#and wear my fave skirt to hide the fact that i Have Legs and not a ghost tail

[pastel-the-ghost]

you ever just get The Urge to do a bunch of kin-affirming things

[artificialqueens]

If you care to find me (Jan/Jackie) - Rune

Hello! I’m a first time submitter, long time fan. Y’all can call me Rune. I desperately wanted to write for Jan and Jackie because they’re two of my faves from this season, and thus a college-lesbian-AU was born. Comments and concrit are always welcome and I’m open to requests either here or on my blog at @runic-riptide Hope y’all enjoy!

The party was in full swing by the time Jackie arrived. She could see a few other people from the theatre department, but overall she didn’t recognize many of the people crowded into the sorority house. The Kappa Lambda Mu sorority was all fashion majors and a few of them had made the costumes for the theatre department’s performance of Wicked. That led into the current raging after party for the closing night of the show.

Jackie thought it had gone really well, they’d gotten a standing ovation at the end and thankfully none of the sound equipment had fucked up during the show. As the main sound tech, that had been her biggest worry for weeks. But now it was over and she could enjoy the party.

“Jackieeeeee!” a heavily accented voice called over the music. Jackie was blindsided by a mess of giggling French girl, as Nicky plowed into her side, the Red solo cup in her hand splashing something that smelled overwhelmingly of coconut rum onto the carpet. “You made it!”

Jackie reached out to steady Nicky; how was she still standing in those heels? “Yeah, I couldn’t miss it!”

“Come, we’ll get you a drink! Crystal is mixing and everything tastes wonderful!” Nicky shouted over the din. She took Jackie by the wrist and began leading her through the throng of people towards the kitchen. Jackie waved at Gigi and Heidi, both girls camped out by the snack table that was set up in the living room as she was pulled.

The kitchen had less people but not by much. There was a small cluster of people crowded around the makeshift bar on the island and Crystal was standing on the backside shaking a tumbler full of what looked like UV Blue and edible glitter.

“Miss Methyd! We have a theatre nerd in need of a drink! S’il vous plait!” Nicky hollered. Crystal nodded and dumped the blue mixture into another red Solo cup, handing this one off to an already tipsy looking Brita.

Crystal grinned at Jackie, her makeup already smudged a bit, “What can I getcha, Miss Cox?”

“Um, something fruity? With not too much alcohol?” Jackie replied. She could handle her liquor, but preferred staying sober in large groups. “Thanks!”

“Coming right up!” Crystal smiled and began pouring lemon vodka and Sprite into a fresh tumbler. She shook it lightly and poured the mix into a cup before adding a dash of Apple Pucker and a lime wedge. “Here you go! It’s a Sour Clown! A Crystal Methyd original.”

Jackie thanked her again and took a small sip. It didn’t have much of an alcohol taste and she was grateful.

“Come on, Miss Cox! Let’s go find your people!” Nicky said as she finished pouring more coconut rum into her cup. She took the wrist not supporting a cup and Jackie was pulled back into the main party.

Gigi and Heidi were still by the snacks, Brita was attempting to twerk on the makeshift dance floor, and Aiden and Jaida were standing nearby, badly hiding matching grins behind their own cups. Jackie scanned the crowded room and had to stifle a brief flash of disappointment, as the girl she was looking for didn’t seem to be in the throng of bodies.

Nicky pulled her down onto the cushy couch pushed against the far wall and promptly stretched out, kicking off her heels and laying stockinged feet in Jackie’s lap. Jackie grinned at the younger girl, only Nicky could be so comfortable with someone she’d barely known two months.

“So, tell me Miss Cox, Miss Cox if you’re nasty, tell me…what is up with you and the cheerleader.” Nicky grinned, taking a large gulp of her drink.

Jackie could feel heat creep up her neck and hoped the lights were dim enough to hide the blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she mumbled into her cup.

“Ne ment jamais a une fille francaise, mon petite. It’s unbecoming.”

“Nicky, you know I don’t speak French.” Jackie groaned. Apparently, they really were having this conversation.

“Never lie to a French girl. We can smell bullshit from a kilometer away.” Nicky translated, grinning smugly.

“There’s nothing between me and-and Jan. Nothing.” Jackie argued, plucking at the runs in Nicky’s tights.

“Please, Jackie, I have known you for what? Two months? Two and a half? It is painfully obvious that you like the cheerleader.” Nicky retorted, taking another sip. “Remember? You slipped and cut the music during the first dress rehearsal when she came out as Elphaba? Everyone turned to look and you turned as red as the skirt you were wearing that day.”

“You remember what skirt I was wearing?” Jackie giggled.

“Of course! Dear Gigi made it for you, said your others were…? Ah, de matrone? Motherly? Matronly!” Nicky yelled, finally finding the right word.

“My other skirts are not matronly! Gigi just likes short skirts.” Jackie argued, slightly offended.

“Yes, they are, dear. Every other skirt you own looks like you got them at a librarian’s estate sale.” Gigi chimed in, taking the seat next to Jackie and tickling the bottom of Nicky’s foot. Nicky shrieked and kicked, nearly upending Jackie’s drink all over her.

“Arrete ca! Devil child! The audacity of you!” Nicky cried, scrambling to sit up straight.

“So what’s the tea? What’s the dish?” Gigi said, ignoring Nicky’s remarks.

“Jackie is refusing to acknowledge that something’s up with her and the cheerleader. You know, the one. Elphaba?” Nicky replied, outrage at Gigi forgotten in favor of gossip.

“Ahhhh, yes. Jan, Miss Jan Sport. Theatre major extraordinaire and cheerleader 24/7.” Gigi grinned at Jackie. “There is definitely something up.”

“There is nothing! I swear!” Jackie complained. She grabbed Nicky’s cup from her. “I am not nearly drunk enough to be talking about this.”

Jackie took a large gulp and tried not to cough as the rum burned down her throat. She really did not want to talk about this. She’d done four productions with Jan and every time Jan was the only one she’d noticed during the shows. She was… captivating. Her vocals were astounding, nearly the entire department was jealous of her ability to belt high notes like they were nothing. And during the dry runs, she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, brown eyes lit up with love for her craft. Her passion was enthralling and Jackie fell a little bit more in love with her every performance. Not that she’d ever tell Jan any of this, being a behind the scenes kind of girl. The only interactions they’d had were when Jackie needed to set up her mic. But the brilliant smile she got from Jan was worth the limited moments she got to spend with the other girl.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Jackie.” Gigi snorted. “You look at her like she hung the moon and it’s obvious to everyone but Jan, apparently.”

“Good, I’d prefer if it stayed that way. She barely knows I exist anyway. I’m just a sound tech, as long as she sounds good, that’s all she needs to know about me.” Jackie replied.

“And you’re just as oblivious, dear.” Nicki continued as if Jackie hadn’t spoken. “We all see the way she looks at you as well.”

“Looks at me? Jan doesn’t look at me. I think you’ve spent one too many nights staring too hard at your sewing machine, Nicky. You must be going blind.”

“Oh, she looks at you alright.” Gigi smirked. “In fact, she’s looking at you right now.”

Jackie started and nearly dropped her stolen drink. It took a good amount of her willpower not to start looking around for the other girl. “Ha ha, Gigi, very funny.”

“Oh, it is no joke, mon petite. Jan’s by the entryway to the kitchen, staring at you like she’d rather have something other than liquor on her lips.” Nicky grinned smugly.

Jackie swiftly cast her eyes to the kitchen, trying not to move her head too much. Gigi and Nicky were right. Jan was standing there, staring directly at her. She looked gorgeous. No remnants of the green makeup remained and her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, tendrils curling over shoulders bared by a sleeveless black dress. Jackie’s cheeks burned as Jan smiled, noticing Jackie staring back. Jackie swiftly lowered her gaze, taking another large drink of rum.

“Well? Go over there! She obviously wants you to!” Gigi encouraged.

Jackie shook her head. “She could be looking at you or at Nicky. I’m telling you, there’s nothing about me to stare at.”

“Un autre mensonge, mon petite. There is plenty about you to stare at. If you weren’t so devoted to your international studies, I’d have snatched you to model for me already. Those legs, that neck, the dignity with which you hold yourself. I’d have the best model in Kappa Lambda Mu, if you wore my clothes.” Nicky countered, not sounding nearly as drunk as she looked.

