. Shoving his legs off the couch, you force him to make space for you. You place the first aid kit on your lap and open it. JJ keeps smoking. The smell of weed clouds your senses. Picking out a disinfectant wipe, you turn to him.

“This’ll sting,” you say, opening the packet.

“That’s what she said.”

You frown. “What kind of kinky ass sex are you having?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” he grins.

For a moment dread drops down your body, chilling your spine. Did he hear you? No, no he couldn’t have. You probably didn’t make a noise. He’s just being his usual, salacious self.

You take his jawline in hold gently between your fingers. The bone is hard beneath the soft of his skin; fine stubble scratches your fingertips. Leaning up, you try not to get distracted in his eyes as you dab at the cut. You apologise as he hisses. It doesn’t look as intimidating when clean of blood, which is more than a relief. You dip back into the first aid kit and offer up two band aids. One is plain nude and the other Hello Kitty.

“Take your pick.”

He rolls his eyes with a small smile and grabs the Hello Kitty one, holding it out to you. You shift onto your knees, bending over him to plant it over his cut. You notice a bruise forming on his cheek bone on the other side, and a cut lip. You should have insisted he stayed over when he dropped you off. He looks up, as if he can hear your thoughts, and meets your gaze. You can’t seem to find it in yourself to move away.

“It’s not your fault,” he quietly says.

You swallow. It’s scary how easy he can read you. Makes you worry what other thoughts he can tell from your face. “Wished you just stayed here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Hate the thought of you going back to that house.”

“That’s sweet,” he smiles. “But if I didn’t go, I wouldn’t have you here taking care of me.”

“Oh, was it all part of your masterplan?” you joke, finding your smile again. His seems to grow at the sight.

“Something like that.”

When his lips press to yours, you’re taken aback. It feels like fire, searing hot, and you flinch like you’ve been burnt. You gape at him, wide eyed, and it seems to register what he’s just done. You both move to put as much space between you as possible, as if trying to keep the blaze from spreading.

“Shit, I—”

“I should go back to bed,” you hurry out.

JJ nods. “Yeah, yeah. Course.”

In your scramble to get back to your feet and back in your room, the first aid kit falls to the floor, the contents spilling out. You cuss and drop to your knees, rushing to retrieve all the clutter. JJ joins you, passing you gloves and bandages. You find some nerve to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he says. The sincerity in his voice…It’s painful.

“It’s okay. I don’t…It isn’t…”

You sigh. Your speech is just as messed as your mind. Closing your eyes, gathering your words, you take a deep breath. Looking back to JJ, you shake your head.

“We can’t.”

“I know,” he replies, almost sadly. Nods once more. “Yeah, I know. I’m just…high. And tired.”

“Right. Course.”

And whilst his excuses should sting, they don’t, because you don’t believe them. JJ smokes enough weed to not be affected all that much by half a joint. But you don’t argue. Instead, you close the box and go to head inside. You stop in the doorway.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say.

You spare him one last glance. He’s on the floor, head hung and back to you, and you consider staying. But you don’t. You go straight to bed, acting as if a fresh start tomorrow will reset the entire thing.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

In the morning, JJ’s gone. John B doesn’t seem to have even realised he’d stayed over. You find your older brother in the kitchen, washing up the dirty dishes. Swiping up a towel, you come to help.

“Hey. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “You?”

“Like a rock,” he grins. “You still up for that keggar tonight, at the boneyard?”

“Oh shit, that’s tonight?”

“Yeah. All the others are going,” John B says.

“Yeah, I’ll go. I think I’m catching a ride with Lizzy from work.”

“Alright. Just stay safe.”

“I will,” you drawl. He smiles at you before turning back to the washing up. “Hey, John B?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. For letting me stay here.”

“Yeah, course,” he says. He pauses his handy work, turning his attention to you. “You’ve always got a bed to crash on here, even if child services are up my ass.”

“I appreciate it. I really needed to get out of Colorado.”

The seven missed calls from your mom slip into your mind. Her texts go unanswered, but she knows you read them. You don’t want her to think you’re in danger. Talking to her is just too much right now.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I needed you back too,” he says. “Things have been kinda messy since my dad…disappeared. I don’t know what I’d do if I was on my own.”

“You’re never gonna be on your own, though,” you smile. “The Pogues would do anything for you. It’s actually kinda scary.”

John B laughs at that. “Yeah, yeah, they’re, uh, not the smartest.”

“Apart from Pope,” you point out. He nods, smiling as he looks back to the soapy water.

“Yeah, apart from Pope.”

“JJ cares about you a lot,” you feel the need to add. His voice last night, apology ready, after your kiss, echoes in your mind.

“I know. I feel like you two are the best things in my life right now,” John B admits. The guilt multiples by tenfold with that. You fix your face when he looks to you. “So, thanks.”

“No worries, big bro,” you reply, nudging his shoulder with yours.

He laughs. “Thanks, little sis.”

With that, you both continue cleaning the pots. The shame from last night gets shoved down into the deepest, darkest pit of your stomach, and you try to go about your day without sparing another thought to JJ.

On the way to the keggar, Lizzy grills you about your ‘crush’ on Tom. “He’s gonna be there tonight, I think.”

“Oh, really?” you say. You know you don’t sound enthused. It’s too much effort to pretend.

“Everything good?” she frowns, glancing away from the road.

You nod and plaster on a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Just tired, I think.”

“Couple drinks in you and you’ll be wide awake, I promise,” she assures.

Nodding, you shift in your seat and look out the window. Your skirt rides up in the processes. It’s a little short but it’s so ridiculously hot tonight, you can’t seem to care. A crotchet style crop-top dresses down the outfit. You don’t want to seem like you’re trying too hard for a beachside keggar. As you pull up closer to the boneyard, cars line the roads. Lizzy finds a spot and parks. You grab the crate of Budlight and her the box of White Claw, and you hop out the car towards the beach. Her stories about work and school have brightened your mood.

She’s tall and remarkably cool in a way that you never will be. She has stick and poke tattoos on her knees and elbows, and nine piercings on one ear. Her nose ring and snake bite piercings are far from intimidating on her cherub like features. The buzzcut has been dyed neon blue, standing bright against her dark skin. As you pass groups of teens, she shouts hello to those she recognises and shares the odd bro-hug.

You add your drinks to the pile of booze before grabbing a can, cracking it open. A quick scan of the scene tells you that the Pogues are still pre-drinking at the Chateau. You’d managed to dodge JJ so far.

“This is a pretty decent turn out,” Lizzy tells you, swigging from her can.

“Know a lot of people here?”

“Sure,” she says. She points to a gaggle of polo-shirt wearing pretty boys who look like they could snap you with one finger. “Those are the gym rat kooks. That tall blonde Topper is with the princess of Figure Eight, Sarah Cameron.”

JJ was right: biceps without a brain. You watch as he shotguns a drink and cracks the can on his forehead. Sarah Cameron, blonde hair straight flowing down her back, does not look impressed.

“And her brother Rafe. That guy’s all kinds of whacked out,” Lizzy mutters. You follow her finger to spot a tall, short haired guy. He looks unapproachable, even from far away.

“Yo Lizzy!”

You both turn to find a crowd of girls and guys. One of them is waving at Lizzy and she waves back.

“Come on, I know these guys. They’re cool,” she tells you, taking your hand and guiding you over.

You’re introduced to everyone and soon enough are roped into beer pong and shots. It’s fun though. Everyone’s having a laugh, cheering each other on. You hear about some good spots to grab food and learn Michael, Lizzy’s closest friend, can drink you under the table. A few hours in and there’s a comfortable buzz to your bones. You haven’t thought about the Pogues, or JJ, or the fleeting kiss all night. As you laugh along to one of Michael’s soccer stories, someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to come face to face with Tom.

“Hey,” you smile, squiffy.

“Hey! I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Yeah, I came with Lizzy.”

“Hey, Tom,” she smiles before sending you a more than suggestive look. Oh, shit. The lie. “Hey, why don’t you go get my girl a top up?”

Before you can contest, she’s taking your half full can out of your hand and coaxing you away with an assuring smile. Tom takes it in stride and walks with you to the coolers. He grabs two cans of beer, passing one to you, and you cheers him.

“How you finding Kildare?”

“Good.”

“Yeah? You been hanging with John B’s crowd, right?”

“Most of the time, yeah,” you smile, nodding. He makes a face before taking a drink. You frown. “What?”

“Nah, nothing. They’re just kinda…well, I mean, some people think they’re bad news.”

“Some people, huh?” you say cautiously.

“Just reputations and all that. Like that JJ guy. He’s got slippery fingers, if you know what I mean,” Tom says, wiggling his own in demonstration.

Suddenly this conversation is very unappealing. You glance off to Lizzy and the others. “I should probably get back to them. Thanks for the drink, though.”

“No, hey, no,” Tom says. He grabs you by the wrist. “Come on, I was being a dick. I’ve had one too many. Let’s just hang, alright? I really wanna get to know you.”

You look between him and Lizzy and sigh. Taking a swig, you shrug. “Alright.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tick you off.”

“I like the Pogues. They’re a good group,” you feel the need to defend.

“No, yeah, they are!” Tom agrees. You can smell the stench of liquor on his breath. “I just don’t want you to get corrupted by them.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just, you’re new here—”

“And so I’m clueless on how to judge people?” you finish sardonically.

Tom rolls his eyes and it makes your anger tick. “Come on, you don’t gotta be a bitch about this.”

“What did you just call me? You know what? Forget it,” you scoff, snatching your arm away from his hold. “Have fun drinking on your own.”

But you don’t get very far before he’s grabbing at you again. “Calm down, would you? Just gimme—”

“Let go!” you demand.

His grip only tightens. The strong front you’re putting on begins to crumble under the panic of this guy is way bigger than me.

“Just quit bitching and we can talk,” he says harshly.

“I don’t want to talk. Now please let go of me,” you firmly return.

He doesn’t let go. Keeps chattering away, insisting that you have to hear him out.

“Let go, Tom!”

“Everything good here?”

Your wide eyes look away from Tom and land on JJ, and your whole body relaxes. He’s looking at you and the panic must read clear on your face because his demeanour changes in a split second. Jaw tight, he turns to Tom.

“I think you should let go, man.”

“You think I’m gonna listen to you?” Tom scoffs.

JJ takes another step towards him. He towers over Tom by enough to be intimidating. “Think you should listen to her.”

“Oh, I get it,” Tom snarls. He lets go of you and you can feel your skin breathing. You rub at the pink marks, easing the sting. Tom gets into JJ’s face, undeterred from a fight. “You wanna keep John B’s sloppy sister for yourself, huh?”

JJ’s fist flies at Tom’s face, making an ugly, visceral sound as it lands on his left cheek. You gasp. Nearly knocked off balance, Tom stumbles on the sand. The commotion has drawn in somewhat of a crowd. Before you can intervene, Tom’s throwing hands. He aims an upper cut to JJ’s jaw but he’s quick to dodge, landing his own punch instead by Tom’s eyebrow. That one seems to deter him. He trips backwards. The chanting of the crowds egging it on makes you feel sick. You’d just finished patching JJ up last night, and you’ve seen his anger before. It takes control quickly and blinds him to reason. The last thing he needs is to wind up in a cell. So, before he can land another hit, you’re stepping forward and grabbing at his arm, stopping him.

“Come on, let’s just go,” you say pleadingly.

His chest is heaving with anger, breathing short and jaw heavy set and tense. He hesitates, looking between yourself and Tom. He’s still cradling his last hit, trying to regain his composure. Sighing, JJ lets you lead him away. Tom’s heckling is laced with slurs directed at you, and you have to keep a steady grip on JJ to keep him from going back.

“He’s not worth it, JayJ,” you mutter.

“You’re so wrong,” JJ darkly returns, but he doesn’t go back.

Away from the beach, back on the road, you let go. He paces for a moment, trying to calm himself. Tugs off his cap and rakes his fingers through his hair, breathing deep and slow. You don’t speak: just let him go through the motions. Babying him through this isn’t going to help anyone.

Whilst violence isn’t the answer to anything, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t grateful for JJ’s help.

Letting him cool off, you take a seat on one of the fallen tree trunks.

“Hey.”

Looking up, JJ walks over. He’s mostly back to himself.

“You okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No. Just freaked me out a bit. He’s not usually like that. He’s just drunk.”

“Like that’s an excuse,” JJ scoffs. He takes the spot next to you, sitting worryingly close.

The culmination of last night and tonight makes your head spin. The effects of the alcohol vanished the moment Tom took a hold of you. Now you just want to forget the whole thing.

“Wanna get out of here?” JJ asks.

You turn your head to face him and smile smally, nodding.

“Come on. I brought my bike.”

His red bike is parked beside the Twinkie. He climbs on first and offers a hand to help you onto the back. Your arms slot around his middle, circling around his taught chest, pressing yourself against him. Face resting on the middle of his back, you try not to inhale the smell of him. It might be too much for tonight. His calloused hands on yours have you shifting your hold, ensuring your tight against him like a backpack.

“Good?”

“Good,” you quietly reply.

He kicks off the stand and starts up the engine. You pull away from the keggar and up the road, zipping down the isolated streets. There’s nobody around at this time. Not a soul in sight. It feels so right, wrapped up against him like this, safe in his presence. Tom was wrong: JJ wasn’t bad news. Sure, he was a klepto, but he was the same guy who learnt how to sew to fix your favourite pair of shorts when you were little. The same guy who stepped up when some dirtbag was harassing you. The same guy who remembered you don’t like pickles on your burgers. Who looked at your paintings as if they were Picasso.

Somewhere along the ride, one of JJ’s hands comes to rest on your own. You don’t ask why and don’t pull away. Just let the reassuring weight of his hand on yours stay there and ground you to him like an anchor. Here, flying through the night, you can pretend like all the other shit doesn’t matter. It’s just you and him.

He starts onto a dirt track, slowing down, and a house emerges. Pastel yellow painted exterior hidden behind porch netting. There’s clutter of engines and fishing gear amongst surfing supplies. He pulls to a stop and kicks on the stand, turning off the engine. It’s quiet now, without its rumble. “Your dad home?” you can’t help but ask, staring at the front door.

