#and sister daniel of course!…

[danandphilplay]

Danandphilplay what did YOU think of the show? :D

hiii iskie thanks for asking!! i thought it was really great! a good balance of laughing at the past and some more serious conversations about what being closeted and famous is like. very interesting perspective from dnp!

i really loved seeing all the old phan edits like the wedding theory ones i haven’t seen those in soooooo long but man they were everywhere especially the b&w one of them in suits holding hands and walking. AND THE TATINOF TOUR BED hilarious the pause when i think phil was confirming it was true

i thought the diorama bit at the start was really cool too. i watch pj and sophie occasionally and it always blows me away how talented they are. i really like art and creating things generally and pj and sophie just make perfect content for that just the best combination of making things yourself mixed with interesting creative people.

i think on reflection the gaming channel rebrand makes sense after seeing the tour. it definitely felt like saying some unspoken things and wrapping up the past and moving forward. i wasn’t sure because of how it was advertised/how people talked about it if the focus on parasocial relationships would be overly negative. but i feel like the balance was right for the show

i think overwhelmingly i feel that dnp are both very comfortable now or at least they just seem excited to be doing what they do. dan especially seems a lot more content now. on that note as well it’s very obvious how much dan enjoys performing in terms of being super theatrical so thats fun to watch! and phil always nails the dry aloof kind of humour i think! it was nice to hear from phil how he felt about the hiatus too. honestly it’s interesting that the hiatus gave them that chance to grow individually away from the dnp brand and now we’re returning to what feels like less of a brand version of dnp,,, obviously still a brand but it just feels different now

if they do go ahead with rebranding dapg then im excited to see what that will look like. i love them playing games but honestly i prefer longer game videos over lots of short ones. so if they decide to do other kinds of videos then i won’t mind that at all. im just very curious to know what will be next?

also sidenote i was impressed by how many viewers the afterparty had! i know dnp have said before they didn’t expect the big reaction their return got but i think they underestimate how many people grew up watching them. there’s so many casual dnp watchers or people who stopped keeping up with them. so im interested with the rebrand if that will bring any of that part of the audience back

[evermorepeyton]

“i hear there’s a formula 1 fan fiction going around at the moment” — phil lester, 2024

[pynkhues]

Lestat is sitting on a pillow in the next shot. I mean, come on!

Anon!!!! I have watched this scene 1,200 times and still somehow never noticed that they straight up have him lower back / butt supported on a bolster cushion. I've lightened a screencap to share, and:

Yeah, haha.

[chronicallyonlinediaries]

trying to be productive and catch up on my chemistry notes while waiting for the stream feels like sitting next to a beautiful woman and trying not to look at her

[coccoador]

Ivy and Daniel, both, already contain all the elements of the Golden Trio(Harry's bravery/heroic difficulties, Ron's empathy/cynicism, Hermione's intelligence/annoyance.), but I think their family itself may have taken some ideas from the Dumbledores. The silver-haired Ivy (old Dumbledore, Albedo)'s family has problems with girls who have difficulties in handling their magical powers. The auburn haired Daniel (young Dumbledore, Rubedo)'s family has problems with some family members being denounced as criminals.

[dnpstardust]

🎞️| 🖤🤍

[flourescencia]

I kid you not I didn't know people were watching iwtv and coming out of that fascinated charmed and obsessed with daniel molloy above anyone else meaning they thought he was the most interesting out of anyone; until possibly months ago like I had never even contemplated that people like this existed I don't think my mind knew that it was possible. we are truly a lost society

[unproduciblesmackdown]

more info, via a couple of reviews:

"Is this the best, most exhilarating, most close-to-perpetual dancing ever to grace the Goodspeed Opera House stage?

It certainly could be.

The new stage adaptation of “Summer Stock” at the East Haddam theater has plenty to recommend it in terms of the canny script and the hummable songs. But it’s the dancing that leaves the biggest impression.

The show is jam-packed with choreography from Donna Feore, who also directs, that is thrillingly executed by the cast.

We’re talking: Gravity-defying kicks. Head-spinning turns. Male dancers lifting and tossing and catching the female ones. It runs the gamut from Cossack-dance athleticism to soft shoe grace, tap precision to Lindy hop energy.

How the cast manages to sing after executing these (literally) breathtaking numbers, I have no idea.

And how do they make it through two performances on some days? Amazing.

Also amazing: the fact that they do all this on Goodspeed’s small stage without making the space feel cramped.

So, yes, the dancing is phenomenal. But there’s more to the show than that.

This stage version of “Summer Stock” — which is enjoying its world premiere at Goodspeed — is inspired by the 1950 MGM movie starring Judy Garland and Gene Kelly. Writer Cheri Steinkellner, though, has reimagined the piece in many ways, making it better, stronger and propelled by a more modern sensibility. (Steinkellner’s writing credits range from “Cheers” to the Broadway adaptation of “Sister Act.”)

The foundational story, though, remains the same: A no-nonsense young woman named Jane is trying to save her family farm. Her actress sister (named Gloria in the version at Goodspeed) brings her compatriots to the farm to rehearse a show. Jane first spars with and then starts falling for Gloria’s beau Joe, the production’s director.

Steinkellner has also changed up the score, to great effect. While some tunes from the movie remain, she has pulled others that are in the public domain (such as “Accentuate the Positive,” “Paper Moon” and “It Had to Be You”), and she has woven them perfectly into various plot points and important emotional moments.

As director, Feore makes sure the whole enterprise has a dynamic spirit. It’s a story and a production that brims with optimism and cheerfulness.

Leading the cast is Corbin Bleu, who became famous with his work in “High School Musical” and has gone on to star in several Broadway shows, as Joe. Bleu is a true, and truly talented, triple-threat. He has a warm, welcoming presence as an actor; he also brings an authority to Joe so you believe he’s someone the actors respect and will follow. Bleu’s singing is strong and lustrous, and his dancing — particularly his tremendous tap ability — is … wow.

Arguably the biggest scene-stealer here is Veanne Cox, as the wealthy, snooty owner of huge property surrounding Jane’s. The way she trills dialogue can turn anything into a punchline. She can wave her arms about as her character repeats “l’amour” and generate audience laughs. When her character falls for the egoistic actor Montgomery Leach (played by J. Anthony Crane with Barrymore flair), Cox burbles with girlish romantic giddiness.

Danielle Wade does her own take on the Judy Garland role. She gives Jane a swagger and a tough façade that reveals a more human self during the course of the story. Wade’s most important feature is her voice, which is potent whether she’s finessing a ballad or powering through a big number. While she can’t compete with Garland’s renowned version of “Get Happy” (who could?), Wade does a good job in the number — choreographed and costumed in an homage to the original — that serves as the culmination of the production.

Arianna Rosario gets to play an interesting arc at Gloria. At first, Gloria seems to be a blithe, self-centered actress, but she later shows that she is quite the problem-solving producer. Rosario makes the transformation believable, as if Gloria is finally letting her real self come through.

The scenic design by Wilson Chin suggests the various elements of a Connecticut River Valley farm in the 1950s while still allowing room for the cast to burst into all of those big dance numbers. And the costume design by Tina McCartney provides a fun and functional take on country clothing of the era.

I will say that the second act could be tightened up (we don’t need to see so many beats of the rehearsal process), but, in total, this “Summer Stock” is sensational." [source]

(hooray for most directly explaining gloria's overall arc)

and the next review:

"A throwback to the golden age of Broadway and movie musicals, "Summer Stock" is a timeless, inspiring song-and-dance tale of good deeds, fairy tale showbiz, classic romance and backstage intrigue played out to such dazzling effect, you want to freeze frame it, take it home with you and watch it over and over again for pure fun and a let's-put-a-smile-on-your-face endorsement. This is Goodspeed Musicals at its best - old-fashioned musical entertainment designed to deliver by the bucket's load, stir the senses, rhythmically intoxicate you and dance up a continual storm of good cheer that's guaranteed to leave you breathless.

Animated. Airborne. Magical. Sweet-natured. Fresh-faced. Dance happy. It's all here, wrapped up in shiny gold ribbons and signature colors that complement and complete the picture with a technicolor flourish, a big bang and an internal logic that flows with appropriate style, stamina, full command and intent.

Adapted to the stage by Cheri Steinkellner, "Summer Stock" replays that popular let's- put-on-a-show conceit where everything rests of the big opening night, the box-office intake, the big kiss between the leading man and the leading lady and how a complete unknown saves the day right before the final fadeout. Here, struggling Connecticut farmer Jane Falbury decides to let her actress sister Abigail and her actor friends from New York use the family barn as a rehearsal space for their brand-new Broadway bound musical in exchange for doing the daily farm chores to raise enough money to keep the business from going completely under. One slight problem. During rehearsals, Jane finds herself falling for the show's handsome director, Joe Ross, who, happens to be engaged to the show's leading lady - her sister Abigail.

Staging "Summer Stock," director Donna Feore ("Chicago," "Billy Elliot," "A Chorus Line"), who doubles as choreographer, creates a loveable, intoxicating show that reels you in, grabs hold of you until the final curtain and lets you fall in love with every little detail, surprise, plot twist, joke, visual gag, one-liner and tilt of her jolly agenda while she articulates every element of this musical story with thrust, warmth, spin and splendid articulation. Directorially, she pulls it off spectacularly. No wrong moves here as "Summer Stock" catches fire with a spark, a gusto, a shine and a 1950s mentality infused with plenty of imagination, originality, style and flair.  More importantly, the production never loses sight of its origins, its functional plotting and its love of musicals of yesteryear despite well-intentioned doses of kitsch, takeaway humor, giddy backchat and story arcs right out of the MGM library of backlot moviemaking.  Feore, free spirit that she is, fuels the musical with a sharpened wit and sentiment that works especially well as does her decision to let "Summer Stock" remain rooted in the period from whence it came in terms of staging, development, expression and interaction. 

Moving from screen to stage," "Summer Stock" retains only four songs from the 1950 MGM musical. The addition of several new songs to the original version of the score turns the two-act musical into more of a showstopping event and adds clarity, luster and vintage spin to its already proven material, its let's launch into another song and dance routine blueprint and its firm grasp on characterization, story evolution and its happily ever after conclusion. At Goodspeed, there are 28 important, recognizable, smartly placed musical numbers. They are:  "Get Happy," "Happy Days Are Here Again/I Want to Be Happy," "Accentuate the Positive," "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows," "Always," "Always (reprise)," "It's Only a Paper Moon," "The Best Things in Life Are Free," "Dig for Your Dinner," "Me and My Shadow," "Howdy Neighbor, Happy Harvest," "Red Hot Mama," " 'Til We Meet Again," "You Wonderful You," "June Night," "Some of These Days," "Joe's Dance," "I'm Always Chasing Rainbows (reprise)," "It All Depends on You," "Always (reprise)," "Everybody Step," "Lucky Day," "How Ya Gonna Keep 'Em Down on the Farm," "Hinky-Dinky Parlez Vouz," "It Had to Be You," "Get Happy (reprise)" and "You Wonderful You (Finale)."

Musical director Adam Souza ("42nd Street," "Cabaret," "Next to Normal," "A Grand Night for Singing," "Because of Winn Dixie," "Rags") grabs hold of the "Summer Stock" score and allows it to breathe, gesticulate, excite, envelop and rhapsodize with the golden age sentimentality of MGM movie musicals and the timeless, larger-than-life spirit of old Broadway. Here, every song matters. Every song is important. Every song travels down memory lane. Every song is tuned to the max with sweet, centered, warm-heartedness. Every song fulfills its intended purpose. All of this is complemented by the strong, flavorful sound of Souza's orchestral team, all of whom share his tremendous sense of theatricality, musical interlude, impassioned communication and delight of the actual musical itself.  They are: David Uhl (bass), Sal Ranniello (percussion), Liz Baker Smith (reed 1), Andrew Studenski (reed II), Travis Higgins III (trumpet) and Matthew Russo (trombone). As with other Goodspeed musicals, Souza doubles as conductor and keyboardist. As "Summer Stock" zings and pops, pretty music every song unfolds with a contagious orchestral musical glow, matched by the splendid musicality of the entire cast who address the catchy, homespun music and lyrics with perfect harmony, rhythm, phrasing and nostalgic commitment. These elements heighten the on-stage mode of the production, its progression from Act I to Act II, its send offs, its pastiche and its electrifying, barn-raising influence and thwack.

As with any big stage musical, choreography is key to a production's success, its fluidity of form, its artistic expression and its accompanying dance routines. Here, Feore, as choreographer, gives "Summer Stock" a highly personal touch of invigoration and speedy excitement that is tipped and generated with wonderfully elongated inspiration, stamina and determination. This is star quality choreography that peaks, shines and tilts with clever build ups, catchy dance steps and bold, concentrated rhythms, moves and beats that joyfully celebrate 1950's musicals in all their technicolor glory.   As storyteller and dance interpreter, she brings great dimension and scope to the piece using techniques, styles, descriptions and an enriched canvas of thoughts and ideas that make their mark most engagingly. Everything that happens on the Goodspeed Musicals stage has been beautifully blocked, rehearsed and staged with such thrust and individuality, no two dance numbers are alike. In fact, once "Summer Stock" catches fire, there's no stopping it.  Creating a freshly minted fusion of moods, tableaus, lifts, twirls and swirls, Feore pays homage to the actual vintage look and mindset of the musical, its dance-friendly art form and its free-flowing feel of excitement and exhilaration. Hands pop. Arms move heavenward. Dancers smile and glisten as they passionately ignite into joyful visions of sweetness, passion, frenzy and syncopation. Everyone is lost in the moment illustrating the traditions, the conscience and the power of musical theatre, giving and getting the most out of Feore's phenomenal, ovation-worthy choreography. Trained, drilled and confident, they each get a chance to shine - and shine they do - all making strong impressions that will live long in memory.

Making his Goodspeed Musicals debut, Corbin Bleu, as Joe Ross, a character originated by Gene Kelly in the 1950 film version, creates a "Wow!" song-and-dance-man factor chock full of charm, personality, self-confidence and full-beam, champagne delightness that astounds, cajoles and sparkles with leading man gait and luxury like no other. No matter what he does, he's a proverbial triple-threat (i.e., a player who excels at acting, singing and dancing) who makes everything that happens on stage feel fresh, spontaneous, real, raw and very much in the moment. It's in his eyes. It's in his moves. It's in his expressions. Exhibiting a sweet, contagious rapport that extends far beyond the footlights, it's the performance of the year and one that Bleu exudes with a Gene Kelly/Fred Astaire aura of showbiz savvy, knockabout whimsy, graceful athleticism and sterling encapsulation. "Joe's Dance," a solo dance number in Act II performed by Bleu only furthers that notion.

In the role of Jane Falbury, a role made famous by Judy Garland in the original "Summer Stock" MGM musical, Danielle Wade lights up the Goodspeed Musicals stage with a breezy, intuitive musical comedy performance of real warmth and spirit that is a constant joy to watch. Veanne Cox, cast in the role of the wickedly devious Connecticut farming magnate Margaret Wingate, is jaw-dropping brilliant, using humor, music, dance and melodrama in divinely daft and glorious ways that prompt applause and laughter whenever she's in the limelight. It's a scene-stealing performance so seamlessly entrenched in glee and fiery abandon, Cox, would be the ideal choice to play narcissistic Broadway diva Dee Dee Allen in the 2024 summer presentation of "The Prom" at Playhouse in Park in West Hartford. I'll personally deliver the contract. Other memorable performances are delivered by Arianna Rosario (Gloria Falbury), Stephen Lee Anderson (Henry "Pop" Falbury), Gilbert L. Bailey II (Phil Filmore), Will Roland (Orville Wingate) and J. Anthony Crane (Montgomery Leach). A musical escape brimming with delightful songs, engaging performances and full-beam dance numbers, "Summer Stock" is not only a bubbly tonic for theatergoers of all ages, but one that kicks nostalgia into high gear with uncomplicated bliss, fizz and vintage sparkle. It sings. It dances. It pops. It dazzles. Like "42nd Street" which played Goodspeed Musicals last season, it overflows with Kelly/Astaire lightness, punch and precision, sunny vibes and well-played exactitude. The energy displayed here is fast and furious with first-night exhilaration and thrill paired especially well with Corbin Bleu's charming star turn, Danielle Wade's joyous "Get Happy" abandon and Veanne Cox's well-prepped, icy cool villain. This is musical theatre of the highest order - infectious, irresistible, glorious. Its leave-your-troubles-at-the-door/Let's-put-on-a-show mentality accelerates with sparkle and cherry pie goodness. And boy, do we need it now!" [source]

(the reference to jane's sister abigail uses the film's names: abigail becomes gloria in this production, which is the name of abigail's actor in the film, which also mirrors how the role of herb is now phil, also the name of herb's actor in the film)

(also shoutout to providing A Full, Chronological List Of Songs. noting that according to another interview, intermission would be between "you wonderful you" and "june night")

[p1girlfriend]

off limits – LN4

content warning: tension, sneaking around, forbidden feelings, Danny being very brother-coded, implied spice pairing: Lando Norris x Ricciardo!Sister!reader

“I’m serious,” Daniel said, pointing a half-eaten protein bar at you like it was a weapon. “No drivers.”

You rolled your eyes, half-laughing. “I work in PR, not the damn pit wall.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, dropping onto the couch next to you. “You’re too smart, too pretty, too you. And I’ve seen what this life does to relationships.”

“Like your own love life is thriving,” you muttered.

He ignored that. “Just promise me. No drivers.”

You smiled sweetly, fingers crossed behind your back. “Sure, Dan.”

But it was already too late.

Because two weeks ago, Lando had knocked on your hotel room door after media day — just to “borrow toothpaste.” And now? Now he was texting you under dinner tables. Now he was brushing past you in hospitality with his pinky grazing yours. Now he was waiting for you after team events, pulling you into quiet stairwells like he couldn’t breathe unless he was touching you.

And you couldn’t stop.

Even when you saw Daniel laughing with him over post-quali beers.

Even when Lando whispered, “He’d kill me if he knew.”

“Then don’t let him find out,” you whispered back.

The worst part? It wasn’t even just physical anymore. Not when Lando looked at you like you were his favorite place. Not when he said things like, “You make everything feel less insane.”

Not when he stayed after a shit race just to hold your hand in silence.

But of course, secrets don’t last in Formula 1.

It happened after Silverstone. You’d stayed behind, too obvious, too caught up in Lando’s grin as he pulled you into the back of the McLaren garage.

And Daniel saw.

You didn’t even hear him coming.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

You flinched. Lando turned around fast, guilt all over his face. “Dan—”

“You?” Daniel pointed at him, furious. “And you? Jesus Christ. I said no drivers!”

“I’m not just a driver,” Lando said quietly, standing between you. “Not with her.”

And that was the moment it all changed.

Because even though Daniel stormed off that night, slammed doors and swore for a week straight… he didn’t tell you to end it.

He just sighed one morning, eyes tired, and muttered, “Just don’t let him fuck it up.”

You smiled. “I won’t.”

But Lando already knew that. Because when it came to you, he’d never risk losing.

©p1girlfriend

[rosemaryhoney27]

Tiny Blades and Big Chaos”

aka: Danny vs. Damian: Politeness vs. Precision, Featuring Ghost Tricks and Sibling Rivalry

It was Alfred’s idea, of course.

“Master Daniel seems rather adept at handling himself,” he said, very reasonably. “A joint sparring session with Master Damian might help them… bond.”

Vlad had sputtered. “Bond? Bond over what? Hidden knives and bloodlust?!”

“Yes,” said Alfred, calm as ever. “Precisely.”

Wayne Manor Training Room, 9:00 AM

The Batkids lined the edges of the mat like kids waiting for recess drama. Jason brought popcorn. Tim had his tablet recording. Steph was live-texting Cass with updates. Dick had his camera ready and a big brother grin on his face like this is gonna be great.

Damian stood at the center of the mat, wooden sword in hand, the sharpness in his eyes making up for the lack of steel. “You are not a trained assassin,” he said flatly, glaring at Danny. “This will not be gentle.”

Danny smiled, still in his hoodie and sweats, holding a practice staff Alfred handed him. “That’s okay. I’m kinda hard to kill.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Bruce, from the sidelines, muttered to Vlad, “This’ll go fine.”

Vlad whispered back, “This is a war crime waiting to happen.”

Round One: Damian Attacks First

Damian moved like lightning—precise, deadly, fast. His wooden sword swung for Danny’s side, a feint to the legs, followed by a spinning strike meant to knock him off balance.

Danny vanished.

Literally. Vanished. A shimmer of light and he phased right through the blade like a friendly ghost playing tag.

“What—?!” Damian turned, just in time to catch Danny gently tapping his shoulder with the staff. “Tag.”

Steph: “OH MY GOD HE GHOSTED THROUGH IT—”

Jason: “Ten bucks says he phases through the floor next.”

Vlad: weeping in the corner “He does this all the time. You’re all just ENCOURAGING HIM.”

Round Two: Damian Gets Serious

“You are not using proper rules of engagement,” Damian growled.

“I’m literally just floating,” Danny said, upside down mid-air. “Not my fault physics loves me.”

“Fight me like a warrior!”

“Okay,” Danny said—and then let the staff drop.

He raised his hands, and a soft, eerie glow covered them. His feet touched the ground. The temperature dipped just a little. Shadows crept a little too long.

“Wanna go full-power?” he asked, still smiling, but something in his voice had changed.

Everyone shut up.

Damian grinned like a tiny feral goblin. “Yes.”

What Followed Could Not Be Legally Described As Training

To summarize:

Danny dodged a flying kick by phasing through a wall and reappearing behind Damian like a horror movie jump scare.

Damian managed to tag Danny across the ribs, earning a respectful, “Nice hit!”

Danny retaliated by sliding through the floor, then popping up behind Damian to ruffle his hair, making him scream in rage.

Cass showed up halfway through, said nothing, and started rating their moves out of 10.

Alfred brought out lemon water and towels like this was completely normal.

Bruce was watching with an expression that said, I need to update our supernatural sparring protocols.

At one point, Danny caught Damian mid-air (after a parkour wall run), gently set him down, and said, “I’m only going easy because Vlad said if I break a Wayne he loses custody.”

“Fight me properly or I will THROW YOU,” Damian roared, red-faced.

Danny giggled.

He giggled.

Afterwards

They were both sweaty, bruised, and grinning like maniacs. Damian sat on the bench, panting, sipping water with a glare that could melt titanium.

“That was acceptable,” he muttered. “You are chaotic and dishonorable. I approve.”

Danny wiped his face with a towel. “Thanks! You fight like my sister’s evil clone. High praise.”

“Can you teach me to phase through walls?”

“Only if you promise not to sneak up on people during 2 AM snack runs.”

“…No promises.”

Jason tossed Danny a granola bar. “Welcome to the family, baby ghost.”

Danny blinked. “Wait, you mean I passed?”

“You suplexed a grown man and survived Damian. You’re in.”

“Officially a Wayne now,” Steph said, taking a picture. “Smile!”

Danny grinned just as Vlad walked in with a cup of tea and despair on his face.

“I leave you alone for one hour. One! What happened?!”

Damian pointed dramatically. “He cheats.”

“He used no blade.”

“He walked through a wall!”

“He told the shadows to ‘wait their turn.’”

Vlad blinked. “That last one actually is new.”

Danny smiled. “It’s a learning environment, Uncle Vlad.”

[somnoir]

Down Bad in Distress - Part 3

Part 2 | Masterpost

"Daniel, I heard from CW that your children are moving here." Alfred said one day.

Everyone immediately pauses, except for Danny who was happily doing the cooking while Alfred served the food.

"Danny's kids?" Tim narrows his eyes, glancing back at Jason. "Danny?"

"Yeah? Oh, right! Dick, you didn't tell them?" Danny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Dick nervously laughs, "Slipped my mind. What's that about your kids?"

"Right, right. They didn't like being away from me all the time so they decided to move. I was hoping to enroll Ellie into Gotham Academy." Danny hums, serving Damian some vegan pancakes and patting the boy's head. "She'd be in your year, kid."

Damian scowls, swatting his hand away but it wasn't accompanied by the usual snark.

"And your son?" Dick asks, immediately being scolded by Alfred for talking while chewing.

"Dante takes a Mechanical Engineering course. It was harder for him to transfer since this would be his third year into it." Danny sighs, sounding a little tired just as he serves Bruce some coffee. "But my kid's stubborn as hell."

"How old are your children?" Bruce tilts his head, just as Danny swats away some dust of his shirt.

"Dan is 23 and Ellie is 15."

"Jason and Damian's age. Hm."

The aforementioned two immediately locked eyes, already mentally planning on tracking down the Fenton siblings. As per usual, Alfred beat them to it and quickly gave Danny an invitation.

"When are they arriving? I do hope that they can come for a meal." Alfred hums, patting Danny in the back.

"Today, actually!" Danny beams.

"You're not worried about your kids being in Gotham?" Steph asks, mouth still full. Danny doesn't even hesitate to pinch her sides when she does, making Stephanie yelp.

"My parents taught me and my sister how to fight at very young ages. My kids got the same treatment. Ellie has one hell of a right hook and Dan gets creative with whatever the hell he can use as a weapon." Danny snorts, "I got called by the principal once cause he stabbed someone with a pencil. Not that it wasn't deserved. My kid doesn't like it when people go after his friends."

"Gotham Material?" Duke asks.

"Gotham Material." Danny chuckles, "If a rogue attacks, my kids would go on with their day like nothing happened. Weird shit like that is normal back in Amity."

Ah, yes. The illusive amity park. Where everything is utterly strange. Tim still couldn't get a good background check on the small town in Illinois—a place that wasn't even marked on the fucking map.

"So..." Dick grins, "When do we get to meet them?"

Alfred clears his throat, "Would dinner suffice?"

Danny grins back, "I'll wrangle them here if I can."

The moment Bruce found out Danny had kids, something in his brain short-circuited. The knowledge alone was enough to make him reassess everything he thought he knew about his bodyguard, but hearing Danny talk about them? That was something else entirely.

Bruce had barely asked a question before Danny launched into a full-fledged monologue, his usual lazy grin stretching into something softer, brighter. Every word was laced with pride, every detail shared with the delight of a man who lived to brag about his kids.

In the span of two hours, Bruce learned more about Dante and Janelle Fenton than he knew about most people in his life.

Dante—the eldest—was a menace. An antisocial teenager with a violent streak that made Damian look like a well-adjusted honor student. Fights, trouble, a past full of missteps and regret. But Danny didn't speak about it with shame or frustration. No, he spoke with admiration, because Dante tried. He fought against his own nature, struggled to rein himself in, to be better for the people he loved.

"He’s a smart kid," Danny had said, his voice full of warmth. "Too smart. Built himself a motorcycle from scrap when he was sixteen—real Frankenstein's monster type of thing, but it runs better than my car."

Bruce had to physically stop himself from calling Jason right then and there, because if his second son found out a teenager had built the equivalent of the Batpod out of junk, he would never recover.

Then there was Janelle. Just as troublesome as her brother, but in an entirely different way. She wasn’t a fighter, at least not in the way Dante was. Her chaos was more... exploratory. She skipped class not out of defiance but because something else caught her interest. An adventurous child who saw a locked door and immediately wondered what was on the other side. A girl who thought parkour was a valid form of travel, who had given Danny a heart attack the first time he caught her flipping off rooftops like a circus performer—it reminded him of Dick when he was much younger.

"She stuck the landing, though," Danny had admitted, laughing. "I wanted to ground her forever, but I was also kinda impressed."

And the stars. Both of his kids loved the stars. Danny spoke of late-night stargazing like it was a sacred ritual, like tracing constellations in the night sky was an unbreakable bond between them. And despite the fact that Dante was technically an adult now, despite the fact that Janelle was a teenager with her own life and interests, Danny still spoke of them like they were his babies.

Bruce sat there and listened, absorbing every word. He asked questions because he wanted to know more, because watching Danny light up every time he got to talk about his kids was addicting.

It was attractive. Gods, it was attractive.

Danny Fenton loved his children unconditionally. Not just in the way he spoke of them but in the way he understood them. The way he knew them. There was no hesitance in his words, no uncertainty in their relationship. He knew their struggles, their strengths, their habits—he knew them in a way that made Bruce’s chest ache.

Because as much as he admired it, as much as he wanted to drown in the warmth of Danny’s love for his children, there was an ugly sliver of jealousy buried beneath it all.

Danny’s kids talked to him. They trusted him. There was no barrier, no invisible wall of hesitance between them.

Bruce had spent years trying to connect with his own children, trying to bridge the gaps that always seemed to widen no matter how hard he reached. He loved them with everything he had, but love alone had never been enough to stop them from pulling away.

Danny? Danny just had it. That easy, unquestionable bond. That foundation built on trust and understanding, not just duty or protection.

Bruce swallowed down the jealousy. He shoved it into the part of his mind where he buried all his regrets and let himself be smitten instead. Because damn it, responsible and loving fathers were attractive, and watching Danny Fenton light up over his kids was devastating.

Bruce isn’t surprised that after hearing Danny gush about his kids, he feels compelled—inspired, really—to introduce his own children to the Fentons properly. What does surprise him is how little convincing it takes to get his entire family to cooperate.

By the time he makes his decision, every single one of them is already waiting in the foyer, dressed, prepared, and standing with an air of near-military precision.

Bruce narrows his eyes, crossing his arms as he surveys them. "I wasn’t expecting compliance from any of you."

Damian, adjusting his hair in the reflection of a polished vase, merely scoffs. "Tt. You underestimate us, Father. We cannot afford to embarrass ourselves in front of Daniel’s family."

Jason, standing beside him, is… straightening his jacket? Running a hand through his hair like he's actually making an effort to look presentable? Damian barely spares him a glance before adding, "Todd, don’t mess this up. His eldest is the same age as you and Cassandra."

"Wouldn’t dream of it, demon brat," Jason grumbles, rolling his shoulders like he’s psyching himself up for a job interview.

Bruce is still processing this unusual display of readiness when Alfred arrives, a knowing, fond smile settling on his face as he takes in the scene.

"I must say," Alfred begins, hands clasped behind his back, "I am quite proud that none of you needed prompting. Daniel will appreciate the effort."

"You can count on us, Alfie!" Dick declares, beaming.

Steph and Tim follow up with matching thumbs-ups, their grins full of mischief but their intentions sincere.

"We'll be on our best behavior!"

Alfred simply nods, clearly amused but unwilling to acknowledge it aloud. "Very well—" Then a knock at the door interrupts, and his eyes flick toward the entrance. "Ah. It seems Daniel has arrived."

There’s a split second of calm before chaos erupts.

Bruce watches as his children all lunge for the door at once, elbowing, shoving, and stepping on each other’s feet in a desperate attempt to reach it first.

Alfred, with decades of experience in dealing with their nonsense, doesn’t bother reacting beyond stepping forward and opening the door himself. As soon as he does, he turns and pins the children with a look of utter disappointment.

The effect is immediate.

Every single one of them freezes mid-scramble, jerking upright like misbehaving students caught by a strict headmaster. With impressive speed, they fall into an eerily well-practiced formation, arranging themselves with the kind of poise that makes them indistinguishable from their usual gala appearances.

Bruce sighs. No. That won’t do.

Danny doesn’t do the whole stiff, overly formal thing. If they meet him like this, he’ll just laugh and call them out for it.

With a subtle wave of his hand, Bruce signals for them to adjust.

In an instant, their postures relax. Smiles become more natural—real rather than rehearsed. The atmosphere shifts from forced courtesy to genuine warmth.