“I agree.” Gigi continued. “You have a lovely face and your body would look wonderful draped in silks.”

“Now who’s lying, ladies?” Jackie replied, nervously.

“You. I thought that was what we were talking about, non?” Nicky asked Gigi.

Jackie went to take another drink and found her cup empty. She was already buzzed, the alcohol thrumming pleasantly under her skin. But she wouldn’t risk having to pass Jan to get back to the kitchen for another. She stood and sat the empty cup on the coffee table. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Air?” Gigi teased. “Looks like you’re thirsty to me, Miss Cox.”

Jackie shook her head and made for the front door. More people had arrived and she was bumped several times on her way outside. Finally, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her, leaning back against it and sucking in a large breath of cool spring air. She moved to sit in one of the several papasan chairs dotting the porch and removed the light hoodie she’d been wearing. The breeze felt wonderful on her heated neck and Jackie closed her eyes, inhaling. She sat for a few minutes like that, letting the breeze wash over her as the dull thud of bass thudded against the inner walls of the house. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that the fairy lights strung up along the porch had come on and smiled at the whimsical twinkling. She could leave right now, she’d Ubered here, so she could call another. She could put tonight and Nicky and Gigi’s words behind her, not having to worry about seeing Jan again until the fall production. But her legs felt tingly and the breeze was so nice. She could spare a few more moments before pulling out her phone. Her eyes slipped shut again, just as she heard the music quickly rise and fall in volume and the front door shut.

Jackie opened her eyes and was caught in the stare of another pair of brown eyes gazing back at her. Her throat closed and the breeze suddenly felt frigid on her exposed skin. Jan was standing there, staring back at her, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the faint music. “I thought you’d left.”

“No,” Jackie croaked. She swallowed and tried again. “No, just needed some air.”

Jan nodded and gestured at the chair next to her. “Mind if I sit? It’s boiling in there.”

“Sure,” Jackie replied. “It is pretty packed.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“It was nice of the Kappas to throw this for us. We worked hard on the show.” Jan commented as she sat down. The breeze carried the scent of her perfume to Jackie and she could smell lavender and cedar.

“You guys did all the work. Long nights rehearsing and all. And performing for all those people.” Jackie shrugged, shaking her head to rid her nose of the smell.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. We didn’t have hardly any mishaps with the sound this show and none at all on opening or closing night. I don’t know much about the sound aspect, but that couldn’t have been easy.” Jan smiled.

Jackie laughed, “It’s just a bunch of button pressing, really. Not hard at all.”

Jan shrugged, “You’d know better than I do, but I still think you did an amazing job. You always make sure everything works as best as you can.”

Jackie blinked, stunned. “There are plenty of techs who do what I do.”

“Yeah, but none of them ever get my mic set up right. You get it right every time. From day one. When we did Rent?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. I was so convinced I’d spend the entire run through majorly uncomfortable because the mic set up was wrong. I was pleasantly surprised when everything felt fine. I asked the production techs about you and requested you ever since.” Jan smiled, curling her long legs up into the chair.

“Wow, uh, thank you? Glad I could help?” Jackie laughed. Her blush was back in full force and she wished the fairy lights were red or pink so she could blame it on them. “You were amazing in Rent, by the way. Your Maureen was awesome. I’d hoped you would keep performing.”

Jan’s eyes lit up, “Thank you. I love theatre and singing, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

Jackie couldn’t think of anything else to say and the conversation tapered off. Jan was still looking at her though, fairy lights reflecting in her brown eyes. Nervous at the scrutiny, Jackie dipped her head, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Gentle hands moved her head back up and tilted her face towards Jan. The younger girl leaned forward and lightly pressed her lips to Jackie’s. They were only there for a second, but Jackie’s breath hitched at the light pressure. “Yeah, you did. Me.”

Jackie swallowed and reflexively swiped her tongue along her bottom lip. She could taste honey and hoped it was from Jan’s lip chap. “Uh. What. What was that for?”

Now Jan sported a blush and finally dropped her gaze. “I thought- It was stupid, I just thought that maybe you, uh, liked me? But I was wrong, I’m so sorry, I’m not usually so forward-”

Jackie cut her off by kissing her again. She felt Jan gasp, and her eyes slipped close as Jan’s lips began moving against her own. Jan did taste like honey and Jackie thought it was the sweetest thing she’d tasted all night. The kiss felt like it lasted forever and eventually Jackie was forced to pull away, inhaling large gulps of the cool night air. She could feel that her face was flushed and saw a matching one across Jan’s.

“You weren’t. Wrong that is. I’ve, uh, liked you since Rent. I just thought that you wouldn’t notice me, me being behind the scenes and all.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.” Jan replied, grinning wide. “Would you want to get coffee tomorrow? With me?”

Jackie grinned to match, “Yes. Yes, it’s a date?”

“Yeah, a date.” Jan moved closer to Jackie. “But I’d really like to keep kissing you now. You taste like coconut rum and it’s my favorite.”

Jackie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Jan’s once more. It looked like she’d have to thank Nicky for the stolen drink tomorrow. After her date.

[kinsbin]

Beach Days

Title: Beach Days Word Count: 2010 Pairing: Alexys/Katriona [si/oc]

Summary: Kat loved the beach, and Alexys loved Kat. Naturally, one has to learn to love the water when they’re dating a Selkie. Still, Alexys could feel doubt creeping in her mind, but Kat knows just how to get rid of it

A/N: Commission for @space-sweetheart of her and one of my fave ocs, Kat! These two are so cute and i’m so happy they have one another ;w;

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Alexys was never quite sure about going to the ocean.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like the ocean, oh no the opposite really! The ocean and the beaches around it were, in themselves, something of true beauty. Something that held her gaze into their fierce horizon lines and made her heart jump with awe at the way the light glimmered off of the reflective surface like the facade of a well cut sapphire. The sunsets, especially, were always so beautiful off the coasts around her. They painted the skies all shades of pinks and oranges before fading into deep, purple blue hues that looked like an oil on canvas rather than the atmosphere lighting up with the rotation of the land. For a long time, she considered the concept that the mythos of monstrous wolves chasing one another around the world, pursuing each other in the name of night and day, might be true. It would explain the deep unreality that was always felt at the start of a beautiful sunset.

It was those things she loved about the ocean.

What Alexys didn’t quite LIKE about the ocean was the heat. The temperatures that clawed on her skin against the windy summer day, biting like mosquitos in her veins. She didn’t like the way the sand meandered its way nosily into the grooves of her toes to the point in which her flip flops couldn’t even protect her. Instead they sunk down into the uneven earth, the gravity more akin to the surface of the moon as the light breeze blew bits of grainy earth that spat unflatteringly on her ankles. It was the discomforts that made the beach so hard to go to constantly. So hard to maintain a stready relationship with its pulling oceans and unknown depths of beauty.

Most of all she disliked wearing swimsuits.

Her body had never been ‘nice’ to her. Indeed it was more of a stubborn acceptance that it was simply the skin she inhabited. The mortal coil of her form that bound her to the physical plains of the earth around her that she was forced to stay in for at least seventy more years if she was lucky. That was what a body was to Alexys. No one ever said she had to like it, so she mostly did not. Everything felt too tall on her. Too lanky or too chubby in places models were not. Even the once piece bathing suit she was wearing, a brilliant shade of blue with freckles of white that looked like stars across her body, did little to sooth the worry of her body’s shape in her mind. The large hoodie she wore over most of the fabric protected her from both the wind and the prying eyes of no one as she looked around the empty space of beach.

Well, almost no one. A pair of green eyes that had lingered on her the entire walk from their shared Seattle apartment to the bayside they lived so close to. They shone like emeralds in the wake of the water as they followed at her side, pinky fingers gently entwined together in the loose form of hand holding that they managed as they walked casually across the shoreline. She remembered, then, why she even bothered to do this. Why she even ever considered coming to the beach more than once a year out of some sort of party and social obligation that would drag her from her home:

Because Katriona loved the ocean.

It was her instinct as a Selkie, Alexys supposed, that drew her endlessly to the water. She would be a fool to deny her girlfriend her nature, for it was what she had always fallen in love with. Kat’s excited smile, buck toothed and sharp, excited her whenever she stared on at the ocean as she was now. Her mess of long, curly brown hair covered her face in the perfect set of angles. It framed her like a cloud of copper. An angeled head of brilliant metal cascading down her sun kissed skin as she moved ahead of Alexys out of instinctual obligation. The seal skin she wore tight around her waist, like a sort of flowing skirt, fluttered eagerly behind her as she moved her legs to run towards the water. To touch the very surface that she had been born into all of her life. To become one with nature in a way Alexys could never truly understand.