JJ shakes his head. “No. He’s out on Friday nights. Kinda the only routine he has.”

You don’t ask where and he doesn’t expand. You step off the bike and watch as he clambers off too. Fixing your skirt, you wait for him to talk. He doesn’t. “I should probably head back,” you say. You’re not entirely sure why you came to his place instead. You’d assumed when you got on the bike that he’d take you back the Chateau.

“I mean, we can share a joint first if you want. Help you calm down and stuff, after that shitshow,” JJ half-chuckles.

There’s something heavy in the humid air. It’s hard to describe, hard to place, but you can feel it like static electricity. You find yourself nodding. He nods too and starts up to the house, hands in his black short pockets. You watch his feet sink into the grass and guide your eyes up his figure. His shoulders are tense, dressed under a thin t-shirt. He ditches his cap on the kitchen counter when you walk through the door. Through the house, past the neglection, and to his bedroom. He flicks on the light and clears his throat as he goes to his desk drawer.

You stand, leaning against his door until it clicks closed, and look around his room. There’s a world map pinned to the wall but no markings on it asides from one: Kildare, North Carolina. Print outs of palm trees and pressed, framed butterflies and leaves seem less innocent when placed between posters of models on the beach. The floor is a mess of dirty clothes and empty beer cans. Several dead vapes litter near the overflowing bin, and cigarette and joint buds scatter the windowsill and beside table. But the smell of JJ hangs strong in the air; it makes you smile to yourself.

“Alright,” JJ sighs. The desk drawer slams closed and he turns around, holding up a fresh joint and lighter. His initials are scratched into the metal: JJ. He sits on the bed and places the blunt between his lips, flicking at his lighter. You watch him take a drag and take it off him when he offers it over.

No words are shared as you pass the bud for several minutes. You both glance around the room, at the floor, at the ceiling, anywhere but each other.

“How’s your face?”

“Huh?” he asks, finally meeting your eyes.

You nod to his cheek. “Your cut from the other night?”

“Oh, right,” he mumbles. He lifts a finger and strokes it absentmindedly. “It’s alright.”

“Good.”

JJ hands you the joint again, you take a drag, you pass it back to him. That same feeling from earlier, when you first climbed off the bike, has only amplified.

“So…”

You brave clearing the distance between you. You take the spot next to him on the bed.

“We gonna talk about it.”

“What’s there to talk about?” JJ deflects, studying the floor.

“Well, you kissed me,” you eventually reply, taking the joint back. “So, there’s that.”

“I already told you,” he sighs. “I was tired and doped up.”

When you say nothing, he looks up at you. "What? You think I'm lying?"

You take a drag. Shrugging, you honestly reply, “yeah, a little.”

He holds your gaze as if challenging you to back down. You don’t. Beating around the bush won’t help anything here, and its obvious you can’t go back to acting like it didn’t happen. You can’t move past it until you know why he did.

“S’just weird,” JJ mutters, looking away. “What happened last night, with me and you. S’just weird.”

“Yeah, it was weird for me too,” you agree. Swallowing, you take another hit. “But not bad weird, right?”

JJ’s head lifts once more. His eyes flash across your face like he’s searching for some kind of trap. He sucks his teeth in contemplation. “No. Not bad weird.”

Your heart stutters, breathing shaky and unsure. You feel your eyes dart down to his strawberry pink lips, and his to yours. But then he’s shaking his head. “What are we doing?”

“I don’t know…” you breathe. You’re transfixed on his lips. Can’t move away, can’t bring yourself too. The blunt in your fingers is burning away, ash dropping to the floor, but you don’t care. All of it, everything but JJ, is white noise.

The moment you flit your eyes up to his, something shifts in him. His jaw ticks as he clenches it. Your brows pull in thought but there’s no time for you to ask.

“Fuck it.”

His lips are on yours within a breadth. He consumes your senses like a drug, dulling down anything else until all your thoughts are on him. He grabs for the blunt in your fingers, haphazardly putting it on the bedside table, and then his hands are sliding up along your sides, up your back, into your hair. One finds purchase on your cheek, and you rest your jaw in his hold like a bird settled in its favourite branch. The way he holds you like you’re something holy is different to how sinful his kiss is. It’s pure passion: raw, animalistic heat from weeks of build-up. And, God, it feels so right. The way his tongue brushes against yours, warm in your mouth, heavy in your head. The nip of his teeth on your lips and the fanning of his breath when he has to break for air. You’ve never been kissed like this before, not by anyone. It’s dizzying.

Until it isn’t, and he’s pulling away. His forehead rests against your own. You’re both panting. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he says.

You slide a hand up his neck, tracing his jawline with your fingers. He practically melts under your touch, eyes slipping shut. “I know,” you whisper distractedly. Your thumb traces his lower lip. It’s swollen from your kisses.

He blinks his eyes open. “I’m serious. He can’t know.”

“He won’t,” you say, going to reconnect your lips.

But JJ stops you. “No, he can’t. He’d…God, he just can’t.”

You want to cry, seeing the moral dilemma weigh on JJ, feeling you share the burden. But the thought of walking away from this, of not feeling every inch of him, of never hearing him fall apart, makes you want to sob.

“Maybe just one time,” you murmur. Your finger traces down his chin, along the centre of his neck. “And we can just get it out of our system.”

“Yeah,” JJ mumbles. “Yeah, one time.”

“Yeah?”

You meet his gaze. His pupils are dilated, heavy with lust, and you feel your body ignite. “Touch me, please.”

With that simple mark of consent, JJ’s unchained. He doesn’t hold back when your lips reconnect. Somehow it becomes deeper, rougher, better. It’s such a strange oxymoron, the way he touches you and kisses you. You pull away to remove your crop top, and he takes the moment to strip off his shirt. The two of you are shameless as you take in the other. Reaching out a hand, you run your fingers up his chest in the way that you’ve imagined so many times before. It’s funny how in your head, you’ve already done it. His eyes dip down, watching your hands explore. You lean forward, pressing a kiss to his left pectoral, then his right. Sighing, his chest drops up and down with uneven breathes.

“So pretty,” you say through your kisses.

His fingers tether into your hair. There’s a slight tug that sends ripples of pleasure through your body in ways that it shouldn’t as he pulls you away, guiding your lips back to him. As he crawls atop of you, you inch up the bed, skirt riding up. You settle on our back. JJ’s greedy in his touch. Strokes your skin, explores your body, like it’s his own. And in a way it is because you’d give him anything if he asked. When his fingers slip behind your back, searching for the clasp of your bra, you lift yourself onto your elbows. He holds your gaze as he unfastens it, guiding it off your shoulders, helping it off your arms.

“Fuck,” he sighs.

A smile teases at your lips. It takes a certain type of guy to make you blush at the sound of his curses. Your head rocks back, eyes sinking closed, as his lips latch around your nipple. A hand palms at the skin, teasing your breast, exploring your reactions. You sigh out your pleasure, bringing a hand up to mess with his hair. It’s better than you imagined. Tops every fantasy, every wet dream, every sinful thought. And it’s only just begun.

“So fucking sexy,” JJ groans, kissing up your body until he finds your lips.

You don’t want him away from you. He looms over you, encasing you in the safe, consuming feeling of his presence, trapping you in the smell of his cologne and soap that you’ve tried so desperately to avoid. Through the kisses and love bites marked into necks and collarbones, you feel one of his hands ghost the outline of your figure. Traces down so slowly like you might not even notice. Down, down, to your panties. It’s there that he sweeps over your cotton covered mound. You sigh against his lips in anticipation.

“I know you’ve been thinking ‘bout this,” JJ says.

His voice is just as you pictured it: deep and crooning, his Southern accent at forefront. You want to bottle it like brandy and drink it until you black out. His lips work down your neck as he lightly circles your clit over your panties and you can’t stop your moan.

“I heard you, the other night.” Your eyes shoot open. JJ meets your gaze. He’s dying, the desperation clear as day on his face. His eyes themselves could send him straight to hell. There’s the shadow of a smirk.

“Were you thinking of me, whilst you were getting off?”

You go to push him away. The last thing you need is for him to tease you about it and make fun. But he doesn’t let you. Instead, he kisses just below your ear.

“Cause I think about you. Every night since you’ve been back. Can’t jack off to anything else,” he confesses into the crux of your ear. Your only reply is a small, surprised gasp. Your body’s ablaze with his words.

His fingers finally dip below your panties, sliding between your soaking folds. He groans at the sensation and you feel your legs give way. He works at you for a while, toying with you like it’s a side hobby. You’re only half aware of the sounds you make. One of your hands has situated itself on his upper back, nails scratching at the skin. JJ can’t seem to keep his mouth shut. It’s one blasphemy after another, and it drives you deeper and deeper into the abyss. He seems to become impatient. He removes fingers to push your underwear down. You kick them off at the ankles with a small giggle.

The moment his finger sinks into you, you swear you’ve seen heaven. JJ worships you, taking his time to inch you closer and closer to the edge. Another finger, then another. The stretch is heaven. Your back arches off the bed, mouth agape, brain dumb with pleasure. He won’t be quiet. He whispers praises into your ear. Narrates his own fantasies he’s harboured about you. Know you’ve been teasing me with those tiny bikinis. I wish I fucked you on the porch the other night. The moment his thumb swipes over your clit, you know you’re close. And then he’s bending his fingers just slightly, hitting that spot. You abandon all religion: this is the only type of prayer you need.

JJ has the audacity to laugh as you climax. You grasp uselessly at his body, the bedsheets, anything. You use a shaky hand to push his fingers away, overstimulated, and he finally relents. Starts kissing at your neck like a Goddamn vampire.

“That good, huh?”

You can’t really formulate words. You just drag his face to yours, kissing him senseless. When you inevitably part for breath, JJ leans back. He pinches your chin between two fingers, gnawing at his lower lip, and parts your lips for him. Your body pulses at the submissiveness he’s placed you under. Then his used fingers are slipped into your mouth. You close your lips around them, holding his gaze as you suck them clean. The salty distinct taste is unfamiliar but not necessarily unpleasant. He gives a small laugh, like he’s in disbelief.

“Fuck. Why did we wait so long to do this?”

You pull his hand free, taking grip on his shoulders. Pushing him against his bedroom wall, you move to straddle him. His hands fall onto your hips. Somewhere in your heady make-out, you rock yourself back on him. JJ groans; his head knocks back against the wall. He’s rock hard. It must be torture. You shuffle off him to make room to pull his shorts off. They join the mess of clothes on the floor. The tip leaks precum, straining painfully. You go to jack him off but JJ stops you.

“I won’t last,” he admits, half-embarrassed.

You nod, biting back your smile. “You got protection?”

“Top drawer,” he says, nodding to the bedside table.

You lean over and dig about before finding a condom. You come back, tear it open, and gently slide it over him. He lets out a shuddering breath at your touch, eyes clenched shut in concentration. It makes you feel slightly guilty for letting him indulge you for so long, but this will pay it back.

Straddling him once more, you steady yourself with one hand on either shoulder. His find home on your hips once more, and he helps you line up. Then you slowly sink down onto him. The stretch stings despite the earlier efforts. Head hanging forward, mouth falling open in silent moans, eyes clenching shut, you take him in. JJ’s mumbling praises, eyes transfixed on where you connect, spurring you on. Taking me so good. Jus’little more. You rock against him, using whatever energy you have to ride him. He helps guide you, head resting against the wall. You love that he isn’t quiet. Love that you’re on top and can see every ripple of pleasure course through him, reflect on his face. But when his eyes slip shut, you take a hand and guide his face to yours. Pressing your forehead against him, you lean forward and steady yourself with a hand on his chest. The new angle is euphoric. You moan and whine against his lips, eyes staring into his own. It’s the most hideously lewd symphony as the two of you chase your highs. There’s only one thought in your mind. And when JJ comes unannounced, shuddering as he finishes, never looking away from your eyes, only one thought is in your mind.

If it can only happen this once, it has to be perfect...

to be continued (part 2 will be released later this week)

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Man 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Lloyd Hansen

Summary: a demanding customer complicates more than your work life.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

A few days pass as the humiliation of your big lesson clings in the air. You think about it too much. Enough that you find yourself cringing to yourself on your bike ride home or even when lying in bed. You’ve never been the most socially adept so the encounter leaves you reeling.

As you help Bre with opening, you feel your heartbeat pick up once more. You need to chase the elephant from the room. You puff out and wet your lips as you glance over at her. She measures out grinds into the silver machine as her eyes pinpoint on the task.

“Um, so, Bre,” you approach her warily with a fresh sleeve of cups, “I wanted to ask you something.”

“Mm,” she grumbles groggily. She’s on her second coffee already and she only just got there twenty minutes ago.

“So, um, that guy, from the other day,” you rub your boiling neck, “with the mustache. You said he’s the boss. So he owns this place?”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes as she shuts the lid of the machine and turns the silver dial on the front. She shakes her head as the machine starts to brew and she plants her hand on the counter in front of it. She faces you, her other hand going to her hip.

“Mr. Hansen? Lloyd. Hansen.” She enunciates as if you should know the name.

Your lips downturn and you shrug, “is that his name?”

“Are you new in town?” She asks hotly.

You nod, “yeah, actually. I used to live about forty minutes out of town but there was nothing there--”

“It shows,” she retorts, “he owns this shop, he owns the street outside, he owns me, he owns you. He owns this city. Got it?”

You hum and nod as you look thoughtfully to the ceiling, “not really. But he’s important, got it.”

“Just if he comes back in, come get me and say as little as you can. And please, for the love of god, do not ask him for money,” she snips.

“Oh, alright,” you deflate, “I didn’t know--”

“Now you do. Just trust me when I tell you, you don’t want to fuck around with him. If he tells you to pour boiling water on yourself, you’re better off just doing it,” she sneers.

You wince, “okay, sorry, Bre, I was just asking.”

“You ask too many questions,” she turns and goes into the backroom. She returns, dangling a keyring from her finger, “open up. It’s time.”

You take the key and go to unlock the door and flip on the sign. You retreat back behind the counter, swallowed up by the tension between you. You regret asking. You thought it might help clear the air but now you can barely breathe.