Good.

Because if there’s one thing Bruce has learned, it’s that Danny Fenton can read through bullshit alarmingly well.

The first thing Bruce notices is that Danny isn’t in his usual suit. No high-collared, sharp-lined professionalism. Instead, he’s wearing something casual but still presentable—comfortable. It makes him look softer in a way Bruce rarely gets to see. More relaxed. More himself.

There’s a grin on his face, wide and easy, and a warmth in his eyes that Bruce has only ever seen in Alfred when the family finally gathers together after too long apart.

“Oh, you’re all here!” Danny laughs—laughs—and Bruce has to physically stop himself from reacting because—shit. That sounds good. No, not just good—amazing.

And then—

“My kids—Janelle, no! Do not chase after the turkey, and don’t pet Ace without permission! We are not kidnapping the dog—we have Cujo!"

Bruce barely has a moment to process that before Damian stiffens beside him, squaring his shoulders like he’s preparing to throw hands whoever is trying to steal their dog and turkey?

“Sorry,” Danny says sheepishly, stepping fully inside. “She likes dogs a little too much. Dante here is more of a cat person.”

Bruce doesn’t even have time to respond before Danny reaches back and pulls someone into the manor.

And—what the fuck?

For a split second, Bruce genuinely thinks Danny has somehow duplicated himself. But no. Not quite.

It’s another Fenton. Just younger. Scowlier. Broodier.

Dante Fenton is just as tall as his father, just as broad-shouldered and built. But where Danny is all easy grins and shameless affection, Dante is—well, Bruce can only describe it as Jason if he had a twin that was worse.

His arms are crossed, his expression set into a resting bitch face so perfectly executed that Bruce has seen lesser versions of it on Danny himself.

“This is my eldest, Dante—smile,” Danny practically hisses, pinching his son’s side.

Dante immediately hisses back like a feral animal, shooting his father a glare before half-assing the most reluctant, teeth-baring grimace Bruce has ever seen.

Bruce is so close to laughing.

But before he can even comment, there’s the sound of something small tearing across the yard, followed by—

“Ellie, come back here!”

Danny barely has time to sigh before bolting back outside, disappearing for only a second before returning—this time, dragging yet another Fenton into the house.

Bruce blinks. Another one.

This one’s smaller. Female. But still unmistakably a Fenton.

“This raccoon is Janelle,” Danny introduces, exasperated.

“I’m not a raccoon!” Janelle yells, pouting hard enough to make even Damian look impressed.

“You might as well be!” Danny huffs, already brushing off the dirt and grime clinging to her jeans, muttering to himself as he adjusts her hoodie and makes sure she’s not too disheveled. “Sorry,” he murmurs again, glancing up at Bruce like he’s worried he’s making a mess just by existing.

Bruce doesn’t even think before stepping forward, automatically ushering the Fentons further inside.

“No need,” he assures, as quickly and firmly as possible. “You’ve seen my kids, Danny. We have Steph.”

“Hey!”

Bruce barely registers Stephanie’s indignation because, frankly, he’s far too busy being weak over this whole situation.

Timothy Wayne-Drake has met a lot of people who love their parents. Some to a reasonable degree. Some to a concerning one. But he has never met anyone as downright possessive of their father as the Fenton siblings.

At first, he thought Dante and Janelle—sorry, Ellie—were just the skittish type. You know, new place, new people, a little wary of the freakin’ Waynes (which, fair). But, uh. No. That is not what’s happening here.

They are, quite literally, guarding Danny.

They don’t let him stay with Bruce for too long. They don’t let Danny play around with the rest of the Wayne kids unsupervised. There’s always one of them around. Always watching.

At first, it’s just funny. Like, ha-ha, protective kids, whatever. But then Tim starts realizing—

Dante and Ellie Fenton have instantly decided to be at least a little hostile to every single Wayne in the building.

Except Alfred. Because, obviously, everyone likes Alfred.

“So… Erm…” Duke, brave soul that he is, awkwardly tries to break the ice, clearly very aware of Ellie’s piercing blue eyes lasering into his soul. “I was just wondering why you two decided to move. I mean…”

“Oh, that’s simple!” Ellie laughs. Cute.

Then she grins. Not cute.

Sharp teeth. Way too sharp. Like her dad’s.

“Dad was away for too long. We didn’t like that.” Her grin widens. “And besides, Dad seems to be okay with staying in Gotham long term. Might as well move too.”

…Yeah, okay, that was definitely a threat.

There’s something in the way she says it. Something in the undertone.

Like she blames them. Like she’s implying they are the reason her father was gone for so long.

Tim resists the urge to raise his hands in surrender.

Meanwhile, Dante says nothing.

Which, honestly? Probably for the best. Ellie is friendly at least—sweet, in a way that would be reassuring if she didn’t just casually drop the most unsettling offhanded comments.

Dante, though? Dante is just vibing.

With Jason.

In the corner.

Where neither of them is speaking.

And Tim isn’t sure why that’s worse, but it is.

"Where are you guys staying at? Danny’s penthouse, or did you get a house?"

Steph plops into the seat beside Ellie, casually pulling out Uno—the game of friendship-ending grudges and betrayal.

"Jason crashed there once," she adds. "He still won’t tell us why."

Dante freezes. Stiffens visibly as he turns to Jason. His eyes narrow, analyzing. Jason immediately reacts in kind.

For a solid minute, neither of them says a word. Just—silent eye contact.

Then, like some kind of telepathic dude code agreement, Dante nods—approvingly.

Jason hums, looking pleased with that, and then just…turns back to the TV.

What the hell was that?

"Same place," Ellie huffs, like her brother didn’t just have a whole unspoken conversation with Jason. Then she perks up. "Oh, which one of you is in my year at Gotham Academy?"

Everyone, immediately and without hesitation, gestures to Damian.

"Demon Brat," Tim says, speaking for the masses.

Damian scowls, clutching Titus like the dog is his last anchor to sanity. Which, fair. Mostly because Ace—the traitor—has already defected, happily nestling into Ellie’s lap like she handcrafted him from scratch.

Ellie narrows her eyes at Damian, then grins. Wide. Too wide.

"Is that a katana?"

The room stills.

Every single person whips their head toward the katana Damian absolutely does not go anywhere without.

Then, hesitantly, they look back at Ellie.

Who has already stood up and is calmly approaching Damian like she isn’t about to start something.

"May I?" she asks, stretching a hand out.

Tim makes a mental note: this one is dangerous.

"Ellie," Dante finally speaks, voice flat but exasperated.

Damian snarls, holding the sword closer. "What makes you think I’d let you touch my blade?"

Oh, she’s smug now. That’s never good.

"I was in Japan for three months when I was twelve," she says, all nonchalant. "Met a lot of interesting people. Learned how to use and maintain katanas during that time."

Damian squints. "Prove it. How does one properly maintain a katana?"

Ellie tilts her head, almost like she’s insulted.

"You start with uchiko, obviously," she says. "Cotton ball, light taps, no rubbing. Clears out the old oil and dust. Then you use a nuguigami cloth—special cloth, not just any cloth—to wipe it down before reapplying the choji oil with an abura nugui cloth. Not too much. Just enough to coat. And for sharpening, you start with a low grit whetstone, move up gradually, and never—never—go for a high grit too early unless you want to ruin the whole edge."

She smirks. "That good enough for you?"

Damian stares.

Tim recognizes that stare. That’s the oh no, I accidentally respect this person stare.

Horrifying.

Bruce and Danny return just in time to witness what should be a nightmare scenario—Ellie handling Damian’s katana like it’s an extension of her own arm.

Damian, to the horror of everyone involved, is right next to her, calmly discussing proper forms and optimal grips like he wasn’t about to stab her five minutes ago.

Tim resists the urge to check if hell has frozen over. Give Constantine a call and everything.

Bruce, naturally, hones in on Danny with that same soft look he thinks no one notices. Gross. He clocks that shit immediately and blanches.

"Your daughter knows how to handle a katana?" Bruce asks, voice way too fond for what should be a concerned question.

Danny, like an absolute menace, doesn’t even blink. "Both of my kids like swords. Ellie just prefers the lighter and faster ones. Dante likes zweihanders and claymores." He waves a dismissive hand. Like this is normal dad talk and not insane assassin lore drop. "Never understood why you like heavy blades, though."

Dante, without missing a beat, defensively shoots back, "They just feel balanced in my hand, okay?"

Tim files that away under: Reasons to Stay on Dante’s Good Side.

Bruce, still doing the gross fond smile thing, tilts his head. "Did you teach them?"

Danny smirks. "I wish. Got a friend who trained me when I was younger. Dante pissed him off just to be taught, and Ellie followed by annoying him until he caved." He shakes his head, sighing like a put-upon father and not a man casually revealing that his kids harassed someone into giving them weapons training. "Least of the crazy shit they’ve done."

Tim immediately clocks the way Dick’s entire being lights up.

"Oh, do tell," Dick grins, leaning in.

Danny, like an absolute maniac, just shrugs and says, completely deadpan:

"Ellie once snuck out in the middle of the night, went missing for a week, and then I found her in Russia, fist-fighting an assassin just last year."

The room freezes.

Tim can physically hear the record scratch in his brain.

Danny, unbothered, continues, "Dante blew up my godfather’s car when he was about to open it."

Tim slowly turns his head toward the two Fenton siblings.

Who are grinning. The same grin. The same sharp, predatory flash of color in their definitely-not-normal blue eyes.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Tim knew Danny wasn’t human. That was accounted for.

Unfortunately, what wasn’t accounted for was the fact that Danny’s kids were also very much not human.

…He needs more caffeine for this.

[no-144444]

older- d.ricciardo

꩜ summary: maybe you're both older than before, but you're happy, and that's what matters

꩜ pairing: husband! dad! daniel ricciardo x fem! wife! mom! reader

꩜ a/n: every time there's an american race i'm going to suggest preparing for a lot of danny riccy bc i miss him (especially when cota comes around)

Daniel’s back aches when he wakes up, and his moustache and hair is greying a little. That’s how he knew he was getting older. He was only 50, but he felt it. Every bit of it. 

And he wondered how you didn’t. Granted, you were a bit younger, only 43, but still. You basically looked the same way you did when you were 19. When he first fell in love with you. Sure, there were a few more creases by your eyes and maybe some greys were popping up, but in his eyes, you were the same. 

“Dad! Freddie told mom to fuck off!” Harry, your second oldest son, came rushing in the door, his school books in hand, an animated expression on his face. Harry had Daniel’s unruly hair, but your quiet demeanor. He was good in school, good in sports, and focused hard on what he wanted. He didn’t want to race like his dad (much to both of your delights), and he set his sights on directing. He was passionate, smart, and ridiculously good at surfing. He could go toe to toe, even with his old man, and would always win. It was impressive. He was also a bit of a tattle-tale when it came to getting his twin brother, Freddie, in trouble. Daniel couldn’t fault him though, he loved him too much. 

Daniel was on dinner duty, wearing his (stupidly hilarious) ‘kiss the chef’ apron as the delicious smells of steak and fries (and tiramisu for dessert) filled the kitchen. Since his time as a stay-at-home-dad commenced, he had become a passionate cook. He loved trying out new recipes, messing with flavours and cuisines, and of course, always making you his test subject. He whipped his head around to his son, a shocked expression on his face. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” his voice was low and dangerous and his eyes met yours the second you walked in the door. You shook your head, a frustrated expression on your face. Freddie looked guilty, but unrelenting, as all teenagers were. He turned to Freddie, handing the spatula to Harry, who took over steak-duty, listening to his twin get berated. Freddie also shared Daniel’s unruly hair, they were identical twins after all, but he kept it cleanly cut (speaking of that, he really should remind Harry to get his cut). He was a bit more tan than Harry, and he was always a bit of a trouble maker. Again though, Daniel could’t fault him, he loved him too much. But he certainly could fault Freddie for telling the woman he loved (and the woman who birthed Freddie) to fuck off. “What did you say to your mother?” he demanded. 

“Dad-” He silenced him with a look, it was going to be an excuse, and he knew it. “I’m sorry,” he turned to you, but you were already busy grabbing the plates and setting the table. You set the last plate down, all eyes on you. You looked up, staring into your son's apologetic eyes. “I was being a dick-”

“Little ears!” Harry reminded, covering his sister, Maeve’s ears. She’d walked in, clinging to her brother’s leg as a greeting. 

“Sorry,” Freddie repeated. “That wasn’t right mom,” he confessed. You sighed and walked over to him, hugging him. He was already taller than you, and only 17. Part of you wanted to let Daniel chew him out for being such a prick, but you understood that exams were coming up right at the same moment his rugby finals were on, and he had a lot of pressure on his shoulders. Yes, he was a dick, but he was your son. And sadly, that meant you loved him, and saw him as that little brunette kid who cried every time you had to leave for work. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” you huffed and he nodded. “I’m your mom, I’m on your side. I’m not trying to be mean, I just need you to think about your future Freds.” 

He nodded again, knowing you were right from the start. “I know,” he agreed. “I am. It just… stresses me.”

You shrugged. “That’s ok. But it’s not okay to take it out on me or your brother.”

“What did you do to your brother?” Daniel asked, and Freddie gulped. Harry held out his forearm, showing off a pretty impressive bruise. Daniel’s eyes went wide. “Fuck’s sake Freddie,” he cursed under his breath, pulling off his apron. Harry huffed again, covering Maeve’s ears. “What are you doing that for?” 

He didn’t have an answer. 

“Apologise to your brother, now,” you demanded. “And we’ll talk more about this later, alright? If you can’t start figuring out what’s up, we're going to have to have some serious conversations,” your tone was strict but caring, and the parenting part of Daniel was in awe. He was in awe of you all the time, but watching you be so good with your kids was just something else. “Maeve!” you called, kneeling down to pick her up as she ran to you. Freddie walked over and apologised to Harry, who accepted it. Maeve looked a lot more like you, and she was just 6. You carried her on your hip as you made your way over to Daniel, a flirtatious smirk on your lips. He smirked right back, his hands finding your ass as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your lips. Both Harry and Freddie cringed, but you just chuckled, used to his antics by now. 

“Missed you today,” he admitted, his voice low. 

“Oh yeah?” you questioned, smirking. Then your eyes softened with your smile. “Missed you too,” you admitted. “Excited for dinner.” 

“Yeah dad, these look good to me,” Harry announced, grabbing his attention. 

Daniel turned back to the grill and nodded. “Good shout Haz,” he smiled, his hands on his son’s shoulders. “You get ‘em onto a plate and I’ll finish up the veg. Fred,” he called, grabbing his eldest twin’s attention. “Call your sisters down please?” 

Freddie walked to the edge of the stairs and shouted. “Liv! Rhea!” 

“Coming!” Liv shouted back. 

“Oh yeah, Connor is over tonight,” Daniel wiggled his eyebrows at you and you raised yours. “Finally making the effort, I see.” 

 “It took you about 3 months to meet my parents, they’ve been dating for three weeks,” You chuckled and hit his chest playfully, Maeve speaking to Harry over your shoulder. 

Daniel shrugged, a cheeky smirk on his face. God, he was so pretty. That stupid backwards cap and pretty eyes, and that borderline porno moustache (which may or may not have been the reason Maeve was here…) made you want to jump his bones all over again. “I was a racecar driver-”

“He’s a high school student, be kind,” you reminded him with a kiss on his cheek. You brought Maeve over to the table and finished off the last bits as Liv and Connor came down the stairs. She was 15 and turning into the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen. She was so smart. She’d already been on her school debate and mathletes team, bringing both to the championship finals at the national level, you couldn’t be prouder. In all honesty, you’d met Connor before. Liv had wanted you to vet him before she started getting serious, so you got invited to a coffee date with them. He was sweet. Totally boy-next-door-vibes, which was totally her. 

He sent you a soft smile as he sat at the table. 

“Where’s Rhea?” Freddie questioned, sitting at the table, beside Liv. 

“She was on the sim,” Liv explained. “She’ll be down in a few.” 

As if by magic, she came barreling down the stairs and straight into your arms, a quick greeting before taking her spot beside Maeve. Rhea was 11 and every bit the racer her father was. You had hoped the racing gene skipped a generation but alas, it hadn’t and you were already busy researching European boarding schools to send her to in a few years time so that she could move on to single-seaters. She already had a place in the RedBull junior team (despite her father’s reservations) and she was excelling in every single one of her categories. She was a champion, and an F1 champion in the making. 

You sat at the table, the weight of your long day falling off your shoulders as your family gathered. You smiled at the table in front of you. “So, how was everyone’s day?” you asked as Daniel placed the last plate on the table and sat to your left, intertwining his right hand with your left, a smile on his face. 

“Aside from the bruising- thanks Freddie, it was good. Maths test went well,” Harry shrugged, digging into the meal. Freddie rolled his eyes, but Daniel let it go, knowing you'd both be talking to him about his behaviour anyway. 

“Can I see the paper?” Daniel asked through a bite of food. You grimaced. 

“Close your mouth when you eat,” you reminded him, covering his mouth with your hand. He chuckled. 

“I’ll give it to you after dinner,” Harry nodded. “What about you Maeve?” 

Harry was clearly overprotective of Maeve, he noticed how she was the baby of the family and babied her a bit more than everyone else, but they both loved it. She was like a mini him, just even less talkative (unless it was with Oscar- everyone was a big fan of him whenever he came over).

She shrugged. “It was good. We started on multiplication today.” 

“Woah!” Freddie gasped. “That’s pretty big,” he smiled brightly at his little sister. “You’re getting older,” he chuckled, ruffling her hair. She pretended to pout, but laughed as she fixed her hair. 

“That’s great Maevey,” Liv smiled from the other side of the table. “If you need any help with your homework I can give you a hand,” Liv offered and Maeve nodded, going back to eating her dinner. “I have another test next week.”

“What about this time?” Daniel asked, exasperated. “They need to give you a break at some point.” 

“Chemistry,” she sighed. “Connor has it too.”  “I didn’t know you took chemistry,” you turned to him, noticing how rigid his body language was, hoping to make him a bit more comfortable by bringing him into the conversation. “How do you find the teacher? Liv hates him.” 

Connor shrugged lightly. “I mean… he’s not the greatest teacher in the school, but I like his study packs, I think they’re pretty handy.”

“Who is it again?” Freddie asked, knowing Connor from the rugby team. 

“Mr. Brown,” Connor answered and Harry groaned. “I had him last year! He’s so annoying!”

You turned your head to Daniel, who was already looking at you with that lovesick look. You chuckled quietly. “What?” you mouthed. 

“Just love you,” he mouthed back. It still made your heart skip a beat. 

When everyone was finally down to bed, you tucked yourself into Daniel’s side and sighed against his skin. 

“You alright?” he whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, enjoying very much how close you were to him. 

“Just thinking,” you admitted. “The kids are so grown up.” 

He’d come to the exact same conclusion at dinner, watching as Freddie and Harry teased Liv, how Harry babied Maeve, how Liv laughed with Rhea, and how they all looked a lot older than 17, 15, 10, and 6. “I know what you mean,” he chuckled against your skin. “We did a pretty amazing job. We have some pretty incredible kids.” 

You laughed against his collarbone, a melodic sound he would never get tired of. “I guess we did,” you agreed. “Hard not to when they have such a brilliant role model,” you looked up at him with adoring eyes, and he felt himself soften. No jokes. No messing. Just pure… love for the life you two had built over the years. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. “For them. For you. For everything.”  “Thank you,” you smiled and leaned in, kissing him gently. Maybe you two weren’t the young guns you used to be, riding dirt bikes around his family’s estate, and kissing in cars, but you two were more than fulfilled.

navigation for my blog :)

redbull and vcarb masterlist

[planetaryupscaled]

Everything's Fine if You Pretend

Male Reader x Danielle

Tags: 28k, smut, first time, creampie, oral

The story is not ours, we alternate the original story to match our desired settings.

“I’m sorry, what?”

Danielle cocked her head with the same impish grin she always wore.

“She’s uh, asking if you would like to come to the wedding.”

“Why?” She almost seemed cocky—oh she always did.

“Because you’re a friend.” I said, stepping over the curb as we crossed the street. “She likes you more than me.”

“Your sister wants me to be her plus-one? Seems a little weird.”

“My plus-one, actually.” I managed. “She’s forcing me to take somebody and she wants it to be you.”

Danielle smirked. “Why me? Surely if she wants you to take somebody, you can just ask one of your pals to take to a boring wedding.”

“You’re really going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

Her knowing grin could light up the sky. “Absolutely. So, I ask again, why does it have to be me?”

The sigh that escaped my lips was filled with a mixture of defeat and deep embarrassment. “Because she thinks we’re dating.”

“There it is!” Danielle laughed loudly as we approached the roundabout.

“It’s not what you think! They wouldn’t stop bugging me about trying to find a girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’ this, ‘girlfriend’ that and ‘how come you are twenty and still single?’ Ugh. It’s exhausting.”

“They?”

“Who else do you think? my parents, my sister.”

Danielle crossed her arms over her chest and playfully nudged me with her shoulder. “So, your first instinct was to lie and say that I was your girlfriend?”

“Well, I tried a few times, but it never worked out. Since they wouldn’t shut up about it, I figured the best course of action was to say that we were dating just to get them off my back.”

“Okay then, new question. How long have we been dating, sweetie?”

“I told them last November.”

Danielle’s eyes widened and her mouth was held agape in a smile of mock disbelief. “No way, we’ve been dating for a year and you haven’t told me?”

“We aren’t dating!”

“Hmm. It’s a wonder you haven’t proposed...”

“Danielle! We. Aren’t. Dating.”

“Well, apparently we are, since that must be the reason why your mom invited me to join at every holiday dinner since last year, and why my parents let me.”

“Wait, what?”

“We’re neighbours, you dummy! You think our parents don’t talk with each other? The day you told your mom we were dating, she told my parents, who asked me about it. I just played along.”

“You knew this entire time and said nothing? What was with the entire conversation up to this point?”

She grinned and leaned her head over my shoulder. “Do you have any idea how fun it is? You get all red and you tuck your head like a turtle.”

I pushed her off, but returned her smile. “You such a … “

“Hey now, you are the one who lied. I’m just having some fun with the consequences. So, what about this wedding?”

I sighed. “All you have to do is say that you can’t make it. Just say that you have to go visit a family or something.”

“Why do I have to do it?”

“Because she won’t believe me. If she hears it from you, then she will.”

“Why not just tell her the truth that we aren’t actually a couple?”

“And admit that I lied for almost a year? Pass.”

Danielle stretched her arms above her head and leaned back, which helped to accentuate her figure. One of the consequences to growing up with a female best friend was watching her develop into a beautiful young woman. She was slender but toned thanks to her years of being in cheerleader. Her body was shaped well underneath her light grey hoodie and black skinny jeans, with gentle curves and supple breasts. They were small but seemed to be fairly well shaped.

Did I have a crush on her? I used to.

Did she know that? Absolutely.

Did she seem to care? Not at all.

-

“Why not lie and tell that we broke up?”

“They like you too much. I think that might actually kill them.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “You know this charade is going to meet an ugly end eventually, right? The longer it goes on, the worse it’s going to be when they peek behind the curtain.”

“I’ll burn that bridge when I get to it. For now, can you just tell her that you can’t make it to the wedding?” I pleaded. Danielle sighed as we turned the corner on the sidewalk and began walking up the driveway to my house.

“Fine. But you owe me. Anything else I need to know?”

“She was thinking about inviting you out for breakfast tomorrow. Again, all you need to do is say you already have plans.”

Danielle frowned. “You know I’ll be cashing in these favours sooner rather than later, right?”

I laxed in relief and unlocked the front door. “I’ll take whatever I can get. Just... please.”

-

My sister called out the moment the door opened. “How was the movie?”

Before I had a chance to open my mouth, Danielle chirped up with a wicked smile. “It was great, Unnie!”

My sister almost sprinted around the corner, and I could only hold my head in shame. “Danielle!” my sister cried gleefully and pulling her into a tight hug, her eyes glared daggers at me.

“Why don’t you go get her a drink?”

“Diet coke please, sweetie.” Danielle grinned.

I had to keep from cursing under my breath as I kicked off my shoes and stepped towards the kitchen. Over my shoulder, I could tell my sister lowered her voice as she quietly spoke to Danielle, but she was still so excited that I could easily hear them both.

“Sweetie? That’s new.”

I swear, I could see the grin on Danielle’s face even around the corner.

“Yeah, we kept it really casual for a while, but we talked and we’re ready to start taking things a bit more seriously. He’s actually taking me out for brunch tomorrow.”

I winced, but removed the requested drink from the fridge. Really? Her choice for alternate plans was a date?

“Oh really? we planned on having breakfast tomorrow. He never said anything about a date.”

“Oh, well if you two have plans, then we can easily reschedule...”

“Nonsense! You two enjoy your date. Has he told you about the wedding?”

I could see Danielle’s feigned curiosity when I stepped back into the room.

“What wedding?”

The death glares my sister gave made me silently vow to slap Danielle.

“I’ve been telling you to ask her for weeks.”

“Noona, I just…” she cut me off by turning back to face Danielle.

“We are going to a relative’s wedding in Jeju the day after tomorrow. I know this is extremely last minute...” Her dagger-like stare made a bead of sweat form on the back of my neck. “...but I was wondering if you wanted to come with us?”

Danielle tilted her head like she was remembering something. That, or dumping the bullshit out of her ears.

“Right, my parents mentioned that you two were gonna be gone for a few days. They never said anything about me coming with you, though.”

“Well, I wanted HIM to be the one to ask you, but obviously he still hasn’t after a month. You’d think that he would care at least a little bit.”

“Noona...” I fumbled for a lie that seemed more appropriate than ‘I didn’t ask her because we’re not dating’. “…I figured she wouldn’t enjoy it. It’s just a wedding, and I don’t want to force her to do something she’ll hate.”

I passed Danielle her drink. Unfortunately, my sister seemed intent on winning this battle. “That is her choice to make, not yours. Ask her.”

A sigh escaped my lips while I looked between the two women. One glaring like she was going to beat me with the business end of a flip-flop, and the other trying her hardest to keep from laughing out loud.

“Would you like to come to Jeju with me for the wedding?” Danielle’s smile dripped with her classic impish charm.

“I would love to.”

-

When the door was carefully closed, I turned back to Danielle who made herself comfortable sitting on the edge of my bed while sipping her drink.

“Dan, what the fuck?”

She chuckled. “What? Did I do something wrong?”

“All you had to do was say you had plans, and then you wouldn’t need to come to this wedding.”

“I don’t have plans, and I want to come.”

“You do?”

Danielle set her can on my nightstand and lied back on the bed, spreading her arms out towards either side like she was trying to make half a snow angel in the wrinkles of my comforter.

“Yeah. I don’t have anything to do, and this genuinely sounds like it will be fun. Three days in Jeju? Count me in.”

“You do realize we’re going to have to pretend the entire trip, right?”

“That’s what’s gonna make it fun.”

“You’re an ass.” I smiled and sat down on the bed, looking down at her.

“Again, I’m just enjoying the consequences of your actions.”

A moment of silence passed. I scratched the side of my face.

“Did you have to use a date as your way out of breakfast tomorrow?”

Danielle propped herself up on her elbows and grinned. “Hey, it gets you out of having to have breakfast with her too.”

“Okay, good point. But brunch? Really?”

“It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

“I thought only old people called it brunch.”

“You can call it whatever you want!”

“Late breakfast.”

“Fine.”

“Early lunch.”

“Sure.”

“Very early dinner.”

Danielle pursed her lips. “Are you done?”

“Midnight snack?”

She sighed. “Okay, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. Tomorrow, I’ll come over at ten, and then we can head out. What do you wanna do? Another movie?”

“Huh? I thought we were going to eat.”

“We don’t have to, dumbass!” Danielle laughed. “I just said that to get both of us out of breakfast. As long as we leave and stay gone for an hour or two, it doesn’t matter what we do. So, what do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t know, what do you want?”

“Hmm, it’s like talking to a brick wall, except a wall is usually more decisive.” She said, rolling her eyes.

“Fuck. You.”

“That’s the plan.” she smirked. “You know, since we’re dating now, and that’s what couples do, but we’re gonna need to be quiet since your sister is right downstairs.”

“Dan...”

“No, actually, I’m supposed to be the one calling your name.”

“Danielle!”

-

As it turned out, late breakfast was exactly what we did. Danielle sat across from me in the booth, slowly picking away at her Bibimbap while I chowed down on my Bulgoki. As usual, we were both dressed in our hoodies and jeans like a pair of mannequins. But, something was different about Danielle. It was subtle.

“Are you wearing makeup?” I asked, and she batted her eyes.

“Just a bit of foundation. Why, see something you like?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear makeup. I’m surprised.”

“Well, if we’re going to a wedding tomorrow, then I need some practice.”

“During early lunch...”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “Well, a girl needs makeup for a date.”

“This isn’t a date.” I sighed.

“Yeah, but your sister thinks so, and that’s what matters.”

“There is no way she saw that you were wearing makeup.”

Danielle took another forkful and chuckled. “She noticed the moment I walked in the door.”

“I doubt that.”

“Hey, don’t get mad because it took you half an hour to see it.”

“Yeah, but you were only in the house for like, fifteen seconds!”

“And during that time, she commented about it and said that I did a good job.”

“When?”

“When you went back upstairs to grab your hoodie.” Danielle said, matter-of-factly.

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“Am not. Here, look at that couple over there.” Danielle pointed her gaze and I followed it to a pair that was sitting at a table towards the middle of the room. Why they weren’t at one of the many open booths near the windows, I didn’t know.

“What do you see about them?” Danielle asked.

“Well, a guy and a girl. They’re having a very early dinner together.”

“You’re never going to call it brunch, are you?”

“Not on your life.”

Danielle sighed. “Fine. The girl. Is she wearing makeup?”

I turned my attention away from guy, and towards his companion. From this distance though, I couldn’t make any confirmations on whether she was wearing makeup. She looked completely natural.

“No.”

Danielle made a quiet noise like a buzzer for an incorrect answer. “It’s subtle, but lipstick at the very least. If I had to guess, I would also say a bit of a touch of foundation.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because I can. Now, about more serious matters,” Danielle turned back to me, but I kept my gaze fixed on the couple. The restaurant was quiet, and I could faintly overhear the boy talking, even though his voice was lowered.

“Hey! You there?”

“Huh?” My attention was torn back to Danielle, who was staring with an amused expression.

“Did you hear anything I asked?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“You— I asked what the plan was for the wedding.”

I faltered. “We’re... pretending to be a couple?”

Danielle rolled her eyes so wide it must have hurt.

“That’s already been established! I’m asking when are we leaving? How are we travelling? What are we doing when we’re at Jeju? What’s the plan for the hotel? What time is the wedding? When are we coming back?”

I winced at the assault of questions. “Okay, okay, I get it.” I took a deep breath.

“As far as I know, we’re driving down to Jeju, and we’re leaving at noon tomorrow. Knowing my sister, we’ll actually end up leaving at eleven, and she would want you to be packed and at our house by nine thirty. When we’re at Jeju, we’re going to check into the hotel and hang out there until dinner, and then we’re going to Cheonjiyeon Waterfalls.”

“Sounds romantic.” Danielle joked. I ignored the red in my cheeks.

“Anyway, then we go back to the hotel and in the morning, we get ready for the reception. It starts at one, everyone is there by noon, she’ll makes us be there for ten, you know the drill. The wedding ends after dinner, we stay at the hotel again, then head home in the morning.”

