#weekend jaunt

[accidentalharrie]

Harry's toxic trait is having the best intention while simultaneously having the worst execution.

It's so interesting to me because he is SO media-trained too! Twitter will move on to the next main character shortly, though, and maybe all the concern trolls who were worried about social media flare-ups affecting DWD can worry about MP now. ;)

[lindsayrps]

the saltwater room

it’s a slow, meandering walk back to elliot’s hotel, least of all because nell is having second thoughts about it and more because she’s tired as all hell and desperately wanting to take off her shoes but they make it there eventually. he’s gentlemanly enough to not say anything as her hand slips into the crook of his elbow, fingers pressing soft dents into the fabric of his jacket nor when they step into the elevator, her cheek resting against his shoulder as he instructs the operator on which floor to go to. she still isn’t totally sure how she feels about this from a fraternization standpoint, she certainly wouldn’t want to be the reason that elliot got in trouble, but if he’s right (and, thus far, she has no reason to doubt him) and it’s nowhere near six in the morning when she can go back to her own hotel then it’s better to crash and sleep in actual bed instead of on a bench in a park somewhere in london.

she straightens up as the elevator lurches to a stop and the operator pulls the door open for them. nell manages to make the trip from the elevator to his room without yawning but elliot draws a key from his pocket and nell drops her hand from his arm and it just happens.

"you must be really tired," he states, matter-of-factly with something akin to a soft, quiet laugh that makes her stomach do a kind of flip. it’s been doing that a lot, lately, when it comes to elliot. "no late nights for you?"

"not even when mary wants to spend most of the night gossiping about all of the attention she’s been getting on her latest adventures." nell replies, stepping into his hotel room when he gestures for her to do so before flicking on the lamp near the bed. helen kept them in line, in so much as was possible, chidingly reminding them that they had things to attend to on the clubmobile early in the mornings which meant that their nights usually ended well before everyone else decided to do the same. a weekend break from base and their duties there was not enough time to change habits like that, no matter how much of the day mary had kept them on their feet, bouncing from one place to the next well past curfew.

if anything, perhaps that made her more tired.

"mary’s the adaptable one, she can handle it. me?" nell shrugs out of her coat, not in the least surprised that he’s helping her out of and finding a temporary place for it and his, as well. "creature of habit, i guess." not that that was it, necessarily, either but it was as close as possible, she figured."are you sure about sleepingo n the floor?"

"sure am," elliot nods.

"that doesn’t seem very comfortable."

"then I’ll sleep in the bath tub." he smiles, then, and she can see if even in the low, warm light emanating from the lamp.

"that’s not much better," nell frowns. she uses his arm for balance and reaches down with her free hand to pull her heels off, exhaling a sigh of relief when her feet are finally flat on the floor. "at least let me give you the blanket and a pillow if you’re going to insist."

she doesn’t wait fo him to say that he would manage without, dropping her hand from his arm, again, and pulling one of the pillows off the bed and handing it to him as she skirts around the end of the bed to yank the blanket off as well, bundling it up into her arms before handing it off to him. maybe he knows better than to fight her on it, she thinks. juts like he could insist he was fine with sleeping on the floor so, too, could she insist that he get a blanket that isn’t threadbare and incapable of keeping anyone warm or comfortable and a pillow that isn’t lumpy and hard in places.

once he gets set up on the floor, just beside the bed, nell climbs underneath the sheet that’s still there, lying on her side so she can peer over the side of the bed at elliot. the set up feels a little too familiar, like many of the sleepovers she’d had as a teenager with her friends, spending hours of the night gossiping and talking about the boys at school that they had a crush on. she doesn’t think that’s on the table for the night—he’s not one of her friends from childhood and, more importantly, he is the boy she has a crush on.

she wonders, to herself, if he knows.

(she already knew what would say about him had any of those childhood friends asked. he was kind and funny but not in a crude way like some of the other airmen she’d known. he had bright eyes and beautiful curls and she’d most likely silently swooned over him whenever she’d thought about him or seen him at the club. she’d convinced herself that she didn’t worry about him when he was on missions any more than she’d worried about anyone else but that was also, likely, a bold faced lie and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to keep all of this to herself.)

"comfortable?" she asks, using her hand to prop up her head as she looks down at him. he’s got his eyes closed already and there’s a part of her that wants to ask if he’s just like every other pilot who can fall asleep wherever and whenever with little trouble but knows that that might open a can of worms she’s not ready for just yet. regardless, she knows he’s listening because the corners of his mouth quirk slightly at her question.

"not in the slightest." his head tilts from side to side, slowly.

"we can always switch?" she offers.

he laughs, soft enough that if she hadn’t been where she was, she might’ve missed it. "not a chance."

[local-magpie]

it is incredibly unfair how walking a block to the store and back fixes like all my problems. i gotta get out more

[heliads]

Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand. 

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[shitouttabuck]

"picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face" for bucktommy or buddie? 👀

everything’s growing in our garden

buck/eddie | 2k | read on ao3

It’s a Saturday afternoon and Eddie is muddy-kneed and sweaty in his backyard, grass stains all down his jeans and freshly-dug dirt clinging to multiple senses—gritty between his fingers, scent mellow and earthy, in through his nose and settling soft on the back of his tongue.

The fact that it’s a Saturday afternoon on his day off is only relevant when presented with the combination of factors that find him alone in his garden today. First, he’s a dad to a teenager who has much less embarrassing things to do than hang out with his father on a weekend. Second, his two closest friends are dating each other. Third, Eddie’s not dating anybody.

So here he is, carefully planting winter squashes in the stretch of soil he’s just worked, because this is a new phase of life for him and things are changing for the different. They’ll be okay, he’ll be okay, he just doesn’t want to—get left behind. Stagnate. Hence, gardening. Maybe a little on the nose in terms of growth metaphors, but hey, he’s doing it, and that’s what counts. He thinks.

He spent a few weeks struggling to put a name to the new anxiety, or anxiety-adjacent twist in his stomach that made itself known after Buck came out to him. Not that night—that night was surprise and joy and this almost debilitating tidal wave of love he tried to wrap Buck up in when he strode across the loft into that hug.

But the next day, when Buck texted him that Tommy agreed to meet for coffee and talk? Something uncomfortable wrapped itself around Eddie’s insides, a python-grip of pressure, and it’s only gotten tighter since.

He entertained the idea that this time around maybe it was him who was jealous, his friend and his best friend dating each other and having less time for him. Except that’s not anywhere close to true—sure, his Saturday afternoons are a little emptier, but neither Buck nor Tommy have lessened the time they spend with Eddie on the whole. There’s still Muay Thai and basketball, there’s still homemade dinners and beers and movies on the couch. There’s nothing to be jealous of—he still has them both in the same capacity he always has.

Which is when he plucked at whatever tendril of envy had him in knots, following it back to the root. Watching Buck blush like a teenager in the face of Tommy’s earnest smooth-talking. Tommy absently reaching for Buck’s hand and intertwining their fingers when he drops by the station while they’re on shift. The way Buck seems to unconsciously sway into Tommy’s orbit, like a Great Dane who’s forgotten they’re too big for lap-sitting.

Maybe the thing Eddie was envious of, then, is less the replacement of a friend and more the lack of any of this, any of the easy affection, in his own relationship. Marisol was nice, kind, fine, but Eddie—he doesn’t regret ending things because he so badly wants to believe in more than fine for himself.

Marisol had looked almost relieved that she didn’t have to pull the ripcord on their relationship herself, confirming Eddie’s inkling that there was pretty much no coming back after he asked her to move out not one day post-moving-in. It’s a memory that’s going to make him wince for several years at least.

He ended up naming the ache, yanking off the mask like a Scooby-Doo villain reveal to look it in the eye. Oh, he’d thought, smoothing away a smear of soot on Buck’s nose, realisation just late enough that his hands remained steady in their obliviousness. This is the easy affection, isn’t it.

Buck’s nose crinkled with amusement and the knot in Eddie’s stomach loosened for half a second before coiling tight again, uncaring of his revelation. And, he supposes, that’s fair, because it’s not like this knowledge changes anything. Eddie can’t believe in the Universe because that’s a quick jaunt to feeling personally victimised by all of it, this singularly unbearable tragedy of timing in particular.

He's not surprised it took Buck to make him realise he’s—not straight. He hasn’t even let himself think about it, not really. The fact that it’s Buck is enough to anchor him from the alarm of a sexuality crisis. Nothing about loving Buck could ever be that scary. Still, the rest of it remains only in the recesses of his mind. He’s—on his way. He just doesn’t think he can struggle through a—a complete identity overhaul at the same time he’s struggling to make his peace with the fact that Tommy makes Buck really happy, and Eddie can’t ever be someone who puts that at risk. That Eddie’s lost Buck before he even realised he wanted him this much at all.

So. Things are changing, things are different, and Eddie has to keep moving. He still has Buck and Tommy in the same capacity he always has. He just has to come to terms with wanting more and not being able to ask for it. Letting yourself want is a slippery slope, because believing you can want and believing you can have are two different things. He’s allowed to want, but he’s not allowed to have. For now, he digs his hands into the soil, deliberate and reaching. In four months, he’ll have winter squashes. Buck will teach him that delicious soup recipe they tried last year. Eddie won’t be stuck in this moment forever.

The backdoor squeaks something awful when Buck slides it open jerkily. Eddie looks up, surprised.

“Hey,” he says, scratching at his nose. “What’re you doing here? Thought you had a lunch date.”

“I did,” Buck nods, flopping himself down on the lawn beside Eddie. “Finished early. I texted you, but I guess your phone’s inside.” He eyes Eddie’s dirt-streaked hands. “Thought I’d come see what you’re up to anyway.”

“Gardening,” Eddie tells him helpfully, and he grins.

“And here I thought you were just playing in the mud.”

Eddie flicks the dirt on his hands at Buck. He just beams up at Eddie, afternoon sun washing him the kind of golden that makes Eddie’s breath catch a little.

“What’re you planting?”

“Squash,” Eddie says, shaking the brightly coloured packet of seeds at him. “How’s Tommy?”

Buck blinks at him. “You saw him, like, two days ago.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Eddie says, sinking his hands into the raked soil for something to do. “Like—how’s dating him going?”

“Oh,” Buck says, brow scrunching for the barest second before he nods. “Good. It’s—I really like him.”

“Good,” Eddie breathes, gut-snake squeezing and squeezing inside him.

They’re quiet for a minute, bird song and breeze winding around them, and then Buck asks, “Do you, uh. Do you talk to Tommy about me, too?”

“What do you mean?” Eddie asks, studying the dirt before him.

“Like. Do you ask Tommy how things are going with dating me?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. “No. No, I don’t. Why?”

Buck shrugs, picking at stalks of grass. “Why not? We’re both your friends.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Buck sits up.

Eddie tips some more seeds into his palm before depositing them into the next hole. “No, it’s not. Buck, you—obviously it’s different.”

“But why?” Buck presses. “I know your friendship is, like, foundationed on macho men stereotypes, but c’mon. Neither of you are capable of not, I don’t know, talking about more sensitive stuff, I guess.”