Kat stopped as she got to the edge of the water, brushing some of her blowing hair back before turning around to face Alexys and, oh god, her heart stopped at the sight.

The sun sparkled so perfectly off of Kat’s body, her entire frame angled with a golden glow that emphasized the dimples in her cheeks as she smiled. Her eyes, burning emeralds amongst her body, shone with a type of love that Alexys could still scarcely believe was meant for her and her alone. Even the sharp, seal like quality of her ragged teeth only served to emphasize the feral beauty that surrounded the ethereal form of her girlfriend as she stood just before the water’s edge, the waves lapping lightly at her bare feet (she never wore shoes unless necessary. Alexys had watched her family try to put them on her only once for a formal event and even then it went poorly) as she shifted slightly to face Alexys fully.

Her hand fell out, fingers extending in a reach for her own as she tilted her head.

“Well, silly fish,” Kat teased in that sweet Scottish lilt that Alexys loved so much, “Are ya’ comin in with me or whut?”

Alexys couldn’t help but smile in return. She couldn’t help but hesitantly reach out to Kat’s hand for a moment, only to pull back and look down at her own body with a frown of thought. Kat looked gorgeous in her swimsuit of greens and greys. Not that it would last for very long, considering Kat would sooner swim naked than dare wear anything in the ocean, but the comparison was still striking. She felt so small in comparison to the presence of the other. So light in a way that half convinced her that maybe she should not have come.

Kat’s hand suddenly touched her cheek, startling Alexys out of her thoughtful reverie.

When she looked up, Kat’s face was close to hers. Her eyebrows were knit together in a gaze of soft care. Of endearment as she searched Alexys’ face for something that she wasn’t sure she would fine. Grey eyes watched green ones and Alexys bit a smile back at the fact that Kat was, literally, on the tips of her toes to reach as close as she was to her. Half of her wanted to stoop down to help the other each her better, but she knew it would just make Kat huffy. So she stayed still as she spoke, thumb rubbing circles on Alexys’ cheek as she sighed through her arched brow and patient smile.

“Oh, I know that look on you, m'eudail.” She hummed as her gaelic slipped lovingly from her tongue, “Now what part of ya do I have to kiss to make it go away~?”

The joke made Alexys snort, her smile spreading on her lips as she tried to breathe through her giggling to no avail. The laughter made Kat’s own echo of amusement chortle from her throat, her smile wide and bright as she giggled in return and pressed her forehead to Alexy’s shoulder, hiding her smiling face into the other’s flesh as they laughed in unison over the roar of the ocean.

It was these silly moments Alexys cherished. These moments that let her laugh and smile as she spent the day with the woman she loved the most. It made her forget about the insecurities that had plagued her not moments before. Katriona pushed those insecurities away like a gust of wind moving clouds. Like the sun’s bright rays burning into the earth and revealing itself to be sunny and beautiful against the once existing fog. That was, in essence, what she was. What she always would be to Alexys in one way or another.

Alexys gasped and shuddered when she felt Kat’s lips on her shoulder, a gentle kiss placed to the bare skin to inspire confidence before the shorter girl pulled away with a quirk of her lips and a blush on her tanned cheeks that made them look so much more full and pinchable that Alexys couldn’t help reach up and squeeze one of them. Kat crooned much like a seal would, surprise filling her tone as she blushed harder and reached out to bat playfully at the hand grabbing her face.

“Ya cheeky-!” Kat laughed as she walked forward, pulling at Alexy’s hand in process, leading her slowly towards the water again.

Alexys, confident now with their interaction, shed her sweater carefully until she was simply in her bathing suit. The water hit her feet, cold and icy in its wake, and goosebumps danced along her bare skin. They plunged deeper and deeper still, the feeling of the waves tickling her ankles and then her knees helping her to register just where they were in the water. Kat smiled as she continued to walk backwards, paying no mind to the water and waves behind her as she focused on her lover. Kat, after all, knew the water better than anyone Alexys had known.

Soon they were waist deep and Kat had let go, her instincts in the water overpowering her beyond the point of remembering to control her urges. With one last bright, toothy smile she dove into the water, submerging herself fully in the salty ocean waves that came crashing around them. Alexys gasped as she waited patiently for her lover to come up, giggling as the spray of the ocean surrounded her and bit into her skin like kisses from nature itself. She was aware how long Kat could hold her breath, much like a true seal was able to. When she had first disappeared for over 15 minutes, Alexys nearly had a panick attack thinking she had drowned. She had come up, though, as she always did.

Sure enough after a few more moments the surface was broken to reveal a blur of seal-skin and messy hair that tackled into her. The force of Kat’s entire being upon her in the water made her lose her footing, and Alexys took one last surprised gulp of air before being pushed into the water with her lover.

Beneath the ocean was surprisingly warm. The initial shock of the water had faded and now it was a clear, crystalline sort of experience. Dots of sunlight filtered through the water’s surface, decorating both girls in its speckled glory. Kat smiled under the water, her cheeks bright and her body easygoing. The way her hair floated around her made her look nearly ethereal. Alexys understood the myths of sirens now, so beautiful that they lured men to their deaths with just their looks and voices alone.

As Kat smiled, she smiled back.

Kat swam forward to take Alexys into her arms, their hands entwining as they held one another as a sort of crutch against the ocean waves. So that they might not float far away from one another. It didn’t matter much how far they were in the water, honestly. Kat would take them back to home as she always seemed to do. For once, Alexys felt no anxiety about being where she was. Being who she was. In that moment it was all she wanted to be.

Especially as Kat leaned forward, her lips finding the others in a careful deep sea kiss. Alexys couldn’t taste much above the salt of the ocean but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the girl in front of her who held her so close and so lovingly that she felt she might explode with care. Might fall apart with love.

In that moment, it was perfect.

[katsitting]

For that smut prompt, I suggest A 10, 12 and 14 (I’m really curious to see how you’re gonna write that bc a) your smut scenes are one of my absolute faves gosh, and I’ve been reading fanfics for like 10 years now ok b) idk if you’re comfortable with writing something “tamer” than the usual horror you know so~ I hope there’s gonna be some “light” too ;)) I seriously hope it’s not arrogant/demanding of me to suggest more than one prompt omg I’m sorry if that’s the case!! :x btw all with tomione!

Well, these aren’t long! I don’t have a ton of time on my hands and I should be practicing on being succinct with my words. So here you are :) I’ve filled all three. Hope you enjoy these, nonny!

A-10 Trying a New Position

Warnings: Bad BDSM etiquette. 

“Untie me this instant,” Hermione hissed with her cheek pressed into the bed.

When she’d agreed to try something new, to spice things up with Tom, this was not what she had in mind.

But how was she to know that he would-would bloody tie her up?

With a whispered curse she still could not interpret for the life of her, she’d found herself face first on the bed, her wrists bound to her ankles, her knees on the bed, and her arse hiked all the way up. He could probably see under her skirt like this, could see the frumpy knickers she’d picked out that morning and Merlin—

Hermione’s cheeks were so hot she thought they might catch fire.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

Hermione sputtered, something angry and feral wrenching in her stomach, perhaps a foul cuss word she’d overheard Ron use when he was incensed. The words never came, however.

For at that moment, Tom stepped up behind her, his hands trailing up the backs of her knees and thighs before pausing over her clothed bottom. Hermione squirmed, attempting to shut her legs, only to find that she could not. He had bloody spelled them open, locked them into place.

She was going to kill him.

“I’ve often wondered what you’d look like. You’ve not allowed me to take a look at you before tugging me into a darkened corner to—”

“Shut up,” Hermione interrupted, hands balling into helpless fists when his hands began to knead at her arse, nails digging into the skin hard enough to cut and bruise. “This is embarrassing. I’m not even—”

Hermione bit back the words before she said them.

Good Godric.

What was she thinking? I’m not even what?

“Hermione, it hardly matters what knickers you’re wearing. One way or another, they’ll be coming off.”

Hermione swallowed hard when Tom’s fingers teased at the waistband of her knickers, the touch making her skin prickle and heat up with sudden awareness. Hermione’s throat went dry.

