Ingrid Sundberg's Colour Dictionary - Writing Help

ok ok hear me out … innocently skinny dipping with best friend!Joaquín quickly turns not so innocent

oh i hear you loud and clear, anon (18+)

the heat had been unbearable all day, the kind that made your skin feel sticky even when you weren’t moving. so when you found the creek in the middle of your hike—a perfect little hideaway, tucked between trees, the water glistening under the summer sun—you had to take advantage.

“absolutely not,” joaquín had said the moment he realized what you were suggesting.

“oh, come on,” you groaned, already tugging off your shoes. “it’s hot as hell, and this is, like, prime summer adventure material. what, can’t you swim?”

“i can, i just—” he gestured vaguely at you, cheeks already a little pink. “you can’t just say we should go skinny dipping like it’s normal.”

you grinned, unbuttoning your shorts. “it is normal.”

“for people who—” he cut himself off, running a hand down his face. “you know what? fine. whatever.”

that was all the permission you needed. you were already stripping, kicking your shorts to the side before pulling your shirt over your head. joaquín went quiet. completely, deadly quiet. when you glanced up, he looked like he’d just been hit over the head with a brick.

his mouth opened, then closed. he swallowed hard.

“you don’t have to, y’know,” you teased, slipping your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear.

“i know,” he said quickly, too quickly.

then, before he could think too hard about it, he tore his shirt off, tossing it to the ground like if he hesitated for even a second, he’d lose all his nerve. his hands hovered at his belt, though, like his brain was suddenly catching up to what was happening.

you, on the other hand, had already unhooked your bra.

and you didn’t wait.

by the time joaquín had worked up the courage to get down to his boxers, you were already sinking into the water, the cool relief washing over you as you sighed happily. when you looked back, he was staring, frozen at the edge of the creek, hair ruffled from the wind, sun catching on the planes of his chest.

“you comin’?” you asked, smiling.

joaquín blinked. his hands twitched at the front of his crotch.

“…yeah,” he croaked, though he still hadn’t moved.

you smirked. “you sure?”

his jaw ticked. “shut up.”

And yet, he still hesitated. Still lingered at the edge like stepping in would be a point of no return.

That’s when you really decided to test him.

You stretched, letting your body float a little in the water. You let your arms skim the surface, your back arching slightly as you sighed in contentment, and then—just for good measure—you let your eyes drag over him in slow, deliberate appraisal.

“Shame,” you mused. “Water feels really good.”

that did it.

with a muttered curse, joaquín shoved his boxers down and waded in after you, water splashing as he hurried in—probably faster than necessary, just to make sure you didn’t get too good of a look.

not that it mattered. because now, he was right there.

close enough that you could see the droplets of water on his collarbones. close enough that the warmth of his skin bled into yours, even with the cool creek between you.

close enough that when you met his eyes, something shifted.

his tongue flicked out to wet his lips. your pulse jumped.

you should’ve been laughing. you should’ve splashed him or made some joke about him finally getting over himself. but you didn’t.

instead, you just floated there, watching him.

and he watched you back.

and neither of you moved.

the creek was deep enough that your feet couldn’t touch the bottom, so you drifted, floating on your backs, the sun warming your face while the water cooled everything else.

it was nice. Iit was easy.

every now and then, the faint stream of the creek pulled you both closer, bobbing on what little current there was until your outstretched fingertips brushed his—and every time, it startled the both of you out of whatever daze you’d slipped into. the first few times, you’d both jerk away, an awkward laugh bubbling up, pretending it didn’t mean anything.

but then it happened again. and again. and again.

eventually, you stopped caring.

that’s how you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with joaquín, legs brushing, skin slick with water and leftover sunscreen, the warmth of him bleeding into you even with the water between you.

it should’ve been fine. it should’ve been just friends—best friends—cooling off in a creek in the middle of nowhere.

but then you turned your head and really looked at him.

his hair was wet, dark curls weighed down and sticking to his forehead. droplets of water clung to his jaw, his collarbones, the ridges of his toned arms. the sun cast a glow over his skin, and when you glanced down, you could just barely see the shift of muscle beneath the water.

and suddenly, fine didn’t quite cut it anymore.

you swallowed hard, shifting slightly, but that only made things worse. because now your thigh was pressed against his. now his arm was touching yours. now you were very, very aware of the fact that there was absolutely nothing between the two of you but a thin barrier of water and willpower.

joaquín sucked in a breath. “you’re, uh… really close.”

“so are you,” you murmured.

he went quiet and shifted so his head bobbed over the water. you did the same.

and then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you let your fingers drift beneath the water, just barely brushing over his stomach.

his reaction was instant.

he tensed, breath hitching, his body jolting slightly as he tried to keep his composure. you felt it—the sharp inhale, the way his abs flexed beneath your touch, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he was fighting the urge to grab onto something.

like you.

your eyes flickered up to meet his, a slow, knowing smile tugging at your lips.

“…you okay there, torres?”

he exhaled sharply, his head tilting back toward the sky. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you hummed, fingers tracing just a little lower. “maybe.”

and then, just to prove a point, you kicked off him, spinning back into the water, pretending like nothing had happened.

but you felt it.

you felt the way his eyes stayed locked on you, felt the way his breath hitched again when your body surfaced a little too close to his, felt the way the tension crackled between you like the summer heat itself.

and when you glanced back at him, raising a brow, he was still watching you, pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“…you’re a dick,” he muttered, voice lower than before.

you smiled. “you love me though.”

his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

then, with a sudden surge, he lunged forward, sending a wave of water crashing over you both, laughter and gasps lost in the heat of the moment.

his hands slid up your bare waist, mouth hovering just over yours. he looked at you, waiting, itching to lean closer. and you did the same, brushing your nose against his as the two of you slowly leaned closer, and closer.

his lips finally crash against yours, and it’s messy, desperate—like you’ve both been waiting for this, like the water between you is the only thing keeping you from completely falling into each other.

your hands find their way to his shoulders, gripping onto him as he pulls you in, his arms wrapping around your waist, locking you against him. the cool water does little to combat the heat between you, the way his lips part against yours, the way his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, tasting like summer and something sweeter—something uniquely joaquín.

you let out a quiet gasp as he deepens the kiss, one of his hands trailing up your back, fingers dragging over your wet skin, sending a shiver through you despite the warmth of the sun overhead. he’s still holding you so close, chest to chest, heartbeat against heartbeat, and when he tilts his head to kiss you deeper, the both of you nearly sink under the water.

joaquín chuckles, breaking away for just a second, his forehead pressing against yours as you both catch your breath.

