#unless you count the one I've had for like a month. maybe longer

[no-one-hears-me]

boutta ask my bro if he has any hot friends to send my way as a distraction

[coff33andb00ks]

Hazy Days - LN

summary: summer fling, don't mean a thing pairing: lando norris x divorced!reader word count: 3.6k warnings: non-explicit smut (mdni), older woman a.n.: fuck quadrant's summer scope vids song: summer nights from Grease

You're doing it again. It's been over a year now and you're still rubbing your ring finger with your thumb. You're not as quite as surprised when you don't feel the rings, and when you look down you're relieved to see that the pale patch of skin has disappeared. I've got to buy a ring, you think. Because, despite everything, you still feel weird without a ring on that finger.

You give your head a shake. The marriage is over. It was over before it officially began, but the divorce has been finalized for almost a month. The settlement is in your account – it's how you're paying for this spontaneous trip.

You're no longer a married woman. A terrifying thought, even now, when your entire identity for nearly 10 years was wife. And now…

Now you don't know what you are.

So you packed a bag, bought a plane ticket on a whim, and now you're at some seaside hotel in the south of France. You're looking out at the people on the beach, and further out at the yachts dotting the Mediterranean.

A place you've always wanted to visit and now you're frozen in the hotel room, scared to death that you won't enjoy it. Like a decadent dessert you've thought about all day that tastes like an old candy bar when you finally get a bite. Like the new Louboutin pumps you'd wanted for your birthday two years ago that had pinched your toes and you haven't worn since.

You've built this up in your head and now you're afraid it won't live up to your expectations.

Babes, enjoy it. This is gonna be so healing for you.

Your best friend's words ring in your mind and you reach for the phone to call her for more reassurance, then remember the time difference. She loves you, but she won't appreciate a phone call this early unless it's an emergency.

"God, get over it. You're not the only newly divorced woman in the world," you mutter to yourself, turning away from the window to finish dressing. You want to do some exploring, get plenty of photos to share, maybe find a few souvenirs.

Your thumb slides over your ring finger as you exit the hotel a little while later and you sigh, turning back to ask the concierge of a nice jewelry store. When you tell him you're interested in purchasing a ring, he knows the perfect place and soon you're on your way, strolling along the winding streets.

The afternoon sun is hot and you breathe a sigh of relief once you step into the shop. The interior or hushed and you're aware of the clerks' eyes all moving to you. A couple young men at the counter are chatting and laughing, not paying attention to you at all, and you venture further into the shop.

The men are looking at bracelets, and a smartly dressed clerk is more than happy to show you the rings, leading you to a low counter and inviting you to sit in the cushioned chair.

"Oh… No, not anything like a wedding or engagement ring," you say as a tray of sparkling diamond rings is brought out. "I… I recently got divorced and I need something to replace my rings. Something that looks nothing like a wedding ring?"

From behind you, you can hear the two men murmuring, their English accents oddly comforting after three days of hearing only French voices. You finally narrow the selection down to two and are trying to decide when movement out the corner of your eye snags your attention.

It's one of the men, peering at necklaces. You steal a glance at him – handsome, well dressed, a head of dark curls – and look back at the rings when he turns his head, embarrassed to be caught looking.

You're focusing on the rings, trying them on and testing out how they feel against your thumb, when he speaks.

"I think the other one looks better."

Jerking your head up, you find yourself looking into a pair of brilliant green eyes.

It's so fucking unfair that his lashes are so pretty.

"Do you?" you ask, looking back at the rings.

"Yeah – unless you want something flashy?"

He's moved close enough you can smell his cologne.

He even smells divine. So fucking unfair.

You switched rings and nodded. "Flashy isn't really me… I'll take this one," you tell the clerk.

The man smiles. "Getting used to a ring?"

"Ah… No," you chuckle. "Can't get used to not having one."

His smile dies and a look of panic flashes over his face. "Um… Sorry?"

You almost laugh. Giving your head a shake, you watch the clerk wrap the ring and wait for her to return. "Don't be."

"Oh," he murmured, smile returning and sliding into a grin. "Congratulations, then."

This time you do laugh. "Thanks."

He gives you a look as the clerk returns, and before you can reach for your wallet he's already handing over his card. You open your mouth to protest but he tips his head. "A congratulations gift," he insists.

His friend approaches, giving you a friendly nod. "What are we congratulating?"

You smile weakly. "The end of my marriage."

"Divorce?" he asks. When you nod, he smirks. "The best thing about marriage, honestly."

"Max."

"What am I supposed to say?" Max protests, holding up his hands.

The first man groans. "You're such a – cheers," he says when the clerk brings his card back. "Let's go before you embarrass me even more."

You're smiling at their banter as you thank the clerk for her assistance. When you stand to make your way out, he's waiting near the door.

"Buy you a drink?" he offers as he opens the door for you.

His name is Lando. Max – pain in my ass – is obviously his best friend and doesn't join you for drinks as he's got to get packed up to leave. When you suggested Lando spend time with him before he goes home, Lando waved it off.

"He lives in England but I see him all the time."

Lando, it turns out, does not live in England. He looks almost embarrassed when you ask where he lives, and when he finally mutters that he lives in Monaco your eyes widen. Surely he's too young to be that well off?

Trust fund, probably. Now you don't feel so bad for his paying for the ring.

"That must be… Interesting," you say, taking a sip of your drink. He's brought you to a chic bar at the beach, and you're sitting on the upper terrace, the slowly sinking sun casting a golden glow over the water.

"I don't really get much time there." He fiddles with the stirrer in his drink. "I'm gone a lot."

Interest piqued, you set your glass down. "Oh?" Maybe he's a model, even if he is a little on the short side. Not that he's that short – he's definitely taller than you. "What do you do?"

"I drive cars." He ducks his head briefly. "Racecars."

"Really? I'm not… I'm a dumb American, the only racing I really know is the Indy 500?"

He laughs, shaking his head. "That's IndyCar."

You listen, fascinated, as he tells you about formula one, which you have heard about but it's not in your orbit. He seems both relieved and amused at the fact you're not into sports, and you can feel him relax as he laughs when you tell him you only watch the Super Bowl every year so you can eat a ton of junk food.

A drink turns into a few, and he's so nice to listen to, so easy to talk to. When he suggests dinner, you hesitate. You don't want to be that woman, newly divorced and falling into bed with the first man that looks at you. Especially one so young—

"How old are you?" you blurt.

It obviously surprises him and, though he was halfway out of his seat he sank back down. "How old are you?"

You refuse to play coy, to fish for compliments like you're desperate. "I'm thirty."

His eyebrows lift. "Twenty-four."

So not that young. More like… younger.

Lando gives you a smile. "Does that cancel dinner?"

You look into his eyes for a long moment then glance out at the view. There's an obvious fork in the road in front of you. One leads to something with this handsome racecar driver, and you have a feeling it's going to be more than dinner. The other leads to the rest of your solo vacation, with the cloud of what could be lingering. Looking at him again, you slowly breathe in.

Expensive cologne. Salt air.

"I'd love dinner," you say, and his smile rivals the setting sun.

You'll never be able to describe the meal you ate. Lando makes it nearly impossible to focus on anything but him. Not in a demanding way. He's just… Magnetic. He tells you stories about his career, about embarrassing moments and highs and lows and talks about his other ventures. How does he have time to sleep? He talks glowingly about Max and has you giggling into your wine over a story of the two of them getting into trouble that left Lando locked out of his parents' home. When he apologizes for talking so much you almost beg him to not stop. But he asks about you, and you can't help thinking he seems genuinely interested.

"My life isn't half as interesting as yours," you say with a shake of your head.

"I don't know… You're divorced, halfway around the world, having dinner with a strange guy. Seems interesting to me," he murmurs.

"Oh, it's a tale as old as time. Girl meets boy, girl falls in love and gives up everything… Girl becomes a woman, boy becomes a toad."

Lando winced. "No kissing to turn him into a prince?"

"He'd have to want the kiss for that to happen."

"What a fucking idiot," Lando says.

You tilt your head to the side. "For being a toad?"

"For not wanting your kiss."

You set your glass down with a surprised gulp. About to call him out for feeding you a line, you pause, seeing the glimmer in his eyes. Without thinking you lick your lips and see his gaze dip down briefly. You don't know what to say or how to react so you sit there, unable to refrain from thinking about how a kiss from Lando would feel.

"His loss." Lando's voice was barely above a murmur. Then, shockingly, his cheeks darken and his tongue darts over his lips. He looks down at his plate and you can hear his sigh before he looks up, his expression serious. "You gave up everything?"

"A slight exaggeration, really." You shrug, picking at your food. "I had dreams that I put on hold to help him achieve his."

"I've never been married. But, like…" He sighs, setting his fork down. "That doesn't seem fair?"

"Life isn't—"

"I know, but marriage isn't life is it?" His face screws up at that but he forges ahead. "Isn't the whole point of it to support and help each other achieve their dreams?"

Smiling sadly, you nod. "I thought it was. He thought different."

"What dreams did you put on hold?" he asks after a moment.

"I wanted to get published." You look down at your half-eaten food. "When I was a kid, I loved reading and making up stories… I was studying for my degree in English – I planned to teach writing while working on my novels, because it's hard to make money doing it at first, and… Now it's too late."

"Why do you say that?"

"I'd have to go back to school and—"

"Yeah? Would you have to start over completely?"

"No." You can't remember how many credit hours you have left, but it would only take a phone call or an email to find out. "I wasn't too far from my degree."

"Then what's stopping you?" he challenged softly.

You don't have an answer. Nothing but the fear of failing, and you don't know him well enough to admit that.

"I don't read." He winces a bit at the admission. "Dyslexic, yeah? It's a miracle I finished school. But anyway. You write a novel and I promise to read it."

A smile pulls at your lips. "You'd do that for me? Someone you don't even know?"

"Of course." He grins. "I believe in supporting the arts."

He drives you back to the hotel in his sleek sportscar and for once you understand the allure of a purring engine and soft leather seats. There's no impending pressure when he offers to see you to your room, only the heat of his hand at the small of your back and the enticing scent of his cologne.

At your door, he hesitates. "Can I kiss you?"

Has anyone ever asked your consent for a kiss? You don't think so and the realization makes you sad, but you push that away because you've wanted him to kiss you since halfway through dinner.

His lips are a lighted match to kindling. The heat and desire are immediate and you're leaning into him, frightened by the strength of your want but craving more. It's been an embarrassingly long time since you've felt this way and you're aware that it may be even longer before you feel it again. So when the door finally clicks open you don't hesitate to step inside, pausing and reluctantly breaking the kiss to look up at him.

And wish you'd googled how to invite a man into your hotel room without sounding desperate.

But you don't have to ask.

"Okay to come in?" he whispers.

"God yes," you gasp.

His lips are on yours before the door closes behind him. Wrapping your arms around him, you sink into the kiss, snatching in breaths as his hands cradle your head. A soft whine is muffled against his tongue as you grip the front of his shirt, knees nearly forgotten as the tenderness of his touch wars the ferocity of his kiss.

"Fuck," he mumbles against your lips, his hands beginning to wander, molding you closer against him, his breath hitching as he clutches your hips. He pulls his head back slightly and you can feel his harsh breathing as he stares at you before crashing his lips to yours again.

The need grows stronger, almost primal, and you're backing towards the bed, gasping as his hands pull at your dress, nearly ripping it. Craving the feel of his skin, you do the same to his shirt, barely noticing the trail of clothing on the floor, too focused on his touch and his smell and the decadence of his kiss. He guides you down, swallowing your gasp as your bare skin touches the cool sheets.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh moan, he braces his hands on either side of you and lifts up slightly. He's panting, lips parted, and he gives a soft chuckle of surprise. "I didn't plan on this."

You lick your lips, still tasting him. And only craving more. "Neither did I."

He blinks, eyes almost wild as they dart from yours to your lips and back again. And all you can think—

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so. You know it'll never happen but the romantic inside you wishes you could wake up to his eyes every morning.

He leans down, and his kiss sends every coherent thought away. His skin is warm beneath your fingers, his hair softer than you thought it would be. His hands are rough but gentle at the same time, in your hair and trailing down your sides. Your name is a longing moan vibrating against your throat as you trace the muscles of his back.

"Lando," you gasp, arching beneath him.

"I know… I know." Hot breath at your ear, fingers digging into your thigh. Guiding your leg over his hip.

"Please." It's a soft moan.

"Fuck." His lips move to yours, his gasping whimper muffled.

The frantic need is still there but he's unhurried, as though he's trying to memorize every breath, every touch. When your hand flies out to grasp the sheet his hand follows, fingers threading between yours and gripping tightly. You're lost in the haze, sweat forming between you, sheets twisting. Ecstasy rises, peaks, and it's so sudden and delicious your cries ring out.

"Y/n." A desperate whine that only increases the bliss.

Rolling, twisting, arching. It's feverish and needy and so good so so good.

You both collapse, your hands in his sweat-damp hair. Panting, tingling, you wait for the awkwardness that never comes. His touch is tender, his lips gentle on yours before he's pulling away, murmuring that he'll get a towel. He's back before you can catch your breath, and by the time you can breathe he's kissing you again.

The sky outside is turning gray when you both breathlessly agree to get some sleep. You half expect him to leave, but he's there when you wake up, sleeping on his stomach next to you, his arm slung across your waist, his gentle snores telling you he's fast asleep.

And though you distinctly remember him saying he was going back to Monaco that day, he sticks around. Blushes and shrugs when you ask him about it over lunch, then suggests borrowing a friend's yacht for the night. The days bleed into the nights, a blurred span of time of sightseeing, swimming, and Lando.

When it's time for you to pack up to go home you feel a little bereft. But the vacation can't last forever. You've got to go back to real life, figure out how you'll live as a completely free woman. And he's got to get back to his life, jetting around the world and undoubtedly breaking hearts.

You exchange numbers and he promises to keep in touch, but you know you'll be forgotten before your plane takes off. You've been a pleasant distraction for his summer break, nothing more.

You're about to board when your phone buzzes with an incoming text. From Lando.

- You dropped your ring in my car.

As you stare at the words, you realize you haven't rubbed your ring finger in nearly a week. A picture appears on the screen, the ring – that he bought – resting in his palm.

- Hold onto it for me?

He won't. He'll give it away or sell it or take it back to the shop.

But, when you're back home and have exchanged texts with him and even a couple phone calls – yes I promise I contacted an advisor, I'm signing up for classes – and he lets you know his break is over and he's getting back to work, you cave and pull up footage of him in an interview.

He looks different on the screen of your laptop. Good, but different. And you can only focus on the necklace that's just visible under his (hideous really) orange shirt. When he leans, it shifts, and you see it.

Your ring.

"Are you still hung up on her?"

Lando's head snaps up at Max's question. "What?"

His friend gestures to the phone in Lando's hand. "That American?"

He feels his cheeks heat and realizes Max knows he's looking at your Instagram. "I'm not hung up."

Max just looks at him.

"I'm just checking on her," he mutters.

With a sigh, Max softens and sits next to him. "It's okay to like her, you know."

He huffs, his hand reaching to fiddle with the ring on his necklace. "She was just supposed to be a fling."

"But she wasn't," Max says after a moment.

Lando shakes his head. "I don't know," he whispers.

Silence lingers, stretches as his thumb hovers over your most recent post.

Then, softly. "Am I stupid?"

Max shoots him a look.

"For thinking it was special," he adds before his friend can insult him. "For thinking she thinks it was special."

"Was it special?"

He swallows hard, rolling the ring between his fingers as he looks at the post, a photo of a cup of coffee next to a laptop. Up past my bedtime parsing Austen. Liking it, he closes the app and locks his phone.

Was it special? Or was it just the great sex and no strings that had him thinking it was? At first, in those days immediately after you'd left, he'd only thought about the sex. How freeing it had been, knowing he wouldn't see you again and could let inhibitions go. But with each week that passed the sex wasn't the only thing he thought about.

Laughter and sunshine. Salty air and sweet conversation. Honeyed voice and understanding eyes.

He lifts his head, meeting Max's eyes. He doesn't have to say it. Max has known him for more than half his life. But he answers.

"Yes."

Taglist:

@maxlarens | @driverlando | @leodette | @forzalando | @captainreecejames | @d3kstar | @frenchyjuju | @irishmanwhore | @warrensluvr | @tpwkstiles | @mcmuppet | @eveninggstar | @noooway555 | @bookishnerd1132 | @skeleton-elly | @trisharee | @littlegrapejuice

[heirofnight]

meddling, pt. 3

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.9k - i will never not be a yapper

summary: ah, my favorite little adorable pair. part three of the meddling series. reader wants to thank azriel for being so kind to her since her arrival at the house of wind several months ago. she gifts him with a silver chain. azriel loses his mind. fluff, so much fluff.

warnings: none, except for potential cavities from the sweetness.

a/n: this was the brain child of a post that i made thirsting over azriel wearing a chain & rings. someone commented on that post and suggested i incorporate that into this series. and here we are. probably my favorite piece of writing that i've done so far, ok. i'm simple. pining azriel makes me weak. enjoy! <3

read part one & two

you clutched the tiny, wrapped gift box in your hands, your fingers moving to glide along the cobalt blue silk bow adorning the lid.

you felt jittery, nervous. butterflies had taken flight throughout your chest and belly, relentless wings swirling.

you supposed this gesture wouldn't strike azriel as odd, or out of left field. after all, the male had been going out of his way for you for months.

his warm, kind gestures toward you as he sat next to you during your first dinner at the house of wind - you'd been so petrified, but he took you under his wing (literally). the kind, soft eyes he'd given you. he'd served your plate, giving you hushed anecdotes about each dish so you could choose what you'd wanted to indulge in. you hadn't admitted it, but you only chose to try azriel's favorite foods.

then, the sweater. he'd given you one of his oversized sweaters to snuggle into. you'd mentioned to him one time that you often froze, no matter the weather conditions, and he'd somehow remembered that detail - presenting you with the best solution he could muster. now that you knew him a bit better, you weren't sure if he'd actually remembered you admitting how cold you always were, or if that fact was just something he was able to observe himself. he was the spymaster, after all. maybe you were just easy to read.

if you were to actually ask azriel, he'd say that he remembered every word you'd ever spoken. every detail, every slight reaction. and it wasn't because it was his job to do so - wasn't because rhys had ordered him to watch over you seven months ago upon your arrival to the house of wind. no, you no longer needed his watchful eye. you were settled in, comfortable, part of the family.

he remembered the words you spoke because he hung onto every word that left your lips.

today, you sat in that favorite armchair of yours in the private library on the third floor - as always. you glanced over to the large shelf closest to you, a smile slowly spreading across your lips as you took in the romance books neatly lined before you. the romance books that azriel had removed from an obscenely tall shelf that was completely unreachable. to you, at least - unless you felt like scaling the entire thing.

he was so observant. he'd noted your favorite genre, remembered that you struggled to reach that row of books. took time out of his day to rearrange the entire left side of the library in favor of making you more comfortable. and now, here you sat. your favorite novels within arm's reach at any given moment, all because of this achingly kind male.

yes, he deserved this gift. he'd done so much, you wished you were able to bestow him with more. you were wearing his sweater again today, but this one was different. he's since presented you with four more sweaters from his closet, although he hadn't grown less bashful about offering them over to you - even though your reaction is always the same. blushing, bright eyes staring up at him in wonder as you grip the fabric and hold it to your melting heart.

and azriel, he revels in those moments. he can't help the sense of pure pride that warms his entire body from the inside out. he couldn't stop doing things for you if he tried, your smile and twinkling eyes circulating throughout his bloodstream like the first hit of a drug so strong, it threatened to bring him to his knees.

you took a deep breath, eyes flitting towards the elegant grandfather clock to your left. he'd normally stroll into the library around this time each day, joining you to read in silent, comfortable companionship.

and, like clockwork, that feisty, stray tendril of shadow that you'd come to love twirled through the crack in the wooden double doors with a flourish. it darted straight towards you, as it always did - worrying over you for a moment each time it found you. you'd imagined it was giving you a general once-over to make sure you were safe and content. it was much like its master in that regard.

the shadow looped through your fingers and hands, taking notice of the gift box that was sitting on your lap. it focused its attention there momentarily, swirling through the silky bow that matched the color of azriel's siphons - a detail you'd hoped he didn't find weird.

azriel made his appearance a second later, pushing through the doors with a book held under his arm. he moved with so much grace, despite his tall, muscular frame. he was astonishing to watch, even if the action was something completely mundane. tearing your eyes from him sometimes felt impossible, the allure he possessed was almost suffocating - but in the sweetest way.

he didn't even try to hide the fact that his sights were set on you immediately. he used to give a sweeping glance of the entire space before he allowed himself to find you, but now, he looked for you first - and you were always there. he felt any lingering tension within his body melt into the floor beneath him.