“And there is nothing you can do about it. Though—” Tom’s voice rumbled over her, his tone taking on a curious and seductive lilt that made her insides itch. It was the same one he used when he wanted something, when he was curling his fingers beneath her skirt and making her heart stutter.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Warmth began to trickle down her thighs like a flood.

“—I think you like that, don’t you, Hermione?”  Tom asked, one of his hands sliding further into her knickers to squeeze the bare skin of her bum, kneading and rubbing the skin. “You like it when you’re powerless, when I surprise you.”

What?

Hermione laughed nervously, the sound shrill to her own ears.

“You’ve been hiding behind your regulation length skirts and darkened corners, but no, Hermione, not anymore—”

Hermione’s knickers vanished without warning. She let out a breath between clenched teeth, eyes shooting up to glance behind her.

She couldn’t. Look, that was. She didn’t know whether that was a blessing or a curse.

“Oh.”

Hermione tried not to squirm at the pleased note in his words, at the way his hands slipped over her bum and parted her further for his inspection. She bit into her cheek to stop from letting out a whimper, to bite back all the noises that wanted to escape her.

She’d never felt more exposed.

Her skin was on fire. The flesh between her legs, throbbing and oozing. She could feel it, each rivulet gathering in her folds.

Sweet Circ, please let him not—

“You’re so wet for me,” Tom purred, his hands tightening to the point of pain, till she was certain she would bruise, could trace each indent of his fingers pressed against her skin in the mirror for days on end.

“I-I-” Hermione started to say but stopped. She didn’t know what to say. She was—oh gods—she was mortified. Nothing she could say or do would hide the fact that she was aroused, that him tying her down and exposing her made her skin tighten with desire.

“T-Tom, just—”

“If only you could see what I see, Hermione. You look—”

Hermione gasped when he pressed against her back, something hot and bare and familiar lining along her wet folds.

When had he gotten undressed?

Hermione’s thoughts melted when a finger inched closer, pressed nearer to her folds but didn’t touch. She clenched, twitched and shifted, no longer trying to squirm away.

“Tell me to stop,” Tom said, a note of something mocking and taut in his voice. He was at the end of his tether. “Tell me you don’t want this.”

She didn’t say a word. It’d be a lie. She always wanted him, even when she shouldn’t, when there was something about him that made her brain itch and twitch with discomfort.

“Tom,” Hermione began to say before her words melted into a sharp cry when his hand slapped against her arse, hard and unyielding. She swore something foul, shifted and tried to move away, but his hold on her hip and the spell he’d used kept her permanently in place.

“You’re not listening.”

Hermione cried out when another blow landed on her skin, the thwack like a Bombarda had been cast in the room she’d dragged him into after lessons had ended for the day.

“Tell me you don’t want me to use you, right here and now. That you don’t want me to take you like the pretty little sacrifice you are.”

Hermione quivered, but the words, they refused to come. Not when he took that moment to smack her arse a third, fourth, and fifth time, his palm rubbing against the stinging skin each time.

The pain only made her insides tighter, her nails bit into her palms.

Please.

“Tell me.”

Tom thrust inside her with a growl, and Hermione keened. He stretched her, broke her open, and she relished in the sting, in the warmth of his hand settling over her hip pushing her closer, him deeper.

“Don’t stop,” Hermione groaned, voice cracking at the edges when he pulled back until only the head of his prick remained, and pushed back in.

Her toes curled, her mouth falling open with her cries when Tom did not stop. He pushed and pulled inside her, his hand falling away from her hip to slide down the bumps of her spine and curl over the back of her neck.

It was possessive.

A breathless laugh escaped her, unable to stop herself even when Tom’s hips shifted and he began to thrust violently into her g-spot. Writhing, her vision went white and black in spurts, a kaleidoscope of color manifesting before her eyes.

Her stomach quivered, going taut.

She could taste her climax on her tongue, dancing along her periphery.

Just a little—

Hermione cried out when Tom’s fingers suddenly dug into her neck, bit into the skin and raked them up her spine. The pain was excruciating, the burn, unlike anything she’d experienced before.

She loved it. This was what he gave her, what he did only for her. He was a beast, a monster. She lived for the moment his resolve crumbled into nothing.

—a little more.

She came to the bite of his nails, the violence in his thrusts pushing against her g-spot, and the sound of her name—broken and breathless—from his lips. It flooded her, this warmth. Consumed her.

He broke her only to remake her again, for his warmth to spread through her with his own release after crying out her name.

“Hermione.”

He stopped above her, the scent of his sheets and her sweat and their sex thick in the air. It oozed from between her legs, pores, and she sank into it. Purred and relished it, luxuriated in his attention, in the way he scooped her up the very second the spell ended and carried her away.

She had reservations about Tom. She did. Even after accepting the fact that they were, in fact, dating, she was still hesitant. Unsure.

But it was in these moments after he’d spent himself, had pleasured her into near collapse, that he was capable of love even if he liked to pretend that he was not.

He was hers.

Hers. Hers. Hers.

Even if he wanted to deny it. She owned him, mind body and soul.

“That’s a good boy.”

A-12 Phone/Video Sex

Warnings: Tom’s weird violent thoughts.

Tom watched her.

From the curve of her hip to the dimple of her cheek and to the scars dotting along her collarbone where she’d broken it when she’d fallen off her broom. Tom noted them, memorized her skin.

He didn’t know much about technology, having lived in the early 1950s until rather recently, but this—

This was perhaps the greatest blessing of being thrust into the future.

(Aside from the fact that he had time to become someone else, to begin again, to grab the world by its hair and force it to its knees).

“I’ve never—” Tom found himself saying, his throat going dry when Hermione undid the braid keeping her hair together. She was already naked, bare. Each line of her veins could be seen beneath the lightness of her wrists, and he wished he could touch them.

Taste her with my tongue.

He’d worship the skin, savor the beat, beat, beat of her pulse until she begged for his teeth to sink into that flesh and make blood bloom. Bleed her out until her lilac sheets and caramel skin was peppered with droplets of blood and purpling bruises.

“I know. Just watch.”

He did.

She moved further back, beyond the camera until the rest of her body was bared to him. From the gash between her thighs, slick and gleaming even in the shadowy expanse of her bedroom, to the dusky notes of her nipples and the scars marring the perfect skin at its center.

His mouth flooded with saliva, his tongue hot and heavy in his mouth, hungering to lav over her, into the gash in her thighs.

Her fingers rose, gliding from her breasts, trailing over a nipple and gliding lower still. Tom’s own hand itched. He didn’t move. He refused to. He refused to look away, for even a moment, to touch his hardened flesh. He was throbbing, oozing for her and she’d done nothing yet.

He would have found it pathetic if he weren’t so consumed. Obsessed.

“Hermione—”

“Shh, just watch,” Hermione said between clenched teeth as her hand fell to the apex of her thighs, parting the fat lips to bare more of herself to his gaze. He devoured it, entranced by the pearly sheen and the way her thighs quivered when her middle finger circled around a pink bud above the opening.

“T-this is how I want you to—”Hermione’s words melted into a moan, fingers gliding faster, the wet squelch of her juices like orchestral notes to his own ears. He couldn’t look away, could only watch, his own stiff cock begging to be touched.

He wanted more.

“Put them inside you,” Tom groaned, unsure of where the words had come. He didn’t regret them, would never reel them back. His hand found his own flesh, curling over the head to stroke himself, to find the rhythm of her own fingers and imagine that it was those same hands touching him.

His finger curled over the head, and he closed his eyes, imagining from behind his eyelids that she was there, here.

“Tom, p-please.”

His eyes fell open. His breath halted.

Two fingers were inside her, thrusting and pushing. Tom swore something beneath his breath, his own hand stroking faster, gliding and tracing over his shaft. He’d never bothered before, to touch himself, to waste his time on chasing after physical pleasure but—

He learned his body within short moments, knew what he liked, squeezed and pushed into his hand to the image of Hermione’s fingers curling inside her, her face sweaty and flushed. Tom licked his lips.

“What is it that you want? What do you want me to do?” He said between clenched teeth, voice breaking. His stomach was tight, but he imagined that she would be so much tighter. Perfect.

“Do you want me inside you? Touching you? That is my fingers leading you?”

At Hermione’s responding moan, at the way her hands grew more frantic, Tom almost came undone. She was beautiful. A vision.