“Alright, but that still leaves one question.”

“What’s that?”

“The hotel.” Danielle raised her eyebrows like I should know what she was implying.

“What about the hotel?”

Danielle’s eyebrows dropped to an annoyed glare. “How many rooms, dummy? Are the three of us staying in the same room?”

“Uh, no.” I said quickly. It was difficult to meet her eyes. “Two rooms. One for her, and the other for us two.”

“Okay, so we’ll have to be quiet when we have sex if your sister is in the next room.”

I decided not to speak, and buried my face into my bulgoki. It tasted great just a minute ago, but now it tasted like shame. Danielle just smirked and pressed her opening.

“Who knows, maybe while you’re railing me, she’ll be able to hear us on the other side of the wall.”

Danielle had always been... blunt, but this vulgarity was new. Hearing her talk like that made all the blood in my body rush to my face. Well, that, and one other place.

“Dan! What’s wrong with you?”

She holds up her hands defensively, like I was the one crossing the line.

“Hey, if we’re dating, your sister expects us to be having sex.”

“Again, we’re just pretending. And it’s only for three days!”

“What about when we get back? What’s your brilliant scheme then?”

I winced into the few bites left of my bulgoki. “I don’t know. I’ll think of something.”

Danielle polished off the last of her bibimbap and grinned. “Well, you better think quickly. You done eating?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go to the washroom, you can pay, and then we’ll head out.”

“Wait, why do I have to pay?” I protested.

“Because I know that your sister slipped you some money. I’ll be right back!”

Danielle left the table, and I took one last bite before signalling the waiter. Meanwhile, I tried to calm down the erection that had formed in my pants. I really didn’t need her to see it when I stood up to leave. Why was she being so care-free now godamit.

Did she like the idea of us being together? No, absolutely not. She expressed a long time ago that she didn’t see me that way, when I had the guts to confess to her in six grade. We barely talked for months afterwards. Now, she was just taking the opportunity of my stupid lie to torment me. There wasn’t any point in getting hung up on something that was never going to happen.

-

It was a few minutes before Danielle returned, and I gave her an exhausted smile. Her cheeks were red when she looked at me, and she almost looked shy when she sat down. I raised an eyebrow.

“What, did you fall in or something?”

Danielle shook her head. “No. You didn’t check your phone?”

“I left it at home. Oh god, what kind of horrible memes did you send me this time?”

Danielle paused. “Uh, you’ll see.”

“Great. I can’t wait to get home and question your sanity. Let’s go.”

-

Aside from Danielle stopping to play with a small terrier being walked by an older man, our stroll back was uneventful. Danielle returned to her house as I stepped into mine. I wasn’t surprised when I immediately heard my sister walk out of the living room.

“How was your date?” She called.

“Good.”

“Did you tell her about…”

She rounded the corner, and I cut her off. “Yes, I told her about the plans, what time we’re leaving, and everything else. Don’t worry.”

She didn’t look satisfied yet. “Did you pay with the money I gave you?”

“Noona, I would have paid even if you didn’t give me money.”

“Well, I’m sorry for worrying. Danielle’s a good one.”

“You don’t need to worry about it. Everything’s under control.”

The slight wrinkles in her face deepened.

“Do you really love Danielle?”

Sucker punch to the gut.

“Uh... what?”

“I’m just asking, because it seems like things aren’t going very well. You two obviously brought your relationship to the next level, but it doesn’t seem like you’re happy. Danielle is, but you aren’t.”

“Why do you ask?” I said cautiously.

She frowned. “You two have been dating for over a year, but I’ve never even seen you hug each other, much less anything else. I understand keeping things casual, but intentionally not inviting her to the wedding? Why do you not want her to come?”

I stammered. “Because... I don’t think she would enjoy it. There won’t be anyone she knows there, and...” My voice faltered. She sighs.

“If things are going badly between you two, all you have to do is tell me. I can help, you know.”

“Everything’s fine, Noona. I promise.”

She just got a sad look in her eyes and turned away. “I really wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I don’t want you to lose the best woman you’re ever going to find.”

“Well, I’m gonna go upstairs.”

“You left your phone in the kitchen.” She offered flatly. “Danielle sent some... interesting pictures.”

I winced.

“They’re called memes. Don’t worry, Danielle doesn’t actually mean those things.”

“Uh-huh.” Was her only reply while I grabbed my phone. I didn’t look at the screen until I was halfway up the stairs. At that point, my jaw dropped and I almost tripped. I could only manage to stumble up the rest of the steps and shut myself in my room before looking closer at the four pictures.

Only one was the horrible meme I expected. Instead, my gaze was affixed on the other three pictures.

They were photos, obviously taken in a public washroom.

Photos of Danielle.

The first was a classic selfie using the washroom mirror, but Danielle wasn’t wearing her hoodie. Her hand not holding the phone had her shirt pulled up to her chin, revealing her lack of a bra.

Fuck.

From her slender, smooth stomach all the way up to her navel, her skin was the same flawless shade of pale ivory as it wrapped around and under her supple breasts. They were perhaps a single handful each, with delicate skin and perfect, small, perky nipples in the center of each mass.

Danielle’s cheeks were red, but her smile couldn’t have been brighter.

The second photo was similar to the first, in the sense that the photo was looking into the reflection of the mirror. This time, Danielle’s shirt was removed altogether, but she was facing away so I could only see her soft back and a hint of sideboob. She grinned over her shoulder, and her other hand had her jeans and panties pulled down below the cheeks of her rear end, showing her small yet pert, bare and flawless ass. It was clear even in the soft shading of her bottom.

I knew I should have looked away—it was wrong for me to be looking at these pictures, much less staring at them. Surely, she sent them to the wrong person. Either that, or she had sent the wrong photos altogether. Either way, my lower appendage was as hard as granite and made my jeans very uncomfortable, very quickly.

The last picture made my throat catch. She was sitting on the floor of the washroom, using her hoodie like a towel underneath her. Her hand held the phone in between her legs, looking back up at her. The only thing she wore was a smile.

Her legs were spread, her other hand was placed on the smooth, hairless patch of skin in between her thighs. Because of that, the view of her lower lips was very obscured, but no less erotic. Only her thumb, forefinger and pinky were visible. I could take a wild guess as to where the other two fingers were.

I don’t know how long I stared at the pictures of my best friend, completely slack-jawed. I mean, sure, I’ve thought about what Danielle looked like naked. Every straight guy with a female friend has done the same. Still, I never expected to get proven so wrong. Every part of her was somehow better than the mental image my mind had conjured. It was different, yes, but definitely better.

Her breasts looked slightly different than I imagined, but they fit much better proportionally. Her ass was pert, years of cheerleader made it toned and smooth like two perfect globes.

Her pussy was clean shaven instead of having a small patch as I expected. However, the lack of hair simply let all of the attention be directed towards the beautiful flower being spread open by a pair of delving fingers.

Somehow, I fumbled around enough to sit down on the edge of my bed and start a video call. After undoing the button on my jeans and letting the bulge in my boxers have a bit more room to breathe, of course.

Danielle answered before the first ring finished. Her hoodie was discarded, leaving her in just her t-shirt. In my mind’s eye, I could still see it bunched up underneath her chin and showing her shapely breasts. Danielle still had the same smile from the photos.

“Calling so soon after the date? A girl would think you’re needy. I take it you liked my meme?”

“I uh... I think you might have sent me the wrong pictures.”

“Oh no.” Danielle frowned. “What pictures did I send?”

“Uh, there was um... they were photos of you.”

“Of me?” Danielle raised an amused eyebrow.

“Yeah.” I confirmed. “With... without clothes.”

Danielle grinned. “Why are you so awkward?”

“Huh?”

“I meant to send those. That’s what I was doing in the washroom before we left.”

I floundered. “So, you mean that…”

“While you were paying, I was taking... an artistic photo of mine, and sending them to you. It’s a shame you left your phone at home. I would have loved to see you get so embarrassed in public.”

“Why?”

Danielle giggled and laid back. I could tell that like me, she had been sitting on the edge of her bed, but had now lied down and was holding her phone in the air above her face. Her hair fanned out around her head like a halo.

“Because couples send each other nudes, dummy! If we’re gonna pretend to be a couple, it would be a lot more convincing if you have a few pictures of me on your phone. I can send some more, if you want…”

“No!” I said quickly. Danielle’s grin faded, and I took a breath.

“Dan, my sister saw those pictures.”

Her smile returned, but it seemed like it was only halfway there. “Good.”

“How is that good?!”

“Because,” said Danielle, “…that should help to convince her that we’re dating. Otherwise, why would I be sending you nudes? Speaking of which, how did she even see them? Don’t you have a lock on your phone?”

“No.”

“Why not? Aren’t you worried about random people going through your stuff?”

“How would they do that? I keep my phone on me all the time.”

Danielle just stared, unimpressed. “You have your phone at all times, huh?”

“Okay…” I relented. “I left it at home a few times, but my sister is the only person who’ll see it, and she’s not much for snooping.”

“And it’s because she doesn’t snoop that she saw a picture of me fingering myself?”

I swallowed my tongue along with the rest of my argument. Danielle had a point. She must have seen her victory, since her eyes twinkled.

“If you want to make my tits your home screen, I’ll just ask that you put a password first. I think one look at my goodies is enough for your sister.”

In the small image of myself in the lower corner of the screen, I could see the red on my cheeks. After a moment of silence, Danielle chuckled.

“What did she think?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did she make any comments about the pictures or anything?”

I shook my head. “Uh, no. She just said that you sent some interesting pictures, and that was it.”

The gap between Danielle’s eyebrows narrowed. “I know your sister, and that seems strangely vague for her.”

“I think...” The words struggled to form proper sentences. “…I think it’s because she doesn’t entirely believe us.”

“She doesn’t think we’re dating?”

“No, I think it’s more along the lines of her believing that we’re dating a little too much.”

Danielle looked confused. “Okay, you’re gonna have to walk me through this one because you aren’t making sense.”

I let out a sigh. “Think of it from her point of view. We’ve been ‘dating’ for a year, but absolutely nothing has changed. We still act the same way we always have—as best friends and neighbours. Now, I was so reluctant to invite you to the wedding.”

Danielle waited after I finished my sentence. Several seconds passed before she lifted her hand and made a keep going movement. “Come on, you gotta give me a little more here. Instead of beating around the bush, just say what’s the problem.”

“From what I understand, she fully believes that we’re dating, but also thinks that we’re having some problems and are on the verge of breaking up.”

Danielle frowned. “I literally sent you a picture of my—and she thinks we’re gonna split? What kind of logic is that?”

I struggled to find the best way to put my thoughts into words. No matter what way I said it, it sounded odd.

“Actually, I think she believes that you’re in the relationship, but not me.”

“And how does that work?”

“I actively avoided inviting you to anything. Now you’re sending me nudes. I think she believes that I’m going to break up with you.”

“Oh.” Danielle looked genuinely speechless. I could usually tell what she was thinking at any given moment. Right now, she was an enigma. She risked a half-grin.

“It sounds like you should pick up the slack, make her believe.”

“And how am I supposed to do that? We’re not actually dating. I can’t just start making out with you in front of her.”

“Why not? I sent you nudes. Take the leap.”

“Wait, what?”

Danielle just gave a weak smile, her cheeks flushing with a tinge of pink. “I’ve gotta start packing. See you tomorrow.”

The last thing I saw before the call ended was Danielle giving a kiss towards the camera. I was stuck there, dumbfounded, and trying to wrap my head around what was happening.

-

Danielle was taking this ‘pretend couple’ thing way too far. The worst part was, I couldn’t even bring myself to be mad about it. She had made it clear a long time ago that she wasn’t interested—basically just told me to grow a pair and step up the act on our fake relationship.

Take the leap?

I shook my head, trying to force the thoughts away like they were insects that had crawled in my ears. No. I buried those fantasies years ago. I won’t let them dig their way out just because of an act. I fell in love with her a long time ago. If that happened again...

I wasn’t sure if there was any way to recover from that.

I opened our text messages again and tried not to stare at the nude selfies as I deleted them. Sadly, I couldn’t make them vanish from my mind as easily as they vanished from the screen.

As much as I tried to ignore it, Danielle was the only person on my mind.

-

We were planning to leave at noon. My sister decided to wake me up at six. I couldn’t really complain. I had my alarm set for six-thirty. Damn that woman and the curse of punctuality she bestowed upon me.

Sleeping was peaceful. I rarely had dreams, so it was just a time where nothing could bother me. No worries. No memories. No apprehensions. No fears. No regrets. Not even Danielle could break the veil. She had plagued my thoughts for over a dozen hours after the video chat. It was only when I finally managed to drift away from consciousness that my mind went quiet. It was wonderful.

Unfortunately, I had to wake up.

From my extra-hot shower, to brushing my teeth, to double-checking that I had everything packed, Danielle resided rent-free in the forefront of my mind. Most of the images in my head weren’t even the precious memories of her nude selfies. They were there, absolutely, but the images of her naked form were drowned among the flash of her smile, the sound of her laugh, and the twinkle in her eyes.

This weekend was going to be a nightmare.

It only got worse when Danielle showed up a quarter after nine. I answered the door, and was surprised by Danielle jumping forward and embracing me in a tight hug. Even through her hoodie, I could feel the curves of her body pressing against mine. Her hair was loose and draping down to her shoulders like a shimmering curtain. It smelled like strawberries. Her face was cradled on my chest, and I heard her whisper in my ear.

“Hug me back, idiot.”

I hesitantly reciprocated, wrapping my arms around her lower back. I tried to ignore how wonderful it was. Danielle felt so good in my embrace. It seemed so natural to hold her like this, and I became painfully aware of the reality. We had been best friends for our entire lives, but I could probably count on one hand the number of times that we actually made physical contact with each other for anything other than a high-five or a friendly punch. When was the last time we hugged?

I couldn’t even begin to say. Maybe we never did.

We stayed like that for several seconds too long, breathing against each other in silence. Eventually, Danielle moved her head a tiny bit to look down the hall.

“Hey Noona!”

“Hello Danielle. Have you had breakfast?”

Danielle pulled away from the hug, slipped off her shoes, and casually began walking down the hall like nothing happened. “Not yet. I hope it’s okay if I raid your cupboards for some cereal.”

“You will not have cereal when I’m almost done making a true breakfast.”

“Oh, you spoil me too much.”

“Nonsense. You deserve only the best.?”

I snapped back to reality, still feeling the warmth of Danielle in my arms, and looked back to see a small, carry-on suitcase resting in the open doorframe. I pulled it inside and shut the door before following them to the kitchen.

My sister had returned to her self-appointed post, twisting and turning across the tile floor as she managed half a dozen things at once—she looked like a contestant in some extreme cooking show. I just kept my distance on the other side of the counter. It may have looked like she was drowning in her process, but in her own words, everyone else just got in her way.

“Need a hand?” Danielle asked with a smile.

“Nope, you are not to lift a finger.”

“Oh please, I can help.”

She turned around with an exasperated look. “Danielle, I will not let you do any work as a beloved guest in our house.”

“Come on.” Danielle grinned. “I want to help. We can take care of the eggs, at the very least. That way, you can make sure the other things don’t burn.”

“Fine. But don’t you dare try to help with the dishes!”

“Understood.” Danielle laughed.

What the fuck? Every time I ever tried to help with anything, she would practically tear my throat out, push me away, and then complain that I never did anything around the house. Yet somehow, with just a few simple words, Danielle managed to convince her to relinquish her iron chains.

I needed to take notes.

Danielle certainly got comfortable despite doing something as innocuous. She stood as close as she possibly could. Her body was pressed up into my side, which sent a frustratingly confusing shudder through my core. She was taking adorable little glances up into my eyes, and giggling every time I awkwardly looked away.

Take the leap.

Danielle’s words echoed through my mind. I instinctively knew that she wouldn’t mind if I did take a step up, since she was so... blunt, previously. I bit the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. I wasn’t quite sure, but I swore that I could see Danielle’s eyes sparkle when I wrapped an arm around her waist.

What was I doing? Feeling her pressed up against my side was doing terrible things to my heart. I wanted nothing more than to stay like that forever. Danielle felt so wonderful and soft. Not to mention, knowing that it was her I was pulling close—that was the forbidden cherry on top.

Despite the strain growing in my chest, I kept my hand curled around the side of her slender stomach. I even managed an awkward smile when Danielle swiped a butter-covered thumb on the tip of my nose.

I wanted to do it. I wanted it so badly that I could barely breathe. Her lips looked so inviting—like soft little pillows framing a smile that couldn’t have been more perfect. Resisting the urge to lean in for that wicked kiss made it feel like something in my chest was under tension so high it would snap.

How did I let this happen? Just yesterday I promised myself that I wouldn’t let her hurt me again. I wouldn’t let Danielle burrow her way into my chest and carve another hole that took years to heal.

Yet, at what was literally the very first opportunity for failure. So much for my willpower to resist the charm of a succubus. I knew this would only end in flames. The moment this act ended; I would be left with a vicious wound in the shape of her.

Despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to care about the consequences yet. That was something I would just have to deal with later. The glint in Danielle’s beautiful brown eyes was far too intoxicating.

I didn’t let go of her until the three of us were sitting down to eat. Even then, Danielle shifted her chair adjacent to mine. We sat so close we were practically wearing each other’s pants. Every time I caught a peek at my sister, she just gave a curious smile.

It only got more complicated from then on. Thankfully, she went upstairs to do her classic quadruple-check over every single thing she packed into her suitcase. Unfortunately, that left Danielle and I alone on the couch while we waited for our departure time. I desperately hoped that Danielle wouldn’t fixate on this weekend. Thankfully she seemed to stay her normal self, even if she was cuddled up into my side. It was such a casual display of affection that it almost made my heart flutter more than our hug when she entered the house. Unlike the hug, this lasted so much longer. There was nothing stopping Danielle from nesting into me as we scrolled through Netflix for anything that piqued our interest. As I expected, we ended up in the horror section.

“Exhuma?” I asked.

“Nah. We’re only gonna be able to get through like half a movie before we have to go. I just want something I won’t really get invested in.”

“The Conjuring?”

“That movie literally only gets interesting right when we would have to leave.”

“Fine. What would you like to watch?”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “I don’t know! I already downloaded all three seasons of Sweet Home onto my laptop so we could watch it in the car and hotel. Got a headphone splitter and everything.”

“We aren’t in the car or hotel yet, so you need to pick something.”

“Why do I need to pick? You have the remote.”

“Yeah, and you’ve already vetoed both of my suggestions. You’re the only one being stingy here, so you choose what you want to watch.”

“Oh jeez.” Danielle twisted her head up to glare at me. “If you don’t pick a movie, I’m just gonna start making out with you in order to keep myself entertained.”

“I—uh, what?”

“What? You don’t think that making out would be interesting? It looks like a lot of fun.” She grinned. “Plus, it would be a good way to convince your sister. She comes downstairs and I’m sitting on your lap while we’re using each other’s throats like straws.”

I could only tuck my chin with a blush, prompting a loud laugh from Danielle.

“Relax, I won’t. Unless you ask nicely, of course.”

“What’s so funny?” I heard my sister voice call out from around the corner of the living room, along with her approaching footsteps. Faster than I could react, Danielle grabbed both of my hands and pushed them into her sides just below her ribcage. She started twitching and giggling against me.

“Stop, stop! Please!”

It took far too long for me to realise that Danielle just provided both of us with a perfect cover. Still, I plastered my own mischievous smile and started scratching and tickling away. Her fake spasms and noises quickly became real just before my sister stepped into view. I pretended not to notice her presence and held tightly onto the squirming girl while assaulting her sides with quick and playful fingers. My sister remained quiet for several moments and watched on. I took the opportunity to really dig in and double down on my efforts. What were once gentle pushes to try and get me to stop my tickling quickly became genuine actions of desperation. Danielle’s years of cheerleader made it difficult to get any good grip on her. Still, her breathing became ragged and strained as her face turned bright red. Tears were even streaming down her face.

“You two having fun?” my sister finally spoke, and I lifted my head to meet her gaze. Beneath me, I could see Danielle do the same. I never stopped tickling, and she never stopped fighting.

“Ahh Help!”

“Hey, let her go.”

I ceased my assault and lifted my hands in surrender. Danielle used the opportunity to scramble away on the couch. She drew several heaving breaths before leaning forward and punching me in the shoulder.

“Ow! What’s that for?”

“Dummy! You know I’m ticklish.”

I didn’t, actually.

“You two better not be acting up in the car. Traffic on the highway is already going to be bad enough, I don’t need more distractions.”

Danielle gave a smile that could make a corpse blush. “Don’t worry noona. Unlike him, I can keep my hands to myself.”

“Uh huh.” Was her response.

“Are we leaving soon, or...” I had to break the silence.

“Relax, it’s only ten. We still have another hour before we need to leave. Do you mind if I sit here with you while we find something to watch?”

“Not at all. Sit down and relax all you like.”

Danielle giggled sweetly. “Now—you tickle me one more time and you don’t get any more cuddles.”

Before I could respond, she crawled back into her original position. If anything, she nuzzled up into my side even more than before. Most of her weight was on me, and her head was resting in the crook of my neck. Her hair was so soft. The smell of strawberries was almost overpowering. She grabbed my arm and curled it around her so that my hand was resting on her stomach. Her shirt had even ridden up slightly, allowing my pinky to sit upon the bare skin just below her belly button.

“You’ve decided what we’re gonna watch, right sweetie?”

I swear I’m gonna shoot her. After I shot myself, of course.

“Uh, yeah. Exhuma.”

My sister sighed. “Just know that we’re going to be leaving in an hour.”

“That’s okay.” Danielle smiled. “I prefer the first half anyway. That part’s more interesting.”

-

Thankfully, the car ride was a lot less traumatic. I was worried that spending a few hours in an enclosed space with both Danielle and my sister would be the end of the world. It seemed as though Danielle decided to throw me a bone and play nice for the first time in her life.

I simply focused on trying to enjoy the show. It was significantly harder than it had any right to be, because of the way she held my hand over the dividing cupholder in between us. For the entire ride. As in, the entire ride. From the instant that our doors closed to the moment we parked outside the hotel, she did not let go of my hand once. If she switched the laptop to the next episode, took a sip of her drink or grabbed a snack, she always used her right hand since her left was firmly grasping mine. I could only imagine how gross it must have felt for her.

When we finally parked, both Danielle and I used our free hands to take off the headphones. She smiled at me and her eyes glittered like pools of melted chocolate. Granted, I had never looked particularly closely at her eyes—that was probably to avoid the fluttering butterflies trapped in my stomach.

Even more so than when the two of us were buttering toast, the simple act of us holding hands and looking at each other made every single other sensation in the world fade away. Every neuron in my brain was firing warning signals, screaming at me to let go and turn away. To admit to that I was lying about the relationship. However, this ended would be way worse than if I just cut my losses and ran.

I leaned in and kissed her.

There was no word that could describe it. Perfect was too tacky. Amazing wasn’t quite right. Wonderful just didn’t do it the justice it deserved. What surprised me was just how simple it was. I never expected that kissing someone would be so... plain. There wasn’t any feeling about it that was special. It was just like kissing the back of my hand, if a little bit softer. What made the act so unbelievable was simply the knowledge of who I was doing it with. Knowing that it was Danielle pressed up against my lips in what was arguably the most intimate of acts. My very first experience of the sort, and it was with none other than the best friend I had been in love with for longer than I could remember. The one person on the planet that I couldn’t have under any circumstance. The one person who made it clear way back then that she wasn’t interested. Sure, she was very obvious that she was willing to take this act as far as she needed to, but as for what happened next? There was no telling what kind of aftermath would be present when the dust settled.

The forbidden fruit never tasted so sweet.

“Ahem.”

My sister cleared her throat from the front seat. I abruptly pulled away and opened my eyes. I watched Danielle do the same. Her irises flashed with something I had never seen before. For the first time in my life, I saw Danielle genuinely taken aback. She was uncertain. Just as quickly as it appeared, that shaken expression was wiped clean by her typical grin. Danielle leaned forward and returned her lips to mine. It was only for a moment, but that second kiss felt entirely different. With the first, I could tell that I had broken through whatever mask Danielle was wearing as part of this act. No doubt I had screwed all of this up. At least it was obvious that Danielle was going to hold out for the duration of the wedding. Unfortunately, I had no faith that things were going to be the same after this was all said and done.

Danielle flashed a pearly smile and let go of my hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

“I’ll grab the bags.” I coughed. “How about you two get us checked in and we’ll meet by the elevator?”

With that, Danielle and my sister walked off. Danielle had her backpack and my sister her purse. Everything else was stuffed into the four suitcases in the trunk.

Five minutes later, I was awkwardly trying to shuffle the suitcases through the thin doorway while Danielle laughed and held the door open for me. Eventually squeezing our way inside the respective rooms. It was a very nice but simple room. Grey walls, two beds, a large TV and an attached bathroom. I hefted both of our bags onto one of the beds right before my sister appeared in the doorway.

“Alright, you two. We’ve got a dinner reservation at six, but we don’t need to leave for another two and a half hours. I assume that you two just want to hang out at the hotel until then?”

“Yeah.” Danielle answered for both of us. “We had to pause the episode halfway through. We were probably just gonna chill and keep watching.”

“Alright, I’m going to take a bit of a walk and see where everything is. I’ll be back before we need to leave for dinner.”

“Have fun.” I chirped.

“If you need anything, just call.”

“I will, Go enjoy your walk.” I said then shut the door.

“Dan, listen—about earlier.”

“What about it?”

“I shouldn’t have done that.” I shook my head.

“Why not? It’s all part of the act, right?”

“No— Yes, I mean...” I slumped down onto the bed and held my head in my hands. Danielle slowly walked forward and sat beside me. Her presence only made the feelings more complicated but I had to fight through it.

“You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to ruin what we have. I put us in this stupid position and I’m sorry. That—was too far.”

Danielle rolled her eyes. “I’ve basically been screaming at you to take this far. I sent you nudes. I could feel your dick pressing into me for the entirety of breakfast. If we’re pretending to be a couple, I don’t want to do it half way. I’ll fuck you right now if it makes you feel less awkward.”

“Hey!”

“What? Why are you freaked out?”

“I— it’s freaking me out—that you’re not freaking out.”

Danielle giggled. “Relax. Everything's gonna be fine.”

“Is it not weird to you?”

“Of course, it’s weird!” Danielle punched me in the arm hard enough that I winced. “We’ve been best friends since kindergarten!”

My shoulders slumped in defeat. Danielle leaned into me. “But being best friends means that we help each other with anything, no matter how weird it is. Granted, I figured that I would be helping you hide a body before I pretended to be your girlfriend.”

We sat there for several moments before Danielle twisted her head up and locked her eyes into mine. Sooner than I could do anything to resist, she pushed just a few inches vertically so that our lips met for the third time that morning. It wasn’t as quick as the kiss that she initiated before, but not nearly as passionate as the one that I gave her. It was a slow, simple, and sweet connection that only lasted for a moment. When Danielle pulled back, she did so with a smile and a flush of red in her cheeks.

“Just because we’re pretending doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy it.”

“What about after the weekend—after we get back?”

Danielle almost, almost seemed disappointed. “That’s up to you. It’s also up to you to decide what we’re doing next.”

“What?” I raised an eyebrow.

“You have to decide if we’re gonna keep watching or if we’re gonna fuck.”

“Oh Danielle.”

She laughed at my horrified embarrassment—something that was happening far too often recently. “Red face, tucking in your chin, all signs are there. Like I said earlier—you are way too awkward about this whole thing, and that won’t convince anyone. If you tense up or lose your composure, then one kiss won’t be enough to convince your sister.”

I tried to find words, but my efforts were nullified by Danielle grabbing the hem of her sweater and lifting it. I was foolish enough to think that she was just getting a little too warm—that was until I saw the bare skin of her stomach get revealed as her shirt came with it.

“What are you doing?”

When she pulled both her shirt and hoodie off over her head, she shrugged. She was wearing a simple white bra but was already moving to unclasp the back.

“You’ve seen them before. What’s the big deal?”

She dropped her bra onto the bed, and I was greeted for the second time by the lovely sight of her shapely, supple breasts. This time was so much better because now they weren’t on my phone screen. They were right in front of me, rising and falling with each of her gentle breaths. The red on her face only deepened.

“Touch them.”

“I—uh, um... you s—”

Danielle sighed, grabbed my hands, and yanked them onto her breasts. Much like the kiss earlier, there wasn’t even really anything physically special about it. Her skin was deliciously soft and warm, like a smooth heated pillow. Her nipples pressed into my palms like rubbery little nubs. I could feel them getting harder under my touch. Really the only thing that made the act perfect was again, the thought of what it was and who I was doing it to. I had been kissing Danielle earlier, and now she was sitting topless beside me with my hands cupping her breasts. Tearing my gaze back up to her face, she was wearing the cockiest grin I’d ever seen.

“If this doesn’t make you less awkward, then I’m not sure if anything will. Do you like them?”

“Uh, yeah?” My confidence was slowly returning with the faith that this wasn’t going to completely crash and burn in front of my face. No amount of confidence was going to make my hands start moving. I held as still as a statue even as Danielle pulled her hands away and dropped them to her sides.

“They’re a little small, but I like them. They’re also not gonna break, so grow a pair and start squeezing.”

I gulped and nodded at her confirmation. I experimented with delicate, gentle probing from my fingers. The skin was soft and pliable under my touch—bending in the perfect way as it conformed to the new shape. Danielle sighed and smiled. I was locked there for several moments, unable to do anything but play with my friend’s boobs. She was probably looking at me. My gaze was fixed downwards.

“Alright,” said Danielle, “that’s enough.”

She stood up, pulling my hands from her chest. Before I could even begin to stammer, she reached down and worked at the button on her jeans.

“Take off your shirt.”

“Uh...” was all I could manage. Danielle finished with the button but made no further move towards lowering her pants. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest like she was waiting for something. Since the act had a double effect of hiding her breasts from view, it helped me come back to reality. Kind of.

“Take off your shirt, or I’ll put mine back on. Your choice.”

Why did this feel like a trap? Surely this was some kind of test, yet there was no way I wasn’t falling for the bait. I slowly reached my hands to the collar of my shirt and tugged to slide it off over my head. Danielle smiled. She lowered her hands, once again baring her breasts. Her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her denim. She wasted no time before sliding her jeans down. Even as she bent over to push them off all the way, her soft eyes never left mine.

When she stood back up straight, she was left only in a pair of simple white panties. As expected from a girl who did several years of cheerleader, her legs were fantastic. Shapely and toned, the pale skin was perfectly smooth all the way from her thick thighs to her dainty toes.

“Same deal as before. Take off your pants and mine stay off, too.”

I was a bit more hesitant this time, but again, the bait was too good to resist. Soon, my jeans were cast to the side just like Danielle’s. Her eyes flicked down towards the fabric tented by my erection and she smiled.

“Now lie back against the headboard.”

I was confused, but didn’t dare ignore her instructions. I shifted from sitting on the edge of the bed to sitting against the wooden headboard, only taking a moment to move the pillows out of the way. Danielle turned around and grabbed something off of the other bed. My eyebrows raised even more when she walked back over while holding her laptop and our headphones.

“Scooch over, make some room.”

I did as she asked, and Danielle slid in beside me. She handed me the laptop for just a moment while she undid the blankets from their tightly made position and slid her bare legs underneath. She adjusted her pillow so that she was sitting up against it, slid right up into my side, and took the laptop again. I was so entranced by the way her mostly nude body felt up against mine and the way her small breasts jiggled with each small movement that I didn’t even notice she had opened up the paused episode until she was handing me my headphones.