When the first customer enters, you volunteer to help them. Bre just mutters and slurps from her coffee. She might have less of a headache if she takes it easy on the caffeine. You don’t say as much to her, nothing really at all as you work through order after order.

She hops onto prep as you man the till while the queue grows. The morning rush is in full effect as you slide baked goods into little paper sleeves and hand them over before sending customers down to the window to wait for their drinks. The hectic flow helps you forget about the awkward start.

When at last the crowd trickles down and the cafe hums with voices sitting at the tables, you have a moment to catch your breath and center yourself. You like this job, it’s just like your last one, but the company isn’t as pleasant. Bre taps her thumb on her phone screen and ignores you.

The ebbs come with hide tides and soon lunch has you scrambling once more. The smell of toasted bread and cinnamon has your stomach grumbling. You’re too busy to let the emptiness bother you for long. When high noon influx subsides, Bre yawns.

“Lunch,” she announces, “I’m going to head down to Tabitha’s. They’re having a clearance sale.”

“Oh, alright,” you agree, not mentioning that she said earlier you could go first, “I’ll be here.”

She doesn’t respond as she disappears into the back to get her things. You hear her leave through the side door that leads through to the alley. You sigh out and watch the sit-in customers on their laptops or chatting with friends.

You resist the temptation of the tarts staring at you from the display. You can hold out until it’s your turn. The door jingles and a new customer enters. You’re too fixated on the painting of a latte to glance over. Not until you sense the sudden shift in the air. Several people quiet and pack up to go.

Footfalls scuff across the floor and customers leave their unfinished drinks on the table as they hurry for the door. You peer around then at the approaching shadow. It’s him. Oh no. Bre isn’t here.

“Um, hello, Mr. Hensen,” you smile shakily, “how are you?”

He stares at you as he comes to stand across the till from you. His blue eyes darken as he lets a long exhale out through his nose. You gulp and your cheeks tremble. He tilts his head and arches a brow.

“Hansen,” he corrects.

“Right, Floyd Hansen, I remember--”

“Lloyd,” he hits his fist on the counter and you gasp. “Lloyd fucking Hansen.” He leans forward and bares his teeth, “get that through that thick fucking skull.” He reaches for you, grabbing the front of your shirt, “you won’t forget who I am.”

“I’m s-sorry, I’m bad with names--”

“Shut up,” he twists the fabric until it strains against the back of your neck, “if you weren’t so goddamn pathetic, I’d drag you across this counter.”

Your eyes round and you bat your lashes. He’s only an inch away from you. You shiver as he opens his hand and presses the vee of his index and thumb to your throat. You’re frozen, terrified. Who is this man?

“Get me my fucking coffee,” he squeezes then shoves you so you choke.

You stumble back and bring your hand to your neck. You nod, eyes glittering with unspent tears, and look around. You can’t remember what he ordered. You’ll just have to make something up. Or maybe you could just sneak out like Bre...

#the man #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #drabble #series #au #mob au

[nicksbestie]

i know it won't work - C. Sturniolo

Summary : "part of me wants you back, but i know it won't work like that"

Warnings : very angsty. crying, heartbreak, yk the drill. nothing triggering though!

Word Count : 1000

Pairing : Chris Sturniolo/Reader (past romantic)

A/N : i was listening to this song in the car this morning, and boom here comes this fic idea!

You regretted ever moving to Boston.

You hated the city, hated who it reminded you of. You couldn’t leave your house without feeling trapped in the space that you had once adored to travel with the person you had loved with your entire heart. If you had the money, you would have moved far away by now. All you could do was be so grateful that the two of you hadn’t moved in together, because you would have actually had to leave. As much as you hated that you were still here, leaving would have torn the pieces you were already in right into shreds. 

You sat in front of the empty closet in your guest room, tears rolling down your face as you processed that it would stay empty for a long time. You couldn’t bring yourself to fill it, wanting it to stay empty just on the off chance that he came back, that he needed someone, somewhere to stay, somewhere to put his things. If he needed space that he could only find in your home, you would have space for him. He could inhabit that space for as long as he wanted, as he inhabited your heart still, living in it despite how tightly it was clenching in pain, as if to squeeze him out.

You couldn’t bear the thought that he might never come back, that you really may never see him again, that you might not get to love him again like you used to. How could you bring yourself to deal with the idea that this might be it? Your number wasn’t blocked, but it seemed like he couldn’t find a way to softly tell you that there was no chance he was coming back, so he simply left all of your texts on delivered. Despite how heartbroken you were, you knew there was no way that you could go back to loving him in a non romantic way. There were two ends of the spectrum, and you knew that you would either love him endlessly, or hate him relentlessly. You hoped it never came to be the latter.

Chris knew you were still waiting on him. He knew you were hoping he would change his mind, that he would turn around and run back to him, and the breakup was killing him as well. He couldn’t lie to himself like he could to you, he had thought about going back. He had thought about claiming it was all a lapse in judgment, that he still loved you with everything in him, but he worried that he wasn’t worth all of the hope you were saving for him. He’d paced around his room so much that he had nearly worn holes in the floor, and even his brothers had begged him to fix things, but he just couldn’t do it. He really did believe that this was the best move for the both of you, but he couldn’t deny the doubt creeping into the back of his mind. After all, it had been a long relationship, one spanning just over five years. How could he just let that go?

You’d run into each other in a store, and you’d both seen your face on the other person’s. The dark under eye circles, the bloodshot eyes, the signs of sadness sinking into your bones. Neither of you could speak to the other one, simply staring before Chris broke the eye contact, walking away. It killed you to look into his eyes knowing that he clearly didn’t want you back, an opinion so different from how you felt. You didn’t know that he did want you back, desperately, but was trying to make it easier for you by cutting things off. He wished that you would find someone else, that you’d put yourself out there, because seeing you with someone else might help him snap back into reality, help him get over it as well. 

He was torn. He knew you were still holding on to him, and part of him wanted you to let go, wanted you to move on, to love someone who wasn’t him, but the other part of him wanted to shrivel up and die at just the thought of your arms around anyone who wasn’t him, your lips on anyone else’s skin. But it would make it easier for him to realize that you really weren’t his anymore, and maybe that was just what he needed. Maybe. He had broken up with you in person, knowing that he owed you at least that, but the call to you to ask when he could come pick up his things from your place had been one of the hardest calls you’d ever received. The ghost of your relationship being inside your apartment had made the entire building feel haunted.

He knew he was being an idiot, but he wanted to think that his heart was in the right place. Both of his brothers knew he was being an idiot, to the point that Nick showed up to talk to you, and Matt was talking to Chris, desperately trying to fix things between the two of you. The conversation between you and Nick just ended up with you sobbing in his arms, him trying to convince you that it would be okay, that Chris loved you, that he would realize and he would come back. The one between Matt and Chris wasn’t going much better, Chris having angry tears streaming down his face, trying to convince Matt and himself that it was for the best.

“It isn’t going to work.” 

“Make it work.” 

You were in Nick’s arms, silent, enjoying the comfort but hating why you needed it, when your phone dinged from behind you. Nick picked it up, checking who it was before nudging you.

“Here. You want to read this.” 

Chris <3 : I know I tried to cut all ties but you’ve never left my mind. Can we make this work?

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#chris x y/n #chris sturniolo headcanon #christopher sturniolo x y/n #christopher owen sturniolo #christopher sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo imagine #chris #fanfic #boyfriend chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x you #sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo age regression

[fadingdaggerr]

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lesbian #lgbtq

[leasstories]

Dream girl

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

No trigger warning, reader is smaller than Eddie but no physical descrpition

WC: 1.1K

02.17.1988, Square Arena, Indianapolis

Today is the highlight of your month, your year even. This is finally the day of Dio, your favorite band ever, and Megadeth’s concert. You arrived early to check the merch stand. You found a beautiful Dio shirt, a Holy Diver one. Exactly the same design as the cover of the album. You are super hyped up and excited by this concert. You are also super grateful Duo had a show so close to your hometown.

Your tour of the merch stands over, you go into the venue. You stand right behind a guy with a mop of curly hair. He is wearing a jean vest with a beautiful Dio’s Last in Line patch on the back. You are a bit jealous of his jacket to be honest. You can see that the patch was homemade from a tee-shirt, and you are jealous not to be a hand-craft person. The light turns off and the concert starts. The guy with the Dio vest is a little taller than you, meaning you don’t really see the stage.

You ponder on what to do for a few minutes when you come up with the idea of asking him if ypi could pretend to know each other so you can be closer to the stage, and maybe see more of the show. It is currently Megadeth playing so you don’t mind not seeing and just listening but when it will be Dio’s turn, you want to be able to listen and see. That’s how, from its own accord your body starts moving towards the mop of curls. You tap on his shoulder.  The guy turns around and he looks breath taking. The first thing you notice about him are his big brown eyes. The guy is a perfect mix between Eddie Van Halen and Kirk Hammet. Translation? He is totally your type. You notice several pin’s from metal bands and he is wearing a Megadeth tee.

“Yeah?” he asks curious as to why you tapped on his shoulder.

“C-” you clear your throat. “Can I… um… can we pretend we are together? So I can have a better views of the stage?” you ask, unusually shy.

“Of course,” the man answers, taking your hand and pulling you right next to him.

“I’m Eddie.” He says, handing out his hand for you to shake. You shake his hand, giving him your own name in return. You have been a bit taken aback by his name as you just compared him to Eddie Van Halen in your mind, but you keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Metal fan?” you ask, wincing at your stupid question. Of course he is, you are at a metal concert and the guy wears his music taste on him.

“Yeah, you?” he asks kindly but a bit amused by the question.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, none of you is paying attention to Megadeth playing, too entranced in your new found companionship.

“It’s my first metal concert.” You confess to him.

“Then, I’ll be your guide in the metal concert world.” Eddie says in his Dungeon Master’s voice.

“You are quite the storyteller, I see.” You say flirtatiously.

“Eddie Munson, humble Dungeon Master of the Hellfire Club in Hawkins.” Eddie says, slightly bowing.

“A D&D club I presume?” you ask.

“You know D&D?” Eddie asks, baffled.

“I know it’s uncommon for girls, but I used to play before my party moved out for college.” You answer truthfully.

“You should come for one of my holiday one shot.” Eddie says excitedly.

“With pleasure.” You say, matching Eddie’s excitement.

Eddie and you both turn back to the stage, to watch the concert. Eddie admire your body swaying to the music. He can’t stop thinking about how you are his dream girl. He doesn’t believe one second that he will see you after tonight, so he is planning to enjoy your company tonight.

Then, when Dio comes to the stage, Eddie can see your face light up and finds it adorable. During the entirety of the concert, his eyes are fixated on you, screaming the words for each song.

At the end, Dio starts throwing their guitar picks at the crowd and Eddie instinctually picks you up to help you get one, which you do.

You are super excited about it and when Eddie puts you down, you turn to him and hand him the guitar pick.

“Keep it.” Eddie says, shaking his head.

“But you did all the work!” you say.

“I want you to keep it,” Eddie says with a smile. “So you’ll remember me.”

“How could I forget you.” You say sincerely.

While Eddie and you keep talking, the band leaves the stage and the crowd starts leaving. Everyone, except you and Eddie goes towards the exit. None of you want this night to be over. You want time to stop and you want to stay together for a little longer.

“Wanna go grab some food?” Eddie asks. “I saw a McDonald right next to the venue.”

“With pleasure. I’m starving.” You say, smiling.

Eddie and you leave the venue, the McDonald is full so Eddie suggest to take away and eat in the back of his van which you gladly accept. While you wait for your order, Eddie learns more about you and you learn that he is the lead guitarist and singer in a band. He tells you he plays in a dive bar in his town every Tuesday and you suggest that you should watch him play once.

“What?” Eddie asks. “You would drive all the way to Hawkins to watch little ol’ me play?” he asks, surprised.

“Of course Eddie. In case you haven’t noticed I really like you.” You say while taking the bags of food and walking towards Eddie’s van.

“I really like you too.” Eddie says while opening the back doors of his van. “Here give me the bags.” He says which you do.

You both sit in the back of the van and eat your food in comfortable silence. Once you’ve finished eating, you take a napkin and write your phone number on it.

“Call me.” You tell him with a smile.

“I will.” Eddie says nodding. “I really enjoyed spending time with you, and I want to do it again.”

“Me too.” You say smiling.

Here’s how Eddie and you met, two nerdy metalheads meeting at a Dio concert. Your dream is to meet Dio in order to thank them for giving you the opportunity to meet the love of your life. Here’s the story you will tell your children when they ask how mommy met daddy.

Taglist: @abellmunsonmovie

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x yn #eddie munson lives #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x metalhead reader

[justmeinadaze]

Children of the Night Part 9 (Steddie X You)

Warnings: Daddy Vampire Eddie/Switch Vampire Stevie and Sub Human/Vamp Fem Reader, SMUT, dp, dirty talk, light spanking, light choking, blood drinking (obviously), slight roughness but more passionate, FLUFF, these three weirdos love each other so much <3.

ANGST, ANGST, ANGST!!

Domestic abuse and Child abuse triggers (we learn everything about the reader here including the abuse she's gone through including gaslighting and physical abuse) It's briefly touched on how the police didn't help her. Personally I felt like this added to her mistrust of authority like that mixed in with how law enforcement handled everything that happened with Eddie in Hawkins.

S4 things are touched on including Chrissy and what happened with Lucas, Erica, and Gareth. Brief conversations with readers mom, Wayne, and Mr. Harrington (the latter being an asshole of course). I think that's everything. The main thing I wanted to focus on was the abuse triggers. I know that can be triggering especially since some of the dialogue with the mother is lifted from things my own abusive parent said to me.

Love you guys! Enjoy this final piece.

Series here/ Buy Me a Coffee :)

Word Count: 7400

StokersGirl86: “Oh my god. I’m so excited. What do you think they are going to do?!”

Dannyalwayshere1: “I imagine it’s going to big after everything going on in the news right now.”

Minaismygirl: “Eddie better release Y/N so she can come find me. I can take care of her!”

