#it's wild to think 'next summer' will be 'this summer' in just a few hours hehehe

[drowsydregon]

can't wait to see you next year! :p

HELL YEAH

speaking of which, idk if you or anyone reading this is going to brickfair VA next summer,, , but if any of y'all are feel free to come say hi to me !!

[studioghibelli]

where the wild things are.

a joel miller x cooper howard x f!reader fic.

summary: the wild west is vast, dangerous, and awfully lonely. two rather generous cowboys take you under their wing.

warnings: unspecified age gaps, porn with plot, non-canon, an entirely separate universe to fallout or tlou, very brief and non-graphic mentions of violence & danger, and a whole lot of smut (f & male receiving oral, piv, unprotected sex, nipple play, face sitting, etc.)

notes: this was a completely self indulgent fic for my enjoyment, and sharing it with y’all was a no brainer. however, if any of the content warnings, or either of these characters, is (are?) not to your liking- just scroll on by, baby. you are 100% responsible for the content you consume. enjoy lovelies! xx (also this is not spell checked)

The crackle of the camp fire illuminated the patch of grass in front of your canvased tent, the smoke rising on up into the field of stars that twinkled above you. The night's were growing colder, and the winding roads were getting longer.

With each day, you felt more and more of what little energy you had running out, your sense of both humanity and livelihood seeping from your bones and puddling around your feet with each new dawn.

It was tiring, day after day, hauling ass away from outlaws and bandits. You didn’t have money, or notoriety, but you were a woman- and that was the most dangerous thing you could be when you were all alone and out on your own.

The sound of hooves galloping behind you pulled you from your thoughts, and the tin cup full of greasy stew in your hands became an after thought as you searched for your gun.

You had a nasty habit of losing it. Not a good look.

Two men in low brimmed hats came riding up, their stallions of black and chestnut huffing clouds of steam in to the cool night air.

“You okay?” One of them asked.

“Who are you?” You had gotten used to losing your friendly demeanor, it no longer suited you. No more sweet girl voice, oh no- not in this world. You stood your ground, legs shoulder width apart, and made sure they knew you meant business.

Well, that’s what you hoped you looked like. In all reality you probably looked ridiculous, like a child playing dress up in their parent’s closet. But you were a firm believer in faking it until you made it, so that’s how you proceeded.

“Hey now, little lady. We mean no harm to ya’. There’s a storm rollin’ in from the south, and we thought we’d make camp around here. It seems you beat us to it.” The man, his lower face covered in a navy bandana, had a voice as smooth as honey, and a charming chuckle that would have made your knees buckle many moons ago, when you were young and dumb, and happily fell in love with every stranger you met.

Hesitantly, you lowered your finger, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to figure out your next move. “Um…”

The thick, sticky feeling of awkwardness clung to your skin like summer sweat. You had nowhere else to turn, so you offered the stranger your name as a welcoming gift. He didn’t seem to mean you any harm. You weren’t hogtied and pinned to the ground. At least not yet.

“I’m Cooper. Cooper Howard.”

Your eyes scanned to the quiet man beside him, the one who owned the midnight colored mustang. He wore a denim shirt and a heavy overcoat of leather, his chaps caked with the mud of yesterday’s rain. You could see his umber eyes, and you could make out the crows feet beside them.

They were older by a long shot, and both of these men looked awfully tired.

Your eyes tore to the pot of stew you had sizzling. It was more than enough for them, thanks to the rabbit you had gunned down just a few hours ago. You still shivered thinking about it.

“What’s your name?” You asked, pointing toward the other.

“Joel Miller.” He responded, voice deep and gruff. He sounded mean and ornery, like a caged dog growling at anyone who walked by.

You liked it.

“Well, if you’re hungry I’ve got some stew going. But if either of you try any funny business, I’ll be cooking you next.” You snapped, making sure they knew your threat was real. Well, not really. But you hoped the point got across.

Cooper chuckled, raising his gloved hands in submission. “That’s alright now, little lady. We aren’t here to stir up any trouble. Just two tired cowboys looking for some… pillows.” His honeyed eyes flicked over your body, landing square on your chest. You felt heat rising up your neck, but decided not to think any more of it, chalking it up to a simple coincidence.

You watched Joel hop off his horse, noticing how broad he was now that he walked on his own two feet. His ample shoulders stretched the fabric of his jacket deliciously, and you saw the thick veins of his hands as he slowly took his gloves off. His eyes were on you as he lowered his bandana, and you saw the curve of his beautiful nose, eyeing the stubble which adorned his cheeks. It was graying, and his lips were pressed in a hard line, yet nonetheless, he was beautiful.

Clearing your throat you walked over to your fire, poking at the sticks.

“Uh, extra cups are in my pack.” You coughed, pointing to your bag that sat against the side of your tent.

“Thank you very much, darlin’.” Cooper reached in to your bag, eventually finding the cups you mentioned.

When he made his way back to the campfire, he sat down beside Joel, both wide legged and hunched over from a long day’s worth of traveling. Cooper took his hat off, revealing a head of dark hair, and as he untied his bandana, you were met by an equally attractive face. He looked up at you, a charming smile spreading across his lips. You were mesmerized.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asked, and you could hear the cheekiness tugging about in his syllables.

“N-no, no. I just…. haven’t seen anybody else for a long while.” You explained softly, picking at the skin of your fingernail. It was a nervous tick that you still couldn’t get rid of.

“Neither have we.” Cooper explained, gently nudging Joel with his elbow. “Ole’ Joel over here is the only company I’ve kept for a long while. He ain’t much of a talker though, isn’t that right?”

Joel grunted out a response, focusing instead on eating. His eyes flickered up to your own, and a sheen of gratitude flashed over them. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Your cheeks felt like fire once again, and you titled your head down, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Ma’am? I don’t look that old, do I?” You asked through your eyelashes.

Beside you, Cooper laughed a deep, hearty laugh, gently patting your shoulder. “Absolutely not. Why, you’re as pretty as a Spring flower.”

“There you go with those theatrics, Coop.” Joel grumbled, wiping his hands off on his pants. He leaned back on his elbows, tilting his chin towards the night sky. A gust of wind ruffled through his curls, tousling them against his forehead. You reckoned he looked like a painting.

“I can’t help myself, it’s in my blood.”

“Our Cooper here is an actor, back in town.”

“Was.” Cooper specified, letting a little chuckle slip between his lips. “Ditched it all for a life on the road. Wrangling cattle in the summer, trading fur in the winter. It’s a nice life out here, in the wild. But it’s lonely.”

“Damn straight.” Joel agreed, taking a drag from a cigarette he had fished from his pocket. He offered it to you, and you gladly accepted.

“You have each other though. It can’t be that lonely?” You wondered aloud, puffing on the cigarette. The stench of tobacco filled your lungs, and a wave of calm soon rushed through your veins.

Cooper and Joel shared a look, before they each burst into fits of boy-like laughter. You sat there, incredulous. It was the first time you had seen Joel look even remotely happy, and you felt your stomach tighten with the sound of their handsome laughter. Perhaps it had been so long since you’d seen some good looking men, but these two were something else entirely, and it had…. an effect on you.

“We’re talking about a different kind of company, sugar.” Cooper grinned at you, and a twinkle of mischief sparkled in his eyes.

The rush of realization ran through you, and you squeezed your thighs together with thoughts you really weren’t happy with. “Oh, oh. Right.” You muttered, blinking a few times to try and wipe the awkward situation from your head. Yeah, that wasn’t working.

Joel stared at you through the crackling flames of the fire, his face illuminated by the dancing shadows of oranges and reds. You eyed him, chewing on the inside of your cheek as a million thoughts rushed through your brain.

Beside you, Cooper stretched out with a soft sigh, turning to look at you. His grin was deadly, a slight upturn to his lips and a dazzle in his irises that made your knees weak like jelly. He ran his tongue across his lower lip, eyes darkening with some archaic type of desire. There was something primal to him, deep down, and you got the impression he tried to hide it. Joel, on the other hand, seemed to lay all he was about flat and bare in front of him.

“We do appreciate you letting us camp here.” He murmured next to you, and you felt the palm of his hand gently rest on your knee.

“You’re welcome, Cooper.” You smiled at him, bringing your flask of water to your dry mouth. “Before all this, my mamma told me to be hospitable. Guess I forgot about it while on the road. Sorry for…. for being so hostile before.”

He gently rubbed his thumb against your thigh, a look of worry spreading across his face. “No, no. Not at all. Joel and I get it, we’ve pulled our guns out on our fair share of fellow travelers. You can never be too careful in this world. Especially you.”

“Must be hard for a pretty girl out here.” Joel finally spoke, peering at you from heavy eyelids.

You let out a bit of a laugh, nodding to no one in particular. “Sometimes. But you learn though.”

Cooper inched closer to you, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “Learn what?”

“Who’s a threat, who’s not.” You reached down, gently running a finger across the back of Cooper’s knuckles. His hand were rough and calloused, the mark of a well made man.

“Am I a threat?” He asked, his voice low enough that only you could hear. Your eyes flicked to Joel, who wore a mask of smugness. His ear perked at Coop’s inquiry, and you saw a little smirk pull the corner of his mouth up.

“No, definitely not.”

“Good, good.”

“Very good.” Joel chimed, and you were half-surprised and half-impressed he could hear any of your conversation.

You tilted your neck, looking up at the stars. They blanketed over your head like a painting, sparkling and shining in their own little world. You smiled, breathing in the cool desert air. Cooper’s hand on your leg was a welcome warmth, and you felt shuffling beside you, seeing Joel next to you. He didn’t touch you, but he did look, scanning every inch of your face as he drank you in.

“How long have you been out here, on your own?” Joel asked curiously, voice still deep and gruff.

“I lost count years ago.”

“So did we.”

“This ain’t much of a life.” Cooper murmured, his eyebrows knitting together. “Why did you choose it?”

“I didn’t.” You chuckled softly to yourself, running a hand through your hair. “I didn’t. Parents kicked me out when I was seventeen. They couldn’t find someone to marry me off to, so I went out, had big plans to go down to California during the Rush. Got held up in Salt Lake, had everything taken from me by a group of bandits. Everything.”

You began picking at the skin of your nails once more, huffing out at the bitter memories. “I suppose you two could take whatever you wanted from me, and there’s nothing I could do about it. I’m not stronger than either of you. I can’t even find my gun, for fucks sake.”

Cooper and Joel listened intently, and you saw Coop shake his head from the corner of your eye. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, we don’t.” Joel murmured, his lashes thick and full above his dark eyes.

“That’s good news.” You breathed out, leaning back against your elbows. “Real good news.” You knew they were telling the truth.

A canopy of silence blanketed over you, before Joel stood up, stretching out his arms. “Alright. I’m hittin’ the hay.” He muttered, before walking back to his tent and turning off his lantern. “Night.” He lazily called from inside his tent.

You and Cooper both bid him a farewell, before you laid back on the ground, your arms resting behind your head. Coop followed suit, staring at you at you stared up at the sky.

“It’s been so long since I’ve been around someone else.” You whispered earnestly. As Cooper set his hand on your thigh, you grabbed it, dragging it to your stomach, your skin slightly exposed by your shirt riding up.

“Me too. ‘Sides that grump who just went to bed.” He sat up on his elbow, staring down at you.

“And I haven’t- haven’t been touched in…. in ages.”

“Is that so?” He murmured, inching his face down towards yours. You hummed out a yes, and Coop ran his knuckles down your cheek. “Think I need’a fix that.” You hummed out again, and Cooper wasted no time leaning down, connecting his lips against yours.

You breathed out a sigh of relief, taking the collar of his shirt in both your hands as you pulled him closer, relishing in his warmth. He smelled like smoke and pine, the subtle aroma of sweat aching through the old material of his clothes.

He pulled away slowly, your lips the last to part, and blinked down at you. You watched him lick his bottom lip, taking in the sight of you beneath him.

“That was-”

You pulled him down to your mouth again, cutting off his sentence as you kissed him with a fervor you were unaware was in you. Cooper snaked his hands down your sides, his fingers tracing over your exposed skin. He opened his eyes as he got to your pants, and you nodded in turn, giving him permission to tug the denim off your legs.

His hand wasted no time cupping your sex, the thin material of your worn underwear an afterthought as he sought out your clit, his fingers tracing circles over it, slow and teasing, until you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t feel more.

“Please, Cooper.” You muttered, tugging at the buttons of his shirt. “Please.”

“Hey now, mind your manners. Please what, sugar?” His voice was like honey, dripping down your throat and filling your senses with the sweetest of pleasures.

“Touch me. Please.” Your hips bucked involuntarily against his hand, and he chuckled softly at the intrusion.

“Now that’s a good girl.” He cooed, pulling off the rest of your underwear with a swift movement of his arm. His middle finger found your throbbing clit once more, and he circled it slowly, dragging your leaking wetness around and around.

You looked up at him, met by a pair of mischievous eyes and a sly grin. He knew how to treat a lady, and treat you he would.

The sound of a tent opening stopped you both in your tracks, and when you looked up, Joel sat there in a pair of boxers and a shirt, an eyebrow raised at the scene before him.

“God dammit, Cooper. Just can’t keep your hands to yourself, can you?”

“Come here.” You whispered, extending your hand to him. He and Coop shared a look, and Joel awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Oh, I- uh, well…. I ain’t one for…. this.” He scratched the back of his neck, drinking in the site as he racked his brain for what to do next. Cooper ran his hands up the buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts with a growing smirk. He had no qualms with your request.

At the site of you nearly bare, Joel gave in and relented. “But if you insist, who am I to say no?” He finally grinned, making his way towards you.

“That’s what I thought.” Cooper smirked, placing his mouth back on yours. He held you close, his fingers still lazily rubbing circles around your swollen bud as he pressed his tongue into your own, exploring your mouth and swallowing your whimpers of pleasure.

Joel shuffled beside you, slapping Coop’s hand away. You felt him run a digit through the lips of your cunt, and slowly he dipped his finger in, allowing you to envelop him. You moaned into Cooper’s mouth, gasping out for air as Joel added in another.

“Fuck.” You mewled, grinding down against his hand. Cooper slid your bra down, his lips finding your hardening nipple. He sucked slow and hard, rolling your bud between his teeth gently as Joel continued fingering you deeply.

You had found yourself in a state of complete euphoria, your mind empty of any thoughts except those that featured the two cowboys who had sandwiched you between their broad, soft, warm bodies.

Joel rested his cheek on the inside of your thigh, watching your pussy eagerly swallow his middle and ring finger, a lazy smile easing across his face. He leaned forward, licking a stripe up your clit. You gasped, hand holding the back of Cooper’s head as he continued sucking on your clit.

“That’s it. Moan for us.” Cooper mumbled into your chest. You did as you were told, their names rolling from your tongue with each respective movement they made.

Joel took your clit in his mouth, sucking until his cheeks went hollow, tracing letters and numbers and whatever else came to mind on your clit with his well-versed tongue. He hooked his fingers with every thrust, grinding down into the sand as his own arousal coursed through his veins.

Cooper dragged his mouth across your breasts, painting his own picture through light pink and purple bruises. You ran your fingers through his dark head of hair, your free hand slowly moving to his belt. You tugged him up, and Cooper easily got the memo.

Sitting back, you watched him undo his belt, his eyes right on yours as he tugged his boxers down. His cock fell out with a gentle slap, and you moaned out as he shuffled towards you. The leaking head of his dick pressed into your lips, and you obediently opened your mouth, his hand gently moving to the side of your head.

Cooper hissed through his teeth as you took him, this thumb gently rubbing circles in to your cheek.

“That’s a good girl. Thatta’ girl.” He murmured, his heavy eyelids watching his cock slowly disappear down your throat. With a soft gag you somehow managed to take him all in, pulling away and releasing him with a gentle pop. The salty taste of his pre-cum lingered on your tongue, and you moaned out in want of more.

You glanced down at Joel, his face buried in your pussy as his lapped at your clit, hungry like a wild dog you hadn’t eaten in weeks. You moaned his name, and Cooper wrapped his hand around his cock as he watched his friend pleasure you.

“Sit up a bit.” He whispered, and when you did he eased himself behind you, your back pressed to his chest. Cooper snaked his arms around you, gently running his fingers up and down your stomach, before they reached your clit. He smacked Joel’s head away, resuming rubbing where his tongue once was.

Joel grunted out a huff of annoyance, pulling away to watch your pretty cunt get rubbed. He slipped his fingers back in through the lips of your pussy, looking up at you.

“Want more?” He asked, and you knew exactly what he meant. Breathlessly you nodded, rolling your head back into the crevice of Cooper’s neck. Your hand found his bicep, and you held on to his muscled arm as you watched Joel slide his boxers down.

He pressed the head of his dick against your pussy, watching as he slowly disappeared inside of you. Joel groaned out at the feeling, grabbing the underside of your thighs as he held your legs high up and spread out.

“Such a pretty thing.” Joel cooed, his hips flushed tight against yours. His eyes watched your own, allowing you to get used to the feeling of himself inside of you. You let out a soft sigh of pleasure, your lips lazily pressing into the line of Coop’s jaw.

“Thatta’ girl, take it.” Cooper whispered into your ear, gently nibbling at the lobe. “How’s it feel?”

You groaned out softly as Joel resumed his movements, his pace steady and deep, eyes mesmerized by the sight of your sopping cunt. “So good. Feels so good, so-oh.” Cooper chuckled to himself at the sound of your moan, the rough pads of his fingers still dragging over your throbbing clit.

“How many orgasms d’you think we can get from her, Miller?” His tone was laced with red hot arrogance.

“I’m not sure, Howard. I reckon we oughta experiment.”

“How’s that sound, sugar?”

“Sounds good.” You moaned, your pussy clenching around Joel’s cock. “Sound really good.”

“She says it sounds good.” Cooper relayed to Joel. The men shared a look, before their deep chuckles filled your ears.

Joel began fucking you harder, as Cooper maintained the same movements on your clit. Joel wasn’t vocal, but every so often a grunt would slip past his lips and make your stomach flutter. The sound of his skin slapping in to your own made your eyes roll, and combined with Coop’s skillful fingers, you knew you weren’t going to last long.

“About to cum already?” Joel groaned out, his lip caught between his teeth. “Can feel you on me. So fuckin’ tight.”

Cooper kissed the soft flesh of your neck, holding you closer as he watched his friend fuck you. “That’s it, baby. You go on and let go. Let us take care of you.” He whispered, sucking gently at the patch of skin beneath your ear.

Cooper’s sweet words of affirmation, combined with the animalistic thrusts and subtle groans from Joel, sent a shock of electricity jolting through you. With a whine, you came around Joel’s cock, your clit throbbing and sensitive beneath Coop’s fingers. He continued rubbing, and with a cry you tried to close your thighs, in an effort to appease the subtle burning sensation that swept through your core.

Joel chuckled, shaking his head as he pried your thighs apart. “None of that.” He murmured, a gentle caress being given to your leg. “None of that.” He repeated.

You whimpered out, Joel’s movements growing sloppier by the second. You could feel Cooper’s hard cock throbbing against your back, a streak of his pre-cum sliding down your soft skin. You grinded back against him, and Cooper let out a soft grunt.

“Watch yourself.” He whispered, kissing at your shoulder. “I might just have to take you from the back if you keep that up.” You felt his hands on your ass, lifting you up in to his lap. Joel grunted, and you felt his cock twitch inside of you.

“Are you goin’ to cum, cowboy?” You asked, a sudden wave of confidence surging through you.

With that, Joel emptied himself inside of you, your tight pussy milking him clean as he growled like a beast, his nails digging into your skin as he slowly finished himself off. He moved back, falling on to his knees as he watched you, his cock still twitching from his orgasm.

“God damn, girl.” Was all he managed to get out, as Cooper slowly settled you on to his lap.

“Be a peach and ride my cock?” He cooed, brushing your hair behind your ear.

Despite how exhausted you were you happily complied, and with your back still to the handsome man’s chest, you lowered yourself on to his cock, Joel’s cum providing a slick entry. Cooper pressed kisses onto your shoulders, holding your head in his hands gently to help you slide down steadily.

“Joel wasn’t lyin’. This is one tight pussy, and a damn fine one at that.”

“Fuck, Coop.”

“My name sounds so pretty on those lips of yours.” You could hear the charm in his syllables, you could practically taste the ego dripping from his tongue. It ignited a newfound fire inside of you, and your own arousal began to creep up again.

You held on to his knees as you bounced yourself on his cock, whimpering and whining as Joel watched you. You saw his cock twitching again, and when your eyes met his own, you shot him a smile. Joel raised an eyebrow, sneaking up towards you.

“Can’t let Cooper have all the fun.” He whispered, leaning his head down and meeting your lips. Joel kissed you deeply, hungrily, and wasted no time tying your tongues together, fighting for dominance with his own.

Cooper met your thrusts with heavy grunts, his fingertips digging into your soft skin, teeth biting down in to your shoulder. You could feel the sweat gathering on his chest, you feel the need with every jerk of his hips.

You moaned in to Joel’s mouth, holding on to his shoulders to hold yourself still, falling deeper into his kiss as you did so. Cooper scoffed behind you, grabbing you waist and pulling you to him in a moment of envy. From behind, he greeted your mouth with a kiss, holding you tight as he fucked in to you, harder and harder with each sloppy thrust.

Joel ran his hands down your side, up and up and up until they came in contact with your nipples. He rolled each one between his fingers, happy to watch you get fucked by his best friend.

Cooper pressed his cheek in to the side of your head, and you could feel his hot breath fanning against you. His nails created crescent moves into your skin, and you could tell he was close by the stuttering of his hips.

“Come on, Coop. Cum inside’a me.” You cooed gently, twirling a piece of his hair in your finger. Your lips were lazily against his jaw, watching Joel’s fingers twirl across your chest. You moaned out at the contact, biting down on your lip as Coop panted like a dog behind you.

You felt his cock pushing deeper inside of you, until a final groan gave way to his orgasm. You felt his cum paint your walls white, his thighs tightening beneath you as he choked out your name, pretty and needy on his tongue. You grinded down on him, trying to fit every last inch of him in.

Coop fell back on his elbows, sweating out as his orgasm subsided. He traced his palm down your back, watching as Joel wrapped his arms around you and dragged you forward, kissing you with the fervor of a hungry man.

You moaned in to his mouth, pushing him back as you did so. With Joel sitting, you got on your knees, leaning forward on your elbow as you took his freshly hardened member in to your mouth. He groaned, holding the sides of your head as he watched your lips wrap around his twitching cock.

“Jus’ like that.” He muttered, a smirk of relief befalling him.

You heard Cooper shuffling behind you, and when you glanced down you saw him on his back beneath your pussy, pulling your ass down until your soaked cunt met his waiting mouth.

He slowly traced his tongue around your clit, circle after circle, as his fingers dragged up and down your ass cheeks, feather light to the touch. You moaned with a mouthful of Joel’s cock, looking up at him with wet eyes. A choke got caught in the back of your throat as his dick slid all the way in, and Joel chuckled a sweet, honeyed chuckle.

“Oh, my poor baby. You look like such a princess right now, gaggin’ on my cock. Such a good girl for us.”

You whimpered out, grinding down into Coop’s face. You felt your own arousal pooling, drip, drip, dripping down on to his eager tongue. Cooper spread your ass apart in a tight grip, pulling you down even closer until you were completely smothering him. He hummed in to your cunt, no doubt pleased you were suffocating him.

You wrapped your hand around the base of Joel’s cock, pumping up and down as you focused on his swelling tip, swirling around until Joel was moaning out for you, his grip on your head tightening.

“Fuckin’ shit, baby. Keep goin’.” He purred, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he watched with bated breath.

Cooper shoved his tongue inside your pussy, lapping at the source of your sweet cum. It was the most delicious thing he had tasted in a long while. Hell, maybe even his entire life. He massaged your ass, your thighs- anywhere he could get his hands on, his nose rubbing in to your clit as he fucked you with his tongue. You pulled away from Joel and glanced back, seeing Cooper’s cock wrapped in his hand, pumping with every move he made. You giggled to yourself, resuming the job you had been finishing.

You choked down Joel’s cock, relishing in the sound of his chuckles.

You felt your belly tightening with another orgasm soon approaching, Cooper’s lips once again finding your throbbing clit. You bobbed your head up and down Joel’s cock, your tongue swirling up and down with every move. Joel hissed through his teeth, nodding in approval.

“Jus’ like that. Gonna cum in that pretty mouth.” He murmured, and soon you were swallowing his cum. Joel grunted, and your own orgasm met Coop’s tongue, his movements never ceasing, even as he grunted and came in his own hand.

You pulled away from Joel, wiping the dribble of cum that stood on the corner of your lips. You pulled him forward, giving him a kiss, before slowly sliding off Cooper’s face. You leaned down, looking at him slyly as you took a finger in your mouth, licking his own cum clean off his digits.

Cooper groaned, sitting up as he took you by the back of your head, eyebrows furrowed as he watched you slowly take each finger between your lips, head bobbing as your eyes locked with his own.