“We’re gonna cuddle in our underwear and keep watching until it’s time for dinner, yeah?”

It wasn’t phrased like a question. It was a command that I hastily accepted. Danielle grinned, put on her headphones, and pressed ‘play’. I did the same but didn’t even have a chance to ponder where I should put my hands. Danielle decided that for me, too.

She grabbed my left arm and wrapped it around her back before placing my hand directly on her breast. When I hesitated, she chuckled and paused the episode mere moments after it started playing. Danielle turned her head towards me, grinned, and gave me a quick kiss that seemed laced with whatever devilish magic she possessed. I could barely even think when she pulled back and stared me in the eyes.

“Until the end of this weekend, I am your girlfriend. No pretending. No acts. If we keep being awkward, then this weekend will only end up as a nightmare for both of us.”

“You— don’t want to pretend?”

Danielle smirked, “If we were just pretending, then we wouldn’t be cuddling in our underwear. As far as I see it, this serves two purposes. One, it might just get you a little bit more comfortable with me. If you turn into a mannequin everytime I hold your hand, your sister is gonna see right through it. Two, it just makes this whole thing a lot simpler. I don’t have to worry about acting like your girlfriend whenever your sister is around if I am your girlfriend for this weekend. Screw the act. We’ll figure the rest of this out when we get back home. For now, let’s just do this and worry about making it through the next forty-eight hours.”

“I— uh, okay?”

“Good. Now remember when I said it feels nice having my tits played with?” Danielle winked

I took the hint. My fingers gently probed and massaged at the delightfully soft flesh like it was a warm stress ball. That was, if the stress ball had a steel ball bearing nipple on the front and a heartbeat from underneath that pounded almost as fast as mine. Danielle turned her gaze back towards the laptop, let out a content sigh, and settled into my side before pressing ‘play’ for the final time.

Oh, what had I gotten myself into?

-

Aside from a quick scramble to put back on our shirts when we heard my sister knock on the door, nothing of note happened all the way up until dinner. Well, I scrambled. I slipped my shirt and jeans back on as fast as I could. Danielle took her sweet time. I was ninety percent sure that my sister could see Danielle putting her bra back on through the open doorway. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that; on one hand, it was almost as embarrassing as my sister seeing her naked photos yesterday. On the other, it may have actively helped push the narrative that we were dating. After all, if we were only pretending to date, then why would we be rushing to put our clothes back on?

I only hoped that my sister didn’t notice the erection tenting my jeans. I knew Danielle saw it underneath the blanket the entire time we were watching, but surprisingly, she never acknowledged it. Her eyes would occasionally flick over, but nothing more. No scathing remarks, no witty jokes at my expense. She just left me alone, other than ensuring my hand continued to play with her breast throughout our session.

And oh boy, was that an experience. If it wasn’t for that, I might have actually gotten somewhat accustomed to the circumstance and let my arousal diminish. Yet every time my hand faltered even slightly; Danielle brought hers up to coax me into a continued tit massage. By the time that my sister knocked on the door, my dick was throbbing. It was even harder than the nipple drilling a hole into my palm. Based on the way that Danielle would occasionally shift ever-so-slightly, I could safely assume she was probably as turned on as I was.

Still, she never did a single thing more.

She was my girlfriend for the weekend. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did she genuinely despise the thought of us, but was going full-tilt on the act in a hope that it made it easier to deal with? I just despised the idea of forcing my best friend into a situation she didn’t want to be in.

However, she seemed to be genuinely enjoying some aspects of this, which only served to confuse me even more. If she was so uncomfortable with us acting like a couple, then why did her eyes sparkle so much when she kissed me before we got in the car? Why did she once again insist on holding my hand for the entire ride to the restaurant? Why did she sit so close to me in the booth and rest her head on my shoulder?

“Just because we’re not actually dating doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.”

“What about after the weekend—after we get back?”

“That’s up to you.”

Those words rattled around in my head like a handful of nails in a glass jar. They mixed with the ones from yesterday saying almost the exact same thing. Take the leap. Every image of Danielle frowning when I didn’t reciprocate her actions. Every time she smiled brightly when she took another step in our pretend relationship.

It wasn’t fair. I couldn’t even enjoy my burger. I was too busy trying not to let my inner turmoil show on my face. Well, that and fighting off Danielle’s constant attempts to steal my fries. The only thing that helped to alleviate the tension in my chest happened after dinner. The four of us walked from the restaurant to the falls, which were barely two blocks away.

As expected, Cheonjiyeon waterfalls were stunning. Under the darkening sky, they would have been harder to truly appreciate—if it weren’t for the coloured spotlights that illuminated every inch of the natural wonder. Reds, blues, oranges, greens, purples, yellows, and every other colour I could imagine was glittering through the rushing water and mist to create a shimmering rainbow curtain. One of my hands was held onto the steel railing at the edge of the observation deck. The other was also on the railing, but my fingers were intertwined with Danielle’s. Thankfully, the falls didn’t seem to be too busy tonight which left plenty of room for us to spread out and have a small semblance of privacy.

“I wasn’t expecting much, but that is gorgeous,” Danielle said. My response was automatic—leaking from my lips faster than I could catch it and clamp down.

“Not as much as you.”

Danielle twisted her head to look at me with a raised eyebrow. I could see myself wince in the reflection of her doe-like eyes.

“I’m sorry, was that supposed to be a pick-up line?”

I had to quickly weigh the pros and cons of both possible answers before selecting one. “Yes?”

Danielle grinned. “So cheesy, but I’ll give you some points for effort. C minus.”

“Only a C?”

“C minus,” she corrected.

“I’d like to see you do better.” I immediately discovered my mistake when Danielle’s grin softened until her lips were just barely touching each other. She let go of my hand and raised her fingers to trace gently against my cheek. Once she cupped my face in her hand, she pulled me in. There was no tongue action, no lip biting, or anything else that I figured would be present in a make out session, but this also was not one of the few chaste kisses we had shared throughout the day. Instead, this one was identical to the one I gave her in the car before we entered the hotel in every way except one; this time, she was the initiator.

It was a long, slow, passionate, and powerful connection that made me feel as if I was moments away from total heart failure. I didn’t even notice that we turned to face each other until my hands were on her hips. The kiss was eventually broken by Danielle pulling her lips back a fraction of a centimetre. While our foreheads were still touching, and her hand still on my cheek, I watched her big, beautiful brown eyes blink twice.

“I can’t seem to find my bed anywhere. Can I share yours tonight?”

“I— uh...”

“Score.” She wrapped both arms around my neck with a quiet laugh. I could feel her breath on my face—soft, warm, and smelling faintly of her dinner. “That’s how it’s done.”

“You cheated.”

“Why, because I kissed you?”

“Yeah.”

“What are you gonna do about it? Spank me for being a bad girl?” She lifted the corner of her lip in a cocky challenge. I shook my head, keeping our foreheads pressed together.

“Nah. I’ll just have to cheat, too.”

Our lips met once more, but something told me that I ended up playing right into Danielle’s hands. Perhaps it was the way her arms tightened around my neck to pull our mouths together. It might have been the way she stepped into me so that her chest was pressed into mine. Or it might have been the fact that I could feel her smiling against my lips when I wrapped my hands around her waist. When she tapped her tongue against our connection, that made her earlier words crystal clear.

Until the end of this weekend, I am your girlfriend.

I realized she wasn’t lying. For all intents and purposes, Danielle was my legitimate girlfriend for the next forty-eight hours. When it inevitably changed things between us, good or bad, it would happen after we got back. I wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. There was no coming back from something like this. Even if we somehow managed to stay friends, I don’t think my heart would never be able to accept it.

Two days of guaranteed sunshine. Two days to experience the forbidden fruit before punishment or bliss. Two days was enough.

I opened my mouth and let my tongue meet hers. The evening November air was chilly, but there was no chance of it dimming the heat that pulsed between us. Inside of our locked lips, our tongues danced a moist duet—a challenge to see who would claim more of the other. For every centimetre I delved into Danielle’s mouth, she did the same with mine. The sensation was odd beyond words. Once again, it was special only for the knowledge of what it was and who I was doing it with. There was something deliciously naughty about licking the inside of someone else’s mouth—sharing saliva and drinking their flavour. Danielle was almost taste like a lollipop, if you will—as I lavished in the taste of her mouth. I could even catch a hint whatever it was she had during dinner. It was clear that neither of us really knew the ‘proper’ way to use tongue while kissing, but neither of us cared.

I don’t know how long we spent like that—making out with the roaring falls as our backdrop. It might have just been seconds; it might have been minutes. It felt like hours, but also felt instantaneous. When Danielle pulled her tongue from the front lines of the battlefield, her lips only lingered for a moment upon mine before breaking free. When my eyes opened, they were greeted by the rolling waves of brown mixed with sparkles that stared back at me. We were both panting, holding each other so close that we may as well have been inside of each other’s hoodies. The smile on her face and red flushing her cheeks almost made it look like she was drunk. I didn’t forget my promise, though.

“You must be one hell of a thief, because you stole my heart right from my chest.”

I grinned. She groaned. “God, that was worse than the first one.”

“Do I get extra points for that?”

“... B plus.”

“I’ll take it.”

-

The walk back to the car was silent aside from the general noise of the city. Danielle was leaning her head on my shoulder with a giddy smile on her lips. The car ride was equally silent. There was simply nothing to be said. Not for the walk back into the hotel lobby. Not during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor. Not during the short stroll down the hall to our rooms. The quiet was only broken when I was tapping the key card against the lock to the room.

“I’ll come over a quarter after eight to help Danielle with her dress and makeup, so make sure you two are up, showered, and ready by then.”

I nodded. “I already have my alarm set for seven. Don’t worry.”

When I shut the door behind us and turned around, Danielle had already kicked off her shoes and was pulling off her hoodie. Her shirt rode up a little in the process to show off her perfect skin, but that didn’t matter since it was the next article of clothing to go. I nudged my own shoes off, slipped out of my sweater, and emptied the contents of my pockets onto the nightstand as Danielle did the same.

“What now?”

Danielle looked up from where she was undoing the button on her pants. “We’re gonna put on our pajamas, get into bed, and keep watching our show until we pass out.”

“We?” I gave a grin that Danielle matched and then some.

“I wasn’t asking. You’re a very comfortable pillow, after all.”

“Sounds like a good plan.”

Danielle pushed down her pants, once again revealing her long, athletic legs. Noticing how I was staring, Danielle chuckled and tossed her jeans at me. I feigned surprise.

“What was that for?”

“I’m just trying to get changed into something more comfortable and you’re standing there ogling me, you pervert.” She was smirking with every word.

“Can you blame me?”

With precision, Danielle reached behind herself and unclasped her bra. Despite having literally fondled them for almost two hours earlier, I felt a vein in my forehead pulse at the sight of her beautiful breasts.

“Nah, I know I’m hot. Just know that this show is only temporary.”

Danielle tossed her bra onto the other bed and reached down to the waistline of her panties. My eyes went wide at the implication. Danielle simply grinned and teased the hem of the fabric with her fingers for a few moments. Cloth was lowered millimetre by lustful millimetre. I had already seen the delicate present underneath through the pictures she had sent yesterday, but there was no hope of me not being enraptured by the sight.

“Are you really not going to give me any privacy?” The question leaked out through her pearly teeth. A part of me hesitated. The rest of me answered with a smirk.

“Nope.”

Danielle rolled her eyes, turned around, and slid her fingers under the waistband before gently pulling it downwards. The fabric graciously revealed the flawless globes of her ass and I stopped breathing. Just like with her breasts, the real thing was so much better than a picture. Even so, the sight only got better as Danielle folded at the waist, bending over in a greatly exaggerated manner as she tugged her underwear down. Slowly. The way she was bent let me see the split of her flowery folds peeking out from her thighs as if it were giving me a friendly wave. It wagged side to side slightly as she lifted each leg a few inches to take off her socks. When she lifted back up, she did so with her panties and socks held in one outstretched hand before letting them drop onto the bed next to her bra.

“Enjoying yourself?”

“Very much.”

“Hmph.” Danielle took a step closer to the storage bed and unzipped her suitcase. I took appreciation in every inch of her lovely naked body. The red in her cheeks was bright, but her smile was brighter. She pulled free a pair of white pajama pants and a black tank top. I drank deep in the sight for the few remaining seconds before Danielle stepped into her bottoms. When she pulled on the tank top, I could see the two-pointed tips of her nipples poking against the fabric. Then she looked up with a smile so wicked it sent a chill through my chest.

“Your turn. Get changed.”

Whatever confidence I had was gone. “Uh, what?”

“You got your show, now I get mine. Take it off. Nice and slow, please.”

If I had known I was walking right into a trap, I would have been much more cautious. Danielle sat down on the bed, crossed her legs, and waited. I gulped. My shirt was first, which was most of the way off my head before Danielle made a noise like a buzzer. “Slower, no need to rush.”

I paused; head still covered by the almost-free shirt. I could only give an audible, muffled sigh as I resumed at a slower pace. I dragged the fabric off entirely, leaving my chest When I grabbed a new shirt from my own suitcase, Danielle buzzed again.

“Nuh-uh. All of it off, then you can get dressed.”

“All of it?”

She grinned. “If I’m your girlfriend for this weekend, that also means you’re my boyfriend. Everything that I do for you, you do for me.”

There I was, stuck in the very middle of the trap she had set. There was only one way out. I set the shirt back down and undid the button on my jeans. We had cuddled while I was in nothing but my boxers earlier, but it was the thought of what came next that made my chest clench. I pulled down the denim, hesitating just enough to take them off at a moderate speed instead of fast. Thankfully, Danielle didn’t interject. She didn’t say anything when I took off my socks, either. Unfortunately, she just raised her eyebrows at me when I looked back at her.

“Keep going.”

The face of that double-standard was rearing its ugly head. It was lovely to see Danielle’s extra-special bits. Now that I had to show her mine? Any hint of an erection that may have begun forming at Danielle’s strip show had faded. Still, I had one way forward. I grabbed the hem of my boxers, looked Danielle in the eyes, and tugged them to my ankles. When I stood up, I had to force my hands to my side so that they weren’t covering my manhood.

“Lovely.” said Danielle.

Somehow, I managed a weak smile of my own, then grabbed a pair of grey pajama pants from my own suitcase. I didn’t go commando very often, even if I was sleeping, but the circumstances made it obvious that tonight would be an exception of Danielle’s choosing. When the bottoms were pulled back up around my hips, I still felt oddly vulnerable. Just the way Danielle’s eyes occasionally flicked down as I pulled on a shirt let me know that she approved. When I was clothed again, she shifted across the mattress and rested her back against the headrest in a position almost identical to how she was earlier when we cuddled. Danielle, still with a cheeky grin, then went and patted the open spot next to her.

“Just a moment.”

I reached back into my suitcase, grabbed a long cord that was tucked underneath everything else, then walked over to the large TV.

“I brought a connector specifically for this. We can watch on the big screen and just have the laptop on the nightstand.”

“And you didn’t bring this up before dinner... why?”

I gave the most exasperated glance to Danielle that I could manage. “I’m sure you can understand that I was a little bit distracted earlier.”

“I couldn’t imagine why.”

“Ha ha. Plug that in.”

I walked back to the bed, passed Danielle the other end of the connection cord, and grabbed the remote. It took no more than two minutes to get everything set up properly. By the time Danielle hit ‘play’ she was already snuggled into my side, and my arm was wrapped around her waist. Unlike before, my hand was not clasped onto her breast. Now, it just resided on the side of her stomach. It was intimate in a way that was entirely innocent F just holding her close for no reason other than to enjoy her company.

Danielle rubbed her hand across my stomach. Butterflies fluttered around her fingertips.

“I think you’d look cute in a dress.”

“I better, because I’d be walking down the aisle like a model,” I said.

Danielle smiled then lifted her head. She only glanced at my lips for a moment before moving in. I met her halfway. When we finally pulled apart, Danielle’s eyes were distant.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head for a moment, hesitated, then sighed in defeated acceptance. “I’m horny.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Danielle rolled her eyes and gave a red-faced smile. “Hey, if you had your tit being played with for two hours and then had to leave for dinner, you’d be pretty uncomfortable too.”

“Don’t forget that it was your idea. I was the one playing with it anyway, so let it be known you weren’t alone in your discomfort.”

Once again, Danielle hesitated. That in of itself was a spectacle to witness. She was always so confident, so having her visibly figure out her own thoughts was almost concerning. Even the way she fought to meet my eyes was adorable.

“Do you want to fix that?”

Just the way she asked, that sent shivers down my spine. Before I could provide an answer, Danielle’s hand, the one resting on my stomach, drifted downward. Her pinky touched the waistband of my pajama pants and stopped. Whether she was asking permission or building up courage, I would probably never know. Regardless, the shortness in my breath meant that I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to.

Danielle gently slid her fingers underneath the stretchy waistband, allowing her skin to vanish from sight. From that point, I could only feel her creeping closer, millimetre by millimetre, fingernails lightly dragging against my pelvis. I wasn’t sure if it was a good sign or not that she seemed to stop hesitating. Her fingers traced over my rapidly-hardening member. They were so soft and warm, like my friend down below was getting a lovely hug as she wrapped her fingers around it.

“Someone’s waking up.” Even her confident smile had returned.

Whatever that brief moment of vulnerability was, it was gone. Maybe she was expecting me to crumble under her assault. Maybe she was expecting an attempt at a witty comeback. Based on the way she gasped lightly, I don’t think she was entirely prepared for me to lift my own hand and place it directly atop her pelvic bone. Her skin was hot to the touch, even through her pajamas.

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. The flutter in her eyes and the way she gave a slow, tentative stroke to my shaft spoke for her. I pulled my fingers back and dug them under the waistband. My chest tightened at the feel of her sweltering skin. I could tell that had it not been for the very light pubic stubble, it would have been smoother than glass.

Danielle’s grip around me slowly tightened as my fingers approached the prize. When I slid my middle finger down the split of her sex, both of us let out a shaky breath. She wasn’t kidding that she was horny. She was soaked. Running a finger across her sopping, swollen folds—my digit would be drier if I dunked it in a glass of water. I felt my lower appendage pulse in Danielle’s hand, and I know she felt it too. Just knowing how unreasonably aroused she was eradicated any hope of not being at full mast.

When we locked eyes again, that was when we started moving. Danielle focused on keeping a gentle but firm grip as she eased into a slow, leisurely pace. I matched her own speed while dragging a pair of fingers across the surface of her lower lips. I was given all the permission I needed the moment Danielle shifted her hips upwards just slightly, pressing my hand into her.

“We—ungh, we should take off our pants so we don’t ruin them.”

“That’s an idea.”

I could feel both of our hesitations when it came to removing our hands from the other’s genitals, but I relinquished my gentle cupping of her delicate when she retracted her hand from mine. Danielle instantly moved her hands to the waistband of her pajamas to begin pulling them down. I rested a hand on top of hers to stop her. She looked confused for only a moment. That confused faded the second that I sat up from the headboard, swivelled around the bed, and planted myself right beside her legs while locking eyes.

Even when my hands replaced hers and began tugging down the fabric. The sheer eroticism of slowly, slowly pulling down someone else’s pants while staring into their lust-addled eyes was mystifying. I could never have been more aroused in my life.

Not even when Danielle lifted her legs up, bringing her knees closer to her chest so I could pull the pajamas off further. Not even when the cloth was finally free from her dainty toes and her lower half was left bare. Not even when her succulent, smooth legs parted to either side so that I was kneeling before the prize so brazenly displayed to me.

It was beautiful. Almost as red as the flush in her cheeks, and just shy of being as pretty as the girl it was attached to. The arousal was extremely obvious. I could see that arousal dripping onto the bedsheets. Fleshy folds were almost throbbing outwards, opening up her core like a meaty flower. This time, I could both watch and feel her entire body shiver when I returned one hand atop her lovely mound.

I probably should have been focusing on the task at hand. I should have had my gaze fixated on her sopping slit during my task of bringing my friend to orgasm. I couldn’t. For some reason, the instant that my hand was in the correct place atop her bare pussy, my eyes moved back upwards to stare at her face. I could see her staring right back. Her mouth was slightly agape, twitching occasionally in pleasure or letting out little moans as my fingers began to experiment.

I didn’t know what I was doing. As much as my goal was to pleasure Danielle, an equal part was seeking to learn. To learn in what way I could make her move. When I dragged my middle finger down the entire length of her slit, she shuddered. Spreading her folds with my thumb and pinky made the lips on her face part in a similar fashion. I traced my fingers along the edge of the entrance until I reached a defined nub near the top of her mound.

Danielle’s legs twitched inwards to close around either side of my body and a gasp was torn into her lungs. Despite all of that, our eyes never left each other’s. Fudge and blueberries that glittered through a haze of arousal. I opted to ignore her clit for now—I knew that it could often be too sensitive, at the very least.

Instead, the fingers that were probing around the edge of her entrance decided to begin their delving expedition. A heavy, ragged breath shuddered from Danielle’s lips when my index and middle finger slipped down to the second knuckle. I had been planning on taking it relatively slow and only going to my first knuckle, but the way that her hips bucked downwards into me caused my hand to go deeper. Given that knowledge, I went for broke and slid them the rest of the way in.

I held still for several moments. Part of it was to let her get accustomed to my fingers being inside of her precious vault. The rest of it was so I could get accustomed to it. She was squeezing me from all directions like a warm, fleshy, tight hug around my fingers. Once again, the naughtiness of the action was made relevant simply by the knowledge that my fingers were inside of my best friend.

My best friend, who could offer no words while gazing into my eyes. All she could do was nod for me to start moving.

I pulled my hand back until I could see the base of my fingernails before slowly sending it forward again as far as it could go. My unused fingers were curled against my palm, pressed in between my own skin and the silken wetness of Danielle’s pussy when I hilted against her a second time. And then a third. And a fourth.

I began a moderate but firm pace as I sawed to and for inside of my friend. I was thankful for her lustful grunts and moans; they were confirmation that I was doing an adequate job. Well, that and the fact that her legs were instinctively trying to clamp closed every time she twitched. All I could do was scooch myself forward and lean in so that my torso blocked her unintentional attempts to interrupt my administrations. Her legs were practically resting on my shoulders when I brought my other, unused hand up and started rubbing it along the outside of her thigh.

Danielle’s own hands were not left alone either. In my peripherals, I could see that one of them was now clamped overtop her shirt and was groping roughly at her breasts. I couldn’t see the other, but I could certainly feel it brush against my own as she started to rub her exposed folds. I wasn’t even going to try and pretend that I knew all the best ways to bring about pleasure to a woman, so her assistance was appreciated. After all, who would know how to best bring Danielle to orgasm than herself? She would know where to touch, where to prod, what speed to move, and how hard to press. All I could do was keep my fingers thrusting in and out of her snatch as a stimulating medium while Danielle did everything she needed to. Still, I just wanted to make sure.

“What do you need me to do?”

Danielle almost sounded like she was choking on her tongue as she spit out a response. “Boobs! Pl- hnngh- please!”

That was everything I needed. My hand resting on her thigh instead moved forward. I had to lean in a little bit further so that I could reach her free breast. I was about to begin fondling her through her tank top like she was doing already, but Danielle paused for a brief moment to pull the hem of her shirt up to her armpits. Once her tits were revealed, Danielle continued to roughly grope at herself.

She was already breathing heavily, chest heaving and flushed with red, while the rest of her body was shuddering against me. If that didn’t mean she was close, then nothing would. I just kept my eyes locked onto hers while I firmly pressed my free hand into her breast and began squeezing with far more intensity than when we were cuddling before. Danielle squealed when I pressed my thumb into her nipple—a squeal that turned into a throaty, guttural groan as I moved it almost like a joystick.

For many blissful seconds, Danielle and I were locked in our embrace. One hand each on one of her breasts, and our other both crowding for space at her desperate flower. Her legs up on my shoulders, and both our eyes locked by ethereal chains of lust onto the other’s.

It was nothing short of beautiful to watch Danielle crest the peak of pleasure. Sure, she broke eye contact, but that was because her head pressed back against the headboard and tilted to the ceiling as she gave a loud, strained cry. That just meant that my own gaze was now free to look over the many aspects of her orgasm and how it affected her perfect body.

Her chest turned a shade of scarlet that I wasn’t even sure was possible with caramel skin like hers. The delicate hand on her breast was clenched with such visible tightness I thought she was going to rip her own nipple right off. The other pressing against mine for space in her sodden sex was bearing down on her clit, and I could feel her lock her ankles together behind my back. Through it all, her body shook and quivered like a waterbed in an earthquake.

Her orgasm seemed to go on for hours, but it was probably only a handful of seconds. I didn’t dare to stop moving. My hands only faltered when the hand violating her clit twisted around and clamped onto my wrist to hold still and stop my continued thrusting. Her face was still pointed towards the ceiling for many more long, strenuous breaths before her gaze finally tilted downwards to meet mine.

Her hair was a ragged mess, dangling around her pretty face. Her cheeks were bright red, and there was even a line of moisture leaking down her chin from where she might have been drooling.

She had never been more beautiful.

The post-orgasmic panting lasted for a few moments longer before I started to see the edges of her lips curl upwards. In less time than it took to blink, a full smile was plastered from cheek to cheek and Danielle was starting to giggle. I couldn’t help it. A grin broke onto my own face and I joined in her chuckling.

“That was —wow!” Danielle breathed. “That’s so much better with someone else helping me!”

Wait, did that mean…

I didn’t get a chance to finish comprehending the thought before Danielle let go of my wrist, unlocked her legs from my back, and spread her legs to drop them back to the bed. “Alright, Your turn.”

“Uh, what?”

“You help me, and I’ll help you. Now swap places.”

Right. I guess the original plan was to bring each other to completion, and then I got a bit carried away. Frankly, I had forgotten all about myself during that entire sequence. It was just too much fun to play with Danielle’s special bits.

I could only nod meekly and swallow as the two of us pivoted around each other. When my back was up against the headboard the same way Danielle had been moments before, I felt Danielle’s hands tugging at the waistband of my pajamas. All I could do was lift my hips and let her strip me. Only when my pants were off and my erection was standing proud and swollen did Danielle move in between my legs. I was caught off guard when she didn’t keep a position on her knees like I did.

Instead, Danielle sat right on the bed and wrapped her legs overtop mine. That not only served as a way to keep my own legs open, but spread her own at the same time to give me a lovely view of her flower once more. A view that lasted a mere moment before she scooched forwards until our nethers pressed into each other.

Oh god.

I could feel Danielle’s lower lips kissing up against my balls while my shaft pulsed against her stomach. This position was so much more intimate than what I had taken. When Danielle wrapped one hand around my shaft and began stroking slowly, my mouth went dry. Her fingers felt indescribable clutching to my erection. She slid from the very base all the way to the tip, lingering for a moment before going all the way back down to repeat the process. It was not a long distance for her hand to travel, but every inch felt amazing regardless.

Until she released me suddenly. However, I didn’t dare to question what Danielle was doing, especially not when she squeezed her hand into the gap between our nethers. Her knuckles were brushing up against my balls, and it took me far longer than it should have to realise what it was that she was doing. It was only when she stopped fingering herself and brought her hand back up to clasp around my member when I finally fit the pieces together.

Danielle was going to jerk me off using her own juices as lube.

The amount of blood that rushed to my cock left me light-headed. I felt like I was going to burst. She probably wouldn’t have even needed to lubricate herself, since precum was all but drooling from me at that point. Still, every time her hand glided across my skin towards the head, she swept a thumb across the tip to gather my fluid and add it to the glistening sheen now covering my member. I was transfixed—watching her hand move up and down while her other was braced behind her on the bed.

“Hey, eyes up here.”

I reactively glanced from Danielle’s scolding, and fell right into the trap. It was then that I realised what she wanted. I had maintained eye contact with her for the entire time I brought her to climax, and it seemed she wanted to do the same with me. I also realised that it was an entirely different sensation to be on the receiving end. To stare so deeply into Danielle’s soul while feeling her hand stroke my throbbing shaft was indescribable. She wore her classic grin, maintaining our staring contest even while she leaned back slightly and pressed her mound even further into my crotch.

And she kept going. One hand braced on the bed, one hand rapidly increasing the pace as it worked to hell out of me, and even her pelvis began to grind up across the base of my cock. I could feel her sodden lips drooling against me as she half-scissored-half-masturbated me. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I resorted to clutching onto her calves, holding on like a fucking lifeline as Danielle went about her business.

There wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I could last like that. I doubt I even made it half the time that Danielle did under my administrations. In fact, I had a feeling I didn’t break a minute. I couldn’t even accuse Danielle of ‘cheating’. All I could do was groan and look ahead in the beautiful prison of her eyes while my entire abdomen clenched around my orgasm like a vice.

I felt like I was erupting. My cock throbbed once, twice, and then every subsequent pulse brought with it a stream of sticky cream that sprayed against Danielle’s bare stomach. She kept stroking, kept grinding, and kept staring. I could only pulse in her hand as spurt after spurt of cum plastered onto her skin. It was the best orgasm of my life—that was for damned sure. Even after my balls felt like they were boiling and my shaft refused to spit out any more liquid, I continued to throb with the throes of my climax.

White lines were splattered across Danielle’s smooth stomach, pooling down into her cute little belly button. Her hand was covered in cum, making lewd noises and a slimy mess of my cock as she continued to slowly stroke up and down.

“Feel better?”

I struggled to find words. “Oh... yeah. You?”

“Mhmm.” She smiled. “Now I can definitely focus on the show.”

I noticed that when she rolled down her tank top back into position, she did so without bothering to do anything about the cum staining her stomach. I also noticed that when she crawled back into our cuddling position from before, she made no move to grab our pajama pants. Finally, I noticed that she was pressed up into my side even more so than usual, with one of her naked legs curled over mine.

Then she pressed ‘play’ and the sounds of the show returned.

-

Waking up beside her was such a weird feeling; it didn't matter that butterflies were swarming my stomach the entire time we were cuddling once my eyes were closed; however, morning had arrived, and her eyes did not open until I shook her awake. Danielle slept through the alarm, she had never slept through her alarm.

-

I looked up as I heard the electronic lock click open and my sister walk back in, her makeup bag trailing behind her.

“That was fast.” I said. My sister nodded.

“Danielle’s dress was simple enough as is, and with a face like hers, it’s really easy to put too much makeup. She has such a natural beauty that all you need is a few basics to help draw it out. You can’t improve something that’s already perfect.”

Of course, I didn’t hear a single word that my sister had said. That was because the entire world went silent when Danielle walked through the doorway.

The first thing I noticed were her eyes, but that was a given. This morning, they had looked so conflicted. She kept her cocky grin, but I would catch more than a few glimpses. In my peripherals, when she thought I wasn’t looking, her smile would fade. The glimmer in her eyes dimmed. She would look so distant. All of it just proved that last night was a mistake. Even though she was the one who initiated, I made the fuck-up and ruined everything. Like her analogy, she really was just finding the fastest and easiest way to eat the steaming shit that was this weekend.

Right now, there was zero hint of that trepidation. Her mahogany irises gleamed with confidence as they met mine with a smile. The corners of her eyes were accentuated just the tiniest amount with a shaded seam that solidified the line where it met the lightly darkened skin of her face. When she blinked, her eyelids were dusted in a way that made her cocoa tone a shade lighter—a visual disparity that only lasted a moment yet drew my gaze right back to her eyes when they reopened.