Eddie sighs at the dirt.

“Why is it different?”

“It’s different ’cause it’s you,” Eddie says. He doesn’t need to look at Buck to know he’s slow-blinking in confusion.

“W-why? You don’t think you have to put up some kind of front—with Tommy?”

“Why is this bothering you so much? Do you want me to be talking to Tommy about you?”

He finally looks at Buck, his life-ruiningly pink mouth ajar in surprise.

“N-no. Just—I don’t know.”

He’s wearing the same hang-dog expression he had been when he’d bodied Eddie at the pick-up game, half-surprise, half-misery. Eddie sighs again.

“Are you—are you worrying about something between the two of you? Because I don’t have to be in the middle of it, but that doesn’t mean you can’t tell me. That doesn’t mean I’m not on your side.”

“There’s no sides,” Buck shakes his head. “I wouldn’t make you pick anyway.”

Eddie groans and shoves Buck back down, flat on his back with big muddy handprints on his crisp blue shirt. “I’m always on your side, you idiot. Tommy’s great, but I’ve known the guy… what, two months? You’ve been my—for six years. You’ve been—it’s different.”

“Oh,” Buck grins, bright and broad, “is that why it’s different?”

Eddie ignores him. “Is there something going on, though? Did something happen?”

“No,” Buck shakes his head, sobering a little. “Not really. I really like him, I just—I don’t know if there’s… a future, you know? We’re both having fun, but I-I just don’t know how to have that conversation with him yet. Or… if he’s on the same page and it’s all okay.”

“Oh,” Eddie says. He turns the trowel over in his hands. “How come—what makes you think there’s no future with him?”

“There could be,” Buck amends. “I just—there could be something else.” He glances at Eddie and hurriedly adds, “I think there’s already… I think… you know?”

“No,” Eddie says truthfully. “But you know, which is all that matters.”

Buck exhales softly. “Right. I’m just—I think I know what it’s supposed to look like. And Tommy is fucking—wonderful. I just—he’s not what my ending looks like.”

He looks up, meeting Eddie’s eyes, and there’s something in there just as vulnerable as the night he quietly told Eddie it was a date. Eddie doesn’t know how to translate it, bowled over by the wave of frustration at not being fluent in every one of Buck’s languages.

Except—he might still be, because all that’s there is this—expectation, a weighty, desperate hope for understanding. Like Buck’s waiting. And behind that, the steadiness of the safest place Eddie’s ever known.

“It’s different for me, with you and Tommy,” Eddie begins, “because it’s you. I can—I can listen to you talk about dating other people because—I know that, I’m used to that. But—listening to Tommy talk about what it’s like dating you? When I’m just—too late—”

He doesn’t know if he cuts himself off or if he’s interrupted by Buck’s ragged inhale. Either way, he’s silent, filling up the next little hole with soil.

“Eddie—”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Eddie mumbles. “I can’t—Buck—”

Buck sits back up and grabs him by his shoulders, turning him so they’re face-to-face. “Eddie.”

“I can’t,” Eddie says again, voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m—I haven’t even begun unpacking it, Buck.”

“Okay,” Buck nods. “Okay. I’m not asking for anything. Just—do you mean it? That’s all I need from you. Tell me if you mean it, Eddie, please—” His chest is heaving like he’s run ten blocks and not just been sprawled on Eddie’s lawn in the afternoon sun.

And the thing is, Buck asks for so little. He thinks he does the opposite, but everyone who’s ever loved Buck knows: Buck asks for so little. And he deserves the entire fucking world. So Eddie can spare one terrifying truth.

“There could be something else,” he echoes Buck’s earlier words. “And it’s—it’s already… it could be a really good fucking ending. I’m… I need some time to… but I think it could the right ending. For us.”

Buck swallows audibly, eyes bright when he ducks his head and nods. “S’much time as you need.”

Something in Eddie relaxes, stops constricting, takes a deep, gulping breath. He blinks quickly to stave off whatever emotion this is, sinking his hands into the last mound of dirt.

“They’ll be ready by September,” he tells Buck, a little thickly.

“September,” Buck nods. “Good month. Summer end. We can make soup.”

Eddie turns to him. “Not too long away?”

“Nah,” Buck says, hand coming up to cup Eddie’s face. Eddie freezes, but Buck’s just using the pad of his thumb to oh-so-gently brush away a smudge of dirt on Eddie’s cheek. He keeps holding Eddie’s face for a moment more before dropping his hand, shifting to examine Eddie’s neatly planted rows of squash seeds. “Besides. They’re, uh. Worth waiting for.”

“I hope so,” Eddie says softly.

Buck nudges his shoulder against Eddie’s, companionable and cross-legged beside each other in the grass. “I know so.”

[lovelytsunoda]

flower power // yuki tsunoda

summary: he has so much love in his heart, and finally there’s someone he can share it with. or, all the times yuki almost asked y/n to marry him, and the one time she said yes.

pairing: yuki tsunoda x female reader

warnings: mostly fluff! very flirty at the beginning, talks heavily of marriage.

i

the alarm had gone off three times. first, she pressed the snooze button (twice) but after that, just switched the clock off. as much as she loved her job, she could think of little she wanted to do less than drive from her cozy apartment into the cold, unfeeling city that she worked in.

she groaned as the bed shifted around her, scrunching up her face as her boyfriend pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"yuki, no." she warned. "i'm not getting up."

"baby," yuki tsunoda frowned. "don't you have work today?"

"i don't want to go." she whined, rolling over and pulling the comforter over her head, drawing her knees into her chest. "i'm just going to be stuck in back to back meetings all day, and it's going to be very boring and i would rather be here with you."

yuki sat back on his heels, the golden sunlight streaming through the blinds making him look ethereal, like an angel sent from heaven as his lover looked up at him.

"come on, since the season started it feels like we barely get to spend weekends together any more. i know it sucks that i can't always travel with you, but i want to enjoy the time that we do have."

can't argue with that, yuki thought to himself as he grabbed one of the bamboo pillows in his lovers bed, gently hitting her side with it. "then don't. don't go to work. stay here with me."

"you changed your tune fast." y/n giggled, sitting up to hit him with her own pillow, a giggle escaping her throat. "but we have a really important client meeting today."

"stay." yuki whined, continuing his side of the pillow fight before he found himself on top of y/n, the sheets pulled up over his bottom half, and his thigh in between her legs. "stay with me today. call in sick." he encouraged, pressing kisses to her neck as she hummed softly, tangling her fingers in his hair.

"but we're short staffed this week. and i can't just not go, especially with our biggest client coming in today.' she said sadly, disappointed that she had her lover wouldn't be able to continue with their morning jaunt in the sheets.

"it's okay." yuki reassured her, sitting up and knocking two pillows off the bed in the process. "go for a shower, and i'll make you lunch."

"you don't have to do that. i'll just go out with samra and milo."

yuki silenced her protests with a kiss, not minding her morning breath one bit as he held her close. food was his love language. he loved cooking things for the people he loved, his girlfriend included. "go for your shower. i'll make a pot of hot chocolate while i'm at it."

"you're the best." she smiled, pecking his lips before clambering out of bed, her sleep shirt riding up to give her lover a glimpse at her patterned panties (patterned with lemons and daisies no less) as she picked up the bamboo pillows. "i love you." she called, slipping out of the bedroom and down the hall to the full-sized bathroom.

"love you too!" yuki shouted, quickly making the bed before he slipped out to the kitchen, still wearing his pajamas.

it was a quiet, simple kind of love that they shared. the kind that songs were written about. yukis status had never been important to y/n.

he heard the radio turn off upstairs, cutting off mid-song. minutes later, she came bouncing down the stairs, dressed in silk dress pants and a short-sleeved lavender button down, her still-damp hair held back by a plastic clip shaped like a butterfly.

she was beautiful as always.

the kitchen smelled like ginger chicken dumplings as she came up behind her lover, wrapping her arms around his waist as she rested her head on his shoulder, kissing his neck softly.

“thank you, baby. that smells great.”

“don’t worry about it. I’ve already packed you a bento box of dumplings and rice, and there’s french toast on the table.”

“what did I do to deserve you?” she said softly, kissing his cheek before grabbing the small plastic container, wrapped in a hello kitty patterned cloth. “do you want me to pick up a pizza on the way home?”

yuki shook his head, taking a seat across from her at the kitchen table. “I’m going to order ahead, get it delivered. should I rent a movie?”

“of course. I love you.”

“love you, too.” yuki grinned. “have a good day at work, sweetheart.”

and as he watched her walk out the front door, a bright smile on her face as she waved to him, she was struck with a simple, alarming, thought.

I want to marry that girl.

ii

she sat on the plastic seat in the airport terminal as she watched a series of flights come and go. she had insisted that they do this trip her way: an econo flex flight to tampa on a commercial plane, no airport lounge before a balcony cabin on a carnival cruise up the panama canal.

yuki smiled as he stared at her from across the terminal, a styrofoam starbucks tray in his hand and a freshly-bought paperback in the other. he knew how much this trip meant to her, how hard she had to beg for the time off work.

how she had insisted on doing the trip her way when yuki could have easily booked a resort and gotten a private charter flight anywhere in the world. it was just something that made him love her even more.

“hey, beautiful.” he said, sitting next to her and passing her a starbucks cup as she curled into his side, her head securely resting on his shoulder. “I got you something.”

he passed her the paperback lauren asher novel, watching as her eyes lit up. “baby, I brought my ereader. you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I figured you’d go through most of the books on your ereader before the cruise was over anyways.” yuki laughed, leaning in to kiss her. “I know you’re always happier when you have a book with you.”

“thank you.” she smiled before kissing him again.

she sat back in the plastic chair, resting her head against her lover as she opened the paperback. the driver kissed the top of her head, gently running his fingers through her hair as she began to read, a content sigh leaving her lips.

he almost said it, unplanned and unromantic in the middle of manchester airport terminal two.

we should get married.

the words had been on the top of his tongue, and he was so sure that he had muttered the words under his breath.

but of course, she didn’t hear him, so wrapped up in the letters printed on pages in front of her.

he could have stayed like this forever, had their flight not been called for boarding fifteen minutes later.

iii

his entire body ached. triple headers were relentless, and yuki tsunoda felt beat. he’s barely moved from the couch all day, watching reruns of law and order: special victims unit all morning.

“baby, I’m home.” y/n called softly, opening the front door. “I brought fish and chips, and I stopped at the drug store to pick up a new heating pad. I think the cord in the old one is broke.”

“ugh, you’re an angel, sweetheart!”

y/n smiled, coming over to the living room with the rolled up heating pad in one hand and the takeaway in the other. “you would do the same for me, babe.”

she plugged the heating pad into the wall, lifting up her lovers shirt so she could rest the pad against his sore back. she leaned over him, kissing him softly as yukis hand came up to rest against her ass, her cleavage staring him down from the collar of her fitted dress.

“oi.” she laughed, pulling away to get plates for the takeaway. “you need to rest up. you have another race in a week.”