"hey, you," you spoke tenderly towards him, and the smile that he gave you made your chest warm.

he approached you, as he always did, unable to stay too far away. his eyes raked down your torso, never tiring of the feeling of seeing you in his clothing.

"i think this one is my favorite on you," he noted, eyes turning to molten honey as he took you in.

you preened at this, making a mental note to don this particular sweater a little more than the others.

"i, uh, i have something for you," you started, extending the small gift box towards him. now you knew how he felt, waiting to see if you'd accept the items of his clothing each time he presented you with them. you held your arm out without wavering, even though you felt a bit silly now.

his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink, and he studied the box in your hand for a moment. it wasn't lost on him that you'd chosen a bow that was the exact color of his blazing siphons. he felt his heart lurch against his ribcage at the realization.

"it's just a little something," you started again, voice woven with a nervous undertone at his continued silence. "i wanted to thank you for being so kind to me since i've arrived," you cleared your throat. "you've really made this place feel like ... like a home," you finished, giving him a shy, tentative smile. he could tell by the look in your eyes that you were pleading with him to accept it. you didn't have to beg him - well. maybe he'd like that, in other circumstances. however, not now, not for this.

a small smile spread across his lips at your last words. a home. he'd made someone feel like they were home, and that was enough of a gift for azriel. several times since meeting you, he'd felt as though his heart was swelling uncontrollably, growing beyond the confines of his chest. like you were somehow nurturing and tending to it. this was one of those times.

he reached a scarred hand towards the box, taking it from you gently. "y/n," he traced the bow with his fingers, slowly tugging the ribbon apart. "you really, really didn't have to do this. i just wanted you to be comfortable here, with us," he flicked his soft eyes towards yours, and you were doing that thing you did when you were nervous - fiddling with your fingers. he wanted to grab your hands then, run his lips along your knuckles, kiss each fingertip slowly. i will love it no matter what it is, he thought to himself, please don't be so nervous.

you dipped your chin at his words, huffing a small, breathy little laugh. "well, i am, az. comfortable here. with you," you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, and azriel trembled with the urge to gently place the delicate gift box aside in favor of gently tugging your delicate body towards his instead.

he took a deep breath then, composing himself, as he lifted the lid from the box. inside was a custom-made, silver curb link chain. one that was long enough to rest right in the middle of his clavicle. small, glimmering cobalt blue stones were hand-set throughout - only able to be seen when the light hit them a certain way. but when the light did hit them, they were stunning. the surface of the gems danced with the fragments of light as though they were on fire, alive.

this made him think of you: the light that found his shadows, setting him aflame.

his breath caught in his throat, and he lifted the chain from the silk pillow that it rested on. he loved it. absolutely, wholeheartedly, loved it. it was powerful-looking, strong. the best gift he ever remembered receiving.

now, you'd be lying if you said this present wasn't also - maybe, sorta kinda - for your benefit. his strong, tanned neck hugged by a silver chain? gods. okay, yeah, this was slightly indulgent on your part.

but, in your defense, azriel had begun sporting silver signet rings on several of his elegant fingers. you thought a similarly-fashioned chain would tie the look together nicely. this was just a product of your own observant nature. really, that's all it was.

...

azriel let out an exhale of astonishment, meeting your eyes with widened ones of his own.

"this, is - i mean. beautiful. this is - thank you," he breathed out, setting the now-empty box, and the book he'd been cradling under his arm, down beside you. he gently began working at the clasp of the chain, his movements so careful, you could tell he was trying his hardest not to break it - ruin it.

you stood up before him, taking a step so that you were right in front of his towering frame. "here," you whispered, tenderly taking the chain from his hands. you unclasped it with ease, standing on your tip-toes to reach behind his neck - wanting to place it on him. he ducked his head for you politely, allowing you to see what you were doing a bit better.

you were so close to him, and with his head ducked down towards you, his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder. you fought every instinct within your body that was screaming at you to move closer, breathe deeper, inhale his scent, touch him.

but you didn't. you held your composure, clasping the necklace around his neck - making sure to be careful of his wings.

azriel had his eyes closed, also fighting similar urges of his own. he wanted so badly to rest his face within the crook of your neck, wrap his arms around the middle of your back, tug you into him.

two lovesick idiots, silently pining for the other.

necklace now adorning his neck, you stepped back. azriel stood to his full height once more, and he peered down at you with a gaze that he fought to keep friendly - instead of one that screamed complete adoration.

"well," he croaked out, swallowing thickly. your eyes darted to the movement, watching his adam's apple bob beneath the silver jewelry.

you were fucked.

"how's it look?", he continued, his hand reaching towards his neck to trace the smooth, curbed chain.

it was your turn to swallow hard, which of course, he noticed. he fought a smirk, especially when he witnessed your cheeks growing hot.

you pursed your lips together, trying your best to think of a response that wasn't akin to a dog barking.

"it's -," you sighed thoughtfully, smiling warmly up at him, "you look very handsome," you stated playfully, hooking a finger underneath the chain, tugging him towards you lightly.

he faltered for a moment, almost stumbling into you. not because of your light tug, but because of your words. handsome. he loved that compliment - was one of his favorites. however, the one bit of praise that always sent him to his knees was being called pretty.

"so pretty, az," you whispered again, seemingly more to yourself than to him, eyes caught on his neck.

okay, so now azriel was fucked.

a/n: okay, i think this was my favorite installation of this series so far. i'm giggling and kicking my feet, and i'm the one writing it lmfao. azriel is making me WEAK, i need to lay down now. let me know what you think! thank you for reading <3

tag list: @stressed-reader @vhjlucky13 @scarsandallaz @victory-salads @weirdo-fun @topaz125 @mrsjna @lovegoodlunaa @lilah-asteria @andreperez11 @luna9876 @kennedy-brooke

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[blank-slate-jay]

Shared Warmth

Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Summary: Joel brings reader to an abandon home, that he wants to call home for the two of you. Something erotic in Joel ensues seeing you in just your underwear.

Tags: Smut (18+), Anal, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Pet Names, Dom!Joel, Fluff, Established Relationship, no use of (y/n)

A/N: Longest fic I've ever written so far. I don't know how I managed to conjure this! Could've split this into two parts, but decided this is better as one post to make this more cohesive. Enjoy!

AO3! | Reposts are much appreciated!

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"You'll see," is what you had received.

A response with very little context, a saying with many different meanings.

You didn't know what to make of this, sitting behind him on the horse with your arms around his waist, you genuinely felt left in the dark. It was very much like Joel to leave you questioning the tones under his voice. Most of the time it was just Joel being Joel, being the closed off man that he was. But the man was in a very good mood, deliberately mocking your naivety with a chuckle.

You sighed, "where are you taking me", saying it more toward yourself than to Joel. Being nearly a day away from Jackson, the question was a reasonable one. After all, what purpose was there to go beyond Jackson for? A gated community was a blessing in times like these, and yet strangely for you, something felt off. Living there has made you feel out of place, made your relationship with Ellie and Joel seemly less meaningful. Perhaps being in a safe haven, with so many people, wasn't truly what you sought.

Bizarre for sure that if you say it out loud, you knew people would call you crazy. You yourself felt you might’ve lost your mind. However, you can’t deny your feelings. Those days, weeks, and months traveling with Joel and Ellie across the country - those were some of the best times you've had even with the looming danger around every corner.

Regardless of what was going through your head, you weren't complaining, being back out into the world. The orange glow of the sun only served to emphasize this notion, piercing through the branches just above your head. It created this relaxing setting, one you can bask in for an unhealthy amount of hours.

"Do you have an idea of where we might be goin'," Joel asked.

Cruel. Just damn cruel, asking you a question you knew he'd leave open ended. Still, you played along.

"I’m assuming it’s pretty big,” after relaying that the man hums finally providing you with a clue, even if its unspecified. “…and that you aren’t playing some trick on me. So, a mall?”

“Try again.”

“A museum?”

“Nope…”

You let out a frustrated grunt, wishing the ladder were true. “Lake?”

Joel took longer to respond, “Mmm,” the man thought about it. “Not quite, it’s close by, but not important.”

You scoffed, placing your head on his shoulder, unsure of what he has disclosed so far is true or not, "Should I already know what it is?" Maybe that'll give you the upper hand.

"I doubt you'd guess this," Joel responses.

"So I'm guessing that a no then?"

The older man nods, turning his head to you before replying with a, 'Yeah'. There was no use in trying by that point. The constant persistence wasn't doing you both any favors. Joel probably had a reason to keep it secretive, so why spoil it? Knowing ahead would've made the trip less intriguing, if not boring. And on the bright side, what'll come will actually be a surprise.

Rather than playing into Joel's trickery you let it go, lifting your head back up, "Alright you won, I forfeit."

"Finally givin' up."

You reply, “I think I have too. I’ve ran out of ideas,” you lied just exhausted by the mind tricks, “Unless you want me to keep going?”

Joel partly wanted you to continue, to get back at you for all the times you fucked with him. He was starting to understand the fun in it now and why you did it to him. He settled for one more jab at you, “Will you get it a right this time?”

"Shut it" you giggle, bumping the man's thighs with your legs. Your comment did do the trick, as Joel fell silent after your remark. You could tell the man was smiling though; his rising cheek gave it away. Some of you was certainly rubbing off onto him, to know the man was now more comfortable with you was flattering.

Joel then reaches down for your leg, placing his hand right over your kneecap, caressing it like it was precious. “Don’t worry now, sugar. We’ll be there shortly.”

His considerate touch, that softness in his voice. Those two components together were enough to send a warm feeling throughout your body. How easy Joel could just captivate you by his touch alone, you guessed that was just how love worked.

You nodded your head as if he could see you, humming to acknowledge his words. Again you laid your head against him, face now between the back of his bare neck and the collar of his blue shirt. Closing your eyes, you let yourself listen to the sounds of nature around you to pass the time.

---

Sometime later, you found yourself opening your eyes to the sound of Joel's voice. Your vision, well adjusted to the growing darkness of dusk, focused on the dirt path some feet away.

"We're here," Joel says, spiking your interest enough to get your full attention. You lean back from the man's frame, hands rubbing the bags under your eyes.

Taking a look at the dirt path, you gaze in both direction. One leading deeper into the forest and the other extended out into a clearing. You confusingly study the area, unable to spot anything of interest. No water, no structure, not even a tree with any unique properties. You couldn't help feeling a bit bewildered, some of that feeling escaping through your lips with a quick 'Umm'. Stealing a glance at Joel's side profile, you tried reading what little you could see of his face.

He nods, "Good. You're awake. It's just this way," he explains, spurring the horse to get them moving in the direction of the dirt path.

Huffing in relief you spoke, "Phew, not gonna lie you almost got me there," thinking Joel might've been toying with you still. He turns his head to you, claiming that he wasn't going to bring you out there for nothing. If the man had told you that some time ago, you would have a hard time believing him.

Trotting forward, the horse comes into close proximity of the tree lines. Just on the other side you could barely see something faint between the leaves; a building of sorts. By what you could see the distance made it difficult to tell with the addition of nature covering your view. The universe really made things difficult for you. For what what it was worth, you were sure Joel didn't want you to see it until you stepped out into the open field. Still, the suspense was killing you.

This wasn't going to last any longer as Joel turns the horse right into the clearing. The tree's now finally out of view, you were hit with the red beam from the sun, blinded by your curiosity and in exchange being blinded by the sun in return.

You squint some, grunting as your gaze trailed around the perimeter. There was lots of tall grass, a noticeable transition compared to the on's just behind them. It stretched far beyond what your eyes could already see. Of course your mind was then caught up by the building some distance away.

There was a house. Someone's house. A house, that looked to be in good conditions. Surprisingly the lone tree just beside it has yet to infect the home with any vines. It made you believe that someone had to have lived here not too long ago. That person was one lucky bastard to have that home to themselves, you thought, imagining how nice the interior had looked.

"Ain't that something", Joel spoke, pretending as if it was his first time being there.

You comment, "Looks lively." A good point compared to everything the two of you had seen on the way there.

But Joel corrected you, "It's empty actually, has been for awhile". You let out a quick 'Huh', taking in his words, further scanning the house. The sidings are a tinted white, slightly scrapped on some parts of the wall. The dark colored roof, contrasting with the siding, made the home brighter than it already seemed. The house stood tall, two stories at most based off the windows, with the first floor being linked with the porch.

It was both funny and disheartening how attached you felt to this home already compared to the one you, Joel, and Ellie shared in Jackson. You kill to live in a home like this, not that you hated your existing home, just this one felt...right to you. Exterior alone, it reminded you of your old house pre-outbreak.

"Can we go in," you asked. A silly question, like you needed Joel's permission to enter the desolate property.

Joel responded sarcastically, dragging out the phrase "Nooo", with his gruffy voice. You knew he was only kidding and was now becoming intrigued by what was inside. Even so, the invasive feeling creeping up your stomach didn't go away yet. You looked around, taking in a full scope of the area. You trusted Joel of course, something that had improved since you first met. But your vigilant, alert mind hadn't shifted in the slightest; only improved thanks to being with Joel.

You turn your head around, looking behind you and at the edges of the tree lines to ensure that no one was following or coming. Like it even mattered, Joel had already assured your safety. You guessed it was better safe than sorry.

With your head now facing to the left, you gaze over to the far side of the field. So far that walking there would be ineffective. The field, a tad bit sloped, dragged on into the distance stretching too far for you to even consider. The sun made the entire sight something you'd see only from a painting or photograph. Sure enough, Joel wasn't lying from earlier when he confirmed there was a lake, just far off at the ends of the slope.

Joel steady the horse, grabbing the reins tightly to slow her down to a halt. "Alright," the man sighed. You let go of his waist as he began to move, his boots shaking the stirrups while he steps down from the horse. He then reaches his hand up to you. You gladly took it, allowing the man to pull you down.

You thanked him, a small smile stretching across the side of your face as you looked at the older man. He reciprocated your gesture with a smile of his own, one that made the wrinkles near his eyes stand out. He didn't have to mutter a word for you to know that he heeds your words.

The man turned his attention then to the horse, letting go of your hand in the process. He grabbed the reins and moved the horse over to tie it up to on of the porch's pillars. While he does so, you made your way up the few stairs, the wood creaking beneath your shoes.

Your hands trailed along the rails, rough and also smooth against your skin. Your eyes darting up and down the walls. Closely the walls looked more worn down, not too badly but could use some improvement.

You turned to look back at Joel who was slinging his bag over his shoulder. The man brushes his hand by your arm and passes by you. He walked up to the door before pushing it open. He moves his back agains the open frame, "Come".

Peaking inside for a moment, there was no way the house was empty like Joel had inferred. "Empty, huh. Doesn't look the way to me.", you look at the man with a snarky look on your face.

He looked unfazed by your humor, the man's face falling a bit flat. It reminded you of the times he'd looked at you after having to endure some of your playful banter. Those times were fun back when you traveled the country together with Ellie.

"Get in" he insisted, sounding annoyed but also seconds away from chuckling.

You don't push your luck and brush by the man still with that look on your face as you pass by him. To wipe that look off your face, Joel smacks your backside causing you to yelp; biting his lips in sync. It was a bastard move, but you weren't complaining. Looking back at him was either rewarding or a mistake cause he was making the face you familiarizes yourself with, best described as hunger. God. Choosing your next action carefully was smart cause anything that insight him to grab and kiss you, would lead to something more...erotic.

Not giving into temptation, you turn your attention to the living space ahead, balling your hand into a fist and squeezing it with the other hand. "This is...quite the place," you stated, stepping further into the home. You weren't kidding. The place had an aura very reminiscent of a cabin, the amount of woodwork around the living room alone gave you that impression. However, the house looked and felt homey all the same.

You walked up to a small craved out sculpture, shaped like a bull, placed above the small fire place. While inspecting it's form you brought up a question, "How'd you find all this?"

"Me and Tommy we're riding out", he started as the man trailed over to the wall to place his bag down, "And I wanted to do some more exploring but Tommy wanted to go back. So I let him and luck would have you..," the man finishes by raising his arms up some like he was revealing something grand, "...got my hands on this."

You nod, looking away from him to fiddle with the small bull, "Cool, it's like a comfy outpost. I like it". You then used the bull like a pointer, motioning it in the man's direction, "You weren't gonna hold out on us were you?"

Joel shook his head, making his way over to you. "Firstly this isn't a toy," he says, grabbing the small figure out of your hand. He places it back into its original spot before resuming, "And secondly, I was going to tell you, specifically just you about this place."

He was? You raised an eyebrow in question, wondering what significance a place like this would even have. It wasn't somewhere you'd visited with Joel before, nor was it a house that held any meaning to you prior to arriving. So what gives? "Just me", you muttered.

The man smirked some, finding it adorable how dumbfounded you appeared. He stepped closer to you, close enough to where you could feel the warm heat from his nostrils flaring against your face. “Yeah, just you”, he repeated, his voice now closer to a whisper. 

You could feel his hand grasping at yours as you kept your eyes locked with his. “I’m sorry, I feel I’m missing something here”. The man, obviously still listening, lifts your hand up to his own face, gently rubbing it against his cheek. His scruffy beard, pricked your palm as you cupped the man’s face. 

The man wondered if he should even answer. Your palm, tender against his rough skin nearly made him forget how to speak. Made him almost forget what you had even asked. He had held it longer than he should've, feeling slightly guilty for holding something like this off from you. He felt you inquired more than enough today. 

With your palm, slowly being squished between the man's hand and cheek he explains, "I got this for us. At Tommy's...I know things have been different between us since we got there. We, spend a lot of time outside of town, sometimes don't even spend time with each other much anymore. I thought it'd be nice to have our own space again, you know away from...everything. When I found this it just clicked for me. Felt like we could call this place home."