“Pretty little thing.” He whispered, a grin falling over his face. When you pulled away with a hum of approval, Cooper thanked you with a kiss.

Joel was already dressed by the time you and Coop pulled away, and he tossed your clothes to you with a thankful look in his eye.

“We needed that.” He explained, sitting down once he pulled his shirt on.

“Definitely.” Cooper agreed, helping you button up the shirt you wore.

Over the horizon, the sun was already beginning to rise. The fire had long since gone out, and soon your bodies were being bathed in the gentle pink hue of the dawn.

“So I suppose you two will be heading off soon?” You finally spoke, reaching for your hat.

They shared an incredulous look, before Cooper spoke up. “You really think we’d leave you out here, all by your lonesome?”

You shrugged, chewing on your lip. “I mean…. I- I don’t know.”

“‘Course not. You think we’re crazy or something?” Joel snapped, grabbing a cigarette from his bag.

“Look, we aren’t goin’ to up and abandon you. If you want to stay alone out here, that’s fine. It’s your call. But me and Joel would love to have you on the road.” Cooper explained, licking his bottom lip. “And not just because you’re a good time, either. I can’t speak for him, but I’d be more’n happy to protect you.”

“I second that.” Joel nodded, setting a canister of coffee on the newly stoked fire.

You considered what they were both saying for a long moment, although your answer really didn’t need any thinking. You smiled up at the two cowboys before you, nodding at them.

“Guess we’d better set off soon then, boys.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny thinks he's done a wonderful job all things considered. His city is safe, no one has died yet, no major injuries, Vlad had screwed off after Danny beat him within an inch of his afterlife (Danny learned that Vlad was a revenant abusing dirty ectoplasm for powers-not a halfa), ect.

Most of his rogues gallery also stopped bothering him once it became clear he was having trouble keeping his increased power in check and was trying hard not to hurt them. Unfortunately there was one who refused to leave him alone. A warrior princess was demanding his hand in marriage as she needed to be married by the summer solstice of next year or the throne would be passed down to her younger sister, who was already married.

It didn't matter how many times he said no, she kept coming back and challenging him for his hand. Each time she came back stronger and with new tactics and weapons to try. He was starting to fear she might actually win one day. That day might be sooner rather than later as her latest scheme was cutting it close.

Deciding that 1. Amity didn't need him anymore if he closed the portals 2. He was probably going to have to leave anyway if he loses and 3. He didn't have a future in this world as Fenton anymore he leads her on a wild goose chase back into the GZ and causes the portals to collapse in on themselves. The princess laughs, thinking he had given up. But no.

Danny put a curse on himself to turn him into a bat for the next year or so, a full month longer than the princess had left to find a spouse. She screams. Appearently she had a phobia of bats, who knew? Anyway he was left alone to fly through the Infinite Realms and find a new home.

He found a new world easily thanks to the natural portals of the IR and crossed though. Immediately being pelted on all sides by freezing cold rain was not what he expected but its what he got as he flew over a sign that proclaimed the city beneath him was called Gotham. The little glowing white bat flew through the night for hours before seeing a fruit bowl laying innocently on a kitchen counter through a window. Whats more it was in some giant manor so the occupants probably wouldn't mind if he ate an orange or two.

Right?

Needless to say a kid around the age of 11 or twelve walked in on him clutching an apple like his life depended on it while furiously munching. The kid looked...excited? He started going on about names and what he would need to care for him. Danny wasn't really listening, he didn't realize how hungry he had been until he started eating. He waited until the kid had looked away to turn himself and his apple invisible. This bothered the kid who looked suspicious but went to look for "the bat" anyway.

Later, while Danny was taking a shower in the kitchen sink to wash off the remains of his meal (I headcanon that Danny is a bit of a neat-freak) some other guy walked in holding an empty coffee mug and wearing eyebags that would put a raccoon to shame. They just stared at eachother for a solid few seconds before Danny started squeeking in rage and covering himself with the washcloth he was using to scrub himself clean. It looked like something out of a cartoon. Tim thought he was hallucinating but why would he hallucinate a glowing white bat with hearts all around it (that part isn't real) taking a shower in the kitchen sink. Was his subconscious trying to tell him something??

The next victim person to spot him was Duke who just stood in his doorway as this glowing white bat rolled an orange down the hallway. He decided this was a problem for the night crew and went to tell them.

Alfred saw a small shock of white fur and heard squeeking. His first thought was 'rat' and he didn't even hesitate. Danny dodged 3 bullets and got the hell out of the kitchen.

The batfam are debating on whether this was a shifter or an meta animal that was experimented on.

[shorlinesorrows]

my jean & neil qpr agenda (part 1?)

after Neil orders the hit and Greyson becomes another Former Raven statistic for the media to go wild with, Jean ends up texting Neil. It's definitely not a thank you, but both of them know it kinda is (prob something like "you're an insufferable disease" lol)

They don't have contact for a while, but one day Neil reaches out by sending Jean the most atrocious multilingual French meme with "Kevin doesn't appreciate me or my humor, this is a hate crime"

It's sporadic from there, and maybe at one point they meet up while Neil and Andrew are on their summer road trip. Neil and Andrew end up in Colorado, and Jeremy, Cat, and Laila practically drag Jean there to see them (he'll deny that he had a good time, but he really did)

Andrew and Jean have a bizarre and interesting dynamic where they don't speak to each other often, but they eventually grow a mutual respect and shoot each other Looks about their "I'm Fine" partners. They don't mind just sitting in the same room and sharing space while they do their separate things.

When Jean and Jeremy start their pottery class, Jean takes to it like a fish to water.

He ends up majoring in Ceramics & Multimedia Art. Something about using his hands to create, rather than destroy.

He makes Neil a little exy racket charm for his keychain.

At one point, Jeremy makes a gc with Jean, Neil, Kevin, and Andrew on impulse. Jean "hates" it but doesn't leave the group chat. Andrew only stays in it because he can mute it, and it's useful for when they plan to meet up sometimes. It also makes Neil happy and it's not something he really minds

Jean also takes LOTS of pictures. With his phone, his friends' phones, a polaroid camera he gets as a gift from Cat, anything he can get his hands on. He hangs them up on his half of the room with Jeremy.

Eventually Jeremy and Jean do get separate rooms. They usually still sleep in the same room, but it's an important milestone for Jean and his recovery. Being able to have his own space, and know he's allowed to control who comes in it.

He decorates that room so much it's chaotic and beautiful and there's probably little pencil doodles on the wall next to his bed from when he can't sleep. He tends to draw daffodils :]

It becomes a bit of a tradition to meet Neil and Andrew every summer.

When they go pro, Jean and Neil end up on teams only a few hours' drive from each other. Neil and Andrew start on the same team, but the whole Minyard-Josten Rivalry is still a Thing because they're always shooting heated Russian at each other while "glaring" and no one else seems to realize it's their equivalent of flirting.

Jean thinks it's hilarious. He harasses Neil about it constantly.

Him and Kevin eventually mend their friendship, and they care about each other a lot.

Neil probably made the three of them matching "I survived Castle Evermore" shirts just to be a menace, and then Jean and Kevin have to make him swear that he'll never wear it in public.

Neil has a habit of just. Showing up at Jean's house and crashing sometimes.

Jeremy at one point jokes that he'll have to fight Neil for Jean's time in the future, but he's not really worried. They're happier when they spend time together. Jeremy and Andrew are chill with it.

When they meet up for the first time after a game between their pro teams, none of their teammates have any clue what's going on. Jean and Neil insult each other ferociously, but also can't seem to resist hip-checks and shoulder bumps and almost affectionate shoves.

Neil constantly sidles up to Jean and pretends like he doesn't know what he's doing. Jean usually responds by absently grabbing his hand so he knows where he is.

They are literally a cat and dog. Neil will deny that he's being caring or affectionate towards Jean all day long while actively attempting to be in Jean's space, and Jean practically perks up when Neil enters a room.

When their teams play against each other, they talk in French sometimes. Their checks are always a bit brutal (they know very well how far the other can be pushed before they break) but they help each other up at the end of quarters.

Jean is constantly antagonizing Neil by smiling and complimenting his striker skills while blocking him, and Neil is constantly taunting him with words that are plenty sharp, but never actually aimed for vital spots

Jean gets a service dog and Jeremy decides to name her Mr. Barkbark Flufferpants, following Andrew & Neil's naming scheme for their cats. They usually just call her "Mr."

When they make Court, the two of them practically live in each other's pockets.

Jeremy and Andrew watch both exasperatedly and amusedly (though Andrew just calls it annoyance when asked) as the two of them dance around their Big Queer Platonic Feelings

When they finally manage to actually communicate about it, it goes something like "Idk what's happening, I'm kinda obsessed with you but it is Not Romantic and I don't know what to do with that." And then "Oh thank hell, me too, I thought I was even weirder than I already am. Wanna go harrass the fbi together?" "No."

They become even more attached at the hip after that, can practically finish each other's sentences. It's like they freaking mind melded tbh.

At first Kevin gets worried that they're slipping into old habits from the Nest, especially Jean, but when he brings it up to Andrew and Jeremy, Andrew just goes "No, they're idiots." and Jeremy nods and says "I think they're in a honeymoon phase. If we see them slipping, we'll pull them out."

Kevin decides to wait and watch, and thankfully their relationship ends up being as healthy as Neil and Jean can be. There might be a little codependence going on, but they have other people and other grounding forces to help intervene if it seems to be unbalancing.

They both put each other on their emergency contacts list.

It's a common sight to find the two of them twisted into impossible positions together just doing their own things, Jean drawing, Neil watching reruns of Exy matches, whatever.

Their dynamic just becomes Jean, who genuinely grows up to be a pretty chill dude, and Neil, who's an absolute gremlin. Except they kinda absorb each other's personalities, so they're both little shits together. They fit.

There is definitely all sorts of weird conversations that they have at 2AM in little sleepovers they do together (sometimes with Kevin, Jeremy, or Andrew) because they never got that as kids.

I bet Neil mercilessly teases Jean for being allosexual, especially when he gets flustered (all in good fun, of course)

Jean just snarks back with a "shut up, I literally saw you look at Andrew like a besotted elderly man with his partner of fifty years like five minutes ago." Neil sticks out his tongue at him.

Jean actually can sometimes read the ways that Neil and Andrew show affection for each other because of how much time he spends around them, which leads to him occasionally getting confused when other people don't automatically Get It

Neil takes a while to warm up to Jeremy because he seems Too Nice, but once he does he helps Jeremy plan to absolutely torment Jean with silly little romantic gestures that make him flush all the way down to his neck

At one point Neil tries to get Jean to explain what it feels like to be sexually attracted to someone without knowing them really closely, and it leads to a really surprisingly deep conversation about attraction before it turns into neil making dick jokes.

Cat and Laila still keep in close contact with Jean, as well as Renee. They make sure to meet up as often as they can. Cat and Jean always go for a bike ride together and they all cook dinner as a group.

They're both cuddle monsters when in the right mood. They also have the convenient ability to fall asleep Anywhere when they feel safe. So finding them curled up together in weird places at home is pretty commonplace.

They're forever partners, not in the way that the world and the Nest tried to make them be, but in a way that they created themselves.

It doesn't have to be romantic to be special, and if anyone ever suggested that they should be in a romantic relationship, they would both look at that person with absolute judgement and disgust. This person interrupted their conversation. They were talking shit about someone. Neil is lounging in Jean's lap. Andrew is saying he hates them both, and Jeremy is cackling at it all while taking a low-res picture for Cat and Laila.

idk i have a Lot of thoughts and could keep going. (i might write a fic if anyone wants to read it, and I'll definitely write little snippets for myself if I get the time. )

[leafostuff]

One Heck of a Joyride[Ft. WooAh's Nana]

Word Count: 14-15K~ words

Collab with @octoberautumnbox

My Author's Notes: we are so excited to finally release this fic for yall, me and box have been working on this fic since the end of FEBRUARY (almost 3 months) and we have been working on it so hard to make it the best it can be so I really hope you will enjoy this fic

@octoberautumnbox's author notes: there u have it! took the better part of three months, but it was really fun to work on :DDDD Thanks to leafo for making sure i didn't slack LMAO

No tags since it is too long but this is fluff and smut

Thanks: of course @octoberautumnbox for working with me on this amazing collab. @4m1rz for being my lovely beta reader and @libraryoferos for being my motivation to not be lazy on this fic

And so without any further preface, let's get started, shall we?

================================================

“And I expect you all to get along this year. Leave the past behind you as you all face a new future together.” Sporadic applause rises slowly from the crowd and dies down twice as quickly. The dean sighs away from the mic and drifts offstage, leaving everyone disinterested in the rest of the program. It all goes by in a blur, and finally ends right as the air conditioners start to fail against the heat of a summer not-yet-ended. 