“guess we should be careful,” he murmurs, voice rough, eyes dark with something unreadable.

but you don’t want to be careful.

so you tug him back in, fingers slipping into his curls, giving them a teasing little tug just to hear him groan against your lips. his hands grip your waist tighter in response, like he’s trying to ground himself, but he’s losing the battle.

and so are you.

his kisses trail lower—your jaw, your neck, the wet skin of your shoulder—and your head tips back, a quiet, breathy sound escaping you. joaquín exhales shakily, lips hovering over your pulse for a second before he presses his teeth against it, not quite biting, but not exactly soft, either.

“joaquín,” you whisper, hands fisting in his hair.

he just hums against your skin, pleased with himself, before pulling back to look at you, his lips red, swollen, glistening with the faintest hint of water. his gaze flickers between your lips and your eyes, and then, just as quickly as he kissed you, that teasing little smirk of his starts creeping back in.

“we should probably head back,” he muses, voice deliberately casual, but his grip on your hips doesn’t loosen. if anything, his fingers dig in just a little bit more.

you scoff, half-laughing, half-breathless. “you wanna leave right now?”

joaquín grins, cocky and pleased, but he leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth before murmuring, “c’mon… where’s the fun in giving in all at once? i saw a motel a few miles back from where we parked the car. we can continue there if you want, but only if you’r up for it.”

and fuck, if that wasn’t a challenge, you didn’t know what was.

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Umm can we get a jj fic that's just making out while a movie plays in the background...? Like a makeout sesh not leading to anything...?

I love your writing and think you could make it so cute...😊😊

Author's Notes: It was hard for me to pick a movie, but I ended up picking one that I thought fit for JJ, and is a personal favourite (also shout out season 2 for the lil' homage) If this was your request I hope you love it. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you xoxoxoxo

Warnings: Brief mentions of Maybank home life, Otherwise fluffy! Just kissing, and touching.

Requested? YES! Requests for OBX are OPEN!

*My work is not to be transferred, copied, translated or reposted to any other sites without my permission. Please see my masterlist for all other works and warnings. Thank you! xoxo

Slow. JJ Maybank could do slow. He could be the King of taking things slow. He could keep his hands to himself and keep his....in his pants for as long needed, if that's she wanted. He would be the most gentlemanly Pogue to ever walk the Outer Banks.

It was their Friday night routine. A movie at her house, too many snacks and then they crashed on the couch. Her parents were fine with him staying there, they knew it was the best place for him. And they trusted him, surprisingly. So they didn't care about having a giant, blonde boy sprawled out on their couch from Friday to Sunday.

Her dad always greeted him with a smile, and a pat on his shoulder when he let him in the front door. Always asked him how he was as he let him inside, telling him to kick off his shoes and make himself at home. It was always foreign to JJ, but he did it anyways.

That Friday, though, they were alone. Her dad didn't open the front door to let him inside, or tell him to kick off his muddy boots. It was his girl who opened the door for him.

"Hey, gorgeous." JJ smiled as he leaned against the doorjamb with his backpack slung over one shoulder.

"Hi, baby." She beamed up at him before she stood on her toes and tossed her arms around his shoulders for a tight hug. He pressed a kiss to the side of her face and then followed her inside the house, kicking of his shoes as she looked back at him expectantly. He didn't think he would ever get used to that.

"So, what movie did you bring me tonight?" She smiled at him as she flopped on the couch, her knees hung over the arm.

"Thought it was your choice this time." JJ replied as he grabbed her feet, pulled off her fuzzy slippers and wiggled the tips of his fingers against the arch of her left foot to make her squeal.

"You don't pay attention to the movies I pick." She giggled with a kick of her foot away from his tickling fingers.

"I will this time, promise. Pay attention to whatever rom-com trash you pick." JJ scoffed as tossed his backpack down beside the couch, then placed his hands on the arm of the plush piece of furniture and leaned over her legs.

"Well, you're in luck. Because I didn't want to watch a romantic comedy tonight." She smiled as she opened her arms, reaching up to him and inviting him to lay in her arms.

"No? What were you thinking?" JJ responded as he accepted her invitation and laid his body on top of hers, spreading his weight on his hands so he didn't crush her.

"Maybe a scary movie? I know you like those." She grunted as his chest dropped against hers, her hands resting on his shoulders.

"Well, you're in luck. I brought one just in case you picked something lame." JJ grinned as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her nose.

"I don't have a VHS player, JJ." She teased as she reached for the soft wisps of blonde hair beneath his solid blue hat.

"Shut up. I didn't bring a VHS." JJ scoffed, a blush creeping up his neck and colouring his cheeks. He pushed himself up from the couch, reaching down to his bag and pulling out an old DVD from the island video rental store he never returned. If that place was still around he would probably owe more than the HMS Pogue was worth in rental fees.