Your face was at ease, hearing him say what had been on your mind, spiked your attraction to the man further than you thought was possible. Every word, every sentence hit the mark for you. For a moment, you could swear he had to have read your mind at some-point. Either that or being with you had made it easy to determine what was bothering you. Regardless, having a place faraway for yourselves sounded too good to deny, especially when it was exactly what you wanted.

You couldn't quite put your thoughts into words, simply letting out a confused giggle, unsure of how to follow up on Joel's reveal.

Joel takes notice of this, captivated once more by your expression. He then breaks the silence, "You've asked a whole of questions. Now let me ask you this, how do you feel about living here with me, sunshine."

You nodded immediately, maybe a bit too quickly and possibly too eagerly. "I'd...love to," the words finally falling out of your mouth.

The man response, turning his head some to kiss your palm between an utter, "Good." His lips softly trailed down, like he was following the curved lines on your hand. Each kiss felt delicate, purposeful, each with some kind of meaning supposedly. That was just within Joel's transcended mind, he couldn't help himself, he got lost quickly whenever he'd feel your touch.

You leaned yourself forward, pulling your hand away from his mouth to wrap it around the back of his neck. Tugging him forward you embrace him, finding his hips as a comfortable spot to rest your free hand. No surprise, Joel indulged, pulling you into his arms too.

The two of you stood for some time, merely appreciating and savoring the moment of intimacy. You didn't think any words could pinpoint how much you loved Joel. Not even the word ‘loved’ felt like it was doing him justice. It was beyond that.

“What did I do to deserve you," he mutters above your ear.

“Luck," you say.

He hums, knowing it to be true but hating the notion of life without you, fighting for you made it all worth something, made it mean something. He made small circles around your back, just being grateful he had you now, thankful that you made it to this point to be there in his arms.

"I'm making dinner," Joel says, catching you off guard for a moment. "Got the ingredients for your favorite."

You knew what he was talking about, it was meal you'd two shared before and you couldn't keep quiet about your enjoyment of the dish, even while eating the damn thing.

Luck would have you, again, you were about to experience that meal again.

---

You turned the running faucet of the soothing shower off, grabbing the towel just off the shower's hinges to wrap yourself in its warmth. Stepping out the tub, you began to dry yourself, wiping away all the sweat you'd built up after leaving Jackson. Once knowing this new place had running water, you were quick to jump for the shower, never skipping the opportunity to get yourself clean.

Joel was just downstairs prepping dinner for the two of you. You wondered if it was already finished since you spent way too long wandering the upstairs plane; checking the available rooms before finding the shower. You were sure it wasn't even done yet since Joel would've called out for your name by that point.

Wiping away the last remnants of water, you threw on some spare clothing, a shirt and just your underwear, from your backpack before stepping out the restroom. The cooler air hit your body, nothing you wouldn't accept since the season was a lot warmer; spring.

You made your way into the master bedroom. In this case, your shared room with Joel. Not much was in it. Compared to the other bedroom, which hosted nothing at all, this one at least had a bed and a few dressers. You weren't complaining since the room felt less compacted and more freeing.

Walking into the room you toss your towel onto the bed, taking in the open space, a stark contrast to your room back in Jackson. The thought of what you could implement to this room had your mind racing momentarily. Like what you could put within the corners or whether you should put any entertaining devices in the room. Maybe not the last part probably cause Joel would advise keeping those contained to the living room.

It got you pretty thrilled thinking about what you could do in general now that you weren't limited to a communities resources. This of course meant you didn't have as much to work with, but everything you gathered would or could be used to further improve your new home.

You started comparing your home back in Jackson to the one you have here. Down to it's interior, format, and spacing. You thought about the kitchen, dinning area, your shared room, Ellie's room. Ellie. Again you thought about her, a realization hitting you in the process. 'Fuck' you sighed under your breath. So caught up and enthralled by a nice change of environment, you hadn't even thought about her wellbeing.

At the moment, she was at Tommy and Maria's place, likely giving them a hard time as you'd expect. The usual for Ellie. But being so far away from her, not being there for her made you somewhat fazed; a pinch of disgrace too. That girl was tough and she needed to grow up around people to understand what it's like to live. But on the other hand, she'd follow you and Joel to the ends of the earth, she said it herself.

Throughout the wave of thoughts, washing within your head, you were by the window now. Hands perched up on the dresser just below the glass's border. The spot made for a great place to reflect. Perhaps this would be a good position to do it, overlooking the grassy plains, it gave your head a hub place to ponder.

If it weren't for you being lost in your thoughts, you would've been aware of the man standing by the door frame watching you; completely out of eyesight. Joel, leaning up on the frame with his arm, exhales an exaggerated sigh to catch your attention.

You turn, startled by the sudden noise. Realizing it was just Joel you relaxed. "You almost gave me a heart attack," you joked.

His presence definitely lightened you up, giving you something to distract yourself from any thoughts running in your head. You'd talk out how to settle Ellie's situation with Joel, it'll work out; you knew it would with Joel by your side.

"Sorry" he started, his eyes gazing upon your exposed legs. "Dinner's ready."

You nod, "Alright. I'll be down in a bit."

You thought after relaying this to Joel, that he'd leave and wait for you downstairs. But he didn't move, his figure remaining still as his eyes stayed focus on you. He nods too, but it seemed more that he did it subconsciously since his eyes weren't locked with yours.

The look was back and more prominent than ever. The dark look that you avoided earlier, was calling out for you to let him have you. Mixed with the half smile across his face made for a deadly combo.

You tried being clever, looking about the room to see if your bag was in sight. It wasn't, but you were sure it was still in the restroom after changing out your clothes. "I'm gonna grab my pants, really quick-"

"You don't have to" Joel says, his fingers playing with his nails. "I think you look fine already."

Failed, you tried getting to see if the man would hold off, tried keeping him at bay at least until you both were in bed. But no, you only drew more attention to your undergarments. To make matters even worse, Joel's gruff voice had caused a twitch between your legs. A slight growth a hardness, noticeable by both of you.

Joel bit his lips, taking his weight off of the door, "You're not too hungry, right?"

This was the one time where choosing your words carefully would be wise at the moment. However, you felt there was no turning back now. He wanted you, now. And you wanted him more. You sheepishly shook your head, "Not really", finally falling for the man's glare.

While you spoke, Joel already had closed the gap between you too, looking into your eyes for a moment. He hooks the front of your trousers with his finger, pulling you closer to him until his lips were locked with yours. You inhaled deeply, feeling a tingle shake your spine.

He cups the sides of your face, passionately parting his lips to slide his tongue inside. Fast as Joel was to get things going, you accepted. The warmth elevated by the mixing of each others taste made the tightness in your underwear uncomfortable.

Joel's huffs deeply into the kiss, his grip, grew stronger with each passing second. His weight started to shift your stance, causing you to back up until you hit the dresser behind you. You grunted against his mouth, not letting the movement stop you from continuing to brush your tongue against his.

Both moaning and breathing heavily, you grab at his collar shirt, playing with one of the buttons to get it open. You tried getting him to undress, a chance taken from you when he grabs your wrist tightly. The man wanted nothing but to feel your skin against his own. He wanted to savior the moment. He liked the build up, he loved the anticipation.

His hands were free from your face, but they soon started invading your shirt. He rampaged through it, running them around your shirt before sticking them in by your sides. You tremble at his touch. His hand created a warm sensation on your skin, reminding you of the times he’d draw circles on your back whenever you’d lay in bed together.

For you, gripping his jawline pulled you two closer, crotches colliding too. It peaked Joel’s interest, his eyebrows raising between the groans against your lips. Joel’s jeans made it difficult to tell, but it was clear you were hard, just as hard as he was. That got him to smile into the kiss, proud he could get you really erect quickly.

You parted your lips from his, only a few inches apart. You used the moment to catch some air, something you knew you wouldn't be granted later the further you proceed.

You questioned his smile, "What?" "Nothing," he says, his accent rolling off the tip of his tongue. "Just you". He waits a moment before throwing himself back into the fray, wanting your lips to be sealed with his.

Aggressive, he pushes you harder against the dresser, unintentionally crushing you moments before dipping down to grab your legs and halting you onto the wooded surface. The dresser creaked, not adapted to a person being onto but that didn't concern either of you. The man caress your thigh, slow and aimlessly, while his other hand yanked at the front of your underwear once more.

He wanted you to take them off so badly and you didn't waste a moment. You shook yourself, getting enough room under you to slip them off. Joel helped, his steaming breath hitting your slowly exposing skin made you pick the pace up. He help fully get them off, letting the cloth hit the ground. His gaze fixed on your now exposed erection made him forget to breathe.

“Now your turn”, you said.

Rubbing his hands down your legs, he reaches down for his zipper to unbuckled his pants. His belt clicked and his pants loosened, dropping everything done to the floor with a thud. He swiftly took his underwear off too, slipping it fully off and sliding everything off to the side with his feet.

You let out a shaky exhale, your eyes so baffled by how hard his cock was; rock solid and strictly standing upward. Your started pondering if you could even take it. Under these conditions you would have to take him raw. There had to be something to use, you thought something to make it easier for him.

“Hey”, Joel’s voice soft on your ears. He tilts your head up to hold your gaze, “Eyes on me.” He slowly caresses the features on your face, adoring just how amazing your eyes looked and how kissable your lips were. Those lips, looking at them intently he slips his thump across the bottom half. He wanted to nibble on them, gently bite to leave a mark on them; to leave evidence of his pass doings.

He used his other hand to play with your cock, making sure you were staying hard for him. You assisted him with your palm overlapping his; working in unison. It was subtle and worked to keep you both pleasured while focusing on the man.

Joel dipped his finger between your lips, “Open your mouth, baby”. Your lips separated and he slid his finger in. A bitter taste hit the roof of your mouth as he swirled his finger around. “Get it nice and wet for me. Gonna need it for the hole of yours.”

So this was the alternative. Normally you and Joel would talk about using some sort of cream for sex. With seemingly none around to use, your mouth would have to do. You started sucking on his finger for a bit, his thick finger, took up a good portion of your mouth. Not enough to suffocate like his cock, but enough to make you think about how to manage your tongue’s movement. After the first finger he switched it out for another, a small line of saliva leaking out every time he’d pull out.

Three finger were soaked now, three fingers you were sure would break you, more than his cock would. You shiver, trying to estimate the width of his fingers with that of his cock. It served no purpose other than question your capabilities. What good did that do you, especially now?

Joel releases your cock, and trails his hands down to your balls. You knew where he was headed, this wasn’t your first rodeo with Joel. You lifted your leg up, leaning back onto one elbow to keep yourself upright. Joel effortlessly threw your hovering leg over his shoulder, getting a view of what he’d been dying to see. Your hole, albeit at an angle was still visible and accessible which was the only thing that mattered to Joel.

The man, looked to your eyes for conformation, he wanted to make sure you were ready. There wasn't a hint of denial in your face, Joel loved that look.

Coming into close contact, he circles around your entrance. His rough fingers toyed with your hole, allowing the sensations to prepare you for his soon to come entry. God the feeling alone was making you wish he just put himself inside you, knowing it might hurt but still wanting him to push deep in.

No longer waiting, Joel pushes a finger inside, slowly. You narrowed your brows, the walls of your ass being breached caused a slight spark in your stomach. His finger slid relatively easily, getting your breathing to become shakier than before. It was nothing you couldn't take and his finger was satisfying, it might've been enough to make you cum. His second finger though, made itself known too, pushing in with the first.

You winced, wishing Joel had warned you. Two thick fingers inside was about right, it felt about the size of Joel's cock at it's hardest. Staying with this rhythmic push and pull inside your hole made you believe you were ready for him to fuck you. But one other finger remained, one still damp and set to go.

A yelp escaped your lips feeling the third join the other two. It hurt for sure, causing you to throw your head back as a jolt reaction. You bump the glass pane behind you, the light outside barely shining onto the side of your face. You reached up to grab at Joel's collar, the fabric bringing some level of comfort with it's pure softness.

"Relax..." the man groans.

Fuck you wanted to, but how could you when the man was expanding your ass with every thrust. It made you grip his collar tightly as you kept your eyes tight to prevent it a tear from falling. The feeling was both painful and enjoyable, the tingles running up your stomach never ceased and neither did the sting in your hole.

You started to tell, no, insist that he fuck you. It escaped your mouth through a whine, a part of you wanting him to just remove a finger or two to let you relax. You knew it had purpose, you knew why he was pushing your limits. The longer you held, the easier it would be for him to push himself inside of you. Still you begged, "Please...Joel...take me, just fuck me."

Through your closed eyelids you couldn't see the man, shamelessly smirking, "Oh yeah? Tell me how bad you want it, sugar pie."

You gasp, "Bad".

He groans, "Yeah?". He licks his lips, "Want me to go really deep in there, want to me fuck you real good."

"Uh...huh"

He pushes fingers deeper than usual "How badly?"

You gasped, "Really fucking bad. FUCK".

Joel groans, acknowledging your plead. If you wanted it that badly, he wish you told him sooner. He pulls his fingers out, the sounds of your hole getting him excited. It was wet now, just the way he liked it. In one swift motion, Joel flings your other, idle leg over his shoulder and yanks you forward until your backside was against his crotch. His cock, bumping into your balls got another sound out of you.

You relax into the dresser the best you could, letting your elbows rest and leaning your head back until it was laying against the glass again. It wasn't the most comfortable positions for your neck, you didn't pay much mind to this though as Joel began running his hands up your thighs. With your legs so close to his face, he also started leaving kisses and bite marks you knew would be visible the next day. He wasn't about to let you off without at least some marking, whether it'd be visible later or hidden by your clothes didn't concern him.

Breathing hard against your skin, his gaze turns back to his hard-on. He reaches for it, while overlooking your body. He lines it up to your hole pushing, not inside of you yet, but rather around the exterior.

Again with the teasing, you thought, wanting to roll your eyes but refusing to try. Did the man not tire of his own nonsense? You shifted your hip toward his cock, physically telling him to knock it off and shove it in you.

He locks eyes with you then, seeing your desperate and longing expression. You chewed down on your lips, seeing how the man's eyes had darken since last you laid upon them. He just smirked, looking down between your legs before pushing himself in.

It hurt but not as much as his fingers. The aftermath of those three invaders acted as a testament to how well you could still take the man in strides. For what it was worth, they did make it easier for him to slide into you.

He slipped in and out easily, smooth like butter. His thrust started methodically, getting familiar with your hole's interior again. He groaned, his cock pulsating against the edges, trying to find your sweet spot.

He wasn't able too, it wasn't that easy. You had laid there making hush moans that could only be audible for anyone within the room. It was striking and incredibly hot to Joel hearing you try to conceal your voice. It came off is if you were going to burst, like you were going to scream out his name, that was something else entirely.

Thinking about it gave him a surge, a rush that rapidly increases his pace. His hips smacking up against your ass, created a sound that vibrated your body. Each smack, was music to the man's ears, meld together now with your rising grunts. It probably was the best thing he'd ever heard.

You were losing it on the other hand. Your body trembled, your eyes became hazy, your mind completely in shambles; a mess best described it all. So much so that you had no idea what was even happening, questioning what was even real.

Were you becoming stupid with each thrust or did you completely lose your mind to him. His strides were beginning to make you see stars, more pleasing than the ones you'd see in the sky. A sudden overwhelming feeling rushes from your stomach all the way to your head, the strongest sensation you've felt all day. It made you feel light, like you had been consumed by the clouds.

This strange halt in your mind lasted for a minute before coming back from being on autopilot. You were semi-confused as your body was on a softer surface now. Your body lays flat, Joel's entire weight on top of you. Your senses were coming back to you.

The dresser was no longer your resting place but rather it was now the bed. Joel had lifted you up moments ago, still inside you, and crashed you both onto the mattress. Surprisingly that didn't snap you out of it, but what was even more confusing was the wetness near your stomach, just in between your stomach and Joel's. It was quite sticky. Wait, you stopped your mind from racing, ignoring Joel's rough groans in your ears for a second. You already came, you totally did. Your cock didn't feel restrained nor was it in any desire need to let loose any longer.

Shit, you thought, not realizing the man had satisfied you. You got lost in thought due to him hitting your sweet spot, it explained why your mind went into a frenzy. The feeling sent you over the edge again, jolting you back to reality this time; he hit it again.

You cry out as a response.

"Fuck, I'm gonna blow, I'm gonna fucking blow". Joel groaned.

You couldn't speak a word, it was too much, too much to bear. You dug your nails into the back of his shirt and pulled him closer with your legs around his waist. Your strength was dwindling, and you didn't have the voice to tell him to finish. If he kept it up any longer you were surely gonna cum again.

Joel's voice was deafening against your ears, his rhythm completely erratic and harsh against your hole. He went all out, posting himself up onto his elbows and thrusting into you like it was his last. He could feel the sharpness on his back, a deep sting from you nails pushing further into his skin. He watched as tears rolled down your face, wanting nothing but to wipe them away. He was right there, he could feel it rising up.

A few more rough thrusts did the trick. Joel grunted, holding his breath for a second as his cock convulsed before blowing. It came out fast, faster than he expected, squirting strings of cum in succession against your interior. He squinted his eyes, as he came quickly back down to your neck.

Joel's cock had settled, just as the two of you were. Exhausted beyond belief, you felt weak, one of your slipping off the man's back. You both relish in each other's touch, your breaths becoming steady at last.

The man's body shifts, causing you discomfort from still being inside of you. He reaches down to pull out, a quiet groan breaking free from your sealed lips. He used his other hand to cup and rub your cheek, his way of showing his gentleness after the affair. The man's cum oozed out, running down onto the mattress. You could feel how wet and loose it had become. Compared to the last time Joel had fucked you, you weren't as messy as you were now.

He then looked over to the side, seeing the towel you had used from earlier. He grabs it and wipes away the stains on your stomach.

You let out a sigh followed by locking eyes with Joel. They looked a lot more calmer, vibrant even just by his soothing demeanor.

As he finished wiping you clean the corner of his lips rose, "We should go eat."

Just like that, he had nothing left to say, acting as if nothing just happened. You scoffed at how quick the man could go from wanting to devour you to being a sensual man who wanted to give you the world. You weren't ready to rise from your position, not yet. You yank the towel out of his grasp before pulling him back down onto you.

Dinner can wait, just a bit longer.

[cutesyscreenname]

A Cowboy Like Me : Chapter 2

What Must It Be Like

Chapter 1

Series summary:

I've had some tricks up my sleeve

Takes one to know one

You're a cowboy like me

Javier Peña is a playboy, sleeping his way across Bogotá, never settling down. And he's used to being the only one. What happens when he meets his match? A friendly challenge between friends couldn't hurt, could it? Unless that friend is you...

Chapter Summary: Javier thinks over everything that happened at the bar as he and Steve get you home. He shouldn't be feeling like this...

Pairing: Javi Peña x f reader

Rating: 18+ minors DNI

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: drinking, hangover, language, angst 😉

Notes: So this is turning into a much longer endeavor than originally intended 😂 I thought it would only be a few parts but I capped this bad boy at 3k and we only made it halfway to where I thought we would. The next one will likely be even longer so hopefully y'all are down for it.