StokersGirl86: “Oh please. You really think she’s innocent in all this?!”

StokersGirl86: “She was a fan just like us. No matter what her criminal mom preaches on tv.”

LivingDeadBoy24: “Like mother like daughter :P.”

Living DeadBoy24: “Maybe Eddie will sacrifice her the same way he did Chrissy Cunningham. I’ve been reading about what happened. It’s amazing.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: “You all should be ashamed of yourselves! An innocent girl was murdered and another may be kidnapped! They don’t need to be put up on a pedestal. They need to be behind bars!”

Dannyalwayshere1: “I see you think Steve Harrington is guilty to?”

CaliforniaPD: “This is the California police department and currently we seem to be having trouble disconnecting this stream. That being the case, we do highly recommend that everyone log off this site and do not engage.”

VampQueen91: “Yeah sure. Nice try whoever you are. I thought the police already had their location. Yet they can stream??”

Minaismygirl: “Because California PD sucks lol But who knows, maybe they just need them to stream to catch them…”

The video feed begins counting down and as soon as it ends three faces illuminate everyone’s screens. Both men were shirtless with hair frayed every which way as their black eyes starred into the camera with a small smirk painted on both their lips. 

“Hm. I see everyone’s here and already has opinions.”, you growl as you quickly take in everyone’s words that flew across the screen. “We wanted to come on today to set the record straight about a few things. First and foremost, Edward Munson and Steven Harrington are dead. YOU killed them when you placed blame for something they didn’t do.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: Edward Munson murdered Chrissy in his trailer in cold blood. 

“Oh, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how much you must be hurting, Andrew. You lost three friends in the span of a week to such odd circumstances. Of course, it would just be easier to blame Eddie. It’s the only thing that would make since right? Not that some other man come in and hurt her.”

Justice4ChrissyCunningham: I don’t know who you think I am but—

His picture suddenly flew up onto the screen for everyone to see. 

“Normally I’m not one to display people’s personal business this way but after everything I’ve read and the things they told me, you can go fuck yourself. I see here while Eddie was missing you and Jason Carver assaulted a young man named Gareth in his garage. Police report says you and your friends jumped them while playing hero; broke the young man’s nose.”

The long-haired vampire growled deep from his chest at the accusation. 

“It also looks like in March of 03, you tackled a middle schooler and threatened to break her arm if she didn’t tell you guys where Eddie was. That seems to be the same night Mr. Carver also beat up a young man while he was trying to protect his girlfriend. Hm. How odd that you were there for the last few deaths.”, you muse as you glance towards Steve who continues to glare forward.

“The night Steve went missing his blood was found mixed with two other jocks about your age. Friends, Andy? He tells me they were there to hurt him because he missed the man he loved. Kind of seems like violence is normal for athletes in Hawkins. Maybe that’s why Chrissy felt more comfortable with Eddie. I can’t imagine how angry that made Jason feel. Maybe angry enough…to kill?”

The count of people in the stream both drastically dropped including Andy and then suddenly increased with a new flux of people. 

California PD: “Miss Y/L/N if you are in danger we can help you. 

“I don’t need your help. I’m not a hostage with these men. If anything, I was a hostage growing up with the mother that you all so quickly rallied behind including you, Officer Williams. I spent my whole life dealing with people like you. Willing to believe any narrative that fit your agenda. I have been beaten and abused by almost everyone in my life but these men have done nothing but love and protect me! And you want to punish them for that?”

California PD: “Last chance Y/N. Tell us where you are and we can save you.”

“I told you… I’m safe right here…with Renfield and Dracula. My name… is Mina.”

With that both vampires bared their fangs and bit into either side of your neck.

##############

2 Weeks Before

Eddie didn’t say a word as he got up and angrily stomped back towards the bedroom. 

“Baby, please.”, you pleaded as you watched him pull out the suitcases from their closet and throw them on the bed. “We had to have this conversation at some point—”

“No, we don’t. The answer will always be the same. No. Fuck no. Hell no. Take your pick.”

“Why?”

“Because I fucking said so. Now, start packing your shit because we are leaving in 30.”

“No.” The vampire paused as he slowly turned to face you. “No, fuck no, hell no. Take your fucking pick.”

Stalking towards you, he stopped till his nose was hovering just above your own.

“Get you shit and get ready to leave.”, he rumbled.

“You sound like John right now. You don’t command me, Edward.”

“Yes, sweetheart, I do. That’s what you agreed to, remember? You and Steve are mine—”

“In bed.”, Steve interrupted, coming around the corner. “In bed we belong to you. She’s still her own woman and is allowed to make her peace. Let’s hear what she has to say.”

“Steven, you and I didn’t have a choice. She does—”

“So you’re going to make it for her?” The long-haired vampire’s jaw clenches as he places his hands on his hips. “You’re right, I didn’t have a choice which is why we never had to have the conversation she wants to have but I always thought about it. If I was still human, you would have remained the same and I would have grown old. We would have lost each other again…”

Eddie’s glassy eyes glance his way as he sighs and takes a seat on the bed.

“After the last time she left and we didn’t have her…I’d rather not experience that now or even 50 years from now.”

“I guess we know what your vote is.”, he sasses. 

“I think we can do this in a controlled way so what happened to us doesn’t happen to her especially since we would be doing it without her being hurt or wounded.”

“Fuck. O-Ok but I do it and we can change her after we get where we are going—”

“There’s no rush. I genuinely don’t believe they know where you are and are banking on us streaming again but we can find out. I can find out which guys are working the case and go through the digital file. I didn’t do it before because I didn’t want to put us at risk if I didn’t have to.”, you respond as you sit beside him. “I…I also think we should stream you changing me—”

“That’s a fuck no and I’m not budging on that. I don’t care what you both tell me.”

“I actually agree with him on that one, honey.”

“No, no. I mean we should do this together privately but make our fans and police believe you’re changing me. It will keep them invested to keep the revenue coming no matter where we go and show the police that we aren’t afraid of them. We now know that we can suck each other’s blood so…”

As Eddie sighs again, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek. 

“I love you, Eddie. I trust you and I know I’m safe with you; both of you.”

Turning to face you, he kisses your forehead and holds you to him. 

“Do what you have to do, babe, and we’ll start getting things together.”

***

While the guys packed and ran out to grab some extra blood packs, you did some research into the people hunting for you three. You were right that they hadn’t found you yet but they were getting closer. One of the officers grabbed one of Dustin’s pings he created and traced it to the next town over. 

“Hey pretty girl.”, Steve cooed as he slumped down onto his knees beside you. “What did you find out?”

“We’re still ok. They haven’t found us yet and from what I see here they most likely need us to stream again. Now this is a new development.”

Moving the mouse, you click on the news website in the background and play the clip you stumbled on earlier that day. 

“So you say, Mrs. Y/L/N, you saw Y/N with Mr. Harrington and Mr. Munson?”

“Yes! Oh my goodness.”, your mother sobbed. “She came to visit me in the hospital because I was sick. She was always such a sweet girl. They threatened my life and then dragged her away. They are awful people.”

Feeling your anger, Eddie swished into the room as the other vampire petted your head. 

“If you could say anything to your daughter, what would it be?”

“You monsters let my baby go! I love you, Y/N! So…so much…I can’t…”

“That’s not all I found.”, you whisper, clicking another link and pressing play. 

“Mr. Munson! Mr. Munson! How do feel about the content your nephew is posting? Do you think he’ll kill Y/N like he did Chrissy?”

“Get off my property! My nephew…my nephew is dead. Haven’t you and this town sullied his memory enough!”

��Police seem to have strong evidence that this is Edward Munson.”

“Well, if he is alive…I hope he stays away. He can be happier with Steven away from these fuckers!” Eddie’s uncle pauses before entering the house the reporters were following him to. “I also want him to know that I love and miss him. I hope your happy, son.”

Steve grabs his partner’s hand as his stoic features faulter and tears begin to slowly fall that he quickly wipes away. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Harrington! Anything to say about your son?!”

“We’ve made a statement already! Go away!”

The vampire’s eyes narrow at the sound of his dad’s voice. 

“You really don’t think that’s your son in the videos?”

“I know for a fact that’s not my son. No son of mine would engage in that behavior nor be in a relationship with a freak like Edward *beep* Munson. Now leave us be so we can grieve our son in peace!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No reason to be, honey.”, he sighs shaking away the frustration. “We, um, got some more blood and we got you some more clothes. We found a house up north; I just need to—”

Eddie’s lips cut his boyfriend off as he cupped his face in his hands and pulled his body closer to his own. When he finally pulled away both boys were panting heavily. 

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

The pretty vampire smiled softly as his fingers lightly moved some of the other man’s hair out of his face. 

“I love you to, Eddie Munson.” His mouth gently kissed him again as he began to sing making the metalhead breathily chuckle. “I’d give up forever to touch you. Cause I know that you feel me somehow.”

“You’re the closest to heaven that I’ll ever be and I don’t want to go home right now.”, he sings back. “We don’t have a song for Y/N.”

“Oh, I don’t need one. It’s ok.”

“No, no, baby. Let’s see what we got.”, Steve smiles as he pushes the button on the stereo and starts searching through stations. He and Eddie cringe as a few come through that aren’t suitable in anyway making you laugh. 

“Hey, wait. Go back.” After the vampire does what he asks, you three listen as the long-haired boy grins and bobs his head.

“And I wonder When I sing along with you

If everything could ever be this real forever If anything could ever be this good again The only thing I'll ever ask of you You've got to promise not to stop when I say when She sang…”

Taking ahold of your hand, Eddie spins you as you both smile and he sings along.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard this one before.”, Steve muses as he watches you two dance. 

After letting you go, you grab a hold of his waist and he circles his arms around you as you sing.

“Breathe out So I can breathe you in Hold you in And now I know you've always been…”

Smiling, his lips kiss your forehead as you press your head into his chest. 

“I love you both so much.”

“We love you to, sweetheart.”, Eddie replies as he comes behind you and holds you both tightly.

***

“What if I kill you.”

“You won’t, baby. I trust you.”, you try to comfort as you cup his cheek. 

Nodding, he tilted towards you, placing soft tender kisses on your lips and along your cheek to your neck. When you feel him hesitate, you run your fingers through his hair and whisper adoration for him as you wait. 

When his fangs bit into you, you were surprised how fast you blood left your body. Steve’s worried eyes watched as the color left your face and the sight killed him. Your eyes rolled shut and a tear left his eye as the memory of finding Eddie in the upside down flashed through his mind. 

The vampire wanted to calm him but he couldn’t. 

He had to focus on you. 

After releasing his hold on you, he hurriedly wiped your blood from his chin and bit into his wrist offering it to you.

“Come on, baby girl. Come on. We need you to drink.” Just as Steve’s had, your eyes snapped open as the sweet taste hit your lips and you began to drink from him. “Fuck…good girl, princess. Mmph…There you go.”

Abruptly, you detached from his arm and passed out against the pillow as Eddie began to dizzily fall back. 

“Whoa, honey. I got you. Are you ok?”

“B-Blood, Steve. I need… please.”

He didn’t waste any time, running to the kitchen and back as he tore the bag open for his partner to take. 

“What happens now?”

“Now, we wait.”

Neither man left your side as they kept a diligent eye on you. Eddie held your hand while Steve kept his palm on your chest to make sure you were still breathing.

“It’s weird…I can’t feel her anymore.”

“When she wakes up you will and it will be more in tune. When you woke up that feeling was incredibly strong.”

Hearing the sadness in his voice, Steve reaches over runs his fingers along his face. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Everything.” Eddie glances his way and his boyfriend’s loving gaze fills him with warmth. “I never thought about the future. I guess because I was stuck like this…it didn’t even occur to me that you two would age and I wouldn’t. When would you have asked me?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t even know how to bring it up. All I really wanted was for us to have what we always talked about. A happy, simple life away from all the bullshit in Hawkins.” Steve grins when his partner chuckles. “A nice two-bedroom home where we could settle down and have a family. Three boys and three girls you and I would spoil rotten. I would work some office job with so-so benefits and brag about my rockstar husband who was on tour but coming home soon.”

Eddie couldn’t hold it in anymore as the last couple days events hit him and he began to cry. 

“I know, honey. I know”, he cooed as he held his free hand. 

#############

The sound of something crashing to the ground startles both vampires as they sit up and jump out of bed realizing you were no longer between them. They could feel you though; fuck could they feel you.

“Jesus, Eddie…”, Steve groaned as his head lulled to the side.

“I-I know. Stay focused. We need t-to get our girl back first.”

“I don’t know if I can.”, the vampire whined as his palm began absently grazing the bulge in his pants. 

“You will because I told you to, little boy. Do you understand?”, Eddie hissed. 

“Y-Yes, Daddy.”

Slowly moving down the hall, they searched every nook and cranny before something loud in the kitchen caught their attention. They found you on the floor balancing on your heels in your bra and shorts they had laid you down in. The sound of your growling filled the room as you continued to bang on the refrigerator door with your palm. 

“Y/N.”

Jumping at the sound of Eddie’s voice, you fell on to your butt and pressed your back to the cabinets as your black eyes glared his way. 

“Sweetheart, everything’s ok. You’re alright.”

It took you moment but something in your face softened and your crawled towards him, pushing him back slightly before banging your hand on the door again. 

“Daddy. Hungry.”

“You’re hungry, baby?” Reaching in, he takes out a bag and tears it open, handing it to you. Your wide eyes watch him as if he’s figured out a riddle you had spent thousands of years trying to solve and when he offers you what you want, you take it from him without question and chug it back. “Good. Good girl.”

After three blood packs and a peaceful smile on your face, even Eddie could still feel a hunger within you.

“What do you need, pretty girl? Tell me.”

Steve couldn’t control it any longer as his eyes darkened and his own hunger took over. Grabbing his partner’s shirt, he pushed him to the side as he began to crawl towards you. In your state, you perceived the action as hostile and practically roared as you tackled his chest, pinning him to the floor.

“NO! Bad boy…hurt…Daddy!”

His wrists tried to push against your hands but you were much stronger than before. Eddie couldn’t help but be utterly fascinated as he watched you both interact. 