Somehow, her adorableness seemed to be even more prominent. The light pinkish hue adorned her cheeks, trailing down to lips that were just a single shade lighter than normal. In fact, the lipstick was so incredibly close to her own natural tone that I would never have been able to tell the difference if we hadn’t spent so much time kissing yesterday.

Her hair was loose like it normally was, but the natural curls seemed less like she always has never bothered to manage. Now, her luscious locks swept around her face like an onyx curtain, framing the perfect picture until they came to rest just atop her shoulders. It was shaggy, like a wolf cut, but in such a defined and regal way that it could only have been done deliberately. I could faintly see a twinkling of metal through her hair. When black strands shifted, they revealed tiny earrings that were barely more than the studs she rarely wore, but these ones sparkled like diamonds.

Overall, she looked exactly the same, but just... more. Everything that I thought was beautiful about her, which was everything, was simply accentuated by that small amount. Nothing was covered. Nothing was hidden. It was just Danielle in every way that mattered but with an added air of perfection and formality that had not been present so far.

Her dress was one that I had never seen her wear before. That wasn’t much of a surprise, since I had never seen Danielle wear any dress, period. Not even for prom. She had shown up in her hoodie and jeans, loaded a huge container to the brim with anything she could scrounge up from the buffet, stole one of the bottles of soda, then went home. She hadn’t even bought a ticket. Not that I minded —I had been the one driving the getaway car.

Today though, Danielle was no longer adorned in her casual attire. Now it was a white dress that was plain to the eye, but no less phenomenal. It wrapped around her collarbone into a very, very shallow v-neck, with sleeves that went to her elbows. It was taught around her chest and stomach, past her waist, and all the way to the tops of her hips where it opened up just a little into a simple skirt that ended level with her knees.

The only particularly eye-catching parts of her outfit was an almost-wire-thin chain of silver hanging around her neck, perhaps an inch above the collar of her dress, off of which hung a small pendant shaped like a crescent moon. Partnered with that was a bracelet on her right wrist of an almost-identical design, but set with multiple dangling stars instead of a moon, each of which was glittering as they shifted in the light.

She had on a pair of small black socks, but it was not any form of dress shoes covering her feet. Instead, they were her normal, moderately-weathered, black canvas sneakers. Still, it didn’t take anything away from the image of beauty in front of me. If anything, it only made sure to confirm that this was not a different person.

I didn’t realise my jaw was on the floor until Danielle had walked forward and picked it up to stick it back in place.

“Make sure you get a good look, because I’m never wearing this again.” She smirked through every word. My sister shook her head with a smile.

“If that was the case, you could have at least worn heels.” said my sister.

“I’d rather step into the middle of an ant nest.” Danielle said.

Her face was beaming. She seemed so hesitant this morning, but I couldn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. I thought that having her be my ‘girlfriend’ for two days would have been easy after our agreement, but last night threw a Danielle-sized wrench into everything. It wasn’t even what we did to each other that made my heart so weak—it was just the memory of the way she looked at me. Obviously, what happened had affected her just as much, if not more. She had tried to play it off, and I was never good at reading her tells, but this morning was sloppy at best.

All of that was completely gone—wiped off the face of the planet. Her smiling, confident mask was back up in full force. I had absolutely no clue whether it was a good thing or not that I couldn’t figure out what Danielle was thinking. I couldn’t even tell if the way she leaned forward and kissed my chin was genuine, like our previous cuddling, or whether it was just a fabrication of the act. Danielle lifted either end of the tie dangling from my shoulders.

“I see you are going for a ‘bachelor party’ look—like a secret agent.”

“Oh, shut up.”

-

Fitting perfectly into my sister scheduled plan. The parking lot was almost empty, which none of us were surprised about. Still, there were a few cars, and only a couple more faces walking around the venue. Most of it was an outdoor garden of sorts that wrapped around a large central building that obviously served as a large-scale dining room. Almost everyone seemed to be outside at the moment, and my sister seemed to enjoy pointing out family members who were present and explaining who they were. She was talking to them mostly, but I made sure to listen in. It had been years since I last saw any of my extended family, and the chances of me remembering any more than a handful were damn near non-existent.

-

Every word echoed in the battle to try and understand her intentions. Every action or sentence leading me to believe she wanted this was drowned out by an equal number of statements implying the opposite. Danielle had never been a complicated person, but now, it felt different. We weren’t alone. Anything she did now could just as easily be meant to upkeep the lie in front of everyone else. The only time I would be able to get even a hint of more information would be when we returned to the hotel room.

For now, I just had to made sure my heart could hold out for that long.

What made everything so much worse was the fact that it was almost normal. When the ceremony ended and the party continued, it no longer felt like I was trying to keep up an act. Everything just seemed like I was enjoying a very-formal-yet-equally-fun house party beside my best friend. The only difference, and the only thing making the entire situation a strain was the fact that Danielle never left my side for any reason other than to go to the washroom. She had her hand held in mine almost all the time, which prevented me from even attempting to pretend that she was just a friend. Every passing moment, her touch was dragging me further and further underwater. I was drowning.

In all seriousness, she was still easily noticeable. Not many of the women present were wearing white dresses like hers, and absolutely nobody else was sitting down at a table in the corner while using a butter knife to carve a penis into the side of a large candle. I didn’t even need to see it—Danielle left unsupervised in a fancy place like this? She was probably going to start carving a vagina into the table next.

She smiled when I sat down beside her but did not stop her work.

“Wow, that’s quite generous with the length.”

“Not really.”

“If he’s that long limp, how big do you think he gets when he’s hard?”

“He is hard.” Danielle corrected. I could only wince.

“Really? With that kind of curve on it?”

“Mhm.” She nodded.

She brushed a lock of hair behind one ear. Before she could turn her attention back to her elegant artwork, I leaned in. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Somewhere quieter?”

Her eyes practically twinkled. “Ooh, pulling me away somewhere private? We’ll just need to be careful—your sister might get mad if we smudge my makeup.”

“I think she’ll be more upset at what I’m gonna do to your dress.” I joked. “Come on.”

I led her by the hand outside of the building, back towards the swinging bench we had practically claimed earlier. Thankfully, there was still nobody here.

“You know, I don’t think the swing can survive if you rail me on it. Even if it does, can you imagine the splinters?”

“Ha, ha.” I sat. Danielle followed suit, turning so that she was facing me with one leg crossed over the other. Her lips instantly curled into a smile when I leaned forward to press them against my own. It was a quick, chaste connection that lasted but a moment, followed by a second similar kiss, and then a third. The fourth lingered for a few seconds longer before we both pulled back just enough that we were breathing the same air. My chest was pounding, but I had to do this.

“Danielle, I can’t do this anymore.”

The look on her face melted so quickly it almost shattered my heart. “What?”

“This act.” I clarified quickly. “You know I like you since forever.”

“Oh, I know you do.”

“Danielle please, don’t play dumb.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“What I mean… what if I say I want you—for real?

She looked genuinely taken aback. Her response was silence. It lasted for several moments before a small voice leaked from her lips. “So do I.”

“You do?”

When she gave the tiniest nod, I swear my heart could have exploded. However, that feeling shrivelled when she spoke again. “I just don’t know if we should.”

“What? Why?”

She sighed, which I knew was a sign that she was about to hit me with some cold, hard facts. “Nine in ten relationships fail. If we try this and it doesn’t work out...”

“I don’t want that either, and that’s also part of what I wanted to say. I—” The words were surprisingly difficult to get out. “—I want to be in a real relationship with you, but I don’t want it to replace what we had. I like having you as my best friend. I want you to stay as my best friend. I just want you to be my girlfriend at the same time.”

She was quiet for several moments. “I want that, too.”

“Then let’s go for it.”

“What if this doesn’t work out. What if everything goes wrong and we break up?”

“We’ll keep it casual, a little kiss from a friend wouldn’t hurt.” I shrugged.

Some of the glint returned to Danielle’s face alongside a subtle grin. “It’ll be more than just kissing if this works out.”

Despite nothing having physically changed, this one was different in so many ways. It felt like pride and success. It tasted like relief and the slight hint of her lipstick. When her hand rose to cup my cheek, her fingers rested upon my skin with a tingle of passion that was previously hidden. My own hand resided on her waist, feeling her smooth, soft skin through the fabric of her dress. Both of our other hands still had their fingers intertwined with the other and resting in the space between us.

Danielle was leaning forward, scooching closer until she was all but sitting on my lap while the bench groaned its disagreement. We didn’t listen. Our kissing remained at the surface level, mostly, but the entire demeanor was quickly shifting to become much hotter and heavier. I pulled back when I felt Danielle’s teeth gently but firmly close down on my bottom lip.

“Ah, did you just bite me?”

“Maybe.” She grinned. “What are you gonna do about it?”

“Oh, I’ll show you.”

I took the challenge and closed the distance between our faces. However, I didn’t return my lips to hers. Instead, I kissed the edge of her mouth, then used soft, lingering pecks to trace a path down to her jawline. I continued towards her chin, then looped back around the other side where her jaw met her neck. Danielle breathed against me and moved her hair out of the way to make room for my smooches, which then trailed upwards. I had heard a lot about the ear being some kind of minor erogenous zone, so I went for it. I took it in between my teeth and gave a nibble. Danielle moaned and shivered against me.

Then the bench collapsed.

The creaking chain holding up my end of the bench, now having to support two people, came loose from wherever it was secured. Both Danielle and I were dumped onto the grass with all the grace. The armrest of the bench snapped in between the ground and my back, and both of our heads knocked together in a decidedly uncomfortable way until we came to rest with her laying on top of me.

Danielle lifted her head, expression widened in surprise. Her thick hair fell around the both of our faces, framing us like a curtain. It was just the two of us. I ignored the twinge of pain in the side of my head where we impacted against each other and smiled. Danielle did the same with a small chuckle before bringing her head down in yet another kiss. This one was soft, sweet, and gentle—lingering only for a few moments before she slowly lifted away again.

“We should probably get up.”

“Probably.” I agreed.

She stood first and extended a hand down to help me up. When we were both situated, she started raking her fingers through her hair while I brushed grass off my suit. We both turned at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind us.

“Did I interrupt something?” my sister chuckled.

“Nope. Just doing some improvised wrestling.” Danielle chirped.

“What about that?” My sister tilted her head towards the bench, hanging from one end while the other rested on the ground with the armrest broken in three pieces beside it.

“It died from natural causes.” I said.

“What natural causes?”

Danielle and I looked at each other, looked back at my sister, and spoke simultaneously.

“Gravity.”

“Well, since you two definitely didn’t break this bench, we should probably leave before the venue starts looking for somebody to blame.”

“We’re heading out soon?” I asked. My sister nodded.

“It’s getting late, and I don’t want to risk my headache getting worse. I figured we could say our farewells to everyone and get going back to the hotel.”

“Sure.” I said. “Sounds good.”

Goodbyes were brief, especially when we noticed some of the caterers going outside and examining the remains of the bench.

It seemed like a minute was all that had passed by the time we pulled into the hotel parking lot. In even less time, we were standing outside our respective rooms.

“We need to be checked out by eleven, but I want us ready to leave by eight. That way, we can stop by that breakfast place we passed on the way here and have a nice meal before the ride back.” My sister swiped her keycard against the lock.

“Sounds like a plan. Talk to you in the morning.”

My sister gave a knowing smile. “Enjoy your night.”

“You too.”

Soon enough, the door to our room closed behind Danielle and I as we stepped inside and kicked off our shoes. The silence was almost disorienting. The wedding, especially towards the end of the night, had been so loud even if we were outside. The car ride back was much quieter, but the radio had still been playing alongside of our own conversation. Now here, in the hotel room, the only sound was the soft humming of the air conditioner. Danielle gave a curious glance.

“Pajamas?” I shrugged off my coat.

Danielle unhooked her necklace, took off the bracelet, and then reached up to take off her earrings. “Yeah, but I gotta shower first. I need to get rid of this makeup, hairspray and stuff. It felt gross.”

“Want some help?”

Danielle dropped the jewelry onto the nightstand and smirked. “You want to help me shower?”

I shook my head. “I’m asking you if you want me to help you shower.”

“What happened to keeping things casual?”

“Hey, I’m just extending the offer. It’s up to you if you want to accept it.”

Danielle grinned for several moments. “Alright, on behalf of the royal court, I accept your assistance in maintaining my cleanliness.”

“Does they even have royalty here?”

“How am I supposed to know?” She shrugged, took off her socks, and began walking towards the washroom. “Now come on.”

I tore off my tie with such force it might have torn. I wasn’t sure. I didn’t bother to check before throwing it onto the bed and following Danielle. The way she grinned with such a seductive humour was more than enough to tear of my attention. When I rounded the corner, Danielle was holding the hem of her skirt in her hands. The lifted fabric showed several inches of her bare thighs.

“Care to help me undress?”

“Do you have any idea how much of a stupid question that is?” I smiled and walked forward. Together, we slowly worked to lift the dress and peel it off like a shirt. Well, Danielle lifted the dress. I held my hands just below hers as they rose, running my fingers across her body while I pretended to help. Past her thighs and hips to reveal a plain pair of black underwear that almost resembled boxers, but distinctly feminine. It took only a moment to figure it was probably to better conceal her delicate while wearing a skirt.

I didn’t linger on her underpants, since more of her lovely body was being revealed. The fabric rose to her smooth, toned stomach. One inch, then a second, then a third, up to her cute little belly button. I continued to rub my hands along her sides. I didn’t even realise that Danielle had bunched the dress to hold it in one hand until the other flicked me on the forehead.

“I get that you’re copping a feel, but I’m actually need a bit of a hand here. This dress is pretty tight in the shoulders.”

“Oh, uh... yeah.”

My tracing fingers temporarily switched to helpful ones as they hooked underneath the fabric and assisted in pulling it upwards. It didn’t stop me from visually ogling the way her black bra was revealed mere inches from my face. At least, it didn’t stop me until we got to the aforementioned shoulders. We must have looked pretty stupid for the bit of time we spent with Danielle in her underwear while her head and arms were stuck in a dress. Eventually, and with a distinct tearing noise, the dress came free. Danielle didn’t bother to check what part tore. She just dumped it onto the floor and huffed.

“I guess it was a nice dress. Anyways…” She turned around and grabbed her hair with one hand to hold it out of the way. “Mind getting my bra?”

My smile returned, but faded just as quickly when I got my hands on the back of her bra.

“Uhh, how do I...?”

“You pull the straps together, then apart.”

“Like this?”

“Ow, no. You gotta do it like—ah screw it.”

Danielle reached back and unhooked the mechanism in the blink of an eye. She dropped the bra to the floor and turned around.

“Okay, clearly, we’re not good at foreplay, so let’s just skip it and actually take our shower. Agreed?”

I nodded, somehow managing to stare at her face instead of her breasts. “Agreed.”

Danielle pulled off her panties while I went to work on the buttons of my shirt. It was clear we were done wasting time when a nude Danielle’s hands were fumbling with the buckle of my belt before I was even done with the second button. Despite the disposal of intentional foreplay, the simple concept of Danielle pulling down my pants and boxers in one single motion made my lower member get revealed at full mast. My shirt fell onto the floor beside my pants, followed shortly by my socks. Danielle smiled again.

“Better.”

Of course, I looked at her ass as she stepped through the fancy glass door of the shower. There was no possibility otherwise, as made evident by the way she stared at my manhood when I followed suit. I looked at her.

“You do realise that this water is gonna be freezing cold for a bit while it heats up, right?”

Danielle glared. “And you realise that the implication is us keeping each other warm in the meantime?”

Good enough. I turned and switched on the water as Danielle pressed herself up against mine. I could feel her breasts squishing and nipples poking into my back while she wrapped her arms around my midsection. That definitely helped distract me from the sudden, biting chill spraying down against my face. Thankfully, it didn’t take very long for the water to heat up. When that happened, Danielle and I pivoted in place. That meant Danielle had the first crack at the hot water.

That decision was entirely because of how gentleman-ly I was, and not because it meant I was left massaging shampoo into her scalp and playing with her hair in a way I never could before. It was also due to that gentleman-lyness that after we swapped places again so that we could apply soap to her body without it washing off immediately, I focused on her breasts first. After all, being stuck inside that bra all day surely made them extra dirty and in need of cleaning.

Her skin was so soft and pliable under my fingers that it was downright mesmerizing. I pressed myself up behind her and rested my head on her shoulder while I worked. It didn’t matter that my very erect cock was pressed upwards in the crack of Danielle’s ass. All that mattered was Danielle.

Her nipples were stiff like pebbles as I rolled them in between my fingers. Again, just to make sure they were clean. It was an entirely new sensation than when I was massaging her breast during our mostly-nude cuddle session yesterday. With the hot water spraying against my back, her bare body flush against mine, and both of her breasts in my hands, I could have mistaken it for a dream.

“I think my boobs are clean now.” She let out a husky breath.

I smiled. “Just had to make sure.”

I let my hands lower, rubbing the skin beneath her chest. Back and forth my fingers travelled from her sides until they met in the center of her torso, then back again. I took my time heading downwards, faintly feeling her ribcage underneath her skin. When my hands reached her waist, I made sure to spend some time scrubbing her tummy. Once again, I had to make sure she was clean. Nothing more. Danielle even giggled a little bit when I soaped up the cavity of her belly button.

She followed my hands without a word as I guided her to turn around. Then, I set myself back in the same position as before. That meant my penis was now pressed up against her stomach as she hugged me and we rested our heads on each other’s shoulder. Danielle made sure to pull her hair out of the way so that I would examine my work and ensure I applied the suds evenly across her back. It didn’t matter that that soap on my hands had been used up long before I finished with her front and I never reapplied.

Her back muscles tensed and flexed instinctively under my touch. Again, I travelled side to side, slowly inching my way downwards like a printer as I lathered the not-soap across her pale skin. I could feel Danielle smile into my neck when my hands finally curved downwards to grope—I mean clean, the swells of her perfect ass.

From the divet where the cheeks met her thighs to the crack in between, I gently but firmly massaged every possible millimetre of her rear end. I could even feel Danielle flinch slightly when my fingers brushed over her delicate rosebud. I wasn’t quite sure whether that was an opposition to the idea or anticipation, but I decided to play it safe. If Danielle wanted that... cleaned... she could ask me another time when we were both ready for that kind of advancement.

“Alright, time to clean your legs. Turn back around.”

Danielle did so, and this time I made sure to re-lather my hands with the bar of soap she was clutching. Then, I didn’t press myself back into her like I did when washing her upper body. Instead, I knelt down on the floor of the shower so that my face was level with her navel. We had to scoot a little farther back in the shower so that the water wasn’t spraying on her, but it was still hot against the back of my neck. Still, that didn’t distract me as I began working on her left leg.

I started with her feet. She braced herself with her hands against the walls of the shower while I lifted her leg and gently applied the suds to the tops of her feet, then curled down to clean the heel, followed by the bridge, and forward still until I squeezed soapy fingers in between her toes. Then I lowered her leg back to the shower floor and slowly massaged up her calf. As I expected from a girl who do cheerleader, the muscles could be mistaken for braided steel cable. They were only slightly visible from an outside perspective, but the dense core was revealed the moment my hands began kneading her flesh.

Further I continued, up past the inside of her knee, and across her shapely thigh. The muscle seemed like a paradox underneath her soft, delicate skin —like iron wrapped in velvet. I rose more and more up her thigh, circling my hands around to the back and then returning to the front again and again. I rose up so high that my knuckles were faintly brushing against her sweet folds. They were distinct in their wetness, and I know that the shower water had nothing to do with it. Then, I switched to the other leg and did the exact same thing. Foot, calf, then thigh, all slow and methodical as I explored every molecule of my best friend’s body. Well, everywhere except the final spot.

I sat on the balls of my feet and scooched forward even more, bringing my face mere inches away from Danielle’s pelvis. This close, I could see the stubble of her pubic hair just barely peeking out from her pores. I could see the muscles in her abdomen twitch when I rubbed my fingers along her labia. So, I rubbed again. Then a third time.

“Alright, looks like you’re all soaped up. Now for the rinse.” I stood. I could see the annoyance in Danielle’s face even as she grinned.

Still, she never made any opposition as we swapped positions and began working together to rinse off the suds scattered across her slippery body. When the last drops of shampoo were finally washed free from her hair, Danielle chuckled.

“Your turn.”

I knew that was going to happen. Danielle always gave more than she got. Whether it was revenge taken too far on a harmless prank, a sassy comeback turned into a roast felt by the victim, or even a heartfelt gift blown out of the water by a present with love and care all but oozing from the wrapping, Danielle never lost at anything. So, I knew that she was going to take just as much time and effort in ‘cleaning’ me, and then some.

First was the shampoo, and that immediately caused her method of revenge to be plainly obvious. She was pressed up against me as flush as she could possibly be, which meant her nipples were boring holes into my chest as she massaged the product into my scalp. Not only that, she was moving. It was subtle, but distinct. Danielle was grinding on me. My cock was pressed in between our pelvises, but Danielle’s was shifting up and down as she rolled up onto her toes before going back down. She even tilted her hips back just a bit so that her sex would be jutting out to graze against me in a way almost reminiscent of last night’s mutual masturbation.

Somehow, she made it even worse. when she turned me around and started soaping up my body. I’ll admit, I took my time when washing her purely for my own entertainment. It was a delight to admire and massage her perfect body. If it made Danielle feel good in the process, that was just a bonus. I could all but guarantee that Danielle’s own machinations in washing me were nothing more than an attempt to get me painfully aroused. An attempt that worked in stride.

Danielle kept herself pressed up against me, grinding away as she rubbed soapy hands up and down my chest. Furthermore, she wasn’t just resting her head in my shoulder—she was all but nuzzling me. As her hands worked across my torso, her mouth was giving little kisses and licks against my neck. When her head tilted up just enough for her to nibble at my earlobe—still soapy with shampoo.

“Oooh, you’re trembling.” She cooed. Her voice was soft, lips barely brushing against my ear as she whispered. “You must be cold. I can fix that.”

If I thought Danielle was pressing into me before, then she may as well have fused into my skin in the next moment. She was no longer resting into me and lightly grinding, she was hugging me tightly against her, smooshing her slippery breasts even further into my back and sliding one of her legs in between my own. By the time she returned her lips to my neck I was throbbing down below.

Washing my back was even worse, because now we were chest-to-chest. It also meant that she returned to grinding on my pelvis, but with how tightly she was pressing into me I had to fight my instincts to buck my hips. I was pleasantly surprised when Danielle took an interest in ‘washing’ my rear end the same way I had done to hers. I had never imagined previously that a man’s body would be as attractive to a woman as a woman’s was to a man, but that was being presented in full force now. What fun I may have had exploring Danielle’s nude form, Danielle was replicating and more.

When Danielle got onto her knees to ‘wash my legs’, I was all but leaking. Having her knelt down before me, slippery and dripping as water cascaded over her, looking up at me past my throbbing erection—I knew that image would be seared into my mind forever. She didn’t comment, she just smiled and grabbed the soap to reapply. I couldn’t even focus on the way her twinkling eyes were staring into my own—the feeling of her soft, gentle fingers rubbing up my legs in a way that was almost worship overpowered everything else. If this was anything like how it felt for her, no wonder she was being cutthroat.

I expected her to finally touch the one place she hadn’t so far. She would wrap her hand around my shaft and pump just a few times but then pull away, leaving me so unsatisfied like I did to her.

I didn’t expect her to lean forward and lick my lower head.

“Oh” I yelped. Danielle smiled in a way that could make a succubus blush.

“Just making sure that you’re clean. Don’t mind me.”

I didn’t get a chance to respond. Danielle rested one hand on my thigh and used the other to gently clasp onto my shaft. When she moved her grip forward, she used the motion to pull herself towards me and plant a gentle kiss on my tip. Then she pushed back to bring her hand closer to my base before repeating the process. Stroke, kiss, stroke. Stroke, kiss, stroke.

All the while, she was staring up at me with her big, brown, glittering doe eyes. Her wet hair hung in a curtain behind her head, and I could see the curve of her ass resting atop her bare feet every time she leaned forward. She was beyond beautiful.

The shower was practically steaming with the temperature of the water, but that was nothing compared to the warmth when she opened her mouth. The head of my cock slipped in between the small, soft pillows of her lips into a sopping wetness that radiated with heat.

Fuck. Me.

Danielle was actually giving me a blowjob. Just comprehending that sentence in my mind almost made me burst right then. There was nothing I could do but use one hand to steady myself against the wall as my knees started to buckle. Even with her mouth full, I could see her smiling just by the way her eyes twinkled. I expected her to pull off my cock and make some witty comment.

I was never happier to be proven wrong.

Instead of moving backwards, Danielle went forwards, further onto my member. Her lips slid across the skin of my shaft in wet bliss, and I could feel her tongue rubbing against the underside of my cock as she delved deeper. She made it most of the way before she stopped, which told me that the odd pressure on my tip was likely the entrance to her throat.

This was distinctly different than any other ‘sexual’ act I had shared with Danielle previously. When grabbing her breasts or kissing her, the acts were made interesting solely by the fact that it was Danielle whom I was doing it to. This, on the other hand, felt amazing. I couldn’t kiss the back of my hand or squeeze a stress ball to replicate this. No, this was Danielle with most of my little friend stuffed into her mouth and her tongue starting to dance little swirls on the underside. It was Danielle who moved her hand from my thigh to the delicate pouch hanging between my legs and properly initiated the blowjob.

There was no chance of me lasting any moderate length of time. With one hand wrapped partially around the shaft and pressed into my pubic bone, the other gently cupping my balls, and tongue passionately lathering up every inch she could reach as her lips slid forward and back, it was a miracle that I could hold out for as long as I did. By the third time her lips pressed up against her fingers wrapped around my cock, I was groaning.

“Dan, I’m...”

I couldn’t finish my words. Danielle pulled off with a loud, wet ‘POP’ and immediately started pumping her hand at a pace significantly faster than she had been going previously. Even if it lacked the distinct feel of her mouth, the rapid stimulation of her manual milking proved more than effective. A single grunt was all I could manage before I began pulsing. Danielle made sure to bring her face in closely.

The first rope of cum hit her at the base of her hair, but strung down in a thin line across her face. The second splattered against one closed eye. The third shot halfway onto her parted lips, with the other half going through the gap onto her tongue. The fourth and the remaining leftover drops all dribbled onto her chin. Even when no more seed sprang forth to paint her face a paler shade, my shaft still throbbed with release, brought to a much higher level of satisfaction since Danielle never stopped pumping her hand. Her gentle yet firm fingers milked out every drop I was willing to give and then some.

Only after my throbbing pulses ceased did Danielle slow her pace to a crawl, then a stop. She looked up at me with those big, adorable, sexy, teasing eyes. Well, one of them. The other was closed because of my cum sticking to her eyelid. She swallowed.

“Hmph. I was just making sure you were clean and you had to go and get me all dirty. Looks like it’s my turn with the water again.”

I wasn’t sure how I managed to speak as she stood up. “Well, I still need to rinse, so you can wait a minute.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll just have a bit of a snack in the meantime.”

I was confused, right until she dragged a finger across her closed eye to scoop up the jizz. She glanced at it for a moment, then looked me dead in the eyes as she slid the finger into her mouth. I watched her suckle on it like some sort of popsicle until her finger came back out spotless.

“Mmm. Did you have apple today?”

“Fuck off.” We both chuckled and swapped positions once again so that I could stand under the water. Danielle didn’t help me rinse the same way I did with her. Instead, she just leaned against the back wall and made a goddamned show out of scooping up the cream staining her face and making loud, lewd noises as she slurped it off of her fingers. I hadn’t even begun to soften after my climax, and the unreasonably sexy performance in front of me brought an aching arousal right back into my loins.

Distractions aside, I rinsed the soap in record time. It was almost sad to watch Danielle get back under the water and gently scrub her face. Thankfully it wasn’t all bad. It gave me the opportunity to saddle right up against her and hug her from behind. Danielle took several moments to slowly and carefully rub her fingers into the creases of her face, likely to ensure that both cum and lingering makeup were both removed. I spent that time rubbing her stomach, kissing her neck, and occasionally bringing a hand up to brush against the bottom of her breasts.

After a long while, Danielle shut off the water and we moved from the shower into the rest of the bathroom to towel off. She laughed when I took the initiative and rubbed my towel across her body.

“Oh! You’re drying me? Surely this is just a gesture of kindness with no ulterior motives of any kind.”

“Of course, of course.”

I agreed with a smile as she lifted her arms above her head. I greedily drank up the sight of her body glistening in the light like a man dying of thirst. She even had one hip cocked out to the side as if she were a model. I’ll admit, I forgot that I had the towel in my hands. I just wanted to rub her body again.

In a disappointingly little amount of time, her skin was scoured of any droplets of moisture. I couldn’t help but plant a kiss on her belly button as I stood back up, though. Danielle laughed, dropped her arms, took the towel from my hands, and did the same thing with me. Once again, she stepped it up by also using her own body as a towel, rubbing against me like a cheerleader working really hard to get tips at a topless car wash.

I started scrubbing my head with the towel to dry my hair shortly after Danielle did the same and watched as she stepped over to the counter to grab a hair dryer. She must have seen me staring.

“Do you ever get the feeling that you’re being watched by a voyeur perving on you?”

“Nope.” I grinned.

“Got it. Just checking.”

She resumed. It was interesting to watch her glossy, sopping black hair shift into a softer shade. It was equally as dark, but the texture was different. Like liquid ink compared to black velvet. When she was done, she turned to me in all her nude glory.

“Alright, your turn. I’m not letting you soak into the pillow.”

“Fine by me.” I stepped forward to stand in front of the mirror.

“Turn around, on your knees.”

“Really?”

“You don’t need to see the mirror, since I’m the one drying your hair. It also makes it easier for me to see when you’re down there.”

“Whatever you say, your grace.”

I placed my knees on the chilly tile floor of the bathroom and smiled up at Danielle. She clicked her tongue.

“Nah ah, eyes forward. It’s harder to work when your head is tilted like that.”

I wasn’t going to argue, especially when turning my gaze as directed led to her smooth, soft stomach being mere inches from my face. If I flicked my eyes upwards, I could see the outline of her small breasts hovering just above my head. If I looked down, I could see her mostly-shaven pelvis leading towards the present between her thighs. The entire time, I let my hands rest on Danielle’s hips. My thumbs traced lazy circles across her skin. With the added sensation of the hair dryer blowing against my scalp and Danielle working a comb to let the heat wick away any moisture left, it was dreamlike.

Soon enough, Danielle turned off the dryer and set both it and the comb back down on the counter.

“Alright, now we’re ready for bed.”

Danielle led the way back into the room. I noticed how both of us shivered lightly when the washroom door opened. With the heat of the shower, the temperature of the washroom increased a distinct amount compared to the hotel room—a temperature difference that left goosebumps as we walked back towards the bed. Danielle grabbed a pair of pajama pants.

“Wait!”

She halted and glanced over; one eyebrow raised in a silent question. I gently took the pants from her hand.

“Not yet. We aren’t done.”

The other eyebrow raised to match the first along with her smirk. “Oh, is that so? You help me clean up in the shower and now you’re offering some extra stress relief?”

“I'm nothing but a gentleman.” I said.

“Right, what happened to keeping things casual?”

“This is casual. You’ve never heard of casual sex?”

Danielle chuckled. “Which implies the existence of ranked competitive sex.”