Here is the song mentioned at the end (there's no canon for it but I feel like Javi would have a few records from the 70's he brought from home and Santana would be one of them):

And the full playlist:

What must it be like to grow up that beautiful?

With your hair falling into place like dominoes

My mind turns your life into folklore

I can't dare to dream about you anymore

From the moment your eyes closed until you reached the parking lot of your shared apartment building there was no sound but the dull rumble of the engine and a gentle crooning over the radio.

Javier leaned his dark curls against the headrest, staring straight ahead but seeing nothing in front of him.

Steve’s eyes flickered over to his friend with concern but he held his tongue. The man was a million miles away, gears turning so quickly behind his eyes Steve swore he could hear the faint sound of metal scraping over itself in a desperate grind.

A cowboy. Like him.

I do what Javi does.

I'll prove it to you.

I hear it every time I try to sleep.

You're declarations float around Javier's mind in a jumble, a record that someone keeps lifting and dropping the needle onto at random.

You were a tricky one, no doubt about it. It’s why he liked you, why he wanted your friendship. Smart but not pretentious, guarded yet forgiving, sure footed but still a little reckless, and the biggest heart that you thought no one could see. Maybe they couldn’t, but he could.

He had imagined your romances before; tentative coffee dates, sweet kisses shared in taxis, most of your suitors left disappointed aside the select few who manage to be invited up for a night cap.

He had supposed not even these lucky finalists would prove to meet the standard for dating you longer than a week, a month tops, nor should they. The man you would keep long enough to mention, to bring to drinks, to invite for dinner at Steve and Connie’s, he couldn’t build such a human in his mind’s eye.

Javier had posited all of this and a million other things but none of his thoughts matched what you had just divulged.

Entertaining my companions.

Like Javi does.

The evening in review plays on the projector screen of his hippocampus.

Quick like a bunny, sweetheart, or I won't tip ya.

Even though it was for the sake of a deprecating joke, you’d never called him sweetheart before that night. It made his ears burn and he’d practically bolted to the bar to hide the involuntary flush sure to be staining his cheeks.

Pinche mocosa, he’d thought to himself, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. The smart little mouth on her.

Later in the evening you’d groaned when Javi appeared with three tequila shots in hand.

‘Come on, we don’t have to be at the office tomorrow. Plus, Steve is a better conversationalist when I’m drunk.’

With a ‘good point' from you and ‘fuck you both’ from Steve the three of you licked salt from your hands, kicked back the poison, and pressed your teeth into limes like sucking venom from a snake bite.

His gaze couldn’t help but linger on the way your flat tongue slid across the skin between your thumb and forefinger to collect the salt crystals, his breath hitching when your lips rolled over the edge of the citrus rind as you sucked the juice from it’s flesh.

A deer in the headlights, he’d been snapped from his reverie by the man across from him.

‘Ooooo-wee. I’m switchin’ to beer after this. Someone’s gotta get you two geniuses back home later.’

‘Awww, thanks dad.’ You’d said ruffling Steve’s hair.

After your glass had emptied and refilled once and then twice more, Steve started poking the bear to amuse himself, going after the way the drink colored your words with a heavy Texas twang.

Javier relished in it, your lilting voice drawing him in like a moth to a porch light. It felt nostalgic, like the polaroid of his mamá that rested between the pages of the book on his nightstand; intimate, like a secret piece of you, buried beneath the Gulf Coast clay, awaiting your return home.

Ever the co-conspirator, you followed his lead to help him land a crude joke. Not his finest, but enough to make you laugh which was plenty for him. Then something shifted.

‘Oh it’s what they ALL say, I hear ‘em every time I try to sleep at my place.’

You’d tormented the man about his noise level before. Hell, just that morning you'd been playfully ribbing him for it. It’s not like Javier tried to keep it down. He could hear the creak of your wicker ceiling fan when he lay in his own bed chasing sleep.

The paper thin walls between you concealed nothing. Sometimes Javier swore he could hear you thinking too hard on the other side of the studs and drywall. So it stood to reason that no matter what he did to dampen the lewd soundtrack you’d hear it, and if he couldn’t shield you from it he figured it was moot to even try.

The tone in your voice tonight, though, it was different. Still playful, still antagonistic, but there was a rough undercurrent slipping through. If it weren’t for Steve’s uncanny knack for levity, Javi might have gotten caught in the undertow.

‘Girl’s out to catch Escobar all on her lonesome.’

A solid deflection but you spurred on.

I do like Javi does.

A cowboy.

Like me.

I’ll prove it.

His mind was reeling, trying to amend the portrait of you in his mind. It felt impossible. You must have been fucking with them. He was really feeling the alcohol, more intoxicated than he’d been in a long while. He was reading it wrong. Back to the script. Back to the game.

‘I don’t fuckin believe you, cariño.’

If you thought he wouldn’t call your bluff you had another thing coming. With all the cool and confidence he could muster, Javier dug his heels in even more.

‘In fact I think you’re home every night. Ear pressed to my fuckin wall, apparently.’

Yup. That would do the trick. The point goes to Agent Peña. But no-

A wave of anger flashed across your eyes, making Javier’s throat run dry.

I’ll prove it to you.

If his mind had been racing before, it short circuited when you took two of your delicate fingers and pressed them to the exposed skin of his chest. He couldn’t fight the shiver that ran through his body so he just hoped you hadn’t noticed it.

And then you- God. Fuck.

You reached up and tapped his cheek gently with your hand, your determined gaze softening just so as you peered up at him. He almost leaned into the touch. Get yourself together, Peña. She doesn’t see you like that. Goddamn tequila - una idea estúpida. He turned away from you, trying to collect his thoughts, but in his periphery he could see you were on the move.

Too sloshed to walk without stumbling, you’d swayed dangerously when you stood in pursuit of another drink. Acting on instinct, Javier had placed his steady, calloused hands around your waist. The warmth of your skin through your t-shirt seemed to creep up his fingers and send a searing current down his spine.

His hands stay curled around you for what feels like an eternity and he wonders when you’ll slap them away. To anyone that asked he’d say he had kept hold on you because he couldn't let you fall over. Really, though, he couldn’t let go if he’d tried, a man electrified, hands locked in place on the raw, exposed wire of your form.

He'd flashed a pleading look to Steve and nearly collapsed when the man took you by the hand, breaking the circuit.

He trailed behind as Murphy helped you to the car with a strong arm around your shoulders, taking the opportunity to run his hands over his face, trying to calibrate his thoughts. He sealed himself in the front passenger seat and slipped into silent thought as you slid your eyes closed.

The next sound Javi took note of was his friend’s voice.

“Jav- we’re here, man.” His tone was gentle and Javi couldn’t tell if he appreciated the care or resented what bordered on sounding like pity.

“Let’s get you both upstairs, be good to sleep it off a little.”

Javier nods, not moving at first as Steve glances at the back seat where you lay, still lost in slumber.

The man in the driver’s seat reaches back and gives you a firm shake, calling your name a handful of times before sighing.

“I’m gonna need your help getting her upstairs, bud.” Yup that was definitely pity, Javier decided.

Not wanting to prove the man right, whatever he was thinking, Javi exited the car briskly and opened the back door on the side opposite your head. Lifting your calves from the where they hung over the edge of the seat, he hooked his hands beneath the crooks of your knees and pulled you to the threshold.

When he chanced a quick look at your face he took note of how soft, how peaceful you looked. Would you even remember the night's events in the morning?

Steve moved to help but didn’t get the chance as Javier steeled himself and swiftly maneuvered you, first sitting you upright in the seat before lifting to carry you in front of him. One arm beneath your legs, the other supporting your back, and your head slumped drowsily into his shoulder, he steeled his expression and started toward the apartment wordlessly, Steve hustling to catch up and help with the door.

“Can you tell where her keys are at?”

Javi sighed as they reached the landing. Your warmth pressed into his torso and he found himself torn between wanting to hold you tighter, to soak it in, and needing to get as far from you as possible.

“Well her pockets are clearly empty, so I’m guessing she keeps ‘em next to her cash. Not sure about you, Murphy, but I’m not lookin’ to cop a feel of an unconscious woman.”

It was the smart move, keeping your pockets empty and stashing the necessities in your bra, but it was a hindrance at this moment.

“Yeah that’s a game of go fish no one would be pleased with. Alright. She can crash with me and Connie.” Javi gave a quick nod to acknowledge his friend and turned you both toward the Murphys' door.

The lock turned almost silently under Steve’s careful movements but the hushed entry proved unnecessary when they walked in to see his beautiful wife, Connie, standing at the kitchen counter.

“Hey gang.” Her voice was soft and warm, gently welcoming the three of you in as though it was home to you and Javier as well. “She okay?”

“Yeah, honey. Just can’t find her keys and-“

“Say no more.” She waves off the explanation.

As Javier settles you onto the couch, Steve steps into the kitchen to speak with her quietly.

“What are you doin’ up, baby?”

She matched his hushed tone, just low enough to evade Javi’s range of hearing.

“Well when I woke up a bit ago and you weren’t here I figured drinks ran late. I’m about to put the kettle on, I thought at least one of you could use some tea and aspirin.”

“Let’s skip the tea and leave her some aspirin. Javi’s in no shape for company. I’ll tell you later.”

She nodded while Steve went to fill a glass with water for you.

As if on cue, “Not that I don’t enjoy seeing you, Connie, but I’m gonna head out.”

He finished pulling a blanket over your limp frame, slowly turning toward them with apologetic eyes.

“ No worries, Javi. I’m on my way back to bed anyway. Thanks for helping Steve get her inside.” Her knowing smile had him feeling uneasy.

“Anytime.” He replied softly. He and Steve exchanged quick nods and Javier slipped from their dwelling to his own. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it with an exhausted sigh.

What was he even thinking? Why should he be bothered? There was no good reason.

You were his friend, perhaps his best friend, and he had learned a surprising fact about you. That was all. He had no right to be anything but slightly surprised, maybe amused.

He didn’t worry for your safety, he’d seen you take down grown men twice your size on the job. You could handle yourself, no problem.

And so what if you were chasing away your demons? Lord knows he does the same. Columbia was vast and humid. The underbelly of the drug trade held the country in its bloody grip, pressing in on you from all directions. The assignment was full of uncertainty and it left Javier so lonely in the silence of his government issued abode.

He would do anything to fill the empty spaces, to stave off the cold tendrils that would pull at the walls of his chest when he lied awake, freefalling through the dark skies of his mind until morning. He could never fault you for doing the same.

Slumping into the worn sofa, his eyes shut slowly. Nothing is wrong. I drank too much and I'm being dramatic. She doesn't even think of me that way. It's not a big deal.

Still, as the weight of the day sank into his bones, sleep beckoning softly, his mind drifted to your faint sigh as you had nuzzled into his neck in your sleep while Steve unlocked his front door. When he opened his eyes again it was morning.

You awoke with a low groan, a sharp pain throbbing a wild cumbia rhythm behind your eyes. What happened last night?

You cracked open one eye cautiously, then the other, thankful to find the room somewhat dim around you. Only the small lamp across the room from you was on, blinds and curtains muffling the sunlight that tried to peek through the window behind you.

Eyes adjusting quickly, you recognized the comfortable sight of the Murphys’ living room. It was the same exact layout as yours, but Connie’s warm touch made all the difference. The soft decorative pillows, kitschy knick knacks, and framed candid photos transformed the small unit into something that felt like a home.

Okay I'm on Murphy’s sofa. So- Your gaze finds the full glass of water and bottle of aspirin on the coffee table. The puzzle pieces begin to fit together quickly. Just as you start to recall what happened the night before, what you had said, Steve slipped out of his bedroom and noticed you stirring.

“Heyyy good morning. How ya feel?” Thankfully he kept his tone low, guessing the answer to his own question.

“I’ve been better.” You croak, sitting up gingerly.

“I thought that might be the case. You see the Aspirin? Connie made sure to close the curtains for ya.”

“Yes thank you.” You tap two pills into your palm and kick them back with a healthy glug of water. “Is there a chance I could have some-“

“Already on it.” Steve was moving to fill the coffee maker with water before you asked.

“Where is that angel you tricked into marrying you?”

“At the clinic, unfortunately. Somebody called in sick and they’re so shorthanded as it is. She said to give you her best and inform you that you’d better come for dinner soon.”

You raised your eyebrows as Steve raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, kid. I’m just quotin’. You know she won’t take no for an answer.”

You chuckled in reply.

Once your mugs were filled with rich black liquid, Steve placed them on the table in front of you, taking a seat on the sofa. You both sipped in silence for a few moments before you decided to break the ice.

“So…last night. Um. Did I-“ You did not want to ask but you needed confirmation. “Did I basically tell y’all all about my sex life in no uncertain terms?” You wince when you hear the words out loud.

“Well, my friend, in no uncertain terms… you said that Javi’s lady friends are so loud you can’t sleep so you conduct your own ah – activities – in other venues, namely the homes of your own dates.”

You groaned loudly and covered your face with your hands. It wasn’t a dream. You’d definitely made a tequila shaped mistake and said the in-your-head thing out loud.

“Do ya wanna hear the rest or should I just leave it be?”

“There’s MORE?” You didn’t want to ruminate, better to rip the band-aid off. “Let’s hear it.”

“Okay. So that, and then I guess Javi thought you were kiddin’ so he tried to push your buttons and you said somethin’ about provin’ it to him.”

The confirmation was all you needed, the words flooding back to you all at once.

Ear pressed to my fuckin’ wall apparently.

Ah yes, the anger. You were remembering quickly. Pendejo. Why wouldn’t he believe that about you? You weren't a delicate flower, some witless debutante in need of safekeeping. You were his friend and his fucking equal. Of course rubbing his nose in it seemed appealing, especially after so many drinks.

Polishing off the contents of your mug, you placed it on the table and stood, crossing to the door.

“I think I should go back to mine. I just-“

“Yeah. No. I get it.”

“Thanks for not diving for my keys, by the way. And ya know…everything else.” You smiled weakly at the man on the sofa.

“Yeah we, uh, figured that wouldn’t work out well. For all involved.” He chuckled. “As for the rest, anytime, kid. You know that.”

You nod and open the door. “I’ll call Connie soon.”

“Oh believe me, if you don’t she’ll be at your doorstep. She knows where ya live.”

You smiled, shaking your head. “Bye Murphy.”

Once alone in your apartment, you stripped off your jeans and t-shirt, collapsing on your bed as you vowed to shower after another round of sleep.

You could hear the faint sound of Javier’s record player, the muffled melody lulling you into relaxation.

I am just a mirage

Oh, I am just a mirage

When you look at me

Through your crystal glass you will see

That I am now your past

But you give your love to me

In your life I wasn’t meant to be.

Oh I am just a mirage

Oh I am just a mirage

Just a mirage fading away like water

The faint guitar licks pull you towards sleep like a receding tide carrying you out to sea. Even as you sink into slumber, you almost swear you can hear Javi thinking too hard on the other side of the paper thin wall.

Let me know if y'all wanna be on the tag list! I'll have one going as long as Tumblr cooperates 😂

@heythere-mel

[thetopichot]

•° The Middle Ground °•

☆ Chapter 1 ☆

*Runs on all fours* Hi SHIT I've been still working on this. Writer's block is a bitch. Anyway, *Throws this at you* enjoy. Also sorry if the food is little burnt, I wanted to pushed this out before the end of the month. *Runs away*

Word Count: 2.1k words

After the calamity that happened in the shop, you both went on that fall evening picnic date that you both planned awhile back. Finn absolutely adored fall since it's when he gets more inspired to cook his little pumpkin breads, more tea recipes, & he starts to get into his little hibernation phase which you always find adorable. You guys deserved it after a bit of a long day but with the questions that you still had in mind, might make it get even longer. You both prepared your little fall picnic under the park's willow tree with your checkered picnic blanket & a basket. You both laid back onto the blanket & began to gaze at the stars.

Finn sighed & fidgeted with his fingers as he stared at the stars in the sky. "Today has been a long day, hasn't it?" Finn broke the silence.

"Yeah it has." You answered awkwardly. You still felt bad about the situation that happened earlier today. "Hey, Finn?" Finn hummed in response.

"I'm sorry for what happened during the shop today. The dude...um damn. What was his name again, babe?" 

"Auron, darling."

"Yeah, Auron! That asshole really pissed me off." Well, apparently he pissed you off so much that you legit forgot about his name. "He is such a snobby prick & the way he treated you is just UGH. He treated you like you were just a damn peasant or like-"

"I was just there for one purpose?" Finn sat up on the blanket & curled his legs up. His face was exhausted, but he still had his soft smile. "Yeah, I know." You frowned at his voice. "You eventually get used to it when you work in service jobs. Your whole thing is just being a punching bag for people."

You sat up & leaned closer to Finn. "You have to deal with insults about almost everything. Like no matter what you do, it's always wrong. Then, eventually, you get used to the disrespect that is given, even though you always give them the respect that everyone deserves."

"That's just how service works. You deal with verbal abuse almost every day, but in the end, if you do anything about it, you're always in the wrong." Finn laid his head on top of his knees. "So I don't really care about what he said to me. It was just business." You rubbed his back.

"Finn. No one has the right to treat you like that. I don't care if they're a customer, friend, or family, no one should treat you like that ever. Period." You gently held his face in your palm & turned him to look at you. "Has Auron always treated you like that?"

Finn chuckled softly. "No. Not at all, actually." You were confused by the answer since that didn't really add up. "He actually treats me with the upmost respect. He enjoys hearing my flower facts. I just don't know why he acted out like that today."

"In a mood or not, he's still an asshole for saying that to you." You sighed. "Finn, you have to give yourself more self-respect. You're more than just a worker. You're a person." Then the long silence between you two began.

However, it wasn't really those long awkward silences. It was a silence of both thought & comfort. It was silence that was needed. As the silence went on, he stared at the black card that had been left by Auron earlier. The white font practically glowed in the moonlight. 

Why would he leave his card here? It was pretty obvious that Finn wouldn't be interested in getting a job since he already had one. Maybe you could call this number?

"Finn." He turned to look at you. You showed him the black card that you kept on you. "Let's call this number." He raised a eyebrow.

"Why?" He squinted to read the card. "Don't you already have a job already?" He paused to think. "Unless you're trying to juggle 3 jobs? Which I don't really recommend you doing. I tried to when I was helping my dad when it was his flower shop."

You shaked your head. "No? Maybe this might be his number?" Finn got even more confused.

"I doubt that, darling. That phone number could just lead to some operator at the end of the line & it's like what? 9 pm & it's a Sunday. Almost everything is closed right now!" Finn asserted.

"Hmmmm." You thought naught about the consequences & decided. "Yeah, I'm going to do it." Finn exhaled as there wasn't much he could do. "& maybe.." You added. "You could cuss him out for the way he treated you."

Finn was taken aback. "What? No! Why would I do that? That's just being plain petty."

"Being petty never really hurts, ya know." You said with a devilish grin, but it was soon shot down by Finn's 'Come on, now' look. "Or maybe just a little bit?"