“Say…SORRY!” When he hesitates, your nose presses to his as you growl in a low voice that makes them both hard. “Now.”

“Sorry…Daddy…Sorry, honey.”

At the term, your eyes blink in surprise as you sit up slightly to gaze along his features. Steve’s own black irises search your face for recognition, finding it in your sudden shift of demeanor.

“Steve…”, you coo as lean down and run your nose up his bare, hairy chest to his neck. “Boy…hungry?” He nods emphatically, literally ripping your shorts from your body after pulling down his pants enough to free his cock. “Ask.”

A small whine leaves him as he turns to face Eddie whose eyes were now also black as he stroked his own length while watching you. 

“Daddy…hungry. Please?”

He growled in response, hastily coming up to take his place behind you and runs his tongue up your spine to your shoulder. You mewl as you lower yourself down onto the man beneath you, gripping his neck to pull him up so you could press his head into your chest. Clinging to your hips, the metalhead guided himself into your ass and your head fell back onto his shoulder as they both roughly thrust into you.

When their fangs pierced your skin, you clenched around them causing them both to grunt and hold you tighter. 

“Steve…Eddie…fuck.”

As your fingers tangled into his hair, you bit down on the pretty boy’s shoulder and his moan reverberated through the house as his body shook while releasing his seed inside you. The metalhead circled around to rub fast circles into your clit and you came off Steve with a heavy pant as he fell back onto the floor.

Taking ahold of his arm pressed to your chest, you brought it to your mouth as you bit into the skin. Eddie’s head flew back as your pussy quivered around him and you came hard. Yanking your hair, he shoved your face next to his boyfriend’s as he chased his high and with a few more aggressive thrusts warmed your insides. 

Heavy breathing filled the room as both boys passed out beside you. 

#################

5-year-old you pulls her knees to her chin as you hid under the kitchen table listening to your parents fight. 

“Fuck you! You want to leave me than fucking leave and take that little brat with you.”

“I can’t! Jesus, you never listen! Marnie, doesn’t want kids right now.”

“Oh, oh. The slut doesn’t want kids so I guess whatever she says goes. I didn’t want kids either yet here we are!”, your mother slurs. 

You listen to the sound of his footsteps as he stomps out the door leaving you behind. Glass shatters as the beer bottle she threw hits the wall before she falls to her knees and sobs. 

12-year-old you cries as the police officer lifts you into his arms and tries to carry you out of the foster home you were physically fighting to stay in. 

“Y/N, come on! You need to go be with your mom.”

“NO! I want to stay here! Please don’t make me go back!” You kick the officer, hitting his stomach causing him to drop you to the floor. As fast as you could you get up and run to the woman you had been calling mom for over 6 months. “Please! I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I promise!”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.”, she empathetically murmurs as she sinks to her knees. “It’s time for you to be with your mom. Who knows maybe things will be different this time.”

“It-It won’t. It never is.”

You and your boyfriend panted as you tried to catch your breath hiding under the pier. 

“Woo, that was close!”, he laughs as 15-year-old you grins up at him. “But hey, now we can eat.”

Tossing the wallet to the side, he takes out the money and reaches for your hand as he guides up the bank towards the stores above. After purchasing a burger and some fries, you both share it as he lights a cigarette and stares off into the distance.

“I love you.”

“I love you to, babe.”, you smile as you bite into a fry. 

When his fingers reach out to touch your face, you can’t help but flinch when his thumb grazes the cut on your lip from when he thought you were giving him attitude. 

“I really do. Things are going to get better, Y/N. I promise.”

She couldn’t even make it three months. The police had brought you back home and as soon as they left your mother went off about you running away and how that made her look. By the third month, you tried to leave again and she stopped you. 

“What happened to your arm, Y/N? You said you fell?”, the doctor asked as he began wrapping the cast around the limb. 

You didn’t move or say a word as you stared off into the void. What was the point? The cops knew how she was yet they kept bringing you back. Even if you told this doctor the truth it wouldn’t matter.

“Sweetheart, I can help you. I just need you to tell me what happened.” The man sighs when you remain silent before whispering under his breath. “You don’t have to say anything just nod your head, ok? Did you fall?”

Your eyes meet his for a brief moment before autopilot takes over and you shake your head. 

“Did your mother do this? Did she grab you?”

You nod.

“Ok.”

You stare at the screen in front of you as two men known as Renfield and Dracula make love to each other before biting his neck. A heavy sigh left you at the action and the human boy’s moan hit straight to your heart down to your core. 

You had been watching them for over a month now and you couldn’t explain it but something about them just pulled you in. Hearing their voices and watching how they took care of each other made you feel safe. It’s part of the reason you kept coming back even though you knew if John ever found out you were seeing this he’d probably kill you. 

That following day you were surprised when a message from the site appeared when you signed in from the creators themselves inviting you to a private session. 

When their faces illuminated your screen, a little sigh left your chest. They were both so handsome up close. Because of the technology, you weren’t able to really see their features before but now you could see them in all their glory. Dracula’s eyes fluttered slightly behind his mane of hair. 

“Hey Mina.”

Renfield glances his way in surprise as his partner spoke. Usually, he was the one that did the bulk of the talking so when he initiated, he was taken a back. 

InnocentLittleMina: Hello.

“Hey, honey. We, um, we just wanted to reach out to you because we see you pop up from time to time. You don’t talk or engage very much.”

InnocentLittleMina: Yeah. A lot of the people here are kind of rude.

“Ha. Yeah they are. We were wondering and we understand if you say no but would you want to work for us? Dracula says a moderator could really help us get some control over these people. You don’t have to tell us your name or anything. We can send money straight to your account.”

InnocentLittleMina: You’d pay me?

“Yeah, honey. Of course.”

“However much you want.”, Dracula adds again making his partner’s head quirk to the side. “You just…seem like a kind person with a good heart.”

InnocentLittleMina: You don’t know me.

“We’d like to.”

His words flow through you almost as if you can feel how genuine they are. What’s the worst that could happen?

InnocentLittleMina: “Ok. I’d love to help.”

***

Both men groan as their eyes open and take in the scene before them. After what they saw, they couldn’t care less. They just needed to find you. 

Rising to their feet, they power walk down the hall to find you closing a suitcase and quietly taking a seat on the bed. Your eyes lock with theirs as you softly smile and shrug. 

“See? I told you I had experienced real monsters.”

“Sweetheart.”, Eddie breathed as he sat beside you and pulled you to his chest. “I’m so fucking sorry you went through all that. We would never ever fucking hurt you like them.”

“Or let anyone hurt you like that.”, Steve added as he knelt in front of you. “How are you feeling?”

“Calm. Clear. It’s weird. I’ve never felt like this before. I feel like I’m…home.”

“Because you are, baby.”, the pretty boy cooed as he kissed your palms. 

“While you two were asleep, I packed up some clothes for us. I’m not sure what else we need.”

“Let me see if that relator guy called.”

After he disappeared, the metalhead cupped your face in his hands as his eyes ran along your face. You still looked like the girl they fell in love with but you seemed to have this air of confidence surrounding you that made him fall even harder. 

“I wish I could have seen your life the way I saw his and you two saw mine. I think it’s because him and I are new…”

“Oh, baby girl, trust me. You don’t want to see that. Not all in succession like that. Everything kind of sucked till I met Steve. Before him it was a blur of heartache and anger.” When he sighed, your palm circled around the back of his neck and brought his forehead down to yours eliciting a small, nervous chuckle to fall from his lips. “Fuck…are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”, you murmur. 

“Y/N, I’m a jaded asshole.”, he laughed. “It takes me a while to trust anyone and feel safe but the feeling running through me right now… God it’s so quiet. I can breathe.”

“Because that’s how I feel with you two, Daddy. You’re feeling me.”

“Fuck, Y/N.”, he groaned, his lips falling to the side of your neck. 

“Wait…Wait, Eddie. I need to show you both something first.”

####################

Present Day

“Ok, Williams, we’re right outside the door. Going in, in two.”

The officer paces around his desk as he glares at the screen watching both men continue to feed while blood drips down your neck. 

“Good. They’re still streaming in front of their computer. Be careful! They shouldn’t be armed but I’m not sure if they’ll react hostilely.”

“Entering in, 3, 2, 1. GO, BOYS!”

As soon as the door kicked in, a little box appears at the corner of your current feed showing the raiding team running through the house. Everything was still in its place including the blood staining the floor by the fridge. 

“We have all eyes on us, guys. Go slow.”

When they find the bedroom, they scream into the void for you three to get down… 

Only to find now one there.

The swat leader walked towards the computer, tearing off the note that was taped to the screen.

“I shall be glad as long as I live that even in that moment of final dissolution, there was in the face a look of peace, such as I never could have imagined might have rested there.

Our souls are knit into one, for all life and all time.

-Mina”

“FUCK!”, Officer Williams shouted as he kicked the chair in front of him. 

CaliforniaPD: You can keep running all you want but you are just making it harder on yourselves! We found you once and we can find you again!”

You whine as your head falls against Steve’s chest and your black eyes flash towards the screen with a small smile. 

“Good luck with that. I’m sorry to say, for you, we’re a lot stronger now than we’ve ever been.”, Eddie rumbled sarcastically towards the camera. 

As you pull away to lean against the metalhead’s shoulder, the other vampire growls low with needs as his head follows yours for a moment before hesitating to focus on the camera. 

“We don’t want any trouble. We just want to be left alone to be happy together but we will gladly do this dance again to keep ourselves protected and keep her safe!”

Your palm ran down his back, calming him as he tilted his head to place open mouth kisses on your shoulder as his own hand absently traveled under your shirt to run along the skin of your stomach. Eddie growled at the action as both vampires glared at each other. Grabbing his throat, the long-haired boy pulled his boyfriend’s lips to his own passionately.

“I think you all have had enough of a show…and I’m…hungry.” At the last word, your tone drops and after you wink towards the camera, you move the mouse, and shut it down.

***

“Did you guys see that? Over one million people were watching us!”, you giggle excitedly.

“Mhmm.”

Both vampires were still distracted as they detached from each other to kiss your neck again. Grinning as you bit your lip, wind messed their hair as you flash ran towards the other side of your new shared bedroom. 

“Oh, come on, boys. Now focus.”

Trying to run after you, you hastily sprinted away, your beautiful laugh filling the new house you three were going to be living in. Eddie was the one to catch you first, practically tackling you to the ground in the living room and pinning your wrists beside your head. 

“Hi, Daddy.”

As you beam up at him, he can’t help but smile down at you before bringing his lips to yours. Your hands flex in his grip but he remains steadfast as he kisses softly down your body and over your blood-stained shirt. 

 Steve crawls towards you both on his hands and knees, falling onto his tummy with his hand grabbing your cheek to turn your head so he could kiss you. Letting you go, your hands remain where they are as Eddie pulls down your panties and tosses them to the side. 

His strong palms dig into your thighs as he lifts your legs over his shoulders and you moan against the other man’s lips as Eddie presses his face into your cunt wasting no time as his mouth devours you. 

Your legs close around him and he mewls into you as your back arches off the floor. 

“Fuck, Daddy! Your mouth feels so good.”

Maneuvering behind him, Steve spreads his partners legs a bit wider and his groans vibrate through your core as the pretty boy runs his tongue between Eddie’s cheeks. You grin blissfully as you watch the sight before you and you run your fingers through the metalhead’s hair. 

“That’s it, honey. Fuck. Make our girl cum. Jesus, Y/N, I can feel how good he’s making you feel. Daddy’s so fucking amazing with that mouth isn’t he? It’s why he never shuts up.”

Eddie’s growls turn into moans when his boyfriend effortlessly slides two fingers inside him while pushing his head harder against your pussy.

“Oh, god!”

Your eyes roll back as you grind your hips against the vampire’s tongue till you tumble over the edge and cum. Releasing him from your grip around his shoulders, you pant as you try to catch your breath, shuddering at the feel of Eddie’s heavy exhales fanning your dripping core. 

You’re not sure if it was the dominance within him or just how sexy both men looked right now but something inside you bubbled forward and you rushed towards them, tackling Steve to the floor. 

“Hungry!”

Abruptly an arm wrapped around your stomach and pushed you back against the hardwood. 

“No.”, the long-haired vampire hissed as his hand clung to your throat. “You ask, little girl. The rules haven’t changed. Not yet anyway.”

“Want…boy!”

“Beg me, Y/N.”, he cooed in a sultry voice that had both you and the other man whining. “Beg Daddy, baby girl.”

“Please, Daddy. Want…” You pause as you blink, trying to clear the fog and intense need from your brain so you could focus. “I want Steve. Please, may I…have him.”

As the black irises disappear and your natural eye color returns so does his as he smiles before giving you a tender kiss. After moving out of the way, he ushers Steve between your legs and helps lift your shirt over your head. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. I just couldn’t—”

“Control yourself. I know, honey. I understand. You’re doing a lot better than I did though.” He taps his cock against your sensitive clit a couple of times making you jump and you both let out a strangled moan as he slides himself inside of you. “Shit. Always so fucking good.”

Falling on to your chest, he rolls his waist as you cling to his shoulders, leaving little pecks along his skin. When you bite into his flesh, he grunts loudly and snaps his hips hard, punching his length deep inside your heat. 

As he picks up his pace, you release him and he pushes up onto his knees, looping his arms under the back of your own so he can hold your legs open. Feeling someone near him, he opens his eyes to be met with his boyfriend’s cock in his face. Steve opened his mouth willingly and Eddie’s mouth fell open as he bobbed his head, taking him as far back as he could. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Such a good boy. Jesus, I love watching you two together.”

Threading his fingers through his hair, the metalhead groaned as he fucked his partner’s face making you whine and clench around his own cock every time you heard him gag.

“Mmm—there you go, Steve. Make our pretty girl cum.”

Shoving Eddie’s stomach, Steve growled with need as he pushed him out of his way and wrapped his arms around your back, lifting you up till you were face to face with him. Hugging him to your chest, you used his neck as leverage as you bounced and grinded against him.