He popped the disc in the player, then turned on the television, making sure his frame blocked her eyes from seeing what the was putting on. He always liked it to be a surprised. Her exaggerated whines were his favourite. The way she'd toss her body into his when he put on something from the 80's that she swore she didn't like, but would watch in a trance the whole time. He knew her better than she thought he did.

A smile crossed his face as he pressed play then slowly backed up towards the couch to take up his usual spot beside her. He rested his arm over the back of the couch and let her cuddle up close into the side of his body, her knees against her chest.

"I knew you'd pick this one! It was only a matter of time!" She giggled as she grabbed the collar of his shirt then turned her body so she straddled his lap.

"Goonies are like Pogues. We never say die." JJ shrugged with a lopsided grin as he placed his hands on her hips. He thumbed at the belt loops of her shorts and let her toy with the ends of his hair.

JJ's girl only smiled as she twisted her fingers into his hair as it poked out of the bottom of his hat, leaning her body into his as the movie started in the background. He wanted to make a smart remark about how he had been trying to get her to watch this movie for months, and she was distracting him.

But he really didn't mind the distraction. He had seen the movie probably a good two dozen times. Maybe more.

JJ placed his hands on her backside and tugged her closer against him, the heat from her body engulfing him. He pressed a kiss to her cheek as he slid his hands in to the back pockets of her shorts, letting her play with his hair.

"You smell really good." JJ mumbled against her cheek, then began to press kiss after kiss along her jawline down her neck.

"Thanks, baby. You smell good, too." She replied with a smile, her hands resting on his shoulders as he pressed a prolonged kiss to the side of her neck.

"No. I don't. Been helping my cousin work on his car all day. I smell like oil, and grease." JJ laughed as he pulled his head back and looked at her face.

"What's wrong with Ricky's car now?" She questioned as she traced over his strong shoulders, her eyes on her fingers.

"I think a list of things that are right with Ricky's car would be easier to answer." JJ scoffed as he pulled his right hand out of her back pocket and placed it on her thigh, his calloused fingertips tracing his own patterns on her soft skin.

"You're a good cousin, JJ." She stated softly before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.

JJ released a slow exhale through his nostrils as he reached his right hand up to place it on her cheek. A low groan rumbled in his chest as she shifted in his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck to pull herself close him. She was so warm in his arms, and she smelled so good - like the flowers outside of that library he used to visit as a kid. Fresh, but a little sweet.

"Take this off. I love your hair." She whispered as she pulled of his hat, placing it on the back of the couch then pushed her fingers up the back of his head and into his hair.

JJ smiled then leaned forward to kiss her again, not ready to let her go. He sealed his lips to hers in a firm kiss as his hand wrapped around the back of her neck, his own fingers twisted in her hair. He couldn't remember the last time he had spent so much time with a girl just touching her, kissing her, or learning who she was.

"JJ." She mumbled into their kiss, her eyes closed as his fingertips circled the back of her neck.

"Yeah?"

"My parents won't be home next weekend." She whispered as she dropped her forehead to his and smoothed her hands over his biceps, his skin warm and still a little sweaty from a day outside working on the car.

JJ leaned his head back on the couch and raised his eyebrows at his girlfriend. He had been with enough girls to know what that statement meant. Or what she was asking him, without really asking him. JJ placed both hands on her backside as he mulled over her statement for a moment.

"Where are they going? JJ questioned as his hands traveled from her backside to the sides of her thighs, her skin so soft and warm beneath his palms.

"A vow renewal on the main-land for some of their friends from college. I thought, if you wanted, you could spend the night." She didn't look at him as she answered, rather pulled her index finger through the collar of his T-shirt.

"Of course I want to. I always want to. But, you know that we don't have to, y'know, do anything. I'll spend the night next weekend just the two of us. But there's no like, expectation. We can just hang out and watch movies. Or I can build you a fire in that nice pit outside your dad never uses. Whatever you want." JJ replied, and he meant every single word. He could, and he would, wait for her.

"And if I happened to be naked?" She questioned as she thumbed at a piece of lint on his shirt, her eyes on his chest.

"Then I guess I'll be naked, too." JJ grinned before he pressed his lips to her cheek.

She held his face in her hands, her fingertips on his jawline, and turned her face to press her lips to his. JJ released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in his chest and wrapped his arms around her middle again, keeping her flush against him. He licked at her bottom lip, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile as she whined a little and let his tongue slip inside her mouth. She reached to the back of his head, tugging on his soft, messy blonde hair as he dragged the tip of his tongue along the roof of her mouth. JJ breathing out a laugh as she rocked her hips on top of him.

"You make it hard to take things slow sometimes, pretty baby." JJ muttered as he removed his tongue from her mouth and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"M'sorry." She whispered as she twirled a strand of his hair around her index finger, her forehead against his.

"Don't be. You're worth the wait, and I kinda like just kissing you." JJ breathed as he placed a hand on the back of her neck once more to bring her lips to his.

In the back of his mind, JJ made peace with the fact that he wasn't going to get to show his girl one of his favourite movies that night. He figured there would probably be ample opportunity to show it to her again, and if she found herself in his lap again the next time The Goonies were on a treasure hunt...

Well, he wouldn't exactly mind then either. Whatever got her close to him.