“can I just not go? can liam take this one?”

y/n laughed, rolling her eyes as she emptied the styrofoam container onto a ceramic plate. for an athlete, she had never met someone who hated physical activity as much as her boyfriend did.

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response, love.” she placed the plates on the coffee table, wiping her greasy hands on a tea towel before turning towards the staircase.

“where are you going, pretty girl?” yuki asked, almost whining as he reached for the tv remote. “i need cuddles.”

“just let me change, babe! if I get gravy on this dress, the dry cleaning bill might just kill me.”

she ran up the stairs, yukis eyes trained on her ass as she went. as he thought about y/n, and how pretty she was, and how loved she made him feel, and how she put up with him even when his work schedule was crazy.

how she made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

he asked himself: why haven’t I proposed to her yet? this is the woman i want to spend the rest of my life with.

iv

the sun was slowly sinking over the horizon as the happy couple sat at the wrought-iron patio table. yukis hand rested softly against the table, with y/n tracing shapes on the back of his hand as restaurant goers chatted in french around them. the south of france was the one trip that y/n had let yuki pay for in full, private jet and all.

she had a feeling that he had something planned, but she wasn’t sure what. it was their third anniversary, after all.

“babe, you’re staring again.” y/n giggled, looking over at her lover. “whatcha thinking about?”

“I’m not staring! I’m just admiring you. thinking about how much i love you.”

she looked over the flickering candle in the middle of the table to smile at yuki, resting her hand on top of his. “i love you too. happy anniversary, my love.”

the waiter came back with their dessert: two small plates of cheesecake, placing them in front of the couple before bowing gently and backing away from the table. the dirty dancing soundtrack was playing on the radio, fairy lights twinkling in the air above them, and yuki knew what he needed to do.

he could feel his palms getting sweaty as he slipped his hand out of y/n’s, reaching into the pocket of his cargo shorts.

y/n could hardly believe her eyes when yuki placed the small red box on the table, opening the lid to reveal the small diamond ring.

“u/n, these last three years have felt like a fever dream. the good kind, the kind that you never want to end. you make me a better man, bring me back to life when there’s no gas left in the metaphorical tank. i want you, in the best of ways and the worst of ways. i need you by my side. i don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you. y/n, will you marry me?”

“yes, of course I will!” she sobs, mascara running as she allows yuki to slide the ring into her finger.

“happy anniversary, darling.”

BONUS

yukitsunoda she said yes! I can’t wait for our next adventure ❤️

Tags:

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @cl16version @sidcrosbyspuck @scuderiamh

[differenteagletragedy]

I am afraid worms have invaded my brain and they are eating away at everything that is not OUR LIFE SWAP AU

This is an AU in which Baxter is your best friend that moved in town when you were 8, Cove is the boy from the city you met when you were 13, and Derek is the boy who comes into town for the summer when you're 18. This one is a reworking of the original "Mountains" scene.

OG Swap here -- another part here -- another here -- one more here

In the ten years you'd been friends, you and Baxter had rarely gotten into any arguments. You both just got along so well, and he was agreeable to a fault, always so against being confrontational or divisive. And so for all this time, with maybe just a small handful of hiccups, you'd just gone on easily, having a grand time together.

But that night, as he sat on your bed watching you pack your things to go on a camping trip with Derek, he seemed perfectly willing to fight.

Derek had rented the empty condo across the street from you for the summer. He was a year older than you, a college athlete, and he was doing some private training with a coach in the city. That weekend, he had a few days off and he'd wanted to go camping in the mountains. He'd asked you to join him, and you said yes. He was sweet, and it was easy being around him.

Baxter, meanwhile, was being anything but sweet.

"You're the mountain boy," you told him, trying to pull him out of whatever funk he was in. "What do you think, will I need a jacket?"

"And proper shoes," he said quietly, arms and legs crossed tightly. "You'll want to bring something for the weather too, the forecast is calling for rain."

"What would you suggest? Raincoat? Umbrella? Poncho?"

He opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again. You waited, but he wouldn't speak.

"What is it?" you asked.

He looked up at you -- a glare, almost -- and said, "I would suggest you not go at all, but it seems you've made up your mind."

"What's the issue with me going?" you asked, getting even more confused than you had been. "I'm not going to be gone for long, just a couple of days."

"It's not that."

"Then what is it?"

He paused, then, keeping his eyes down this time, said, "You don't know him."

"Derek?" you asked. "Sure I do. We've hung out plenty of times. You've hung out with him too, he's the most harmless guy on the planet."

"But you're going to be going off alone with him, hours away, together in a tent in the middle of the woods," he argued.

"And?"

You studied him, trying to understand why he was reacting so strongly to this. You couldn't see a clear answer on his face, but you did see he was digging his fingernails into his arms.

"Seriously, what's the problem?" you said, sitting down beside him and grabbing his hands so he'd stop. "What's going on?"

Baxter still didn't seem eager to talk about it, but something in him softened when took his hands. He held them gently, running his thumb over your knuckles, and said, "He likes you."

"No, he doesn't," you said quickly, sure that wasn't the case. "We're friends."

"You can't possibly be this oblivious," he muttered, and you yanked your hands away from his.

"If you're going to be rude, then you can leave," you told him, getting angry.

"I'm not trying to be rude, I'm trying to get you to understand that perhaps going off for a jaunt in the woods with the Incredible Hulk that you've known for approximately two minutes isn't the smartest plan."

You'd been getting angry before -- you were fully there now.

"I'm not stupid," you said, standing up again, "and you're being a jerk. What do you think he's going to do, abduct me or something?"

Baxter stood as well, and took a step closer to you. He was so slow to anger, except when he pointed it inward, but it felt like he was staring daggers at you now.

"I just want you to be safe," he said sharply. "I care about you very much, and I --"

"If you care about me, then trust that I can make my own decisions, I'm not some dumb, helpless --"

"I know that!" he said, near yelling, moving closer still. "That's not what I'm saying, you're not listening to me."'

"I am listening to you, you're --"

"You're not," he said firmly, closing the distance between you entirely. "I don't want you to go off with some handsome, well-mannered boy who obviously has feelings for you. That's what I'm saying."

"Why?"

"Because I do know him, and I know exactly how charming he is. I know he wouldn't hurt you, but I ..." he trailed off, running a hand through his hair. His anger was turning into anxiety.

"You what?" you asked, softening. "Please just talk to me, Baxter."

Instead of talking, he took you in his arms. Surprised, you hugged him back. Then you felt his breath, hot against your ear, and he said something so low you barely heard him.

"Please tell me you won't sleep with him," he said.

Appalled, you pushed him off of you. Your anger had returned tenfold.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, the frustration clear in your tone. "I'm not even dating Derek, but it's not any of your business what we do anyway. Why you even care this much?"

He didn't say anything, and he wouldn't meet your eyes again. You knew this phase of the Baxter emotional cycle -- he was shutting down.

"Go home," you said finally.

Without looking at you, he swiftly moved to leave your room. You heard his footsteps go down the hall, and after a moment you heard the front door shut.

Then you heard your phone go off in your pocket.

It was a text from Derek that read, "Hey! Excited for tomorrow?"

"Yep!" you replied. And you were. Baxter wasn't going to ruin that for you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The next morning, you met Derek at his condo, and you left bright and early. He was all smiles and laughs and brightness, and the drive to the campsite was fun. It was always fun with Derek.

He took the lead when it was time to set up your things, not wanting you to lift a finger as he put up the tent. You did anyway, of course, and it was obvious how much he appreciated it.

It was getting into the evening after it was all said and done, and Baxter had been right -- the rain did come. Derek didn't mind, he just pulled you into the tent and zipped it up until it passed. And with his warm presence so close, you didn't mind either.

You set about situating your sleeping bags and the other things that you'd brought into the tent with you. When you were done, you still heard the rain falling.

"Guess this is it for tonight," Derek said, not sounding too bothered. "Don't worry, it's supposed to be clear tomorrow. It might be muddy, but I think we'll still have fun."

You smiled at him, happy to be spending the time with him. You hadn't known him too long, Baxter was right about that, and you didn't think he liked you, at least not in a romantic way. But he was a good guy. And it felt nice to be here with him.

"So, how do you want to pass the time?" he asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"This is your trip," you told him, playfully nudging his shoulder. "You go first."

"Ok," he said, then approached you. Before you knew it, his arms were locked around your waist, pulling you in tight against him. He smiled, looking proud of himself.

"I made my move," he said. "Your turn."

You pushed everything out of your head -- your fight with Baxter, your years-long crush on him that hadn't gone anywhere for so long you thought it never would. Your reservations, your fears, your nervousness, you shoved it all away and put yourself firmly in the moment.

Then you kissed him.

[mochilatae]

Me Time (Namjoon x Yn/Reader)

Word Count: 7.23k

Pairing: Namjoon x Y/n

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Kissing (french and other), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, clit/pussy sucking, orgasms (multiple, yours and his), flirting, seduction, semi-missionary sex, intense sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, Namjoon has money/a nice place/is a rich guy in this one. If I missed one, it is what it is. 

Genre: Strangers to Lovers, PWP

AUs: None

Summary: You head to the woods for a Me Day. When you encounter a handsome stranger more than once, it becomes an ‘Us’ day that you could get used to. 

Author’s Note: Glad to be back and I’m happy to have my comeback be a Namjoon adventure. This was requested by @worldwideseal a bit ago and I've been trying hard to finish it.

Thank you for reading. If you enjoyed it, let me know in a comment. 

Tag list: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes

It was a solid battle. A contemplation in the drinks aisle, door open and chilled air rolling over your sun warmed skin. If you were accused of debating too long, it wasn’t something you’d deny. The cool air felt nice on the sting of what had clearly proved a bit too long in the midday sun. 

A wonderful way to start your weekend: an unexpectedly challenging hike that was supposed to take less than 30 minutes from the parking lot. But that proved to be for those initiated types–the ones who made a hike with a considerable grade look like a jaunt. 

For you it was a bit more like a gauntlet of misery. So you’d more than justified it to yourself, leaning against the drinks cooler door frame, letting your profile crush against the frosted surface. 

You hadn’t heard the footsteps approaching but the voice came through. Clear. Amused. No need to look because a grin stretched the distance between the few words over your shoulder.

“Contemplating life or flavors?” 

You straightened, grip finding and holding the door handle. The chilly rush over your cheeks did something to help the panic, which helped a little. You couldn’t blame that kind of tell on lack of sunscreen or an unplanned too-long-hike in the sun.

“It’s rough.” You barely replied. Eyes popping, you grabbed the brightest color visible front and center: blue ice. Lowest on your list, but it was in your hand and you stepped aside.

A large hand grazed your own as grips traded on the door handle. 

The form stepping into your spot in front of the open case was just obvious enough: Big. Broad. Tanned just right. The kind of golden that said it was real deal stuff. No spray tan or tanning bed nonsense. 

The man leaned forward, eyes closing as he hummed into the same cold air your pores sucked up earlier. 