Your attention is drawn away from the droning on and on from the stage and towards the many characters that populate the theater with you. You catch glimpses of people talking with their friends, a few crazy hair colours, and the occasional sleeping student who’s no doubt already saving up hours for the all-nighters to come. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone in the front row with both people sitting next to her conspicuously leaning away. They seem to want to get up and leave her there by herself, but the way she gives no reaction despite the jeering tone coming from her seatmates leads you to think that she’s asleep herself. 

~~~

“So yeah, That's the tour, bucko. Check the map if you’re ever lost.” Your student tour guide points at the multi-colored document on your phone. Vaguely you recall the various little symbols: which classrooms you can sleep in, which bathrooms are haunted, which shortcuts are best, all of the must-know basics of college life. 

As you continue scanning around the campus, the girl from the assembly catches your attention again. She has her hood up this time, but you can tell it’s her; her quick pacing and how she is not looking around at anyone making you believe that she’s trying her best to hide.

“What about that one? Do we not talk about her?” you ask, pointing at the oblivious figure walking past, drawing eyes and whispers much like your own. 

Your guide scoffs at the absurd idea. “That’s Nayeon. And no, we don’t. She fucked up last year, big time. Got a bunch of us in trouble. So stay away from her, she has those goody-two-shoes germs.” he says, walking away as while signaling you to follow him.

You wonder what she could have done to gain such a reputation. She was adorable earlier with her hood off, but the way people talk about her makes you want to steer clear against your own will. 

~-~-~-~

Curiosity ends up killing the cat, and you manage to gather bits and pieces of the incident from last year from gossip, class lore, and even the way some professors acted:

“She’s the luckiest bitch in the world with not a single shred of common sense. Seriously, who goes and rats on a hundred other students like that?”

“The test incident shows she only looks out for herself, even if it means bringing down the entire class.”

“There’s really no excuse for it. You have the answer key in your hand, of course you take a picture! You don’t just leave it where it’ll incriminate some other innocent loser and say you’re only trying to do the right fucking thing.”

The sheer number of factoids you gather from the wild bunch of sources only slightly make sense. Unfortunately, trying to piece them together only took up more space and brainpower which you should have used to study for your midterms coming up. Keep to yourself and you can just barely pass and move on; there is no time for college drama.

After the exam, you approach the professor to ask about possibly bumping up your grade. You decided to maybe half-ass an extra credit assignment and get the lowest passing score, but you resolve to just see where it goes. While lost in thought, you nearly bump into the small girl in front of you. already talking to the teacher, and by the way they’re whispering, it seems like it’s something serious. 

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here anymore, Miss Kwon,” the professor admits as he takes off his glasses and rubs his nose bridge. “None of this was necessary. I thought we wanted to leave all this behind us.”

Nayeon looks down to her toes in defeat. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was just thinking, maybe I’d get sent out of class this time.” Her voice cracks, giving away her vulnerable state: she’s near tears but trying to fight everything back to look tough. Sadly for her, you think, none of it is working.

“Look, just try to lay low. It’s your last year before all of this starts to not matter anymore.” Your professor finally puts his glasses back on and looks Nayeon straight in the eye. “Trust me, you’re better off keeping your head down. You’ll be fine.”

She walks despondently off to the right and out the door. Your feet choose to follow her, but a sudden jolt restores your common sense. “And you, Mister New Guy, what seems to be the problem? Beside your dismal score, that is.”

You have a slight feeling you are not getting a higher score.

~-~-~

After talking it out fruitlessly with the professor, he releases you from his classroom and you make your way out. The conversation with him didn’t take long, and so you arrive to a few jeers and muffled laughter once you step outside.

“Serves her right. Trying all this bullshit isn’t gonna change anything.” 

“Seriously, cheating on a test she obviously studied for? How dense could she be?”

“I bet she just wants to show us up. She’ll study and then cheat, then she gets perfect marks on the test and she’ll show us she’s untouchable again.” 

You find it hard to believe that Nayeon would resort to something as convoluted and pointless as that, but then again, you really don’t know her to make a judgment. Whatever she was thinking, you agree that it was idiotic to pull that sort of thing, even if you didn’t see any of it.

The weather on campus is the right mix of cloudy and sunny, with rays of light shining respectfully on the grass and pavement of your college courtyard. Something tells you that people-watching by the gym feels like the perfect lunchtime activity for a day like this, so you find your way to the properly noisy setting and look for a spot out of the way. 

You settle on a spot by the side of the gym with the perfect amount of shade and wind, but you’re instead drawn further back to the rear by strange and irregular noises. Turning the last corner, you’re met with a surprising figure.

It was Nayeon, sitting with her back against one of the walls, her entire body curled up like a ball. You slowly inch closer and closer to her, and you realize the strange noises that you heard before were instead sniffles and cries coming from the lonely girl. Finally as you get close enough, Nayeon feels your presence and raises her head.

Her eyes were full of tears, who knows for how long she had been crying, and you could feel the sadness coming from her eyes; they were trying to tell you something, however, it's hard to figure out what. Her expression of sadness didn't stay for long though as soon enough her expression turns angry when you get closer to her, squatting down to look at the girl from a closer angle.

“Please, go away. Leave me alone.” The small girl pushes you away, but with her hand preoccupied wiping away her tears, she can’t do much to get rid of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You have the nerve to do what you did last year and still show your face?” The anger in your voice catches you off guard. Since when did you take it personally when it came to her?

“Oh fuck off, new guy,” she taunts. “So I’m fucking hiding here, what more do you want?” She tries to act tough again, but it’s painfully apparent to both of you that it isn’t working. At this point, you really do just want to leave her alone. And just like every other time, nothing’s stopping you. So why are you staying?

You breathe a sigh of defeat at the situation you find yourself in. “Look, I don’t have any sort of beef with you personally, but come on. This is pathetic. You’re only embarrassing yourself by doing all this bullshit that isn’t like you at all.”

“And what if it’s not like me?!” Her shout sends a few birds hiding in nearby bushes to take off. This sort of language takes you aback from her; Little Miss Perfect Kwon Nayeon, top honour student, teacher’s favourite pet, hating herself? 

“I… I don’t like being me, and I don’t like what I am.” She wipes her tears again and tries (and fails) to look you in the eyes once more. “So if you’re another member of the ‘I hate Nayeon’ club, well… Better show the club president some respect.”

She sits back down with her back against the wall. Nayeon's eyes are wet for the last time before she wipes them off and faces her lack of tears.

Normally in situations like those you would just walk away and ignore people like those for the rest of the school year, but for some reason with Nayeon in front of you, showing herself being weak, fragile, and sad, something about her makes it so you can't leave the situation alone. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you have to know why.

“No,” you turn back to her as a determined expression is painted on your face.

“What?”

“I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me.” You stand your ground, arms crossed, and Nayeon can't seem to be any more pissed than before. “What is going on? What do you mean you don't like yourself?” you ask.

For a while, no one dares to speak another word, and you wonder if what you have here is an argument. For a good few seconds, she stares at you intently as silence hangs heavy in the air. 

“You think,” she says defeatedly between sniffles, “that I'm Little Miss Perfect, right? Like everyone calls me ‘the straight-A girl?’ Well I’m not, and I’m tired of everyone saying so.” She fishes out a very used handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her eyes of tears, only for them to be replaced by more. 

“It can’t be that bad, Nayeon. People look up to you, I’m sure.” You finally notice your alarms are blaring and you’re put on high alert. What you just said was the exact wrong thing to say, and you’re at critical risk of involving yourself in her messy situation more than you should.

She side-eyes you, calculating if you’re being sincere or not. She stuffs her handkerchief back into her pocket carelessly as if knowing that she’ll only pull it back out again soon. She looks down at her hands, deep in thought, looking like she’s trying to grapple with something she might regret. 

Once she’s done, she fumbles around in her backpack. She fishes out a tiny black notebook she seems to keep so well hidden, on the cover of the notebook the words ‘Nana’s Bucket List’ are scrawled in big, bold, immature-looking letters.

“Throughout all of my life, I always wanted to be the top student, the best of the best like no one ever was, and I succeeded, you know…” she scoffs. “Top marks in Elementary, Middle school, and Valedictorian in high school.” She sighs and tries to fight back more tears, though you notice she’s a bit more successful this time, with a bit of hope and yearning in her eyes.

"But on the other side… The other side seems so great. I mean, I see all these movies and books about college life," she says in between residual sobs and hiccups. She opens the notebook, showing you a not-so-long list, and even though it's hard to see the text from the small size of the writing, you can make out a little bit of what’s written on the paper.

Cheat on a test 

Get drunk

Party all night

Dye my hair

Sing in an Open stage show

Sneak into a Public pool

Shoplifting

You know...

Most of what you read makes zero sense, and you’re half-convinced this girl is just crazy. You stare at the scribbled letters, hoping to draw more meaning from them, but Nayeon shuts the little notebook in your face and starts putting it back away. 

"I want to do them all. Drinking, breaking glass bottles, partying, all that stuff," she explains dreamily. She zips up her bag and pats it down, making sure it’s secure beside her, and turns her attention back to you, “I want to live like a normal girl, you know what I mean?” she asks, you are not sure if its because of the tears, but her eyes seem to glitter.

"That's very cliche, Nana," you jab at her, making fun of the nickname she gave herself.

"That's all I know, though. Please." She takes your hand in between hers and looks up at you, teary-eyed and seemingly begging for her life.”This wouldn’t kill you, all I’m asking for is some help crossing stuff off of the list.”

You hate how well it works on you: her big, round eyes, her adorable little pout, her cute pleading voice. It goes against everything you know, and even now you’re sure you don’t want to get involved in whatever this would turn out to be. And yet, despite even the most deeply ingrained lessons you’ve learned for yourself, all it takes is a brief moment for it to come crashing down.

With a disbelieving sigh and a sense of regret creeping in, you ask: “What’s in it for me?”

~-~-~-~

You take a bite of your burger and breathe out. Cheap bun, dubious patty, artificial cheese, it all takes you back to a past life. You're left to momentarily wonder how you ended up where you are now, and slowly it comes back to you. You messed up.

"So, about the list." Nayeon sets down her cup, ice cubes clinking against each other as they swirl around her soda. "I already did one. So that’s one less thing for us to do”.

"I can do that much math, Nayeon. What do you take me for?" You chomp down on a few fries grumpily. 

"I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is there are just a few more months left until graduation, so we'll need to be quick. We can’t be lazy about this." She pulls out the little black notebook and flips to an unfamiliar page. The words "cheat on a test" has doodles of a devil's horns and wings and tail around it, with lots of eyes and ears decorating the rest of the ruled paper. Above it, the poster you recognize from the movie "Bad Genius" is copied, albeit crudely, in a thought bubble.

"I did this one last year, don't ask. Anyway, this next one should be easy enough." She flips to the next page, showing a couple pictures of beer cups and wine bottles, surrounding the words “Get Drunk.”

“Wait, is this the ‘incident’ people hate you for? What even happened there?” You eat more of your fries, trying to hide your curiosity. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and she nips the conversation in the bud.

“That’s not anything you need to know. What matters is now and the future. Now are you with me or not?” She snaps the notebook closed and yanks it away from your sight, back into the pocket she keeps it in. 

“I can’t help if I don’t know what exactly your deal is,” you say disappointedly. You pick up your own drink and take a sip, and the cool soda washes over your tongue and throat on the way down. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be with everything that’s going on.”

For a moment, you catch Nayeon’s gaze on you, dumbfounded. You could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she tries to process your logic, but it takes a while. As she thinks, though, you take a particular interest in how she handles it: her mouth is hanging slightly ajar and her eyes are only half-focused on wherever they’re pointed. You notice how delicately her bangs fall on her forehead, how her eyebrows furrow and crease, how she tries finding the right words yet can’t find the message she wants to send. Odd things to notice, surely, and yet here you are. You messed up.

It starts coming back to you. The jeers from your classmates as you walk down the hall grow louder in your ears, and you fight against your hands trying to cover them with the knowledge that none of it is real anymore. The tears you fight back all the time surface for another rematch, but with your current state, you may be at a disadvantage. 

Fortunately, she shocks you back into reality. “Hey, are you listening? I’m feeding you, so the least you could do is pay attention.” She bites a small chunk of her burger and chews, and you notice how her cheeks puff slightly and the corner of her mouth is decorated with a dollop of mustard. 

Cute.

1 + 2. Get drunk + Party All Night

“God, this is stupid,” you think to yourself, exiting the convenience store. With a plastic bag in your right hand and your phone in your left hand, checking the time and the address Nayeon sent you earlier today. Finding it was easier than you expected, and you tried not to let the walk to her dorm set any expectations for you.

You bring your knuckles to the wooden door and make three quick raps. It swings open very quickly and you’re dragged into the cozy space without even the slightest chance to take off your shoes. 

“You took forever! Did you bring the stuff?” She looks all over you and pats you down, looking for what you brought her. 

“Get off, will you? I put them all in my bag like a normal person.” You swing your backpack off your shoulder and carefully place it onto a nearby table. Nayeon takes a seat and waits excitedly for what you brought for the two of you. From your bag, you produce three bottles of soju, three five-packs of Yakult, six cans of beer, and four bags of chips. She eyes each item with absolute interest as they leave your backpack, and she hardly contains herself once you finish and zip up your bag once more. 

“Okay, so how does this work?” Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and while waiting for your instructions, it was clear that as much as she was excited, she was also inexperienced.

“First off, get us some shot glasses and a pitcher. Oh, and a can opener.” Nayeon bolts off to the cooking area, and you can hear drawers opening and shutting loudly. You start getting concerned when you hear plates start to clatter against each other, but thankfully it dies down quickly and she returns with two small glasses, a decently sized pitcher, and a can opener. 

“Shit. I meant bottle. Bottle opener.” Without even a hint of annoyance, she rushes back off into the kitchen and, after a few more rummaging sounds, she returns with the correct item. She really must not know what she’s doing.

“Come on, show me!” She shoves the bottle opener into your hand, and you’re left with no choice. 

“Don’t you have a roommate we have to worry about?” You pop the cap off one of the soju bottles and then tear the aluminum top off two bottles of Yakult. “She’s out with her own friends. Hurry!” Despite her starting to get on your nerves, you pour all three into the pitcher and swirl them around together. Once you’re done, you pour the mixture into each of the glasses until they’re full. 

“Bottoms up, Nayeon.” 

“Bottoms up!”

The both of you down your drinks: yours slowly crawls down your throat, but hers disappears straight into her stomach. She reels at the burning lines left by the alcohol all over her esophagus and takes a bit of time to recover. 

“Whoa, that was,” she says, and a burp erupts from her mouth, “intense.” She sways a little bit to the left before righting herself, and then overcompensates to lean to the left again. 

“Easy there, champ. We’ve got two more bottles to go through.” You pour another shot for each of you, hers first and then yours, and raise your glass once more.

“Open the chips now,” you tell her. “This’ll be less dreadful with food.” 

Both of you down your shots at the same time, and Nayeon reels at the sensation once more. 

“Does that get easier?” Her speech is slowly starting to slur, the poor thing. “I’m kinda feeling a little something right now, too…”

“Yes, but only if you keep going at it, idiot. Don’t down everything so quickly.” Grab one of the bags of chips yourself, open and present it to Nayeon on the center of the table.

“Eat. You’ll hate this less.” You take a handful of chips and bring all of them into your mouth. Once you do, you raise your eyebrow at her to tell her to do the same.

“Isn’t… *hic* being hungry the thing for… faster drunk?” 

“Apparently so, Nayeon. I don’t even know what I expected from you.” You take another shot, alone this time. She tries to pour her own shot, but fails miserably at getting the liquid anywhere near the inside of her shot glass. It’s adorable how she tries, though.

You pour her another shot despite a small voice telling you maybe she isn’t cut out for this much in such a short time. You shove the voice aside in favor of Nayeon’s own words: “We pregame, drink a little, and then we go. Party starts at 7:30, so we leave here by 7 o’clock.” Her shot glass fills with the drink, and you place it in front of her, making sure at least to keep an eye out for what might happen next. 

She successfully picks up the glass and, sans the spills she made on the glass's way from the table to her mouth, drinks everything she could. She slams the glass onto the table in no light movement and you have a slight inkling of regret at letting her do that to herself. 

“You… We have to… Fuck.” Nayeon’s head droops and she catches her face with her hands. She may have underestimated how strong soju is, or maybe what being drunk actually does to a person. A groan emanates from behind her palms, and you notice she’s having trouble holding herself up. 

“Aren’t we going out after this? You might wanna slow down, idiot.” You pour yourself another shot and drink it leisurely. Nayeon tries leaning back onto the chair, and she finally pries her hands away from her eyes. She does a few quick blinks, and she tries to focus her sight on you. Her head sways a little bit, and it dawns on you that you may have overestimated her. 

“I’m okay… just… we have to go.” She tries to stand up, but she wobbles dangerously and you have to catch her. Dive under her and take on her weight, thankfully not too heavy, and keep her from hitting the floor. She mumbles a bit about something you can only kind of understand, but it's enough to guide your next decision.

“Forget it,” you grunt as you plop her back into her chair, “we're not going anywhere.” An exasperated sigh leaves your lungs, and you head off to the kitchen to return with a large bottle of cold water.

“No… we have to go. We'll be late.” Nayeon tries to get up again, but there's no strength left in her body. She sits motionlessly, probably thinking that she's already stood up, and it gives way to a confused look on her face as to why she's still in the same place.

You fill a proper-sized glass with water and hand it to her, which she drinks obediently. You fill her palm with potato chips which she also eats without objection. The way her jaw moves, clumsy and slow, signals a threat that she might just fall over any minute.

You move your chair to her side and sit there, allowing Nayeon to lean her head on you. Her hair covers her reddening face, and her hiccups arrive in growing force.

“If you're still in there, Nayeon,” you say quietly, “we're not going out. I can't look after you this closely at a party.” All she does to respond is nod. Her hiccups are punctuated intermittently with sniffles, which you take as a sign that she knows she has no power left to object. 

Still, you feel bad for her as her plans fall through. Despite the responsible thing to do, put her to bed and leave, you kick yourself mentally before deciding to stay anyway.

“Movies and snacks?”

~-~-~-~

Before you know it, the night goes by just as quick. You go through the list of movies she’d always wanted to watch: The Truman Show, The Great Gatsby, Mean Girls, and even then there’s still a few left on her list. You could tell she was watching properly halfway through the first, and that was the telltale sign that she’d sobered up. 

You drink a bit more with her in between movies, and she would frequently pause to get up and put on a song to dance to. “It keeps me awake,” she said, “I can’t fall asleep before the good part happens.” The songs she put on are generic pop and the kinds you skip whenever they come up, but you let it pass for tonight.

At some point, she pulls out an old Wii and challenges you to Mario Kart. “I am undefeated in this game. I’m not even that good, everyone else that challenged me just sucked.” You take her up on her offer, and the match begins. You try and almost get ahead of her in a few of the turns, but she would always take back her lead at the slightest opportunity of you hitting a wall or missing an item. And the way she glows with pride every single time she crosses the finish line before you do, the sudden brightness that fills her face when she wins race after race, the confidence it gives her that she isn’t actually the worst person in the world, all of it is a sight to behold. People may see Kwon Nayeon as an arrogant goody-two-shoes traitor, but the way you see her now is different: just someone with a past to outgrow. 

Right as the last movie’s credits start rolling, mischievous thin rays of dawn sunlight slip past the tiny gaps in the curtains. Both you and Nayeon have little energy left for anything else, and you maybe think it’s time to call it a night and go home.

“Let me walk you out,” she says while trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for a little bit longer. You both get up and walk to the door, and as it opens your faces are flooded with a world right before it wakes. Dewdrops sit respectfully on leaves and blades of grass, birds are only starting to stretch their wings, and the crisp morning air fills your lungs with a calm grace. 

You turn back to Nayeon, who you find is still admiring the dawn, and grasp her elbow. “Sit with me.” 

You both squat down and take your seats again on her doorstep. Clouds roll in and dot the sky, wandering on the blank canvas of today, eagerly waiting for sunlight to block out. The sun peeks over the horizon and the first proper rays start to arrive, spreading warmth where they land. Nayeon meets your eyes one last time, and the pair of you find a sleepy and still a bit drunk person when you look at each other.

“Well,” you say as if it was a farewell, “good night, Nayeon. And good morning.”

“Good night,” she giggles back, “and good morning to you too.”

3. Sneak into a Public Pool

“Are you sure about this?” Nana’s tone is subdued by fear. Her voice shakes and struggles to be as quiet as possible, but at the same time you get the feeling that if you didn’t need to be quiet, she’d be yelling right now and trying to get the both of you to leave.

“Can you please shut up? I’m trying to focus!” You find the first of the pins and push it out of the way. For a moment, you lament how restricted you are: this could have been such a simple lock to break, replace even, but the girl dragging you around was deathly insistent on leaving as little damage and evidence as possible. 

“You shut up! I'm whispering here!” Anger rises in her voice, and you almost feel anger in yours too. You're able to stop it though, and you remind yourself that if ever a guard was on watch that actually cared about this place, they'd be easily outrun.

The lock presents more of a challenge than you thought; despite the agonizingly simple solution of snapping its shackle, its inner mechanisms are harder to crack for whatever reason. Taking it pin by pin is supposed to be an easy task, but the warm and humid air and the incessant nagging seem to debilitate you. It’s such a nice night out for a swim, why make this any harder than it needs to be?

After what seemed like eternity you finally manage to pick the lock, sighing in relief as the both of you head forward quietly, but cautiously looking side to side just in case. The metal-grate door swings open slowly, avoiding any creaking sounds it may make otherwise, and the both of you enter the pool area.

“I gotta say Nayeon, this went better than I thought it would,” you say, both of you looking at the rectangular box of water which unlike during the day, was completely still, no waves, no splashes, just the water. It glistened and reflected all manner of light: the pool lights above and below the water, the yellow street lamps far off on the sidewalk, and the moon overhead, singing tones of wonder and mystery to those touched by its borrowed glow.

Off to the side, you find Nayeon fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her head whips round incessantly as she tries to keep a lookout of the surroundings rather poorly. Sigh a deep one, and finally go over and take your seat next to her. 

“Thanks… gimme a sec.” She finally grabs the hem decisively. The fabric crumples a bit under her grip and folds as it's pulled up.

You can’t help but watch as the shirt starts to leave her body, revealing a slim and toned tummy underneath. Your breath hitches as it crawls higher, reaching her face and obscuring her sight, and she inadvertently shows off a dark purple sports bra that’s… a size too small. Your gaze lingers on her cleavage and the flesh of her boobs lightly spilling out of the garment.

Nana turns around and you’re treated with the view of a beautiful back and shoulders to die for. The way her body twists and turns in the slightest ways to negotiate the shirt off of her form is the most sensual dance you’ve ever seen.

And you realize you’re staring. Fortunately for you, she doesn’t seem to notice, and she continues on to fold the shirt properly before setting it next to her sports bag. You opt not to risk staring any longer, and you decide to get rid of your own shirt. You strip quickly, and your shirt flies off approximately near Nayeon’s things in a messy pile by itself.

Sit on the edge of the pool, dip your feet into the water. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be this warm, you think, but whatever the case may be, it feels like a tea that’s just about to go cold. This, coupled with the humid air and quiet atmosphere, makes for a perfect night to spend on whatever this is with her. 

She joins you and takes her seat at the edge of the pool, and in every other situation, you’d ask her to back off a bit. Instead, as she lays her head on your shoulder and takes your hand in between hers, you lose your steel in the most important of times. 

“I’m scared.” Her eyes never leave the water, taking in the light dancing on its surface. Her face is fraught with worry, and while you know it’s for no good reason, you nevertheless try to reassure her.

“Yeah, someone might jump out of the bushes and arrest us for swimming in a swimming pool,” you say mockingly. “They’re gonna take us to court on the charges of ‘using something the way it was meant to be used’ and we’re gonna get life sentences. When we’re all old and wrinkly they’re gonna sit us in the electric chair.”

“Okay, I get your point. But still, though, I’m scared.” She grips your hand tighter, and for some reason you can’t resist her. Place your other hand over hers and try to calm her down. Nana takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, and finally looks at you with a reserved grin.

“Alright, I’m good. Let’s go.” 

You feel her hand on your back, and warmth spreads from her palm. Her smile grows just a bit wider and her eyes follow suit. Her teeth show themselves from between her lips, and you’re almost tempted to dive right in. 

Lucky for you, she helps. The hand on her back suddenly applies more pressure, pushing you to the pool and causing a splash going all directions. Collect your thoughts and raise your head above the water to see Nana, face full of laughter, right before she dives in the water with you.

It takes a second, but her head resurfaces and you find yourself relieved. She catches her breath once more, and before you know it, you're met with a faceful of chlorinated water. “What are you staring at?” She says between hearty laughs. 

Wipe the water from your face, find the humor. Laugh with her, and face her properly.

Another shade of Kwon Nayeon. Granted, it's one with no makeup and way less clothes than usual, but none of that takes away from her natural, elegant beauty. It's captivating, the way her figure glides around the water, the way the cool night air wisps around the pair of you, the way the moon throws its rays around the world, your world, so haphazardly. 

Another faceful of water, and you snap out of your daze. “Creepy ass,” she snorts happily. She splashes you again, and this time you fight back. 

“Race you around the pool.” You start paddling, and the water grows loud against your ears. She says something back to you and starts paddling herself to catch up.

“Yeah,” you think to yourself, “whatever this is with her.”

4. Sing in an Open Mic

“Another night, another goal,” you muse, sitting in your car with Nayeon in the passenger seat. It has become quite a routine that every time she wants to do something on her bucket list she asks you to pick her up. You don’t mind too much — she pays for gas after all. 

“Where do we go this time?” Nayeon just shoves her phone in your face, showing a map with directions to some bar out of town. She looks at you expectantly, but without any more information than what you’re currently getting, you’re at a loss for what she’s trying to make you see.

“A club.”

“Exactly.”

“We already did ‘get drunk.’”

“I know. This is different.”

“How so?”

“Take me here. Make me sing. Take me home.”

The pieces connect in her head and she pulls out the notebook again. She flips to a page you again haven’t seen, and when she shows it to you you’re treated to the sight of “Open Mic Stage” in graffiti-style letters and the poster of “Wedding Singer” scrawled in the bottom right corner of the page. 

“If you have the map, why not just do this yourself? You didn’t need to wait for me. If anything, I’d only laugh at how bad you might be.” You push away her phone and notebook, choosing to return your attention to the sidewalk instead. The boba tea place you keep hearing about is nearby. 

“That’s the thing,” Nayeon interjects again, “I have been there before. I listened to all the people singing, and they’re… some are good. I don’t know if I am, but I got shy at the last minute and I never even got near the stage.” She grabs your sleeve and your attention. “I need you to make me sing. Don’t let me chicken out.”

You shrug, “Sure, let's do it.”

~-~-~-~

Taking up two seats at the bar, you try and seem to fail at helping Nayeon calm down. Her guitar rests against the bartop beside her while she fans herself hurriedly with her hand. “It’s so nerve-racking… I knew this was a mistake,” she adds before turning back and trying to leave the place, however, you stop her in her tracks