“Exactly. Care to stay in the little league and release some tension?”

“You know...” Danielle wrapped her arms around my neck and batted those big, beautiful eyes. “I always imagined my first time would be a bit more romantic than a cheap fling.”

I shrugged. “We could get some sojus from the vending machine down the hall and pretend it’s wine.”

“Hmmm. Might be a bit too fancy for me. Anything else?”

“How about we turn on the TV and do it while watching people get eaten alive?”

Danielle smiled. “That’s more like it.”

“Speaking of eating people, I’m a little hungry.” I cupped one hand against her mound to allude towards my point. Danielle drew in a short breath at the contact.

“Oh? Am I on the menu?”

“You’re the dessert, actually.”

“I am?” Danielle said with a smirk. She jumped backwards unceremoniously onto the bed and slid over so that she was lying almost in the same way she would be when sleeping. On her back, stark nude with her hair sprawled over the pillow. It was reminiscent of yesterday’s fingering, but the implication of what was going to happen next was so much sweeter. Then she spread her legs.

Like opening a treasure chest, Danielle’s delicates were revealed to me as I crawled onto my stomach in between her thighs. Her outer folds were parted and glossy with moisture, while the inner folds were veritably dripping with arousal.

“Well, are you just gonna sit there staring at your meal, or are you gonna take some initiative and eat it?”

I looked up past her pelvis towards Danielle’s grin. “I’ve always been a fan of sandwiches, but this one looks soggy.”

“Go fuck yourself.” She said.

“Not until I fuck you, first.”

It was more for the shock factor more than anything, which I got in spades when I abruptly gave a long, firm lick up the entire length of her slit. Danielle shuddered, legs twitching, and abdomen flinching. Once again comparing the sensation to expectations, Danielle’s most precious place didn’t taste like anything special. It just tasted like, well... Danielle. Perhaps with a touch of a metallic bite, but overall, it was just a taste of clean, freshly showered skin. It had that in common with almost everything else about intimacy. It wasn’t even the act itself that brought pleasure, it was the knowledge about what the act was, and the fact it was Danielle gasping at the sudden contact.

Much like yesterday, I still had no idea what I was doing. I only have the vague idea that I should probably start slow, and then work up into things. However, the surprise lick was too fun of an idea to pass up, even if it starts off a lot stronger than I probably should have. When I gave a second pass with my tongue, it was much gentler than the first. I dragged my flesh along the outside of her flowering lips with a fraction of the pressure. Then I did the same to the other side. I planted a soft kiss to the front of her pelvis, then returned my nose to her skin while I lathered her folds with light swaths of my tongue.

I didn’t even notice that my arms were wrapping around her legs until my hands came to rest atop her thighs like I was preparing for recoil. Underneath her skin, I could sense her muscles shifting and flexing just slightly with the applications of stimulus. Even though I couldn’t see her face from this position, I could feel the calm, pleasured smile crawling across Danielle’s face just by the way her pussy relaxed against my mouth.

Aside from her fingers lazily curling into my hair, she made no movement to interfere with my actions. That left me with all the freedom I wanted. I was in no rush- no hurry to reach the finish. I was simply going to enjoy the journey and hopefully learn a thing or two along the way. After all, the only way I would get better at going down on Danielle is if I did it a lot.

I started slow. That served as a solid baseline for both myself to get acquainted with the concept of eating out my friend, and hopefully to allow for a lovely buildup of pleasure on her end. My tongue traced long, gentle circles across the skin around her slit. Occasionally, the edge of my probing implement would tickle against folds that almost seemed to be reaching outwards towards stimulation. Either that, or Danielle was making minute adjustments with her hips to try and twist herself into my tongue.

That confirmation was all I needed to quickly change my strategy. Instead of using my tongue like a brush against her canvas, I lowered my mouth to cover the entirety of her flower in a warm, wet seal. Danielle twitched amidst a pleasured groan. I could feel her fingers dig their way towards my scalp. They were still loose, but no longer were they merely residing in my hair. Now they held me in a grip that had only enough pressure to convince me to stay where I was. Not that I was planning on leaving anyway.

Those fingers quickly tightened when I dragged my tongue up the length of her sweet sex. I brought it down in the same way, then back up, then back down once more. It was like I was licking her own tongue, but with a bit more texture. The thought made me smile. As of this moment, I had officially kissed Danielle on both her upper lips, and her lower ones.

When I began to lick upwards once more, I took a bit more initiative. My tongue applied more pressure forward and pushed aside folds to allow a shallow entry. Danielle let out a long breath while I lapped up her intimate fluids. I imagined this is what a dog felt like when drinking water- tongue extending to scoop out what nourishment was manageable before pulling it back to swallow. The most I could hope was that my motions were bringing Danielle pleasure.

If licking her folds was better than licking around them, and pushing my way inside was better than staying out, then that surely meant going deeper was the best I could do. So, I strived to use every centimeter of my tongue. I pulled it as far out of my own throat as I could possibly manage while depositing it into Danielle. I stretched it out so far it almost hurt, but that didn’t matter. Silky walls squeezed from every angle and fingers tightened their grip in my hair. Still, I knew it wasn’t enough. This needed to be perfect for her, and I was almost certain that my methods weren’t quite what she required. Despite each of her actions pulling me further into her, I managed to tilt my head out to free my mouth.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Fingers and tongue.”

Her response was given in a single, slow, exhaled breath. The same one that finished with a satisfied purr when I pulled one hand from where it was wrapped around her thigh. That hand reached down under my chin and squeezed its way to lend a pair of fingers alongside my delving tongue. The added mass inside of her was apparent in the way it made her leg muscles shudder. I didn’t need to ask for my next instructions.

“Mmm, lick my clit. Keep going with the fingers.”

I did just that. I pulled my tongue free from the confines of her fleshy walls and focused attention on the small nub positioned at the top point where both sides of her sex met. As limited as my knowledge about this sort of thing was, it was enough that I knew the clitoris was very sensitive. I started lightly, giving nothing more than gentle, rasping licks against its bulbous surface. It seemed like such a small, inconsequential thing to do. Surely such a simple action couldn’t make that much of a difference.

Danielle’s reaction proved otherwise. The transition was instantaneous. Her breath caught in her throat, the fingers in my hair tightened even further, and my other hand had to actually put in effort in order to keep Danielle’s leg from clamping shut around my head. When I curled my fingers against constraining walls in time with my tongue brushing up against Danielle’s button, she shuddered. It became overtly apparent that I was now playing this game on ‘Easy’ mode.

She was much more worked up than she had been letting on, or the effects of stimulating her clit were even more prominent than I thought. Either way, it seemed like Danielle was squirming and moaning within mere moments after providing my directions. She wasn’t faking it either, I could tell that much. Her silky walls were rippling and squeezing on my fingers too much for this to be an act. Glancing my eyes upwards past her perfect body, her face was twisted in pleasure. Her eyes were closed and her nose was pointed to the sky.

It didn’t matter that one of her hands had moved up to clench onto a single breast, since the other was damn near tearing hair from my scalp. I also didn’t feel so bad for cumming too quickly in the shower, since I may still have beaten Danielle’s time.

If I had thought that bringing Danielle to climax with my finger yesterday was magical, doing the same thing while my tongue was on her clit was even better.

It seemed to last forever. Danielle ground her pelvis against my face and hand throughout the entirety of her orgasm. Though it may have been an attempt to get more stimulation, her wiggling ironically made it harder to apply pressure to her clit. I somehow managed.

By the time Danielle finally settled down, the opening credits music had finished playing and allowed for the episode to continue. The noise of arguments considering walkers in a barn was drowned out of existence by Danielle gently tugging on my hair to get me to pull away.

“Mmm, that was pretty good.”

“Only good?” I teased and propped myself on my elbows.

“Yeah. You’d think with all the time you spend watching porn that you’d know how to do this better.”

“Sounds like I need some practice. Care to be my dummy?”

“Heh.” She chuckled. “Is ‘dummy’ in reference to a testing doll, or are you just calling me an idiot?”

“Why not both?” I asked. Danielle smiled in response.

Danielle’s eyes glanced down between my legs towards my stalwart erection. “Looks like our budget foreplay got someone excited.”

I shrugged. “You try going down on someone while watching people being eaten alive. Nothing sexier.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“Only one way to find out.”

Danielle laughed and sat up, crossing her legs so that we were facing each other on the bed. “You know, I missed this confidence of yours. We could cut at each other back and forth and you would never bat an eye, but then you just kept getting so awkward about this weekend.”

I gave a pause before my answer. “Well, I was afraid. I got us into this mess, and I thought that us having to pretend to be dating would screw everything up.”

“I told you; everything is gonna be fine.” She said.

"Everything was fine until you started acting all lovey-dovey, and I had no idea how to react. I thought that if I did it again, it would be weird."

“It was already weird, dummy.”

“Weirder, then.”

Danielle brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “So, you decided to spill your guts and you think everything’s fine because now I’m your actual girlfriend?”

“Oh, not at all.” I shook my head. “I’m still terrified of saying the wrong thing. I’m just matching your energy and hoping I don’t step too far.”

Danielle raised an eyebrow. “Matching my energy, huh?”

“Yep.”

“So, if I were to say that this was my first time...”

Danielle placed a hand on my chest and pushed, forcing me down onto my back. I could only watch in anxious desire as she got onto her knees and scooched forward until my cock, angling to the sky, was held against her pelvis like she was measuring the depth. She even kept it in place by wrapping her fingers around it and holding me against her. If I hadn’t cum in the shower earlier, I probably would have done so at the thought of what we were about to do next. The end of Danielle’s hanging sentence was filled with implications.

“…what would you do?”

I smiled. “I’d respond by asking if you had condoms in your bag like you had this all planned out.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to have for dinner until five minutes before. What gives you the idea that I could plan something like this?”

“Good point. I take it that means you don’t have a condom hidden away somewhere?”

Danielle shook her head. “The only reason I agreed to come was just so I could tease you about all this.” She then smiled. “Falling in love with you turned out to be a happy little accident along the way.”

“Wow that’s first” She laughed. I rested a hand on her thigh. It was hard to focus with her lovely figure all but straddling me, yet I managed to keep it together.

“Jokes aside, because I have a serious question.”

“Why so serious?”

“Danielle.”

“Okay, sorry. Question?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I glanced down towards where her hand was pressing my shaft into her stomach. “Without a condom?”

Her face softened. “I think so?”

“You think so?”

She frowned. “I mean... kinda. I want to do this. Like, a lot. I really, really want this, even if we don’t have a condom. But I know that we shouldn’t do it without a condom. But I also know that you can always pull out, and then we can also get a pill or something tomorrow. Plus, it’s a safe day so the chances of anything are pretty much non-existent anyway.”

“So, the verdict is...”

Danielle closed her eyes for a moment, let out a deep breath, then opened them again to reveal her melted chocolate irises.

“Yes.”

Danielle responded in kind with a wink, since her hands were occupied. One was placed on my chest to brace herself as she lifted her hips enough so that my member was dragged until it rested against her lower lips like it was knocking for entry. The other hand held it there, pushing lightly until it lined up just right. The head of my cock was nestled into the lovely nook, just lightly spreading apart the folds like they were curtains covering a window. Danielle held there for many moments until I glanced upwards.

“What, is this the one and only time the amazing Danielle nervous about something?”

“Oh, shut up. Of course I’m nervous. It’s my first time.”

“Mine too.” I argued. Danielle rolled her eyes in response.

“Yeah, but you aren’t gonna be the one bleeding for it. This is gonna hurt so gimme a minute, you jerk.”

I held up my hands. “Geez, okay. Take your time.”

Danielle visually steeled herself. She waited a few more moments, took a deep breath, then carefully began lowering. It felt heavenly. The head of my cock slipped inside of her warm, wet tunnel, immediately being squeezed from all angles like the most intimate and naughty of hugs. She held there for many moments, taking deep breaths and preparing herself. I waited patiently for her to continue.

I didn’t expect her to drop.

Right down to the base in one, swift, solid motion. One moment, my head was languishing in the confines of her sex, and the next, it was shoved to the depths while the rest of my shaft was engulfed. Danielle shuddered on top of me while I made several un-masculine noises. When I finally brought my vision back into focus on Danielle’s face, I expected to see it twisted in pain after she just impaled herself. Instead, she was visibly straining to keep from laughing. She failed.

It was like a melody of humour while I struggled to comprehend what was happening. Soon Danielle rested her other hand on my chest with a smile.

“Oh, you should see the look on your face right now.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” I asked meekly.

“Not at all.” She smirked and ground her hips side to side. Her inner walls rippled against me in oh-so-lovely ways.

“How?”

“I’ve been doing sports since I was five. My hymen fucked off before I even knew what it was. Even if it didn’t, my toy would have cleared up whatever was left years ago.”

“Huh, wait... a toy?”

“Mhm.” She nodded. “It’s pink and squishy. You’ll have fun using it on me when we get back home. For now...”

Danielle lifted her hips almost as quickly as she had dropped them, right up until the only thing residing within her was my lower head.

“...I don’t feel like taking it slow.”

Oh, dear god.

When Danielle dropped again, I nearly saw stars. Then she rose and repeated the action a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. All the while, she was only gaining speed. I had been expecting slow, careful sex for our first time, but she was a veritable piston as she went up and down. To think that Danielle, who mere days ago had been my casual best friend, was now riding me like — well, it was almost too much. All I could do was put my hands on her hips. I didn’t even notice that she had moved off of her knees and into a full crouch for a maximum-efficiency-cowgirl ride.

I could feel the way she clenched around me every time she lifted, like her insides were desperately clinging on to the stimulation. Meanwhile, every time she hilted me once again, I could see her modest breasts jiggle. They were mesmerizing, despite their smaller size.

“Hey, my eyes are up here.”

“I’m just—oohh, imagining putting googly-eyes on your nipples.”

When Danielle bottomed out once more, she stayed there. Her eyes drilled into mine for many moments before her lips curled into a response.

“Boobly eyes.”

We both snorted out a chuckle. I could certainly feel that. She rippled around me, and just as quickly, she let out a shuddered gasp.

“Ooh, it feels weird to laugh when you’re deep inside me.”

“Bad weird or good weird?”

She smiled. “Ohh—good weird. Definitely good weird.”

She should have known what I was going to do next. Unfortunately, I think the context of the setting was just enough of a distraction that she didn’t put all the pieces together in time. I saw her face twist into a warning.

“Wait, don—”

Too late. My hands, on her hips, immediately started to flick and brush against her sides. She revealed yesterday on the couch that she was ticklish. That mistake was quickly brought to light as I unleashed an all-out tickle assault.

She squealed out, eyes wide, and clamped down on my dick with the force of a handshake between two guys trying to see who winces first. Her hands desperately reached for mine, but I was quicker. Wherever she grabbed, my fingers had already tickled and moved on. Hips, thighs, back, armpits, anything I could reach was a target. I was sitting up to be able to claim more ground as Danielle fought back in blissful agony. Eventually, Danielle had retreated enough that she fell back onto the bed and I was now leaning over her—still sheathed inside her sex. Her hands may have been pushing me away to end the assault, but I don’t think that she even realised her legs were firmly locked together around my waist to keep me buried inside her.

Somehow, I managed to lay my weight down on top of her, pinning her hands in between our chests. Meanwhile, mine were free to explore and tickle away at her waist. She writhed underneath me, head twisting back and forth as she giggled and moaned. Any hope of a facade or confident act was gone. Within moments, tears were streaming down Danielle’s face and she was gasping for breath.

“Stop! Stop, ohmygod please!”

I could easily understand the reactions. The way that her velvet tunnel was roiling around me made her expressions obvious. Every time my fingers brushed against her; she squeezed taught on my shaft. If it felt even half as good for her as it did for me, then that combined with the actual tickling would be nothing short of overwhelming.

“Please, pleasepleaseplease! Oh my fucking god please stop!”

I relented in my attack, but it wasn’t for Danielle’s sake. If I continued, the way her pussy was milking me would have made me empty the contents of my balls in record time. I ceased the movements of my hands and held them still on her waist, using her as leverage to push myself back up so that I was leaning over her. The instant that her hands came free, she opted to hit me. A solid, square punch right into the sternum.

“Asshole!”

“Hey, you said it felt good when you laughed.”

“That doesn’t mean you start tickling me!” Her voice was angry, but she was all smiles.

“You liked it. You almost came.”

It was an educated guess, but apparently one that was spot on.

“Yeah? Let me tell you—there’s a difference between enjoying something and something feeling good. If you ever want to do that again, you better hope that I’m tied down because I’m gonna fucking stab you after I cum.”

“So BDSM is a possibility for the future. Noted.”

She blew an errant lock of hair away from her eyes and smirked. “Laugh it off, dumbass. Just know, if we do that, you’re the first one getting tied. Let’s see how much you like getting tickled while balls deep inside of me.”

Danielle unlocked her legs from around my waist and ground her hips like she was stirring a pot of soup using my dick as a spoon.

“Now come on, I was close.”

“So was I, which is why I stopped.”

“I’m not asking you to keep going. I’m telling you. Now.”

I gave an exaggerated sigh of mock reluctance. “Fine. If you insist.”

This time, it was me doing the moving instead of Danielle. Instead of her bouncing up and down atop me, I was the one doing the thrusting. We were locked in a pseudo-missionary position as I brought my hips back slowly before sending them forward once more in a swift motion. It was ecstatic. To look down beneath me and see Danielle, hair spread around her face like an angel’s halo, was nothing short of a miracle. I was fucking Danielle. I was fucking my best friend. I was fucking my girlfriend. My best friend Danielle. My girlfriend Danielle.

When I stared into her eyes, I could feel the desperation quickly building on both of our faces. At least we were both premature. Danielle gritted her teeth and spoke in between grunts of pleasure.

“Don’t you fucking dare cum before me.”

“Dan, I…”

“No. Don’t do it. Don’t, you stupid piece of shit. Just let me cum, fucking make me cum and then you can cum.”

“I don’t…”

Danielle pulled me down so that I was lying on top of her again, but this time her hands were free to hold taught onto the sides of my face as she smashed her lips against mine. I could feel her heartbeat pounding into my chest, or maybe it was my own. Either way, it felt like one of us was about to go into cardiac arrest. Danielle’s legs wrapped firm around my waist once more, which I could only vaguely consider a bad idea. The rest of me was desperately trying to hold on while Danielle convulsed through the beginnings of her climax.

If it felt amazing having her cum on my fingers and tongue, then there was no word in the English language that could describe the sensation of having Danielle squeeze down and shudder on my cock. Every millimetre cinched within the silky confines of a fleshy, vibrating hydraulic press that desperately sought to milk me in the way nature intended. It was bliss. It was agony. It was a sensation that I fought desperately to resist as I strained my muscles.

That wasn’t the only battle I fought in that moment, either. With Danielle’s legs locked instinctively around me and her cunt gripping with the force of a god I didn’t believe in; I had to force and push every muscle in order to try and pull out. It was not simply a battle—it was a war that needed to be won.

I lost.

Danielle and I both groaned into each other’s mouth as I slammed my pelvis back against hers. If she wasn’t going to let me pull out, intentionally or not, then I wasn’t going to try anymore. With my shaft buried as deep as it would go and Danielle twitching underneath me, I gave one single, powerful throb before the flood gates opened.

I don’t think either of us were cognizant enough to be aware of what was happening. We were both too locked into the throes of pleasure to resist, so we just let it wash over us like a tidal wave. Danielle swallowed my moans as I weakly attempted to thrust my buried cock further inside, firing off streams of sticky seed like a Super Soaker all the while. Every time I pulsed inside, Danielle did the same in response, which drew forth another throbbing jet from myself. A feedback loop of stimulation and pleasure shot through us both. I knew that I had stopped dumping spunk into Danielle after a few seconds, but that did not stop the aftershocks of our conjoined orgasm from shattering through us for what felt like a full minute of ecstasy.

When our lips finally parted and our eyes opened barely a centimeter from the other’s, we were both panting heavily into each other’s faces. I could smell the cheesecake on her breath.

“You didn’t pull out?” Her voice was a whisper.

“You didn’t let me.” I responded in kind. I watched her bite the inside of her cheek.

“Alright, I’ll take the hit for that. Since plan A failed, we’re going with plan B.”

“Plan B as in...”

Danielle chuckled. “Plan B. Gotta say, they nailed it with that name.”

“I guess they did.”

I lowered my head into the bed just over her shoulder. We were quiet for several moments, the silence only broken by the sound of an intense conversation coming from the TV. After a bit, Danielle nuzzled into my neck.

“You can get off me whenever you feel like it.”

“What if I don’t feel like it yet?”

“Fine. Let me rephrase; get the fuck off of me so we can cuddle and watch our show, or I’ll shove my foot so far up your ass I can tie my shoes with your dental floss.”

“Wow. Very romantic.”

Danielle was all but whispering into my ear. “You want romantic? Wait ‘till you see what I do with my other foot.”

“Okay, okay.” I chuckled and pushed myself back up onto my knees. I slowly withdrew my softening member from Danielle’s lovely pussy. The only fluids dribbling down her folds seemed to be her own, which made sense. Lying down like this- gravity couldn’t really pull my cum from inside her. Not that it looked like Danielle minded. She just grabbed my arm and roughly yanked me down beside her. It only took a few moments of readjusting before we were back into our patented half-sitting-half-laying cuddle position, with one of my arms wrapped around Danielle’s waist and her head on my shoulder. Her hair smelled like cheap hotel shampoo.

“Ahh, so much for keep things casual.” Danielle murmured.

[yourlocalsmutwriter]

Kutning's Dag - Max Verstappen x reader

cw: dubcon/ cnc, rapeplay, intox kink, unprotected sex, creampie, public, perv! Max, icky! Max

At this point in the season, Max Verstappen needed a miracle. He had heard it all, at the start. That the car was so fucked he dragged it first to podium, then to the points, but what happened when this was not the case. Amateur theorists- that's what he called F1 podcasters- had predicted that it would be sooner than later. And he had shut them down in Japan. Suzuka was a dream. Fourth consecutive pole there in the last seconds of quali. Fourth consecutive win there, the return of the F1 outro, as the fans dubbed it. But the Dutch anthem didn't stick around the podium for long. There were a few hiccups after, but not for the McLarens. His 1 point behind Lando was gradually increasing. He was feeling like a fish out of water, for the first time in his career. The retirement jokes he so brazenly made during previous months were now met with hushed whispers. It didn't help that the Redbulls were down in the constructors championship too. They took Liam, and with the way Yuki was driving, Max could bet one of his cats that Hadjar was getting fitted for a seat soon, whether the rookie driver wanted it or not. Verstappen's fake Instagram even liked a few Helmut Marko as the 2nd driver memes, a bunch of Daniel cursing the thing too. But it seemed to be true now.

So Max Verstappen desperately needed to win the Miami Grand Prix. After a triple header that started promising and two weekends of pure hell, something needed to be done. Whatever. Literally anything. He remembered last year how Lando's first victory in the sunny state triggered this chain of events. This championship contender narrative that was heating up between the two since. Lando then, with his little nose scar, who had been partying in the Amsterdam canals before. A metaphorical lightbuls sparked up above Max’s head. If you can't beat them, join them. He was going to celebrate King's Day for the first time in a while.

Of course, he used to honor the holiday as a teenager. Which 17 year old doesn't go across the border to the Netherlands to drink copious amounts of alcohol in the streets. He was lucky that his mom and sister brought him in at the end of the night. It was a fun time. Lots of bad beer. Crowds of loud people dressed head to toe in orange. Music that everyone knew shouted at the top of one's lungs. Then, with the years, he was too busy racing for such frivolity. But now the calendar was smiling up to him, a nice little break between Jeddah and Miami. It was a nice opportunity for him to fly back to the Netherlands, try the "Lando method," and come back. Copious amounts of gin tonics and a few kebabs never hurt anyone. Especially on King's Day. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do. Nevertheless, Max did it.

Once his plane touches down on Dutch soil, he realizes this was a mistake. He's forced to take a train and be packed like a sardine in first class. "No, I'm not him, but I get that a lot," he says, ad naseum, eyes glued to the maroon seats around him. Once he makes it to Amsterdam, he all but scours the city, going from store to store, trying to see if there's any alcohol left. He piles premixed cans of gin and tonics into his Alpha Tauri backpack. He sure is an ambassador now. But his quest isn't just a way for him to grab some booze. No, he's strategically scoping out areas where he won't be spotted. Where the crowds were just drunk and rowdy enough to ignore him, but not thay quiet and sober that he'd be bored. One would try to rationalize that most people didn't bat an eye at Lando. Who knows, Max could even accidentally spot the Britton on his way, dj skills being tested on a party boat. And people wouldn't care. We'll that was a bit harsh, there would be many overjoyed fans. But not as many as Max's. It was the fucking Netherlands, we was treated as the second coming of Christ. Or the first, depending on the province. Amsterdam was definitely not on the Bible belt, so that was that. Still, the Dutchman took some precautions. He hid out, going over to long lost friends' houses. People who he had known since karting, all drinking together, wearing orange, and treating him like a normal guy. Yes, there were some offhand comments about F1 and the Redbull performance. There's a few people trying to get him to help them with their fantasy team too.

He offers them a pass at his own ranking if they beat him at a drinking game. And those he never loses, always choosing to go for reflexes or showing feats of physical strength. After all, those hours in the gym aren't for nothing. Max is more than pleasantly buzzed by the time they have to leave. It's past 10, and people are already plastered. Of course, this was strategic. It was more plausible that people got a mass hallucination of Max Verstappen after a few dozen beers. He steps out through the crowd, shoes already sticking to the pavement. The smell of sweat and vomit and beer is in the air.

Max reflexively pulls the orange army cap over his own face, especially when they play anything by Maxx Power. He grins when they play 5 remixes in a row, the dj shouting something about a 5th WDC incoming. Max is happy that at least the fans are happy they believe in him, albeit delusionally. He relaxes, the tension sliding off of him like dirty air. He's too relaxed, almost, and now his mind is wondering how. Yes, the 6 pack of gin and tonics helped. He almost sniffs the air and gets hit with a string smell, similar to the one from the house. He reluctantly takes a hit of this green electronic thing and coughs. It's good, but weird.

"Didn't know vapes were this popular here?" He shouts to his friend, who deadpan that it's weed. Of course, Max almost smack his forehead. He's contact high, just like half the grid was in Vegas. He remembers that day, letting the flashbacks warm over him. Yep, he was fucking fucked.

Max decided that he'd fight the weirdness and tingliness of his body by people watching. What better way to be distracted by analyzing others. He blends into the crowd, only because people are packed like sardines. Mostly friends, big crowds of people dancing, drinking and shouting with each other. He doesn't miss the rowdier ones. There's couples making out and dry humping all around him.

He feels like a teenager all over again, that awkward virgin 17 year old at house parties. Hormones not as contained as he'd like to, popping a boner at other people's activities. If he listened very hard, everything was sexy. He'd hear the little moans and groans of the couple, the pleas for more. Everything made his cock stand up and throb painfully in his pants. And now, 10 years later, it's the same. Max never pegged himself as a voyeur. But now, with every sensation in his body heightened, he couldn't help it. And with his dick needing release and fast, he sets out to find someone willing to do that. His gaze searches, he's like a hawk looking for a bunny. And his eyes land on you.

You hated King's Day. It was a stupid holiday, a Saw trap thing made to torture you. You hated the gaudy orange color. The public drinking. The stupid songs you didn't know as a foreigner. You should've stayed home. But here you were, freezing in a two-piece set. You hate the flimsy fabric of the thing. You only ordered it last minute to impress an ex, who you knew you'd run into. You didn't expect to find them with their tongue down the throat of a mutual acquaintance. But you made a vow that you'd make out with someone. So far, your lips only touched the bottle. Whatever they were drinking was strong, made you feel woozy and light. At least you were doing King's Day right, getting very intoxicated. You didn't even flinch when you felt a pair of hands glide dangerously close to your ass. The whole night, it kept happening, accidentally, sometimes not. It was the crowds, you reasoned, because you were practically sandwiched between many backs and elbows. Then someone did really feel you up from behind. God, his fingers were deliberate. Groping, touching, all short of clawing. Needing you, needing this, and it was gross. The man apologized, a faint sorry from under the rim of an orange hat. You had mentally prepped a joke about redbull giving him more than wings or an aggressive overtake. And then he does it again, this time his hands loop against your hips, seemingly trying to move you out of his way. His fingers hook against the straps of your orange thong and snap them. You want to scream, yell, to tell him to stop. But it's as if you've swallowed cotton. And the warmth of someone's touch against you was clouding your judgment. The stranger lets his fingers move up your bare stomach until your tits. He flicks at your already hard nipples, a little hum of appreciation. He comments that you're practically asking for it by not wearing a bra.

The voice is familiar, even though you can't exactly place it. Didn't all Dutch men all kinda sound the same. This one's hands were kneading your breasts roughly, more for him than for you. He was whispering absolute filth in your ears, the brim of the hat he won't take off digging into your shoulder. He smells like a gin brewery that was next to a coffeeshop.

"Look at you, just letting me touch you. Aren't you ashamed that a total stranger's groping your tits. Right in the middle of Amsterdam, mind you, with thousands of people around you. I think you like it. I think you're a little whore. Because if you wanted to, you could have asked for help. Look there, bimbo," he says as he grabs your chin and tilts your head towards the police at the edge of the crowd. "You want me to stop? Let's walk over there, and I'll let you report me. Hell, I'd even turn myself in. Yeah? Go tell the nice cop about me, I'm right behind you."

You try to move, and he follows. The stranger even lets his hands fall from your chest. But with every step you take, you end up going 3 steps back. It's a Sysyphean challenge. You stop suddenly, and the guy stops with you. You two are surrounded and pressed against each other. You're not sure who makes the first move again. You just know that you're rubbing your ass against his hard cock like an animal in heat.

He rolls his hips against yours, lifting your skirt with every movement. He can't help but knead your ass, feeling your skin prickle under his touch. When the stranger hears a low wolf whistle, you're dragged, literally through the crowd. He's taken his cap off and he's barking orders in Dutch and English, parting the people like they're the Red Sea. He ducks with you in an alley and you swear your drink was laced.

"Max Verstappen? What the fuck are you doing here?" You say, still unsure of what was happening. He shuts you up with a kiss, a bit sloppy and needy. You kiss him back, but then it all starts to be too much. He was a renowned athlete, a role model. Not someone who got a bit too handsy. That dawns on both of you at the same exact time.

"You could ruin my life. You could actually go to anybody about this, and they'll strip me of everything. It'll be Mazepin again, but this time with consequences." He says, and instead of stepping away, he begins unbuttoning his jeans. Sliding his boxers away and taking out his cock. Sizing it up against you. You plead with him.

He pretends to think as his hands go in your panties. He tells you how he's in deep shit as his fingers rub your clit. He goes on about how you should report him, how despite his celebrity status and the inebriated state you're both in, he's going down. You try to mention police injustice, how the odds are against you, even bring up Christian Horner. Your body betrays you as you talk. Your hips snap to match his movements.

"They'll come up with some bullshit excuse. That I was too wet or something. No signs of struggle, no bruises on you or something of the sort." You chastise, as he slides his fingers inside of you. One, then a second, in a hooking motion. He moves them with precision and you blush. In the small alley the sounds of your wetness echo. Max knows exactly how to press his fingers inside of someone to make them fall apart. You cum against him, despite yourself. You press yourself close to him, shut your eyes and let the orgasm wash over you. You're limp, letting him tap the head of his cock against your clit. Allowing him to thrust inside of you, burrying himself to the hilt. Telling you that "if he's gonna go down for this, at least he's gonna make it worth his while."