He wanted to eat her. To possess her until this moment was forever burned into his memory. Until he could feel her writhing inside him. Begging and twisting for more, more, more.

“You would be so wonderful, Hermione. You’d be so warm and soft, your insides tight around me. Your voice sweet as I took you.” His breath hitched, desperate, imagining that it was, indeed, her stroking him. That she was there, that he was buried inside her and listening to her cries as he ripped them out of her impertinent little mouth.

He was going mad. Fraying at the seams.

Was this what it was to yearn?

“Yes. Yes.” Hermione cried out, her body quivering and trembling. There was a roll to her hips, a moment where her eyes and mouth went wide, as if unseeing, and then—

He tumbled over the edge, the wet squelch of her fingers in his ears and the pink of her cunt in his mind. The image in front of his computer blurred–or was that his eyes? He couldn’t be sure, couldn’t be certain of anything at all–before he blinked it away.

The image of Hermione sharpened, the divets of her hips and the lashes framing her eyes so clear that he itched to sink into the screen, to touch her and feel her.

He curled his hand into a fist instead, watched her eyelids twitch and her rising chest slow. As if she’d fallen asleep.

Tom watched her.

For now.

He’d do more than watch next time.

A-14 Face Sitting

Warnings: A bit of pain play, power imbalance, and disturbing thoughts.

Hermione’s thighs clenched around Riddle’s head, his breath hot and wet against her cunt.

“This was not what I had in mind when I suggested we try something new,” Riddle murmured into the curve of her thigh, his arms bound to the headboard.

He could get out at any time if he wished it, she knew. But he wouldn’t.

That was the most arousing thing of all.

He hated to be without control, but for her, he’d do what she asked. He had a mask to maintain, after all. He still thought she didn’t know just how terrible he was, that he was nothing more than a monster in the guise of a human boy.

Hermione repressed a smile when his eyes fell to the flushed skin between her thighs, devouring it with a voracious hunger he could not hide, to slowly trail up her stomach, drink in the sight of her naked breasts, and stop on her face.

A laugh rumbled from her chest that she could not contain.

“But I find I have no compunctions with what you’ve planned for us this evening.”

Tom’s breath hitched when she inched closer, her thighs squeezing his head until her own thighs quivered, until they ached. She hoped he ached too. She wanted him to hurt. For him to weep and beg for the pleasure of worshiping her.

The flash of something—irritation, arousal, disdain? Hermione couldn’t be sure—that flickered in his eyes only made the monster writhing in her chest purr, the same vengeful creature that swore she’d make him pay, plan with excruciating detail how she’d make Tom Riddle fall.

Lord Voldemort did not worship, but here, now—

Tom Riddle would.

“Whether you have reservations hardly matters,” She said as she pressed closer, forcing her hips against his mouth before he could reply, savoring in the wet press of his lips along her folds. “You’re bound and without a wand.”

The flat of Tom’s tongue wedged between her slit and Hermione shuddered, her insides curling with warmth.

Yes.

“I could kill you, right now, and you wouldn’t be able to do anything about it,” Hermione murmured as she inched closer to sit atop his face, pushing her cunt into his mouth until he could do nothing but suck and lap at her, swallow down her wetness and drown.

She wanted him to choke. She squeezed his head harder to make sure he couldn’t escape this. Not that he’d try. The heat in his eyes told her he had no such thoughts.

Good.

“I can steal your breaths. Suffocate you between my thighs, and you’d allow it. You’d let me.”

Hermione moaned when his tongue circled and pushed into her clit, mimicking the motions she herself used to touch herself, with practiced ease. It should have disturbed her how good he was at this despite never having been with someone before, but—

Tom Riddle was a quick learner, she found.

Of course.

He nipped her clit, and she rolled her hips, a cry tumbling from her mouth. It had hurt, but the wet press of his tongue curling over the bud soothed the ache. Righted the wrong. Her hand carded through his hair and shoved him closer, relishing in the strands of hair that tore away from his scalp and the moan that escaped him.

Lord Voldemort hungered for power, but she’d make Tom Riddle crave pain.

She shoved her hips against him with more gusto, fury and delight and something else that she refused to acknowledge itching beneath her skin. He kissed and devoured her, sucking into her clit and flicking his tongue over the bud in time to her jerks.

Yes.

Her skin tightened, her toes curling with each smooth pass of his tongue and flash of something—violence, revenge, revenge, hunger, revenge—in his eyes before they closed and he swallowed her down.

Laughter left her, made the tell-tale twist of her innards as her orgasm grew closer, more tantalizing. The point of this wasn’t her own pleasure. It had never been. But she’d take it. She’d take everything that Tom Riddle offered.

If only to throw it back in his face, to show him that she was the one in control and that he—

—was nothing.

His teeth sank into a fat lip, and she keened, her nails digging into his scalp and her other hand curling over her wand to level it on his throat, to press it against his pulse point. His eyes slowly opened, flickering to her hand before returning to hers. Something feral, violent overtook her then.

Watch your teeth.

She said it with her eyes, but she knew he would understand, could read between the lines of her wand in his neck and the violence curling her lips.

And even if he couldn’t, he was a mind reader. He knew Legilimancy. She’d checked. Dotted her ‘I’s and crossed her ‘t’s. He was still a budding dark lord, but she, she was a war veteran.

His mouth gentled against her, obeying her. Riddle’s eyes promised murder, but his mouth was nothing but sweetness.

She hoped he tried. That he did try to kill her, that he pressed his wand to her neck and showed her just how much of a monster he was. If he did, then she wouldn’t hesitate.

Then she wouldn’t—

Hermione silenced the thought.

Here and now, she was the one in control. There was no room for hesitation, for second-thoughts and regrets. She would see this through. This was her moment, and oh—

At the brush of his mouth and the dark promise in his eyes, Hermione bloomed.

[punkscowardschampions]

