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- Lovejoy (Band) (3)
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Ash didn’t move away. He stayed there, looming over James, eyes glinting in mischief. “I like winding you up,” he admitted casually, almost as if it was nothing.
James blinked, surprised at the honesty threaded into the tease. The shift in the air was immediate, subtle but undeniable. The banter stilled, leaving behind a heavier atmosphere.
“You’re an arsehole,” James said finally, voice quiet.
“It takes one to know one,” Ash shot back, smirking, though there was an edge to it now.
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I'm sick of meaning, I just wanna hold you by SootStar
Fandoms: Lovejoy (Band), Video Blogging RPF
25 Aug 2025
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Wilbur is depressed and jerks off. That’s literally it I have no ideas of what to write
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This chapter includes topics such as: self harming and manipulation. If you’re sensitive to those topics please do not read.
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Randal tries to make the boys cut themselves to prove loyalty. Charlie does it, Tommy panics, and Will steps in to protect him. Will does the ritual calmly, and Tommy follows him out, still scared but trusting him.
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“You could always sleep on the floor,” he teased, voice soft and nervous.
Ash didn’t move away. Instead, he leaned in, close enough that his lips almost brushed Wilbur’s ear.
“I’m not sleeping on that floor. Not when I’ve got a spot right here.”A shiver ran down Wilbur’s spine at the low, intimate tone. His chest tightened. He could feel Ash’s body shift again, a movement that brought their legs even closer together, the space between them now nonexistent.
Wilbur’s heart skipped. He wanted to say something clever or sarcastic, something that would push this strange, unspoken energy away. But his voice caught in his throat, his lips almost grazing Ash’s skin as he turned his head.
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"You’re staring," Ash teased, though his voice lacked the sharpness of his usual banter.
Wilbur’s lips twitched into a faint smile. "Maybe I am."
The air inside the car thickened, a palpable charge crackling between them. Wilbur didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned in further, his fingers tightening slightly on Ash’s thigh, the warmth of his hand seeping through the fabric. His eyes were locked on Ash’s, the lazy smirk that often played on his lips giving way to something deeper, something needier.