You swallowed, eyes lingering on the necklines. And the biceps, rounded, stressing the cuffs of his white t-shirt sleeves just enough. Suddenly you were hungry–the handful of crackers and cheese burned up long ago in the car. You’d eaten fast and should have prepared more, but now you saw something meaty. 

Something in a healthy, hunky shape, grinning your way, eyes finally open and meeting your nervous stare. Your eyes widened again. At least you kept your mouth neutral–an even line. 

He had a nice smile as selected the same flavor you’d chosen, nodding your way.

“Good flavor. You like it too?” 

You looked down, turned the bottle over in your grip, and looked back up.

Shrugging, you waved the bottle a little. “It’s up there.” 

One perfectly thick brow arched as the man offered a timid smile. He didn’t move much, but his bangs still lolled. The tips feathered his forehead, hypnotizing your senses for a moment. You’d barely noticed the world huffing up the winding trails outside the store, melting under your tank top and workout leggings.

He had the faintest sweat–something normally unappealing. He’d managed to make a biological response magical. The slickness on his skin looked good.

“Up there? Not your go-to?” 

In the middle of the only store for 45 minutes in either direction, there wasn’t room to be choosy.  Trade offs were made for a weekend away from your city apartment. A lot more space. A lot LESS amenities. 

But sometimes there were unexpected perks—exhibit A standing just within reach. 

Blue Ice traded hands as he reached into the case again. This time he selected a considerable bottle of Evian and shook it, like you’d done before. Both his cheeks developed dimples as he beamed.  

Your fingers tightened on the cold plastic bottle that you now gripped for dear life. Your throat was tight enough. It wasn’t the only part suddenly unable to relax. The reason was familiar and longer overdue: Attraction. Raw and unbridled. Washing over you.

“Can’t beat water. Perfect palette cleanser.” Murmuring, his fingers wrapped both bottle necks with room to spare as they overlapped.

“You’re not local.” He added once his assessing gaze finished at your face. 

A scoff dislodged the lump in your throat, allowing a breath.  

“Is it that obvious?” 

You boiled inside all over again–as warm inside as the surface of your skin felt outwardly when a wide, warm smile changed the entire handsome face in front of you. 

If he was a local you’d eat the map you’d grabbed from the gift shop ‘section’ of the store. 

“Maybe.” He added a wink, then looked beyond you, towards the clerk leaning into the counter by the register, yawning her way through the local paper with low lids. She hadn’t looked up when you came in, but she couldn’t have missed this guy.

“Are you?” It was natural to ask so you didn’t feel awkward about it. 

“Yes and No.” 

“I don’t live here year round. I visit now and then.”

“What’s that mean?” You watched his free hand go into a pocket, then come back out with a square of leather.

His head jerked towards the end of the aisle and you took a step, matching his as he walked and talked. 

“Family?” Your eyes scanned the shelves as you moved along, trailing the man but also debating just how hungry you felt before it was too late and you were back into the hike back to your car. It seemed just a touch too far away right now and those Oreos on the upcoming end cap looked all too tempting. 

“No.” He chuckled, glancing at you, then following your eyes to the Oreos. With a rakish grin, the man grabbed two packs and they joined the drinks, tucked against the inside, pinned in place by the inside of his arm. 

You suddenly wondered what that arm would feel like around your neck. Maybe bent over the counter, with his lips along your ear, his hips screwing slowly against your ass. Bold and full of fire. 

That kind of body heat wouldn’t be the worst thing to suffer. You were piping hot in a few places as it was. 

“I own a place up the hill.” He was stopped at the aisle end. You thought about going around, but didn’t. No need to end this encounter any sooner than it was going to be over. It wasn’t getting any less hot outside either. 

“Yeah?” You returned a smile. 

“Mmhm. What’s your name?” 

You hesitated, bringing the drink bottle to your neck and rolling it along one side. You kind of like it more than a lot that his eyes followed the motion. His patient smile didn’t falter but something flashed in his eyes. 

“Y/n.” 

“Nice to meet you.” He said. “I’d shake your hand but—”

Your hand shot out. Until now you weren’t the type for hand shakes. How quickly that changed. 

“Namjoon” He pumped your hand as he spoke again. That big palm was warm and smooth. Silky and dry. By contrast you wondered just how dewy your palm still felt. You’d spent quite a bit of time wiping palms on your thighs as you’d paused all too often on every hill during the hike. But he didn’t have to know that. 

Namjoon gave no indication he minded, if anything was amiss. “Nice to meet you.” 

Finally he moved again and you watched his back as he stopped at the counter. The employee barely looked up, coming away from the counter to situate herself mostly behind the register. The beep of each scan started. In between Namjoon made more conversation, which was a relief because you couldn’t keep your focus on talking with the way your eyes feasted on his ass and calves.

Everything from his hips down looked impossibly tight in his light gray workout pants. 

“You hiked up here then?” 

Leaning around him, you stole a look at your chosen drink still on the counter, then sighed. 

“Yeah.” 

Namjoon moved your bottle towards his selections. The girl was efficient, scanning so fast you had no time to protest. With a single blink you pointed. 

“...That’s mine.” 

He had to forget. That was it. Best to remind him. Just like him, you’d queued up to pay. Reasonable for how you expected things to go. Even if you hadn’t expected to meet someone in the middle of choosing. But that was life sometimes: unplanned, bringing pleasant surprise on the back of undesired situations.

“I know.” Namjoon opened his wallet. 

You noted several cards in various colors. Even black—you knew enough about people who owned a black card. It took a certain level of financial security and comfort to get one of those. 

He’d already paid and turned towards you again with your drink held out in offering. You took it. When he passed a pack of Oreos along after, you sputtered. It wasn’t an insult to injury for the extra sugar, or the worst thing. The cheap energy would help your dreaded trip back down the hill. 

Still… How he’d decided to be so kind. To a stranger. 

“Why?” You inquired, low and confused. Feeling all kinds of knotted up inside at his kindness and that flame still going inside your chest. 

Namjoon stepped around you and started for the door, taking your focus with him as you turned, and paced him with your stare. Looking back, he held the door open and spoke. 

“I wanted to. Be careful out there.” 

---------------------------------------

You kept replaying things in your head, carefully shuffling sideways down the steep hill. There hadn’t seemed to be so many on the way up, but the grade felt a lot more intense going the other direction, towards the store. 

Now, having some distance from the store, you felt a little sheepish over quietly cursing your decision to come up here. It was a lovely day outside, instead of the boiling, sun soaked hell you’d sworn it had become earlier.

Unscrewing your drink cap you took another healthy swallow and swatted at the tinny whine of a mosquito hovering near your ear. You slapped another away from your shoulder and marched down the hill again, taking more cautious steps. 

As you came around a corner, you noticed a form and barely glanced further beyond, where the hill sloped down again, into the shadows of forest canopy. Darkness and coolness was promised and you couldn’t wait. 

You made your way by with measured steps, almost shuffling to keep from tumbling down the trail, treading on the loose gravel and natural divots of long dislodged rocks.

It wouldn’t be attractive to go the rest of the way down on your backside. 

“Y/n?”  A curious voice, tinged in muted surprise.

You looked towards the voice as your pace slowed and  the figure turned to greet your approach. Clear as day: the tall frame with white t-shirt impressively stretched over a broad front. 

Namjoon’s face, still fresh as it’d been meeting him a bit ago, beamed. 

His sunglasses were off, resting on his head and he wiped a hand on his thigh, then extended it. You tried wiping a hand too, missing a good amount of the dirt kissed palm. Namjoon shook hands anyway. 

As he glanced where you’d been heading, you stole a once over. Namjoon didn’t look any more sweat soaked than he’d been. The hill grades weren’t a challenge for him. If he’d hiked to get to that store too, he was in MUCH better shape. You’d never have guessed he’d just come up these hills, looking unflagged in front of the drink cooler.

“So you didn’t drive to the store.” You voiced the determination, earning a raised brow. 

“Is that bad?” 

“No.” 

“I DID drive to the parking lot down there.” Namjoon motioned in that direction. “The road is too long and winding through the woods to get up there safely. From the parking lot it’s an easier walk.” 

An easier walk. You scoffed softly and wiped the back of a hand across your brow. 

“You parked down there too?” He continued, casually wiping trail dust off his shirt. 

“Not quite.” When he looked up again, both brows rose. The least you could do was a little more explanation. Lamely you added “..My friend dropped me off. I have to meet her back down there in a little bit.” 

“That’s nice of her.” He murmured with a smile. His cheekbones had a brief glimmer. Even the overhead sun couldn’t do a thing to dim his appeal. Sweaty or dry as a bone. Rain soaked. Something told you that Namjoon was all-weather handsome. 

“Yeah.” You agreed.

You watched your sneaker toe bully through the dirt in an uneven line. Your muscles protested menacingly from this tiny action. Much too much. Burning and twitching had found a nice home there. The croissant and half a coffee you’d wolfed down for morning fuel hadn’t left a single ounce of energy by now. You were paying for it now, even with half a sports drink down. 

“You should walk down there with me.” 

You were equally surprised and thankful he asked. The  company was welcoming and you needed to see his car. Having several cards in his wallet and looking so good even after a moderately intense hike? Namjoon wasn’t driving a beater. 

“Sure..” You responded, waiting just long enough to look like it’d been a little debate. 

Namjoon pushed upright from the leaning he’d been doing against a tree just off the trail and stepped towards you. Turning to face downhill, he strode forward and you followed, falling into pace. His strides were long, but he went slow enough. It was like he sussed your flagging energy and mounting fatigue. You weren’t exactly projecting boundless energy.

However long the hike felt going uphill, time bent again and it seemed over all too soon as you paced Namjoon to the parking lot’s asphalt edge after coming around the last trail bend a short time later. 

As you stood next to him, looking at the few cars in spaces scattered across the lot, Namjoon turned his face up to the sun and let his head fall back.

You slid your pack straps off both shoulders and brought it around to your front. Namjoon rifled through his pocket, doing the same to free himself from his mid-size backpack. The keys jingled as he looked away from you, to a far corner of the lot. 

“Your friend here yet?” He inquired, squinting.

You scanned. Nowhere did you see the familiar rust nibbled Isuzu. An antique by some measure but it served her father well in college and he’d maintained the interior parts enough to keep it going even now. The car got you up here and you were fairly confident it’d get you back to town. 

“Not yet.” You thought about calling but didn’t go for your cell phone, setting your pack at your feet instead. Namjoon noticed, double taking. 

“Well..” He began, leaning down and grabbing a strap, then lifting the pack like it was empty. It certainly hadn’t felt that way going up OR down the trail. “..Let me drive you? Where are we headed?”

“You don’t have to–” A tut cut you off toot suite.

“I want to, Y/n. Where are we going?” 

Inhaling, you almost choked on trail dust still lingering at the lot edge. The dread of the trip back home in a car without AC was pulling you down into despair. In spite of your friend's optimism, all the windows down had not helped nearly as promised and it wouldn’t be better now, sweaty and tired. 

You glanced at Namjoon after a moment.

“...Well.. Where are you going?”

Namjoon’s smile was cheeky. “Me? I have a place about 20 minutes drive from here. You’re welcome to hang out there and wait for your friend.” 