Hotties:

@rafecameronspolo @barrysjumpsuit @barrysmanbun @vintageobx @fashion-fasting @drewstarkeysbitchh @babeyglo @pogueslandia @rottenstyx @whcclxr @soph0864 @beauvibaby @plutooryectors @futuremrsstarkey @multifandom-obsessed @siriusstwelveyears @drewstarkeysbitchh @mackenzielovee @glodessa

*tag list is open, please let me know if I forgot you or you would like to be added/removed from particular posts. I've removed the people that don't pre-populate :(

Please let me know what you think if you have a moment! Thank you so much xoxo

Requests for OBX ARE OPEN!

your boyfriend/girlfriend can’t even look at you if they’re trying to tell you no. they have to avoid eye contact, occupy themselves with another task at hand when you ask them of something they know they can’t say yes to. will tense up if your voice is off pitch after their refusal, resisting the urge to scoop you into their arms and give into your demands.

max mayfield. mike wheeler. WILL BYERS. lucas sinclair. EDDIE MUNSON. jane hopper/eleven. STEVE HARRINGTON. billy hargrove. robin buckley.

summer road trip with luke castellan (16+, implied sex)

it starts with a promise.

made late at night, in the kind of hazy space between sleep and dreaming, when the world feels quiet and nothing’s quite real yet. you’re lying side by side on a roof somewhere—one of those abandoned places luke likes to sneak into. the stars are barely visible, city lights bleeding up into the sky, but you’re not really looking at the stars anyway.

“we should do it,” he says, breathless from laughter after a dumb joke he barely managed to get out. “just take off one day. no plans. no schedules. just you, me, and the open road.”

you laugh into the sleeve of your hoodie. “okay, cowboy.”

“i’m serious.” he props himself up on his elbows. “we’ll make playlists. stay in janky motels. get gas station snacks that’ll probably kill us. it’ll be perfect.”

you hum, eyes fluttering shut. “we’re always saying ‘one day.’ you ever think about making it this day?”

he doesn’t say anything for a long second.

then, “i’ll steal a car.”

you snort. “please don’t steal a car.”

“fine. borrow one.” he nudges your arm. “c’mon. you know you want this.”

you do. gods, you really do.

and maybe that’s why two weeks later you’re throwing a duffel bag in the backseat of an old car luke somehow managed to “legally” obtain (you don’t ask too many questions), a worn paper map stuffed into the glove compartment, and three half-charged burner phones just in case.

you don’t even pick a destination. that’s the point.

it’s about the drive.

the first few days are the best kind of disorganized. you get hopelessly turned around trying to get out of the city, miss your turn like, four times, and end up on some weird detour through a town that seems stuck in the 1950s. you eat breakfast-for-dinner at a diner with cracked red booths and a waitress who calls you both “sweethearts.” luke leaves a doodle on a napkin and tucks it into the jukebox.

the road stretches ahead like a ribbon of possibility, glittering under the sun. the heat blurs the horizon, making everything shimmer like a mirage, and the sky is that kind of obnoxiously perfect blue that feels more like a postcard than real life.

the a.c. in the car gave up somewhere around three days ago, so the windows are rolled down, warm air rushing in and tangling your hair, sticking your shirt to your back. it doesn’t help much, but it’s better than nothing.

you've got one foot propped on the dash and a half-melted slushie wedged into the cupholder, condensation dripping down the sides. the map—the one you swore you didn’t need, and luke insisted you bring anyway—flutters against your knee every time the wind hits just right. it’s already creased and stained, with corners starting to curl. neither of you are really using it.

a cd clicks softly in the stereo, and a hazy guitar riff spills out—something easy, something old. the kind of music that makes you feel like you’re in a movie.

you hum to the songs you know, watching the scenery blur past in golden smears of light and heat.

luke’s driving one-handed, the other resting lazily out the window, fingers tapping against the door in time with the beat. sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose, and there’s a sunburn blooming along the edge of his jaw that he keeps forgetting to take care of. he looks over at you, grinning.

“you’re gonna fly out the window if you lean any further.”

“worth it,” you say, hair whipping across your face. “this breeze is all that’s keeping me alive right now.”

he chuckles, reaching over to tug the map from your lap. “you’re the one who said we didn’t need to stop for sunscreen. or, y’know, ice.”

“and you’re the one who didn’t want to stop for directions,” you shoot back, watching him squint at the map like it personally offended him. “so now we’re two thirsty idiots lost somewhere between nowhere and hell.”

“romantic,” he says, tossing the map into the backseat. “just the way i like it.”

you roll your eyes, but it’s affectionate. always is with him.

the wind smells like dust and wildflowers, and every few miles, you pass a road sign faded by time and sun. one of them promises a lake in twenty minutes which probably is not true. the next, a diner with the “best pie in the state.” you don’t stop for either. maybe the next one.

you were supposed to take turns driving. that was the deal—fifty-fifty, no arguments. but luke, being luke, never sticks to the plan. he always insists he’s fine, even when you catch his eyes fluttering shut at a red light, head tilting slightly like he’s about to nod off right then and there.

“i literally saw you close your eyes for five seconds,” you say when he pulls into a gas station, the gravel crunching beneath the tires as he parks.

“it was just five seconds,” he groans.

“five seconds away from crashing,” you mutter, already unbuckling your seatbelt. “move over.”

he sighs, dragging himself out from behind the wheel with all the theatrics of someone who’s definitely not fine, even if he still insists otherwise. he grumbles under his breath as he slides into the passenger seat—and is completely passed out the second his head hits the window. no “i’m not even tired,” no “just resting my eyes.” just out cold. mouth open, snoring, even drooling a little.

you drive comfortably after that. there’s less tension on your shoulders now that you’re the one in control, and luke’s quiet snoring is oddly comforting.

he stirs sometime later, sleep-warm and rumpled, his voice still thick with it when he reaches across the console. his hand finds yours with ease, like it’s muscle memory. his fingers slot between yours and, without a word, he lifts your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. soft. slow. like a thank-you.

somewhere between a cracked-out diner with the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had and a pit stop at a quiet national park, you start feeling it—that warm, slow burn that only summer with luke castellan can bring.

it’s in the way he looks at you when you’re not looking, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. it’s in the casual brush of his thumb over the back of your hand. it’s in the way he steals bites of your food, complains about the heat, and still tucks a cold bottle of water into your hands without being asked.