Jimmy & Janis

Poor Pablo

Jimmy: You here? Janis: standing to attention, like Janis: what's up? Jimmy: Can I stay at yours tonight like? Janis: 'Course, my Dad already extended the offer when he was trying to parent me lol Janis: Yours doing your head in? Jimmy: Seriously though? I'll sleep in the bath and try not to have Skerries flashbacks. Give a shit Jimmy: Yeah Janis: You don't have to Janis: though I've been told its comfier than you'd imagine if you're feeling it Janis: What's his damage...not ideal they had to call the parentals in but it is just detention, not a court date, y'know? Janis: I'd have figured out a way to take all the blame if I knew he'd go off Janis: Wank bank fantasy getting outta hand in the stalls? 🤔😉 Jimmy: It's an excuse for him to get at me, that's it Jimmy: Doesn't really matter what the drama is Jimmy: 😍 Proper romantic you 💕 Janis: Yeah Janis: Suppose it'd make a nice change to have you as the bad guy for once, eh? Janis: fuck that though Janis: Who me? Janis: never Jimmy: What d'you mean 😎👎💔 Jimmy: I'm so bad Janis: Very bad boy, NOT bad guy, waaaaaay different vibe Janis: Silly Jimmy: Good save Janis: Not a goalie or a superhero Janis: but Janis: 💪 Jimmy: 🏆 Jimmy: What time can I come over? Freezing here casually Janis: Come over now idiot Janis: Be doing me a favour anyway, be your charming self so I can escape the fam Jimmy: Done Jimmy: Want me to bring you anything? I'm thinking chips but no pressure Janis: Quite the offer Janis: but no need Janis: there's always so much food going in this gaff Janis: may as well help yourself Jimmy: Yeah? Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: I'm just gonna get Cass to bring me some stuff out #doorstepdrama Jimmy: Like fuck am I gonna come back here any earlier than needs Janis: That's fun 😒 free entertainment for the neighbours, nice one 👍 Janis: at least Cass'll get a kick out of helping the outcast hero Janis: Best to let him have his paddy, yeah, he'll be begging you back when he can't figure out where the kid's school shoes are Jimmy: I wouldn't bother but I need my charger in case Bobby can't sleep. Cass shouldn't have to handle that on her own Jimmy: She's be the definition of #buzzing for this part at least Jimmy: Maybe Twix'll shit in his shoes this time, 'cause bitch be loyal Janis: Shame you can't bring them both but kidnap would technically be something to shout about Janis: They'll be alright though, she's a tough cookie and a smart kid Janis: Get Grace to facetime him a bedtime story, he'd love that and she'd feel like she's doing jackanory, like Janis: We can only hope girl comes thru Jimmy: He'll take her up on that if I don't. Boy is 💕 for Gracie Jimmy: You're not about to get off light though, Cass wants to hear from you that I'm alright Jimmy: My word isn't worth a damn apparently Janis: She ain't offering for you! Even if you're currently in her good books for taking a 🔥 photo, like Janis: Still not good enough to be her fave 🤷 Janis: Tough ground Janis: Well, she's got you there, you're not the best at using 'em 😏 100% taking the fact I'm being considered the reliable one for once Jimmy: You win this round Jimmy: Don't get too comfy with it though Jimmy: I am on my way Janis: S'lonely at the top Janis: Get on my level, boy 🥇 Jimmy: 🎻 Janis: rude Janis: biting the hand that feeds Jimmy: Learning from your true love like Janis: I won't stand such slander on her good name Janis: she's a revenge shitter only not a biter 😂 Jimmy: 😂 Jimmy: I'm having a smoke, you joining me or am I coming knocking? Janis: Lungs won't thank me but Pablo would if he knew how close he was to getting a smackdown Janis: Save me some I'm running Jimmy: *He took it easy on this one (not for her sake, you snooze you lose, mate) having been puffing away consistently since he slammed the door on his dad's ranting 'cause he'd needed to calm down. Or shut down. Naturally, it crept up on him, as persistent, which is why he's here, huddled in another cold doorway, waiting for a distraction that'll have him forgetting the barney his dad started days before and wasn't done with yet. Argumentative prick. Jimmy was happy to let Janis have that win, the only where he wouldn't (and couldn't) compete being in this, in drowning out the shit with something that isn't. There's no hiding the smile when he sees her, if the shadows do let him get away with it, they won't for long 'cause he's closing the gap between them instantly, refusing as much of the space as he can without giving himself away for doing it as he passes the cigarette over.* Janis: *She takes the cigarette like its second-nature, kiss on his cheek, feeling the familiar dimple of his smile, like they are too. Far from it on both counts. She's not a smoker, she needs her lungs clear and strong. And she's not in love, same reasons for her heart. Simple as. Still, she could enjoy the benefits of both without committing, couldn't she? Why not. It's not like she's faking either, just...dipping her toes. Only likely to incur minor damage, she reckoned she could take that and still get away laughing. Sure. Long drag before passing it back because without needing to even look his way, (though she did regardless, studious expression taking in his tight, stressed as shit, posture right now), she knew he needed it more. Janis jogs her legs up and down, 'brring' in the cold Winter night air.* You alright then? *She adds, as if they're just meeting on her doorstep by chance, not for reason. She smirks, shaking her head at herself, nudging his side.* Jimmy: *With the cigarette back between his fingers and the girl by his side he gets what he needs, the familiarity a reminder that this is his normal, not what he rushed to leave behind. To pick up his girlfriend for dinner his dad will have to drop this, rely on moody silence to show how he really feels and his own fakery, in this woman's company, for what he thinks he should. They all know how to handle the first, years under their belts, and the second idea's even more temporary. Fuck it. Jimmy could make a single cigarette last longer than his dad's current relationships, and had done, sometimes. Not this one though. Nah. He wasn't the dickhead to keep his girlfriend shivering while he pissed about blowing smoke in the dark. He took a final drag before flicking it away to meet Janis's contact with his own, using his now free hand to gently brush a loose curl from her cheek.* Yeah, mate, you? Janis: *Janis scrunches her nose up, batting his hand away, mix of bashfulness and banter, blown with a raspberry. Turns out, sex is alright, stunning review there, indescribably better than alright obviously but- its the smaller, everyday moments of intimacy, that had flown under her radar when she wasn't receiving them, that she still finds herself flinching from, or covering up said flinch with some kind of bullshit she finds it easier to wear, to shoulder.* Fine. *She blurts out, flustered and being a little sharp with it. Get it together. More jokes, forever skirting around serious, not getting too real or too deep 'cos they both know there's no coming back and why ruin it and- She peers at him, like he's a dog in Crufts, pretending to shine a torn in his eyes, checking his teeth, that kinda shit.* Hmm, healthy enough specimen. Gonna give me anything else to give to your Sister though, like? Dunna if 'yeah' is gonna get her off the phone in a hurry, to be honest. Not that I give a shit, or nothin', don't get it twisted. *She grins, turning to the door and then back again, lingering, reluctant to open the door yet, knowing they'd get descended upon by someone almost immediately. All fun and games. Still, there wasn't a world in which she was gonna turn him down and have him out on the street, like. No way.* Jimmy: *He plays along as though it's still a game and why not? He's just admitted to himself how used to fakery he is, being a family trait like, with both of them for him to thank. Not that he's sparing a thought for his mum, first or second. Not now. He told himself no more slips with the girl beside him and meant that just as much. More. It's easier to stick to on every level, and he does, ruffling her hair fully when he gets the chance. Eyebrows raised and an expression of his own ready to wear. This, he can keep up all night, same as the exaggerated huff that he let's escape, like a Twix snore, into the night along with the shrug that follows.* Use your skills, throw in as many hashtags as it takes to put her at ease. Throw in a selfie if she still isn't convinced. Me sleeping sound should do it. * He's joking but not wrong for it, not able to remember a time when he fell asleep before the other two. Cass'd be beyond 'shook' to even see a fake out of him getting a good forty winks. Jimmy smirks through the thought, forcing it to pass.* You got this, girl* He retorts it in the best mimicry of how Mia and that crowd speaks that his accent can do, wincing slightly both at the impression and idea of them being around. Still, he claws some of his 'clout' back with a challenging look that adds 'What else have you got.' 'cause who are they if there's not a challenge ongoing. As if to emphasis this, he goes towards the door himself, pushing it open with more daring than he actually feels. * Gonna invite me in then, or what? Janis: *She kisses her teeth angrily, full on 'boy, if you don't stop-' vibes, planting a balled fist in his stomach, gentle warning like, no need to assault him before the family saw to it with their over-the-top nature and curiosity. She knew it would but it was getting to her more than she imagined even. The cooing and awwing or the piss-taking and wink-wink nudge-nude of it all, whatever approach they took, why did they have to? What business was it of theirs? Of anyones? Why did there always have to be a song and dance about everything? The hot takes she'd never ask for. Ruined everything. Why did they care? About this? About her? Just fuck right off. Messy. Too messy. Family, feelings- fuck it all. She used to kid herself, couple of years ago, when it happened, that she'd move out as soon as she could and that'd be it. They'd leave her alone. And she could just exist. Run, sleep and repeat. And that is all she'd have to do. No thinking or feeling ever. But she knew better now. They weren't just going to disappear, even if she changed postcodes. Even Edie couldn't manage that. And she had really tried. The others didn't want to. So she was stuck. Here in the land of the living. Forced to participate, like it or not. Then Jim had come along. Made her like it, a little bit, like. And he'd made her think maybe she could add to her shortlist of approved activities. But let her think about that for too long and she always came to the same conclusion; that she was a fucking idiot and it'd all end in tears. She sighed, overexaggerating it last minute to pretend it was in reply to his showy huffing and puffing.