"Darling, no. That conversation that happened earlier is done. We should just forget what happened & just accept the situation like the bending willows." You frowned.

"Well, alright." You put the phone down. "But I'm just saying it would be a good idea to call this number. I don't think he gave it to you for no reason." Finn considered that thought. 

"Hand me the card, please." You did as he asked you. You handed the black card & Finn took a gander at it. Maybe you were right about calling the number. He grabbed his phone from his pocket & you smiled at him.

"So, you're going to call the card?" 

"Yes, but I'm not going to do anything petty." He said sternly, but that sternness soon turned into dread. "But what do I say though? I don't think I've talked to a customer outside of work."

"A-HEM." You coughed loudly.

"I mean besides you, plus when we went somewhere to have a conversation, we never really talked on the phone about it beforehand." That gave you an idea.

"You should invite him for some tea, then."

"What?"

"Yeah, invite him for some tea! Like you did with me." Finn laid back down on the blanket awkwardly as he groaned. "Come on, babe. I doubt it's going to be that bad. Well, if you cut out the tea spilling thing then yeah everything is going to be fine." His phone covered his face as he just felt the weirdness of talking to him.

You laid sideways next to Finn. "But if he treats you like shit again, I will kick his ass for real this time."

"That doesn't really help, dearest." 

"Listen, I'm just saying & to be honest, I might kick his ass anyway because he's a dick."

"You JUST met him today."

"Okay &? I'm about to throw hands the next time I see him." Finn groaned even louder as he turned to the side. You rubbed the side of his waist. "But you should still go talk to him. You have the card in your hands." Finn took one quick look at the black card again.

Finn finally gave in. "Fine, but I will not be a happy camper if it either goes to voicemail or it's just a operator on the line." You smiled. Finn dials the number on his phone, '717-XXX-XXXX'. His phone vibrates for about 3 seconds. Then 4. Now 5.

The phone picks up & Finn puts it on speaker.

"Welcome to the Talent Agency. How may I help you today?"

It wasn't his voice, sadly. It was a feminine voice on the line. It wasn't high-pitched, but it was a rich voice with a hint of gentleness.

Finn could've hung up from there since it wasn't the result that anyone was hoping for, but for some reason, something in him possessed him. A voice told him to continue the call.

"May I speak with Auron?" The lady on the line went silent but you could both hear typing, so there was some hope left.

"Who am I speaking with?" The lady sounded suspicious towards Finn as the sounds of typing stopped, but to be fair, you wouldn't send some randos to your boss. It would be a waste of time & annoying.

"Finn. From Talk Floral...?" Finn's response sounded worried. Like if you were dialing some random code in & praying that it would work. Finn cheesed so awkwardly & squinted his eyes like he was prepared to be slapped in the face with disappointment.

"Oh! Finn? Sorry, dear. I didn't recognize you. It is late after all." Your eyes both widened at the lady's response. Finn recognized the voice better, but you were even more confused than before.

"How many people do you know?" You mouthed quietly.

"A lot. It's been awhile." He mouthed back quietly. "Heyyyyy, Trish! It's been awhile, huh?"

"It sure has been, honey. I'm assuming he gave you the company card?" He both looked at the black card & some things were kinda starting to add up but at the same time, more questions than answers here.

"Yes & I was also wondering if I could go to Auron?" Finn asked.

"I would, but he's out of the office. He doesn't stay for long."

"Then why are you still at the office if he's gone?"

"I don't slack, you know. I'm just finishing up some leftover memos & emails that need to be sent tomorrow. However, it is nice to hear from you, Finn. Always been a joy to talk to!" He smiled at that compliment & looked at you.

"The teaaaaaaaa dateeeeee." You whispered.

"O-Oh! Um, is it possible to set up an appointment with him? Sometimeee?"

"Yeah, I can schedule that, but I have to let him know first. Can't be setting up blind dates as funny as that would be." Finn's face flushed.

"NONONONO IT'S NOT A DATE-" Trish chuckled on the other line.

"Jesus, ya sound like him. 'It's not a date, it's a business trip.'" She mocked Auron's voice. "But yeah, don't worry I'm just messing with you." Finn sighed loudly as he just laid down onto the blanket in exhaustion. "Don't worry, dear. I can try, key word: try honey, to see if he's willing to join you. Can't make any promises to you."

"If he does say yes & that's a big if, when & where will it be?"

"There's a little local tea shop that a good family friend of mine owns. It's called Hattie's & it's just right around the square. Maybe he can come by around like 12? That's when the shop closes for the day, since it's a Sunday." The sound of typing resumes from the other side of the call.

"Well, I'll let him know that you want to see him."

"Thank you so very much, Trish."

"Anytime, dear. Bye-bye." The call hung up. Finn puts his phone down on the blanket & just stares at the stars.

"That went well, didn't it?"

"nO." Finn's voice cracked. 

"Come on, Finn. Are you worried that he might want to see you again?"

"YES."

"Maybe, & hear me out with this one, I come with you." Finn sat back up. Jesus, Finn is doing some goddamn sit-ups in this chapter, goddamn.

"With what happened today, no. I don't want you to cause a scene again & you just said earlier that you wanted to kick his ass."

"Still do."

"See?!" He groaned. "I just want it to go right & just not screw up this time."

"& you won't. I believe it's going to go well but if anything goes wrong, I'm always here for you alright?" Finn just nodded & you put your hand on his shoulder. "How about we enjoy the rest of this night, hmm?" You both layed down on the blanket. Y'all be getting abs after this.

"Hey, Finn. One more question for you. It's about Auron." Finn hummed a 'Yes.' "How long have you known him for?"

"I've known him for a while, but around 2 years sounds to be specific. I would say we've been, um acquainted."

"For two years of knowing each other, it doesn't seem like it." You quirked a eyebrow. "I don't buy that, Finn."

"But it's true!"

"Is it true? Or are you scared to just establish something between you two?" Finn hid his neck. He didn't have to say a thing to answer that question. His body language alone was enough. The rest was just an awkward silence as he was afraid to answer the truth about himself.

Nothing else needed to be said for it just unveiled itself.

He was alright with admitting mistakes, but when it comes to the truth about himself? He's scared of looking towards his own reflection. You both spent the rest of the date within silence but within that silence, you comforted him with your touch.

☆ミ Author's Notes Underneath 👇 ☆ミ

🩷 - Ngl did not know how to end this chapter so I'm sorry if the ending to this kinda sucks. I'll work on how to end chapters better or even how to write chapters better. The other reason is that I keep ignoring the asks in my little mailbox so if you sent me anything, I'm so sorry for not answering sooner. Gots alot on mind but don't worry I'm still chugging.

[chejuu]

20 questions for writers

thank you @wingdingery for the tag and excuse to self-indulgently talk about myself <3

1. how many works do you have on AO3? 17 on cheju, then 11 more on my various and sundry accounts 🫣

2. what's your total AO3 word count? 73,122 on cheju, a total of 110,145

3. what fandoms do you write for? nightwing + some original work as of late + various fandoms i used to be in that people request in fic exchanges

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? like two days ago bad desire just surpassed the kudos of a ten-year-old sansa/margaery fic i published on my old account. wow! please ignore that i was writing smut at 16

setting aside my other accounts, then it’s diesis (smut), listen to teeth (smut), sex, lies, and audiotape (mafia au. also smut), and exactly what it looks like (silly identity porn crack)

5. do you respond to comments? always!

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? down together leaves it open but probably fits the bill, in that the sex makes things significantly worse between slade and dick

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Rescued Slut Thanks His Studly Savior is established relationship sladick fluff (if pure smut can be fluff i guess) which i thought i would never write so maybe that. or better now, but it's about theater camp (2023) which is already a feel-good comedy movie to begin with

8. do you get hate on fics? not yet. i feel like it's a rite of passage, tho. quick someone send me hate

9. do you write smut? If so, what kind? it’s like... all i do

10. do you write crossovers? no, but never saying never!

11. have you ever had a fic stolen? nope

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? i think i’d be too embarrassed

14. What's your all-time favorite ship? gotta be drarry (sorry sladick)

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you will? i plan to finish all my wips eventually, even the unpublished ones! at least any that have made it out of the notes app and into a word doc. the only one that maaay not make it is a recursive fic (author permission granted!) based on a popular sladick story—i’m a bit nervous about not living up to the original 🙈

16. What are your writing strengths? character voice, i think, and banter in particular. sexual tension, smut. so i've been told!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? i hardly write anything longer than a single scene, let alone more than one chapter. the one time i've given it an earnest go, i've gotten so caught up in the weeds that i haven't updated in months T_T

i'd also like to get better at atmosphere. not so much descriptions of the setting, more like... creating a distinctive tone through detail, metaphor, word choice. sometimes i feel like unless i'm writing a very particular setting, the tone is just. nonexistent?

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? i honestly have zero thoughts

19. First fandom you wrote for? harry potter when was 14. wow it even has an A/N and everything

20. Favourite fic you've written? i think it’s bad desire so i’m glad the people agree hahah 

-

tagging @lordwisteria @roipecheur @mattdillon @thesubtextis @ontheropesss !

[vodika-vibes]

Neverland

Summary: When you were a child, you and your twin went missing for six months. You escaped, but your twin didn't. And now that you're an adult you realize that Captain Howzer is hunting the person who took you.

Pairing: Kight Captain Howzer x Reader

Word Count: 4351

Warnings: Mention of child death

A/N: So, I developed a migraine halfway through writing this, so I'm not sure if I'm happy with it or not. But I'm posting it anyway. Also, I've never written Howzer before.

Divider by saradika

“-we’d really appreciate it if you came down to the memorial. Your mother would appreciate it.” Your dad smiles at you across the mirror, “I know it’s a hard thing for you angel, but-”

“Mother blamed me, dad.” You reply with a sigh, “We both know she doesn’t want me there.”

“She loves you, baby girl.” Your dad says quietly, “She just…forgets that sometimes. It’d be great if you came to the memorial anyway.”

“I’m sorry dad, but I’m not going.” You lean back in your desk chair, “I know you all want me there, but dad, you’re the only one who doesn’t blame me. Besides, I have so much work to do…”

Your dad sighs, “They were grieving, baby.”

“So was I. I lost my other half, and somehow their grief is more than mine?” You shake your head, “I’m sorry dad, I’m not going to the memorial.”

Your dad sighs again, “Will I see you this weekend?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It depends on my workload.”

“Alright. Love you baby girl.”

“Yeah, love you too, dad.” You end the call with a quiet sigh, and promptly toss the mirror into your desk. The last thing you want is for your mother to call you and ream you out for not attending her golden baby’s memorial.

Ironically, you probably could make it to the memorial. Captain Howzer wouldn’t deny you that, and it’s the end of the work day anyway…but the idea of coming face to face with the people who accused you of being the reason your own twin died…

Well, you have good reason to not have anything to do with them.

You sort through the paperwork on your desk, organizing them into piles for later while you try to forget everything that happened to you all those years ago. Everything that had led to your twin brother’s death.

It was just after your seventh birthday, your parents had surprised you and your brother with your own rooms, and while you both loved having your own space, sleeping apart was still weird. More so for your brother, than you.

He snuck into your room and curled up into your bed, and the pair of you stayed awake until midnight, just talking and giggling with each other. And that was when He appeared.

He was a boy, only about ten years old, and he flew in your bedroom window. He regaled you and your brother with stories about adventures and wonder, and then asked your brother to come with him, promising him the adventure of a lifetime.

He refused to go with the boy unless you could go with him. 

And the boy agreed. 

And He took you and your brother to a wondrous place. A place where the sky was always blue and the water was always clean, and He took the pair of you, and the other children, on adventures like from a storybook-

But, unlike your brother and the other boys, Neverland, as He called it, never felt safe to you. You always felt like someone was watching you, you never could relax enough to sleep for longer than a few hours at most.

Your brother told you that you were just feeling guilty for running off without telling mom and dad. He said it would pass, because it did for him, but you weren’t quite sure.

So you wandered. You started spending more and more time on your own, and He didn’t mind because He didn’t want you there to begin with. And the more you wandered, the more unsettled you became.

The further you strayed from Him, the less bright the world became. Trees twisted and curled, grass wilted, the sky turned brown and then gray, and the water became dull and murky-

And then you met her. She was a mermaid, though unlike the mermaids in the crystal clear lagoons nearer to His home, this one was older and tired looking. She was naught but skin and bones, and her hair was a tangled mat. And she watched you with sightless eyes.

The mermaid, who refused to give her name, and spoke in a raspy whisper, led you down the filthy river that she called home, until she came to a lake. And there, the mermaid pointed into the water.

Littering the bottom of the lake were skeletons. Hundreds of them. Maybe more. All of them the size of the average child. 

The mermaid whispered what He did. How He traveled from Neverland to the Mortal Realm and he coaxed children into leaving their home, and families, to go on an adventure with him. She whispered that he killed all of the children he took, with no exceptions. 

And then she told you to run. She said that your brother was lost, had become one of His Lost Boys, and wouldn’t follow you even if he wanted, and she whispered a path out. An opening that He didn’t know about.

And, though it broke your heart, you knew she was right. Your brother wasn’t yours anymore. He had taken him.

The path back to the mortal realm was fraught with perils, you nearly died several times (from falling, drowning, and animal attacks) until you were finally able to stumble through the portal back to where you were supposed to be.

And as soon as you were back in the mortal realm, you collapsed.

What had felt like a week for you, had been six months in the mortal realm.

It took six months for you to physically recover, though some of the scars remain still, and you needed therapy for years to help you heal mentally. But eventually you did. 

And now, every year, your mother wants to drag you to the memorial and force you to relive the trauma. Oh, she never makes you talk about it, but she does make you relive it. Over and over and over-

You exhale slowly and pinch the bridge of your nose to try and stem the headache you feel forming, and then you grab a stack of folders and push to your feet. You’re done with them, which means they need to go on the Captain’s desk.

You glance at the clock and make a face. It’s late enough that the Captain probably already left for the day. Which means you’ll have to leave a note about the files for him to see when he comes in in the morning.

You leave your office, and walk down the hall to where Captain Howzer works. You’re surprised to notice that his office lights are still on. Which means he’s working late…or he forgot to turn off the light.

You lightly knock on the door, and wait a moment. You’re only a little surprised when you hear him tell you the door is unlocked. You push open the door and flash the smallest smile at Howzer, “Burning the midnight oil, Captain?”

“It’s not that late, mesh’la,” Captain Howzer leans back in his chair, a smile crossing his handsome face, “Besides, you’re still here.”

“Yes, but I’m intentionally being an unfilial daughter by staying here and giving myself more work. What’s your excuse?” You ask as you set the stack of folders in his inbox.

He glances at the folders, “I have a blind date that I’m skipping.” Howzer replies.

“That’s so rude.” You say as you fold your arms.

“Yeah, well…I have my eye on someone, and going on a blind date isn’t going to make her view me positively.” Howzer replies, “I sent someone else to go in my place. Identical faces and all.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re not identical, Captain.”

“Howzer.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just us here, mesh’la. You can just call me by my name.”

You shake your head, “Fine. You’re not all identical, Howzer.” You repeat, emphasizing his name.

“You’ll find that most of the world doesn’t agree with you,” Howzer replies with a grin, his gaze locked on your face, “Have a seat, mesh’la. I’m not going to kick you out of my office.”

You sink into the chair across from him, “Did you have something you needed to talk about?” You ask.

“I like hearing you talk,” Howzer replies bluntly, grinning when a pale blush crosses your face, “So, mesh’la, what family event are you skipping?”

“Uh…a memorial.” You say quietly, “For my twin brother. Who died 14 years ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Howzer says quietly.

“No it…” you sigh, “It was a long time ago, and I’ve mostly made my peace with it.”

“Mostly?”

“My family blames me.” You explain, “Because I escaped and he didn’t.”

“Wait, wait. What do you mean escaped?” Howzer asks with a frown.

“Is this not in my file?” You counter, surprised.

“No, not at all.”

“Uh, right. Well…we were seven, and someone kidnapped us. I was missing for six months.” You shrug awkwardly, “It took me over a year to physically recover…and even longer to recover mentally.”

“And the man who took you?”

“Ah…never captured.”

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.” Howzer says quietly.

“Yeah, well…I survived. I’m the lucky one.” You shrug again, and absently fiddle with the hem of your shirt, “Anyway, todays the anniversary of the day I was found, and I prefer to spend the day working, rather than wallowing.”

“I can understand that,” Howzer agrees, “You want something to drink?”

“If you’re offering me the toxic caf from the break room-”

He laughs, “No. I have my own machine here. You want some?”

“Yeah, okay.”

He gets up to start the caf, and you turn to watch him, sitting in comfortable silence (you’ve always been comfortable around Howzer, which is weird since most people make you a little anxious), and then something catches your eye.

Howzer keeps a corkboard in his office, for when he has to plan campaigns. And you’ve just noticed that there’s something on the back of the board. “What’s this?” You ask as you get to your feet, “Are you planning a campaign, Howzer?”

He turns and winces when he sees you flipping the cork board, “It’s a case. I’ve been studying.”

You stare at the board, your fingers lightly trailing from posters of missing children, going back centuries, to case notes with interviews from the parents.

“All of the case files say the same thing,” Howzer says as he walks over and hands you a mug of caf, “The parents put their son to bed, and then, when they woke up, their son was gone.” He explains, “A lot of parents were arrested for the murder of their child. I don’t think the parents ever did it though.”

The pictures are layered on the board, due to how many there are, and you lift one of the pictures, and your breath catches. One of the pictures was of a little boy, with bright red hair, and missing his front two teeth. You knew that boy. He used to cry every night in Neverland…and he vanished on your second day in Neverland.

“It would be easier to solve if there were any witnesses,” Howzer says with a sigh, “Kids…kids don’t deserve this.”

You carefully lift more of the pictures, picking out faces of boys that you know, and recognize. “No one deserves this,” You say quietly, “What He does to those boys is…monstrous.”

Howzer hums, and then freezes, and turns to look at you, “He?”

“Yeah.” You fold your arms over your stomach, anxiety coiling though you, “Peter. His name is Peter.”

“How can you possibly-” Howzer turns to face you completely, and something like horror crosses his face, “You were taken by the man who did this?”

“Boy. Peter’s a boy. Or at least looks like a boy,” You correct absently, “And…yeah. I was.”

“I’ve looked into every missing child case in the last 100 years, and your name never crossed my desk,” Howzer mumbled.

“My parents reported us as runaways. It was only after I was found that people realized that we were kidnapped.” You rub your arms quickly, “And by that point it wasn’t a missing persons case anymore…it became a murder investigation. But no one ever asked me what happened.”

“No one?”

You shrug, “The police tried, but I was malnourished, badly injured, and severely traumatized. Everyone thought that the boy I was talking about was my brother.”

“This Peter…he hurt you?”

“No. He didn’t care about me. But when I was escaping I was attacked by a wild wolf,” You hesitate for a moment, and then take a step back and peel off your jacket, and then your shirt, leaving you in the thin tank-top you always wear under your clothes. You lift the tank top slightly, revealing the nasty scar on your abdomen.

“They couldn’t heal it?” Howzer asks as his fingers lightly brush the scar.

You shiver, “They tried, but…well, it didn’t want to heal at all. So they gave up on not it not scarring and settled for me not bleeding to death.”