“Come on, you worked so hard for this,” you say, recalling the number of recordings she sent you: one for each take she was doing. “You can do this,” you continue reassuring her, knowing she’s more ready than ever. At the same time, you could see your friend get more nervous by the second, now taking more sips of her water bottle.

“But what if I miss a chord, or I sing badly? Everyone will laugh at my mist–'' You know at this point she’ll only spiral to worse and worse thoughts, so you nip it in the bud and stop her right there. You take both her shoulders in your hands, making Nayeon stop her nervous rambling, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“I believe in you, Nana. just take a deep breath.” You stop to let her do as you say, taking a deep breath in and slowly breathing it out. The tension leaves her with each breath she takes, and you find a moment to keep her stable. “Good, I am sitting right here, not leaving for any reason, so if you feel nervous, just find me. Look at me.” Her gaze softens at your promise, and her lips form a tiny smile in response to your words. 

Hearing the current open mic singer finishing up his song, you send her off with some final words. “Your turn now, Nana. Break a fucking leg.” You leave her shoulders as her smile slowly starts to grow.

You watch her heading toward the stage, taking her guitar out of the cover, and taking her seat on the chair in front of the mic. “Hey,” she starts, “I am Nayeon… and I’m gonna sing Spring Day by BTS… I, uhh, hope you enjoy.”

She takes one last deep breath as you find her gaze on you. You return a reassuring smile, and Nayeon’s eyes fly back to her guitar. She strums her first chord, and the crowd’s welcoming applause rises.

“I’m missing you, when I say that I miss you more, I’m missing you…” Nayeon’s fingers strum the strings delicately, and it enchants you how graceful and in control she is of her instrument. The wood and metal of her guitar work together under her guidance to produce a beautiful sound, one you feel deep inside you'd never have heard the beauty of if not here, not now.

The way her lips move to articulate her words is heavenly, like she has you under a benevolent spell to bring you a rare sort of peace. It captivates you how she carries herself; behind her tough outer shell is a scared and confused layer, which hides a soft and optimistic core and wants to chase a brighter, happier future by cherishing the present. You marvel at your luck, that you were permitted to see so much of her, and how openly she welcomed you in when all she knew was aloneness and to shut people out. 

“Snowflakes falling from the sky, are drifting further by and by…” Her heavenly voice draws you in, and it commands your attention like it speaks directly to your soul. The sound of Nayeon tugs on your heartstrings, pulling you closer to its source, and you let yourself get whisked away.

And to its source you look; find a girl with courage like you’d never seen. See Kwon Nayeon in a different light than the harsh monotones of the classroom fluorescents, but in a spotlight that she takes up with everything in her soul. It’s a different shade of her: a shade of Nayeon that only you could comprehend, a part of her that only you had the privilege to understand.

“I breathe you out there somewhere, like smoke in the air…” The space grows warmer, like a hearth welcoming you home. Your surroundings quiet down as Nayeon pulls them deeper and deeper with her subconscious command: rest, lay down your worries and fly for the moment towards your peace. You look around, and every fellow face in the crowd you see has their eyes fixed on Nayeon’s performance; they’d never know it, but it’s the debut of a person coming into a whole new life free of regret and cowardice. It’s Nayeon building herself up from the rubble of a past that she aims to forget. 

“Flowers blooming towards the sky, has winter finally passed by?” The noise of the world seems to die down, as if just you and Nayeon are the only two things in existence. The pace of her strumming slows, as do the lyrics that escape her mouth. Every note she produces is deliberate, gentle, comforting, and for once you feel like you’re able to imagine a brighter tomorrow like her. 

With her. 

The song draws to a close, and she looks all over the crowd as they start to clap. You can't help but join in. Nayeon just bows lightly, and you can feel how happy she is that everything went well in her song. As she steps off the stage, you leave your spot and head toward her.

With both of you only a couple of steps apart, you chuckle lightly, “Well it wasn't so bad was—” You were stopped, caught off guard by your friend, dashing to you with open arms and crashing into your chest, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace. 

No words are spoken; both of you just stand there, hugging each other, her face nuzzling your chest as you could faintly feel her heartbeat. You were quite surprised with Nayeon being so open with you, since it was just a short time ago you made your promise to help. 

“Thank you…” she says, now releasing you from her embrace, noticing how her eyes shed small tears, that you couldn't figure out if they are tears of sadness, or happiness.

“... Always here for you Nayeon.”

“Please… call me Nana,” she says. She takes her notebook and crosses off another line from her bucket list, and as she walks toward the exit, you make way for the people coming by to greet her for the performance.

You can't help but wonder… has something changed after that performance?

5. Shoplifting

“Pick something already, it's not that hard,'' you remark impatiently while tapping your feet. Both of you are staring at the snack section of the local convenience store near your college, and Nana hovers her hand over the selection of snacks to look for the perfect one.

“Stop rushing me, I'm trying to choose which one will not get me caught,” she replies, still focused. The veteran petty thief in you groans, recalling your highschool days where nicking a cigarette or two (or ten) every once in a while gave you back huge chunks of your monthly budget. You miss the simplicity of it, and you once again find the restriction of being so careful more annoying than anything else. How come for Nayeon it is such a big struggle to steal one snack? You shoot the question up to whichever god might be listening, and you even half-expect an answer back. 

“You are thinking about it too much, the cashier is probably not gonna notice even if you stole something that made noise,” you add, tapping your foot rapidly, like you were some parent spending too long in the toy section.

“Well, please forgive me, oh thug master, it’s my fault that I never did that shit before!” Her whispers are loud enough for you to hear clearly, your less-than-welcoming attitude leading her to take a deep sigh.

“Fine, if you want to make it easier, do the buy one steal one method,” you explain. 

“The what?”

“Well to make it simpler than it already is, you dolt, you take two things, one you buy normally, and the other one you don't pay for,” you added as it seems to all make sense in Nayeon’s head. “Defeats the fucking purpose why we’re here, but really, the longer we spend here to leave with just four things, the more anyone will suspect us.”

Despite your best efforts to hurry her, they all seem to only make her take even longer. Her brow furrows deeper, as if trying to form lasers in her eyes to burn holes through the plastic wrappers. 

Your patience wears thinner by the moment, and you resolve to isolate before you lose it completely. “So if you’ll excuse me, I will get my shit and meet you outside,” you say, leaving her alone in the aisle.

As a promise to yourself not to shoplift anymore, you decide to buy just one pack of cigarettes. You light one of them as you lean against one of the store’s walls, watching the sun start to set. Find yourself sitting down, admiring the beauty of a day near its end, taking in the world around you.

Two cigarettes and fifteen minutes later, a small ding sounds from somewhere in the front of the store. It’s Nayeon, half-running out of the building, her face painted with worry as she finds and walks towards you.

“So, you did it?” A smile forms on Nayeon’s face as she takes her right hand to her jean’s pocket, revealing a small candy bar. She brandishes the candy around like a magic wand, as if trying to charm you into being proud of her. 

“Well… it's something,” you nod, while the two of you start towards her dormitory.

“Oh don’t say ‘it’s something’ when you didn't steal anything,” she exclaims. She holds the candy bar up against the setting sun, examining its entire wrapper. Now that you’re a considerable distance from the store, the worry on her face has been replaced completely by pride and excitement.

“Well I don’t shoplift anymore, the only reason I'm letting you do it is because you wanted the experience, which by the way,” you scoff, plucking the snack out of her hands, “all of that was for a chocolate bar.” This earns you a pretty strong punch on the shoulder, and the force loosens your grip on the snack enough for Nayeon to steal it back.

“Shut up,” she says, her cheeks seeming to grow a small shade of pink. She walks faster, leaving you no choice but to speed up as well.

6. Dye my Hair

“Do you think blonde hair will suit me?” Nana asks, holding the color card next to her face. You come in for a closer look, but as you stare you stop and wonder why you even did so in the first place. 

“Yeah… uhh yeah, I think it can suit you well.” You weren't an expert in hair styles and colors, so honestly unless it was a color that was actually hideous, everything was fair game.

Nana smiles at your response and picks out a box of blonde hair dye to add to her basket. You’re a bit nervous that she wants to dye it at home with you, but any attempts you made to convince her to see an actual stylist have been dismissed. “It’s easy,” she said, “there’s instructions on the box.”

“So, how was it?” You’re half-convinced that the bleach is eating through your rubber gloves, but you soldier on.

“Was what?” Nayeon checks herself out in the mini-vanity mirror in front of her. You have to swat her hands away from her head with your elbows, but apart from that she stays on her best behavior.

“You know,” you shrug, “this whole thing. The stealing, the swimming, the dyeing your hair.” You try to keep the bleach from dripping onto your arms, mostly aiming for the scattered sheets of newspaper the two of you prepared on the floor, but there’s only so much you can do. You just resolve to wash off any drops as quickly as possible. 

You get the feeling that she hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. The smile on her face dimmed the slightest it could before she could fix it. “It was… great! Stuff I’ll remember for the rest of my life, for sure.” 

Like some form of cosmic karma, she spots your involuntary grin in the mirror. “Good. That’s good.”

The color drains from her hair bit by bit as you apply the bleach carefully. You’re not sure how quickly you have to finish, but Nana seems not to mind. You gently stroke and rub the product through her hair, taking special care not to come into contact with her scalp too often, all the while she turns her head from side to side to admire the look she’s going to have soon. 

“You know…” she says suddenly, avoiding your eyes in the mirror, “this was really fun. I’m so happy I got to do all that stuff on my list.” Her smile changes: what was once a cheerful and optimistic smile just a few moments ago is now a wizened and melancholic one. “I mean it. Thank you for helping me.” 

She makes eye contact with you again in the mirror, and she flashes that smile to you once more. Her hair grows lighter with each passing second, and as her back relaxes and straightens, it seems that the weight of the world leaves her shoulders as well. She breathes more easily now, and despite the fumes the box says you should do your best not to inhale, you breathe easier too.

~-~-~-~ 

You’re sat back again on her sofa, and Nana tries her best not to mess with her hair that’s still soaking. She looks kind of silly, what with her old towel around her shoulders faded to near oblivion, her hair in sections making her look like a half-done scarecrow, her hands going up halfway to her head only to be forced back down by the other. 

And yet, you admire another shade of Nayeon. This time, it’s a girl who’s scared of the future, of changes she might regret later on. It’s something deep in her character, even central maybe, to be afraid of things she can’t take back. Even then, she takes her leaps and bounds to try and outrun her past, and finally, you see the razor edge that keeps everything in balance: Nayeon’s fear which dictates her present, and Nana’s strength which leads her to her future. 

“Hey,” you say abruptly, surprising even yourself, “you good?” 

“I think so. My head’s itchy. Is that supposed to happen? Should we wash it off?”

“No, jackass, it’ll look even worse if you quit halfway.” 

Your words set in and she realizes you’re right. Worry seeps into her face and you notice tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Look, this might not be comfy right now, but I promise it’ll be worth it later on.”

“Really? You promise it’ll look good?” She looks over to you with pleading, shiny eyes, and it almost hurts to tell her no.

“I said I promise it’ll be worth it. Not that it’ll look good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You chuckle at the sudden rise in her voice. After all this time, she’s still Nayeon, still Nana. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It means… if you stick with it, there’s no way you’ll regret what we just did.”

7. You know…

The end of your senior year of college rolls around, and the graduation ceremony is still fresh in everyone’s minds. Photos of friends together and square caps thrown into the air decorate your social media feeds for a good few days, and you can’t deny the whole thing was something you wouldn’t forget for the rest of your life.

And finally, Nana’s bucket list has been finished. To think that all of it was done in the span of a college year is quite impressive to say the least, as before you started she was lost in her own goals and left sitting for a good three years. Now, looking at your diploma, it was not only a sign of your successful studies at college, for you it was also the sign of helping your dear friend get to where she wanted to be. 

Speaking of the devil, now sending you a message

On the way, you see various people from her dorm building heaving away bags and suitcases, undoubtedly taking advantage of the nice weather to move out. You see people hugging each other, taking selfies, exchanging numbers, and all the while you think of each of them with their own stories to tell when they get home, but none so interesting as the one you and Nana built together. 

The walk up the stairs was more of the same, people saying goodbye, and you can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia. It was by no means a short year, but for everything you did, the feeling of wanting just a bit more time never seems to leave you. You recall the first time you saw her, that quiet girl in the front of the auditorium with four seats of clearance around her, and how you slowly watched her grow into the fine and confident woman she is now. Part of you is unbelievably proud of what she’s achieved, but another part of you knows it’s all her doing and you were only along for the ride. 

You reach Nana’s room just as her roommate was leaving, and you exchange pleasantries with her before she goes off. “Hey, just so you know, Nayeon’s a really nice girl,” she says in whispers to you, “I’m glad she found you before she left.” She pats you on the back before going off to the stairs herself. Something deep inside you glows in agreement, and you think to yourself how lucky you were to be able to meet and spend time with a person like her.

“Hey, come in!” Nana pushes you into her now half-empty room. “Yuri just left, so we have the place all to ourselves!” You take a seat on her easy chair while she plops herself down onto her bed. The half that still has stuff in it is simple and unassuming, and the realization dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve been in Nana’s room. Despite this, the space is warm and cozy, like it was filled with a good sort of energy for a long time. 

“Cheers” you both say at the same time, each with a can of beer that you both drink fairly quickly. You recall the first time of her drinking with you, how easily she felt her stomach hurting but this time she quickly shrugs off the bitter taste.

“You know,” Nana says, her eyes shining and her smile flashing itself directly at you, “I am really happy that you helped me with the bucket list, I couldn't do it without you.”

You simply laugh casually and say “Come on Nana, all you needed was confidence.”

“And who do you think gave me that confidence? I really mean it…thank you,” she says, and you can't help but smile at her back.

“Let me get some snacks, okay? Don’t move a muscle.” As she stands and heads toward the kitchen, you go to check up your phone to see what the time is. However, just as you are about to go into your Instagram, you notice something on the table: a little black notebook that’s only all too familiar. 

When you think about it, She has never shown you the actual list besides that one time when you two first talked. “A peek won't hurt right?” you say, the alcohol definitely makes the choice for you. Your sober self would never invade someone's privacy, especially not some as close as Nana’s, but regardless, you open it and…

You flip through the pages, and the notebook reveals so much more. The few pages you’ve been shown were just decorated pages, and each mission was a chapter, filled with dozens of writings, pictures, scribbles, each for its own topic. You find yourself smiling, muttering quietly to yourself: “You really worked hard on it… didn't you?” 

Your attention is snatched to Nana across the room, looking at you with cheeks fully red. You can't help but curse quietly, and you try to come up with something of an apology. However before you can finish your first word she says…

“Hey, come on, put that down!” Nana rushes toward you, nearly tossing the snacks off to some random part of the room, and snatches away the little black notebook from your hands. She hugs it close to her chest as she turns away, and she looks over her shoulder to peek if you might still be thinking about snatching the notebook back.

Instead, you raise your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sorry. But what's there to hide? Aren't we done?” You take another sip of your drink before picking up one of the snacks. You open the bag of chips and place it on the table for the both of you. 

“Well… I had one other thing. I gave up on it a long time ago, just never ripped out the page.” Nana turns back toward you and fiddles with a leaf of the notebook. Her steps are careful when she gets nearer to you, as if cautious to scare you away. 

“What?!” You bolt to your feet in surprise, your drunkenness taking a backseat at the sudden exposition. “Shit, we gotta go now! What is it?”

“Calm down,” Nana mutters, her feet rubbing against the carpet, “it isn't something we can do anywhere else anyway. Or, I mean, it’s done? I don’t know…”

Your nerves are still flaring, but you get the feeling that whatever it is, there's nowhere else but where you are now that Nana could do the last bucket list thing. Your gaze steadies on her, and she looks like she wouldn't budge for the world. Her eyes never leave the floor, her hands stay guarded on the notebook, and for some reason, she's also able to keep you just where you are. 

“So… what is it, then?” 

“Promise me you won't get mad?”

“... Promise.”

Once she hears you say it, her eyes shut tight. As if gathering courage, she takes a deep breath before taking deliberate steps to where you're standing. You never see it coming, but the next thing you know, Nana's soft lips are on yours, her delicate fingers keep you steady in place, and her vanilla scent fills your nose and overwhelms your senses that you can't think of anything at all but her.

It takes only half a second, but you melt into the kiss yourself. Your eyes flutter closed and start to forget the world around you in favor of the girl who stayed by your side. The space between the two of you grows smaller, your hands make their way to her waist, and you let your selfishness take over and keep her for yourself as well. 

The kiss breaks just as you hold her, and both your eyes shoot open to find hers just as wide as yours. 

“I-I, umm… I’m sorry, it was too sudden, and uhh…” It wasn't too hard to see how much she was stuttering, and if you weren't so surprised yourself you would've also joined her like the blushing mess she is right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit you again, and your better judgment slowly left you as you took her lips once more. You have no time to be surprised at how willing she is, and you resolve to just enjoy the kiss with her. You lead her to the edge of the bed and sit her down; and the first chance she gets, she lies back onto the mattress and pulls you with her. 

“If you really wanna know…” She flips to the last page of the notebook and shows you. It’s a simple picture, just two stick figures in a heart, holding hands. You don’t recognize the poster, but the quote is unmistakable: “You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.”

“I’m glad we got to spend all this time together, and I know I keep thanking you, but I really am so happy…” Nana pulls you back in, and with your own sweet defiance, you trace kisses across her cheek and onto her neck. The whimpers that escape her are adorable, but at the same time they also confirm thoughts you’ve only ever tried to suppress: she likes you too. 

You go lower and lower, tracing kisses from her neck to nibbling her collarbone, and you settle right before you reach her chest. Her breath hitches when she figures out what you want to do, but ultimately her fingers rake comfortingly through your hair.

“So tonight… let me show you… let me thank you… properly.” Her eyes may look pure when she says those words, but with how you are inches away from her lips, with how you have been kissing her now, it's anything but.

She slowly pulls off her jacket, her eyes never leaving you. The fabric slides off of her arms, revealing the smooth skin of her slender arms. The next to go is her tank top; her fingers grip the hem lightly, tugging slowly upwards, showing you her toned tummy and milky skin. The hem rises higher and higher, until she stops right under her chest. 

“Are you sure?” Your question is breathless, not in the slightest bit annoyed, but your tone full of concern reaches her. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know,” she says, the sound of her voice betraying a dry throat, “I love you.” She pulls the rest of her top off, and her boobs bounce freely in front of you. Nana takes your hands and places them on each, and asks you playfully, “Come on, you think I never caught you staring?”

She pulls you back in for a kiss, a proper one this time, the kind that quenches your thirst for her. She tries her best to wrap her tongue around yours, all the while you take your fill of her soft tits. Pinch and tweak her nipples, feel them stiffen as her tiny whimpers grow into careless moans. You never let up, delivering constant pleasure to her chest, and your surprise when you feel her palming your growing bulge is quickly replaced with anticipation. 

Her hand slips under your waistband and her moan fills your mouth when she feels how hot and hard your cock is for her. She wraps her fingers around your shaft and gives long, slow strokes, nothing that would make you cum on the spot, but just about enough to make you leak precum onto her palm. She relishes the feeling of your arousal on her skin, and as she picks up her pace, seemingly trying to entice you to do more, you’re left with no choice but to give her exactly what she wants. 

You work on unzipping your jeans and taking them off, and with Nana’s help, it feels like the second easiest job in the world. They fall to your ankles and you kick them away, and all of a sudden your cock rests on the skin of her luscious thigh. The heat and the precum that leaks onto her flesh surprises her, but her senses come back to her and she asks for a time out. 

“Gimme a sec, I have to breathe,” she gasps unsteadily. You get off her, wondering what you might have done wrong. Her breathing is ragged and she seems to not be able to focus on much else, but a reassuring look in her eyes lets you know she’s alright. 

“I just– I needed to see it.” Her gaze falls on your cock, and once she reaches and wraps her fingers around your shaft again, it throbs in her hand. A groan of pleasure escapes you, and she figures out that she’s doing something right. Her pumps start slow, gradually building up speed, all the while she brings her face closer and closer, and you don’t even notice it, but finally her lips meet the tip of your dick. Nana rubs your precum all over her lips like lipstick, and she takes your head in her mouth. 

Small groans come from your mouth feeling her soft lips, you enjoy much more than you thought, especially knowing how inexperienced you thought she was. Your hands meanwhile grab a part of hair, pulling it lightly, causing Nana to moan into your cock.

“Don't get mad if I do this wrong–” she says, her eyes fraught with worry. Despite this, she makes careful moves to give you the best possible experience. She seals her lips around your head, and she gives slow but deep sucks as she tries her hardest. 

“You’re– nngh– doing great,” you moan, the pleasure overtaking you. The eye contact you two share is enchanting; she’s undoubtedly a very pretty girl, and despite the amateur blowjob, she more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Her head bobs slightly, trying to take more of your length in, but her worry of choking keeps her from giving any more. 

On the other hand, she has no idea of the effect she has on you, and the sight of the gorgeous woman’s plump lips on your cock coupled with her eager attempts at making you feel good nearly sends you over the edge early. In an effort to stave off your orgasm for even just a little while longer, you regrettably pull her off of you. 

“What– what’s wrong? Wasn’t it good?” Again her words are coated with worry of disappointing you, but the way you look tenderly to her reassures her. 

“You are perfect, Nana,” you whisper into her ear. You lay her back onto the bed gently, and you let show your eagerness to please her too. You venture down until you’re level with her crotch, and you work slowly to peel off her thin shorts. As they leave her legs, you’re presented with a pastel blue pair of panties, though you can’t help but notice the growing wet spot right in the center and the scent of her arousal seeping through. It must be uncomfy, you think, and you strip it off of her as well. 

The garment leaves her and you look to Nana for approval: her finger between her teeth and her face red as a tomato, she looks at you with a loving gaze. Only then do you realize that Nana is now fully naked, everything bare for you and you alone, and the way her thighs rub together needily sends the message you’ve been dying to get. 

Part her legs, meeting little resistance as you do. Travel up from her knees to her thighs, planting kisses and light nibbles on the soft flesh of her legs. Hearing how she whimpers beneath your lips: “That feels really good… I want more…” 

Your lips finally meet her pussy, and the initial contact draws out a sultry moan from her. Each swipe of your tongue on her cunt causes more and more of her love juices to leak out, sending waves of ecstasy up her spine. She tries locking your head in place as she runs her fingers through your hair, all the while she grinds her crotch on your face as she chases her pleasure. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, you feel so good! I love you~!” Nana humps your face more and more roughly, and you take it as a sign that she’s close. Good thing as well, as you’re running out of air, but on the other hand you feel as though this wouldn't be the worst way to go. You run your tongue over her soaked pussy, taking slow, deep licks. 

She’s inching closer to her orgasm, her hips are bucking onto your mouth, your tongue meets her clit, she squeezes your head between her thighs, your lips seal around her swollen nub, she grabs your hair and pulls hard, and with a scream ripping through her throat, Nana squirts her love juices straight into your waiting mouth as you drink her essence up. Her scream turns into a drawn-out moan as she continues to grind on your face, making sure to pleasure herself enough to give you everything you’ve been working so hard for, and you lap every single drop of it up like it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. 

She releases her grip on your hair and head, and as she relaxes onto the bed her arms fall to the sides and her legs spread open. She lazily brings a hand to her pussy and rubs it, showing you just how good you made her feel, and she smiles up at you. 

“That was fucking amazing.” It couldn’t have sounded any sweeter, and the fact that it came from Nana, lying on her bed wearing nothing but a smile that you gave her, fills you with a sort of pride that you doubt you’d ever get again anywhere else in your life. But as she starts to get up, and she places her lips on yours, you feel another weight lifted off your chest. It’s another shade of her, one that shows you how she is when she’s content. It’s her way of telling you that among the hundreds of firsts she’s had in her life, she’s grateful that you were this one too. And as you kiss back, your hands finding their way to her hips, you connect with her again on a level that you never put into words before. “I love you too, Nana.”

Upon hearing, her kiss deepens and her tongue works harder to play with yours. She leans on you more, until finally you let yourself fall backwards, and Nana is right there, straddling you, with an innocent yet horny look in her eyes again.

“Your turn. Relax, okay?” She caresses your cheek, and suddenly you’re made conscious of how bad you’re probably blushing right now. Despite this, her smile never leaves her face as she continues to reassure you. She giggles at whatever expression it is that you’re showing her, and she gets to work. 

Nana reaches to her bedside table and opens a drawer, and from it she produces a peculiar box. “Remember when I ‘stole’ that candy bar?” She tears off the sticker on the edge of the box to open it, pulls out a little plastic square pouch, and tears it open with her teeth. “I… bought… the candy bar. This was what I stole.” She tugs on the contents of the pouch, and reveals a condom. 

“What the–” you start, but you soon stop in favor of moans caused by Nana’s handjob. “Don’t ever belittle me like that again, okay?” Her smile is again just as sweet and innocent as the first time you saw it, but now is completely different. It never leaves her face as she pulls the rubber over your cock, but not before giving it a few more cursory licks.

“Ready?” she asks, and you nod furiously. Finally, she aims the tip of your cock at her entrance and slowly sinks down onto you. “Oh, fuck, it’s so big,” she gasps. She takes her time taking in your length, feeling every vein against her pussy walls as you enter her tight pussy. She sucks air in through her teeth, her eyes shut tight, her fingernails leaving imprints on your chest as more and more of you slides into her unbelievably tight cunt. As she does, you feel her wet velvet walls rub your cock inside her, her slick spreading all over you and coating you with a warm you can’t describe. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, she finally hilts, having taken everything inside her, and she sits on your crotch without moving, still trying to get used to the feeling of her pussy being so full. 

“You good?” you ask, genuinely concerned if she’s okay or not. Place a hand on her waist, pat to comfort her. Her eyes open slowly, almost releasing a tear, and panic rises in your chest. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, do you need to get off? I–” you start, but she shuts you up with another kiss. It’s slow and gentle as it starts, just simple pecks, as she reassures you once again that she’s alright. Once she pulls away, she flashes you another smile, and you swear she gets more and more beautiful with each and every one. 

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” She traces circles on your cheek and neck, and all you could do is nod. She comes back in for another kiss, and this time it’s much deeper. She opens her mouth to moan, and you jump at the opportunity to swipe at her tongue too. She loves it, and once she’s comfy enough, she starts to hump against you as well.