he’s quiet during the hikes, but he always slows down so you don’t fall behind, even when you insist you’re fine. he keeps snacks in his pockets for you, things he knows you like, things you didn’t even notice him buying. and when you sit beside him on the edge of a cliff, watching the sun drip like honey into the horizon, he kisses your shoulder so gently it sends goosebumps across your skin.

he takes so many pictures of you. most of the time you don’t even notice until he shows you later—sun-drenched, wind-tousled, blurry with motion but sharp with love. he says he wants to remember you like this. you laugh and roll your eyes, but still smile a little too hard when you see them.

you two stop at a few motels every now and then. they were nothing special. peeling paint, flickering neon sign half-buzzed out, and a questionable stain or two on the carpet—but it’s cheap, and it’s got just enough charm to feel like part of the story. luke leans against the counter while you check in, tapping the bell repeatedly until you swat at him.

the old woman behind the desk gives you a room key and a knowing smirk like she’s seen a thousand versions of you two before: sunburnt, road-weary, eyes too bright to be anything but in love.

sometimes, impulses get the best of the two of you. like when one day luke spots a faded little hand-painted sign pointing down an overgrown path off the side of the highway. beach access. there’s no one around. no cars. just the sound of cicadas and wind through tall grass.

you both follow it on instinct, barefoot and laughing, racing toward the sound of crashing waves.

and then there it is: a hidden stretch of shoreline tucked between two cliffs, like a secret carved out just for you. no footprints, no noise except for the ocean. the sand’s hot and soft under your feet, the sun dipping low on the horizon and casting everything in amber.

you run straight into the water, still half-dressed, splashing and shrieking when luke dunks you under and then pulls you back up, breathless and dripping. he kisses you then, water-slicked and grinning, hands on your waist like he’s never going to let go.

and later, after you’ve both sprinted back to the car, giddy and dripping wet, after the sand’s stuck to every inch of your skin and the sun’s painted you gold, you end up tangled in the back seat. skin sticky with sweat, your bodies pressed close in the heat of the car, breathing in tandem.

the windows fog up, the air thick with salt and sun and something heavier. the radio hums low, some lazy summer song playing beneath the sounds of your bodies shifting, touching, needing. his hands roam like he’s mapping you out all over again, rough in the way he holds you but gentle in the way he touches, like he knows exactly where to press to make you shiver.

he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the taste of salt on your lips, like he wants to bottle this exact moment and keep it somewhere safe. and you, half-laughing between gasps, fingers twisted in his curls, mumble against his mouth, “i told you the backseat would get too hot.”

“guess we’ll have to open the door,” he says, voice low and teasing. “get a breeze in here.”

you roll your eyes, breathless and flushed. “fuck off, if we get caught by some poor park ranger—”

“worth it,” he grins, before kissing you again. deeper, slower this time.

and when you’re breathless and half-dressed, your back pressed to the warm seat and your body aching in all the best ways, you lie there with your head on his chest. his heartbeat is loud in your ear, steady and real.

you tilt your face up toward him, the fading light painting him in gold. “same time next summer?”

his arm tightens around you, his voice soft and full of something you don’t have a name for yet. “you’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

because you’re mine (it seems like we’re meant to be)

reader x elliot // bonfire fluff

warnings: drugs , alcohol use

a/n : i know this is very random, considering i’m a bts account, but recently euphoria has been giving me motivation to write, so feel free to request more!💫

the white shafts of daylight have passed, gone are the shadows of evening. flames from the fire rise boldly against the black sky. before that great fire their skin is glowing red, orange and gold. every eye is reflecting the flickering light, each iris containing a small picture of the bonfire before them. yet, it isn’t simply just the sight that has you mesmerized, so too has the crackling and the woody fragrance of smoke. you end up being put in front of elliot’s legs, feelings his knees against your back. you feel something press against your lips. as you look down to see a cup and elliot’s face, peering up at you imploringly as he offers the drink to you.of course, you take it, pulling it away to peer into the contents.

 “what is this?” you ask; it’s bright blue and looks like there’s glitter in it.

“i made it,” says elliot, and that’s enough of a reason to believe that you won’t die drinking it. so you knock back half of it in one go, swallowing and then frowning as you hand the cup back. 

“it’s supposed to taste like blueberry slushie, but i’m not sure if i got it right”.

you smack your lips. “tastes more like synthetic syrup” you admit, moving your hand to run your fingers over the nape of elliot’s neck.

his lips curl back into a hazy grin, reaching up to plant a kiss on your lips “i guess you’re right” elliot says moving back, but you kiss him back, a little harder than necessary; you’re not nearly drunk enough, but you kiss elliot like that anyway.“alright, alright,” rue calls. “don’t start fucking with all of us here”

elliot pulls back, turning to look at her, then pecks your cheek smiling, “there’s a first time for everything.”

beside rue, lexi makes a pained noise and immediately gets up. 

you pull back from elliot just enough, although you’re still tangled together as the rest of you dissolve into another conversation.

you let yourself listen to the lazy conversation as elliot wraps himself around you, clingier than usual thanks to the alcohol. elliot can still remember the new year’s eve, when you’ve crushed through the door trying to find rue, as cliche as it sounds, he knew you’ll mean a lot to him in the near future. 

and you did, still do.

maybe it was inevitable, then, for you to fall together the way you did—under the stars, and the entire world at your feet. when you kissed him for the first time out there, elliot told you it was probably a bad idea. but as soon as your lips met, both knew, there was no going back.you bring the joint to your lips and inhaling before you let out a long stream of smoke as you stare up at the stars.

there’s a light touch of elliot’s fingers caressing your sides.

you look up at him with that same lazy grin; there’s only the light of the moon and the fire, but it’s enough to see the way elliot looks at you. 

you want to blame it on the alcohol and the drugs, but elliot always kind of looks at you like he can’t believe you are real, like no high or euphoria could ever compare. you understand. it’s the way you look at him, too.

you take another drag of your joint and then lift your chin up, and elliot gets it immediately, leaning down and over you until your lips are nearly touching. you hold it for a second, at least until elliot gets impatient and bites your bottom lip, and then you open your mouth and breathe the smoke into his mouth. you can feel elliot grinning as your lips brush together, and then you lift your head up an inch to press your lips together into a kiss.by the time you resurface—or elliot pulls away, letting you back into the rest of the world, because it’s always hard to focus on anything else—the others have started their own conversation.