“I could do that.” You should, not wanting to go all the way back up that hellish trail, to the store. No way you’d make it. No need to even delude yourself. The Isuzu and the trail would not see YOU again, for now. 

“Yeah? I know it’s cliche. Stranger danger..”

“Maybe but.. What the hell. It’ll be nice to see your place and find out there’s more than a few damp cabins out here. So long as it’s not a rotting shack in the pines, we’re golden.” Your mind supplied endless visions of bugs, bears and poison oak. It was anybody’s guess what you’d encounter but there was 1 of those 3, minimum. 

“Hmm.” A playful glare leveled your way. “There’s not much land value in a moss covered single level dwelling these days. The market wouldn’t bear it and I’m not into that kind of ambiance.” 

“Thank goodness.” 

Namjoon reached where he’d been looking: the lot corner, and a cobalt blue sedan parked there. It was dusty but otherwise in great shape. MUCH better than no-AC and AM radio only.

You followed, keeping within a step or two. As you both made your way, Namjoon spoke again. 

“You can call your friend when we get to my place and hang out until they get there. Deal?” 

You nodded.

He opened the passenger door first and watched you climb in, then moved to that back passenger door and opened it. A gentle lob had both your packs situated across the back seat.

As Namjoon settled into the driver’s seat, you buckled your seatbelt,then let your legs stretch out. The footwell was roomy too. This was proving to be a good decision the more time went on. You wouldn’t have bet on this kind of luck turn hours ago.

Namjoon was smiling, watching you get comfortable. The car came to life. He adjusted the rearview mirror.

“I wouldn’t object to some food too.” You suggested, watching him study the mirror’s reflection, then glance back as he reversed out of the parking spot. He shifted to drive, jaw muscles briefly flexing before he spoke.

“I can take care of that.”

---------------------------------------

You finished the last bite of apple and chewed, staring out the picture window. 

Namjoon had more than a ramshackle place with walls, windows and a few doors. It was like something out of Mountain Living magazine–of which you were sure you’d seen a few issues neatly stacked on the coffee table in the living room when he’d led you through. 

This kitchen was spacious. More than any other cabin you’d spent time in.Even if that number wasn’t high, THIS place was impressive. It shouldn’t have been a shock, spotting all the cards in his wallet. That was plenty of foreshadowing. 

Even if assumptions weren’t fair.

You swallowed and turned away from the view, setting the remains of the apple on the kitchen table and headed for the living room. You took a loop around the perimeter, studying the bookshelf, paying close attention to the single shelf dedicated to what looked like photo albums. 

You were tempted to pull one off and go through it. But you didn’t, turning your attention to the photos on the nearby wall: lots of candid photos of nature. Namjoon’s selfies tended to be unique: his form standing in the distance of the shot, back to the camera. 

Or in silhouette barely at the edges. You liked a particularly vibrant one of his bare back to the camera, shorts soaked to the skin with water, flesh glistening in the sun against the expanse of a sky so blue it hardly seemed real. 

It looked like some kind of lake. You wondered where this body of water was, hopeful it wasn’t far, then went to work pondering how it would have been behind the lens, taking the shot.

...And what would happen after, when the picture was done and Namjoon turned around with that smile. 

A smile you’d grown to really like A LOT since the store. 

Hearing a door close, you turned towards the dark hall where the sound had come from. There was a little motion under the door at the far end, shadows moving across a sliver of light at the bottom. 

A moment later the door came open and Namjoon’s form filled the newly made space. Not long after his footsteps came towards you. When he came through from the dark into light, your senses reeled. 

Namjoon was flushed and smiling, hair wet and slicked back, cheeks plumped in a shy grin. He’d changed shirts. This one was thinner and more ivory than optic white. You knew that shape at the front of his chest and the tiny perking points. 

You blinked away the stun and smiled back. 

“You reach your friend?” He asked, walking towards, then around you, heading for the couch. 

You turned. “Yeah.” You’d hit voicemail. It wasn’t your best message and you probably sounded breathless, describing what had happened on your hike and trying to summarize Namjoon in the space of 30 seconds. 

Lord knows how your friend would take it. 

“I…” You paused and Namjoon’s head turned your way. 

“Hmm?” He’d paused arranging the couch cushions, even though they looked perfect to you. “What is it?” 

God you felt…dumb admitting this but it was best to spit the truth out. Time would betray you eventually. 

“I wasn’t sure of your address so I couldn’t leave one on the voicemail.” 

Namjoon chuckled warm and slow. You wanted to grab a throw pillow nearby and stuff your face into it, to swallow up the responsive squeal aching to escape your throat. 

“I guess I hadn’t thought about that.” He motioned to the magazines. “You could have done it the sneaky way.. That’s got my address.” 

“I’m not a sneaky type.” You replied. Namjoon nodded. 

“Appreciate that. Well.. “ He inhaled and picked up one of the smaller pillows, then lobbed it at the far end of the couch. “...If you want to call them back, I’ll give you my address–officially.” 

Did you REALLY want to call your friend right now? This place was pretty damned nice and so was the company. Mulling it over, you finally shrugged. 

“In a little bit.” Namjoon’s brows dropped. You fumbled, continuing. “...If that’s okay? I mean…I can—” 

“It’s fine.” His brows were soft arches over dark, comforting eyes again. “I like the company.” 

“Me too.” It was exciting how the confession sent heat through you. Rubbing at your neck, you realized how sweaty and icky you still felt. Namjoon’s head cocked as he walked closer to you. 

“I’m really glad we met today, Y/n. I like the isolation here but…Having another person around is even better, when I’m in the mood.” 

“Is it?” You croaked, swallowing a lump. Your nod was almost a twitch. “..You’re in the mood to have someone around today?” 

“I wasn’t at first.” Namjoon’s pause dragged on until you met his stare, gazing into the depths of his eyes right there, just above you. “..That changed…” He snickered and softly murmured “...for some reason.” 

You could tell he was being cheeky and it was delightful. You couldn’t help giggling too. 

“I wonder why..” You sighed. 

After a minute, Namjoon looked around. “Let’s get a little more comfortable then. You want to go clean up? My shower’s back there..”

He indicated where he’d come from, with a nod. As if you hadn’t watched him go there prior, the apple pressed to your lips and heart pounding as you drank in this entire place. 

“Thanks..” Was all you managed, head bowing a little. You slipped past him. Namjoon’s turn to watch you go briefly clear in your peripherals. 

“Just pick whatever out of my dresser. Plenty to choose from. See you soon.” 

“You have a beautiful bathroom.” You confided, watching Namjoon standing next to you. It was getting to a really nice addiction: you and he, just sharing this space. It’d only been a few hours but it was like a lifetime away from the rest of the world.

Namjoon looked away from the living room window and smiled at you. “Thanks.” 

What you’d WANTED to say was ‘This whole place is amazing.’, but you weren’t psychic or brave enough to voice that–just yet. 

Combing wet strands back, you shook your hair out again. It was still a little damp from the shower, but you felt so much better with the grime and sweat washed away.

You hadn’t realized just how much you’d collected tromping up and down the hills out there. Not until you’d felt the rivulets of perfectly hot water winding down your body under the massive shower head, did you really conceive how messy you’d gotten. 

The whole shower experience here left your skin humming and nicely warm. A far cry from your apartment’s modest water pressure and scalding or ice cold temperature poles. If you were honest, you could get used to this. 

“I appreciate the compliment.” Namjoon finally said. “I wasn’t sure about the head but it’s got your approval. Think I’ll keep it.” 

When you locked eyes, he winked, grin wider than before. He was more handsome with dimples. 

“What else do you do out here, alone?” You voiced your curiosity this time. Maybe it was the inhibitions washed away with the sudsy heat or something else at play, but it was out before you could regret.

Namjoon took it well.

“Alone? Hmmm. Sometimes I sit out on the back deck or soak in the hot tub outback and stare at the sky. Listen to nature. Ponder the big questions in life..” 

It all sounded pretty damned good. Beat the hell out of your couch and the usual television fare. 

“Hmm.” You stared at him again. Another question slipped out as quickly as it had popped into your mind. “...And when you’re not alone?” 

You matched the way Namjoon raised a brow. When he chuckled your chest went light. 

“Bit of an intimate kind of question, isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You retorted. “If what you do is something intimate.” 

Like storm clouds rolling across a sky, darkening the beauty with impressive danger, a shadowy energy flitted through Namjoon’s eyes. But you weren’t scared. You were absolutely riveted. For once in your normally gun shy, socially conservative life. 

“And if I said it was something intimate?”

He was good, dodging a direct answer just enough. He knew just how to feed your interest with words and the things between them. You licked your lips, feeling them twitch as your tongue rolled along. 

“..Sounds like a good time. Care to share?” 

Who were you, suddenly digging for details? Normally this was kosher for your friends. You’d earned the right, but with a basic stranger like Namjoon? You knew you had a lot of nerve. And you were taking a HUGE gamble. 

“Mmm.” Namjoon stepped close again, not much space now between the front of his body and your own. You didn’t back up, lifting your chin to keep eye contact. His smile shrank. 

“I do whatever I want. Or..my guest wants. I’m interested in being the best host I can, if I have company.” 

“Yeah?” 

Namjoon nodded. He let you take another breath, then continued.

“You’re my guest. What do you want to do? What’s your pleasure?” It was really, REALLY sexy the way Namjoon was opening his place to you. And from the energy you detected, he was willing to give himself too. 

“Have you ever done it here?” 

“Done ..’it’? What’s it?” He queried, teasingly. Your forehead felt hot again. You blinked and Namjoon leaned down a little.

“..You mean sex? Are you asking me if I’ve fucked here?” His breath washed across your lips. You couldn’t help nodding or the whine that escaped. Namjoon’s hungry stare burrowed into your soul. He nibbled briefly on his lip.

“I have. Plenty of times. It’s been a while, though.” 

“Has it?” You squeaked as he ran fingertips along your jaw and added pressure at your chin, tipping your face up more. 

“Mmnhmm.” Namjoon’s smile unfurled again. “..Has it been long for you?” 

You stammered, suddenly amnesiac over the last time you’d properly fucked. Of course you had, and the experiences rated ‘okay’ by usual standards, but work and life wedged a lot of time between each session. Forgettable was too perfect a way to describe how it all seemed now.

“It’s been a minute.” You finally managed. 

“Want to remedy that?” 

Maybe it sounded corny coming from anyone else, in a dark, muggy club dancefloor or bar, but Namjoon’s suggesting it now came off only as unadulterated heat. And something you wanted so very much. 

“Yes.” It was a gasp. Maybe a plea. 

“God Y/n..” Namjoon watched your fingers circling his broad wrist. You pulled his hand closer to your lips and grazed them over a few fingertips. You tingled as his lips parted and his lids lowered.

Whatever he was trying to say you were sure it was the same feeling flooding through your entire body. Pulsing inside you, ending right between your legs as they trembled like they’d never done before. More than any hike could ever induce. 

You cut him off.  “..Relax me, Namjoon. Make me forget everything for a while.” 