When his fangs pierced your skin, your eyes squeezed shut as you did the same, taking him in as his hands grabbed the meat of your ass, guiding your movements till you trembled and came. Steve grunted at the feeling, pushing you back down onto the floor and pounding his cock into you so deeply you swear you could feel him in your stomach, through your heart, and into your soul. 

“Fuck!”, he growled in his deep vampire tone as his movements stalled and you whined as he pumped his spend aggressively into your cunt.

You couldn’t help but breathily giggle as Steve continued to run his lips and tongue along your body. Pushing his chest, you disappeared from underneath him but Eddie anticipated your move, running ahead of you and slamming his palm against the wall as his arm shot out to stop you. Before you could run the other way, he blocked you and pinned your front side to the hallway.

His hand playfully spanked your behind and you both mewled as he guided his cock into your entrance. 

“Oh, fuck, Daddy.”

Intertwining his fingers with yours, Eddie held your hands above your head and thrust his hips roughly against yours, his humid pants in your ear turning you on even more. 

“Shit…baby. Your little pussy is…so fucking perfect. J-Just like you.”

Hastily, he pulls out, turns you around to face him, and lifts you into his strong arms as you reach down to slide his length back inside you. You cling to him as he fucks his cock deep into your core leaving you both grunting into the other face. Not being able to wait, you bite into his neck and he growls loudly before doing the same. 

After dropping one of your legs, Eddie balances his forearm on the wall next to your head as aggressively takes what’s his. Your body shakes as the coil breaks in your tummy causing the metalhead himself to fall over the ledge as he thrust his release inside you. 

As you slump over in his embrace, you feel wind move your hair as Steve runs to the bathroom to turn on the shower and Eddie lifts you again so your legs are wrapped around him as he carries you that way. You can feel it in their energies, they are just as exhausted as you, leaning against you, each other, or the wall to keep from falling over. 

You barely even feel it when they dry you and carry you over to the bed. 

#############

“What’s wrong, honey?”

“I don’t know. I think…I think something’s wrong with Mina.” Eddie sighs when Steve turns away from him and focuses on the computer in front of him. “She feels…alone. I don’t like it, Steven. It reminds me of how I felt growing up with my dad.”

“There’s nothing we can do, Ed.”

“We can—”

“No. We’re not having this discussion again.”

“Why?! Why would it be so bad to bring her here? It feels like she’d be safer with us than wherever she is now!”

“Eddie, have you taken a look around? We’re on the run, you’re a vampire, we do this internet stuff for money. It’s not exactly lavish!”

Both men glare at each other as their computer pings informing them that you were online. 

“Hey, Mina. O-Oh my god. What happened?”, Steve gasps as he and his partner take in the slowly forming ring around your eye. 

“Oh, it’s nothing. I’m so clumsy and fell. Thankfully John was here to help me.”

“Yeah…thankfully…”, Eddie growled towards Steve as his heart broke for you. 

“I’m…I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Why?”, you giggle as you shrug. “You didn’t do this to me, Renfield. I did it to myself.”

***

Your glassy eyes take him in as your boyfriend huffs around the bedroom before kneeling in front of you to place an ice pack on your cheek. All you wanted him to do was leave so you could talk to Renfield and Dracula. 

You had no idea how you were going to explain this new wound to them. It was so weird having people in your life who genuinely cared about your wellbeing and you found yourself lying to them more than you ever did to keep any of your toxic partners or family calm. 

They were your friends…you didn’t want them to worry…

“This is your fault. Why do you push me like that, Y/N?”

“I just asked you when you were getting off work…”

You jump as he tosses the pack hard against the wall. 

“See? It’s that fucking attitude!”

“I’m sorry.”, you whisper, fully giving up and accepting blame so all this would end. 

Sighing, he runs his fingers along your arm as his own eyes scan you over. 

“Will you be alright?” 

He takes your nod as enough confirmation, rising to his feet and finally leaving your house. Gradually, you stand as well and head to the bathroom to wash your face.

Sitting in front of your computer, you stare at the screen as you debate on rescheduling with them but you are so desperate for a kind voice to say something…anything…to comfort you from the current hell you’re in. 

***

Your eyes slowly opened just as the sun was beginning to descend behind your black out curtains, smiling softly when they land on Steve’s gentle yet sad expression. 

“It’s ok.”, you murmur as you reach out to caress his cheek. 

Catching your hand mid-air, he brings it to his lips as he scoots closer to your frame. 

“It’s not. You could have been with us this whole time.”

“Steve, you didn’t know—”

“But I should have. Eddie saved me from my father and took me in when everything was falling apart in my house. He always told me he understood and I was always grateful for that. I should have known the first time he felt something.”

“But you’re here now.”, Eddie replied groggy from sleep as you rolled onto your back so you could see them both. “Y/N, if ever you don’t want to play rough or anything like that, you know we’d still love you. I don’t want to trigger you or—”

“No, baby, no. You’re not.”, you assure him. “With my mom and my exes… I never had any kind of control over what was happening. With you two, even last night, I know you’d stop if I asked. I can feel it.”

Eddie sighs pleasantly when you place your palm on his chest. 

“Speaking of last night, you were really sexy, Miss Computer Hacker, hiding those skills under that beautiful head of hair.” You laugh as he leans in to tenderly kiss your neck.

“You’re both safe with me to. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

Steve tilts down to slowly kiss your skin as well making you groan as you turn into Eddie’s chest making him chuckle as he presses you to him. The other vampire’s hairy chest grazes your back and you grin as you listen to them kiss above you. 

“What do you want to tonight, honey?”, Steve whispered as his fingers ran up your arms. 

“We seem to be drifting into unknown places and unknown ways.”, you recited making the metalhead laugh again. 

“So did you just memorize the book or?”

“It’s one of my favorites.”, you beam up at him as you kiss his lips and crane your neck to do the same with the other man. “We can rewrite the ending though.”

###################

@chelebelletx @mandyjo8719 @nailbatanddungeon @corkadymu 

@lemme-slytherin-that-dick @she-collects-smut @dashingdeb16

@bexreadstoomuch

#steddie x reader #steddie fluff #steddie smut #steddie fanfiction #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie fanfic #eddie stranger things #steve fanfic #steve smut #steve stranger things #joe keery #joseph quinn #stranger things #fan fiction #steddie x you #steddie x y/n #steve fluff #dom!eddie munson #sub steve harrington #sub reader #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x reader #vampire eddie x steve #camboy steddie #stranger things au

[imyourbratzdoll]

I crave a good fluffy fic with wolverine, his wife is a badass and when someone threatens him she loses her shit and kicks their ass🫡 with so much disrespect.

hey baby, I'm so sorry for taking so long! I hope you enjoy what I did, it's a bit more violent than you probably wanted.

summary - a dumb 'bad guy' lures you and your husband out, things take an escalated turn when he threatens your husband.

warning - SUPER violent, like extreme level probably, swearing, mentions of sex, dude talks of touching what's his but nothing triggering, dick and balls suffer rip.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You couldn’t believe this guy, he was really threatening your husband right in front of you. Thinking he was all tough because he could throw fire or some shit? You didn’t know what he could do, except talk a lot of shit. That was probably his power. What was his name again? Captain Talks Shit? Shits A lot? Little Fucker? Who cares, all you care about right now is that he’s threatening your man. 

You walk out of the shadows, having heard enough because honestly. Why do the bad guys always talk for so long? Have none of them realised or picked up from past bad guys mistakes? It was tiring and a waste of your time because you and Logan could’ve been gone by now, screwing each other silly, probably somewhere extremely risky. But, noooo. You had to listen to this jackass.

“Listen, dick licker. If you don’t stop threatening my fucking husband. I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you with it.” You growl, moving to stand in front of Logan. (Sure, he would have protected himself and it may look weak to the other guy that a woman is standing in front of an extremely large man, in more ways than one, wink wink. But you happen to know that this turns your husband on and who are you to deny him his fantasies?)

“Is that a threat?” Captain Dipshit sneers.

“Did it sound like a fucking compliment, Princess?” You watch as he eyes you, sizing you up and in his mind he’s probably thinking ‘yeah, I can take this chick.’ You hope his ego deflates before you kill him.

“Listen, Babe. This is between us men, now why don’t you run along and go make us a sandwich or something. Maybe put on some cute lingerie and wait for me in the bedroom ‘cause once I’m done with your husband here. You’ll be creamin’ around me.”

Logan shakes his head, stepping way back. He remembered when he accidentally said something similar and he was in a coma for a whole month, not even his fast healing could help him. 

It was like a switch turning on, the beast that lived within you had been released from its cage and not even God could save this man now. You stalked towards him, he still smirked thinking he was safe. You jump, wrapping your legs around his neck and twisting, bringing him down using a move your good friend Natasha had taught you. You move swiftly while he is down, sending a harsh kick to his face, hearing the satisfying crack of his nose and possibly jaw breaking. You grab him by his hair and lift him, a large grin covering your face as you bring him eye level with you. 

“You wanna repeat that, Princess?” You bring him closer, whispering in his ear. “How bout you go make me a sandwich, put on a cute set and I’ll bash your dick in with a baseball bat. How do ya like the sound of that? Cause I love it.” 

He struggles within your grip, trying to swing at you but with your other hand that isn’t gripping his hair. You snap his arms, relishing in the sound of bones breaking. His screams echo the warehouse, dumbarse had lured us in here without a backup plan or backup. 

You let go of your grip on his hair, immediately switching to gripping his throat instead. “You don’t like my plan, Princess? Rethinking the whole thing? Cause ya already pissed me off by threatening the man I love, but then you had the balls to say THAT? Tell me, Princess. Just between us girls. Did mummy not give you any hugs as a kid? Cause how did you think this was gonna go? You could’ve ‘killed’ the Wolverine, but he wouldn’t have stayed dead. No. But if he heard you touching me, touching what’s HIS. He would’ve torn you to shreds, but slowly. Very slowly. It’s what makes me love him.” You pat the man’s cheek, grinning as he winces. 

“How bout an apology and I won’t kill you.”

“F–fuck you.” He spits at you, SPITS. Not even clear fucking spit, this shit has blood in it. You lift your hand, wiping the spit with the back of it and then onto his clothes. 

Your face screwed up. “Well, that was stupid.” With quick movements, you throw him, watching him crash into a wall so hard that it leaves a dent. Your hand reaches out and a bat flies into it. “You’re not wearing that cute set and I don’t have a sandwich, but this will do.” He tries to shuffle away, his eyes wide. You stalk toward him and swing, smashing his dick and balls with one hit. Think Superman merged with Hulk strength, how do you think his twig and berries did?

A scream rips out of his mouth before his eyes roll back and he falls backwards. You frown and poke him with your bat. “Hey mista, you dead?” You look at Logan, “Bitch passed out.” He shakes his head at the pout on your lips. 

He walks over and places a kiss on your head, “C’mon, let’s go home now or better yet. You ready to do something real risky, Sweets.” Your eyes light up.

“Do you mean…?!”

Logan nods, smirking. “I’ll finally let you fuck me while I drive.” Your squeals escape as you jump into his arms, smothering his face with kisses.

“OH THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! You’re the best husband a woman could ask for!” And with that, Logan carries you out as you stare at him dreamily.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #sweetshifterask #imyourbratzdollwork #logan #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett imagine #wolverine #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fandom #logan howlett fic #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett imagines #logan howlett angst #logan howlett fluff #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett one shot #logan howlett x female reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #xmen

[yanderes-galore]

Hello can I request a yandere concept between ennard (hope I spelled it right) with a reader who finds out the truth about them that they aren’t actually Micheal? It can be platonic or romantic I’m not good picking ( I hope you have a nice day btw!)

Sure! So sorry for the long wait, I hope it was worth it :(

Read this as a supplementary concept to this one

Yandere! Ennard with Darling realizing they aren't Michael

Supplementary Concept

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Stalking, Body horror, Disturbing descriptions, Clingy behavior, Isolation, Implied kidnapping, Blood, Vomit, Forced companionship.

Let's be honest, at a certain point you can tell when Michael isn't Michael.

As his friend, you know him.

You've known his trauma and might have even been a childhood friend.

So when he disappears for a few days... and returns acting strange... you originally think maybe he's just sick or upset.

He doesn't seem to remember much about you... and while he looks like Michael for the most part...

It all feels too uncanny.

There's various issues going on that's described in the previous concept.

Multiple personalities, twitching, odd smells, purple skin, glowing eyes, mechanical whirring....

Ennard is unable to replicate Michael completely.

There's always something off.

It doesn't help that Ennard becomes obsessed... often stalking and visiting you in their tattered disguise.

Honestly, it won't take you long before you learn the truth.

You can figure it out yourself.

At first you had just been keeping an eye on Michael to make sure he was okay after his absence.

But now... as you notice the smell and uncanny nature... there's just no hiding it.

Ennard is aware of their time limit.

They just thought they'd have more time.

However, Ennard nearly freezes when you pull them aside.

They see the concern in your eyes, along with the fear when you're met with a glowing gaze.

"Michael... what's wrong?"

Ennard struggles with a response, doing their best to replicate Michael's speech once again.

"Nothing's wrong...?"

"Don't you dare lie to me!"

Ennard pauses at your sudden... assertive tone.

If they could sweat... they would.

"What do you mean?"

"You never went to the hospital to get checked, you don't seem right... and that smell! You smell like a... corpse."

Ennard twitches, making you jump a bit.

Corpse... you poor thing, too smart for your own good.

"... we thought we could enjoy you a little bit longer..."

"Michael" murmurs, looking saddened.

"We? What do you mean 'We'?"

"We aren't Michael... but we wish we were so we could stay."

Mechanical whirring echoes in the room as you notice Michael's purple skin tear.

You back up, nausea setting in as the smell gets worse.

Sickening snaps and rips echo in the room... blood pooling down and staining the... thing.

The sight makes you lurch over and vomit, the stress and smell squeezing your stomach in an uncomfortable vice.

Like some sort of stomach churning alien... Ennard emerges from the skin of your friend.

You nearly lose your stomach again as the mechanical beast stumbles forward... an amalgamated circus clown of robotic parts.

"We don't want to say goodbye..."

The robot murmurs sadly, stepping forward as you scramble to stay back.

"Maybe we don't have to...! Maybe you can stay...."