“you two are making me sick,” says nate.

“you’re fucking sick,” says fez.

you’re too lost in your own thoughts, brought back to the present only by elliot tickling your chin, leaning in and whispering, “are you sleeping?”

you grin, keeping your eyes closed as you murmurs “just thinking.”

“about?”

you hum. “you.”

elliot kisses your nose. you finally open your eyes, looking up at elliot looking down at you.

“i love you, you know,” says elliot, not taking his eyes off you.

you thumb at the corners of elliot’s mouth,“ i love you too,” you answer, breathless.

fuck valentine's day - elliot x gn!reader

posted feb 10th, 2024 10:10 pm

here's another belated valentine's blurb but this one's superduper short and also one for a character i wouldn't typically write for! but i felt like this one was meant to be ooc elliot from euphoria so here you are :)

masterlist

not proofread!

wordcount: 0.4k

“I hate Valentine’s Day.” You murmured, the sound of Elliot’s chuckle filled your ears, smoke escaping his mouth and swirling throughout his bedroom. “Fuck Valentine’s Day,” Elliot agreed through his quiet laughter. 

A few minutes had passed since your agreement, The feeling of Elliot’s head landing on your thigh caught your attention as you looked down at him. “Why do we hate Valentine’s Day?” Elliot’s question was quiet and almost teasing as he sideways smirked up at you. He hummed when your hand found his bleached curls, lightly tugging. “Cause, it sucks,” you mumbled back.

He hummed again, closing his eyes. Elliot knew it wouldn’t take long for you to continue so-

“It’s just dumb, flowers and chocolate and done up couples with their tongues down each other’s throats-” “You like it when my tongue is down your throat” Elliot cut you off with a mumble before groaning at the way you pulled his hair in response. “It’s just more effort for one day when really these should be normal things, you know?” You continued your rant, sighing as you played with your boyfriend’s hair. 

“I’ll buy you flowers and chocolates,” Elliot muttered, eyes still closed causing him to miss the way you smiled at his words. You know he probably didn’t mean it, too stoned to remember later on. All of this was probably going in one ear and out the other. It still felt nice to hear though.

The next afternoon had rolled around, leaving you excited to go home, and honestly? Go back to sleep. But now, you were met with a flat tire, causing you to get home a few minutes late.

Of course, you dread over this the entire way home, only forgetting about it when you make eye contact with a vase holding a mismatched bouquet, and the little heart-shaped box of plastic sitting in front of your door. You smiled softly, trying not to get too excited yet, you ditched your bike in the driveway and moved towards the nice gifts. Picking up the little note, you noticed that in scribbled handwriting wrote, 

“fuck Valentine’s Day - E”  

hi !! can you do jj with “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.” && character B (JJ) taking care of A (reader) when they are sick. :)

possible trigger warning: mentions of throwing up

you groaned as you pulled yourself away from the toilet, leaning back against the wall behind you. you had been nauseous all day, your stomach contents reduced to only bile at this point. yet somehow you were still getting sick. the front door to the chateau slammed shut and you winced at the sound. it sent a pant of pain to both temples and you reached up to press them, trying to alleviate some of it.

you heard footsteps make their way into the spare room that you and jj had practically claimed as your own at this point. they stopped briefly and then you heard them again, now coming toward you. there was a light knock at the bathroom door and then it was slowly opening, jjs head peeking in.

“get sick again?” he asked softly and you nodded the best you could. he entered fully into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. “do you want to brush your teeth? or do you want some sprite or ginger ale? i also got some bread and crackers.” though you knew he was only trying to help, the thought of eating or drinking anything was terrible. you scrunched your nose at his suggestions and he understood what you meant. “ok, fine. but you need to eat or drink something eventually so you don’t get dehydrated and feel even worse.”

“i will, j, but later though ok?” he nodded and it was silent for a moment. you looked down at your lap only to groan again.

“what’s wrong? feel sick again?”

“no, i got puke in my hair.” jj sighed but made his way over to the tub and turned on the water. he let it run with his hand underneath it for a moment and then turned to you.

“come here. lean against the tub and put your head back.” you scooted slowly the short distance to him and did as he said, feeling the flow of warm water over your scalp. you smiled as you closed your eyes, letting your sweet boyfriend wash your hair. when he had shampooed and conditioned it, he turned the water off and stood to grab a towel from the closet. he carefully dried your hair the best he could and then leaned against the wall where you had been only minutes ago. you watched from the corner of your eye as he seemed to study you until you finally turned to face him.

“thank you. i don’t feel good enough to do that myself but i’d feel even worse if it hadn’t been cleaned.” he smiled and you returned it, though not as big.

“i can braid your hair for you,” he blurted, and you raised an eyebrow at him, slightly confused.

“you want to?” you asked and he nodded.

“i mean, only if you want me to. i was just thinking it would be easy to keep out of the way if you get sick again.” you smiled once more and nodded, moving in front of him. the feeling of his fingers in your hair was relaxing and you nearly fell asleep sat on the bathroom floor. it seemed that jj noticed this because when he finished and the band was securely around your hair, he gently pulled your back into his chest. you whined slightly and he let out a small laugh at your reaction.