He slowly pulls his hand away, though he remains closer to you than would normally be proper, “How did you escape?”

“A native. She pointed me in the right direction, and told me how to get out.” You reply as you look up at his face. You hesitate and nervously lick your lips, “The portal is still there, Howzer. And it’s big enough for a man to pass through.”

His gaze snaps to your face, “You’re sure?”

“I bought the land around the portal. I check on it weekly. I…I keep hoping that maybe another kid will fall out, but-”

“Why haven’t you gone back?” Howzer asks.

“I…by myself? I can’t. I…maybe that makes me a coward-”

“What if I go with you?” He places his hands on your shoulders, “What if I go with you to this Neverland. We can rescue what kids are there, and catch this Peter.”

“Peter’s dangerous, Howzer.”

He smiles at you, there’s a glimmer of something dangerous in his gaze, though it’s not directed at you. “So am I.”

You stare up at him, silent, “...okay. If you come with me, then…yeah. Just…make yourself look less soldier-y?”

“I can do that,” He says with a grin, as his thumbs rub soothing circles on your shoulders.

You hesitate for a moment, and then stand on your toes to brush your lips against his cheek, “Thank you, Howzer.”

His answering smile is small, and lazy, and his hands move just a little so he’s able to rub circles on the side of your neck, “Would you like to go get dinner?” He asks.

“Like…as friends?”

“Like, as a date.” He corrects with a sly grin.

Your jaw drops, “Oh. Um…yeah. Okay. I’d like that.” You manage to squeak out as your face flames red.

“Excellent. And then, tomorrow, we can get started on solving this case.”

You smile up at him, “That sounds like a plan to me.”

**************

The following morning, after a wonderful date that you didn’t want to end, you led Howzer to your small strip of property far outside the city. You’ve tended to the land as best you can, dedicating it to wildflowers and other wild plants, but even so, there’s no animals in the area.

It’s just dead silence.

“So this place is pretty,” Howzer notes as he follows you down a path that you made, “Creepy, somehow, but still pretty.”

“Mm. I think it’s the portal that makes it feel like that,” You reply over your shoulder, “The closer we get the less healthy the plants will become. You’ll see.”

“If you say so, mesh’la.” He replies, speeding up slightly and taking your hand in his. “Are you okay? You’re trembling.”

You thread your fingers with his, and squeeze his hand lightly, “Just nervous, Howzer.”

“Hey, I’m not going to let you get hurt.” He says.

“You might not have a choice.” You squeeze his hand again, and then lead him down a winding path that he wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t shown him.

True to what you said, the further away from the road you walked, the less healthy the plants became. Until you led him to a cave. Death seemed to snake out of the cave, leeching the life from the plants in the area around the cave.

“In there?” Howzer asked as he moved closer to the cave.

You wrap your hands around his forearm, and press yourself against his arm, “Yeah.” You whisper.

“What can I expect on the other side?”

“Um. It’ll look similar to this,” You say, “Lots of dead plants, and the sky will either be gray or brown. We’ll want to follow the river to get to the lake.”

“What are the odds that Peter will be there waiting for us?”

“None at all. He doesn’t…he’s unaware of this opening, or else he would have destroyed it.”

“Good to know,” Howzer murmurs, and then he turns to look at you properly, “You don’t have to come with me, mesh’la.” He very gently cups your face and tilts your head back so you’re looking up at him.

“I do though,” You reply as you finally release his arm and press your hands over his, “Let me come with you, please Howzer?”

His thumbs rub soothing circles on your cheeks, “How could I ever say no to you when you ask me so nicely?” His smile is slightly teasing, though he becomes serious after a moment, “I want you to stay close, mesh’la. No running off and playing the hero. And you’ll listen if I tell you to do something.”

You nod once.

His grip tightens, just a little, “I need to hear you say it, mesh’la.”

“I’ll listen and stay close,” You promise.

“Okay, good.” He quickly leans in and ghosts a kiss against your temple, before he releases you and takes your hand instead, and he tugs you towards the cave.

You walk through the dark cave, until the scent changes from musty cave, to rotten meat, and then there’s dim sunlight ahead of you and then you and Howzer step into Neverland.

It looks…exactly like you remember it. Dreary and bleak, and smelling of death and rot.

“...kids like this place?” Howzer asks, as he looks around. His gaze lingers on fallen, dead, trees, and then his gaze darts over to the water, which is so murky it almost looks black. 

“The closer they are to Peter the better it looks. As I understand it, this is far outside of Peter’s power.” You reply.

Howzer walks over to a fallen log and kicks it with one foot, and the log crumbles almost immediately, “And you navigated this at seven years old?”

“I was motivated.” You joke weakly. “The path should be easier now, though. I think it was always designed for adults.”

“Are there any adults here? Other than us?”

“I never saw any, but I’m not the best to ask.” You point at the water, “We should follow that back to the lake.”

“Yeah, alright.” He holds his hand out to you, and you immediately take it, and then he takes a good look at the water, and starts walking in the opposite direction it’s flowing.

It still takes several hours to make it to the lake, the path a lot easier with the longer legs of an adult…plus there being two of you. And without the animal attack that nearly killed you the first time, which had slowed you down a lot when you were originally trying to escape. 

“This is the lake?” Howzer asks.

“Yeah,” You lean lightly against him and motion to the center of the lake, “Look. There.”

In the center of the lake, sitting on a massive rock, is the same mermaid who helped you escape all those years ago. Still just as skeletal, her hair just as matted. Though, when she hears you, a grin crosses her ancient face.

She swims across the lake, and settles on a rock much closer to shore, “I knew you would return.” She says in her raspy voice, “And I knew that you would bring a friend.”

“I…this is Captain Howzer-” You start to explain, only for her to let out a delighted cackle, so suddenly that Howzer jerks you sharply behind him.

“A Military man,” She cackles, “How long has it been…?” She pins Howzer in place with a sharp look, “You are a soldier?”

“Yes ma’am,”

“Good, good.” Her tail flicks sharply, “Then hear me well. Peter has six boys with him right now. Of those six, only half will survive leaving Neverland.”

“What about the other three?” Howzer asks.

“It’s too late for them. By the time you reach them, Peter will have already claimed them.” The mermaid says, “But you can claim the other three.”

“Do you know where they are?” You ask.

“They are at the tree,” She replies, “You remember the one?”

You nod once.

“Good. You know the route from here. Neverland isn’t that big when you walk it as an adult.” Her smile is cruel, “As for stopping Peter…well, there’s no stopping him, not really. But you can trap him here in Neverland.” Her sightless eyes gleam.

“How do we do that?” Howzer asks.

“That’s not something you can do. No need to worry, you go and get those children, and I’ll handle everything else.” Her smile is sharp, and dangerous. 

You nervously tug on Howzer’s arm, “We should…we should hurry.” 

“Yeah. Yeah we should.” Howzer lightly motions for you to start walking, and he only turns to follow you when the mermaid retreats to the center of the lake.

All things considered, the task you and Howzer were given is simple. It is easy to find the tree, since you already know where it is, and it’s even easier to convince the children to come with you. They want to go home to their parents, and Howzer has a familiar face, a face that they know even if they don’t know him.

And even making the trip back to the exit is quick. The children are eager to follow you so they can go home, and they’re more than happy to accept help.

You pass by the lake, and the mermaid is gone.

You walk the long trail between the lake and the exit in several hours, and then you enter the cave, with the children in front of you, and Howzer in the very back.

As soon as you step foot back in the mortal realm, the three children collapse from exhaustion and hunger. You carefully carry one of the children up to the road, while Howzer carries the other two.

And then you gently tend to them in the shade of a massive tree while Howzer calls for aid. And after the authorities showed up, and Howzer answered questions while you helped the medics get the children into their transport, you settled yourself under a tree and let your head thump against the bark.

You watched as Howzer finished speaking to the authorities, including some of his younger brothers, and you watched as slowly, everyone who came at Howzer’s call slowly left, until it’s just you and Howzer.

And he turns and favors you with a warm smile, and he walks over and sits on the ground next to you. “So, that was fun.” Howzer says lightly as he turns his head to watch you.

“You have a weird definition of fun, Captain.” You reply as you turn your head to smile at him. 

“Maybe.” He agrees, “Do you think Neverland is cut off?”

“I dunno. I doubt we ever will.” You reply honestly, “Some things aren’t for people to know.”

“Yeah. I suppose that’s true.” Howzer replies. He’s quiet for a long moment, and then he flashes you a slightly sly smile, “You want to go get something to eat?”

“...are you asking me on another date, Howzer?”

“Absolutely.” His grin grows, “Eventually I’ll wear you down and I can ask you to be my girlfriend.”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Why don’t you just ask?”

“I think wooing you will be fun,” Howzer replies cheerfully, “So there’s going to be flowers, and dinner dates, and breakfast dates-”

“Oh, stars,” You break down laughing, feeling lighter than you have in years, “Howzer! I’ll be your girlfriend! Please don’t try to bring me on any breakfast dates.”

“But it’ll be fun! We can get up early and watch the sunrise. Of course this only works if you spend the night at my place-” He adds slyly.

“Oh, so this is you trying to get me to spend the night,” You reply with a grin.

“Eh, 50-50. I definitely want to be able to hug and kiss you whenever I want. But I also really want you in my bed. Or to be in your bed, I’m really not picky, mesh’la.” Howzer grins at you.

And you blush, “You’re awful.”

“And yet, you already agreed to be my girlfriend. So there’s clearly something about me you like.”

You glance at him, a teasing smile crossing your lips, “It’s your hair. You have fancy hair and it caught my attention.”

He tugs you against his side, and drapes his arm over your shoulder, “Hey, I’ll take it.” He ducks his head and brushes his lips against the corner of your lips, and you release a frustrated noise in the back of your throat. “Problem, mesh’la?” he asks, his lips curling into a grin against your skin.

“You should kiss me properly,” You reply.

“Mm. Should I?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if that’s what ner mesh’la wants,” He murmurs as he shifts ever so slightly and kisses you properly, deepening the kiss until he’s taken over everything that you are. And your arms come up to wrap around his neck as he pulls you closer, until you’re almost sitting on him. And then he breaks the kiss, “Like that?”

“Mm…I’m not sure. You should show me again.” You tease, slightly breathlessly.

“Greedy,” He teases right back, and then he seals his lips over yours again.

[gulliblelemon]

20 Questions For Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @bigalockwood!

How many works do you have on Ao3?

22

What's your total Ao3 word count?

266,115

What fandoms do you write for?

Exclusively Young Royals. 

Top five fics by kudos

See You (Soon)

Where We Left Off

Please Try Again Later

Happy 18th, Crown Prince Wilhelm

The Umbrella

(I have a whole kudos spreadsheet and watching the trends is fascinating 😉)

Do you respond to comments?

Yes! Well, I try to. It sometimes gets a little bit overwhelming, especially at the beginning when there's an influx. But they're all so wonderful.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I haven't written anything with an angsty ending. I don't think I have it in me 😅

(Unless you count one shots in a series, in which case it's What Am I Going To Do? But that's part of a whole universe that does have a happy ending, so I'm not counting it - although when I posted there was no promise of a continuation of the story, so it was angsty for a while).

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

All my fics have happy endings. But I think they all feel like it's a happy ending to that particular part of their story, and will go on to be more after.

Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't as of yet. I still can't really believe that's a thing that happens.

Do you write smut?

No. And the longer I go on, the more I wonder if I should. But then again, I wrote a whole fic that was basically about hooking up without it, so maybe I'll be fine never writing it.

Craziest crossover

I've never written a crossover.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! I had The Umbrella translated into Russian and uploaded to ficbook.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No.

All time favourite ship?

Wilmon.

What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a folder full of WIP documents, most of which are just a line or a few sentences scribbled down. Some scenes, some ideas. I doubt they'll all get written, but lots get pulled for other things. And Wille's Month made me dust some of them off and either expand on them or just publish as they were.

But as for actual WIPs that I'm actively working on, I haven't got one that I don't think I'll finish. Once I start, I kind of get to the end by whatever means necessary 😅 Even if it takes me ages.

What are your writing strengths?

Erm... horrible question 😅. Dialogue? Maybe? I don't know. Someone else would have to answer that for me. I think I have a very skewed view of my own writing based on what I do and don't like doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Also horrible question, for very different reasons. Repetition probably. When I have something I just need to get down, I stop paying as much attention to how I'm saying things (what words I'm using, how I'm structuring sentences etc). But luckily @iwouldnevergetintofanfic is pretty good at catching it.

Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It depends. I am not fluent, or even passable really, in any languages other than English. I'm not averse to dropping the odd word in, but in general I write the English translation (since they're speaking in Swedish anyway). I also discovered that the grammar rules are different, so ended up changing a load of stuff back to English in one fic because I wasn't sure which grammar rules to use.

First fandom you wrote in?

Young Royals.

Favourite fic you've written?

I don't know. I like certain ones for different reasons.

Where We Left Off was a massive undertaking. It's over twice as long as the next longest thing I've written (still not long by 'long fic' standards) and I was writing it for nearly a year. (And I'm not sure I'll ever write something that long again, that's not really how my brain works).

See You (Soon) was the first one where I felt like I knew what I was doing, and I think I will always be very fond of it.

I loved the process of writing Making Music, because it was a gift for a dear friend @purplehoodiesandclementines.

But I love them all in different ways 💜

No pressure tags for @unfortunate17, @enjoythesilentworld and @peakotp (and anyone else seeing this that wants to answer - I love reading these. I'll even retroactively tag you if you want!).

[rancidpancakebatter]

Drop In-Chapter 1 [P.P.]

Pairings: Peter Parker x AFAB Reader

Summary: You like Peter, and Peter likes you. This should be simple, so why isn’t it? Well, maybe it’s because you were already friends? Maybe it’s the stress of senior year? Maybe it’s because someone had to get bit by a spider? Who’s to say?

Word Count: 4.5k words

Content: MINORS DNI: 18+ Swearing, Marijana Use, Underage Drinking, Bullying,

( Previous | Chapter List | Next )

Chapter Summary: Summer round-up, smoke sesh, and the first day of senior year

A/n: Hey besties! Welcome back! It's been a bit! I'm so excited to continue this story! I've got an actual plot mapped out this time around so that'll be fun :))

“Okay now, just snap your foot up. There you go! You got it!” You felt the shock in your bones as the board hit solid ground again. Peter cheered as you made your victory lap around him before hopping off and catching the trucks in your palms. You threw your hands up and Peter was quick to rush you, lifting you slightly off the ground as he did. 

“Congratulations on your first kickflip! You are now officially a pro skater.” He held up a fake microphone, now putting on a silly announcer voice, “(Y/n), please, tell the people, what will you do now?” 

You giggled leaning into his balled fist, playing along. “I’m going to Disney World!” You both began laughing uncontrollably, Peter’s head thrown back as you fell forward, your hand on his shoulder. 

Peter has been giving you skating lessons for a few months now. You could monster walk, do tic tacs, a manual, pivot, an ollie, a push shove, and now a kickflip. It was all thanks to him. Many falls and scrapes had happened to get where you are but you were proud of yourself. 

Peter Parker was your best friend. Being with Peter was so amazingly fun. You couldn’t remember a time without him. He was the sun and all the stars, a guiding light in the monotony of the world. You weren’t sure you would ever admit that to him though. 

Your dynamic with Peter had shifted. You were still close but not as intimate. Hugs were shorter, kisses sparse. You thought it was strange. You stupidly blamed yourself, thinking you had been too forward. As his hand came up to meet your shoulder, stabilizing himself as he tried to rein in his laughter, you couldn’t help but relish in the touch. 

His fingers felt so sure and you couldn’t help but think that’s where they belonged. They belong on your shoulder, on your face, in your hair, or carded between your fingers. You missed him, as ridiculous as that sounds. He was right here, right in front of you, but for the past few months, he felt so far away. You refused to dwell on it much longer, choosing to instead focus on his blinding smile, adorned with dimples and small freckles. 

He slung his arm around your shoulder, “I don’t know about you but I’m hungry and I think Uncle Ben mentioned something about burgers for dinner. What do ya say we head back?” 

You wrapped your arm around his waist, “I think that sounds great!”

You made your way to where you had parked your car and threw your boards in the back. You had saved up enough money to get yourself a beat-up ‘99 Honda Civic. The front bumper was black and the passenger door was navy blue, the rest of the car was emerald green. Peter affectionately called it the “shit box” but he did your oil changes so you didn’t complain. 

You didn’t know much about cars but you were very excited that it had a cd player and the speakers were pretty decent. For Christmas Peter made you a mixtape of sorts. He had compiled a bunch of songs from his collection of music and put it on one CD for you, titled: Better Tunes for a Better Day. It never left your console, unless Peter brought something else into the car. 

Peter was the first person you saw after you got it. Your dad helped you sign all of the paperwork at the shady dealership and waved you off. He teased you saying, “I’m sure you’ll be busy for the rest of the day, driving Ole Pete around.” 

You were so excited when you pulled up to his house, a noticeable bounce in your step as you made your way to the porch. You knocked on the door and May answered, pulling you into a tight hug. She had become a mother, of sorts, to you. Always checking up on you, asking about school and work. She was such a kind woman and you appreciated her generosity. 

She called Peter down and once everyone was there you broke the news, barely able to keep it in. Everyone followed you to check it out, Aunt May standing by your side congratulating you on the purchase, while the boys went to survey the vehicle. Uncle Ben commended you on picking such a reliable car while Peter began muttering to himself, trying to find ways to make it faster, more efficient, etc. 

Driving around with Peter was fun if not a little distracting. He would point out random things he saw, before asking if you also saw them. He would fiddle with things in your car, one time he began reading the entire manual to you because “this is important information and I’ll have to quiz you later.” Mostly it was distracting because he was distracting. You found yourself, more often than not, more interested in what he was doing than the road. 

You trailed behind Peter as he made brief small talk with his guardians before going upstairs to his room. After eight months of hanging out together, you had a bit of a routine. You would shut the door as Peter opened the closet, and then you would grab the lighter off his desk before opening the window and sitting on the roof. 

Smoking with Peter had become a weekly ritual that you looked forward to because once a week whatever walls Peter had built after that Halloween party would crumble, ever so slightly. You drank in those moments knowing you would have to wait a whole seven days before getting another sip. 

The two of you passed a joint lazily between each other. You would feel small sparks every time your fingers brushed. Your brain felt pleasantly cloudy after a few hits. It was July in New York. it felt like summer was fighting against the reigning winter as the temperature would fluctuate. Today was a pleasant 66 degrees with a little cloud coverage. You watched as they passed overhead, trying to find shapes in the stringy cirrostratus. 

Peter chuckled at you when you moved your hand toward him, “The blunt’s done, my guy.” 

You pouted as he put the roach in a glass jar with other paraphernalic debris, which you referred to as the ‘Ghost of Weed Past’. You went back to gazing at the clouds, feeling just as weightless as them. Peter stretched, his hands pulling far above his head, and you tried not to stare at the bit of stomach that poked out underneath his tee. He let out a content sigh before laying down, his head on your lap. 