“It’s really really good. Do you feel good?” Her question snaps you out of your daze, but you only nod as you fight off cumming too early. Not long after that, you note she’s had her fill as she pulls away from you. Her posture straightens and she sits on you properly again, this time determined to return the favor and blow your mind. She takes in a deep breath, braces herself, and lifts herself up carefully. Your breath hitches, watching her naked figure on top of you, and you admire the way her sweat collects in drops before they slide down between her breasts. She notices you staring again, and she brings your hands up to her chest, moaning at the first moment of contact. Your instincts overtake you; you push yourself off the bed to her boobs and start to suck. Your lips seal around her nipples and she runs her fingers through your hair as she tries to push you deeper into her delicious breast. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” Nana pleads, and you continue kneading the flesh of her boobs more, sucking when and where you can. At that moment, she forces herself back down onto your dick, taking in everything again all at once. Her walls part suddenly, and once she settles her warm pussy walls squeeze your cock as tight as she can. She begins bouncing, her moans never stopping, and you find a rhythm: each time Nana brings herself down, you thrust up to meet her halfway. The first time you do, you reach a depth to her that neither of you thought was possible, and the heat from her sex with her slick drive the pair of you insane with pleasure. 

She keeps bouncing on your cock as her lewd moans gradually grow louder and louder with each of your thrusts into her needy core. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her pussy tightens again, and just as you deliver a perfectly-timed bite to her nipple, another scream rakes out of her throat as her second orgasm overtakes her. Her pussy convulses as her hips buck again and again on your cock, her thighs and tits jiggle seductively, and her tightness reaches new heights as if she wants to keep your cock inside her forever. Despite this, you never stop thrusting her, never stop making love to her, and you cover her chest in kisses while you lick up all her sweat. 

You never give her a chance to catch her breath, and soon enough, an unknowable number of seconds or minutes past, you feel your own orgasm coming. You take one last look at her godly figure and divine visuals, and you finally succumb.

Hold her close, hold her tight. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you getting away, so you only return the desire. Keep thrusting into her, forget about how she’s losing her mind. She’s gone, lost in her own pleasure, and there’s no point in bringing her back yourself. Instead, follow her. Send yourself over the edge and join her in her ecstasy.

You momentarily lose your flow of consciousness as flashes of white fill your eyes, but you’re snapped back to reality with Nana pulling at your hair. Only then do you realize; you’re actually cumming inside her. With each spurt, you thrust into her as your cock twitches against her slick walls. The cumulative heat from your cum sends just the right signals to Nana’s body, and it sends back the equivalent of screams of desperation at the illusion of breeding. Your pumps are harsh and careless – thank the stars you’re wearing a condom – but Nana is too far lost to care past the unholy pleasure you deliver to her. 

“Fuck, fuck! Aaaahhh!!!!” You feel her tighter, as if clamping down on your cock, her cunt pulsating and the connection between the two of you growing wetter, slicker. Despite this, you never let up, hell-bent on giving her everything you have. One spurt turns into two, then four, then six. It didn’t matter, none of it did. It could have been the end of the world and you wouldn’t have minded. All that was important was the girl sitting on your lap, losing her mind.

As both of your orgasms die down, the pair of you fall to the mattress. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and out of breath, and all you can do is smile and giggle at each other. As each of you catch your breath, the world quiets down, and all that’s left in existence is just you and Nana. 

“Wow,” she sighs, “nice.” Her smile grows wide again, and her hand once more finds your cheek to caress.

“Yeah, nice.” You laugh back at her, the adrenaline fading quickly. “Does that check the thing off your list?”

“Oh, yeah!” Nana jolts up and off the bed, or at least attempts to. Instead, she falls back next to you, and only then do you realize the fatigue rendering your bodies useless. 

“So… we good?” There’s nowhere else to look but right to her. Nana’s beautiful, round, just a bit teary eyes gaze back at you with adoration and love, something you never thought you’d have for yourself in this magnitude. And yet, here you are, and here she is, as if nothing else mattered. 

“Shit. That was crazy. Anyway, yeah. Thanks.” With her last ounce of strength, she comes in for one more kiss. She collapses in your arms, cuddled right up to your chest, and you can imagine she could hear how loud your heart was thumping, just like hers. 

Catch her snoring an adorable snore, wrap her in an embrace that would protect her from the worst the world could throw at her. A small thought in your head says you want to keep her safe forever like this, but you know better: she’s a strong woman who can take care of herself. Think back to how lucky you are, and how you walked this journey with her. Recall how she was just a fearful nobody when you first met, remember how you watched her grow into the amazing person she is now. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, and you realize your waking seconds left are numbered. Right before you drift off to sleep yourself, you hear her, in the tiniest voice ever, mumbling her confession: “Stay with me.”

“Go to sleep, Nana.” You smile and turn your head toward hers, arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Not without a promise.” Her own eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell she’s fighting back her drowsiness as hard as she can. She tries blinking the sleep away, but it only works marginally.

You could say anything to her at all right now, anything in the world, but there’s really only two things that need to be put into words. Your mind rushes at a snail’s pace, and you reach for faraway ideas when the right one is just in front of you. In your mind only one question appears: “So is this like…a one time thing?” 

In response Nana just leans in and kisses your cheek, then giggles. “Would me saying ‘I love you’ outside of sex prove it?” she asks playfully, her tone betraying her desire for rest.

“Touché.” One hand goes to her soft blonde hair, brushing it to the side. “But in my defence, suddenly kissing me and then getting me naked was not the first thing I expected when you said there was ‘one last thing’ in your bucket list,” you state matter-of-factly.

You share a bout of tired laughter for a moment, and then you both look at each other with pure eyes, as if you two compete to see who can make the other blush first. Decidedly, Nana loses while she confesses. “I used to think that college was supposed to be all rose-colored, that it was to be the peak of my life. But spending it with you, I learned that it doesn’t have to be all grand milestones to live through.” The air in the room swirls differently, replacing stale breaths with new ones from the open window. 

“That time you cheered me on during the open mic, how you looked at me… It made me realise that after everything’s said and done, I wanted peace. And I can feel peace with you, without all the guilt of past mistakes, nor ghosts of regret that would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life,” she says, now leaning toward your ear muttering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, smiling from ear to ear. Eventually you both released the hug. Look around her room for your clothes, which was surprisingly hard for how your sex wasn't too feral, and in turns take showers to clean yourselves up.

As you get out of the shower, fully cleaned and with some good-enough-for-sleep clothes, you find Nana on her bed fully knocked out. You simply laugh and join her, and her instinct leads her to wrap her arms around your waist while her head leans into your chest.

“Goodnight, Nana,” you whisper with finality, as if ending the night on a perfect note. Peck her forehead and close your own eyes, and fall into slumber just as deep as hers.

Bucket List Completed

“Argh, I’m so excited!” She grips you by your collar and shakes you as she screams, jolting away any sleep you wished to get. 

Two months have come and gone, and while you know it hasn’t been long, things have changed so much. Despite you trying to get just a bit more sleep in the backseat of the taxi, Nana right next to you can’t stop bouncing in hers as the sights outside the window pass her by.

“Okay, okay. Just get all this energy out before we get on the plane, please?”

She returns her attention to the window just as the taxi slows to a halt. Your new girlfriend practically throws open the door and leaps out, heading straight for the trunk to retrieve your luggage. 

“Hurry up! We might miss our flight!” She struggles lifting her comically large suitcase before you hear it hits the concrete pavement followed by its handle extending with its clack-clack-clack. 

“Hawaii isn’t going anywhere, Nana, please,” you mutter as you lazily exit the cab. You hand the driver your fare, and he reaches out to accept. As he does, he gives you a knowing smirk and tips his hat to you, as if saying “good luck.”

Turning around, you find Nana with all of your luggage too, eagerly awaiting your arm for her to cling to before you make your way inside. The hustle and bustle of Incheon International Airport fills her with a deep sense of excitement, and honestly, who could blame her? Your girlfriend is in the midst of all these other people — travelers, tourists, adventurers — and she fits right in. It’s the most natural thing for her now, to find herself in new situations that broaden her horizons and make her feel alive. 

She yanks you to her side in line for the desk, holding her brand-new polaroid camera at a high angle. “Cheese!” she screams, not far enough from your ear, but with how happy she is, you can’t help but smile her smile too. “Our first overseas trip! This is the first time I’m leaving Seoul, let alone Korea!” 

“Okay, Nana, calm down,” you chuckle, but you know she won’t. Divert her attention instead, put her energy to good use. “Do you have your passport? Carry on? Pink notebook?”

Though you both are sure she hasn’t missed anything, Nana rummages through her bag again anyway. “Check, check, and check! How could I forget?” She takes each item to show to you, and she flips through the pink notebook once it’s in her hand.

One thing about Nana, she never lets the moment escape her anymore. Once she sets out to do something, she’ll do everything in her power to accomplish that goal. This is no different, and you love her so much for it.

After looking through the notebook, she claps it shut. She flashes you the drawing of a gray bucket on its front cover before it disappears back into her carry on, and you both are reminded that a part of who you are as a couple is just that: a notebook that predicts the future by rooting itself in the present. Sadly, a weeklong trip won’t be enough for everything on her list this time, but who’s to say you’re not coming back eventually? 

And at the end of the trip, you have it ready, the best gift you could give her: a little green notebook, every left-side page filled with things you want to do, and the corresponding right side page blank, all for her. And on the very last leaf, where the cardboard of the back cover accompanies it, is a drawing of a ring, with the words: “I’ll be taking my time, spending my life, falling deeper in love with you.”

“Come on, hurry!” She yanks again, snapping you out of your wistful thoughts. “We’re gonna miss the plane!” Nana pulls you to the gate just as the intercom announces your flight has begun boarding. “Alright, alright! Easy,” you chuckle again, and you can’t believe this is the same girl behind the gym crying her eyes out alone just last year. Funny how people change like that, but at the same time, it’s impossible to think that Nana would ever stay the same.

================================================

Thank you all for watching, it has been a long time working on it and we are really happy it is finally out, hope yall had a good read with this one,

i will see you all next time leafies~

[cybersunnie]

18+ / MDNI cock warming; f!reader (wc 992) with PATRICK ZWEIG

There was a story about the tortoise and the hare, and Patrick Zweig was the hare. 

Slow and steady wasn't exactly his style. 

He was quick and impulsive. Careless and arrogant. Annoyingly—or admirably?—persistent like the suffocating heat on a hot summer day. If you spared one glance at Patrick, you'd think he was nothing but smug. And he was well aware of all of this, too. He just never cared much about what other people thought of him, to begin with. 

But Patrick loved a challenge, and he sure liked taking his sweet time with you. Or, more accurately, he enjoyed making you squirm.

He'd have his cock stuffed inside your cunt, and tease you with lingering touches and chaste kisses until you caved in and begged him to fuck you. With Patrick, it was all fire and the wrong kind of love. But sometimes, when he felt a little nicer, he just wanted to be close to you, to become one with you, heartbeats linked and breathing the same breath.

And with how poorly he had been doing in his last few matches, he needed that semblance of human connection he had lost years ago.

The night was young, but Patrick was eager to have you. His hungry kisses left your lips raw, and his mouth traveled south and started to nip at your jaw, his nose digging into your cheek. Everything he did was to distract you. Distract you from the burning sensation you felt as his cock stretched you out.

"There you go, atta girl."

Patrick kept a firm grip on your hips, his thumbs caressing the skin there to soothe your nerves. You always got so flustered whenever you tried to take him. And that was because you felt all of him. The tuft of hair on his pubic bone, the veins on his cock. You'd whine, tell him that it was too much, that he was too big, as if your pussy wasn't made for him.

He liked it, though.

Because in the end, you looked so pretty, sitting on his fat cock. 

You heard him groan, low and guttural, and his large hands snaked up to your ribs, stopping just beneath your breasts. His touch was electrifying—everything about him was—and it sent a slight buzz through your body. And the sight of him alone wasn't helping. Patrick's wild hair and deep green eyes and that fucking smirk he never went without. But as much as you wanted to move, you couldn't. He wouldn't allow it. Not yet.

"Fuck, look at you." Patrick slid a hand further up to cup your breast, and you wondered if he could feel your pounding heart. "I could stare at you for hours."

You raised a brow. "I hope that's not the only thing you'll be doing."

"No, no," he said softly, his gaze darting over your face while he let his other hand wander, fingers tracing up your arm and leaving goosebumps in its wake. "But it's tempting."

Patrick watched you roll your eyes, and he chuckled, grasping your hips once again and squeezing. He wished he could just keep his cock inside you all night, your cunt keeping it warm and wet and snug. But you were always too fussy to stay still for long. He supposed that was his fault—he did like spoiling you, after all.

"I have an idea."

Ideas and Patrick Zweig didn't mix well. You learned that early on when you first met him. And as you looked into his eyes, seeing the playful mischief within, you knew you were in for a treat whether you liked it or not. 

He took your silence as an invitation to continue, so he leaned in, his breath hot against your ear and voice velvety, "We should do this in front of a mirror next time." 

Or maybe ideas and Patrick Zweig did mix well.

Your mind started to reel, imagination running wild. But Patrick painted the picture for you like it was something he had been thinking about for a while. 

"You'd have no choice but to look at yourself—to look at just how fucking pretty you are when you're like this," Patrick whispered, his voice beginning to get lost in the heat and longing. "I'd keep your legs spread nice and wide so that you can see how my dick looks stuffed inside your sweet pussy." You squirmed, but his grip tightened around your hips. A silent warning to stay still. "Maybe you'd finally understand why I do this to you every time."

He pulled away from your ear, a hand leaving your hip to caress your cheek, his touch soft despite his calloused palm. All you could do was stare at him with a tight chest. "I care about you, you know," he laughed as if to hide the sincerity behind his words. "I'm not just trying to get a quick fuck. I wanna take my time, stay close to you longer." 

For once, his name tasted sweet on your tongue. "Patrick."

It was a prayer disguised as a whisper, a plea for his words to be true. And he hummed, his lips brushing yours as he uttered your name back. If this was the wrong kind of love, why did it feel so right? Why did he feel so right?

You tried to swallow down your pride. "Please."

"Please, what?" Patrick asked, but he knew what you wanted. He was connected to you. Your thoughts were his, too. "C'mon, use your words, baby."

But you couldn't bring yourself to say more, to accept defeat. You pulled your lips taut.

"No? Nothing?" He tilted his head, and his signature smirk was back. "Well, let me know when you figure it out."

And while Patrick was much like the hare, he knew he needed to take it slow and steady when it came to you. You would surrender to him sooner or later. You always did.

author's note: i have very mixed feelings abt this 😄 ANYWHO i will gladly give patrick everything he needs which is a shower and a bed

UNEDITED — 05.14.2024

[morganbritton132]

You said that you did not have tiktok, so you have likely not seen it but there is this series called roll for sandwich in which this guy makes a list if ingredients (like a list of types of bread that he has, vegetables, roughage, sauces, wild magic, etc) and each option has a number, so he rolls DnD dies and randomly makes sandwiches and rates them

Very popular, it has inspired a lot of spin-offs, people love it. He always starts with “Hello DnD tiktok and beyond, welcome to roll for sandwich a series were we let fate decide our lunch” it’s great.

My point is, Eddie would definitely do something like that but with one of his many hobbies and post it on TT.

I have not seen this, but I do love the concept. I do think I might’ve seen a spin-off though because my sister sent me a video of a girl using a d20 to decide which chore she was going to do next, and I can definitely see that one being used in the Harrington/Munson household.

Every summer begins with a deep clean.

Steve shampoos all the carpet. He pressure-washes their driveway. He declutters the entire top floors of their house. Eddie, if he is a smart man, cleans his studio.

Eddie is not always a smart man.

He gets distracted, or bored, or he just doesn’t want to do it, but this year, he’s determined. He makes a list of everything he needs to do and everything that he wants to do, and then he numbers it. He even starts a live-stream to give him more incentive to stay on task, and it works for a while.

He rolls the dice and gets a 4. He changes the burnt out lightbulb in the overhead light.

He rolls the dice and gets a 17. He dusts and reorganizes their record collection.

He rolls the dice, gets a 11. He paints the sword on his latest miniature.

He rolls the dice, gets a 9. He moves the couch to get the guitar picks that have fallen under it.

He rolls a 15, takes a break, gets distracted by a box of old tour memorabilia.

The chat is not helpful with getting him back on track because they are more interested in the stack of postcards that Eddie pulled out of the box. They need more than Eddie saying that Steve kept every postcard he sent him, especially when he looked at one of them and said, “Ha! In this one, I asked him to send me some dirty pictures. If I remember correctly, he did.”

An hour later, Eddie’s like, “Maybe I should get back to cleaning.”

He rolls again, scores a 20. Eddie looks at his list and reads, “Do something you want to do.”

He thinks about it for a second and then reaches under the couch and pulls out some ancient looking walkie-talkie, “Eddie to Stevie, do you copy?”

Eddie releases the button, waits a second, and then repeats himself. He does this a few times before he gets back, “What do you want, Eddie?”

“Wanna fuck?” Eddie asks. “Over.”

There’s a long pause and then Steve says over the line, “Did you vacuum?”

Eddie, who did not do that, says, “Yep.”

“Okay,” Steve says eventually. “Come up here.”

Eddie smiles brightly and tosses the walkie back down on the couch, before taking the stairs two at a time. The room descends in silence and then you hear static from the walkie followed by Dustin’s voice saying, “If you’re going to make a booty call, use your own frequency. Over.”

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Ok I have a request.. what did Steve and reader do when they got back from camp? I always imagined he dropped her home but she turned up at his like an hour later and never went home because they couldn’t be apart. Bonus points for smut but I love your writing so much it will be brilliant whatever ❤️❤️

You’d been home for three hours — just.

Your bags still sat in the hallway, your shoes beside them and your call shirt still on, smelling like sunscreen and the forest. You’d walked into your home to be greeted with a plate of brownies on the kitchen counter, a note beside it from your mom, telling you she’d missed you and how she and your father couldn’t wait to see you when she came home from work.

It was the strangest feeling, standing in your family’s house and still feeling homesick. Maybe it was silence, the emptiness, maybe it was residual from six weeks at camp.

Maybe it was because Steve Harrington was only three streets over and it still felt too far.

You had six weeks with the boy, but only a few were you weren’t arguing, were you weren’t pretending you hated each other. It’d been four hours since you’d left him at the corner of fifth and Main, his car turning one way as you went the other, the taste of strawberry milkshake still sweet on your tongue and you’d both shared lunch at a diner out by Lowell, a feet touching under the table kinda first date.

He’d walked you to your car afterwards, both of you still grinning over the argument about who was paying. It was the first time you’d let him win, ‘cause he’d called you princess and it sounded so much nicer than it used to.

Softer, sweeter, sugar coated.

You’d waved at him in your rear view mirror before turning off for your street, smiled when Steve stuck his hand out his window and waved goodbye. And it was fine. You’d see him soon. Wouldn’t you?

It was new and it was different and sure, you’d had sex with him. You’d kissed him, been kissed by him, let him touch you all sweet and soft and god, he looked at you with so much fondness now it made your heart twinge.

But you were home and camp was over and the summer was coming to an end as well. Was that all it was? A summer fling? Something to do in the middle of the forest ‘cause the air was too hot and the arguing got too much?

You brushed brownie crumbs off of your mom’s worktops and frowned, heart rate picking up in a panic ‘cause you fucking missed Steve already and you weren’t sure if he’d go back to letting his grocery cart catch at your heel the next time you saw him in the store.

Pulling your shoes back on, you moved without thinking, on autopilot as anxiety took over. You could just go knock on his door, right? Ask him what this was, what would happen? What would change?

What has changed?

You stopped in the hall, afternoon sun streaming through the windows and making you feel too hot. It made the room glitter, sunbeams turning into rainbows that bounced across the floor and walls.

You felt queasy, your stomach weak, your throat thick.

But, before you could decide if you were leaving or not, someone rang the doorbell. It made you startle, heart racing even faster, loud enough you could hear it in your ears and it just about stopped altogether when you opened the door and saw who was standing there.

Steve.

He looked just as nervous as you, still in his staff shirt too, hair a little wild like he’d been pulling at it. He clutched his car keys in one hand, his car parked behind yours in the drive.

“Hi,” he choked out.

“Hi,” you croaked back.

You were both a mess with it. Too messy for people who’d seen each other naked, but there was no one else around to judge you both for that, not then.

“Uh, I— you, no. I mean,” Steve frowned, as if it weren’t his fault he couldn’t talk properly, as if he was terribly inconvenienced by the way his words got caught in his throat. “Fuck.”

You smiled, cheek leaning against the edge of the door, as if it could hide how pleased you were.

Steve tried again, cheeks pink. “It’s like— you know how… at camp? It was like that?” The boy was gazing at you, eyes wide and sincere. “But now we’re here and I’m like, wondering, if it’s still like that?”

There was a beat of silence as you tried to work out what he was trying to say, but despite only seconds passing, Steve seemed to grow too impatient and it was like he finally found the words.

“I miss you,” he said, one eye squinting against the sun, like he could shield himself from any rejection if he didn’t look at you directly. “Is that stupid? Is that like, so dumb?”

Your breath hitched with his declaration and when you stopped grinning, that cheek aching sort of smile, you shook your head. Steve grinned too.

“S’not dumb,” you told him, stepping out from behind the door. You wanted to take his hand, you wanted to throw yourself at him. You wanted to see if he still tasted like strawberries, if he kissed you the same here as he did in the middle of the forest. “I miss you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But maybe we’re both dumb.”

The boy barked out a laugh, nodding. Maybe he was braver than you, ‘cause he moved forward, let his fingertips catch yours just so he could touch you. He was all caramel coloured eyes as he gazed down at you from underneath his lashes, that sticky sweet kinda look that made your stomach drop.

“Wanna do something?”

You leaned in, toes touching his. “Yeah? Like what?”

As if you’d turn any suggestion down.

Steve shrugged, hand leaving yours only to travel up your arm, his palm cupping your elbow, coaxing you both into each other's spaces. It felt nice, familiar and terrifying all at once.

“Anything. Could go for a walk, the arcade. Maybe catch a movie, just— I dunno, hang out.” Steve swallowed, another bout of nervousness catching at his chest. “I like hanging out with you.”

“You asking me on second date, Harrington?” You grinned, even though you were trying to be coy about it, as if your last date didn’t just end a matter of hours ago, as if you didn’t want to throw your arms around the boy and ask if you could keep him.

Steve’s smile matched yours, cheeks rosy from more than just a summer spent outside. “Yeah, if you’d like.”

Your fingers caught the hem of his shirt, a shy touch that made Steve lose his breath, ‘cause he could feel you against the skin of his stomach, a barely there brush as you plucked at the cotton.

“I’d like that,” you agreed.

…

[georgie-weasley]

Shenanigans F.W. x Reader

Warnings: a few swear words, one mention of abducting, and I think that's it (let me know if I missed something)

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: You and Fred pair up to get George a partner and along the way you learn your feelings for Fred might not be just friendly

Masterlist

It was a rather peaceful Saturday morning. It was a nice November morning and the cool chill in the air mixing with the warmth in the castle only made it better. You were sitting by yourself at the table with a book in one hand and eating breakfast with the other. After breakfast you planned to do some more reading and if it warmed up enough, you might even read outside. All you wanted to do was relax.

“I’ve got a plan and I need your help.” As soon as the words came out of Fred’s mouth, you could sense the trouble that was bound to follow it. He squeezed his way into the spot next to you at the table. He had a wild gleam in his eye and a mischievous smirk on his face. This was gonna be a bad one but you were intrigued. Not to mention he completely threw out any plans to relax as soon as he showed up

“Do tell Fred.” You set down your fork and book and turned to face him. It was not uncommon for Fred to come to you with grand schemes. You, Fred, and George were connected at the hip since first year. People started to call you guys the triplets since there was never a time one of you was seen without the others. You spent summers and holidays with the Weasley family and you were thrilled to say that they all loved you. Molly and Arthur saw you as another daughter and they treated you as such. You got a sweater in your favorite color with your initial each Christmas, a birthday cake each year, and you were punished in the same way. If the twins were grounded for terrorizing poor Ron out of his mind, then you were too, if you were found guilty and you usually were.

“We need to get George a girlfriend.” He smiled brightly and threw an arm around your shoulder. “He’s been so sad about the breakup and the perfect thing for him would be a new relationship.” Fred wasn’t wrong about George being heartbroken but setting him up with someone because he’s hurt over a breakup? That’s dumb.

The three of you were 16 and sweet George was a romantic that wore his heart on his sleeve. He fell in love with anyone that looked him in the eyes or was remotely nice to him. Fred was a flirt but he kept real feelings away. He was more cautious and didn’t fall head over heels for just anyone. You, well there were a few people you found attractive but you never dated anyone. No one really stood out to you. George was the only one that had any sort of semi-serious relationship out of the three of you.

“How can you possibly think that this is the right way to help him move on? Your brother could sniff out a prank a mile away.” You rolled your eyes and moved his arm off of you. “Besides, George has an open heart. What if we find someone and it goes wrong and breaks his heart again? What will you do then?”

Fred only shrugged and stole some food off of your plate. “It’s not a prank, it's just… well I don’t know a different way to say it but it’s not a prank. We’re just trying to find him someone that will love him and won’t break his heart. Come on, I know you want to.”

He was right. George had been moping around for weeks and he hardly ate. He didn’t run around causing trouble and his smile never reached his eyes anymore. It was painful to see your best friend become a shell of who he usually was. While getting him a rebound didn’t seem like the best idea, you didn’t have a better one. “I’ll do it on one condition. We don’t force anyone to like him by paying them or anything.”

“Of course not. Even if I wanted to, I don't have nearly enough money to pay someone to deal with George.” Fred smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Finish breakfast and meet me at the lake. Our quest begins in an hour!” He ran off, weaving between the students making their way into the Great Hall.

An hour later, you bundled up and met Fred. It was freezing and even though you were wearing gloves and a thick coat and a scarf, you were certain you were only seconds away from turning into a nice ice sculpture. The freckled redhead waved as he caught sight of you. He was smiling and looked positively thrilled to be starting this plan with you. “Down to business,” Fred started as soon as you stood next to him. “First we need to find out if anyone likes him or if he’s anyone’s type. Then, we can start dropping hints and start finding ways to get them together. George will be happy and then at their wedding we can come forward and tell them all the hard work we did.” It sounded like a pretty solid plan but there wasn’t much to it. Usually Fred was more elaborate, almost too elaborate.

“So what are we supposed to do, just go around and ask people if they fancy George? He’s bound to hear and pick up on it.” You rubbed your shoulders and stepped closer to Fred for warmth. “Couldn’t we have talked about this somewhere inside? I think I’m gonna get frostbite if I’m out here for much longer.”

“No, you’re going to ask people if they fancy George. He’s less likely to suspect you if you ask. He might even think you like him.” Fred laughed and removed his scarf, wrapping it around your neck. “Do you fancy George? If you do then you can just date him and everything will be better.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in, poking your side.

“Absolutely not. George is a brother to me.” It was the truth. Fred was eyeing you like he thought you were lying but he didn’t say anything. You loved George but he was just never someone you saw in a romantic light. He was sweet and kind but he was a little more subdued. He was calm and reminded you of a fireplace. He was warm and comforting and made you feel safe and at home. You preferred someone louder and more outgoing. Someone that was more of a bonfire, big and full of energy and unpredictable. Someone more like Fred.

“Fine, fine, if you say so. Maybe while you’re asking around you can talk George up too. Make him sound appealing.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, tucking you into his side. “Just not too appealing. If they think you like him, no one will go for it.” If Fred wasn’t providing an incredible amount of warmth, you’d have shoved him away.