“jj, can we go lay down? i’m tired.” you turned slightly and cuddled into his chest for emphasis. jj nodded, though you didn’t see it, and was careful as he picked you up off the floor and carried you to bed.

— right by my violets

luke castellan x fem reader / cw suggestive content

title from n side by steve lacy. loosely related to the killerverse so its only semi canon and u don’t have to read the series to understand ! i’ll call this ch 8.5

Your favorite time to jumpscare Luke is when he’s just come fresh from a shower right after training.

He always smells like that tropical shampoo he likes and never fails to collapse in his bed face down, perfect for scaring him so hard he jumps.

You throw yourself into the space next to him, and the bed nearly collapses under you.

Luke groans, his face pressed firmly into his pillow. “Ow, killer.”

“I didn’t even jump on top of you this time!”

You try not to be too upset at how unsurprised he was at your jumpscare — you’ll have to start finding other ways to scare him — while your eager hands reach to pull back his top sheet.

You freeze in place when the sheet makes it below his shoulders.

“Luke?”

He grunts in response.

“Why are you naked?”

His startled laugh is muffled by his pillow. “‘m not. Now lay down and quit it.”

Your greedy eyes eat up the sight of his bare back, but you don’t let his nice skin get to you that easy. “I’m not lying down with you if you’re naked, you perv.”

He catches you by the fabric of your shirt when you slide away from his tickling fingers.

“I’m wearing shorts.” Luke rolls onto his back before he nudges down the sheet around his waist. Black fabric you recognize as an old pair of basketball shorts peek out from underneath.

You very respectfully do not let your eyes linger for too long when you take a seat next to him. He laughs anyway. “Sorry, babe. I know how upset you get when my clothes are on.”

You run your thumb over his waistband. “I’m devastated.”

Luke likes to act cocky like this, but you press the back of your hand against his face and feel how flushed he is. You smile a little evilly when you kiss his cheek.

You rest your head against the junction between his shoulder and upper arm, a spot he always insists you lay on even when his arm goes numb after an hour. He wastes no time linking one of your hands with one of his.

“Your farmer’s tan is starting,” you point out, letting your free hand travel up and down his chest. The skin of his torso and upper arms, spots usually covered by his camp tee, are just a few shades lighter than the rest of his lower arms. He feels very soft. “I think that means you should start training without a shirt on.”

“I’m sure everyone would love that.”

You trace a vein that goes down his arm before you wrap your hand around the skin of his opposite bicep. “I sure would.”

He sighs a little while he shifts to get more comfortable, probably sore from throwing around his sword all afternoon. “Don’t worry. You’re wearing my last clean shirt, so I guess it means I’ll have to.”

You wrinkle your nose. “You’re such a boy, hero. Is that why you’re half naked right now? You didn’t do your laundry?”

He groans when he presses half of his face into your hair, like the thought of washing his clothes is enough to make him sick. “I’ve been busy.”

Too busy. He’s been putting in extra work lately.

“I know. It feels like you like Claudia more than me.”

Claudia’s the old training dummy that was retired to the back of the storage closet. Luke unearthed her a few weeks ago and hung her back up next to the new ones, giving her a second chance at life. She was already battered and falling apart before, so Luke’s new training regimen means she’s bordering on decomposing.

Luke cracks your knuckles with his hand, and you do the same for him, pressing down on his fingers until you hear the snapping sound. “I care about you both equally, sweetheart.”

You try reaching behind his head to smother him with his pillow, but he yanks it out of your hands so he can chuck it across the room instead. Without any other viable weapon, you throw your leg over his side and reach for his neck.

Play-fighting with Luke is funny because you both are perfectly aware of how strong the other is. He’s watched you decapitate a line of Telekhines with one blow and you’ve watched him wake up to kill an Empousai before going back to the nap he’d been having.

But the second you’re messing around like this, it’s like the two of you have never seen a day of fighting in your lives. You press against Luke’s arms with the same strength you’d use to open a bag of chips, and he pushes back with the same effort.

“I hope you and Claudia will be happy, then,” you say, squealing in fear when he sits straight up. “Won’t be able to force her to give you massages, though.”

Luke stands up and you tighten your legs around his waist so he has to carry you around. Your arms go around his neck because he’s too tired to support you with anything other than a lazy arm under you, and he taps along your back as he moves closer to the door.

A shiver goes down your neck when he catches your earlobe with his teeth like the weirdo he is. “Don’t tell her. But you’ll always be my favorite.”

“Thanks, I guess.” It feels like your external body temperature has jumped a few degrees since Luke is so warm. He makes his way over to the en suite bathroom and flicks the light on, and you realize boredly that he’s getting ready for bed.

Before you can start complaining, he sets you down on the counter so you can talk his ear off. Luke is very focused during his nighttime routine, his brow knit while he washes his face thoroughly and tries to keep track of how long he’s been brushing his teeth for.

You entertain him with the story of how one of your younger sisters is trying and failing to let this Hephaestus kid know she likes him. He squeezes your thigh intermittently, and you let the point of your foot nudge his side while your legs swing.

He spits into the sink and then runs the water. “Halle actually tripped into his arms like that?”

You nod morosely. “Faked slipping and everything. It felt like something you would do, it was that bad.”

He looks so offended at your comment you can’t help but smile.

“I’m not that bad,” he defends, choking on his own laugh when you squint in disbelief.

“Luke, you pretended to get a concussion during volleyball so you could sit out with me.”

He shoots his hand under the spout to try and flick water at you, but it ends up being more like having a hose shot at your face. Cold water drips down your chin and onto your shirt, making dark spots in the green fabric.

You look up at him. He’s giving you a wide eyed look, his hands up like he’s facing a feral animal. “Wait, wait, wait—”

The two of you wrestle for the handle of the sink.