He tells you how good your cunt feels, how well you take his cock. He holds you down, muscles pressing into you, keeping you in place. He goes on this tangent about coming inside of you, leaving you something to remember him by. You don't have the heart to tell him he's the first and only man to fuck you raw. That his blue eyes and all of today will haunt your dreams. You can't express that what he's doing to you terrifies you, yet thrills you. That you just might be sick in the head for not hating this. Your warm wet cunt was drawing him in. Wanting him. Needing him. You bite your lips bloody. Yet he still catches your whisper of "please, come for me." His thrusts become faster, and he spills inside of you. If this were real life, he'd leave after that, blend into the crowd, and accept his fate. He'd wait for the other shoe to drop and get what was coming to him for being a disgusting pervert who touches women.

But it wasn't real life. Max was in a stupidly expensive Monaco sex club. Their new marketing ploy - get you in the door for a free visit and impress you so much you come back. He had to hand it to them, they followed up with him like a champ. Getting extras to play the drunk and disorderly dutchies. Even the set of the alley was good. Max casts a glance at you, his throughly fucked out girlfriend. You're sleeping with a grin on your face. He remembers the day you told him about your unusual kink. How the two of you would dabble in it, occasionally. He'd pretend to break into your shared apartment and rape you. You had been so loud and rowdy that night that your neighbors called the cops on you. But just before the sirens, you had come on Max's cock so hard, he swore he could marry you right then. After he was done politely explaining the misunderstanding to the policemen, he started googling. And a couple months later, here you two were. Completely immersive experience. And no sheets to wash. Max feels bad for the person who has to clean the floor after you squirt on it. In his defense, you didn't even know you could do that. He lets himself be photographed leaving the club with you in tow. Shoots off a few messages to his friends and the other drivers on the grid to also try it out. If he creates enough buzz, they'll give him a discount. And it's not as if his hefty paycheck doesn't allow him to visit sooner. Especially after he wins Miami. Because he has several bets going on - one with Christian, one with GP and one with Lando. He gets them all, collects the cash and says he'll invest it. He puts it on another night with you. Because the true key to Max Verstappen's winning strategy was a well fucked girlfriend.

[cherry-leclerc]

we never talk about it ☆ op81

genre: humor, angst, yearning, massive crushes, and lots and lots of miscommunication, assistant!reader

word count: 11k

It's unwise—longing for someone like Oscar. While he's the epitome of someone anyone can easily fall in love with, you're the epitome of a devoted girl who will fall in love with him. You might not even care too much about all the heartbreak you endure along the way.

inspired by sharpest tool, sabrina carpenter !

cherry here!... based on real events.

Do you remember the day we first met?

The wind doesn’t do its job in blocking him out, the way you prayed and wished it would. You’re still able to catch the crack in his voice—a distant reminder of the way it once made you giggle. Even his nose is beet red, matching the Christmas lights. But apart from all that, you still hear him. You still see him. 

You always have.

“A little bit. Yeah.”

He flinches, then tries to play it off with a soft smile. Like he doesn’t want you to uncover the slight hurt he feels. But he can’t read your mind. He never could. And that was the problem.

Oscar nods, feigning indifference. “I do. Remember it all, I mean.  Think back to it quite often."

-

It’s utterly useless to try and ignore him, really.

His hair is too fluffy, his eyes are too bright, and his accent is making you want to flaunt the way some loony character would with a hand over their heart. It was honestly a tad bit demeaning.

But you can't help it. You admire the way his brown locks fall in a lousy manner when he towers down to sign the contract. You blush when his eyes get that twinkle in them. And you swoon over almost anything he says with a shy smile.

“You’re drooling.”

Mortified, you briskly run the back of your hand against your mouth before sending a harsh glare. Lando snickers. “Would you please stop?”

His jaw drops, theatrically. “You’re not actually into him—are you?”

He says it with a trace of humor, but also shock, and you can't help but have your mouth run dry. A loose grin starts to expand across his lips as you hurriedly shake your head. “O-of course not. Are you crazy?”

But if anything, you feel crazy. You must be, right? With every passing second of your heart beating faster and faster against your chest simply just by looking at the young Australian, you’re sure you fall straight into the category like some love fool.

Lando squints his eyes. “I don’t know.” He leans in straight into your face, nearly hissing. “Am I?”

“Am I interrupting?” 

Flinching hard, you turn quickly to face Anastasia. You’d initially met the black haired girl back in 2019. As you started off as the Brits personal assistant, she took over as Carlos’ and later also Daniel’s. Over the course of time, you two came to be as close as sisters. 

“No! Not at all,” you squeak, nervously before pushing the McLaren driver away and patting towards the open chair next to you. She giggles, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself. “How was the flight over?”

A shrug. “As good as it can get. Sat next to a silver fox, so I guess that must count for something, no?” Lando shudders. She leans in closer, plopping her head against your shoulder. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much.” Only, that’s not true. She missed the way he laughed awkwardly when the doors wouldn’t slide open and let him into the headquarters. She missed the way he rolled his R’s a little too hard when saying ‘sorry’. She missed the way he grabbed the pen with a certain glow on his face, like he almost couldn’t believe any of this was happening. Lazy fingers pat her head gently once before sighing. “He seems nice.”

“How do you know?”

You know because of the way he talks to everyone. Like he cares about what they have to say. Whether it’s about how great his career is going to be here in McLaren or if they introduce their kids to him via FaceTime. He always wore the same smile, talked in the same warm tone. So, could your guess be far off? Yes. It could be completely far off. But you would bet money that it wasn’t. 

“Just a wild hypothesis.”

Her laugh isn’t too loud, not ridiculously so, at least, but the fact that it echoes is what makes it appear as such. Anastasia is quick to slap her hand over her mouth, the Brit turns fast to face her with panic evident in his eyes, and you simply blink with a shade of red slowly creeping towards your cheekbones. 

Zak grins. “You three.”

“Oh, we’re out,” Lando mumbles in monotone, already grabbing your wrist and dragging you to the exit. You follow numbly, like you don’t have any strength left in your body. 

“You’re leaving me?” Anastasia hisses.

“She’s my assistant,” he says like a matter-of-fact. “Where I go, she goes.”

“Oh, you Judas—”

“All of you,” Zak clarifies, narrowing his eyes over to you and the Brit. You gulp.

With a soft curse, Anastasia stands up, tall and firm, and makes her way over with all the confidence in the world. You frown, craving to be the same way, even just a small percentage. Instead, you have to be forced by the McLaren driver. 

With every step, your head just spins faster because now, he’s more than real. You can smell his cologne. You can count all the moles that cover his face if you really wanted to. You can spot how his hair is still a bit wet, indicating an early shower. 

He’s just becoming— too real. 

“Lando, buddy, meet your new teammate!”

“Nice to meet you,” the blue eyed boy declares with a loopy grin, letting go of your hand in order to shake his. 

“Likewise.”

Zak claps once. “Oh! And meet your personal assistant, Anastasia.”

“Here for anything you might need,” she cheers with a bright smile.

“Fantastic.”

A wave of silence overlaps your four before Lando clears his throat. “And even though you might not be working with her one-on-one, this is my Anastasia.” A snicker. “My assistant, if you will.”

“Nice to meet you—”

“Nice to meet you—”

You both freeze, hands intertwined for a second longer before abruptly letting go. He lets out a dry laugh while you do the same. The way your skin tingles makes you blush. 

“This is fun and all, but we actually have somewhere to be,” the Brit claims with a suspicious look slashed across his usual laid back expression. You nod. “But we’ll see each other soon, man. Can’t wait to race together!”

In a flash, you two are out the door, leaving a dumbfounded Oscar blinking slowly.

-

“He fucks with you.”

“Excuse me?”

Another bench press. “As in, he likes you. He’s into you.”

You don’t dare ask who he is because you already know who the Brit’s referring to and that would only inflate your ego. Snapping your fingers, you narrow your eyes. “Focus. Two more sets left to go.” He groans, flipping you off.

It would be a lie to say that this didn’t make your self-esteem skyrocket. Could he be right? Could someone like Oscar ever lay eyes on you? Somewhere in your dreams, you’d like to say yes. Yes. That is a possibility. But the longer you think about it, the more unrealistic it gets.

You don’t have what others do. And that itself is enough to pop the bubble. 

-

The start of the season is always tough. 

“He’s extremely nervous.”

For some more than others.

You frown. “Really? But he’s usually so…relaxed.”

Anastasia shrugs, hair falling over her shoulder as she continues typing. “I mean, I tried talking to him but with everything I said, he’d just reply—'that's nice’. It was sarcastic, if anything. I would have laughed if I didn’t feel for him. Poor boy.” Her fingers freeze mid-air. “Wait—do you think you could talk to him?”

“I’m not sure that’s a great idea—”

“Come on! Maybe it’ll help him ease his nerves!”

“Ana—”

“Please.”

You huff. “Okay. Fine. Yeah. I’ll see what I can do.”

As soon as you knock, you almost want to turn away. Maybe it was all an exaggeration. Plus, it’s not like he’s going to die from having butterflies in his stomach. Yeah, surely he’ll be fine and he doesn’t really even need you to—

“Come in.”

He wasn't expecting you, that much you can tell by the way his brows go up. But he’s quick to erase the confusion, settling with a fond expression. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you squeak before cringing at the sound. He chuckles, returning to his warm-up exercises. “How are you feeling?”

Another chuckle, this time amused. “Anastasia sent you, didn’t she?”

“What?” A beat. “No.”

He hums. “Tsk. I’m a bit nervous, that's all.”

You lick your lips, kicking your foot up against the doorframe. What could you possibly say that she hasn’t already? If she couldn’t ease him, then how can you? The thought of messing up and making it worse makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re going to do g—”

“Great?” He sighs, blowing his cheeks. “That’s exactly what she said.”

“And what’s wrong with it? She’s only trying to help.”

“No. I know she is, but…” He looks down onto his lap, pausing all movements. “Look, I appreciate you both. What you’re trying to do for me, but I can’t stand hearing what others think I want to hear.”

“It doesn’t do it for you?”

His eyes grow slightly wide with the way you go about and ask. He’s never seen you be anything other than sweet and reserved. But this—right now—is stern and very coach-like. Something and someone you aren’t. Not even close.

“It doesn’t,” he admits, finally looking away. “Never liked it. Always sounds too forced.”

You nod, crossing your arms. “Fine. I can tell you the truth. I can be truthful.” He perks. “Oscar, you’re a terrific driver.” He groans, covering his face with his hands. “But just because you’re great doesn’t mean you’ll be great all the time.” The Australian frowns, uncovering and looking up at you with attentive eyes. “You’re going to mess up. You’re going to be second, or third, or sometimes even twentieth, but that doesn’t matter, you know why?”

“Why?”

“Because you signed that contract, so you sort of have to suck it up, either way.” He lets out a loud laugh. Very unlike him. A weak smile threatens to fall as you try your best to push it back. “There’s going to be bad races, but there’s also going to be very good races. It all depends on you and how hard you work. Sometimes you’ll have a good car, a good strat, and others you’ll have a shitbox and a bad strat. That’s just the way this sport works, okay?”

Oscar blinks slowly, as if trying to decipher who you are, and that itself makes you dizzy. “I-I-I don’t care if you’re nervous, I don’t care if you’re sure—all we care is that you drive that car, and that you try your best no matter what. Can you do that?”

It’s foreign. The feeling in his chest. He’s not used to hearing any of this. As of recently, everyones been texting him to say how great he’s going to be. How far he’ll go. And while he was grateful for having unconditional support, he also dreaded hearing it sometimes because he doesn’t even want to picture letting any of  them down. He’ll act like he’s fine, he’ll act like he doesn’t care—but none of that would be true.

The brunette tilts his head to the side, slightly squinting. “I can. I can always try my best. Even if I fall short.”

“Good.” A beat. “We all believe in you. No matter what, okay?”

A timid smile. “I know…”

He ends up having to retire the car by lap fifteen, but the most astonishing part is that he’s not even upset. He tried his best. He listened to every single advice his engineer would alert him with. He practiced long hours in the stimulator.

This is just the way things go sometimes. Just like you said.

-

“I’m bored. Can I get a ten minute break or something?” Lando grimaces, rolling his wrist like it's the worst pain in the world. 

You hum, fixing the signed hats back into the box. With eyes screwed, you shrug. “Fine. But only ten! I’m serious. We need to have this done by one.”

“Yes! Ten—got it.”

He doesn’t come back in ten. For the matter, he actually goes missing. 

You narrow your eyes towards the clock, watching as it clicks like some mockery. You’re going to strangle him. You vow at that very moment that you’ll strangle the Brit as soon as you lay hands on him. With one final huff of desperation, you stand up, rubbing your eyes. People frolic through the paddock—you’re sure you even catch a glimpse of Lewis being papped—but that’s not what catches all of your attention. 

Instead, you find yourself leaning against the rail, squinting down to where the man of the hour sits, microphones huddled all around him like some interrogation. Anastasia smiles politely, back straight, and voice-recorder in hand. 

It’s faint—you almost can’t hear a thing—but it’s just enough. 

How does it feel to be back home? Enjoying it, no?

Oscar hums, straight brows slightly furrowed due to the bright sun, but just one adjustment of his hat makes that all go away. “Feels good. I’m able to sleep in my own bed, so that’s pretty cool. And yes. It may be a bit biased, but I am enjoying my time here more than the last two races.” Everyone chuckles. 

Can we talk about your expectations for this weekend? 

You can see him pause, and from where you’re standing, the way his fingers drum against his chair. “Well, I, uh…I hope for a good car.” The joke is supposed to be there, but you can tell everyone was expecting more with the way they murmur to one another. You wince.

Will raises the microphone up to his lips, along with his hand in order to catch the brunette’s attention. “I’m sure there’s been lots of people reaching out to you since this is your first home race, but has there been someone’s advice that has stuck like no other?”

Oscar smiles gently. “There has been, actually.”

You freeze, gripping the steel bar with anticipation. Your knuckles nearly feel like they’re about to snap, and you feel like you’re probably leaning a bit too far over the edge to hear it all, but you don’t even care. Will chuckles. “If it’s not too much to ask, would you mind sharing with us all? I’m sure it’ll help a lot of youngsters watching.”

Anastasia slides the recorder closer. Oscar visibly swallows. “I’m not sure I can. I never asked her for permission to talk about it. And quite frankly, I’d like to keep it between us.”

Will perks up. “Her?”

The black-haired girl is quick to whisper into his ear, turning the opposite way so no one can even attempt to read her lips. He nods, eyes trained forward like some guard. “Any more questions?” But everyone’s intrigued at this point, so all the questions that follow remain the same. Something that makes Anastasia panic and Oscar regret his choice of words. 

“Can we get a name?” some blurts out, nearly seeming desperate to get the inside scoop.

Only, his face remains still, jaw slacked. “No.”

Will raises his hand. “Very well, we don’t have any right to know, but are you willing to share a bit about what she said?”

And it’s almost as if the Australian can foresee that the only way to get out of this situation is by giving them what they want. Even if it’s a stupid little crumb. He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “She told me to try my best. That’s all I can really do.”

The mix of photographers and journalists deflate. “I-I’m sorry,” Lawrence Barretto slides in with a light tone and an ever lighter smile. “Don’t mean to lessen its meaning, but isn’t that a common thing to say? To hear?” An awkward laugh. “I mean, I just thought it’d be something a bit more…deep. Inspiring, perhaps.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks and you’re grateful to whatever God may exist that you’re not down there. On the other hand, Oscar is a bit bothered by the innocent comment, but then realizes he doesn't have to be. They weren’t there. They don’t know just how much more you said. How upfront you were with him without sounding condescending. Something most people did without even realizing. 

The brown eyed boy spares a smile. “Like I said—some things I’d like to keep between her and I. And even if it was just that, it’s the way she said it.” A beat. “It’s quite a lavish thing to have. A sincere person to talk to, I mean.”

Will tilts his head suspiciously. “It appears she might be someone special to you, yes?”

The Australian freezes at the unwanted interpretation. Suddenly, the atmosphere is far too crowded. He lets out a forced chuckle, rolling his neck before messaging it gently. “Well, yes. I’d agree.” 

A mix of giddiness and shock rushes through your veins as you refrain yourself from jumping up and down with excitement. 

“You’d be lucky if you had her as a friend too.”

-

“Is everything okay?”

Biting down on the churro he had gifted you as an apology for not getting back on time, you growl. “Yes. Why wouldn’t it be?”

Lando raises a thick brow. “Dunno. Maybe the fact that you’re moping.”

Your jaw goes slack, immediately turning to face him. “I am not moping.”

The sound he lets out indicates he doesn’t quite believe you, but is choosing to let it go. Also, he doesn’t want to see your patience run out, too scared of what you might do. The curly haired driver plops down onto his bed that stands in his motorhome, closing his eyes. You nearly envy the indifference in him. The lack of worry. 

“I can hear your teeth clenching. Gross.”

A grunt. “I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Need anything?”

“Only a nap. It’s a good thing you’ll be gone.” He turns over to his side, bringing your jacket over his face to block out any light. You bite the air, swinging silently for a minute or two before exiting the cramped room. 

The sun hurts, you remember thinking, but the upcoming migraine you’re getting is even worse. You should be used to this by now, given you’ve suffered from them since elementary, but based on the way you zig zag without meaning to is enough proof to know that you’re not. Everyone's voices are suddenly muffled, even the sound of engines roaring is as soft as a feather. You wince, massaging your temples as if that might help. 

Woah, are you feeling alright? 

“I’m fine,” you respond meekly, to who even knows. You wave them off rudely. “I’ll be fine. Just. Leave me alone.” 

Anastasia frowns, all while fanning your face. “No. You need to lay down.” She nudges the Australian, who up until now, you had no clue he had his arm clung around your waist. If you weren’t too busy feeling like shit, you’d definitely be making a fool out of yourself. Her green eyes fill up with worry. “I’m gonna go look for a paramedic.”

“You’re doing too much,” you slur, body letting loose and making the brunette shriek as he grips you harder, trying to keep you upright. 

A deadpan expression. “Oscar, take her back to your motorhome and have her lay down.”

He nods, hesitantly. “Y-yeah, okay. Okay.” Once she runs off like a headless chicken, you let out a dramatic gag. Sharp brows knit together with horror. “Do I smell bad?”

A giggle. “No. As a matter of fact, you smell rich.”

With his arm still wrapped around you securely, and warm eyes flickering from you back to see where he’s heading, he grins, eyes crinkling. “Rich? That just so happens to have a scent?”

You purse your lips, wincing at the fact that your peripheral vision has gone completely dark. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’m a terrific liar and I’m only stroking your ego for my benefit.”

Another chuckle. “Benefit? What benefit may that be?”

Tsk. “How else am I gonna get you to take me to bed?”

The Australian instantly chokes hard on a string of his own saliva, causing you to flinch at the loud sound. Loud to you, at least. He apologizes, but not before taking a glance down, like it’s the first time meeting you. 

As soon as you lay down on the miniature mattress, you release a groan. Even just having your eyes closed makes you dizzy. You let out a loud groan, kicking your feet against the cushion in desperation.

“That bad?”

“That annoying.”

And even though you can’t see him, he nods, internally freaking out, trying to think of ways to help. “Does this happen to you often?”

“Yes.”

He nods, sheepishly. “W-what do you normally do? You know? To help?”

Tossing over to lay on your side, you pinch your eyes, grinding your molars. For a minute, you sort of thought your teeth might crack. Everything about this situation was becoming unbearable. “My mom, she, um…she’d normally braid my hair. It helped sometimes. Others it didn’t.” Messy hair dangles over your face as you let you out a loud exhale, as if you were in the middle of releasing some demon. “I moved too much, she said.”

Oscar smiles, coming across like a faint memory locked in the back of your mind. “I-I-I can try…” Loopy eyes flicker up to face him, and he’s quick to scrunch his nose. The sight alone makes you breathe easier, though he doesn’t know that. Of course he doesn’t. “Only if you want me to…”

“You know how?”

“Sort of? When I was younger, I used to sit across from my sisters at the breakfast table. I was bound to learn a thing or two.”

The subtle proud smile makes your heart beat flutter, smitten at the insight to his childhood. You wish you knew more. Like what was his favorite show? Did he have any imaginary friends, just like you did? Or maybe his favorite superhero? But you swallow all those questions down your throat as soon as he kneels down next to you. The whiff of soft musk distinctively adds to your headache, but you’re too focused on him for something as dumb as that to matter. 

“Just…close your eyes.”

Taking one last glance at him, you comply, lashes fanning slowly before going completely dark. You can still hear him adjusting, you can feel him take your hair into his hands, but nothing makes you stop breathing like his touch that grazes your cheek. 

It’s almost ghostlike—doesn’t really stay on the same spot for too long—but you know it’s real. Long fingers calmly push strands of hair behind your ear, tranquility expanding over your body. The slight tickle it causes helps ease your pounding migraine, little by little. 

“Are my hands too cold?” he whispers, not trying to intrude, but at the same time, wanting to know. You twist, bottom lip jutting out. Not at all. Keep going. And he does. He ends up tangling your hair a bit, because as it turns out, he doesn’t remember much, but he’s sure to delicately fix his mess, brows drawn in with heavy concentration. 

As soon as your hair is back to flowing free, he relaxes, wincing a bit at the pain in his knees. Your hair feels soft. Just what he would imagine a cloud would feel like. For a second, he begins to wonder, who’s this really for? He feels like this might be soothing him more than you. 

Just then, his finger catches on a knot, and he freezes, stopping all movements. “Holy crap, I am so sorry, I—”

You let out a low whimper, but don’t do so much as bat an eye. You’re sound asleep. The brunette lets out a breath of relief, falling back to sit on the ground. 

Your face is a bit squashed—and you’re drooling just a tad bit—but for some odd reason, he finds himself admiring. You’re full lips. You’re lashes. God, even the way you breathe. He feels a tender smile itching, but it never truly gets to see the light of day, because before he knows it, the door is swung wide open. 

Anastasia stops dead in her tracks. “What happe—is she asleep?”

Oscar opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. He does this a couple of times, awkwardly turning to face you and his assistant, back and forth, back and forth. “She, um…just did. A minute ago.”

She pouts, scratching her head. “Weird. Usually when this happens it prolongs for at least ten minutes before it gets any better.” The green eyed girl sheepishly waves the group of paramedics away. A trail of sighs echo as they turn away. As soon as they’re gone, she gently shuts the door, then tippy toes towards the edge of the small bed. Neat brows furrow. “At least she’s feeling better, no?”

Brown eyes follow her gaze. “Yeah. At least.”

-

Lando ends up throwing—and according to him— “The World’s Coolest Jamboree”. You beg for him to call it anything but jamboree, but he’s too attached to it by the time he sends the last text invite, which so happens to be to the rookie driver. 

“Has anyone RSVPed?” you question over his shoulder. He’s in the middle of mixing some mysterious liquid, but by the looks of it, doesn’t look any good. You grimace. 

He lets out a bleh before dropping his utensils. “No one RSVPs these days. They either show up, or they don’t.” 

A slow nod. “So, you don’t know who’s coming?”

“Not a clue. But most likely everyone.”

You scoff. “How are you so sure?”

He gives you an ‘are you kidding me?�� type glare before sending a sly grin. “First of all, it’s my party. They’d be crazy to miss out. And second of all…it’s only the biggest, funnest, coolest jamboree!”

“Funnest is not a word.”

“And party-poopers aren’t welcomed.” You gasp, smacking his chest harshly. He lets out a snicker, picking up a bag of ice and spilling it into the glass bowl. “But I’ll make an exception. Just this once.”

“Just this once,” you mimic before dipping your pinky in. He instantly slaps your hand away. Smacking your lips, you let out a yelp at the bitter taste. “This tastes like ass. God—not even Daniel will drink this, and that guy drinks anything in his way. I’m surprised he hasn’t been accidentally roofied.”

Lando claps his hands with amusement. “God forbid. And please, pay your respect to Lando’s Best Worst Decision.” A beat. “™.” 

“™?” you deadpan. “What? Are you planning on adding a trademark to this sewage water?”

“It’s good, okay?” Mixing the clear liquid once more, he smiles fondly down at it. “And maybe. I’m seriously considering it.”

You sneer, already walking away.

He ends up being right. Not even an hour later, the party is in full swing. Sure, a couple drivers aren’t able to make it, but it’s still jammed packed. It's honestly a miracle to get through the Monaco flat. 

You’re still sober?

Laughing, you nod, raising your water up in the air like some toast. Daniel frowns. “Considering I have to make sure my number one client doesn’t make any bad choices tonight, then nope. Can’t have a sip of alcohol.” 

Brown eyes flutter slowly. “I’m sure there’s other beverage choices. Have you tried Lando’s Best Worst Decision?” He leans in, winking. “™.”

“Oh no. Don’t tell me you actually like it?” He shrugs and you shudder in disgust. “I’m sure I saw him add ten energy shots and God knows what else.”

“No wonder I feel kinda funky.” Your face drops. “Hey, if you pass out, can I crash tonight?”

“Daniel!” you groan, covering your face. “I swear, I’m going to spill that stupid drin—” Only, Daniel is gone. Craning your head, you circle the room. From where you stand, you’re able to see Carlos and Lando taking part in a heated round of pool, all while Charles sways back and forth, infamous red cup in hand.

Marching over to the kitchen island, you pick up the glass bowl and carry it over to the sink before tipping it over. You huff, hair fanning across your nose. 

“Stupid, stupid boys—”

“Hey.”

You shriek, dropping the bowl, and wincing at the sound of glass shattering. 

Oscar grimaces. “Shit. Sorry. Are you hurt?”

“No.” You sigh. “Lando’s gonna kill me.”

Grabbing the nearby broom, the Australian sweeps carefully while knitting his brows. “Why?”

“It’s a family heirloom.”

“A glass bowl?”

You giggle. “I wonder why too.”

Despite the blaring music, and constant chattering, the room feels rather silent. You fiddle with the hem of your dress, and that seems to catch his eye as it dawns on him that he hasn’t really seen you in anything other than your usual uniform. To be fair, you could say the same. He likes it. 

You clear your throat. “Halfway done. How do you feel?”

He sips on his water, jaw clicking before settling with a sharp tsk. “Good. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it. Anastasia even congratulated me the other day when I diverted a series of questions with ease.”

Impressed, you raise your brows. “Bravo. Wish that was the case with Lando. I swear, sometimes I think he does and says things to make me look bad on purpose.”

“He should stop,” he says with a goofy smile. “Does he not know how lucky he is to get to call you his assistant?”

You blush. “Best friend, actually. I’ve been promoted ever since I pretended to be his girlfriend last New Year's Eve.”

The brunette inches forward with curiosity. “Wish to clarify?”

You hop onto the island, fixing your dress and crossing your legs. “Don’t tell him that I told you any of this, but I secretly think he was embarrassed of not having a midnight’s kiss. Especially since his ex was there with her new boyfriend. Talk about the unexpected.”

His chest tightens. “You two, um…kissed, then?”

“Yes,” you confirm with a childlike grin, and for some reason, it makes him want to puke. “Oh God, I haven’t thought about this in forever!”

He pretends to find interest in the crowded room, but really, it all remains on you. “Was it any good?”

You blush this time and he swears he’s close to walking away. “Yes and no. I mean, it wasn’t bad, but it just didn’t feel right.”

He perks up then, floppy hair bouncing at the sudden speed. “Really?” He coughs, then fixes his watch, training his eyes towards the floor. “Erm, I mean, is that so?”

A nose scrunch. “It felt like kissing someone you’re not supposed to. Which I suppose is true. We’re better off as friends.” He relaxes. “Thinking about it, we might’ve gagged each other's mouths.” You grimace. “If that doesn't show our discomfort, then I don’t know what will.”

“Good to know.” Oscar rubs his arm, up and down, then steps closer to you. You blink. “Hey, I was meaning to ask—”

Strippers? I didn’t order any strippers. 

Hire, a male voice interjects. He means to say he didn’t—hire—any strippers. 

“Son of a…” You wince apologetically, to which he shrugs. Don’t worry. Go. Biting your lip, you nod, rushing to the living room, where Lando, Daniel, and a bunch of other randoms circle the almost nude girls with long legs. 

“I mean, I won’t turn you away, ladies,” the Brit mumbled, already wrapping his arms around their waists. They all giggle, inching closer until he’s a blushing mess. 

You snap your fingers, pointing towards the exit. “All of you need to leave.”

Is that your sister? the one with a cowboy hat whispers into his ear. He quickly shakes his head, narrowing his eyes at you like a deadly weapon. 

“No. That’s his girlfriend,” Daniel yodels, face pressed up against the couch, admiring the group of girls. “But they’re in an open relationship.”

“I’m not his girlfriend—”

“She’s not my girlfriend—”

Oscar’s jaw clenches, eyes focused on the entire commotion. The older Australian rolls his eyes. “Right. We don’t talk about it.”

“Would you stop trying to help?” you shoot back, sarcastically, and clap your hands as if you’re rounding up a new high school cheer. “I need you all out. You want money? Fine. He’ll give you money,” you declare, signaling towards Lando. 

“Hey,” he groans, instantly letting go and stepping closer to you. “They haven’t even done anything to earn it….”

Your eye twitches. “I swear to God—”

“Deal,” the redhead shoots out. “But we need a moment to come to an agreement. You know? On how much we want to ask for.”

“Perfect,” you chirp, rolling your heels. “Take out your wallet, Big Boy.”

“You used to be fun.”

“And you used to be terrified over a pair of tits when I first met you. Whatever happened?” Lando blushes profoundly before pushing you away. “Want them gone, Lando, gone!”

“Yes! Jesus Christ—let me deal with this.”

“I’m done,” you promise with your hands raised up in surrender. “But just remember what happened last time.” He frowns, cocking his head to the side. You wiggle your brows. “São Paulo.” 

Color drains his face before letting out an unhinged laugh and motioning you away. You giggle, heading back to where Oscar stands. 

“I see what you mean,” he announces. What? “How he can have a bit of a headache.” 

“See! I told you! Four years of this!” A dramatic yawn. “I’m tired.” 

A string of boo’s follow once the strippers prance out the door, waving all their money in the air. Specifically Daniel, who genuinely looks upset to see them go. Oscar leans down against the counter, the proximity between you becoming smaller. “You should get some rest, then.” But he selfishly doesn’t  mean it. He wants you to stay—to keep talking to him. 

You let out a snort, grabbing your sides. “I mean, I'm tired of being Lando’s assistant. It’s a full time job, y’know?”

“Oh.” He stands up straight again. “Right. Of course.”

You purse your lips, looking down to your shoes. “But that was actually quite thoughtful.”

She thinks I’m thoughtful, he internally swoons because that must be a good sign, right? Not everyone is thoughtful, but he is, and that must count for something. Gathering all the strength he has left—which is not much considering you blink up at him like some angel—he licks his pink lips. “Back to what I was going to say earlier before you left—”

“I wasn’t trying to step on him! I already said I was sorry!” you hear a familiar voice, instantly turning to find Anastasia kicking Daniel’s face back into place, well, since he now lays asleep on the floor. You curse beneath your breath, jumping off the island once again. 

“His head did a complete 360!” Yuki accuses, clearly panicked. “That's not normal, is it?”

“No, it is,” Pierre replies with a bored tone. “I’ve seen it happen before.”