It was like the shadow darkened hallway stretched on forever as Namjoon moved, carrying you. You couldn’t wrap around him more, but you wanted to try, tightening your thighs around his waist. 

He didn’t have wide hips, but they were sturdy as he walked, pacing slowly across the wood floor in a leisurely path to the bedroom. You dimly knew the space waited beyond that doorway at the far end. And you wanted time to condense again, to bring you both where nature said you should be: in Namjoon’s bed. 

Doing things that nature intended for two people at the mercy of attraction were fated to do. 

Namjoon didn’t pause kissing you as he opened the door, then bumped it wider with a hip. You were in the bedroom, the setting sun’s rays barely filtering through the treetops outside the nearby window. 

As he paused at the bed, then leaned over it, the kiss broke. Reds and fiery orange hues outlined Namjoon’s triangular upper body as he braced a palm into the bed, finally leaned over enough that your back met the mattress. 

“Let go.” He whispered. 

You fell entirely into the bed, grateful for the cushioned fall. Your hair and limbs splayed. Namjoon’s eyes stayed on your, enjoying your slow wriggle as he grasped his shirt and hauled it up, then off. It met the bed nearby. 

Your own hands clutched down the length of your body, finding the shirt you’d chosen from his offered selection.

“Don’t.” Namjoon growled, dropping his bottoms next. Then his briefs, unbothered at the ferocity of his erect cock springing vertical on escape. He mounted the bed on one knee, outside your hip, then the other one joined and he loomed over your again, head to toe bare of a stitch of clothes. 

Sure you’d pondered how he looked in that shower when he’d taken his turn. And under those tight workout pants in the store. Now all was coming clear. All was on a platter, right in front of you—or over you, as it were. 

Your body arched, breasts jostling. Namjoon cupped the outside of a breast and stroked his thumb across the nipple. It perked and he studied the shape through the t–shirt. A garment you desperately wanted to lose. 

In the game of ‘naked’, he was leagues ahead of you. 

“I’m…Namjoon, please–” You sputtered, then groaned loudly when he pinched that tight nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then tugged. His touch was gone in a blink and he gathered your shirt, pushing it higher, up to your neck. Head bowed, he backed down towards the foot of the bed a bit more, until his mouth stopped above your navel. 

“Let me.” He purred, peeling down the boxers you’d borrowed too, and taking them to your knees. While one hand pushed them to your ankles, then off, Namjoon’s nose spiraled your mound. 

You heard his inhale. The groan he let out was sinfully needy too. You bent your right knee, drawing that leg up a little more and lifting your ass off the bed. Delivering your pussy right against his wide open mouth, swooping in to latch onto your clit. 

Namjoon sucked deep and tight, lips perfectly sealed. Then the pulsing started. He was quiet enough, only making a pop sound when he pulled away now and then. 

It wasn’t like he needed to suck your clit or slide his tongue through your folds to open them. It already felt hot and slippery. Your flesh ached in a way that said making out had long since done the trick. 

But Namjoon was enjoying himself and explored with his pointer finger, tracing it through you, stopping down at your opening. Teasing the winking muscle until it clenched again and your thighs shook. 

“You’re so wet..Y/n. You like this don’t you? Are you always this ready when it’s been a while?” 

You nodded. You couldn’t be sure it was true but if that’s what he wanted to hear, if felt like the truest answer you could give. He seemed to accept it diving down to lick, then stab his tongue deeper into you, pushing through your muscle. 

He scooped your widening thighs up and wrapped them over his shoulders. Hugged them against the sides of his neck as he moaned, jaw dropping wider open. Pushing into you, lifting your hips higher and bringing your ass off the bed again.

A lake of heat was swirling in your belly. You wanted to tell him you were close because you felt like the edge was right there, you precariously toes over and staring down into the fall. 

But you couldn’t get the words out. It was only a long, confused hiss of pleasure as fingers slid into you. Pulled out and dipped in again. Namjoon’s fingers worked to stir you up inside, drawing slick out from the depths, slathering it all over you on the outside. Making a delicious mess. 

When you couldn’t take it anymore and your chest heaved, Namjoon pulled back enough and shrugged your legs off his shoulders. He joined them together and turned you onto one side, hooking them neatly over the bend of one elbow, palm planted deep into the bed with an impressive divot.

It was so much concentrated weight focused into one point, you felt the bed sink just a little. Namjoon’s face came into view over you. He groped between your bodies, finding himself and guiding the tip to nest perfectly against you. 

When his bare cock slid inside you, it was done in a single, firm stroke. It wasn’t about the power of his thrust. It was the unhesitant drive in his hips, planting his cock deep and pushing a strangled gasp right out of you. 

Your upper body twisted, neck and head craning away. Profile bracing into the bed, you inhaled, head spinning off the scent of clean, fresh soap, light sweat and errant traces of Namjoon’s natural scent. 

You keened as he pulled back, slid a hand down your side and cupped the hip facing up, then sunk back in. The pumping was seamless. He flowed in and out of you, building speed but keeping the perfect depth. Hitting spots inside you that sent sparks across your scalp. Sent rails of fire down your spine. Curled your toes, when he circled into you and his hips snapped. 

“You feel so good on my cock.. God baby..that’s it..” Over you, Namjoon’s exhale coasted along your skin, burning hot as he muttered wondrously.

You could only whimper, nails sunk into the crook of his nearer elbow, head rolling back to keep your briefly open eyes focused on the ceiling beyond Namjoon’s rocking head. 

He murmured. Fucked. Pushed your knees high as he folded your twisted body up more. Condensed what little tight, wet space was inside you, more and more. There was only so much room and it was full–slick came out more and more as he pulled out and rammed back in. 

It was an unmistakable wet slap loud and clear over Namjoon’s huffing. He was putting in the work and you were back at the edge, now something invisible wrapping and pulling you over. You tumbled, cumming hard. Cumming quick, seizing around his cycling cock.

Namjoon’s head lolled backwards, but he kept going, through your rippling walls. Working up a froth through the creamy mess building as you squeezed and pulsed. Your throat opened as you groaned out a “P..Please..don’t s..stop…”

Your guts seized so hard you couldn’t cry out when Namjoon heeded your request and let himself really go, fucking you deeper. Harder. Jerking your whole body up the bed as he followed. You weren’t escaping–not from him. Not from the gut wrenching orgasm ripping through you. 

The world whited as your eyes rolled up entirely, leaving you sightless. Your purpose on this earth: to feel every bit of ecstasy rushing through you and sending you to the brink of human experience. 

With the release of pressure a trickle followed down to your ass. Namjoon faltered. His lips dove down to your ear.

“..Inside or…o..out..” 

No time to think meant no room for regret. You HAD to know. 

“Inside. Fill me up, Namjoon..” Your lips joined in a deep, ravenous kiss, gobbling up his moan as he shuddered. A few rough thrusts later, he was still, plunged deep, pulsing. Your twitching pussy probably felt like heaven to him as he emptied every drop into you.

When it was over, Namjoon carefully pulled back. His cock slipped out and you felt emptier. For a moment your muscles stayed open, then closed up tight. Like they were determined to hold onto every ounce of what this man had just given. 

“Holy…shit.” Namjoon wiped a forearm across his brow and laughed slowly, Adam’s apple dancing. 

“You felt..so good.” You blurted out. It took a few moments to see beyond the last rays of sunset through the window. The bouquet of colors was gone, leaving a muted, reddish haze. 

Namjoon’s shoulders flexed back as he rolled his neck. “..If you could understand how your pussy feels.. Fuck..” With a groan he combed his bangs back. 

“Worth the wait?” 

You tickled the downy trail running south, below his navel, then situated both calves on the outside of his hips. Namjoon’s hands rested loose on your hips. He wasn’t shy, eyeing your whole body and wearing the smirk of a job well done. 

There was no doubt he’d smashed your previous experiences. Your insides twitched and your head had barely cleared. You’d just come back to the present, cobbling together enough focus for basic conversation. 

“And then some..” Namjoon hummed, seizing your wrist and bringing that hand to his lips. He tucked a kiss into that palm. Leering down at you, he cupped that hand against the center of his chest. Right between those big, perfectly muscled pecs. 

“Ready to call your friend?” There was a distant hope sparkling in his eyes. You knew as well as he did: No was acceptable, again. 

“In a little bit.” You murmured, then glanced at his bedroom door. He’d left it open. His mouth shifted into a half grin. 

“Something else you want—maybe somewhere else around here?” 

“Well I noticed a hot tub outside.” 

“That’s right.” Namjoon’s muscles shifted under your palm. Your fingers curled along his skin, lightly pressing in, trying to feel more. You wanted more of him, not just the tour of his place. 

“We should try it out.” 

“We can do that. A soak is good for the muscles.” 

“I’ve heard that. ….Got time to give me a full tour after that?” Whatever he might have planned for the rest of his night, he didn’t flinch and his expression stayed pleasant. Welcoming, like his gaze following your legs up to your core and taking a long time to linger there. 

“You’re really changing my mind about this whole cabin in the woods thing.” You added. Namjoon puffed his chest and leaned forward, releasing his hold on your hand as if he knew you’d keep that palm against him. 

You didn’t prove him wrong, adding the other palm as he pressed down over you. A kiss was on the horizon and you tipped your face up. His weight felt good on you–Namjoon’s large frame trapped you in the best way. 

He was warm. His cock was tacky but already semi hard as it inched across your belly. 

“I’m always up for a chance to change an opinion. We can go have a soak and you can think about calling your friend after.” 

You offered a faux pout. “Are you saying I have to leave?” 

“That’s not even close to what I said. Definitely wasn’t thinking it..” Even being faintly chastised felt good. You couldn’t say you had the same take away back at work, in front of your boss or direct report. 

“Good to know.” You snuck a look down to what you could make out of your body underneath Namjoon. It was still damp enough between your thighs. You knew it wouldn’t be as bad as it had been still in the act, but you knew a wipe down was in order before you dared stick a toe in his hot tub. 

Call it respect, but you also wanted a chance to explore what things looked like after you’d been daring enough to ask for and receive what had to be a healthy load inside. That hadn’t happened since your last committed relationship. 

You looked up again, watching Namjoon’s face disappear as he sucked a kiss at the bottom of your neck, where it joined your shoulder. Afterwards he sat up and backed down the bed. He offered both hands to help you up. 

When you stood upright face to face, the bed at your back, you felt shy. Your legs felt surprisingly weak. You swallowed, finding your mouth cottony. 

“Let’s grab a drink too. You can show off your kitchen and the living room? You’re into photography I noticed.”

“What makes you say that?” He tugged you along, taking a step at a time backwards towards the bedroom doorway. If it hadn’t been his cabin, you’d wonder if he’d walked around his place in the city like this. What was that place like? 

You wanted to know more about who Namjoon was beyond this big getaway spot in the woods and his generous many-card credit power. 

“I saw photo albums on your bookshelf.” 

“Yeah.” Namjoon’s features smothered darkness as he crossed the bedroom door threshold into the hallway. “I dabble now and then. Whenever I’m here.” 

“Would love to see it.” 