Peter flashed you a lazy grin and your breath caught in your throat. He was so beautiful like this. Completely at peace, no worries of his guardian’s financial woes, no school, no bullies, just him and you, safe on the rooftop. You brought your hand to his forehead slowly pushing back the curls that resided there, bathing in the light of his smile. He closed his eyes at the contact, letting out another relaxed sigh as your fingers massaged his scalp. 

You let yourself be swept away in the moment. You allowed the fairies in your brain to spin you a tale of gold. They told you that Peter loved you, that he was your boyfriend, that he didn't need to be high to show you affection, that nothing had changed and you guys were fine.

The fairies danced and jived, effectively shutting down any reasonable thought. Anything that would tell you that it wasn’t healthy to let yourself live in that delusion, anything that told you you were breaking your own heart, because here he was smiling at you, and that couldn’t be wrong. 

“You should learn how to play the fiddle.” Peter opened one eye, peering at you between the gap in his fingers that he brought up to block out the sun. 

“Why?” You scoffed at him. How is it that he couldn’t follow this completely rational train of thought? 

“Because you’re Jewish.” Peter turned, his chest now facing you, his head held above your lap.

“I should learn to play the fiddle…because I’m Jewish.” Peter was a very expressive person and in these months (not actually) together you had been able to read almost each one. 

Right now he was giving you the, ‘You seem to think you’re right but in this moment I believe myself to be much smarter than you and I can’t comprehend how you could ever think you’re right.’ It was an almost blank expression, the only sign of emotion coming from a slight twitch on the left side of his mouth.  

“Yeah! We’re on your roof a lot, you’re Jewish, you should learn the fiddle.” Peter continued his stare. 

“I don’t see the connection.” You huffed removing your hand from his hair to lean back on your palms.

“It’s like 'Fiddler on the Roof'! You could be the fiddler on the roof!” Peter started laughing and you joined in, not sure you got the joke but laughing all the same. His hands flew to his gut as his legs curled into his body, wheezing. You started to fall forward, unintentionally cradling his head in your body. 

“That was so racist!” You couldn’t stop laughing. 

“No, it’s not! I just think it would be funny!” Whatever restraint he had to stop laughing was broken and he started laughing again, twice as hard. 

“Racist movie, racist reference, ergo, racist you.” You were laughing too hard to respond, as was Peter. After what felt like ages your chuckles died down. 

“Is ‘Jewish’ a race or religion?” Peter looked to the sky, deep in thought. 

“I guess it’s kinda both. Cause like, in World War II, Hitler was like ‘You can tell a Jew by their big nose’ right? But then, like, actually he just meant ‘you can tell an Israeli from their big nose.’ But since then people are like ‘Jewish means Isreal’ which isn’t wrong per se, but also not right. It’s like rectangles and squares. Every Israeli is Jewish but not every Jew is Israeli.” You let out a puff of air. 

“Woah, that’s kinda trippy to think about.” Peter nodded letting out a quiet, “yeah.” 

“So which are you?” Peter chuckled before answering.

“I’m not sure, I’m kinda Jewish by default. I’m not sure if May’s family is from Isreal or if somewhere along the line someone converted. Either way, we love a good Mannorah.” laughter overtook the conversation once again, fairies happily flitting about both of your heads. 

You both stayed in the quiet. You weren’t sure how much time had passed but you were starting to come back down, so realistically about an hour. The world slowly began to get heavier as did reality. Peter’s head suddenly had weight in your lap, you fought back and forth between moving him and letting him stay. 

“We’re gonna be seniors soon.” Peter’s voice startled you slightly, as did his sudden revelation. 

“Yeah,” was the best you could muster up for a response, taken aback by his sombre tone.

“Soon we’re gonna have to plan out the rest of our lives, with no idea of what that might look like.” You stayed silent, unsure of what to say. You decide to bring a hand back to his hair, hoping the light scratches might comfort him. 

You heard a knock on the door and Peter made no effort to get up. You opened the window, the smell of weed long gone, and beckoned them in. You were greeted by Ben’s smiling face on the other side of the door. 

“Hey kiddos, the burgers are almost done. (Y/n) is your dad joining us tonight?” Your smile grew as Ben continued. He loved your dad, said he was wise beyond his years, which always made him chuckle. Ben was such a kind man, he cared so much about his family and had joked about adopting you into it. You were honoured to be someone he cared about. 

“No, not tonight. Maybe next week though, I’ll be sure to ask.” Ben brought a hand up, dismissively waving it around. 

“No, no, that’s okay. I’m sure he’s a busy man. You just be sure to let him know that he’s always welcome.” You told him you would and he stepped back out, you didn’t miss the fact that he left the door cracked, ever so slightly. You patted Peter’s shoulder, telling him you needed to head downstairs for dinner. He left your embrace begrudgingly, hopping up and putting the jar back in his closet. 

Monday morning you were at Peter’s house ready to go by 6:45. It was the first day of school and you refused to be late. You didn’t know what the traffic was going to be like and you also knew who Peter Parker was. He was someone who was chronically late or, maybe, exactly on time. You told him yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, that you wanted to leave at seven. He agreed each day and every time you brought it up, but his seven is seven-fifteen at best. 

Ben answered the door and ushered you in. He complimented your outfit and wrangled you into the kitchen where Aunt May was fixing breakfast. She stepped away from the hot stove to give you a hug before directing you to the chair Ben had pulled out for you. You loved seeing the Parkers excited about something. They run around, joyous chaos guiding their movements. 

A glass of orange juice was sat in front of you and you put your backpack on the floor next to you as you got settled. 

“(Y/n), are you excited, sweety? It’s senior year!” You chuckled at May’s enthusiasm, your eyes darting to the staircase periodically. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty excited. I don’t think it’s really sunk in yet.” May gave you a sweet smile, one that told you she understood what you meant. 

Ben clapped your shoulder before going to the stairs, “I’ll go see if Pete’s up yet.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes “I told him I wanted to leave at seven.”

A few minutes later Ben assured you he would be down soon and kissed his wife on the cheek on his way out the door, he made sure to wish you luck before leaving. May had already plated breakfast, a healthy portion of eggs and toast sitting in front of you. 

You heard heavy footsteps on the stairs and looked to see Peter Parker clomping down the steps. His backpack was open and his hoodie was only half on. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t the man of the hour,” May said with heavy sass. 

Peter said nothing as he kissed her on the cheek taking his plate. He sat next to you, kissing your temple before digging in. Your stomach fluttered to life at the seemingly casual display of affection in such a domestic setting. Peter, half asleep, didn’t seem to think anything of it. You were grateful Ben wasn’t here to comment on the obvious tension. 

You were lost in thought, only snapped back to reality when Peter nudged your shoulder. Your head snapped up and he snickered at you. “I asked if you were finished, space cadet.”

You stuttered out a “yeah, sure” and Peter took your plates to the sink. You grabbed your things and May wrapped you in another hug. You were on your way out the door when May gasped grabbing both of your attention. “Peter! Go grab your camera we need to take a picture.” 

You checked your phone for the time and bit back a sigh realising you were already ten minutes behind schedule, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to tell May no. Peter returned and handed his aunt the camera. She directed you closer to Peter, getting a few shots of you both together before taking some solo pictures. She waved you out the door promising you that your father would get the photos. 

You started your car and began driving towards the school. Your CD automatically started playing and Peter turned it off before searching through his bag. You whined at him and he waved a plastic square triumphantly in front of your face. 

“These songs represent all that is good and fun: the summertime. And while I enjoyed our summer together it’s time to move forward” You chuckled at his obviously planned speech and he continued. “Here I hold the soundtrack to our new adventure: The Last Fall of our Youth.”

You wrinkled your nose, not taking your eyes off the road. “Sounds kinda morbid.” 

Peter let out an offended snort, “It is not! It’s a fact. This is the last fall we have before we are legal adults. It’s also like we’re ‘falling’ out of our youth. It’s a double entendre!”

You laughed as he replaced the CD, “That’s not what that means.”

Peter simply turned up the volume, drowning you out. ‘No Way Down’ by the Shins fills your speakers as you make your way to school. You arrived twenty minutes early much to Peter’s dismay but you told him you would jam out for another ten minutes and that seemed to satiate him. ‘Fell In Love With a Girl’ by The White Stripes started playing and you giggled as Peter began strumming an air guitar and whipping his head around. 

Your new mantra was “Don’t let it get to you.” You started this mantra about four months ago. Peter had seemingly disappeared from your life for five weeks after Halloween. It broke your heart. You thought that maybe there was something there but his sudden absence left you confused and angry. Why would he string you along and then just leave? You couldn’t even say he just used you for sex because you guys didn’t even have sex. 

He would walk you to class but he seemed farther away, your fingers felt cold out of his hands. He started calling you “bro” and “dude” more often. He was awkward around you now. Well, more awkward. But he didn’t leave again. After a few months of beating yourself up and driving yourself crazy trying to read into everything Peter did, you decided it wasn’t worth it. 

So you refused to think about how cute he was, how his boyish charm melted your heart and warmed your soul. You refused to think about the song that was playing. You refused to think about whether or not Peter was serenading you as he stared into your eyes singing every word. You wouldn’t let it get to you. 

Peter and you received your schedules in the mail a few weeks ago and you immediately compared them. You had tried to sync them up as much as possible and were anxious to see if it had worked or not. Out of six classes, Peter and you shared four. You both high-fived, excited to see you both had the same lunch schedule too. This year didn’t seem so scary knowing you would have your best friend there by your side. 

You made your way to your Homeroom, not yet having lockers and took a seat next to each other. While the teacher began droning on you listened intently while Peter rested his chin on his arms crossed over his desk. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately. He kept having weird dreams that he couldn’t remember when he woke up. He could piece together little snippets, something about his parents, flying in the city, finding out he has brothers. All very annoying. 

You and Peter now took turns packing lunch. Peter had slipped to May that you had fed her nephew for a year and she insisted on splitting the task. Today May had packed some deli-like subs with a homemade dipping sauce. Both you and Peter had theorized about its ingredients but May refused to cough up a recipe. 

Peter finally joined Yearbook. It took a lot of convincing and minimal bribery but he eventually relented. Mr Carter was excited to have a new addition, even if it was just for one year. On the first day of school, Mr Carter always went over the major events planned for the year, the equipment renting policies, and brainstormed for the yearbook's theme. 

You wanted to pay attention but you had much bigger fish to fry. Peter’s birthday was in three days, this Saturday. You had originally gotten him two tickets to see Mumford and Sons at the Forrest Hill Stadium but the other day you started talking about them and Peter said he wasn’t a fan. 

You knew realistically if you handed him the tickets he would be overjoyed because you had given him tickets to a concert. You wanted to get him something he would absolutely love though, but also you didn’t want to spend too much on him because for Hanukah you got him a “real” gift for every day and he said it was too much. 

You only turn seventeen once and you wanted your gift to be special because he was special. You took out your notebook and began writing down everything you knew about your best friend to see if anything came to mind: smart, funny, skates, likes science books, zip up hoodies, nice smile, kind. 

You hadn’t noticed Peter looking over your shoulder. He read this list of odd features with a puzzled look. He wasn’t sure who you were describing until he saw ‘Named after a religious figure not in his religion’ and faked a cough to cover up his laugh. He tried not to let his ego inflate as he realised you could only be listing his qualities. However, his comical disposition quickly turned into confusion. Why were you describing him? Were these good or bad things you were listing? He hoped they were good as you were quickly filling up the page. 

Your task ran away from you, soon you had all but forgotten this list was meant to help you find a gift. You got lost in thinking about Peter, the curly-haired dork you had somehow become so attached to. You kept going, your goal shifting into filling the whole page. You were scribbling away frantically when your concentration was broken. 

“(Y/n), you’re awful quiet today. Do you have any thoughts on next week’s prep rally?” You flushed looking up and seeing Peter’s gaze on your paper. You looked at the board, slyly moving your hand across the page, blocking Peter’s view. You weren’t sure how much he had seen but he didn’t need to see anymore. You cleared your throat. 

“What if we made the spirit week themes a contest, the prize being your picture in the yearbook? Anyone who wants to participate can come here during fifth period and we can weed out the bad ones and vote on the best.” 

Mr Carter eyed you suspiciously before writing down ‘Contest’ on the board. He knew you weren’t paying attention but your idea was good so he couldn’t be mad. Peter shot you a smile and you heard Trevor somewhere in the room tell you it was a “great idea”. You thanked him before returning your notebook to your backpack. Obviously, you were not nearly as discrete as you believed yourself to be. 

After school, you drove Peter and You over to your spot. Peter hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what you were writing. You had filled three-quarters of the page with something about him. Taking a quick scan he was able to see a few words: cute, board, science, music, high, nose, funny, curls. Most of the words he saw were objective but there were enough positive adjectives that made him think that maybe, just maybe, you still liked him. 

After all this time he hadn’t really pushed you away. After seven months of trying to distance himself, you hadn’t left but you also hadn’t pushed him. The feeling brought butterflies to his stomach, but these butterflies had switchblades tied to their wings. Bringing both a ‘warm and fuzzy’ feeling but also a ‘panic-inducing sense of peril’.

You both enjoyed skating in the late afternoon sun. Peter always gave you space to practice your tricks, only giving critique when asked. Eventually, you would sit down and watch as Peter did jumps and flips over different things in this warehouse-esk building. Once you watched as he stacked pallets and some metal sheeting creating a mini ramp. You also watched as it fell apart with him on it and he tumbled to the ground. 

You didn’t get to stay long as you had work. You dropped Peter off at home and changed into your uniform shirt in his bathroom. He bid you a good day at work and you punched his shoulder in acknowledgement. 

Not much had changed around the Ole Queens Centre Theatre. You got a new co-worker over the summer. He introduced himself as ‘Mags’, you think he was joking but he never gave you anything else to call him. Mags was a year younger than you with shaggy brown hair, standing at five-eight. He was pretty chill, he kept to himself and did his work, so you couldn’t complain. You knew he liked video games and had a dog, his mom dropped him off at work and he would tease you every now and then for going to a “smart people school”. 

Nine o’clock came sooner than you expected, your shift flying by. You sent a text to your dad to let him know you were on your way home before starting your car. You opted to drive in silence, the newness of Peter's mixtape was still distracting and it made you think of him. You knew, either way, you would think of Peter. It seemed it didn’t matter how hard you tried to untangle him from your subconscious, his words and actions would grow new vines and barbs to trap you with. 

You threw your backpack on your floor before collapsing onto your bed. All in all, senior year didn’t seem like it was going to be so bad. Most of your classes were easy and for the ones that weren’t, you had Peter to help you through. 

You got dressed for bed and heard a knock on the door. It was your father, he held a plate of assorted fruit and a sandwich. He sat with you on your bed insisting that you eat while you tell him all about your day. You told him about your classes and how excited you were. You told him about all the books you needed for class and how you couldn’t wait to read them, while your dad just smiled. 

He didn’t comment on how much you mentioned Peter, he didn’t comment on how you didn’t seem as ecstatic as you usually were when talking about him. He did notice. He noticed how these past few months you seemed a little defeated. He noticed how you smiled less and you seemed to be a little more reserved than before. But he didn’t know how to approach it, scared he might make it worse. So he just listened, to anything you would tell him, to the things you wouldn’t. He was there and he hoped, for now, that was enough. 

Tag List: @andrews-lovr @brinaslittlefreak @drunkangels @ilovemoonknight @negasonic-teenage-asshole @preciousbabypeter @princesskittycatofmeowland @rudy-the-winged-wolf @whoreforklitz

[xieyaohuan]

Writer Tag

Thank you for tagging me @blindmagdalena and @saintmathieublanc! ❤️

How many works do you have on AO3?

43, but many of them are one shots and one of them is a translation.

What's your total AO3 word count?

203,854.

Ca. 120,000 of those words were banged out in just a few months during a single manic episode in 2017.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Ravishing a God (which is still incomprehensible to me as tickle fics normally never get many kudos lol)

I've got you pegged (rushed fic and cringy title)

All a king should be (a collection of 47 drabbles of 100 word -- I want to do a drabble challenge like this again for Homewell or Butchlander)

All God's children took their toll (it's not been abandoned)

Under the Twisted Weirwood Tree (my only crossover fic; I really want to finish this one even though it's no longer my fandom)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I usually do unless it's hate (and sometimes even then)

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

This is a tough one because most of my A Song of Ice and Fire fic is angst lol. Probably Heart of Darkness? Maybe Joanna (despite the relatively 'happy' ending)? But it's a pretty stiff competition.

What’s the fic you've written with the happiest ending?

I would say Spinster, which is still pretty angsty.

Do you write crossovers?

I've written only one, Under the Twisted Weirwood Tree, which sets A Song of Ice and Fire characters in a semi-modern AU based on The Purge. I really enjoyed the worldbuilding for this one!

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. I gave the wrong name to a character, which REALLY upset at least one person. I think I responded to them in good faith the first time, and then the second time told them to kindly fuck off.

I also used to post my fic on ff.net, where people seem to consider yelling at the author a legitimate type of feedback, and I definitely got a lot of that, but I don't consider that hate since it's just how people on ff.net interact.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, in all kinds of directions, but I don't think it's my forte lol.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think I might have had stuff reposted to websites I didn't know without credit, but it might have just been one of those mirror sites that didn't include all details??

Not to be cavalier about plagiarism, but my internal reports at work get stolen all the time, so with fic, I honestly don't care, since, unlike at work, I'm not actually losing any money. I think if someone took my fic, passed it off as their own, and then got famous with it, I might feel different about that, but that's never happened to me.

I plagiarized @deliciouskeys' title once (for The Dollhouse), but not intentionally because I'd been working on that fic for a while and didn't realize until after publishing the first chapter that my title had been taken.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, I co-wrote a fic with a fandom friend over 20 years ago, but we ended up never publishing it. Haven't co-written any fic since then, and I don't think I'd enjoy it.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I don't think I have one since that would require me to maintain an obsession over decades, which is not how my brain works.

What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

A bunch of fic I wrote for ASoIaF like Lions of the Realm and Fatherly Love. I won't to finish all my fic because I hate not to, but with these two, I'm pretty certain I never will. Probably a few others in that same category out there.

What are your writing strengths?

This doesn't really show in my current fandom, but I think I have some pretty unique ideas. I'm also willing to experiment and play around with concepts, which I generally consider a strength on the whole.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I lean towards GRRM's ways of telling a story, but without the skill of being able to pull it off (and to be fair, he's failing, too).

Also, I will say that writing in a language other than your native language will limit you in some pretty fundamental ways that can't be overcome, and that can be frustrating.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

The most I do is insert individual words and phrases, and I only do that for languages I actually speak.

I did write one fic in which several of my characters spoke with pretty heavy dialect, and if I were to rewrite that fic now, I would really tone that down.

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Published: Lord of the Rings

Unpublished and without realizing what I was doing: Asterix and Cleopatra, probably

What's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to?

I haven't written published any real Maevlander or real Starlander, and I definitely want to change that.

What's your favorite fic you've written?

Hard to say, but I really like Moonlight on her Face. I'm also rather attached to Ravishing a God, but I don't count that because for something to be a true favorite, it has to outlive my obsession.

I'm late to the party on this one and have lost track of who has already been tagged, so I'm not tagging anyone, but consider yourself tagged if you want to do this!