“What exactly will you be doing then? Sitting around and looking pretty?”

Fred barked out a laugh and it warmed you from within. “While I am pretty fantastic at doing that, I’m gonna start working on George and get him to a more presentable emotional state.”

“You know,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his middle, hiding your hands under his coat, “we can just let him work through his emotions at his own pace and help him in a way he wants us to.”

Fred nodded and sighed. “I know and it would probably be the better idea but I hate seeing him so sad. I just want him to be happy.” Your heart fluttered at his words. Fred was loud and always smiled but he had real emotions under his happy exterior. He wasn’t like George who could be read like a book. Fred was a secret diary kept under lock and key. It was nice to hear him openly show his love for his brother.

“We can start as soon as I let you go. I think I might have frozen myself to you.” Without a warning, Fred shifted and hooked one arm under your arms and the others behind your knees and lifted you up. With a squeal, you wrapped your arms around him and held on for dear life as he walked you back to the castle.

---

Over the next week, you tried to ask around about George but either no one liked him or no one was willing to admit they liked him. On more than one occasion, people mentioned Fred and you were surprised to feel the jealousy building in your chest. You were asking about George and they kept bringing up his twin. No wonder George felt like he was living in the shadows. That was the reason you were jealous.

Fred apparently had more luck as George was beginning to act more like himself as the days went on. He was smiling more and making jokes and it made everything worth it.

On Friday, almost a week after Fred approached you with his plan, you were walking to class after lunch. Fred caught up to you and grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side of the hallway. “Y/N, I wanted to ask how things have been.”

“Not great. No one likes him or they just aren’t telling me. I’ve tried asking anyone I think might like him and nothing. I’m sure someone likes him but I haven’t found them.” It broke your heart a little to think that no one out there found George handsome or wanted to date him. He was a total catch and he deserved someone good.

“Maybe we need a new approach.” Fred rubbed the back of his head and looked around the hallway. “What about we focus on people that are George’s type and see how they feel. Then we can narrow it down a little bit more. We can start with Angelina.”

“Angelina? From the Quidditch team? Why are we starting with her?”

“She’s smart, funny, athletic, and attractive. She’s perfect.” There was that jealousy again, burning in your chest. He really felt all those things for her?

“No way. She has very clearly expressed to me that she doesn't like you. Besides, she has a thing with some Ravenclaw boy. She doesn’t want you.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. What was so great about Angelina anyway? There were plenty of other people that were all that and more.

“This is about George, not me.” Fred smirked and grabbed your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not. I just mixed you two up. Just give me a list of people to ask and I’ll find out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” Jerking your head away from his grasp, you spun around. You didn’t even make it a step away from Fred when some first year came barreling at you, slamming into your side. You stumbled and closed your eyes, preparing for impact when strong arms grabbed you by the waist.

“Watch where you’re going you little gremlin!” Fred yelled after the first year. He steadied you on your feet, his hands resting on your hips as he looked you over for any bumps or bruises. Your eyes landed first on his arms. Has he always been this fit? Your eyes traveled up his arms until they landed on his face. His brown eyes were full of concern as they continued to trail over your body. Freckles decorated his whole face, most of them concentrated around his nose. He had one that was perfectly in the center of the tip of his nose and you found yourself wanting to kiss it. That’s a new feeling. So was catching yourself staring at his lips and finding yourself licking your own. God you would give anything to kiss him, just to see what it was like. As you looked back at his eyes, you jumped a little seeing how intently he was looking into yours. “Are you ok?” His mouth was moving and you were sure he was talking to you but he sounded like he was underwater or across the castle grounds.

The bell signaling the end of the passing period restarted your senses. You scrambled to adjust your bag and nodded. “I’m fine but I really gotta go. Get me that list later.” Without a goodbye, you ran off to class. Your heart was pounding in your chest and it wasn’t because of your run. That was all thanks to Fred. Your friendship with Fred has always been a close one and while this wasn’t the first time he’s saved you from your doom, this one felt weird. Maybe it was because you had been talking about relationships so much or maybe it was because you were 16 and had hormones. Either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

That night at dinner, Fred handed you a sheet of paper after George had left the Great Hall. There were ten names listed and you had talked to almost everyone listed. “These are all the people I know George has found attractive or would be his type. Do any of them look promising?” He sat next to you and you were disappointed that he left an appropriate amount of space between the two of you.

“Not really. I haven’t asked that sixth year Slytherin but I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested. Wait, why do you have Hermione on this list?” She was two years younger than the three of you and she was one of Ron’s best friends, even if he never said that.

“She’s pretty cute and she’s smart. I thought George would go for it. You don’t think so?” Ugh, he called another person attractive. He needed to shut up and keep his opinions to himself.

“Of course not. She’s too young. We graduate next year and then if they did date he would be heartbroken to leave her.” You rolled your eyes and continued scanning the list. “Minerva McGonagall? Fred, are you serious?”

He only shrugged and looked up at the head table where Professor McGonagall was eating dinner. “Maybe he’d like how stern she is.”

“I’m going to kill you. This list is useless. I think we should just give up and let him work through things at his own pace.” You tore up the paper; if anyone saw it they would be extremely confused and probably give it to McGonagall since Fred was dumb enough to really add her to the list.

“No, I have one more plan and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll leave it alone and let George take care of it.” Fred blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked almost embarrassed at the thought of his other plan.

“What exactly is this other plan?”

---

The next day Fred stood in the hallway wearing his brother’s sweater. The ‘G’ on his chest clearly must have been his grand plan. “This is it? You’re just going to pretend to be George?”

Fred smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I’m also going to flirt with people and try and see how they feel.” Everything was starting to feel more and more stupid as this went on. At this point, you wanted to just stop Fred and tell him to give it up but before you could, he was off talking to a group of sixth years.

You stood back and watched, your heart growing heavy as he laid on the charm. Fred was always a flirt and he knew how to make someone’s knees weak. It never bothered you until now. It was always common to see Fred flirting at least a little. It wasn’t always on purpose as sometimes he was just nice and it came off as flirty but he never cared.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Fred smiled and leaned against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you all. I would never forget such beautiful faces.”

A Hufflepuff girl giggled and blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. A Ravenclaw boy looked like he was trying not to fall for it but the small smile on his face said it all. “We’re alright. I’m going to take a wild guess that the ‘G’ on your sweater means you’re George?” The Hufflepuff asked.

“That would be me. You’ve heard of me?”

“It’s hard not to hear about you or your brother.” The Ravenclaw shrugged and looked at a Ravenclaw girl that had been standing a little behind him. “What can we do for you George?”

Fred smirked and shrugged, moving closer. “I just saw all of you standing here and I felt myself drawn in.” The Hufflepuff giggled again and seeing how she seemed the most interested, Fred threw his arm around her shoulders. “What are a bunch of pretty people like yourselves doing on this fine day?”

The Hufflepuff, you think her name might have been Christine, glanced over at Fred. “Nothing really. I have a question, is this your real hair?” She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair.

That was a knife right to the heart. Tears started to well up in your eyes and your stomach dropped to your feet. You knew he was just pretending and all he wanted to do was help George but it was all too much. You turned around and sprinted down the hallway. Fred saw you out of the corner of his eye and called after you, ignoring the group to chase you.

You could hear him calling your name and begging you to stop but you couldn’t. How could you face him like this? Here you were breaking down all because he was flirting with some random kids. This was all so stupid. He was your best friend and that was it. He was your funny, stupid, handsome best friend that always got himself into trouble. He was loud and obnoxious and never knew when to quit but he was also so caring and protective and wonderful. He kept you safe and made you smile and made your heart flutter every time he smiled. His laugh warmed you from the inside and the sparkle in his eyes made your brain turn to mush. He was everything you ever wanted.

You were still running with no clue where you were headed when Fred finally caught up and grabbed your arm, effectively stopping your escape. Fred spoke up as soon as his breathing returned to normal. “Y/N, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You ran off crying and you’re trying to tell me nothing is wrong? Do you think I’m stupid? Tell me what’s wrong.” He took his hand off you and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nothing happened Fred so just stop asking.” You turned away from him and rubbed your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop flowing. This was all so stupid.

Fred grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you to face him. “Please, tell me. I’m your best friend. What’s wrong?”

Best friend. He was your best friend and that was the problem. He made your stomach twist up in knots and your hands sweaty and your heart race and he was your best friend. It wasn’t like you could even lie to yourself and say you just had a thing for gingers; you never felt this way around George or Ron or any other Weasley, just Fred. You were in love with your best friend. This could ruin everything. Your breathing sped up and your hands started to shake. You had to get out of here.

“I’m done helping you Fred. I can’t do this anymore.” You slowly stepped back and tried to ignore your heart breaking as you looked at his face. Fred was frowning and he looked absolutely devastated by your words. He reached out for you and with great effort, you shook your head and took another step back. “Just, leave me alone.” With that, you ran away.

---

It was absolute torture to avoid Fred and George but you managed to do so for a couple days. George had done nothing wrong but you couldn’t risk anything. He could be helping Fred or he could be Fred. It was truly horrible to watch Fred try and get close to you. He would slip you notes in class and you threw them away immediately. He tried to catch you in the halls but you would push your way through crowds and lose him. He even tried to sit next to you at meals but everytime he did, you left. This was the best thing you could do. Now that you admitted your feelings toward Fred to yourself, there was no way things could go back to normal. You couldn’t pretend there were no feelings and while you couldn’t stand being away from him, this was the only thing preserving even a small part of your friendship. It was destroying a fair part of it but maybe this way you could still remain acquaintances and see the family. Losing Fred was horrible enough but the thought of losing the whole Weasley family, you couldn’t stand it.

After lunch on Sunday, you headed off to the owlery to send a letter home. You weren’t telling anyone about what was happening but you needed to inform your parents that you likely would not be spending the next break at the Burrow. Halfway there, a hand lunged out from behind a tree and grabbed you, pulling you over. Another hand covered your mouth. What was happening? Thinking fast, you bit the hand covering your mouth.

“Ow! Holy shit! What the hell Y/N?” You spun to see Fred waving his hand around, a bright red mark on his palm where you bit him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You just tried to abduct me!” You smacked him in the chest and glared but it soon faded as you began laughing. Fred lightly pushed your shoulder and joined in the laughter. God it felt so nice to laugh with him again. After a moment, the laughter faded and your face was serious once more. “What do you want, Fred?”

He swallowed thickly and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. He chewed on his bottom lip, debating what to say. He was nervous. Fred always bit his lip when he was nervous. “I wanted to talk to you. It's been a couple days of you ignoring me. What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you taking it out on me?”

“Because it’s your fault.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open. “So I did nothing wrong but this is my fault? What kind of bullshit is that?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not bullshit, ok? It’s just the truth.” You tried to take a step back, hoping to get out of this situation but you bumped into the tree.

He threw his hands in the air. “Then tell me what I did!”

“God Fred, don't you get it? I love you! I think I’ve been in love with you since I was 13 and it’s killing me because I just noticed it! I thought it was perfectly normal to think about how handsome your best friend is or how much you want to kiss them! I am madly in love with you and I was trying to save our friendship by putting some distance between us because I can't go on like this. I can’t look at you and want to kiss you and just pretend that I don’t. I can’t watch you flirt with other people and pretend like my heart isn’t being shattered every time. I can’t do it Fred. I can’t let my feelings for you ruin my friendship with you or George or Ron or Ginny or anyone else. I would rather have you not at all than watch you fall in love with someone else! I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything but I—”

Fred surged forward and grabbed your face in his hands as he slammed his lips to yours. You stood in complete shock before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours and you moved closer, pressing your body to his. Fred slid his hands to your hips and pushed you against the tree. You both parted for air but he didn’t go far; he kept his forehead pressed to yours. “You talk way too much.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t dare move. “You don’t hate me?”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I was 12. Of course I don’t hate you.” Fred smiled and ran his thumb over your cheek. “What made you realize you like me?”

You blushed and groaned. “This is going to inflate your ego so much but when you were flirting with that Hufflepuff pretending to be George.” Fred only laughed and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“You know, I must say I’m a little disappointed we never got George a girlfriend but I’m pretty happy with this outcome.”

“Just happy?”

“Would ecstatic be a better word?” Fred mumbled, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered as your lips met again.

[popjunkie42]

The Thief and the Rake

Summary:

“Elain, none of us have a dowry. And the Archeron name, if anyone even remembers it, isn’t about to inspire anyone. You either have to find someone so rich they wouldn’t even concern themselves with a dowry, or someone with money who needs a gentleman’s name to get into society.”   Elain was quiet for a moment. “Or we could marry for love. Someone wouldn’t need a dowry for that.”   The fire crackled in the silence.   “Yes.” Nesta said, clipped. “Or for love.”   Forgotten by all good society, the Archerons receive a surprise invitation from a distant relative that gives the sisters a chance for one single season in London. One single season to lie, preen and attract a rich enough suitor to marry Miss Elain and pull them out of poverty for good. It's a lucky thing Feyre Archeron has perfected the skills of lifting the burden of extra wealth from those too laden to notice a few coins skimmed off the top. Unfortunately for her, the Viscount Rhysand Sterling catches her in the act...and then insists on hiring her for her services. Can the Archeron sisters make it through a London season alive and with their reputations intact?

The Thief and the Rake - Chapter One on AO3

Rated E

Thank you to @witch-and-her-witcher and @wilde-knight for beta-ing and supporting me always!!!

A snippet under the cut!

The winter wood was still and quiet. Mist and fog parted in the wake of Feyre Archeron’s footsteps as she stepped with sly feet around roots and rocks, flexing her fingers to stay warm.

The sun had just started to rise, watery and pale. Feyre knew it wouldn’t be enough to cut into the chill that had already seeped into her bones. And that nothing but a small fire in the kitchen would be waiting for her on her return. 

This winter had been especially wet. The deer were bedding down in secret corners, their scents and steps muffled by the wet leaves carpeting the forest floor. Hiding from her arrows and her empty table.

Feyre had already paid a visit to two local manors that were left empty by the wintering gentry families, scraping what she could from larders and unlocked rooms that wouldn’t be easily noticed. 

But last of the deer jerky had run out yesterday, and she had black tea and a hard tack biscuit for breakfast that hadn’t even satiated her long enough to get out the door without hunger pangs. 

If she didn’t find something today - well. No use thinking on it now, miles deep into a sparse winter forest. Feyre knew better than to let her desperate thoughts wander when she was all alone, and needed to focus. 

A whisper. Mist swirled out of the corner of her eye.

Feyre inhaled as she twisted, an arrow quickly in her hand and nocked to the string of her bow. Quick enough to see a fluffy brown-red tail disappear through the trees and over a small hill. 

The fox trotted away from her and she followed, hiding behind trees as she went, careful to step onto the soft wet leaves littering the forest floor. 

He was a handsome creature, his coat dark sable flecked with the old warm red of summer. 

It was a shame to take him, she thought as he rose above the fog line onto a moss-covered rock, surveying the land in front of him with his nose tilted up to the wind. There wasn’t ever much meat on them, not that she could be picky. But his pelt would fetch something small at market. Enough to risk an arrow. 

At least she and her family would have one more meal, enough to buy a few hours, a day to keep her going to the next fox, or rabbit, or God willing a deer…

Feyre nocked her arrow and pulled back the bowstring across her hollow cheek.

The crack of a twig to her left had the fox curling into fog and mist, and Feyre whirled around, heart racing, bow still nocked to fire.

”Lu!”

Lucien Vanserra’s eye went wide and his hands shot up as he stared down the length of her arrow. His familiar face, one russet eye, one scarred and covered in a small woven patch. Feyre didn’t move an inch. 

Slowly, a mischievous grin spread over his face.

She huffed and put down her bow.

”You just cost me lunch and ten shillings for a fox hide. I hope you’re ready to pay up.”

Unlike Feyre, her friend was dressed for the weather, a well-cut wool coat in hunter green hugging his form and skimming down to his knees, with heavy weather-stained boots coming to meet them. He had a low brown felt top hat that complimented his glistening auburn hair. 

Lucien looked made for the forest, and if she didn’t know him she’d think he was a sprite come to lead her to some sort of mystical adventure. With his vibrant red hair pulled back into a low plait, and his golden skin radiating warmth in between the barren branches, he seemed a creature from her old maid’s tales.

He pulled a basket from behind him, offering it to her with a flourish. “Aunt Susan and the cousins left for a few weeks to visit Uncle Tomas in Bath. I think I can do you all better than ten shillings and invite you to dinner.”

As if on queue, her stomach rumbled. Feyre tried and failed to keep the small smile from her face.

“Got anything for breakfast first?”

• —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • 

Read the rest on AO3

Comment or message if you want to be added to the tag list!

tag list:

@damedechance @rosanna-writer @fantasticalnonsense18 @dreamlandreader @captain-of-the-gwynriel-ship @annaskareninas @foundress0fnothing

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Curtis and Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week One: Dried Leaves or Lots of Candles

Summary- 1.2k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis spoils you after a long day at school.

Warnings- Reader uses past coping mechanisms from when she was dating her ex.

THIS IS AN 18+ Only Blog

A/N- Happy Autumn Season! Thank you all for helping make this possible with all the shares and votes on the poll. If you enjoyed, please comment and give a share. Remember every Friday I will be posting a poll to help decide which fall-themed story gets posted next, a This or That. All the love!

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

“I’m sure the store thought I was crazy.” Curtis muttered into the phone while Tanya on the other end scoffed. 

“I’m sure your romantic gesture just wooed half the ladies in that store while you were purchasing every candle in the place.” 

Curtis wrestled his door open while having the phone tucked in his shoulder, several bags in his hold were groaning at how heavy they were, threatening to burst if he didn’t hurry up getting them set down. “Maybe the guy who checked me out thought so? He also questioned if I was impressing someone or doing a satanic ritual. ” Curtis glanced around to see the house was empty, short of Binx who meowed at him from one of the kitchen stools, blinking at him lazily like Curtis was disturbing him. The black cat purred when Curtis set his multiple bags down to run a hand over his ear and gave a scritch along his jawline.

Tanya laughed hard into the phone. “What did you say?” 

“Told him it wasn’t his business and handed him the cash. Let him wonder what the fuck I’m up to.” Curtis shut the door with a bump of his foot. 

“Well yes, now everyone working at that store really will think you're crazy.” 

“As if I care. Alright, I gotta go, Honey is gonna be here soon and I still need to clean up a bit.” 

“Okay, she is going to love it Curtis, see you in the office Monday.” 

“Yup, bye.” He hung up the phone quickly to slip it into his pocket. Upstairs he had a lot to do and not a lot of time to get it done. 

The week seemed to never end and honestly, your nerves and tolerance for anything was at the end. The kids had been wild, and restless after their summer away. Getting them back on track with the nice weather outside and stuffy classroom inside was proving to be a challenge. Not to mention the constant reminders from the school board that they were underfunded, understaffed, and expected to give more with limited supplies. You had already dipped into your banking account to get what your room minimally deserved and to have to be told that you were expected to do better was like a physical jab. 

You were just ready to tell all of them to fuck off. 

But now it was the weekend, for a few hours at least you could unwind and maybe forget the school's issues. You had the newest Katee Roberts book on your kindle and you were sure that after Curtis’s week as well, the two of you weren’t going anywhere but the living room couch to decompress. 

It was really all you could hope for and wanted at this point. Going up the steps, you started to mentally discuss with Curtis how a night in was all you could handle for today at least. 

It was easier to expect every scenario with him, be prepared for anything, because people could be unpredictable. Jake taught you that early in the relationship. His reactions could be wildly out of control, often getting mad and upset when you didn’t want to go along with whatever he wanted to do. 

Those times you would stand your ground with him, you had to be ready for kind of accusation thrown your way. 

And old habits die hard still. 

So now you were mentally thinking about Curtis getting angry at your suggestion, that he wanted to go out, hang with you and his friends, and how you would respond. The door swung open to a dim house. “Curtis?” You called out as you set your school bag on the floor to shrug out of your jacket. 

He popped around the corner from the livingroom, his gaze swiftly going up and down you while you pulled your shoes off. “Hey Honey, how was your day? It sounded rough from your message this afternoon.” Reaching you, he grasped your coat from you to hang it up. 

“Still long, didn’t really get any better. Um, did you want me to go out tonight with you?” 

Curtis paused from hanging up your jacket, seeming to try to find how he wanted to answer your question. “I mean… Did you want to Honey? I was planning on staying home, I already called Paulie and told him I wasn’t tending the bar tonight.” 

“Actually that's perfect for me too. I just want to stay here, crash on the couch and unwind. You know, forget this week in the laziest way possible.” 

Curtis nodded as he listened, holding out his hand to you and when you took it, stepping into him, he hugged you loosely, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “I might have something that would work for you Honey.” 

“I don’t know how it can be any better than crashing on the couch though?” You questioned with an arch of your brows and Curtis pressed a kiss to your forehead, tugging you with him. 

“Come upstairs with me and I will show you?” He easily eased you towards the stairs, pausing to let you decide if you wanted to follow.

“I’m always up for your show and tells.” You continued up the stairs, catching his huff of a laugh at your lame school term. When you two reached the upper hallway and to the master bedroom, you caught sight of all the candles, glimmering to fill the dark bedroom in the softest of light. “Oh…” You sighed softly in appreciation at it all. 

“Mmh, I thought maybe…” Curtis eased open the bathroom door to show even more glowing candles around the tub, your favorite bubbles and a glass of wine sitting on the sinks edge, a book resting on the closed toilet seat. “This would help you feel better after this past week.” 

It was hard not to be moved by the gift he gave you, the offering of relaxation among hot bubble bath and flickering candles making an atmosphere that you just wanted to get lost in. “This is wonderful Curtis.” You turned in his hold to look up at him, pressing kisses to his jawline and hugging around him. “But that tub isn’t big enough for us both.” You frowned a bit, your forehead wrinkling at him having to miss out on enjoying this relaxation with you. 

“Yeah, one day I plan on fixing that.” He rubbed at your back. “But how about you go ahead and soak, I can read to you?” He plucked up the book he brought in.

You really didn’t know how to react the gesture, immediately going to say he did enough already, he shook his head at you to silence you. “I’m offering Honey because I want to do this with you, not because I feel like I have to.”

All you could do was smile up at him. “I would really appreciate that.” You eased from his hold, breathing in a deep calming breath to let all your earlier worries start to drift away. Curtis let his hands slide down your sides to grasp your shirt. “Thank you for taking care of me Curtis, for loving me.” 

“You make it easy to do Honey.” Was his response as you lifted your arms and he eased your shirt off you to land back into the bedroom beyond.

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Everlong: Vampire!Elliott x Reader

You only noticed it recently.

Standing in the middle of the fence bordering the barns and coops, your eyes gazed over the animals lazily lounging around in the summer sun. Numbers rattled off in your head as you tried to count them the best that you could, stopping when you were sure you’d counted them all only to scoff and start over. Maybe you were double counting? Maybe you were messing up since they were all padding around the packed dirt and grassy fields you tended to? You instead counted heads instead of groups of feet and hooves. Your count kept showing that your barn animals were all present, but your coop animals were missing a few tails. A few cottontails, to be exact.

Entering the two coops, you dug through the nesting hay and searched in all of the nooks and crannies you could find, only to come up without the two rabbits you were missing.

Worry bubbled in your gut, suddenly afraid that maybe something had gotten into coop at night. A fox? A wolf maybe? You’ve heard howling every now and again in the woods, but you’ve never seen them before. If it had been a predator, you were sure that the coops would’ve been trashed, both birds and rabbits completely missing rather than just two of your older rabbits.

Maybe they had gotten out? It seemed odd, but you couldn’t push past the idea. Scanning the fences for any sign of the bunnies digging, you worried your bottom lip. You’ve seen the wild rabbits around plenty of times, so you knew they would at least have some company in the shrubbery around town. You just hoped they would come hopping back soon, especially before winter came. In your search, you had accidentally brushed your fingers against a sharp piece of wood jutting out from the fence, knicking at your fingertip and drew a bit of blood.

You decided to finally settle this, lay it to rest as the sun started to beat down on you. You wafted the loose collar of your shirt to fan the sweat beading at your face. It was too hot for you to be out here worrying. You waved your hand a bit, the pain quickly throbbed before dulling as you pat the little bit of blood on your spare rag.

You trekked back to your farmhouse, hoping to spy your husband standing on the porch like he has done multiple times. He always stood there with a glass of something cold for you to drink and a beaming smile waiting to tell you about all of the progress he’s made with his writing. But as you walked up the cobbled path you laid down by hand, you slowed your pace when you realized Elliott wasn’t there.

Come to think of it, Elliott hadn’t really been around much.

Your stomach churned even more with worry as you stepped up onto the porch and entered your home. Sighing as the air-conditioned living room greeted you with open arms, you shucked off your boots and padded towards the bedroom in search of your husband. You fell asleep before he had gotten into bed and woke with him still fast asleep beside you. You weren’t sure if it was because of the drawn curtains, but you remember having to look at him a little longer as he seemed to be paler. You hoped he wasn’t getting sick.

You peered into the bedroom, expecting to see your husband in bed still if he really was sick only to see the sheets had been neatly made, the blankets had been cold for hours.

You next peered into his study, the cutout room that connected to your bedroom you both had converted so Elliott could have a little space all to his own. The cabin on the beach was still his, you just felt bad that he would have to trek there if he wanted some alone time or to write in peace, so you fixed up the room just for him. But the wallpaper and wood both seemed dim when you opened the door. The books stacked on the desk were all opened, scribbles written all over in dark ink, the papers he had been writing on for his next novel had been left nearly bare long enough for dust to start to form on the parchment. How long had he not been writing?

Something had to be wrong.

Something had to be wrong and you felt horrible for not noticing it sooner. You had been busy all spring helping Gunther with the museum and collecting all of this wood and stone to help Robin with some projects for the town that you had failed to notice your husband was going through a depressive slump.

You jumped a bit in your skin when you heard lithe footsteps start to come down the stairs. You hurried into the living room just as Elliott had finished his descent. He was suddenly startled out of his thoughts, almost as though he wasn’t expecting you to be home. He looked sickly, like he was developing a pretty bad flu, and he looked as though he had lost a bit of weight.