“We can add that to the tour. I do like to keep my guests happy.” 

“And I think I like this whole day in the woods. Might be time to find out about what a weekend away would be like.” 

Namjoon’s body was against you again as your travel paused midway down the hall. You didn’t have to see, only feel and you knew he was going for a kiss. You surrendered your mouth and he took his time, tongue exploring lightly. 

“A little Me Time…I can support that–in more than one way.”   

[humiliationstories124]

New college friends get a show

My junior year in college, I went for a study abroad program in Australia. This was a big step for me. I was a naïve farm boy from rural Pennsylvania. I had never been on an airplane before. My mom is afraid of heights; my dad is afraid of water. That combination meant that any family vacations were limited to short jaunts in the car.

My social development was a bit hindered by my upbringing. Growing up, my mom's best friend had been a duck. I, myself, wasn't quite that sheltered, but I still had missed out on many of the social opportunities of my peers. My mom was a neat freak, and thus never let me invite any friends over.

So, going to Australia was my first opportunity to escape the (over)protective wings of my mother. Maybe 10,000 miles was overkill -- but I had gone as far away from home as possible. The "you must be home by 9pm on weekends" and other assorted rules imposed by my mother would no longer apply.

Although I was now free of my familial restrictions, I was still a shy guy. I hadn't yet learned how to be comfortable in social settings with other people. For the most part, my Australian experience consisted of going to class, going to the beach (by myself), and teaching myself how to cook.

One thing I learned through my Lonely Planet Guide was that there was a nearby nude beach in Swanbourne. It was just a bus ride, followed by a short train ride, away. It became my escape. The farm boy in me loved nature. The introvert in me was uncomfortable among people. But, I could venture off to the beach by myself. The beach was never really that crowded, and I could set myself up on a towel and enjoy some solitude, either reading a book, watching the waves, or just taking a nap.

I really didn't make that many friends at university. A few times, people invited me out, but the shy guy in me said "no" even though I didn't have any plans.

Many of my classes were quite large; i.e. 200 students in a big theatre-type classroom. It was easy to blend into the crowd and go un-noticed. However, one of my classes (cross-cultural psychology) had just 15 students in it. It was a late afternoon class, and thus was probably half comprised of "non-traditional" students at the university, which did cater to a large commuter population (as opposed to residents like me).

In the class, we would often arrange our chairs in a circle and have group discussions. In my other lectures, I could safely avoid being called upon. But, in a class of just 15, you really couldn't hide. So, this was really the first opportunity that a small segment of my classmates had an opportunity to get to know me, as I presented my ideas in class.

Following one of the classes, two guys asked me if I wanted to go grab a drink. My brain was thinking "no", but for once, the inner introvert was overruled. I guess it was helped that these guys seemed "normal" in class, and so I conceded.

They took me to a bar in Freemantle. With a few drinks, the conversation began to flow a little more easily. It was obvious (from my accent) that I was an American, and they asked the typical questions about where I was from, how I liked Australia, etc. One commented on my tan and cautioned me about the hole in the ozone above Australia. I acknowledged that I was aware of the hole, but I just loved the beach too much. The other asked me what beach was my favorite. I replied, "Cottesloe."

"Oh, are you sure it isn't Swanbourne?" the other asked me.

"No, I don't go there," I said, blushing.

"Are you sure?" asked the other.

I don't know why they were pestering me with such questions. I was embarrassed to admit I went to a nude beach. I pretended that I had never been. However, for some reason, I sensed they knew otherwise. Maybe they were scholars of psychology and I was not a good liar? But, then I started questioning myself -- maybe they had seen me at the nude beach? Was that possible? I had no recollection of ever seeing them there.

It's probably no surprise, I was still a virgin at this point in my life. In fact, I really hadn't even contemplated my sexuality. I assumed I was straight. I had no experience to back up that assumption. I also had no experience in identifying if others were gay. Well, basically, I thought all gay men were like Priscilla, Queen of the Desert.

Yet, something about these two men from my psychology class made me start questioning. I ran through various scenarios in my head, and I concluded that these two men were boyfriends.

I really can't explain how the thoughts in my brain evolved. I was confused by the interest of these two men. Was it just the Australian friendliness, and I was reading way too much into it? No one had ever really gone out of their way to befriend me before, and while I was confused, I was also becoming aware that I liked the attention.

Sometime before the next class, I concocted a "scheme". Granted, it wasn't all that well thought out of a scheme. It was a chess game, and I was only thinking of my next move. That afternoon, I put on a scooped tank top. It was my favorite tank top. It was probably more appropriate for the gym than for a class, but then again, everything in Australia was so relaxed (many students even went barefoot to class). The deep arm scoops in the side of the tank top gave good visibility to the sides of my pecs when I raised my arms. And, although I was no muscle god, years of working on the family farm had given me a lean body that, admittedly, I enjoyed looking at naked in the mirror.

I also wore my favorite pair of umbro shorts. Designed to allow unrestricted movement while sprinting during a soccer game, the umbros had considerably wider leg openings than most shorts. I had modeled these shorts in front of a mirror many times before. I knew that, when positioned just so, it was easy to see up the leg holes of these shorts.

So, for that next class, I deliberately selected a seat in the circle sitting directly opposite my two new friends (they always sat side-by-side in class). The classroom was just a circle of desks/chairs, with nothing in the middle. I knew that the two guys would have the ability to take an unrestricted view up my shorts. But would they even look?

I can't even recall what that lecture was about. I was focused on my 'tease' of the two guys. I didn't feel threatened by them. I knew they were boyfriends, and thus they weren't seeking something sexual with me. But, if they liked to look, I was going to let them take a peek.

My suspicions were rather quickly confirmed. I would look over to either my left or right when another student was speaking, and when I returned my vision straight ahead, I would notice the two guys quickly looking away from me.

We went out to drink after the class and several that followed. These guys were becoming my first two friends. A couple times we went to bars, and I learned of the Australian custom of "shouting". Basically, if it was someone's birthday, they bought the entire bar a round. It was a nice surprise of getting a free drink and not even knowing the person.

However, my 21st birthday was approaching, and I was nervous. I was finally coming out of my shell. You only have one 21st birthday, right? But, I knew that I couldn't afford to buy a round of drinks for an entire bar. So, I was contemplating staying in on my birthday.

Ryan and Paul knew my birthday was coming up, and at first did not understand my apprehension about going out on my birthday. "Don't worry. It's custom -- but you don't *have* to do it," Ryan explained.

"Oh," I said, feeling quite relieved.

They arranged to pick me up on Friday night and take me out. Rather than the typical sports bar where we went and watched footy (or rugby), they said they had a different place in mind.

The first thing that struck me when we walked into this place called Connections was the drag queens. I asked Paul, "Is this a gay bar?"

"Yes, it's a gay bar. But, in Australia, it's not like America. Both straights and gays go to the gay bars. Straight people come here because they love the drag shows," Ryan replied.

Still, as I looked around, this bar seemed to be about 85% men. And some of the women -- I wasn't entirely sure they were women.

Perhaps I hadn't thought far enough ahead in this chess game. I had assumed that Ryan and Paul just had "friendly interests" in me. Why did they bring me to a gay bar?

So, we walk up to the bar. Ryan greets the bartender, who appears to know him. "Guess what, it's our mate, James's birthday," Ryan says.

"Oh, so a round on you, eh?" the bartender says, looking directly at me.

"No, no. I can't," I say, turning to my two friends.

"But, you have to. It's your birthday," says the bartender.

"I can't," I reply, beginning to think how miserable my 21st birthday was becoming.

Ryan turns to the bartender and says, "I guess we have to invoke the exception alternative for James."

"Alternative exception?" I ask.

"On your birthday," the bartender says, "you have one of two options. Either you shout a round for the bar -- or you strip to your birthday suit!"

"Wait -- what?" I stammer.

Ryan replies, "Yes, those are the two options."

"Oh shit!" I think to myself. I look around the bar. There's probably 150 to 200 people. But fortunately, I don't know any of these people...well, except for Ryan and Paul. I didn't have anywhere near enough cash on me to buy a round for the whole bar. It was apparent I had no other choice.

I took off my shirt.

"Wait," the bartender said, "You're stripping?"

"Yes," I replied meekly.

The bartender then turned around and reached up and rang a bell. "Birthday boy in the house!" he screams.

Oh man, this was way more attention than I had expected. Now it seemed like all 200 people were looking at me. Although, I guess at first, they were scanning the bar trying to figure out whose birthday it was. But, I presume that became apparent as I started taking off my shirt.

"Take it off. Take if off!" a few guys started chanting from a nearby table.

I can't say that I gave a seductive strip show by any means. Instead, it was really more of a 'get this done as fast as possible'. I unbuttoned my shorts, and pushed my shorts and underwear down. I was wearing flip-flops, and thus it was rather easy to step out of my shorts and underwear. I put my clothes on the barstool next to me.

I noticed Paul pick up my clothes and hand them over the bar to the bartender. For my safekeeping, I presumed, so that no one would steal them.

Not even Ryan's giving Paul a high-five made me realize that in fact, *they* were stealing them.

So, at that point, my hopes for my 21st birthday became 'sit at this bar, with my back to everyone, and drink until it's over.'

However, Ryan and Paul would have none of that. First, they insisted we play a game of darts. I couldn't help but feel that the patrons at the bar were taking more than the typical level of interest in an 'USA vs Australia' game of bar darts.

Then, they insisted we should dance. At first, it was line dancing, and I managed to hide near the middle of the floor. For some reason, though, the 1 or 2 lines of people in front of me would seem to fall apart as the song continued, and I found myself in the front line as we 'boot scootin' boogied' on the dance floor.

Ryan asked me what my favorite song was, and I replied, "It's Not Right, it's OK" (Whitney Houston).

Ryan went to the DJ and made a request. Next thing I know, "my" song is playing. Paul points to a box (a stage/platform) and tells me to hop up. "No, no. I can't," I protest. But, Ryan and Paul each grab me under one armpit and hoist me onto the stage. I can't help it; it's my favorite song. I danced.

For some reason, whoever was the lighting/stage manner at the club, instead of rotating the light around the dance floor like I had usually seen done, was instead shining the light directly at my box. It was kinda blinding, to be honest.

Then the unexpected happened. Well, I guess it shouldn't have been too unexpected. When I used to dance alone, by myself, naked in front of the mirror at home, as I would sway from side to side, my dick would become longer and longer, until it became hard.

Whitney was doing it to me again. The beat was too catchy. And I could tell that as my penis was flopping around, I had reached the 'point of no return'. As much as I was trying to mentally stop it, the floodgates had been released and inflation was a one-way proposition at this point. By the time the song ended, I was pointing nearly straight up (like 11pm on a compass dial).

I jumped off the stage, and Ryan and Paul caught me. Each one managed to catch an arm. At that moment, a young man walked up and asked if he could take a photo of the three of us. I started to say "N...", but Ryan had already said "Yes" to the guy. Paul was on my left; Ryan was on my right. The way I had landed, I had wound up with one hand on each of their shoulders. As I tried to move my hands to cover my privates, Ryan and Paul each gripped one of my arms pinning it to the back of their shoulders. "Oh my god," I thought to myself, "This stranger is taking a picture of me completely naked."