* Not my skill-set, kid. You were always better at it than me. Not just the snappin', like. Right up until you jumped ship for a pretty face, #commitment. *She laughs.* But for Cass, I'll see what I can do. *Cringing at the accent-attempt and gasping in mock-horror at the invocation of Mia and co. (as if say their names three times and they'll appear to tell you your outfit is ugly) she puts a finger to his lips, pushing him behind her at the same time so she can lead the way in too.* Ta-dah! *She flourishes, with a shrug to say 'you asked for this' 'cos there was no hiding now. The downstairs open-plan, parentals unconvincingly 'busying' themselves in the kitchen. Iggy, Diego, Gus and (thank fuck, 'cos we know who's the likeliest to be a prick here) Pablo so far unaccounted for, Grace watching telly, curled up with her phone as per. Janis was ready to bolt up to her room, not so much as a hello but reckoned Jimmy wouldn't want the rep of being her 'rude boyfriend' (as concerned as he was with opinion clearly, bless) so she shouts out 'Jim's here', eyes on the stairs, giving them five seconds to respond before she was up 'em, like.* Jimmy: *The house makes him feel the same as it did the first time he was here once he's through the door again, thankfully though the urge to whistle is muted today, full of sobriety as he is, in every sense. He knew her family weren't renters in over their heads like his from day 1, it isn't just that like. He isn't just some reverse snob, it's everything here they haven't had to buy, and he couldn't if he had armfuls of cash. The 'vibe' he'd probably call it if he was Grace or her crowd. Still, he nods at everyone about as if it's common place for him to him to be greeted by a warmth that's nowt to do with temperature.* Evening. *He's got his smile back on but Jimmy's hand is scratching the back of his neck before he can stop it giving him away and all he can do is 'reckon' on Janis being too caught up on her own family dynamics to call him out for his lack of. That's the real #goals, isn't it? He thinks to himself, trying to shake these feelings off him without moving. Or sighing. You massive dickhead. Grace waves at him without looking up from her phone screen, a slice of his home life #relatable enough he can follow her sister's gaze with a decent smirk and a readiness to deal with what's gonna come down. Need's must had him here in the first place, alright, but now he's made it as far as asking to be let in, he'd like to stay. Not only be a grumpy twat Janis is stuck with, but a laugh she wants to stay about. In her gaff and out of it. When nobody immediately appears he heads up himself, not forgetting her insistence to lead the way before, he looks over his shoulder at her, obvious with it that's there's nowt for her to do now but keep up.*  Unlucky, mate. You're not getting off that easy, we've got a whole night ahead. Janis: *Janis is holding herself rigid, eyes fixed as tight and strong on her parents letting them know in no uncertain terms to behave...and they did? Leaving it at cheery hellos and promises of dinner being done in about half an hour if they fancied it. Hm. First time for everything. Letting disbelief at their ability to be normal for once in their friggin' lives (where had this been all the other times she'd begged them/the universe for it?!) carry her up the stairs behind Jim. She let him flounder in the burrow-like corridors of upstairs, so different to the openness of the downstairs, that'll teach you to go ahead, boy, she thought with a smirk, now pushing in front with arms wide open.* Pick a door, any door! *She laughed, heading to her own before he actually did, not knowing who was in.* Welcome to my humble-abode... *She added, as they were over the threshold, kicking her gym bag, over-spilling with laundry, aside. She sat down on her unmade bed to assess, from outsiders, from his, eyes. Not here enough anymore that it was critically messy, that was good; old posters covering up old holes in the plaster from older anger, nothing cringe, thankfully but- It was a bit sad, to be honest...bare, lacking...anything, personality, life. She sighed. Red-faced from embarrassment and redder still from anger at feeling that embarrassment. She didn't care about herself, yeah. And what? And what is that her room said as much in no uncertain terms and having him see it was just- well. Shaming. Time for a joke.* If this setting don't get you in the mood, I don't know what will. Jimmy: *10 kids, he reminds himself, when he reaches the top and is met with an upstairs that belongs to a different house. That disconnect continues, growing, when Janis opens one of the doors in the maze. Hers. He's got no room to judge, none of his house looks lived in yet, as if Cass can protest having to by refusing to help unpack, knowing he doesn't have (or want to make, 'cause there's enough stuff in there for it to be boring, but then there's what's missing too, which is worse. Depressing.) the time to tackle the unopened box on his own after months. He isn't. Judging, that is. But he can't stop himself looking about, eyes focusing again on what there is, and isn't. What it means. And doesn't. Fuck. What a pair, they are like. Jimmy has to say something, silence will have her thinking all kinds of shit that isn't right. Least of all that he's a twat. Which, sort of is. He's equipped to be that though, which is something. He can easily grin at her, fall into simple, old habits. Banter by numbers that'll be #nodrama for her to throw back at him. 'Cause whatever his dad might think right now, he's not the dickhead trying to make everything harder. Why would he? The day to day shit already has that covered. So he aims his biggest 'heart eyes' at her, from the earliest days of their fakery, hiding any real expression in the over-the-topness of it all, for her as much as him (he tells himself, without needing much convincing with the blush spotted. It isn't thanks his charms, they both know. But in a second they can pretend it's his cringe factor.)* Only got eyes for you, babe. We could be anywhere. *Still, even as he's mocking himself with mimicking throwing up in his mouth, before she can, naturally, passed that, somewhere real he's deciding that should she suggest getting out of here to elsewhere tonight he's not about to fight it. Wherever they end up. #nocringe. It'd be too much of a lie to act like asking to come here was too much and everything that's come after, as a result, is too. He shouldn't have done it and there's no wonder everything's been off since. Her room could be the same as downstairs and he wouldn't wanna stay there, would he? It's his 'vibe' fucking things. Cheers dad. Jimmy sighs, throwing himself on the bed, and turning it into the appreciative whistle he didn't do at the door. Fucking hell.* Janis: *The eye-roll comes so hard it has her reeling, spinning out in her own head. At least, its better for them both if she pretends that's what's got her feeling dazed and disorientated. Sick with not knowing how to play this. No 'oh my, a boy in my room!' giddiness, fuck that shit. It was 'oh my, having to spend time in this depressing pit'. And his hand forced to spend his time here too. It'd be different if he had wanted to. Maybe. Okay, probably not. But if he had wanted to then they really wouldn't care where they were, paying no mind to anything but each other, not like his car was a lambo or like she'd given two fucks then, so it might've been tolerable. Ignorable, at the very least. But he HAD to be here. Nowhere else to go. That paired with how this room inadvertently showed all her cards had her feeling as bare as their surroundings, #exposed as they would say for the craic. Not that she was mad at him for not begging to sleepover just 'cos he wanted her so bad, again, fuck that shit hard. Not that girl. Everything was just weird and off and it didn't lend itself to a good night's sleep for either of 'em, she was willing to bet. She shrugged, those muscles so overworked, never skipped, massaging at the tension there in vain. Bounced from the dramatic way he flung himself down, she rests herself down on her elbow beside him, face to face.* If you want, we can go to the Barn. Its kitted out, like- *She pauses, thinking back on the times when it had been a place they all made Diego's films together, the times it had been Edie and Rio's bedroom, sneaking in there with them, leaving Grace alone in the dark of their old shared room. Now, well- She spent even less time in there than she did here. Only venturing when it was so dark and she felt so alone, it just felt right to hide out in there; harking back to all those many nights she'd sneak out, praying Edie would be there again, and to the one night, she was. Tucked up in her bed as if she'd never left. As if she wasn't really there. But she was. She was. And she'd gestured for her to get in with her and they'd just held each other...Janis holding on for dear life, determined to NEVER let go, so she couldn't leave again. She thought she felt the same desperation, in the way her big sister clutch to her too, almost hurting her but she would have never of complained. Determined to keep her in sight, eyes wide open and staring into hers, barely visible in the dark but there. She was there. Of course, she had fell asleep, and of course, when she awoke, the sun was up and Edie was gone. She was just a fucking kid, like. 'A fucking failure is what you were. And are.' She shook her head. At least the barn HAD memories, more than you could say of the box room she'd relegated herself too. No longer able, or needing to share with anyone. Not Grace. Or Rio and Edie. They'd all gone. Empty rooms to fill.* All mod cons and a comfy bed, like. But you can keep that between us and add to your sob story, yeah? *She mimics the tiny violin he was always sending, #IRLShade like, hoping the piss-taking would distract from the disjointed nature she'd made that offer in. Ghosts refusing to let her go, let her be with him fully. She never could be. It was the sad kind of hurt when you just know, know that whatever you're doing, or want to do, won't work. And knowing this and knowing you're gonna hurt the other person, so far so clueless. Oh, Jim. Why do you think I was on my own when you met me, boy?