But just the way he looked at you made your heart ache like someone had stabbed you with a burning hot knife.

It was some terrible concoction of dread and annoyance and maybe even disgust. It felt as though he was looking at you like you were all of a sudden the bane of his existence. It was like you were a stranger in his house. Like you were prey that stupidly walked into the lair of the predator.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in attention. You instead swallowed the lump that was slowly forming in your throat and made eye contact with your husband.

“Are you feeling okay, El?” you questioned firmly, afraid of your voice wobbling.

He took his time to answer you, almost as though he was debating on what to say, whether to tell you the truth or lie to not hurt your feelings. Either way, it was going to sting.

“Why do you ask?”

His voice was a little hoarse and scratchy, like he hadn’t drank water in a few days or he had been hacking up a lung just seconds ago. You narrowed your eyes a bit. It was still your Elliott, that’s for sure; Answering a question he didn’t exactly want to answer right away with a question of his own. At least you now knew he wasn’t an alien replacement. He started to make his way past you, probably to lock himself in his study to be alone for awhile.

“You don’t look so good. I can call Harvey, see if he can make a house call-”

“No,” he cut you off with a pointed glare.

He started to walk past you. You swore you heard him mutter something under his breath along the lines of ‘He can’t do anything.’ He suddenly stopped in his tracks, shoulders squaring as he stood up straight like he had been shocked to life. He barely moved his head just enough to glance over his shoulder at you, a look of what seemed to be… fear was painted on his face.

“Are you- Are you bleeding, (Y/n)?” his voice was soft.

You turned your hand over, glancing down at the finger you had just cut by accident not even ten minutes ago. It had already clotted with a dark crust, but you could still feel a little bit of pain radiating from it, throbbing down the length of your finger until it buzzed numbly in your palm.

“Yeah- I caught it on sharp splinter when I was checking the animals.” You suddenly perked up. “Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to know where two of the rabbits are, do you? They’re missing from the coop.”

The look of dread worsened on his face when you asked him that one little question. You saw him eyeing the small cut on your finger like you had the plague. He rubbed at his jaw and mouth and avoided your gaze.

“No- No I-,” Elliott’s words died in his throat.

He suddenly started walking away from you. It was a shock, annoyance bubbling in your veins at his avoidance of your questions. You followed him back into your bedroom before he quickly entered the bathroom. The bathroom door slammed shut, echoing through the house. It startled your cat who was lazily following behind you, the poor thing scurrying off into another room.

“Elliott,” you called, not ready for this to be over. He didn’t answer, but you heard the door lock shut. You didn’t know if you were more pissed off or worried by his behavior. You stepped up to the door, fist ready to knock only for your blood to suddenly cool. You pressed your hand flat against the hardwood door and sighed. “Elliott, tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

Little did you know that on the other side of the bathroom door, Elliott was standing there with his hands pressed against the wall on either side of the doot. His forehead pressed into the wood as he nosed the crack of the door.

He could smell you.

He could smell every bit of you and it made his shoulders and hands quake.

He can smell the salt of your sweat drenching the collar of your shirt, the fresh dirt that clung to the cuffs of your pants.

Your blood coursing through your veins.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly drier than the Calico Desert as he ground his teeth. He felt soft pricks against his bottom lip, eyes wincing as his fangs ghosted against the door.

He can’t lose control.

His hands clenched into tight fists, veins bulging in his forearms as fought tooth and nail to keep his sanity from slipping. His body washed over in a gleam of cold sweat. His heart was barely beating, his body felt frigid and boiling at the same time. He’s never been so hungry before, one bite couldn’t hurt-

No.

Elliott yanked himself away from the door, turning away and catching himself on the vanity sink. He gripped the marble edges so hard he almost cracked the stone. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror; He could never get used to seeing himself like that in any reflection. His pallid skin replaced his hearty tan, the veins seemingly painted on his skin, the deep ruby eyes that overtook his emerald hues. Just the way his clothes seemed to droop from his lithe form weakening and the strands of auburn that slipped from its tie, he looked like a disheveled monster, the fangs glistening in his mouth were just the cake topper.

‘When were you going to tell your lover what you really are?’ his subconscious cooed in his ear.

He should’ve told you years ago when you both were still flirting with each other- No. He should have never gotten with you in the first place. He’s heard all of the horror stories that came when a vampire tried to romance a human, they all never ended well. Why did he think this would be different? And now, here he was, trapped in the bathroom that seemed to slowly close in on him as the regrets started piling up left and right.

It was getting to be too much.

His mind was racing and he was just so hungry.

You knocked softly, but in his head, it felt like you were smacking the door with a frying pan. His temples throbbed, his eyes burned, his mouth ached. He could practically taste how sweet your blood would be on his tongue, and that cut on your finger wasn’t doing him any justice.

“Elliott? Can you let me in?” Your voice was so pained. It hurt him listening to you be so worried about him when you should be terrified. You should be terrified of what he’s hidden from you for years. You should be terrified of what he did to those poor rabbits. You should be terrified about what’s in your bathroom right now. “Please?”

He could feel his sanity pull taut and thin like a piece of fragile thread.

And it snapped.

[wheels-of-despair]

@oneforthemunny's Summertime Writing Game The Title: Bad Apples The Eddie: Janitor!Eddie (and a lot of Oliver) The Prompt: 🃏 Wild Card The Summary, Since I Went Off-Script: Someone called your sweet little Oliver a "bad apple" so now you're gonna have to make a point. A sweet, delicious point. The Words: 2k Author's Note: Oliver's pretty quiet in this. It's his first summer with Teach and Janitor!Eddie, he's still getting used to them.

"Are our apples bad?"

You looked to Oliver and then to the bowl of fruit on the counter in confusion. You'd only just walked in; could he smell a rotten apple already? Has pollen season officially claimed your nose as a victim? You step closer and pick up an apple to inspect it.

"I mean, they might be a few days past their prime, but I don't think they're bad. Why do you ask?"

He shrugs. "I'm gonna go read," he mumbles and goes to his room, closing the door quietly. You pick up another apple and give it a sniff. Nothing. You turn over each apple in the bowl, looking for any sign of rot. Not even a bruise. What the heck?

And then the phone rings, and the art teacher ranting about the incompetent music teacher who better not come back next year makes you forget about the apple problem.

She keeps you occupied for the next hour with a conversation that couldn't be had on school grounds - even a nearly childless one, since you were just there today cleaning out your classrooms - and then you start fixing dinner. Oliver usually wanders in when he starts smelling food, but today, he stays put. A little odd, but maybe he's just tired. He'd spent most of the afternoon on the playground with other newly-freed kids who either belonged to fellow teachers, or been so conditioned to school that they'd gravitated toward it even now that summer had officially started. You decide not to bother him; he knows he can hang out with you whenever he feels like it.

When Eddie comes home, he greets you with a kiss and asks what's for dinner. You inform him of tonight's menu - one of his favorites, to celebrate the end of the school year - and his face lights up.

"Where's the little guy?" he asks, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms, looking gorgeous doing it.

"In his room. He's quiet today."

"Any idea why?"

You shrug. "Go check, maybe you'll have better luck."

"Kay," he pushes off the counter, give you another peck, and goes to check on Oliver.

You hear a knock and then muffled voices. Can't escape the boys' club, even in your own house, you think as you clear the table.

You call when dinner is ready, and the boys enter the kitchen together. You notice that Oliver has changed his clothes at some point, but don't question it. He's a big boy, he can decide what he wears and when.

Oliver is still quiet during dinner. He'll speak when he's spoken to, but doesn't volunteer any information about his day or chime in like he usually does. You're growing more curious by the minute, but you don't get any answers until Oliver is safely tucked in.

"Alright, spill," you order, the second your bedroom door closes.

"Spill what?" Eddie asks.

"What's up with Oliver?"

Eddie heaves a sigh and comes to sit next to you on the bed.

"Somebody called him a bad apple."

"What." Not a question. You're seething already.

"Some kid on the playground asked another one if he smelled something funny, they went back and forth like a bad comedy routine, punchline was that there must be a bad apple around."

"Who was it?"

"He didn't say."

"Well those little brats better hope I don't find out." Eddie gives you an affectionate smile for your over-protectiveness.

"He's alright. He thought they meant he smelled bad."

You roll your eyes so intensely, your whole body flops back on the bed in frustration. Eddie joins you, less dramatically.

"I explained it to him… but I wish I didn't have to."

"What is wrong with these damn kids, Eddie?"

"They're being raised by the people who did the same shit to me."

You reach for his hand, fumbling for a moment before he realizes what you're doing and helps you out.

You stare at the ceiling and sigh together, breathing out all of today's frustrations.

"What are we going to do?" you ask, helplessly.

"Keep taking care of him. Hope he values our opinions more than theirs."

You turn your head toward him, and he turns his toward you. It's a comfort, knowing that Eddie understands exactly what Oliver's going through and how to take care of it, but it's also infuriating that this cycle never ends. Kids are doing the same shit now that their parents did twenty years ago, and probably their parents before them. What's the point of even trying to teach them better?

You eventually get up, dress for bed, and turn in for the night.

It's not until the next morning that you have a brainstorm.

Oliver wanders into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, when he smells the bacon and eggs. He smiles when you tell him good morning. That's a good sign, at least. You fix plates, Eddie pours drinks, and you have a nice breakfast together.

"What are you two gonna get into this morning?" Eddie asks.

"I thought we might drop by the grocery store, pick up some summer necessities and a few things for Steve's tomorrow."

Eddie's mission today is to help Steve assemble a pool. Not the fancy, heated, in-ground kind his parents had; but a modest above-ground pool just for the summer. It would probably take the rest of the night to fill; Team Munson had been invited to a soft open tomorrow, just a quiet get-together for the boys to pat themselves on the back for following instructions and sticking a hose in the four-foot pool.

After breakfast is eaten and the dishes are in the sink, Eddie takes off and Oliver goes to get dressed for today's shopping trip.

Oliver is a great shopping companion; he's great at pointing out sales you may have missed, and never tries to deviate from the list. (Eddie's a bit of an impulse shopper. Oliver is the list when he accompanies Eddie on an emergency grocery run.)

In the store, you grab a few staples that need replenishing, and then head for the produce section. You visit the discount rack, and find exactly what you're looking for. Thank you, Bradley's Big Buy. You lift a sack of apples with a fast-approaching sell-by date, and spin them around for a quick inspection.

"Aren't they bad?" Oliver whispers.

"They look fine to me," you answer, placing them in your cart. They're a little bruised, and probably mealy, but there's no obvious rot. You grab a few decent-looking lemons off the discount rack too.

You check out, carry your bags to the car, and talk about what you're gonna do this summer all the way home. When you get there, you hand Oliver one light bag and the keys, and he rushes ahead to open the door for you with your armful of groceries.

"Thank you, my good man," you say affectionately as you pass, heading straight for the counter and depositing your bags. Oliver closes the door and follows with his own, sliding it onto the counter. You pull out your bag of apples, and he side-eyes them.

"I thought we might have a pie tonight, what do you think?"

He shrugs.

"You want to wash these for me?" you ask hopefully. He shrugs again, and you smile at him. You open the bag of apples and take them to the sink, and Oliver follows. You turn the water on and demonstrate how to rinse them and then put them in the dish drainer, and Oliver pulls up his little step-stool picks it up in no time.

Oliver washes, and you begin peeling the clean apples by his side, dropping the peelings and the slices into two different bowls.

"You know, when I first met Eddie, he used to bring me an apple every day."

"He did?"

"Yup. Mr. Harrington told him that the saying is 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away', but he kept bringing them for the teacher anyway. I thought it was cute."

Oliver smiles and finishes washing the last apple, reaching forward to turn the sink off.

"You wanna help make the pies, or go play?"

"I'll help," he responds.

"I was hoping you'd say that," you wink. "Fetch me two of the glass pie plates from the bottom cabinet?"

Oliver hops off his stool and starts digging, emerging with a clink of glass and a triumphant "Aha!"

By the time he returns to your side with the pie plates, the apples are peeled and sliced and you're ready to unroll the pie crusts that have been sitting on the counter since you got home. You wipe off the glass with a dish towel and place them on the counter side by side.

"Some people think this is cheating," you explain, fitting the crust into the plate, "but I think it's one of the greatest modern inventions. You know in the old days, people spent hours measuring and mixing and blending and rolling just to make a mediocre pie crust? These taste great, they save us time, and thanks to someone's sharp eyes, we even saved $1!"

Oliver grins and watches you add sugar and spices to the bowl of apple slices. After everything is mixed and coated, with Oliver's help of course, you offer him a piece. He shakes his head, so you shrug and pop it in your own mouth. You'd been a little worried, but the apple tastes fine, and honestly… you could load just about anything with sugar and your boys would love it.

After the pies are assembled and in the oven, you and Oliver turn your discounted lemons into a pitcher of lemonade to take to Steve's. After a few taste tests and minor adjustments, you and your assistant determine that it's perfect, and you put it in the fridge to chill.

You play cards at the kitchen table until the oven timer dings. And then you pull out two gorgeous pies and set them on the counter to cool. Oliver inhales deeply from his place at the table, and you try to conceal a grin. You play another few hands while you wait for them to stop steaming, then decide to go for it.

"What do you think, should we sample it before Eddie gets home? Make sure it's okay?"

Oliver taps his chin as if he's thinking, and then grins.

"That's what I thought," you laugh, getting up to cut two test slices. You bring them back to the table, wondering when Oliver is going to bring up bad apples again. The intoxicating smell seems to have banished the thought from his mind, because he reaches for his fork and takes a bite as soon as you set the saucer down.

"Is it good?" you ask, before cutting into your own slice. Oliver nods enthusiastically as he chews.

"Still think the apples are bad?" His face falls, and he looks at the pie warily, remembering that it was made with subpar produce.

"You know, I think apples are a lot like people," you say gently, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. "Sometimes the ones that look pretty and shiny on the outside are rotten inside. And sometimes the ones that look a little different are the sweetest. Even the ones that are imperfect, or bruised, or have been banished to the discount rack at Bradley's Big Buy can surprise you... they just need a little love. And a lot of sugar." You go in for a second bite. "Oh yeah, nothin' wrong with these. Perfection. What do you think?"

Oliver stares at you for a moment, letting the speech you've been planning all morning sink in, and then a smile grows on his face. He nods and goes in for another bite. This kid is amazing.

About halfway through your pie, you hear a car door slam. A moment later, Eddie steps inside and inhales dramatically. "Is this Heaven? Is that where I am? Is that what this smell is?"

Oliver laughs and says, "we made pies!"

"You made pies?"

"Yup!" Oliver chirps.

"Apple pies?"

"Yup!" Oliver repeats.

"Multiple apple pies?"

"Yup!" you confirm, getting up to cut him a slice. "One for us, one to take to Steve's tomorrow."

"Yup. Heaven. This is Heaven."

"Come on, angel, have a slice," you place his pie on the table, and he looks at it with hunger… and then pulls you in for a kiss.

There's nothing bad about these apples.

[jmdbjk]

This week's ... Bangtan report...

Anyone feel the need to come up for air? Me too...

These two... just acting like they can go anywhere here in peace.

I can't believe they ate reheated grocery store deli pizza. At first I was like I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ATE GAS STATION CONVENIENCE STORE PIZZA but then I learned it was a whole grocery store. On a scale of 1 to 10, grocery store deli pizza would be a 4.

I'm still speechless. The longer I think about it the more I can't believe what we've seen these past 4 days. After all this time of hoping they are living easily at home they come over here and turn the bucket over on us. Total chaos.

Aside from boat captains being dickwads (that Miss Karma wasted no time on that loser) and radio show hosts being embarrassing ignoramuses... the LUCKIEST regular people are experiencing encounters with JIMIN and JUNGKOOK in the WILD!!

We all know how excited we get just meeting other Armys in the wild but imagine being at work trying to get the soft serve ice cream machine working and you turn around and Jimin and Jungkook are standing there ready to order some greasy-ass pizza.

I'M SO HAPPY FOR THESE ARMYS WHO GOT TO EXPERIENCE THIS!

But we're still trying to decipher JK's similarities in his Seven concept styling. His hair that's reminiscent of Jimin's in his Face era... The both of them wearing a lot of similar things or even just their street clothes that are from the same designer... all of that making me ...

This trip that looks like all intents and purposes of being a weekend getaway... reserving a whole floor of the restaurant. AND TOGETHER ON SILVER DAY.... Going to a brewery. An outing on a boat. Basically roaming the back roads in New England. And JK headed to Old England.

But we might see it at some point in the future BECAUSE THEY HAD CAMERAS????

They spent all day Sunday .... doing what? Every hour, every minute, every second, you know night after night ...

Anyway...

Hobi's master plan is being revealed finally. At least that's what the twitter streets are saying. Those images were created last summer. He's had this in the works.

I love love love the two characters and the styling of this go-round of Jack in the Box.

I watched Namjoon's recent live and he said things like:

..."everyone is doing their thing and the team is being talked about" which he thinks is great... "let's each do well in our places and meet again looking good." All team members doing good.

He always looks great in his lives and now I'm convinced JK's got a potato phone with a crap camera because ALL of his lives are 360p no matter the lighting situation.

TMI warning...

Koo's got a little bit of an upper respiratory cold. It's no fun flying when your sinuses are inflamed. Give that boy some Dayquil/Nyquil. And YES I sympathy yawned with him! hahahahahahahaaa.

Watching this live... how can you be a straight up goofball doofus and also be the same JK dancing and singing "I'll be fuckin you right Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday..."?

I wonder if the slow jam version of Seven was a preview of what's forthcoming?

Jimin got a new phone. I think that's why he had trouble logging into In🌟 (so cute, in-sta). When you move your shit over to your new phone you have to re-login to all your apps.

So let me guess who's gonna turn up with the head cold in a few days? I hope Jimin doesn't have any important schedules coming up in the next week or so.

[harley-sunday]

August Rush [10]

Summary: You’ve known Carlos for almost as long as you have been working in Formula One but you never expected it would take you seven years and a concussion to realise that maybe you like him as more than just a friend.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x reader (OFC nicknamed Pip) | Max Verstappen x reader (best friends)

Warnings: Language. Slightly NSFW. 

Word count: 6.9k.

AN: This is it, babes. The final part of this wild ride we all went on almost a year ago. I’m gonna miss writing for these two but I think the story I wanted to tell got told and it’s time for them to have their happy ending. I couldn’t have done this without my Devious Friend™, my editor-in-chief, and my greatest support. eL, this one’s for you, babe ♥ And for all of you - I meant what I said last time, please feel free to come yell at me in the comments. I would love to hear what you think!

Masterlist

Despite the weather forecast predicting nothing but rain this race weekend, it’s actually quite nice when you make it to Spa on Wednesday and so you’re enjoying a walk through the paddock in your Alpha Tauri-issued team polo with your sunglasses on and an iced coffee in your hand. Something about the calm before the storm, you think idly. 

Spa is- It’s hectic. It’s the first race after the summer break and so there’s always a lot to catch up on, the last remnants of silly season still echoing through the paddock and some of the announced driver changes for next year raising a few eyebrows here and there. Like you expected, the news that your team has chosen to focus on the development of next year’s car has been met with very few questions and so, except for a press conference that isn't scheduled until tomorrow morning, there isn’t much for you to do except catch up with the other press officers and a few of your driver friends.

First stop is the Red Bull garage, where you find Max joking around with some of his pit crew, comparing tans and exchanging stories about their summer holidays. His smile grows even wider when he spots you and he gives you a quick wave, motioning for you to come over, “Hello.” 

You step into his outstretched arms without a moment’s thought, “God, I’ve missed you, Maxy.”

He hugs you closer, “How are you?”

“Good,” you tell him, before you let go and take a step back. “I just wanted to hear if we’re still on for dinner with your mom tonight?”

“She’s been talking about nothing else ever since she got here,” Max chuckles. “I think we’re staying in the same hotel, right?” He waits for you to nod before he continues, “Ok, so why don’t we meet in the lobby at seven and I’ll ask mum to meet us there? I think she wants to go to that restaurant we went to last year also.”

“With that housemade ‘Stoofvlees’,” you try, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. Your mouth starts to water just thinking about the dish, a beef and onion stew that Sophie convinced you to try last year and that you have thought about ever since. 

Max laughs, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Perfect,” you agree with a nod as you start to walk backwards towards the pitlane, “I’ll see you at seven then.”

***

“Oh my God,” you roll your eyes and lean back in your chair, savouring the taste of your final bite. Holding your hand in front of your mouth then, because you still have some manners left, “That was so good!”

Sophie and Max share a look before they both let out a laugh and Max continues telling you about his holiday in Brazil, after you’ve already told them a little about your time in Mallorca, leaving out a few choice details of course.

Dinner with Sophie and Max is nice, it always is. You don’t get to see Sophie that often and when you do it’s usually just a quick hello in the paddock after quali or before the race and so to be able to sit down with her and Max and have a couple of hours to catch up is a small treat in and of itself. 

When Max excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Sophie leans forwards and waits until he’s out of earshot before she softly says, “There’s something different about you, Pip.” 

You smile and look down, trying to avoid her curious gaze because you know if she looks at you long enough you’ll just spill everything. Instead you trace the rim of your water glass with your fingers and shrug, “I’m just really in a good place, I guess. Work is going well and-”

“Hmm,” Sophie agrees half-heartedly, seeing right through your act. “It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me yet, sweetheart. I know how exciting it can be to keep something to yourself for a while.”

“Yeah,” you nod and look up at her, smiling almost apologetically, “I think I should tell Max first-” 

She reaches over the table and puts her hand on yours, “Whatever it is or-” she smiles, “Whoever it is, I’m sure Max will be fine.” 

“I know. It’s just-” you take a deep breath.

“He cares about you so much,” Sophie looks up then and when you follow her eyes you see Max making his way back to the table. She leans in closer, squeezes your hand and whispers, “He’ll be fine.” 

***

During the drivers’ interviews on Thursday, pairing Pierre with Mick and Yuki with Fernando, you stay in the media room for all ten interviews like you always do, smiling when you see Carlos and Daniel walk on stage. 

You’re all the way in the back of the room but still Carlos’ eyes find yours and the smile he sends you makes the heat rise to your cheeks. Daniel is too busy cracking jokes with one of the journalist to notice anything but then Carlos gets asked what he did over his summer holidays, which he answers with a very vague, “Not much, I enjoyed having some time off while also making sure I kept up with the training schedule,”, and all of a sudden Daniel’s all over him with cheeky grins and cheesy winks that are meant to let everyone know that, as far as Daniel’s concerned, Carlos is not telling the full story.

For a moment you’re worried Daniel knows- Something, but- He couldn’t, can’t he? Still, you clear your throat loud enough to catch Daniel’s attention and when his eyes land on you, you tell him to cut it out with a miniscule shake of your head. 

He furrows his brows and you know he’ll give you shit for it later, but for now you’ve averted the crisis because the next journalist is already asking Carlos what he thinks of the weather forecast for this weekend and if he’s worried about the race being delayed.

***

“What was that all about, babe?”

You startle a little when Daniel’s warm breath hits your neck and so you curse quietly, which in turn makes him laugh, turning a few heads in your direction. You try to smile apologetically, knowing it’s best not to have the pinnacle of F1 journalism on your bad side.

“Bad conscience, huh?” He pinches your side and puts his mouth even closer to your ear, “So come on, spill the tea, what were you and Sainz up to this summer?”

“Nothing,” you whisper in his direction. “I just didn’t think it would be good for either team if they found out during a press conference that an Alpha Tauri employee spent their summer at a Ferrari driver’s house. There’s a time and place for that, Dan.”

Daniel sucks some air between his teeth, “Yeah, that could get nasty real’ quick, huh?” He slings his arm around your shoulder then and holds up his other hand, extending his pinky to you, “Pinky promise nothing happened?”

You don’t hesitate and hook your finger behind his, “Pinky promise.”

“Good,” he says and oddly enough it sounds as if he believes you because he nods to the podium then, “Let’s hear what these two have to say for themselves then, babe.”

You follow his eyes towards the podium, where Max and Charles are answering some rather boring answers about strategy and their expectations for this weekend.

***

Carlos finds you in the Alpha Tauri hospitality early on Friday morning, the paddock still relatively quiet and not too many other drivers yet around. It’s been your race week ritual ever since he moved from Toro Rosso to Renault and so you were already waiting with an espresso for him and a cappuccino for you. It’s weird, having to act as if you’re still just friends because God, you really want to kiss him. To distract yourself you keep playing with the charm on your bracelet.

He notices, of course he does, and says, with one raised eyebrow and a rather mischievous grin, “If you would just tell him we could- You know-”

“Carlos-” You add a dramatic sigh for full effect. “Later. Ok?”

“Later today, or-” Carlos lets out a laugh when you throw him a look, “What? I need to know how to plan my day, cariño. Can I kiss you? Can I not ki-”

“Carlos!” You put your hand over his mouth and look around rather panicked, hoping nobody has heard him. It doesn’t seem anyone did, “You are a menace, you know that.”

Carlos wiggles his eyebrows and nips at the palm of your hand.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” You let out a sigh and pull back your hand, “I will tell him after the race, ok? I promise.”

He pouts. Of course he does. 

You shake your head but can’t help but laugh, “Two more days, babe. You’ll manage.”

“Babe?”

Shit. You turn around and try your best to act cool, “Hi Lando.”

Lando seems unimpressed and points at Carlos, “What are you calling him ‘babe’ for?”

“She’s angry,” Carlos says before you even have the chance to come up with an excuse. When Lando looks between you and Carlos and back, looking more confused than ever, Carlos leans in and whispers, “Did you never notice she calls people ‘babe’ whenever she tries to get her point across even though she knows you’re not gonna listen?”

And, oh damn if that isn’t the truth. You just never knew he picked up on that.

Landos squints at you but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and just as you’re convinced he’s not buying it he starts nodding enthusiastically, “She does!”

“Lando!” You playfully smack his chest, “You’re supposed to disagree, babe.”

Lando’s eyes widen and then he lets out a cackle, “You’re literally doing it right now.”

You can’t help but laugh but throw Carlos a quick wink when Lando isn’t looking and mouth a quiet, “Nice save.”

***

While the first free practice is rather uneventful, FP2 has Max losing control of the rear of his car and spinning out at Malmedy, hitting the wall. Despite that he still manages to set the fastest time and so you’re not too worried about him or the car, although you still send him a text to make sure he’s ok. 

It’s nearing the end of the day and so you’re busy  gathering your things when you hear your name being called from outside the garage. When you look up and see your best friend standing there, waving enthusiastically, you can’t help but run over to her and throw yourself at her for a hug, “Hi friend!”

“Hi babe,” she hugs you closer. “I’ve missed you.” 

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit easily enough. 

She lets go then and puts her hands on your arms, “Now tell me, how are things with that boy toy of yours? I want to know everything.”

“Flo,” you warn through gritted teeth, a quick look around to make sure Pierre isn’t within earshot, “not here.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “During dinner then.” She looks at you expectantly, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just grab my things-” you say and nod towards your bag and jacket. “I do want to get changed first though, so we’re stopping at my hotel first, ok?”

“Ok,” she echoes, the word dramatically drawn out, “but you're driving.” 

***

“So yeah, friends with benefits,” you conclude your story of your time with Carlos. 

Flo eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re just having fun-” you try again but it sounds rather unconvincing and you hope she’s not going to push it. You feel terrible lying to your best friend but you really want to tell Max first and so you add with a cheek grin, “-and great sex, so win-win.”