You go to try and leave, only for the mangle of parts to pounce.

Wires dig into your skin like claws... situating you in place like a trap.

Ennard's many mechanical eyes stare down at you.

They take in your scared expression and giggle.

"You're our friend now... we're so much better than Michael."

The robot coos towards you, grip tight and unrelenting.

"We'll be your friend forever... you just have to come with us."

You struggle the best you can, but the wires dig too deep.

"Your fear is funny... but don't be scared...."

You're walked towards the backdoor of your home, the robot giggling.

"We'll take you away... so It's just us and you! If you fight us..."

The robot hisses... turning you so you stare at their bloody face plates.

"We have other ways of keeping you with us forever..."

Your mind flashes to thoughts of Michael... and you learn it's better if you cooperate.

#yandere five nights at freddys #yandere fnaf #yandere fnaf sister location #yandere ennard

[princessconsuela120]

✰YOUR PAIN IS MY PAIN✰

—✰

summary: after a run in with rookwood at the three broom sticks, Sebastian and mc run into rookwood on their way out of hogsmead.

warnings: crucio curse, pain, cursing

Authors note: sorry for my inactivity, I should be more here. Send in Harry Potter requests!

—✰ SINCE STARTING SCHOOL AT HOGWARTS, late night hogsmeade dates between you and Sebastian had become a weekly occurrence. Ever Friday Sebastian insisted you two would need to make a trip to the outskirts of Hogwarts, and do everything Hogsmeade could offer. Even before you dated, Sirona Ryan had grown so used to the two of you, she had started pre-making the drinks you two would order before you arrived. While these evenings were full of light and fun; prancing others at Zonko’s, or testing the new candies at Honeydukes. No matter what the day adventures held, the night would end at the three broomsticks. Now that you two have been dating for a year now, these moments had meant even more to you.

“Well well well, if it isn’t my favorite 5th year.” A low slimy voice scolded, causing Sebastian to grab your hand, pulling you slightly behind him protectively.

“Leave us alone.” Sebastian hissed, pointing his wand at the man infront of you.

The one negative of going to hogsmeade so often, was that enemies tended to know where you were. This being Rookwood and his army, which still haven’t left you alone since the wizarding war ended. It was torture.

“Confident are we?” Rookwood teased, an evil smirk on his face as he did.

“Look, rookwood, we aren’t doing anything to bother you. We were just leaving.” You tried, grabbing Sebastian’s arm to walk away, before Rookwood stepped infront of you.

“Running away? Again, l/n? I guess I should expect it from you.”

“Ignore him Sebastian.” You said quickly, realizing the furrowed look of anger on Sebastian’s face.

“I don’t believe we’ve properly met.” Rookwood said, holding a hand out to shake Sebastian’s, to which he stepped further infron of you.

“I don’t want to be acquainted with the likes of you.”

“Another bold one. I like when my prey fights.”

You felt the hairs on your back stand up, feeling the fear that used to consume you while walking around hogsmeade alone, a giant target on your back. You linked arms with Sebastian, noticing the anger that would soon trigger him to attack.

“We’ll be going now.” You whispered, pulling Sebastian along as he hesitantly followed.

“You dare walk away from me while I’m speaking to you!” He shouted after you, causing Sebastian to point his wand at him.

“No one was speaking to you in the first place, rookwood! Now that’s enough! You don’t want to see this get ugly.” Sebastian snapped, finally feeling angry with Rookwoods threats.

“Don’t I? It seems as though it already has.” Rookwood tested, stepping closer as Sebastian pointed his wand at rookwoods throat. “Now, utter another word and I can just as easily cast a spell on you.” Sebastian threatened, turning around before beginning to walk away. You turned to catch Rookwood about to cast something, making Sebastian cast as well.

“Expelliarmus!” He shouted, but Rook wood dodged.

“Sebastian no!” You shouted, watching how the spell angered Rookwood.

“You ignorant child…” he said with a laugh. “Crucio!”

It seemed as though time went in slow motion. Sebastian turned, you turned, suddenly before you knew it, you were sliding infront of him, and then everything went white. Blinding, bright, shearing white. The kind you see when you die. All you could feel was pain, not like anything you’ve ever felt. You tried to scream but no words left your mouth. You were numb.

“No! Depulso!” Sebastian yelled, as Rookwood fell against the wall behind him. Sebastian fell to his knees, pulling you into his lap as he heart raced. “No, please. Y/n?” He choked out his tears, turning angrily at Rookwood. “What have you done!?”

“It was meant for you.” He grunted, before disappearing in the air. Sebastian couldn’t help the angry scream that left his body, heaps of pain leaving with it as he looked down at you.

“Stay with me love.” He said, holding up your head to kiss you. The convulsions stopped, and now your eyes only half open, yet only the whites of them were visible.

“What’s going on out here?” Sirona asked, walking out from the three broomsticks, most likely having heard Sebastian’s shouting from inside.

“Sirona! Please! He, he hit her. She’s not opening her eyes.” He panicked, wiping his eyes quickly to stop his tears from falling.

“It’s alright Sallow, take a deep breath. We’re gonna aparate her to the hospital wing, can you meet us?” She offered, moving to examine you. Sebastian nodded, sniffling loudly as he did.

“Of course, yes.” He placed a kiss to the back of your palm, sighing as you apperated away. “Don’t give up on me.” He whispered, hugging himself as he searched for the closest floo flame.

—✰

SEBASTIAN HADNT LEFT THE HOSPITAL WING SINCE YOU HAD BEEN ADMITTED. It was true, Sebastian had his fair share of the dark curses. He even remembered when you needed to escape the scriptorium, how blearing the pain was when he had you cast Crucio on him. He knew it must have been worse for you, Rookwood meant to hit hard and he did. It had been 5 hours since you arrived. Sebastian hasn’t let go of your hand.

“Seb?” You said softly, feeling your head proud as you tried to sit up. Sebastian quickly jumped up from his seat beside you, crushing you in a hug the second he saw your eyes.

“Y/n? You’re awake, hi!” He cheered excitedly, smushing you in a hug making you chuckle.

“Woah, slow down, I’m still a bit sore.”

“I’m just so glad you’re okay.” He said softly, a wide smile on his lips as he pulled away, sitting at the edge of your bed.

“You think I’d let rookwood be the thing to finally take me down? My pride is way too high for that.” You joke, causing the two of you to laugh. Before you can say anything else you notice the tears now forming in Sebastian’s eyes, causing your heart to ache.

“Hey, hey it’s okay. I’m right here aren’t I?” You reassured, grabbing his cheeks and gently wipping his tears, smiling sweetly at him.

“You shouldn’t, be in that hospital bed. It was meant for me.” You sighed, watching his eyes drift sadly to the ground.

“Sebastian, look at me sweetheart.” You said softly, grabbing onto his hands and giving them a reassuring squeeze as he looked up at you. “Your pain, is my pain. I would die before I let anything happen to you.” You explained, a single tear falling down his cheek.

“I just, seeing you on the ground, so helpless…”

“Do you remember back in the scriptorium? We needed Crucio in order to leave?” You asked, sitting up as he nodded. “You told me, you would teach me how to do Crucio, so I could cast it on you. The second I saw that spell hit your chest, the rest sparking around you as you knelt to the floor…Sebastian, I felt my heart leave my body. The thought that, that I could have caused you pain.” You explained, causing Sebastian to shrug.

Your heart ached just at the thought.

“Yeah but, I mean we had to. We would’ve died down there.”

You nodded, smiling as you placed a hand on his cheek to guide his face to you.

“And I realize that if we had been in that situation now, I would cast it on myself before I would ever let you be in pain.”

Sebastian scoffed, chuckling at your words.

“That wouldn’t work y/n.” He teased, making you both laugh. You smiled, happy to have seen joy in Sebastian's drained expression.

“Of course you’re correcting me on spells while I’m trying to be sweet.” You joked, making him laugh again.

“Well, next time is my turn to get Crucio alright? We’re one for one, I don’t wanna see you like that again at least until I’m there first.” He explained, making you laugh now.

“Well, I’d hope we aren’t in that situation again.”

You both nodded, urging Sebastian to join you in your bed. He carefully cradled you in his arms, taking careful percussion, as if you would break if he didn’t.

“Well if we are, I’d protect you until my last breath.” He kissed the back of your palm, sighing as he squeezed your fingers, his other hand dancing patterns against your arm. “Your pain is mine. My heart wouldn’t beat without you around y/n.”

“And my love to you.”

#sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy sebastian #sebastian sallow #Sebastian sallow x reader #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy

[californiannostalgia]

Processing identity as a child abuse survivor

Recently I had a huge revelation. Come with me on this childhood trauma realization journey (if you want).

This post was written for those wavering on the 'was it abuse' question.

Fair warning, each of these revelations were a whammy. I recommend you keep in mind that these revelations will transform the way you see yourself and the world. This took me out of commission for hours at a time.

Revelation 1: Was I Abused?

Read this Tumblr post. Go down the list. Check the 'yes'es and 'maybe's.

'Was I abused' is a yes or no question. I need you to really think about this if your answer is 'kind of'. If you could be truly honest with yourself, what would your answer be?

For years I've gone to the logic of 'it wasn't that bad,' and 'at least the worst didn't happen,' or 'others have had it worse'. This is such a low bar. You deserve better than the bar your parents set for you. The socioeconomic circumstances and the normalization of violence in your living area? Yes, influential. But not a justification.

At the end of the day, the veracity of these statements don't even matter. It's a yes or no question: 'Am I a survivor of child abuse?'

It may take a really long time to truly process, and even then it might feel uncomfortable saying it like it's truth. I need you to know your truth is truth. It's a yes or no question.

Take a break. I recommend you don't progress further until you've processed Revelation 1.

(Shameless plug-in of my fandom blorbo interests: Rick Riordan's Trials of Apollo series really helped me with this first revelation. It made me feel seen and less alone. It may not be perfect, but I personally liked it!)

Revelation 2: What does this mean? (health-wise)

Listen to this Ted Talk by an expert (medical professional).

This is the part where I got angry and really fucking sad. Let yourself be sad. Let yourself be furious. Our life is not our fault and we're still stuck with this lot.

Genuinely this was such a shock for me to realize. The thing that has the biggest impact on my life is not my anxiety, depression, ptsd, insomnia, blood pressure, immune health, etc. The root cause of my physical and mental illnesses is Adverse Childhood Experiences.

ACE is more common than you'd think. Acknowledging that what happened to you was bad will be beneficial to humanity's survival in the long run. Like any illness, ACE can be fought at a societal level.

Take a break. I recommend you don't progress to the next revelation until you've processed Revelation 2.

Take your time to be angry and sad. Take forever. You never have to forgive your abuser, even if they change their behavior. The chance at a civil acquaintanceship you might be willing to extend to your parents doesn't require your forgiveness.

.

Revelation 3: Why is your therapist recommending you retell your life story?

This one is mostly for when you have steady access to a therapist. Here are some things I wish I'd known before seeking out therapy in the US.

(Is it shitty that you can't get therapy on your own terms when you're underage? Yes, it fucking is. To those of us who survived to adulthood: holy shit y'all. At 19 I felt like absolute fucking bullshit, like my brain was a burning ball of tangled barbed wire. It does feel absolutely shitty. But reaching 19 is an achievement.)

The thing is, I do or say a lot of things that I later come to think of as embarrassing, inappropriate, or in certain circumstances, potentially abusive. Genuine trigger reactions happen. I will always have to live with a piece of my parents in my head. But I don't want to do to another person what they did to me. Self-awareness is what separates me from my abusers.

What to do about this? Number 1: chill out. You're not gonna be your abuser. Humans are unique and imperfect. They have not replicated themselves in you. It's okay to make mistakes when you're talking or reacting. Your brain is fucked up. You can do something differently next time.

Number 2: read this article about Overthinking, Over-apologizing, Oversharing, and Overwhelmed as trauma responses.

Then read this article on how to deal with Unresolved Trauma.

Yeah. It be like that. Isn't it fucked up? Recognizing the four Os in my behavior helped me realize I'm not an antisocial asshole by default.

Unresolved trauma is the root cause for my behaviors that I think of as unhealthy. This revelation happened very recently for me. Before this point in time, I couldn't understand why I would want to recount traumatic events in therapy.

At this point in time, I have regular access to a therapist I'm okay with. Going over memories and deconstructing the blame system seems like a reasonable thing to try.

What happened to you as a child is not your fault. You're not the one who landed yourself in your life. You've been given an unfairly difficult situation to be responsible for. You did not create your coping mechanisms for shits and giggles.

So yeah. Number 3: figure out your life with the help of a therapist. Let's see where we are ten years later or something.

Nothing is easy and everything is confusing. Take a break, hydrate, eat, sleep, do something nice for yourself. Do something you like doing. Thanks for reading.

#child abuse #domestic abuse #trials of apollo #mental health #life advice #my thoughts #resources #therapy #Youtube

[terras-domain]

what do you think the sexiest thing StayC Isa would do? (Besides showing off her thicc thighs)

terra's note: Hey anon, took me a while to write this, cuz I have to think of a wild theme but I couldn't make it short enough like I usually do. So uuuh yeah, hope you accept this little short "smut" of her getting railed hehe. Anyways love you all, whoever it is reading this and hope you have a nice day <33 (trigger warning: voyeurism, cum in pussy, stranger sex)

words: 967

Isa one time going out to a water park with the girls, and after a tiring day of going rides and splashing water she rests on a giant floaty, laying down on her stomach while she relaxes on a lazy river. While she lets the stream bring her across the lap of the chill pool, she feels a hand groping on her soft covered ass, causing her to jolt up and look around the area, seeing there's actually a guy that was groping her.

For some reason the guy had zero idea who he did that too, in his mind that was just some random hot chick you would find at a water park. The fact she's alone makes it the more reasons for Isa to be a prey for his lust. Isa, seeing the guy not even flinch after making direct eye contact, tilted her head in confusion and questioned, "do you not know who I am?". The pervert only gave a short reply, "no idea, but your body sure does sing for me." Isa could only shake her head in disbelief. Is Stayc really that underrated? After a little thought, she's pretty stressed from schedule and when else will she ever be treated like a normal woman? She looked at the guy that groped him and left her floaty somewhere she can pick up later. The guy was ecstatic to see Isa still there with him even after practically molesting her.