* Jimmy: *He's fucked it instantly, looking at her too hard, all the bollocks stripped back and away by how close she is, suddenly, though he should have expected it. Not like her bed's big enough for anything much else, but he never does, somehow. Still. Ever. Breathing hurts but he forces himself not to keep it shallow, refusing to swap places so soon when she was meant to be the one swooning. Fake or not. And there's so much real shit he wants to say, but can't. Again, too much. It leaves him only inhaling and sighing, brooding like the kinda poser he isn't trying to be on any day. Least of all this one. Does it matter though? It doesn't feel like it when his hand drops before it can reach out, touch her in any way, jokes as out of bounds as anything. He isn't meant to be lost with her, but tonight doesn't give a fuck about that, does it? He jumps on the offer a change, nodding, frantic for a kick that'd have him behaving like less of a dick. Please. The fucking break he hasn't asked her for is there, inching closer to letting itself be said, and he's scared of that, going there like.* Alright. *He wants to give himself a smack for how quiet he sounds. Serious. Okay knobhead, calm it. Good luck following that through when you know you've got none though, Jim. He's up and taking her hand before he can dwell on it, moving to take the lead as far as retracing their steps and being out. He can handle that geography. Jimmy does allow himself a pause small enough only to draw a cross over his heart playfully once she's played the violin for him. Thanks, mate. It's almost spoken aloud 'cause of the relief the familiarity of it , brought here and now, comforts him. Alright, calm it again, tosser. But yeah, that works, letting him. He walks stretching their linked hands as far as possible while staying connected, laughing genuinely, still soft but out there. He draws a quick tick over the same space, hurriedly.* Done. Janis: Alright. *She confirms with a nod as serious as his close-to-silence was. Couldn't accuse him of being a man of too MANY words usually, like, but still, spoke volumes, didn't it? Could write friggin' volumes on how badly she was fucking it up with him now. That's what you did after break-ups, right? Write wanky (in all the ways) poetry. Fuck that. Get the fuck out of your own head, fucking eejit! Now! He's still here yet. She seized the conversation by the balls, 'fore it got away from her grasp again, immediately adding-* Alright, alright, alright! *Matthew McConaughey style. 'Cos Christ, someone had to cut through the tension and she weren't about to invite the fam up to give it a go. Fuck that, too. Even if it was awkward as arse, to say the least, and the dead and buried past was unearthing itself just to try drag her under tonight- she still wanted it to be just them. Him and her, fuck the rest. And that was something. Even if that was all she could get, all she still had. She'd cling to that with bleeding, broken nails, jaw clamped, teeth sunk deep in the flesh of it. It was something. She was so fucking used to, so fucking sick of, nothing. A promise, or a prayer, she repeated it over and over, 'til she near believed it herself. With this in mind, she pulls on the hand that is leading her, pulls him back, understanding his rush and only wanting to slow it for one thing. She mimics shooting him where he had been tracing, where she wants to trail her own fingers badly, as he draws in, she puts her fist over his heart, thumping up and down, up and down, before exploding out- And with that, she kisses him, as desperate as he was to take up her offer and run, she needed this more. And she had never known anything she needed more than to run. But she did. She did.* Done. *She mirrors, drawing her lips away from his, with a smirk. Ahead again, one foot on the top step.* Jimmy: *He's about to descend back into mockery, the words 'all about the obscure refs, you' there, ready to go if he's willing to release them, thoughts already going backward, onto the typed convo where she tried to give him an artsy education, school him about muses, all of that, but before he can take the step she's pulling him, literally to where she's forced a stop. In the first second he's tense, thinking it's a full one, that she's done with him and the company he isn't being tonight, but before he can fall further into his pit (he's in there enough, prior that she's tried to dig at him with her best McConaughey, for fuck's sake) he all but floats out. There's no # that could cover this in his stunted imagination, he thinks, before his brain shuts off. The kiss is more than the break he didn't have the balls to ask for (though it lasts about as long as the one he'd gave her, standing on some twat's marble floor). It's a separation from all the shit that's been running him ragged for days, forcing him to run here in the first place. Jimmy knows then that he'll stay, has to, not 'cause there's nowhere else to go, but 'cause nowhere else exists when she kisses him like that. Fuck. It basically escapes, not as the word, but in sound that he can't escape either. Doesn't want to. The only thing he cares about is keeping this close to her and knowing she's alright with him being there. More than fucking alright like.* Nah mate *He retorts breathlessly, clawing back some strength back only as his hands find her hips and use the grip he's found there to spin her body round to face him. He isn't done yet, there's no chance. Not now she's given him one to erase the last few days and land him back into decent ones with her. Jimmy's an echo of how he was after running from Mr Lucas and he's not letting go of that. What for? 'Cause his dad wants him to. Fuck that and fuck him. What was he done with was feeling like shit. So of course he kissed her again, sinking only into the depths of that, trying to say everything with it that he couldn't verbally. Needing to have a go even though it meant hearing Janis' clatter into the beginnings of the banister with the force of everything he was desperate for her to know, 'cause if he pulled back then that'd be it and he's not having that. Fuck no. He's lost enough, tonight's bed being the least of it. Janis: *If she was going to complain, (she wasn't), he doesn't give her the time, or space, to do so. Exactly what they both needed; and she didn't need to reckon that. Crashing together, crashing into the wall, like. No room for anything to come between 'em, not their thoughts or past or any of that bullshit; all blurring into background nothingness, where it belonged. In these moments, there was nothing but them and their need. And it was good. Really good. The kind of good she didn't need to second-guess or overthink. Just be in it and soak in every second, every touch, the heat and feel of his skin against hers, alive, human, real. The violence of the urgency, the competitive one-upping- Not only keeping it interesting (to say the fucking least) but keeping it as something she could understand, something that didn't scare the living shit out of her, frankly. Easy as breathing, this; Though both theirs was heavy now, laboured from the control of letting some of said go, whilst not losing themselves to it so wholly that they alerted someone to it, spoiling their fun for the second time in a week. A game of meeting every kiss of his with more, and then some. Biting, tugging at his bottom lip in, trying in vain to make the kiss even deeper. Nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him down with her as her back slid down the wall, him sat at the top of the stairs, her on his lap. 'How did you stop yourself though?' A faint voice in the back of her mind pondered, with no intention to found within her. Clearly, they needed the Mr. Lucas' of the world or they'd never get anything else done. Clearly channeling the man himself, Pablo chose this time to appear out of his room, quite literally stumbling onto the scene, and them, Janis sticking out an arm (and jumping off Jim's lap) with lightning reflexes so he didn't topple down the fucking stairs.* Oops, watch it... *She didn't have time (nor desire) to be embarrassed. Her older Brother's mumbly, half-asleep grumbles of 'a-fucking-gain? Really Janis?!' and promises to 'have words with you, later!' to Jim, had her creasing. When Pablo was out of sight, and out of mind as soon as, she rested her head on the shoulder she'd left nailmarks in, kissing it gently though she wasn't particularly sorry about it.* Jimmy: *It isn't until she has to save him from hitting the bottom of the stairs with a thud that he even sorts out in his head again where they are, beyond the abstract bollocks of 'together' and all that. It takes that much to get through to him, but he isn't sorry, 'cause he isn't alone in it. If he's falling, figuratively as well as the near literal, then she is too. And that's alright by him. More than fucking alright, as per like. Jimmy can laugh through this interruption, at what it takes to pull them apart now (unlucky Mr Lucas but you probably won't cut it next time) adding to it himself with the breathless whisper of 'fucking hell, mate' that finds only her ear as he shakes his head affectionately at the pair of 'em. Janis' brother's appearance (along with anything he might have said) forgotten as soon as it's happened, same as before. If they'd been any room for it he might have felt bad for the lad, keeping mugging him off like that, but he still wants what he wants. Needs, honestly. There's no forgetting, or ignoring that any 'itch' has only been scratched so far as to make it more 'itchier', more noticeable in the first place. It's a crap analogy but it's what's there as he pulls her down the stairs and back towards the door, rougher and noisier that he would if he could make a string of thoughts or words fit together properly to promise her that this still isn't done. Jimmy 'reckons' in a semi coherent idea that he'll barricade the barn door with any or all manner of shit, once they are there,  to guarantee no more interruptions tonight. Bet on that, mate, his expression says, as they go. Jinx. Fuck. He almost kicks the door in frustration upon hearing the shout for dinner, her dad's head catching them as 'ready' for it. Pfft. No chance. It smells good, yeah, but there's no contest. Janis feels, looks and smells incredible like. Meals can wait, they always did at his, even when he had his mum there to do his job of moving a tray of something from freezer to cooker, or his pop's of fetching a takeaway when in from work, there was no sitting down at a this or that time. No table to eat at either, just the sofa, or his bed when he was being the type of utter dickhead that only a certain age manages, whenever it was put in front of him. Here at Janis, that time, was right now. And worse, ('cause of course there's worse with his English luck) before he can do a dash that'd have that school day looking like slo-mo, his stomach rumbles, sealing the deal and their fates. His girlfriend has never let him go hungry yet. Shit. To be continued then.*