You win, though.

Luke ends up having to wipe water from his eyes and use his towel to dry off his chest, which is now dripping with water. “I deserved that.”

You kiss his cheek when he steps between your legs. “Thank you for admitting it.”

He plants one on your lips, too. He tastes minty, so you kiss him again, a little bit difficult now with the way he’s smiling.

“You ate my gum?” he asks.

“No,” you lie, shifting forward off the counter so your chests are pressed together. Your noses bump when you tilt your head for him.

“I hope you enjoyed it.”

“There were only two left.” Your eyes cross as you try and stare into his despite how close your faces are. “And those sticks are small, Luke.”

He’s still smiling, but his eyes have trailed down to your lips now. “Kiss me again and I won’t be upset.”

You give him a peck before sitting back.

Luke frowns, his brows knitting so deeply it’s like his face is going to wrinkle in on itself. “That doesn’t count. I didn’t even feel it.”

You give him another brief kiss along his jaw. “Find me a dry t-shirt and I’ll give you a real one.”

You’re surprised you aren’t physically blown away from how fast he leaves the room.

The sound of him tearing through his dresser is loud. He trips over something during his search, mumbling stuff under his breath as you hear him unzip something.

“And it better be clean, Luke!”

It takes him a few minutes to come back to the bathroom, his face flushed and chest heaving.

The shirt he presents you with is ugly and old.

“Holy shit, dude. Did you find this in a museum?”

You remember making these a few summers ago before a bunch of you and Luke’s friends left for the school year. The shirt’s been through the wash too much and the marker has faded, but the front and back are littered with Luke’s failed tie-dye job and the names of old friends. You find your name written in block letters along the neckline.

“Nope.” He shakes his head a beat later while he catches his breath. “Found it stuffed under your clothes in your drawer.”

Luke’s dedicated a section of his dresser to you, and it's always full of your stuff. You slide your hands down his arms and give him a look.

“Why’d you go through all my clean clothes just to give me your old shirt?”

He’s grinning, trying to lean in already. “You’re not allowed to wear your own clothes here. It’s not right.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, but you’re very quick to let him splay his hand across your back.

He pinches the wet shirt off of your skin. “D’you want me to help you take this off?”

Freak.

You let him do it anyway.

He’s basically giggling the entire time, the process taking so much longer because he’s trying to keep his eyes on the ceiling while also working your new shirt back on. The second your head pops through the neckline, he’s crowding you into the counter again.

He leans in so close that your mouth parts on instinct. “So, when do I get that kiss that you—”

You give it to him, and he shuts up quick.

You think it’s sweet how he always kisses you like he’s never done it before — starved of the taste of you and the feel of you under his hands.

Luke’s hands stray to the sliver of skin at your midriff. His fingers are calloused but never harsh — he squeezes your sides, and he has to kiss you hard so you stop smiling.

His left hand follows your spine up under your shirt and lands on your opposite shoulder, holding you so close to him there’s no room to move away.

“Luke,” you complain. You wish he were standing closer to you.

“Yeah, yeah.” His hands scoop under your thighs and he lifts you off the counter again. “We gotta work on your patience, babe.”

You flick off the bathroom light for him while he takes you over to the chair by his bed. It’s old and small and definitely not made to fit two people, but he collapses into it anyway, and you follow with no other choice.

The two of you kiss slow and sweet — the kind you think are your favorite.

Sometimes, your kisses are the opposite. They can be sweltering and quick, ones that are just out of sight and ones that happen only when you manage to sneak away from your cabins for long enough.

You can’t quite tell how long you and Luke sit in his chair for. But it’s long enough for your hearts to start beating in sync and long enough for your legs to grow tired from the stupid chair.

Luke’s lips are red and a little swollen, though he doesn’t seem to mind at all. He doesn’t let you get more than an inch away before he’s dragging your lower lip between his teeth and pulling you back in.

You tell yourself you’re going to pull away at least ten different times, but then you feel his hand inching interestingly high and then he sucks a mark underneath your shirt where your name is written and then you feel limp and then you don’t pull away anymore.

“Hi,” he says, when you drag him off you so you can take oxygen into your lungs again. He has to look up at you since you’re kneeling over him. “Catching your breath?”

And trying not to pass out, you think.

You swipe your wrist over your lips, which are a little bit slick with spit. “Yeah. Hold me?”

“No,” Luke deadpans, though he’s already encouraging you to sit down on him to shift your weight off your knees. He brushes hair from your face when you tuck yourself against him. “Wanna sleep now?”

You’re a little lightheaded, but you don’t want to sleep. Your eyes slide closed involuntarily when you feel his chest rise and fall against yours. You smile because you can feel the heat emanating off his skin. “Nope.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Luke laughs while he fusses with the way your shirt sits on your shoulders. His fingers trace over where your name is inked on the fabric. “You going to give me more than one word answers?”

Your mouth runs a little dry when you remember he doesn’t have a shirt on. You poke at him and the little bit of sunburn on his shoulders you know will turn into a tan soon. “No.”

His mouth pulls up at the sides. “Okay.”

You groan when he throws you over his shoulder and gets up from his uncomfortable little chair. Luke spins you around a bit, giving you a 360 degree view of his room before he tosses you onto the bed. He yawns but doesn’t lay down, just smiles down at you.

“What’re you doing?” you ask. You hook your leg around his so you can drag him closer, and he just grins, amused.

“Nothing much.”

The bed shifts when he settles over you, one of his knees between your legs and the other digging into the space next to your left thigh.

Words die out quickly — mostly because you’re busy slipping your tongue into Luke’s mouth. But the coherent thoughts only leave your head when he takes your waist in one hand and reminds you just how much he likes you too.