“Hmm,” she hums, leaning back in her chair, a glass of wine dangling between her fingers. “There’s something you’re not telling me, though.” A wicked grin then, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

“Counting on it,” you challenge her, holding up your glass. “Cheers, babe.” 

***

Saturday has a change of weather and all of a sudden you find yourself waiting in the garage, the first qualifying session delayed by fifteen minutes because of the rain that’s absolutely pouring down. You’re not really needed for qualifying but you like to show your support to both Yuki and Pierre and so you tend to hang around anyway.

When it’s finally time to get started, you find your way to the TV screens lining the wall and watch the first round of quali unfold with Pyry, Pierre’s trainer, standing next to you, absolutely towering over you. Flo is standing on Pyry’s other side, nervously chewing on the cuticle of her thumb as her eyes are glued on the screen. You know Spa holds some horrendous memories for her and that she’s not just watching Pierre but Charles as well and so you stand next to her and take her free hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Together you see Yuki getting eliminated after the first stint and Carlos and Charles stranding in Q2, while Pierre and Max advance to Q3, where a crash from Lando brings out the red flags after only a few minutes of racing, which means Max takes pole and Pierre starts sixth on the grid tomorrow. 

***

You’re in the media pen with Pierre once qualifying is over and zone out a little when he’s answering questions from Ziggo Sports because their reporter Jack has a very roundabout way of asking something that’s always rather simple. You can’t wait to get out of this cold and so you’re sort of daydreaming about the hot shower waiting for you in your hotel room. It’s then you see Carlos walking over to Sky Sports who are lined up next to where you’re standing and you can feel your heart skip a beat because God, he looks good. 

He catches you looking and throws you a wink, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair, knowing exactly what it does to you.

You quickly avert your eyes and try to focus on Jack’s next question but it turns out the interview is over and thus so are Pierre’s media duties. You walk back to the garage together in silence, both of you lost in thought. Before he disappears into his driver's room to get changed, you remind him there’s a scheduled post going up on his Instagram in an hour or so and then  continue on towards the Alpha Tauri offices to collect your bag so you can head out and call it a day. 

You’re in a relatively quiet part of the paddock when you feel someone walking up behind you and before you can even turn around there are two hands on your hips, gently pushing you into a dark corner in between the Alpha Tauri and Ferrari garages. You gasp, ready to punch whoever has grabbed you but then you hear a low chuckle that you’d recognize anywhere and so instead you turn around and gently slap his chest, whispering a berating, “Carlos!”

“What?” He tries to act all innocent while grinning wickedly, “There’s no one around, cariño. And I really, really want to kiss you. If I have to wait until Sunday evening I won’t survive.”

You let out a giggle, hiding your face against his chest, “You’re so dramatic.”

“It’s why you love me,” he counters almost instantly. “Let me kiss you?”

“We can’t-” you try but you know it’s a losing battle when he puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head back, making you look up at him. 

He licks his lips and lets his eyes fall to your mouth, “Please?”

You don’t say anything but instead push yourself up, brushing your lips against his, letting out a tiny whimper when he kisses back, hard. Soon enough you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, your hands sneaking into his hair, wishing you could stop time for just five minutes or so. 

Carlos has just slipped his tongue inside your mouth, making you moan a little, when you hear a manic laugh coming from somewhere close by.

Both you and Carlos pull back at the same time and you hold onto his arms as you look around him, trying to find the culprit. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe they were laughing at something else. Maybe it’s-

It’s Pierre.

Oh shit.

You curse quietly and step to the side, rounding Carlos, arms outstretched to your driver as if any sudden movements will set something in motion you’re not ready to deal with yet. 

Pierre shakes his head, still laughing, and holds up his phone, snapping a picture, “C’est chaud ça, hein?”

“Pierre Jean-Jacques Gasly,” you warn him, using your best mom-voice as you slowly walk towards him, “don’t you dare. Delete that.” Dropping your voice then, hoping it will get your point across, “Now.”

It’s no use, his fingers are already hovering over the screen, his lips curled up in a manic grin, “Oh, this is so good-” 

“What are you doing?” Your voice is a little high-pitched but Jesus, if he puts any of this on Instagram-

It’s then he looks up and when he sees how close you are he tries to act very innocent all of a sudden, dropping his smile and shrugging, “Nothing.” 

You take a deep breath, trying your hardest not to panic, “Give me your phone.”

“What? No.” Pierre takes a step back and hides his phone behind his back.

“Cabrón,” Carlos says from over your shoulder, his voice low and a warning there that makes a shiver run down your spine. “Give her your phone.”

“I didn’t do anything stupid, ok? I just wanted proof. So I can collect my winnings-” He seems to realise his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth and he tries to cover it up by adding, “It’s not online, I swear.”

You look at him in shock, starting to connect dots you’re not sure you want to connect, “Winnings? What? Do you have a bet going on or-?” It’s then you remember your call with Flo, where she told you to figure things out before Spa and- You can’t believe Pierre and Flo would actually bet on you getting together with Carlos. Then again- You shake your head, figure you can worry about that later. Your first priority is getting Pierre’s phone and if he wants to piss you off some more by not giving it to you, fine. You’ll go get it yourself.

Out of nowhere you lunge forward, pushing Pierre against the back of the Ferrari garage and distracting him with a well aimed flick to his cheek-

“Oi!”

-and reach behind him, taking the phone and running back to hide behind Carlos. Pierre’s phone is locked but of course you know the code and so you pull up his last used app, a little surprised to see it’s Whatsapp, and open the most recent message thread, which is a group chat called “Chili and Pip 2021” and for a brief moment you wonder how many previous group chats there have been that they had to add a year to the name. You file that away for later because there are too many contacts in the group for it to just be him and Flo. Jesus. 

The last message Pierre sent in the chat is the picture he took, showing Carlos’ back and you behind him, looking absolutely livid. The message he attached a very eloquent, ‘Busted!’

“I can explain-” Pierre tries, and at least now he has the decency to look a little guilty. 

“I want you-” you point his phone at him, “-Flo, and everyone else in this fuckin’ group chat in my office in ten minutes,” you tell him through gritted teeth, stepping in front of Carlos then to make your point. “And I’m keeping your phone so you can’t pull any more bullshit, Gasly.”

“But-”

“Nine minutes and forty seconds,” you warn him, turning on your heels then and hold out your hand, waiting until Carlos takes it before you tug him towards the Alpha Tauri building.

When you reach your office, you can’t help but laugh, “Oh, this is going to be fuckin’ awesome.”

Carlos seems confused.

You let go of his hand and lean against your desk, “I know this is not the reaction you expected but- Ok. So. Honestly? I’m actually not surprised they made a bet out of it, I mean- It’s- It’s what we do. When Charles and Flo first started to realise that maybe they liked each other as more than friends, Pierre and I bet on how long it would take him to make it Instagram official so- I won, by the way,” you add with a grin. You wave your hand around, “Not really the point. Anyway, the thing I’m most upset about is that I didn’t figure this out sooner-”

“Why?” He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ve lost your mind, which honestly, after the way you’ve been rambling, you can understand.

“So we could have messed up their wagers,” you explain. “We could have pretended to have gotten into a big fight or- I could have made up a boyfriend, you know? Just, mess with them a little.”

Carlos visibly relaxes and nods, admitting with a shy smile, “Pierre once bet me that Charles would cry during his first podium.” He shrugs and his smile grows wider then, “He lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I should have known this would happen. Ugh-” you let out a frustrated sigh but then clap your hands together, “Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do-”

***

“Everyone here?” You look at Pierre, who nods. You’re not convinced, “Where’s Max?”

“Max isn’t in on this-”

Oh, thank God.

“-he doesn’t know anything about this,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “We know how protective he is of you and-"

“Ok. Thank you, Daniel.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when you see Daniel shrink back against the wall like a naughty schoolboy who has been told off by the headmaster. You’re leaning against your desk, hands resting on the cool surface on either side of you, and look across the room. 

All the usual suspects are here; Pierre, Charles, Flo, Lando, Daniel- You’re a little surprised to see Yuki here but then again, are you really? You know from experience that Pierre can be quite persuasive and so he probably bullied the younger driver into taking part. No, the one that surprises you most is Rupert, Carlos’ personal trainer. When your eyes land on him you shake your head, hoping it conveys your disbelief, “Really Rupert?”

He laughs and shrugs, “I’ve been seeing you two-” he says with a nod towards Carlos, “- dance around each other since his first year in Formula One, darling. I’m honestly surprised it has taken you this long to figure it out.”

The rest of the drivers in the room nod in agreement. Flo even has the audacity to throw you a look that says ‘Told you so.’

“Anyway,” you continue, focusing on Pierre again. “Since you seem to be the ringleader, Gasly, please explain what’s going on here?”

“Well, I-” Pierre runs a hand through his hair and looks at Flo for backup. 

“No. nu-uh.” She shakes her head, “This was all you, Gas.” 

His eyes widen in shock at the betrayal by his friend, “Do I need to remind you about-”

“You do not,” Flo bites back. “We both know what happened that night.” As always, they only need half a word to have a full conversation. Flo crosses her arms in front of her chest then, “You’re the one who created the group chat, non?”

Next to her Lando and Yuki nod but then Pierre throws them a warning look and suddenly their shoes are much more interesting to look at. Lando, at least, has the decency to blush.

“I can’t believe you’re going to let me take the blame for this,” Pierre says under his breath before he turns back to you. “Fine. Ok. So-”

You hold up your hand to get him to stop talking and shake your head, “I don’t need all the details. Just tell me who got it right and how much they won.”

Pierre shrugs, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “I did.” 

“Hey. No,” Yuki says then. “You said race day at Spa, Pierre. It’s not race day yet, is it?”

“Exactly,” Flo joins in. “So I won.” 

“No. No, no,” Lando jumps in and points at Flo, “You said before Spa. So technically you both got it wrong.”

You let out what you hope is a frustrated sigh, “Ok, so did no one get it right, or-” 

Charles shakes his head in reply, “No. But I think Pierre is the closest.”

“That doesn’t count though, does it?” Carlos says from where he’s standing next to you and when you risk a glance in his direction you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to laugh. 

“I guess not,” Charles agrees quietly, hanging his head.

“Ok, so then the money is ours,” you say with a shrug as if that settles it. “Perfect.”

A round of protests starts across the room, Pierre arguing that that’s not how it works, while Yuki suggests using the money for a new bet instead, and Lando saying that because you weren’t in on the bet you couldn’t possibly win.

From the corner of your eye you see Daniel push himself off the wall, drawing your attention with a quick wave, “Babe, it has been swell, but Michael’s waiting on me for some guided meditation or- Whatever. I gotta skedaddle out of here.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans then and pulls out a folded fifty Euro bill, reaching over Yuki to hand it to you, “I’ll make sure Michael pays you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Michael’s in on this as well?” 

“Yep,” Daniel nods. “He had you down for Abu Dhabi, by the way-” he throws you a wink, “-So I’ll let him know he’s way off.” 

“Sure. Ok. Whatever,” you reply, not surprised. Daniel is just about to open the door when you call out to him, “Dan?” When he turns around you lock eyes with him, “Not a word about this to Max, ok?” You look at everyone in the room then, “I mean it, guys. He can’t hear this from you.”

A chorus of, “We know,” echoes across the room.

“Good.” A smile then, “Thank you.” 

“So,” Pierre starts hesitantly, testing the waters, “can we go now, or-”

“Well first of all, you are an idiot for thinking we would announce our relationship on race day.” You scoff, “Have I taught you nothing in our years of working together?”

Pierre hangs his head and repeats from memory, a mocking tone to his voice, “No important news during race weekends. We wait until we’re in between races before we put out personal news.”

“Exactly.” You push yourself off your desk then, “And second of all, it looks like you all owe me fifty Euros, suckers-” you hold out your hand and grin, “- so pay up.”

***

“I really should go see Max,” you tell Carlos once it’s just you and him, and an unexpected three hundred Euros in your back pocket. 

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You think about it for a second and then nod, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Ok,” Carlos presses a kiss to your temple. “Do you know where he is?”

“Probably still in the garage,” 

Carlos laughs, “Yes, I think that might be our best shot.” 

***

Sure enough you find Max in the back of the Red Bull garage, going over some data with GP. You walk up to him, Carlos waiting outside because even though they tolerate employees of the sister team in here, you’re not sure it would go over well if you invited one of Red Bull’s main competitors into the lion’s den.

“Max?” You smile as he looks up from the screen and nod towards the pit lane, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He looks at GP, who nods, “Yeah, we are done here anyway.” Max follows you outside without asking questions and if he’s surprised to see Carlos standing there he doesn’t show it and instead looks at you expectantly, “What do you want to talk about?”

“So,” you draw out, hoping a few extra seconds will help you find the right words, “I have to tell you something. And I need you to not freak out-”

“I won’t-”

“You freak out, Max,” you tell him with a kind smile. “Remember when I told you I missed my flight from Amsterdam and caught a ride with that guy who was driving to Paris so I could take a train from there?”

“Yeah, but that was of course dangerous, Pip,” Max berates you, arms folded in front of his chest now. “He could have been a murderer, or-”

“Yeah, ok,” you hold up your hand to stop him. “This is not that, ok. I am not in danger, so-”

“I’m not going to freak out,” Max says with a heavy sigh, “but you are getting on my nerves. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You take a deep breath and risk one last glance at Carlos, who gives you an encouraging nod, that does nothing to calm your nerves, “CarlosandIareinarelationship,”

Max furrows his brows, “What?”

“Carlos and I,” you repeat, slower this time. “We’re together. In a relationship. It’s very serious, at least uh- For me it is. And I uh-” you know you’re rambling but you can’t seem to stop, “I think Carlos is serious about it as well. I mean, he gave me a bracelet so-”

“Pip,” Carlos puts his hand on your arm and shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips, “stop.” 

You blow out a breath and look at Max, trying one last time, “Carlos and I are in a relationship.”

Max stays silent for a bit but then deadpans in that way only he can, “I of course know.”

“I-” you echo, confused. “You know?”

“Yes.”

“Ho- How?”

Then, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I saw you kissing in the paddock earlier today.”

“Huh.” You look at Carlos, still panicking a little,  pointing from you to him and back, “He saw us kissing in the paddock.” 

“Seems like he did,” Carlos answers calmly as if somehow he knew Max knew all along. 

“Did you know he saw us, or-”

Carlos shakes his head, “I did not but-”

You turn back to Max, “And you’re ok with this?” You’re not sure why you’re trying to self sabotage here but the question comes out almost on its own.

“Of course,” Max looks from you to Carlos as if he’s confused why you’re even having this conversation. 

“Ok.” You nod, relieved, “Ok. Cool. Uhm-” you look at Carlos and shrug, “Well, I guess that’s that then.” 

“That doesn’t mean I won’t seriously hurt you if you ever hurt her,” Max says then, looking at Carlos with that determined look he gets whenever he tries to get his point across.

“I know, cabrón,” Carlos agrees easily enough. He claps Max on his back, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

***

EPILOGUE

It’s after Abu Dhabi and its controversial last race, where Max beats Lewis on the last lap and thus wins the championship, after post-season testing, after a hug goodbye and a promise to stay in contact over the winter break to both Yuki and Pierre, and after a quick stop in Monaco where Max gets off his plane and wishes you safe travels, leaving you in the hands of his trusted cabin crew, that you find yourself on your way Mallorca once again. 

This time Carlos is waiting for you at the airport, standing a little to the side so as to not draw attention to himself, a black baseball cap drawn over his eyes, and his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You spot him before he sees you and you swear your heart skips a beat the moment he looks up and you lock eyes with him.

God, you’ve missed him. 

Sure, you’ve seen him just about every other weekend since you left Mallorca in August but other than some stolen glances in the paddock, your regular coffee dates, and some very spicy text messages and phone calls, you haven’t actually been with him and it’s gotten more and more difficult as time went by and so it takes everything you have not to run up to him.

Instead, there’s a chaste hug when he greets you, knowing the airport arrivals hall is too much of a public space to do anything but.

It isn’t until you sit down in the passenger’s seat of his car that’s parked in a far away corner in the garage, that he leans in and kisses you fiercely, tongue running between your lips almost immediately. You open your mouth greedily, your tongue chasing his into his mouth before you lick the inside of his cheek, savouring his taste.

Carlos pulls back then and mutters something in Spanish that you don’t quite catch but can figure out the meaning of soon enough when he steps back and rounds the car, leaving you to catch your breath on your own. When he steps inside he throws you a look that makes you shiver but doesn’t say anything, instead starting the car and backing up out of the parking space.

You put your seatbelt on and turn towards him in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Take me home, Carlos.”

***

Carlos circles your nipple with his tongue, making your arch your back, and you can feel him smile against your skin when you let out a quiet moan. He’s cupping your other breast with one hand while the other has two fingers inside you, slowly scissoring you open as his thumb rubs circles over your clit. 

You haven’t even made it into the kitchen yet because he’s got you flush against the wall in the hallway, your dress pushed up to your hips and your panties discarded somewhere between the front door and here. “Carlos,” you sigh, your hands cupping his face and guiding his mouth back to yours, the kiss drenched in want and need and-

“I don’t care how we do it,” Carlos says against the corner of your mouth, “but I’m done hiding you from the rest of the world, mami.” He pulls back a little and looks at you, pupils blown wide, “I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

You hum in agreement, throwing your head back so he can kiss his way back to your chest, your hands in his hair now to keep him in place. “All yours, baby,” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse. You cry out when he adds a third finger without warning, your eyes flying open when you feel him drag his mouth from your breasts to your stomach and further down, watching as he drops to his knees and laps at your clit, “Fuck, that’s it. Right there-”

He looks up at you and actually winks before he slides his hand behind your knee and pulls your leg up onto his shoulder for better access. 

The quiet whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers out of you is quickly replaced by a moan when you feel his tongue slide inside and he starts eating you out for real. You grip onto his hair a little tighter and grind your hips against his face, quietly pleading, “Don’t stop,” over and over and over again.

***

“Can’t we just stay here forever,” you muse quietly, your fingers ghosting over his chest, sometimes playing with the charm that’s hanging from his necklace. Behind the curtains the sky is a vivid orange, casting a faint glow into the bedroom that makes it feel like you’re in a movie. “I’ve saved up a nice bit of money and I’m sure you don’t have to work like, ever again-” above you Carlos chuckles, “-so I think we could make it work.” 

“Maybe. But I know mamà would kill us if we don’t make it home for Christmas, cariño,” Carlos reasons, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “so-”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly. You look up at him then, “Speaking of Christmas-I have an early Christmas present for you.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, “Oh?”

You reach over him and grab your phone, pulling up the app you use for scheduled posts and angling the screen towards him, “I want to post this tonight. I’m done keeping you a secret.”

He takes your phone from you and scrolls through the five pictures you’ve edited, showing a curated timeline of your relationship since August, the first one a picture of him that you secretly took yesterday, when you were waiting on your food in a café in Cala d’Or, the rest of them selfies of you and him throughout the moments you shared together until now. His smile grows wider when he reads the caption before he looks at you again, “You sure?”

“Very,” you confirm easily enough and push yourself up so you can let your lips ghost over his. “We’ve waited long enough.” 

***

“Ok,” you refresh the page to confirm. “Done.”

Next to you Carlos nods, “Good.”

You’re on the couch in the living room, your feet resting in Carlos’ lap, both of you enjoying a glass of red wine. Before you even have a chance to lock your phone it rings, the name of your best friend popping up on your screen and you can’t help but grin when you show Carlos before you accept the call and put it on speaker, “Hi Maxy,”

“Pip-” his voice catches and so he tries again, “Pip, I think you made a mistake.”

“What are you-”

“You posted to your public account,” Max continues, panic seeping through his voice. “I don’t think- This should of course go on your private account. What if anyone- Oh Godverdomme” he lets out a shaky sigh, “you already have a hundred likes. You need to take it down, Pip, before-”

“Maxy,” you interrupt him with a smile, “breathe.” He’s still rambling and so you try again, “Max Emilian Verstappen, stop. Breathe. And go to Carlos’ profile.”

“But-”

“Do it.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, Carlos already looking at you with a very bemused smile. In your head you count down, waiting for Max to understand, from three, to two, to one, to-

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” you agree easily enough, knowing Max has just seen the same caption with mostly the same pictures, on Carlos’ page. Except for the first one, where Carlos opted for a picture of you and Piñon sleeping together in the garden.

“So this was on purpose?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And the team is ok with this?”

You let out a laugh, “Max, I love you but if you really think we posted this without running it by our bosses first I wonder if you even really know me.”

“Yeah, ok, that’s fair.” You can just imagine the way Max hangs his head. “Well, in that case I didn’t call.” 

You can hear him start to say his goodbyes and so you quickly say, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

It stays quiet on the other end of the line for a few seconds but then you hear him let out a heavy sigh that you know is fake because you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Of course. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Maxy,” you say with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll call you on Christmas Day, ok? Love you.”

“Ik ook van jou.” He clears his throat then, “Oh and Carlos?” 

Carlos leans in, apparently not surprised that Max knows he was listening in, “Yes, cabrón?

“You’re very lucky to have her, mate. Don’t fuck it up.”

Carlos shakes his head even though Max can’t see him and looks at you with a warm smile, his hand wrapping around your wrist and his thumb rubbing the charm on your bracelet, “Never.”

Once you’ve said your goodbyes you put your phone on silent and toss it aside and when Carlos looks at you with a frown, you grin, “Everyone else can wait until tomorrow.”

“God, I love you,” Carlos mutters as he leans forward, swinging one leg over your hips so he’s lying on top of you, holding some of his weight off by resting on his elbows. He looks down at you and dips his head then, finding your mouth with his.

The kiss is different, slower, like you’re both desperate to savour every minute because you know there’s no rush. Not anymore. You let your hands run through his hair and when after a while he pulls back and collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath hitting your skin in regular breaths, you wrap one leg around his waist and let out a content sigh, feeling your eyes grow heavy when you whisper, “I love you.” 

“Te amo, mi reina.”

- FIN -

Taglist:  @shes-homeward-bound | @chiogarza | @oyesmendes | @thatchickwiththecamera | @sanne-p | @your-favourite-blonde | @internetgremlin | @watermel0nsugarhigh | @fictional-l0v3r | @nochillnel | @dr3lover | @dan3avacado | @idkiwantchocolatee | @nicke0115 | @desperate-and-broken | @iamasimpingh0e | @guardians-ofthe-lastyoungkilljoy​ | @vroomvroommbtch

[sleeby-anon]

Fae!Wilbur Soot x reader

Afab gender neutral reader

A unfinished drabble done in the discord server I figured I’d better post it to help the lot of you through the content drought. It’s incredibly unorganized. Based on the idea of how fae get drunk off honey.

This is NSFW: Minors piss off. Uhhh aphrodisiacs and tipsy pretty fae boy

One passionate night spent with loving murmurs and fingers tracing skin, and as he is admiring your body for the umpteenth time, his eyes shining something sadistic before grabbing the little jar, dipping his fingers in and dribbling honey all over you.

He’s tracing patterns into your skin with the stuff and looking at you with this sadistic grin before he’s dipping his fingers back in and dribbling the stuff all over your clit and vagina—it’s soft, and syrupy, and you are about to ask what he’s doing before he’s eagerly lapping at your folds—with a vigor you have not felt from him in some time

He’s calling you honeybee, honeycomb, as he’s pressing the sweet sticky stuff into your skin, then kissing you with the taste of honey and you still on his tongue

He’s lapping up the dribbles of the honey on your body before pressing bruising kisses into them. And his magic is becoming more wild, you can feel it. From the soft grass peeking through the floorboards and the soft little flowers reaching up to graze your arms, the way a warm fall breeze seems to whistle through the air even through your windows are shut, and the smell of sun nourished wind-kissed fruit are being exposed through the air like the crackle of a lightning storm—the honeys is definitely driving him more wild

You don’t even wake up the next morning feeling sticky from the honey—there is a absolutely passed out Wilbur (who is curled into you) and a near empty jar of honey

Getting to the point where you hide it from him—partly because he’s a honeyholic—but if he finds it he will be rubbing it along your arms, and then spending near hours massaging it into your skin, and kissing off the excess—you are his honeybee, and you should be nothing but sweet at all times

And it’s not like you need to go and buy raw honey—he’s fae—he literally knows of several hives—plus if you know an apiary nearby they almost always have honey for the one who is giving them flower clippings that make their hives go wild.

And on a few select days in the fall, you’ll surprise him with baklava, or honey milk teas, and stars above if you wanted to have sex you could have just *asked*

And dear gods does he want to spoil you. He want to bathe you in the finest of springs and then drip the summer warmed honey in between your thighs and across your chest—kissing it into your skin as you tremble from his touch alone.

And how he wishes you could be effected by the honey the same way the honey effects him his magic gone wild, the way the only thing he cares to hear is the way you moan his name like a prayer—honey on your lips, sweet and intoxicating and all he can think of is more

Eventually he does some magic digging and find an enchanted honey that works as an aphrodisiac to humans, to regular fae it’s like the strength of a strong wine. And by god is he excited to use it on you.

The minute you get home—absolutely dead on your feet, Wilbur is pulling you outside to his faerie circle, the one through the thick of the enchanted woods and with the falls nearby and he’s murmuring to you, to let him take care of you for tonight, just one night. And you are so tired, and the thought of being taken care of doesn’t sound so bad, so you acquiesce

And he’s pulling off your clothes while pulling you into one of the pools by the falls. He sits behind you, pulling your head back until your hair is floating in a halo around your head in the water, and he’s softly massaging your face, paying special attention to your jaw and temples before pulling you up, your back to his chest and he’s taking great care in cleaning you of the the wretched modern world

And all the while he’s humming. Something old, something ancient—a melody lost to time—but you can feel yourself relaxing, becoming more at ease from the shitty ass day you had—the tension leaving your shoulders

The next time you open your eyes, you feel him dragging two fingers across your chest—you believe it must be honey, he only dragged two fingers like that across you for one reason. Only this time, after smearing it across your chest, he tipped your head back and murmured not to swallow any of it. You knew it’s wasn’t his semen or anything—but the immediate taste of sweetness on your tongue, it wa a honey. After a few seconds of him pouring it into your mouth he stopped and you swallowed.

You weren’t sure what the reason was for him sharing his precious resource (especially when he couldn’t kiss it off of you) but he was currently massaging your scalp and finger combing through your hair in the water. It didn’t seem all that important to think right now

And he’s pulling you out of the water, an oddly warm fall breeze drying your naked body and your hair somehow carefully braided back, with the littlest of branches and fall leaves woven in.

And he’s pulling you his circle, still humming that melody that makes your thought process become soup, and the moss in his circle softens your step, and the grass grows tall around the stone and mushroom circle—as if shielding you from prying eyes. You vaguely feel the dribbling of more honey across your chest, before it being smeared into your stomach, and a healthy dollop spread between your thighs.

But for some reason, this time unlike the other times, you felt warmer, more comfortable, and the places where the honey touches made the area crazy sensitive to touch, and you nearly moaned something obscene when he began massaging the honey into your sex.

And then he’s kissing it off of you, the feeling too intense to describe, as you writhe and gasp and moan out his name, over and over he kisses the honey off you a bit slower, letting you feel nearly everything.

The residue of his spit and the honey leaves you trembling, as he’s stretching you out with his fingers—using more of the honey as lube, and it’s such an intense and exhilarating form of pleasure that tears are leaking down your face—it’s all so much—and it’s overwhelming but you can’t say no.