[fasterthanmydemons]

{out of breath} Alright folks, I know I'm getting on here late tonight, but it has not been a good day. I'll put some updates below a cut, but there's just a lot going on in my life right now that's not only taking away from time I have to write, but it's also leaving me without a lot of creativity or ability to concentrate. I would probably skip tonight if I could, because I'm exhausted and my focus is not really there to write, but I skipped last week, and will need to skip next week as well. So... I am here to do what I can tonight, but I apologize if it's a bit light. I'm doing the best I can, honestly. The next few weeks are going to be rough, but then I'm hoping maybe I can turn a corner and things will get better. Thank you for understanding, I know I've been absent a lot lately in recent months, but you've all been so supportive. Things will get better, I'm just not exactly sure when. <3

Okay so... for those who want to know what's going on... I found out this morning that I will need surgery to remove my gallbladder. This was anxiety-producing enough because I've never had surgery before in my life (unless you count wisdom teeth extraction), and people in my family rend to react poorly and dangerously to anesthesia. So I'm very anxious about this, and I've got a consultation with a surgeon next Monday to probably schedule a date to have this done in the near future.

In the meantime, I'm in a decent amount of pain, and I'm already on a restrictive diet that will likely become even more restrictive after surgery. I've been a comfort eater/baker all my life, that's my main coping mechanism for stress and anxiety, so this has been very damaging to my mental health to have my one go-to taken away.

While that was going on today, in the midst of calling doctors and making appointments and such, I've been working on a promotion package that's due the end of the week. I didn't want to apply for promotion because I don't really think I deserve it, but I also just want to keep things status quo. I'm fine with my job the way it is, and I don't need a promotion. But I've been informed that not applying may be one of the factors contributing to me potentially losing my job later this year, because I won't "seem ambitious enough." I'm just like... of course I'm not ambitious, I'm taking care of my grandmother, I've got health issues, I've got focus and memory issues post-Covid, yeah I just want things to stay the way they are. But I may lose my job if I don't show interest in advancement. So I've had to quickly write and gather everything to apply by Friday because I wasn't planning on doing it.

Then I found out today that the person I have to send all my promotion materials to, and one of two people who will be making the decision on whether or not I get promoted AND whether I keep my job going forward... is a woman who 1) stole my research in 2015 and rendered me unable to publish my own work because she stole it and published it first, and 2) got me laid off from my dream job in 2017 because she lied behind my back to the company we were conducting research for that I was no longer interested in the project, so that she could have all the project funding only for her lab. So I'm just like.... I am... so screwed. *sigh* My hope for keeping my job plummeted after that. That was my second panic attack of the day.

My third... was when I went out to get the mail, only to find out I've been summoned for jury duty. I mean seriously, life? Really? What the actual flippin' pancake?! I was like how am I going to manage this promotion application process, surgery, recovery, AND my students have their midterm this Friday and a forum assignment I have to grade the same day as my surgery consultation as well (the reason I have to skip this blog next week)... and then also add jury duty. After I calmed down, I went on the website and tried to do a medical deferral until the summer, when I would be between classes and hopefully over some of my health issues... which was thankfully accepted. So that at least has been resolved for the time being.

After that, I just... crashed so hard. I slept from 7PM to 11:30PM because the stress just hit hard. After dealing with some laundry that had been backing up, I am just now getting on here at 3AM, heh. So. That's. What's been going on. It's been... ALot™.

Once I have my surgery date, I'll know better when I have to go on hiatus for a bit, because I'll be in the hospital for a couple days with limited web access and then I'll be recovering at home, so I'm not sure how all of that is going to go. As soon as I know more, I'll let everyone know so that you'll know when I'll be gone and when I'm coming back.

Again, thank you for understanding. I'll be okay, it's just a seriously bad patch of life right now. This too shall pass, I know. I just wish it would hurry up, heh.

[thrilling-oneway]

OKAY N25 event is starting tomorrow and it's lasting 12 days but who cares I need to word vomit about event spec instead of doing my homework.

WxS event is Tsukasa no question unless the devs have given up on 2D:3D MV ratio given the updates. I mean daichan basically confirmed it on the stream lol. Anyway Tsukasa has never had a vsinger on one of his unit gachas so that's gonna change probably. I noticed they've been putting out cards for vsingers other than the starters/miku probably to show off the new costumes that didn't get L2D, which leaves us with MEIKO. However, she's been on 2 WxS events this year (one of which was Tsukasa's) so I'm ruling her out and am willing to just settle for KAITO (doubtful about Miku considering the likelihood of her sanrio 4* being soon).

Anyway as for the others definitely not Nene. She's been on all of Tsukasa's gachas so far give her a break please. Staff actually caught all of wxs up on exchange cards now but I'll say 3* for now just because it's been longer since her last one than her last 2*. Now the 3rd 4*. Emu or Rui? On the one hand, Emu has less cards than Rui and less 4*s this year, but on the other hand, she's been one 2 Tsukasa banners already when Rui's only been on 1. But then again, Rui needs a 2*. And I'm tempted to say this could be a wxs boys centric event given the teaser, but then again you have events like BFBY, BFST and woao which have significant characters as a 2* or just not at all. And then again, Emu has a 4* lim coming up, so her getting a gacha card followed closely by a lim is somewhat unlikely (although has been done in the past). And then there's the fact that if Rui gets another 4* he catches Miku. Fuck. OH actually WL lims are gonna make Kanade and Mizuki equal with Miku lol so yeah here we go

Either Tsukasa/Emu/KAITO + Nene 3* Rui 2*

or Tsukasa/Rui/KAITO + Nene 3* Emu 2* (emnn can be swapped in this instance tbh)

mm maybe meiko still works looking back after i finished this post

AND then for mixed event I'm still standing by my initial school festival spec. Probably Nene banner and Kami 2-A lims. Nene's last lim was the vday one 11 months ago, Akito's last lim was his fes about 5 months ago, and An's was the 2.5th lim 8 months ago, so it works. An's been an exchange card recently so 4* for her is fairly likely anyway, plus Nene pretty much guaranteed to be an exchange card on the Tsukasa event. This could be an Akito banner ig but I've tentatively got him down for White Day rn, however he doesn't actually have a mixed event stamp yet, but he could get one even if it was a Nene event anyway. Slap a WxS vsinger (Rin?) reward card and idk maybe a Toya 2* (or Rui if he isn't 2* on the Tsukasa event) and bam.

nene/an/akito + rin 3* toya or rui 2*

N25 has to be the first event next month lol since WL doesn't count as part of the main rotation and saying those a lim cards is fucking stupid they're barely lims. On one hand, it's been a year since the last ena event, but Kanade has less events than everyone else and also Ena sanrio lim. I would've said Ena 4* for Kanade event but we're gonna scrap that and for now i'm tempted to say mafuyu again i know she's been on 2/3 kanade events so far but hey if nene can go 3 for 3 on tsukasa gachas then sure. i would have said mizuki but once again. lots of 4*s already. this gives kanade the most 4*s in the game but who even cares atp not clpl that's for sure.

kanade/mafuyu/kaito + ena 3* mizuki 2* (mzen are swappable)

kanade/mizuki/kaito + mafuyu 3* ena 2*

then maybe a leoni honami event with ichisaki 4*s, shiho 3*, vsinger 2*. also this or n25 is the xmas event. and fuck knows who new year could be. mizuki? n25 hasn't had a NY banner yet. fuck do i know.

[rosyjuly]

@kritischetheologie tagged me for the 20 questions for writers game, thank you c!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

twenty!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

76,628. it's kinda insane that i wrote 51k under just six months last year.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

currently only writing for f1, but i've published works for star wars, peaky blinders, the old guard and batman. on another account that has been liquidated many years ago i had footy rpf and teen wolf fics.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

carry each other (hal jordan/bruce wayne), worked the blade (seb/mick), to the finnish line (seb/charles/kimi), spoils of war (seb/mick) and a favour returned (seb/lewis).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

i do, unless it only says "please write more of this", because i don't have anything polite to reply. but i love getting replies from authors too, so only fair to return the favor. there are definitely times when i just re-read a bunch of comments and they can really help to lift my mood or feel better about my writing.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

lmao that would be the prince au break up sex fic, someday to say out loud. making george ask alex to tell him he loves him even if it isn't true and ensuring that he can't and won't believe him... partly why it's hard for me to go back to writing prince au is because it was very easy for me to project my unmedicated depression onto george, and (thank god) i'm not in that place anymore.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mmhh my star wars fic maybe? i'm not overly fond of happy endings, the best i deal out is a hopeful but kinda open ending. out of my f1 fic it's a favour returned, i guess -- there's some talk about longer term commitment and trying and failing to say that they like like each other, or consolation prize, where mick admits twice that he's been thinking about seb.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not in the classical sense i guess or not that i've seen.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

boy do i. i mostly write smut and use it as a catalyst to nudge a relationship to another level. i don't really get the what kind? question. what kinds are there? wholegrain?

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

haven't written one yet, but i've been toying with the idea of an f1 and the expendables crossover.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

if i had a nickel for every time someone pulled entire lines from a fic of mine and barely paraphrased them, i would have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird that it happened twice.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

on my old ao3 account, yes! i haven't been approached on the new one and i don't think i'd give permission now.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

prince au aka the myth of devotion with gabby @prettydangrotten. sorry to be sappy on main but galex truly one of the best things on the internet that's happened to me just for the friends i've made because of them :)))

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

all time? propably stiles/derek or eames/arthur from inception. also it was sterek that first got me to tumblr, back in like 2012 or something.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

ugh right now it feels like i'll never finish anything again. but i have a long star wars wip that's like 75% done but i haven't touched for three years. there's a roc sebmick fic i started and i actually know how it should go from start to finish, but i've been struggling with writing this year, so, i don't know.

16. What are your writing strengths?

i've been told the internal struggle/tension that narrator is facing is pretty tight and i do agree :) i also think the porn i write is nicely physical and pretty hot.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

longfic. like. i wish i could do it -- i had a 54k wip on my old ao3 account -- but i don't have the energy or the commitment. this is also why i struggle with WTB and SOW -- i want to write more to both but i feel like they are snappy and valuable as they are and i'm worried i'll ruin that if i add more.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

english isn't my first langauge so all dialogue is in another language in fic for me. i'm not super fond of adding another language on top pf that.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

teen wolf!

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

spoils of war or prince au. prince au has probably the most of me and gabby is incredible and one of the best writers and kindest persons i know and i feel incredibly fortunate to have created something with her. spoils of war was a challenge on a lot of fronts but i'm proud of the storyline and it has some of the best lines i have ever written i think. and it got @antimonyandthyme and me very close :))

aaaand i'm gonna tag @prettydangrotten @des-iderate @grideon @antimonyandthyme and @husbono.

[enchanted-lightning-aes]

Prompt? How about more Tegan and Hwan cute awkwardness 😌

Maybe they need to get a gift for Nijiko?

Ahhh, yeah, here is more awkwardness featuring teh ladies. 😌

this got a bit longer than intended, however, i enjoyed it. this takes place in the main story, maybe in the middle of ch9 or ch10s. still figuring it out, though. 🌌🌌🌌

send me a prompt? for any oc, dynamic, fandom characters, concepts.

Word Count: 1127

T.W/C.W: None-ish

***

A row of pendant lights shine in florescence from a ceiling. Cast across several aisles of shelves. A clerk presses a button and opens a cash register, causing a click.

By the office stationery section, Hwan carries a small basket. That's been empty. Tegan moves some stacks of papers, peeking into what's behind it. She goes towards a container of pens, scrutinizing them.

They're browsing through aisles of stationery, searching for office supplies that Nijiko might need. Her sister's birthday might be February 6, however, she wants to check early.

Somehow, Hwan had to ask Tegan to accompany her. They work in the same theatre (Tegan in the backstage crew while Hwan's in the I.T area), so it made sense that she could ask her sister's best friend for help. Even if said person used to be her crush as a teenager.

They'd been silent on the entire cab ride. So, they both used their phones, barely looking at each other. She'd have said something except Tegan seemed busy. Tapping on it as if sending texts to her friends.

And she needs to break the ice. Or else she wouldn't get any progress going.

Hwan scans a shelf of pens, knitting her brows together. "What do you think Nijiko would like having?"

"I guess she'd love to have these," Tegan answers, lifting a file folder with a stripe print. "She has tons of papers, which she prints. In her office."

She nods. "Sure. That sounds good."

Tegan slips it onto the basket. "Yeah, that's one item. Extra more to go."

"Does she need another notebook?" Hwan catches a pile of journals arranged in a horizontal line. "I'm sure she designs a renovated room by visualizing it on paper."

"I have so many unused notebooks," Tegan said with a small laugh. "So many. I did open them to get a feel of the page and stuff. Your sister also does the same."

"Okay then I should get something she'll use."

"Ooh! She's been thinking of getting a glass board! But she's been busy with several clients, so she hasn't gotten any opportunities to do it."

"Has she decorated her office yet? Or she hasn't."

"Well, actually, I'm not sure. I haven't asked her that yet. She has asked for suggestions but that was months ago. And I've been busy and I sure didn't realize that her birthday was approaching soon. I mean five months is sorta far to be soon. But I guess a head start's gonna be useful. Getting a gift in advance is a good plan. And you still have plenty of weeks before that.

"Also you should know that she's learning a new sport. She has been practicing at a center because she doesn't have equipment at her home. Ah, yeah, she's trying out some tennis. I'm not sure if she told you this but she was inspired by Serena Williams. It's been letting her blow off steam. Whether it's a long day of work or a demanding client, she. . . uh oh."

As they reach to an aisle containing pens and other office supplies, Tegan clamps her mouth shut. She glances around and lets out a shaky chuckle.

"Sorry," Tegan says, shaking her head. "I went off on that, didn't I?"

"Sorta," Hwan answers.

"Yeah." Tegan's face twists like she swallowed a lemon by accident.

"You do that when you're bothered by something?" She slings an arm over her chest, narrowing her eyes.

Tegan tenses up as if she jumps in a millisecond. "Nah! Nothing's bothering me."

"Why you do you act so weird around me then?"

"Huh? I don't get what you're talking about."

"C'mon, from what I remember, you don't apologize for rambling. Unless you must be feeling ashamed or weirded out."

"I'm not ashamed."

"Is this because I've started working in the theatre you work in? I didn't intend in putting you in any difficult position. If that's the issue, you can say that."

"Hey, that's definitely not it."

"Then what else can it be?"

"I get a little uneasy with tons of people."

"Do I make you uncomfortable?"

"What? No, not at all. I guess having my best friend's sister as a co-worker. . . can be strange. However, I'm tryna get used to it. It's all me, it isn't you. Although, I'm sorry if I made you think that."

"Wait, is it. . . Is it because you didn't recognize me? Initially?"

At that, Tegan cracks up and her voice pitch goes high. She doubles over slightly, pressing a hand over her stomach.

"Wow, I. . . Hey, I didn't know! You didn't wear glasses before! So, it was a whiplash! I'm sorry for that, by the way. I guess you're probably thinking how stupid I was. And how didn't I notice I ran into my best friend's sister of all people. But I did know you've been back in the country, I just. . . I didn't think I'd see you around. Because I've been informed you've been busy and all."

Hwan turns away slightly, her internal temperature jumping. She bites the inside of her check, fighting a snort back.

Although it's been seven years since she moved abroad for her degree, Tegan hasn't changed much. She's somewhat more outgoing yet she's still gauche. Or probably around Hwan. No doubt Nijiko must have had a field day at learning about it.

At least, she managed to talk to her. Unlike as a gawky teen when she didn't speak, only hanging around her presence during her visits.

It's beyond what she imagined back then. And she gets it.

Tegan sure has been confused, she thinks in hilarity. The poor thing.

It's up to her to help her be comfortable, somehow. She's gotta try.

"Do you think she has something like this?" Hwan asks, getting a pantone book.

Tegan winces. "Uh, she. . . She already has one."

"It's difficult to find a present that she'd like and use," Hwan mumbles. "As far as I'm aware, she does eighty percent of her work digitally. She often mentions the amount of programs she installed. Just for her job.

"Maybe we can go to the mall for clothes." Tegan shrugs. "She's been complaining how she hasn't updated her wardrobe."

"If you think that's a good plan, let's go with it."

"Hang on. . . Are you sure?"

"You're her best friend, you know her well. I'd be glad for any help you can offer."

"Okay! Sure thing!"

"First, I'll pay for this and we'll get a ride."

"Yep, yep. Got it."

Tegan bows her head and Hwan proceeds to the queue, letting her be. She probably needs a moment to be composed.

Despite herself, a vibrance floods her within while she glances back. She scratches the side of her forehead, shaking her head a bit.

***

[toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account]

You read while brushing your teeth?

I sure do!

I started sometime during summer of last year. I had been just playing ad after ad for a shitty mobile game at the time (fuck you cat snack bar you could have been great) and eventually I realized it was a shitty way to spend the time when I would usually just have to spend money to complete an event in time anyway (again fuck you cat snack bar). So, I deleted it and wanted something new to fill those two minutes. And somewhere along the line I had the thought of just... reading.

And there's a few reasons for this!

Time-Blindness. I don't have a clock in my bathroom and unless I look at the clock on my phone or count in my head I can't really tell when two minutes have passed. On my phone, I can go to the clock and see when a new minute starts, start reading, and then glance up to see when two minutes have passed. Time-Blindness solved!

Consistency. It has REALLY helped with my consistency in reading. I have constantly had issues where I will start a book with one chapter, get distracted by life, and read another chapter a month later, and then have something big happen that distracts me from it for a couple months or longer, so when I get back to the book, I just feel like I have to start over. It sucks! It's one of the reasons why a majority of my books that I got for my birthday almost a year ago have sat on my nightstand, as unread as the day I found them in the store. It's also the reason I often end up returning my library books at their due date having hardly read any of them. So, having reading incorporated into a part of my daily routine has really helped; even if it is only 1-2 pages during each time, I've read every single day for the past six months, and I was able to finish a whole book with that method without facing any problems with consistency! I have read from a book every day until I finished it, and I cannot remember the last time I did that! I am also having much more consistency in brushing my teeth as well, by incorporating it with something I like.

It's helped me take steps towards solving the problem of, put simply, my brain not letting me read. Reading is one of my favorite things to do, and because of this, my brain sort of puts it on a pedestal as a Special Reward that I can't do for fun unless every other task on my agenda has been managed - even optional ones that can afford to wait another day, or things that aren't urgent matters at all (but this doesn't mean I get those things done, it just means I make myself settle for social media). That's one of the other reasons so many books I've gotten have gone untouched; my brain tells me I'm not allowed to read them yet because it's rendered doing that a reward only for meeting difficult standards. But by reading while I brush my teeth, it helps me incorporate something that my brain was convinced is a Special Reward with an ordinary part of my routine, and it helps me deconstruct the sort of... complex my brain has around reading & recognize it for what it is; something I like to do that I don't need to earn permission from myself to do. Now, I'm starting to read a little before bed as well!

Those are the biggest reasons. I don't think you were expecting an essay of an answer, but it's been helpful and it's a part of my routine that I'm very happy with! I hope that maybe it helps someone else too :>