The lazy river was deep enough to submerge Isa's lower body, so when the guy kept touching and squeezing her round ass, it wasn't visible. It was a slow day sure but there's still people around to see the guy groping her ass. They ended up near a section where they spray mists of water which covers the vision of most people around. The man stopped her, letting the journey around the lazy river to a short pause. "Let's have a little fun baby~" he lowered his shorts, letting his cock out and lead her hand to hold it.

Isa was shocked to feel her soft hands holding such a huge member, out in the open, only hidden underneath the pool of water mixed with chlorine. She had no other choice but to take a step forward to close the gap between them, making sure nobody sees them. "Fuck this is so wrong..." Isa muttered, her voice breathy from anxiety, scared of getting caught. "Don't worry sweetie. Nobody can see us~" the soft yet deep voice from the man reassured Isa to be more calm. She kept her hand moving back and forth on his cock, working it up to make him hard, almost leaking a bit of precum from his cock.

"Oh gosh baby you're a pro at this aren't you?" As the guy endured Isa's soft hands jerking her off, he reached down to her thighs, groping her. It's either the mist is too thick today or the people that went past them were blinded by the two having literal sex at the corner of a lazy river. The fact they haven't been caught yet boost the ego of the man, wanting to take more risks. He turned her around and slowly slide his cock in between her thick milky thighs. Isa yelped, but immediately covers her mouth with her hand, suppressing her moans while the pervy guy keeps doing his business. She can see multiple people crossing paths with them as he fucks her smooth thighs, but for some reason nobody was noticing anything weird about them. The man in heat continues his pursuit between Isa's thick thighs, humping his cock back and forth as he grunted, trying to hold back his load.

"Fuck baby, I wanna cum." He grunted, whispering in her ears so that it won't be heard by anyone else. "What? But then they'll see your cum though" Isa argued, worried as she raised an eyebrow whilst looking at him. It was too late, he couldn't wait any longer. He had to improvise somehow. Last resort, he slide Isa's underwear to the side, and slide in his cock deep inside as he shot his load deep in her tight cunt, leaving Isa to bite her lips, fighting the urge to scream out her moans as her pussy gets filled up. "Fuckkk....." Isa looked back at him, seeing his panting, joyous face from cumming to such a baddie. As much as Isa wanted to punch him in the face and tear his horny dick off, she had fun, so she lets him off. "That was fun~" the man smirked, huffing and puffing to regain his breath. "What's your name cutie?" He asked, trying to hook up for another round sometime else. "oh sorry~ I can't give you my number. I uuuh can't really do that" Isa replied, her forehead sweating as she tries to find herself a way to get out of the river to get back her floaty. "aww why's that babygirl? I promise it'll be worth your time the next time we meet." He countered, pushing his luck to get the girl who satisfied his lustful needs. He wants her again, more and more of that juicy body. "Sorry dude, it's pretty complicated. Search up Stayc, maybe you'll find some answers." She smiled, in a show off manner as she climbed the steps to get out of the pool of chlorine, her thighs jiggle at every step which made the public eye fixated on her for that moment, especially the one that managed to cum in her tight pussy. She walked away, hiding the cum deep in her pussy hoping nobody sees it. "This is one hell of a story to tell Sieun unnie" she sighed, walking away quickly as her steps fades away from the scene.

#kpop smut #kpop nsft #anon ask #female idol smut #isa smut #stayc smut #short ahh smut

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

“Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It’s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel

[megyulmi]

➠ Sukuna, the ‘shunned’ child and the demonisation and worship of ‘unwanted’ children in Japanese folklore:

[long read. trigger warning: referenced folktales and practices depict themes of infanticide, religious rituals and child exorcism, demonisation and worship of children, ableism, suicide, implied sa, and period-typical outdated social views. they are not a representation of my personal beliefs. please read with caution.]

New revelations of Sukuna’s past in Chapter 257 made me look deeper into some of the tales and customs from Japanese folklore about children deemed ‘abominable’ in the eyes of society that I had previously noted down and I decided to share as I think they could offer a better insight into Sukuna as a character and what might have inspired Akutami Gege’s depiction of him.

It would be better to start with a bit of the social background of Japanese folklore. I will use the Emishi (an ancient ethnic group of people who lived in parts of Honshū, especially in the Tōhoku region) as an example, the oral tales of whom later blended with Shintō and Buddhist religious concepts and heavily influenced Japanese folklore. It is believed that many of their tales were shaped by the region’s difficult history of natural disasters, famines, and geographic isolation. In the Tōhoku region, infanticide was sometimes used as a form of ‘birth control’ due to repeated famines. The bodies of ‘unwanted children’ were often disposed of in rivers or lakes.

Another important source of such folklore is the city of Tōno in Iwate prefecture, known particularly for Kappa, tales of which could offer a good basis for the beginning of my intended analysis.

Kappa, a green, amphibious, child-like creature with a yellow beak for a mouth and a turtle shell on its back is one of the most popular Yōkai from Japanese folklore. Some researchers say that the darker aspects of Kappa tales in Tōhoku may be an echo of the region’s tragic history of famines and the high rates of infant mortality caused by a harsh climate, natural disasters, and the tax system that was paid in rice. Similarly, many people in Tōno (which is part of the Tōhoku region) believe that tragic history is one of the origins of the stories of Kappa. The Kappa of Tōno specifically are said to be red in colour rather than green, which may allude to the Japanese word for infant - akachan, which derives from aka, the word for red. From this perspective, Kappa are creatures born out of social challenges and disasters. They may not seem all too relevant to Sukuna, but the need to mention them will come up in the later part.

Moving on, at the beginning I mentioned that ‘unwanted children’ were often disposed of in the rivers and lakes, which is also found in the Japanese creation myth. I discussed the variations of the myth in this post about Sukuna previously (you do not need to read it for the moment, but please note that it has many variations), but somehow I did not mention their first ‘inadequate’ child. According to the myth, before they had Kagutsuchi, Izanagi and Izanami had a child as a result of their first attempt at a union, but the child, known as Hiruko (‘Leech Child’), was born deformed. The mistake was attributed to a ritual error on the part of Izanami, who, as a woman, should never have spoken first (i.e. initiated the union). Considering the child inadequate for a diety, they set him adrift in a boat in hopes he would die at the sea. This myth reflects how women and children who were born ‘different’ or seen unable to serve their ‘purpose’ were treated.

Continuing from the myth, Chapter 257 made me think of the tale of Katako, in which the protagonist is born half-human and half-oni. What is Sukuna’s true nature we cannot know for certain. We know he was a human once, but we do not know enough of his past to assume if there was more to him (how and why he as a human might have come to be called the King of Curses will be explained in the later part), but the tale still has the potential to give us insight into Sukuna and his mother’s relationship. The tale has various versions with different endings, but it generally could be summarised as follows:

[A long time ago, a man encountered a man-eating ogre (from here on referred to as oni) while working in the field. He told the oni how much he loved mochi (rice cake), jokingly adding that he could even trade his wife for it. Taking his casual banter seriously, the oni treated him to mochi. The man ate his favourite food to his fill and happily went home only to find that the oni had taken his wife in exchange for the treat. The man searched everywhere and finally found his wife on the island where the oni lived. The man and his wife managed to come back home with Katako (meaning ‘Half-Child’), a child born of his wife and the oni on the island. However, Katako was always ostracised by his human peers (in another version, it is said that he had an insatiable appetite for eating humans). At ten years old, tired of being ridiculed, he asked his mother ‘to cut the oni part of him into pieces’ when he died, and then committed suicide.]

In the tale, Katako’s relationship with his mother seems to be of trust. He is cast out of society by humans and despite his mother being one as well, he does not harbour hate for her, he trusts her enough to leave his final wish upon her. We do not know much about Sukuna’s relationship with his mother, but the manner he referred to her in the last chapter makes it seem that he also harbours no hostility toward her. This tale also shows how children deemed ‘different’ were treated.

In past ages, children, being considered closer to the gods and the Other World, also played the part of intermediary between humans and the gods in Japanese society. This task of mediation between two separate worlds fell to them because they were regarded as incomplete persons (until the age of seven it was considered uncertain whether they would live or return to the Other World: a belief related to the challenges indicated at the beginning). While considered sacred beings different in nature from adults, they were at the same time looked down upon and referred to as kodomo (where ~domo has a negative/belittling connotation), gaki (hungry ghost or demon; brat), or jari (lit. gravel).

Back in the day, people referred to the killing off of ‘unwanted children’ (mabiki or ‘culling’, a common old slang for infanticide) as ‘sending a child back’, and a dead child was given a special non-Buddhist funeral. The various rituals surrounding birth and the child’s upbringing were intended, through communication with the Other World, to transform the child into an earthly being. This aspect of the ritual made me think of Sukuna’s mask and how that part of his face resembles a burn scar (note: i am aware the nature of his ‘mask’ is still not clear and whether it is really one) in some of the official illustrations. It is known that rituals of purification included fire and water magic. Exorcism of demons, aversion of disasters, and other rituals for the removal of pollution were frequent. A katashiro (paper cut in the shape of a man) symbolising the disaster would be burned or floated down the river as well. Personally, I see the possibility of Sukuna’s scar (if it really happens to be one) being from one of such rituals.

Continuing, there is a term - Goryō used to refer to the spirits of those who had died violently (e.g. by murder or execution) and have become gods. It also included those who had died untimely deaths and therefore had been unable to fulfil their purpose in this world. Some notable gods such as Hachiman, Tenjin, and Tenno were once considered powerful Goryō. Great natural disasters and social unrest were attributed to them; rituals designed to appease them were performed, and a cult of such worship evolved. It was (usually) as a result of belief in Goryō that particular individuals came to be worshipped as gods. At times when public unrest threatened the social order, elements estranged or excluded from the ‘normal system/order’ were assigned the status of Goryō and worshipped as such. The cult was intended to purify and renew society. Manga has given us a similar glimpse of Sukuna’s past, where despite being feared (and despised), people were ready to serve him (and pray in his name) for their own well-being. I think Akutami intended to echo this very aspect of society through the scene.

I mentioned that children were considered closer to the gods and the Other World, but not all children were treated equally. One version of the origin of Kamadogami in the Tōhoku region is that he was an ‘ugly child’ from the Dragon Palace who had been killed and was thereafter worshipped at household hearths. Zashikiwarashi, who often inhabits old houses and is said to bring good fortune while he remains, is another household god in the shape of a child or, in another version, the spirit of an unwanted child who, having been killed off, became the guardian god of houses. I mentioned Hiruko at the beginning as well, who was set afloat on the boat in the sea. Despite that, he is in some Shintō shrines identified with Ebisu, the patron of fishermen and tradesmen. Their worship was for the purposes indicated in the previous abstract, to avoid their wrath. Sukuna has not been ‘killed off’ like these children were, but such worship shows us the general psyche of the public.

I indicated that socially inferior and rebellious beings were treated similarly in the previous part. The character Dō of Dōji (童子, meaning child) once meant ‘slave’, tattooed on the forehead, and was closely linked to notions of personal status. It signified one who was not a complete person and also one who had not yet been initiated, in other words, one who did not belong to the order of this world, one who was in this world but not of it. They were despised, feared, and avoided by ordinary people for their strange appearance and magical powers. In some cases they even formed separate ‘child’ villages (dōji mura), calling themselves ‘descendants of oni (demons)’. Since they played the role of demons during the rituals, they were shunned by the nobility as if they were real demons. Could this somehow connect to Sukuna’s title? I do believe there is a possibility this could have inspired his being as the King of Curses.

The ‘ugly child’ who appears in the story of the origin of Kamadogami has parallels in Yokenai, Untoku, Hyotoku, and Hanatarekozo, children who brought good fortune and prosperity to the house in return for offerings to the Watery World of kadomatsu (pine-branch gate decorations for the New Year) and firewood. But despite that, their ‘ugliness’ and names were used as an indication that these children did not belong to this world. It is important to note that socially inferior and rebellious beings were treated in the same manner (here is where the point connects to Sukuna, continued from the next part in depth). Such children were often associated with the colour red. For example, Zashikiwarashi is described as red-haired and red-faced. Kintaro, Shutendoji, and other children born in unusual circumstances (but may not have been considered an ‘ugly child’) and brought up in the mountain wilderness are also said to have had red bodies and were endowed with superhuman strength. I also mentioned that Kappa from Tōno were depicted as red. We see Sukuna often associated with the colour red, particularly, his eyes are red. I believe the above-mentioned could be the reason for that.

Personally, what we know of Sukuna and his past seems to echo these folktales and practices as the foundation of his character. He was a ‘Demon’ for being an ‘abominable’ child, but he was worshipped for this same reason as well. Whether he was born that way after eating his twin in the womb or something happened to him later in life cannot be known yet, but it is clear his ‘abominable’ appearance could have warranted the same treatment from society. It could also explain Kenjaku’s ‘fascination’ with him as a being. We do not know what relationship they had or how exactly they came to know each other, but there is clearly a reason why a being such as Sukuna would ‘work’ with them. We do not know much about Kenjaku either, but it could be possible that they (Kenjaku) once were either (1) one of those ‘priests’ who performed exorcism to purify ‘demon’ children or (2) someone who offered such children refuge (perhaps and more likely, for their own personal gain). It would also relate to the variations of Ryomen Sukuna’s story that inspired Akutami Gege.

[Disclaimer: This post does not intend to demonise Shintoism or Buddhism, but to tell folklore and practices for analytical purposes. Additionally, English is not my native language and this is only a personal interpretation as just another reader that I am sharing in case someone finds it interesting or can use the information for better analysis.]

#oh. ha. guess who zoned out and ended up with this huge info dump. #if anyone actually reads this i will be shocked. #this is probably the last one on sukuna. (watch me change my mind when something new is revealed next chapterㅋㅎ) #jjk #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #jjk spoilers #jjk analysis #jjk meta #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #(which one is the actually used tagㅋㅎ)