Crouching down next to the curly haired driver, you jab his cheek before motioning Oscar and Anastasia closer. “Help me carry him to the guest room,” you instruct, already taking off your cardigan. 

The black haired girl is quick on her feet, grabbing the Australians right leg as you grab the left. Oscar, however, swallows hard at the amount of cleavage you’re suddenly displaying, but instantly snaps out of it when both you and Anastasia blink back at him. He picks up the Alpha Tauri driver’s upper body before puffing. 

You blush bright pink at the sight of his muscles pulsing against his t-shirt. “I-It’s just around the corner.” 

As soon as you make it into the room, you three carefully place Daniel onto the bed, to which he squirms before flipping over and snoring away. You motion a finger over your lips before pushing them both out. Gently closing the door behind you,you let out a breath of relief. 

Anastasia lets out a whistle. “Surprisingly not that heavy.”

Oscar scoffs. “Easy for you to say. I had to carry most of his weight.” 

She shrugs, hugging you hello and apologizing for being so late, and you’re quick to reassure her that it’s fine, though she missed the chance to see strippers give Lando a tough time. She sneers. “I didn’t even know there existed strippers in Monaco.” And then she’s off, clapping loudly at the sight of Lando giving out a round of jello shots. You sigh, rubbing your temples.

“I-I’m sorry. What were you going to say?”

He freezes. “Oh. Just that—” He panics. “Only that I like your shoes!”

You blink, deflating from within. But you try to cover it up with a soft smile. “Thanks, I guess?” Orbs flicker down toward your white Sambas. “Lando says they are overrated, but I like ‘em.”

He nods. “Yeah. I like them too.”

-

It happens one Friday afternoon—the decision. 

You’re in between races, you’re in between headaches, and you’re ready to self-implode. So, before any of that happens, you make your first decision. To go on a walk. 

It’s getting rather chilly these days, something you love, but also hate. You love it because there is a certain coziness that comes along with it, but you also hate it because you can’t always be cozy, so you’re left shivering. Much like now. But to be fair, this was your own choosing. 

The pounding that takes over your head lessens the longer you stroll, the longer you breathe actual fresh air. You don’t really think much, you mainly remain blank, but the sound of tires screeching rips you away. Squinting hard, you catch a glimpse of a lady with grocery bags flipping off the fellow driver, who shares nothing but an apologetic smile before driving off. 

“What happened? Do I have something on my face?”

Dusting your nose, then your cheek, you blush faintly. You instantly assume it’s the powdered donuts fault—the one you had gobbled up in a hurry during the drive back to the paddock. It was an early morning, and no one really made it on time when it came to early days, but you always did. And so did Oscar. So, a sleepy Zak gave you a wad of cash, and sent you two to the nearest donut shop. 

The Australian shakes his head, blinking straight ahead. “N-no, I was just checking my blind spot.”

That only makes you blush harder because in what crazy world would he be looking at you? 

A single nod. The car is quiet apart from the sound of his hands moving against the steering wheel, and the sound of the blinker clicking. It’s gloomy, too. You clear your throat. “I love it when it rains.” He hums, calmly, encouraging you to continue. “It just makes me happy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” You purse your lips. “I sort of wish I were home. That way I can snuggle near the window and fall asleep to the sound of light drizzle.”

The brunette quirks a brow towards the road. “That sounds nice. Like…really nice.” A pause. “Why can’t you do that here, though?”

Here—here means where you are right now. Here means this place that’s not home. Here is not close to being enough, but he doesn’t figure that one out. You blink, dragging your finger along the pink box sitting on your lap. “Trust me, I’ve tried.” A small shrug. “But it’s just not the same, y’know? There’s always something missing.”

He doesn’t waste a moment in asking. “What do you think that is?”

Taken aback by his inquiry, you let yourself surmise for a second or two before licking your lips. “Maybe a pup. To keep me company”

He semi-frowns, cocking his head to send you a deadpan expression. “A dog?”

Now it’s your turn to frown, sending him a glare. “What were you thinking?”

The red light lets him take focus on you. “Dunno. A boyfriend, maybe?”

You’re sure you’re nearly as tomato red as the light staring at you both. “What? You instantly just assume I don't have one already?”

He freezes. “Well, I, um…t-that’s not what I meant—”

“Look, I know I’m not a guys’ typical ‘dream girl’, but sheesh I’m not that unlovable. At least, I hope not, but now you’re making me second guess. I mean, your opinion must indicate everyone sees me as some sort of lonely widow.”

Oscar shakes his head, adamantly. “I don’t see you as such.” A slow pause. “A lonely widow, I mean. I find your words to not be all that true, really. You’re nice. You’re persevering, You’re beautiful. And you have a good heart.” The light translates back to green, and you’re freakishly thankful, that way he can’t see you burn up. “You could easily be anyone's dream. Whoever makes you think otherwise is a phony.”

It’s getting harder not to laugh—most likely out of skeptic shock—but you refrain. He’s simply being kind with you, but that doesn’t stop you from nearly going into cardiac arrest. His words should have been labeled with a warning. 

“Guess this world is filled with lots of phonies.”

He scoffs. “There shouldn’t be. Not when it comes to a girl like you.”

Your breath catches. “Os—”

All of a sudden, the car comes to a harsh stop, sending you flying, but not the Australian, who remains sitting up straight. An older man flips him off before riding off on his bike. You both breath hard, turning to face each other. 

“Are you okay?” he questions, voice laced with worry. 

You nod, slightly dazed. “I, um—yeah. Are you?”

A nod. “I didn’t even see where he came from.”

A weak laugh finally erupts. “Blame it on the poor innocent man— clever.”

Brown eyes soften. They flicker from your orbs back to your pouty lips. He’s only checking if you’re okay, of course. You send him a reassuring bow and he releases a heavy breath. 

“Guess I was too focused on my blind spot, once again.”

The next decision comes when you opt in to join your neighbor, Mr. Lennon, for a cup of tea after he finds you shivering. By that time, it’s raining hard, you're soaking wet, and it only makes sense to accept his kind offer. 

“Mint. To hopefully push back any upcoming cold. God, what were you thinking?”

You let out a laugh. “Not much. That’s why I was aimlessly roaming.”

“What about now?”

You halt, mug raised up to your chapped lips. “What about now?”

He smiles, softly, mixing his own tea with a heavy spoon of honey. “Did the walk help? Were you able to get the wheels rolling?”

Now you giggle loudly. “That’s not very nice! The wheels are working just fine, thank you very much.”

The light scent of pine trees enter the room as soon as he stands up to open his window, the sound of soft rain singing to you as some much needed therapy. “So? What were you pondering about out there?”

“I wasn’t pondering.”

“Walking alone in the middle of a thunderstorm?” A sore laugh. “Been there. Done that. There’s always something on someone’s mind when that happens. Which isn’t often, or usual, so that must mean you’re really stuck up on something.”

“Or someone,” you mumble beneath your breath. His brows dart up, and you sheepishly settle the mug down. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

You blink. You don’t really talk about him out loud. Not with Lando. Not with Anastasia. Not even with your own reflection. Everything has always remained with you. A place you knew to be safe because you made it safe. But Mr. Lennon’s eyes prove to you that he’s lived enough lives—enough scenarios—to maybe understand. Even just a fraction. He watches you visibly gulp. And he knows that look. The confusion, the yearning. 

“I’m in love with this boy.”

He hums, leaning back against his wooden chair. “There’s always a boy.”

You look down. “He’s a friend of mine, which makes everything much worse because I can’t ruin that. But for the first time in all my years of living…” Round, glossy eyes stare back at him with a hopeless expression. “I really—really—want to.”

He’s attentive, he listens like some frozen statue, and maybe that’s what fuels your courage to continue speaking. “My entire life, I’ve had crushes, sure, but I’ve never loved someone. Not seriously. So, of course I’m caught off guard when I do feel that for someone who I’m not even in a relationship with.” A playful snort. “God, I feel so stupid.”

The silence that lingers is comforting. Your nerves flow away with the rain, and you feel at peace. Quietly, he clears his throat. “Can I tell you a story?”

A soft sigh. “I’m all ears.”

Gray brows furrow as if trying to recover a distant memory. “I once loved a boy, too.” Your eyes widen. Sure, you knew he was never married, never even had a kid, but you never thought of any reason as to why not. He nods, faintly. “Not many know, and not because I’m ashamed, not by any means…” A single beat. “But because real, sincere feelings are easier to ignore. Because who wants to deal with reality, right? Who wants to confess and be turned away like some dog at your door?”

Exactly, you think, nodding along. “Everyone is always going to be scared of something, but avoidant people like us are terrified about the what-ifs.” He sends a wink. “And I’m living proof that being that way won’t get you nowhere. And you'll realize sooner or later in life that you’d rather be nowhere with someone you love, than nowhere…” His eyes circle the nearly empty kitchen, despite living there for the past twenty years. “...all alone.”

Your chin wobbles. ���You know you have me, right? I’m always next door.” A wet laugh follows. “Anyways, I might even join you in this lonely life, eh? Doesn’t sound half bad if I’m doing it with you.”

Tender eyes close slowly before blinking back at you. “No. I want you to be the complete opposite from me. Be different. Tell him how you feel. Even if it costs you a broken heart, tell him. Because I’m telling you right now that a broken heart is always better than the constant desire that will always follow you like the devil.”

A warm droplet rolls down your cheek as you sheepishly laugh, but he doesn’t judge. He never has. Instead, ever the true gentleman, he hands you his handkerchief. “Did you ever get the chance to tell him that you…”

His wrinkles imprint more vividly as he breathes out. “I did, but it didn’t really make the difference I had hoped for. He was already married to someone else.”

A loud sob escapes. “That’s not f-fair. You deserve to be happy with the man you love.”

“I do. But you know what?” You rub the tears away, eyes connecting. “I’ve made peace with the consequences of my own actions.”

By now the rain has died down, and so have you. With one last smile, Mr. Lennon gives your cold hand a soft squeeze.   

“Learn from my mistakes, won’t you?”

-

That same night, as you cried over a bottle of wine, you made your third and final decision. And you would execute it all the next time you saw him, no matter the outcome. 

But now that you spoke about it once to someone, you felt almost invincible. Which is why you called Lando. 

You what? 

A wince. “You can’t tell him, okay? I’m legitimately trusting you with this!” He opens his mouth, but you’re quick to signal him off. “Including Ana.”

“Wow. I thought she’d know.” You shrug because you don’t really have an explanation for not having had confided in her, but you know deep down that you’re not really into playing a game of Cupid, and that’s exactly what she'd turn this into. The Brit nods, sympathetically. “Alright. I won’t tell a single soul.”

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?”

His question comes out hesitant—like he’s afraid of scaring you away from the possibility—but it doesn’t. Instead, you nod, to which he’s extra surprised because you’ve never been the kind to. “That’s the main reason I told you any of this. Because I wanted to ask you if you knew if he has a girlfriend or not? Someone he’s trying to pursue? I’d hate to…intervene.”

Lando let’s put a soft smile, dimples imprinting neatly onto his face. “I mean, he’s particularly private—you know him—but I’ve never heard him mention having a girl. It doesn’t seem like he does. Go for it. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity? A good friend?”

Silently, he grimaces because even he can see how much this all means to you—how much you’re scared. So, to boost up your confidence—which is something he definitely doesn’t lack—he flashes a loopy grin. “He probably likes you, anyways.”

You come to a fast halt. Suddenly, painting your nails isn’t your top priority. “Really? You think so?” He nods, and you can’t help but smile back. “What’d he say?”

“Well, as I already stated before, he keeps his things locked up pretty well. But I do recall one time…” He closes his eyes harshly. Then, he snaps his fingers loudly. “I believe in Hungary. He was on a high. And we shared a bottle of champagne to celebrate. So, he sort of let loose. Like insanely loose.”

“And?” you push, eagerly trying to get whatever he has stuck in his throat out of him. The green eyed boy snickers. 

“He wasn’t very clear, but he did say he had a crush on a girl. Someone he really wanted to get to know. But that  things were a little bit difficult.” You nod, urging him to continue. “I asked why, and he said it was because she had a good heart, or something of that sort? Good intentions? Can’t remember—and that he didn’t want to ruin it.”

Your breath hitches.

And you have a good heart. You could easily be anyone’s dream. 

-

Ironically, you’re huddled in Lando’s flat once again when it happens. Well. Almost happens. It’s filled with a few McLaren members because he insisted on hosting a nice brunch. And it was. Nice, you mean. 

“Pretty,” Anastasia says, sending a soft smack towards your ass. You yelp, swatting her hand away, and pulling your skirt downward. She snickers. “You should tie your hair up more often. Let’s everyone admire such an angel face.”

“Stop it,” you hiss, but can’t hide the pink flush. “But thank you.” 

She grins, eyes crinkling. Black hair sways as she moves to the beat of the music, nursing her drink. “Nice to have a break…”

“Definitely.”

At some point, she slithers away, leaving you all alone on the balcony. Which was quite lonesome until he came along. Oscar scrunched his nose, meekly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. Don’t own this place, do I?”

He lets off a raw chuckle. Deeper than when you first met him, and you come to the realization that a lot about him has changed. His hair is longer, his neck is thicker, and his shoulders are wider. But his smile and eyes remain the same. Boyish.

“Thinking?”

You sigh, admiring the ocean set out right in front of you. “Thinking, yes. A lot these days.”

And if he’s patient enough, he’d notice the way your hands shake. Tiny vibrates, but still. He’d notice the way you bite down on your lip, brushing it along the way. He’d notice the way you blink feverishly, like even the wind hurts. 

And he is. He is a patient person. So, he does notice. 

“Do you know what song this is?”

Brows furrow, deep in thought. And he’s quick to note that the ticks you had are coming to an easy halt. Mentally, though, you’re cursing yourself out because you do know. You do know the song that flows nicely into your ears, but simply having him next to you is what’s making you forget. How dare he have that kind of power over you?

“I know it,” you start. “But I can’t seem to remember right now...”

The brunette gently nods his head along to the beat. His eyes close, and his hair delicately tussles, and suddenly he’s the only thing you see. “Sex,” he says. You blush, ripping your gaze away before he catches you in the act. Oscar laughs. “It’s Sex by The 1975. How could I forget?”

“Oh yeah.”

The guitar screeches when the volume somehow gets louder, despite not being inside. “Would have killed me not to get it right. My sister listens to it all the time.”

Plump lips pressed together. “You have a sister?” But you know the answer to that question, of course you do. You’re a girl. You’ve done your research, even when you pinched yourself not to. 

He nods. “Three, actually. Talk about a headache, am I right?”

And it’s almost nostalgic—your laugh. Like it might be one he heard in his past life, but in his current one, can't remember. But it’s okay if he doesn’t because at least he knows he can learn it. And he has. 

“You look really pretty when you laugh that way. Insanely so.”

You can’t seem to register his words. The way they come off as soft and ginger as they could possibly get. As if he really means it. And for the first time since your first interaction with him almost two years ago—you sort of believe he might. 

“You’re just saying that?” you question as some test, round eyes challenging him into finally spitting out the truth. The same truth you carry. He shakes his head, taking a step closer.

“I mean it.” 

Like a sudden magnet, you two are hesitantly connecting closer and closer together before either of you could stop it. Not that either of you would. The Australian towers over you, almost caging you like some endangered species he’s afraid of slipping away and going extinct. 

You swallow, lashes fluttering, and he smiles at the sight—melts. You’ve always been reserved. Quiet. Shy. And so has he, so he can’t really judge you, but he’s willing to be different—just once in his life—to get what he’s been wanting for a long time now. 

His eyes follow your lips. Admires how plump they are. How they’re the perfect shade of pink. So, when he leans in and you don’t pull away? He thinks he might explode with the need to kiss you. One time. If he’s lucky, just—once. 

“You’ve always been my dre—”

“There you two are!” Anastasia cheers, zigzagging to you both as an apologetic Lando follows right after. By now, Oscar has jumped far away from you, and you’re left feeling empty and lost, blinking at an alarming rate. “We’ve been looking all over!” A hiccup. “What were you doing?” Your lips remain open but Oscar is the first to let out an awkward cough.

“We were just talking about…logistics!” He turns to you, sparing you a pleading look. “W-weren’t we?”

You finally come to, nodding slowly, eyes buzzing between the two McLaren drivers and your best friend, who wobbles from left to right. “Yeah, I….we—logistics, and whatnot.” A beat. “Doesn’t matter.”

He flinches, avoiding your doleful stare. Oscar forces such a bright smile—the kind that can’t go unnoticed by even the biggest idiot on earth—and nods in agreement. “She’s right. It doesn’t matter.”

Lando analyzes you, then his teammate, and wishes he had done more to keep Anastasia from barging in. But really, was this some sign? Maybe you were some delusional little girl who truly believed she had a chance with the boy next door. The one everyone wants, but only one will get to have.

And let’s face it. 

It was never going to be you.

-

You’d make an excellent detective in your next life, you’re sure of it. But for now, you’re just some brokenhearted assistant who mourns the death of her what-ifs. Someone who is really good at picking up on clues. 

It’s right before Christmas—right before Anastasia’s birthday party—and you’re curling your hair quite poorly. You daze off every now and then, you apply mascara almost zombie-like, and you’re dreading even showing up. Have you been avoiding him? Yes. Yes, you have. Have you been good at it? Only the best, if we’re being truthful here. And were you ready to face him without feeling the need to bolt? 

Nope. Not in this lifetime nor the next.

But still, you force yourself to finish getting ready because this isn’t about you. This isn’t about him. It’s about being there for your friend. 

Mindlessly, on the drive there, pouting in the back of the yellow cab, you click onto Instagram and the first thing you do is smile at the birthday post Anastasia had posted not even five minutes ago. You scroll, smile wider, and then come to a harsh pause. The kind that makes your throat close up. The kind that makes you stop breathing. 

The kind that lets you know—

You’ve lost.

His arms are tied around her waist, his head nuzzles between her neck, but you can still tell it’s him. His hazel hair can’t go unnoticed. Maybe to someone else, but not you. 

Then, as if all odds are against you, your feed refreshes and you’re left far more dumbfounded. 

She appears in most of his pictures because why not? It’s his girlfriend's birthday, it goes as expected. Museum dates. Pictures of them with each other's families. And you feel greedy like never before because—why couldn't that be you? 

Venmo or cash? You look up, making eye contact with your taxi driver who looks just as tired as you. You press your lips together into a fine line. Digging into your purse, you grab all that you have and jump out of the cab. 

It’s chilly out and the lights are beautifully hung, but it doesn’t do you any good. You just want to go home. Curl up in bed and die. Dig a hole—self-suffocate—who cares. And you’re ready to turn around, go back and apologize to Mr. Lennon for not doing better. You really thought you had it in you, but it just wasn’t enough. 

Only then, the door swings open and Pierre curls a brow. Kika waves from behind “He thought you were some serial killer. He’s been watching too much Dateline.” The brunette scurries over, throwing her arms around you and takes a step back. “Come in before you freeze to death.”

But even that didn’t sound too bad. You sheepishly thank her, following the couple back in. A string of jazz cradles the warm lit living room and the scent of apple pie makes you inhale sharply. A giggle stirs up behind you. Anastasia grins.

“You’re here!”

All of a sudden, you hate her smile. You hate her laugh. You hate her entirely. But you also don’t. You can’t hate her smile. You can’t hate her laugh. You can’t hate her entirely. Because even though you feel like she owes you loyalty, that’s not really true. She had zero idea about your feelings towards Oscar and she won. Fair and square. That doesn’t mean you had to like it.

“Happy birthday, Annie.” Hugging her, you giggle against her ear when she jumps up and down, nearly knocking you two over. “For you. From me.”

She wiggles her neat brows, green eyes buzzing with suspicion. “Is it a vibrator again?”

You blush. “No. Even better.”

“Wow! Even better?” She rips the small bag open, eyes widened double in their size. “Oh my God, you got me the Mary Jane’s I wanted?”

“Well, you kept bugging me, and so I thought—”

“D'accord, je comprends. I love them, thank you.” Grabbing your wrist, she tugged you into the empty hallway, and you can already feel her buzzing with excitement. Your stomach churns. “I wanted to tell you as soon as he asked me out—I really did—but he insisted on keeping it between us two for a while, and I told him no, I had to tell you, but then I understood that maybe it was for the best, and I’ve always liked him—”

Every word makes you feel smaller and smaller because the light in her eyes gives it all away. She, too—much like you—is in love with Oscar Piastri. You shake your head, sharing a light laugh. “I totally get it. There’s no need to explain.” 

The green eyed girl visibly relaxes, shoulders rolling back. “I knew you’d understand. Oscar was right—you have a good heart.”

Ana, Yuki just spilled wine on your coach, Daniel rattles from the other side of the room, pointing accusingly towards his teammate who rubs the cushion with his Dior sweatshirt. She sighs. Be right back!

At that moment, you don’t care if you wind up with a deadly case of hypothermia, you simply walk out of the warm house.

“What are you doing? You’re going to get sick.”

Screwing your eyes shut seems to be the only answer to help your mending heart into not breaking completely. And fuck him—fuck him for sounding so goddamn caring. 

You turn with a soft smile, shrugging nonchalantly. “Won’t really make a difference, I already feel sick.” You cough for emphasis. “See?” Oscar rolls his eyes, ignoring the poor excuse, and hands you his puffer jacket. You shake your head. Take it. “No.” He frowns. Why not? Rocks crunch with every step he takes. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“What? Borrowing a jacket from a friend?”

“Borrowing my best friend's boyfriend’s jacket.”

His stomach drops, rolling with a wave of anxiety as he tries to not show his uncomfort. “She told you?”

Your teeth grind harder. “That, and you both posted about a thousand pictures together. Wasn’t that difficult to understand what was going on.” A sore laugh. “I’m happy for you two, though. Really. I am.”

“You are?”

Sending a nasty glare that you tried to keep in for the life in you, you turn over to face him, nose rosy. “Yes. Over the fucking moon.”

He flinches. “Listen, about that day at Lando’s house. I-I-I was caught up in the moment. I shouldn’t have said what I said, o-or tried to kiss you—”

“You’re a phony, you know that, right?”

Another flinch. “I’m trying to apologize to you. I’m sorry. I feel bad, okay?”

Tears well up inside your eyes. Somewhere deep inside your chest, you feel a harsh sting, and still that doesn’t compare to his pity. You let out a scoff, crossing your arms. “You feel bad, for what? For messing with my emotions, or for getting with my best friend?” You poke his chest hard, but he remains as still as a brick wall, a pained expression mapped out. “Which one is it?”

“For all of it!” He grabs your face, making you freeze under his fire-like touch. “I loved you—God—I loved every inch of you. Your humor, your heart, your jokes that never land, the awkward giggles that follow afterward—everything. There was not a single thing you could do that could have pushed me away.”

“Then what happened?” you whisper, eyes tracing his pink lips, trying to enjoy his hands. They’re calloused, sure, but they’re by far the closest thing you’ve had, so nothing else matters. His breath hitches, soft eyes looking down at you in complete defeat. You grimace. “Why was I not enough for you to try?”

His hands drop. Brown locks shakes as he rubs his eyes, like this is all some part of a fever dream. Maybe it was. The Australian frowns. “I could ask you the same thing.”

It’s a slap in the face, and it burns like never before because you know he’s right. “I wanted to tell you!” A shaky breath. “I was going to tell you.”

Leaves rustle. “You were?”

“Yes,” you confess, nodding adamantly. “That day at Lando’s place—I wanted to tell you.”

The McLaren driver bites his tongue hard, blinking rapidly. “W-what would you have said?”

“That I loved you too.”

He can’t hide his pain just by hearing those words. He scrunches his nose. He nods robotically. And he keeps his eyes trained towards the ground, like he’s in the middle of solving a puzzle. 

“I really did like you. From the moment we met.” Finally, he looks up, round eyes searching for any sign of intimacy. If there’s any left—any you still save for him. “Do you remember the day we first met?”

“A little bit. Yeah.”

A second ticks by. “I do. Remember it all, I mean. Think back to it quite often.” He lets out a boyish grin, crinkles forming, making your heart flutter. “You took my breath away.” 

And as if humanly possible, despite the icy air, your cheekbones flush harder as you bite back a giddy smile. “You barely even noticed m—”

“You wore a white ribbon. Hair half up, half down. Denim overalls with your initials sewn onto them. Emerald earrings.” You blink, clearly taken aback by his polished memory. His eyes soften. “I’ll always notice you.”

-

Anastasia pecks the Australians cheek, giggling after each one. Oscar smiles, letting out a shy laugh. From the corner, seated next to Lando, you sigh sadly. The Brit bumps his shoulder up against yours. What’s wrong? But you must not have heard him, or you ignore him, but he, too, has eyes. 

“I swear I didn’t know a thing about them,” he whispers. “If I had, I would have warned you, you know that—”

“Lando,” you cut him off, voice weak and mellow. “It’s okay, it’s not your fault.”

He frowns. “I know that, but—”

“It’s not your fault,” you repeat, this time more firm. He swallows, nodding hesitantly. With a soft laugh, you poke his ribs and he’s quick to let out a yelp. “Just want to forget, you know?”

Lando hums. “Understood.”

Anastasia clinks her spoon against her mug. The one you each painted differently in that one pottery class years ago. She grins. “I’m so glad all of you could make it, really, it means a lot.” Her eyes crinkle sweetly towards Oscar who traces shapes down her back. She blushes for him—the same way you do. “I feel like…I finally have everything I ever wanted.”

A string of oohh's echo the room, whistles ringing. She laughs, head falling back, and he lets out a single chuckle, rosy cheeks making everyone grow louder. Meanwhile, you stay silent, focusing on Lando’s shoes. The Brit winces, rubbing your shoulder awkwardly. 

Daniel yodels, raising his beer. “Well, in that case, I feel like I do too!” He hiccups, making Pierre and Yuki snicker. “A hot girlfriend, good ‘ol friends, and a nice pair of abs.”

“They are nice,” Lily mumbles, earning her a soft smack from Alex who rolls his eyes. 

Carlos cackles. “Me next—um, okay. A good team, my girlfriend, and…and—my hair.”

“Narcissist,” Lando whispers, trying to get a good laugh out of you. And it works. You giggle, muffling the sound with the back of your hand. Oscar perks up, orbs floating over to where you and the Brit whisper to one another, smiles only growing wider. His jaw clenches. Either way, you tune out all the constant chatter after hearing how Pierre was grateful for having a massive cock. 

“I really hope nothing changes between us.”

You laugh. “I think it might be a bit too late for that.”

The Australian scratches his shoes against the wet pavement. He agrees. He won’t admit it, but he agrees. Everything has changed. Timidly, he glances over at you, biting the inside of his cheek. His gaze burns—just like always—and you turn to face him.

By now your tears have dried, but your heartbreak still continues. Something deep inside tells you that it will for as long as you live. You despise yourself for letting any of this get out of hand. For letting your fear of rejection play a big part in losing him. He smiles.

“I love you, okay?”

You smile. “I love you, too.”

Your voice sounds sweet—just like honey. And if it’s a lie, just to make him feel better, then he’s a grateful bloke. He might not have your heart—not completely—and he might not have your hand in his, but he’s fine with that. Because he’s heard all he’s needed to hear. And he can live at peace.

Oscar grins, leaning down to kiss your cheek. It’s tender, just the way you pictured it. You smell like flowers, just like he had dreamt. He pulls away. “You can always talk to me. Whenever. I’ll always be there for you.”

“Thank you. But I won’t bother you too much.” His brows furrow, mouth opening to protest before you wave him off with a tired smile. “Don’t want to vent to you about…well—you.”

“What about you?” Anastasia squeals, making your jump in place. 

“What about me?” 

She rolls her eyes, theatrically. Oscar remains as still as a statue, enjoying the moment to admire you without having to explain why—all eyes were on you, after all. “Have you ever gotten everything you ever wanted?”

Wistfully, your eyes look up, connecting with the ones you know so well. You admire his boyish features one last time before looking down onto your lap and then focusing on Anastasia.

“No. But I once got very close.”

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[sweetassugar]

Your older sister had moved back in after college with her boyfriend. Your parents were often away on business trips and so you basically had the house to yourself as you took a gap year just working and having some fun traveling around before university. Honestly life was great and your sister was the best she often brought home sweets from her office for you and every Friday was movie night. It was nice having your reliable older sister back since you guys haven’t lived together in so long.

Her boyfriend however what was his name? Daniel or something. He was a piece of work. He mooched off of your amazing big sister and always made a mess! He came from a rich family or so you heard so he was going to nepo baby his way around life.

Since it was finally the weekend your big sis asked for some help reorganizing her room. You being the lovely little thing you are of course said you’d help as you knock on her door before feeling Daniel shove you in her room as soon as the door opened. “Fucking jerk!” You immediately cursed looking back at him before feeling him backhand you. You fell onto the ground holding your face as your big sis came to your side. “Be gentle! She’s delicate.” She defended you which only made Daniel sneer “yet you’re letting me rape her ass.”

Did you hear that correctly? He wanted to do.. what? Looking over at your big sis she looked conflicted before grabbing your arms and holding them behind your back. She helped you up before shoving you onto the bed feeling the bed dip with her and Daniel’s weight on the bed. Your legs were spread as they got tied with thick red ropes. “I’m scared what is happening?” You ask but no one answered you as you struggled and the more they tied you up the realization of what was going on sunk in.

Daniel wasted no time taking scissors and cutting off your shorts and tank top you often wore around the house. Once he got to your bare ass he lowered his face shoving it into your ass shaking it around his tongue darting out of his mouth to lick at and worship your asshole. “You’re gonna be good for me right little sis?” Your sister finally spoke to you cupping your chin and raising your head. You struggled to keep your head up even with her help in this position only letting out a strained groan. “His dick is just too big I wasn’t going to let it anywhere near my ass I wouldn’t want to tear it after all.” She spoke her voice getting more and more condescending as she squeezed some lube on her fingers.

You felt her hand hover over your skin trailing down before Daniel lifted his face and your sister shoved two fingers into your tight asshole. You cried out and received a spank on your ass as Daniel mocked your cries reminding you how pathetic you looked right now. You couldn’t see behind you but you could hear the rustling of clothes as Daniel got naked lining his cock up to your asshole. “Baby sis is gonna lose her anal virginity before her pussy hm?” Your sister mocked before Daniel shoved his cock inside.

Your screams were muffled by a kiss from your big sister. She was kneeling by the bed her face next to yours as she continued to kiss you sucking on your tongue as your eyes rolled back. Daniel was grunting thrusting into you not caring about your pain as he raised his hand to slam down on your poor little ass over and over again until it was all bruised ): “Like that bitch? Being raped like this. Your sister used to struggle too now look at her.”

It was all so much his cock was too thick and too painful as it thrusted in and out of your tiny hole. You felt overwhelming pressure as your muffled cries fell on deaf ears. Feeling the fear the anxiety the betrayal of trust you couldn’t help but cry as your pussy clenched over nothing and you began to piss yourself. “Haha! We need to put this fuck meat in a diaper after this.” Daniel mocked he thrusts getting more aggressive before he slammed his hips down against you letting his cum pour into your ass.

As Daniel pulled his now flaccid cock out he looked down at your hole which was now gaping slightly and pressed the soft tip of his cock against it before releasing his own piss into your hole. “Good girl taking such a big cock for your first time. Your sister’s gonna lick me clean and then we can take your other hole next how about that pretty?” He asked but you could no longer hear him too zoned out in your own world the events today draining you completely.