Then, Paul pulls his phone out of his left pocket and hands it to the stranger. "Can you take one with my phone, please?"

"No way!" I thought to myself. It was one thing if it were a stranger, but this is a person I know. These two guys -- my classmates -- are going to have photos of me completely naked. But, in a couple instants, it was over, and the phone was back in Paul's pocket.

I don't remember much more of that night. I know there were a few more times that guys walked up to me, or more often to Paul and Ryan, and asked them if they could take a picture of me. At that point, I had become numb to it. The alcohol had loosened me up a bit. "What, you've never seen an American dick?" I teased one guy as he stood taking photos of me.

When the night was finally over, I walked up to the bar and the bartender handed me my clothes. A young man sitting at the bar asked me, "In America, is it a tradition that a guy strips naked in a bar on his birthday?"

"No, not in America; it's not," I replied.

"Then why did you do it?" he asks me.

"Because it's a custom in Australia," I reply.

"No, it's not," the young man says.

And then I notice that Ryan, Paul, and the bartender have the biggest, shit-eating grin on their faces that I have ever seen in my life.

[allwaswell16]

One Direction fics that have similar vibes to the fic Escapade by dolce_piccante as requested in this ask. So these fics have a mix of a few tropes including: fake relationship, tropical destination, weddings, and sex work. If you enjoy the fics, let the writers know with kudos and comments! You can find my other fic recs here! Happy reading!

Escapade by dolce_piccante / @haydolce (M, 146k)

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

—Harry/Louis—

🌊 For the Right Reasons by @juliusschmidt

(E, 105k, fake relationship+tropical destination) Harry doesn’t agree to be the Bachelor expecting to find love. He’s just hoping for an exciting jaunt around the world, half a dozen new friends, and, if he’s lucky, an amazing hj or two.

🌊 Sun Means The Sky'll Be Blue by PearlyDewdrops

(E, 91k, fake relationship+wedding) As the only singleton under thirty attending his cousin's five-day wedding, Harry is desperate to find a date, or at least a reason to get people's questions about his love life off his back.

🌊 Perfect Storm by @cherrystreet

(E, 80k, fake relationship+tropical destination+wedding) What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding?

🌊 If this feeling flows both ways. by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun

(M, 72k, fake relationship+sex work+wedding) the one where Louis hires an escort to go as his boyfriend to Lottie's wedding and to affirm his sexuality at several work engagements.

🌊 King of wishful thinking by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun

(M, 38k, fake relationship+sex work) “Just. Look I don't know if I want..” Louis scrubbed his face with his hand. “I'll pay for your time. Just come in.”

🌊 (your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones by flimsy / @flimsi

(E, 32k, fake relationship+wedding) Harry goes as Louis' date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

🌊 Sweet Dreams Are Made of This by MrsStylinson

(M, 29k, fake relationship+wedding+sex work) Louis' sister is unknowingly getting married to the ex who broke his heart. When faced with the prospect of turning up alone, Louis panics and hires a corporate escort named Harry.

🌊 Lovin' you is a gift by @softfonds

(E, 25k, fake relationship+sex work) With his 28th birthday approaching, Louis was looking forward to celebrating in New York City with an all-expenses paid trip. He just didn't expect to spend it with an escort when he suddenly finds himself single a few days before it.

🌊 Whatever Floats Your Boat by larryftnoctrl / @the-larry-way

(NR, 24k, fake relationship+wedding+tropical destination) When Harry's mother convinces him to attend his ex's wedding, he must enlist support in the form of his handsome and charming best friend, flatmate and convincing fake boyfriend, Louis. 

🌊 Under the Moonlight by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 15k, fake relationship+tropical destination) One fateful summer a silly little lie, a family vacation and an accidental meet up lead to a week of fake dating on Mallorca. All in all, a holiday Louis won't easily forget.

—Rare Pairs—

🌊 follow the sun by carissima

(T, 4k, Niall/Zayn) Zayn needs a date to his cousin's wedding. Niall's ready, willing and available to be his plus one.

🌊 Sugar, Yes Please by @fallinglikethis

(G, 3k, Louis/Zayn) Louis' ex is getting married and craigslist is his best bet for finding a quick date.

[hlficlibrary]

Hi, can you recommend some fake dating stories please

Hi, anon! Be on the look out for a fic rec coming soon (I think in February) that will have the 5 most popular fake dating fics and 5 more hidden gems! But until then here are a few for you!

'cause I want you (for the worse and for the better) by nonsensedarling / @absoloutenonsense

When Louis gets invited along to Anne's wedding, Harry is prepared to let people think whatever they want about their relationship. That's what Louis said -- let people think whatever they want. That changes when Louis sees his ex, who turns out to be Anne's future husband's son. Now, Louis wants to prove that he's an omega that an alpha could want, and Harry wants to get through this weekend without letting his best friend figure out he's in love with him.

I Keep Looking For Magic by @lululawrence

Harry loves Christmas, but this year is special. After ten years of boyfriends all failing to ever meet Harry's family, Harry has a fiance to introduce and things are looking like they will be perfect.

Until they break up.

Harry cannot go home alone when he had promised to bring a significant other again. This leaves him with little choice but to find someone to pretend they are his fiance.

Surely nothing could go wrong with this plan.

For the Right Reasons by @juliusschmidt

Harry doesn’t agree to be the Bachelor expecting to find love. He’s just hoping for an exciting jaunt around the world, half a dozen new friends, and, if he’s lucky, an amazing hj or two.

Louis may have signed up to be a contestant on the Bachelor, but he’s not interested a ring or a proposal, not from Harry, not from anyone. He wouldn’t turn down a few more Instagram followers, though.

[shootingstarpilot]

Anyway I'm actually SO PROUD of how much writing I've done this weekend, so here, have a little snippet of the aftermath of Helix finding out exactly what went down when Stitch had gone on his little cross-dimensional jaunt:

Helix sighs and opens his arms, and Stitch steps forward immediately. “I would’ve done exactly the same thing, sweetheart,” he mutters. “Well done.” He feels Stitch’s grip on the back of his scrubs tighten, hears a very faint sniffle, and then– “I really don’t want Needle to die, Helix.” Well. What can Helix possibly say to that? The only answer he could give, he thinks, would be the one and only time Needle had gone down under his watch. The way the blinding rain had plastered his hair to his forehead, and how he’d pried the mud out of Needle’s slack mouth by the handful, and the way his chest had cracked open even as four of Needle’s ribs had done the same under his hands, and how he’d made his denial mean something– (And how, much, much later, with Needle asleep, safe and warm under crisp white blankets that held no mud whatsoever, he’d folded onto his knees and shaken apart as he’d tried to figure out how, despite all his best efforts, Needle had managed to become terrifyingly, frighteningly important.) But that had been before Stitch had joined them. And Helix thinks that if he tried to put that into words, he’d just end up screaming. “I know you don’t, Stitch,” he says quietly. “Come on. Give me a hand with the blankets.”

We are making GOOD PROGRESS, folks!

[charmsandtealeaves]

Well despite a very busy week, I actually also managed a lot of reading! Big win for me personally. This week is still predominantly Jily (no surprises there - especially with gift exchange fics dropped)

Read This Week:

Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton by @wearingaberetinparis (Ch.11-)

WIP, Regency Jily, Rated M

Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun. A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's "Bridgerton".

Down Comes The Night by Wearingaberetinparis (Ch.1-)

WIP, Hogwarts Jily, Different Houses, Rated M

As the Wizarding World grows ever darker, the threat of Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters looming, James Potter – Gryffindor at heart, pure of blood, traitor by nature – and Lily Evans – Ravenclaw of mind, Muggle by birth, solitary of soul – are appointed Head Boy and Girl.

To Bring Down A Kingdom by @mppmaraudergirl (Ch.1-)

WIP, Forbidden Love Jily, Rated M

“If we do this…” “For all of time, they will say it was our love that brought down a kingdom.” A story about forbidden lovers, the battle between duty and love, and the cost of betrayal. Inspired by the film Tristan and Isolde.

Your Friend, James by @thelighthousestale

Complete (5.3k), Letters, Hogwarts Jily, Rated T

It is the summer before their 7th year, and Lily and James spend the entire holiday writing letters to each other as their relationship slowly changes from friends to something more.

Miss Evans and the Impossible Task (of finding a husband) by @annasghosts (Ch.9)

Complete (22.2K), Regency Era Jily, Rated T

Miss Lily Evans, the youngest daughter of a widow with a modest fortune, at one and twenty years of age knows what is required of her: to find a husband willing to support her and her mother. The problem? Men of the London society aren’t swayed by her lack of a dowry and brazen attitude. Luckily for her Mr James Potter has just come home from Cambridge and she can enlist his help to find out what men really want.

A Tale of Two Sisters by Annasghosts

Complete (2k) Lily and Petunia Evans, Rated G

This is the story of Lily and Petunia Evans, two sisters who couldn't be more different, but once upon a time, when they were little girls, thought their bond unbreakable.

Theogony by @clare-with-no-i

Complete (120k), Ancient Greece/Time Travel Jily, Rated M

The trip that Lily Evans expects to go on is the annual pre-dissertation jaunt to Athens with the rest of her Classical Civilizations PhD program. The trip she does not expect to go on is to 479 BCE, right on the cusp of one of the most important battles in the Greco-Persian war. Now, she has to navigate antiquity as she tries to find her way back to the 21st Century, God—or gods—help her. James wants to win this war. No, James needs to win this war. He is a man of honor and duty, and even if it means dying a gruesome, bloody death, he will go down in history as one of Athens's great warriors. He will suffer no distractions; not even beautiful ones who speak strangely and refuse to listen to his orders.

Drunk on You by @kay-elle-cee

Complete (4.3k), jily in a tub, Rated E

While on a weekend getaway with some friends, Lily steals away somewhere private to cool down from the sweltering heat and the alcohol in her system. James Potter, a (very fit) friend-of-a-friend who's tagged along, has a similar idea. Spilled wine, bare skin, and bold flirting do not help them cool down one bit.

Accidental Magic by @missgryffin

Complete (9.1k), Jily smut, Rated E

What else is there to do after confessing feelings in the middle of the night than spend a lazy Saturday in bed?

The Three-Minute Initiative by @annabtg

Complete (1.9k), Jily Speed Dating, Rated T

The first bloke Lily meets at the speed dating event is too cold and distant; the second one lacks enthusiasm; the third one doesn’t look like the type to take initiative. The fourth bloke is when she stops counting.

The Couch Chronicles by @jamesunderwater

Complete (3.1k), jily/jilypad cuteness, Rated G

Lily Evans thought Sirius Black wasn't her friend, but she also thought James Potter was just her colleague. She was wrong on both accounts. written for the lovely AnnaBtG as part of @jilymicrofic's 2024 Jily Gift Exchange, and inspired by this fanart.

Loose Ends by @abihastastybeans

Complete (1.7k), Enemies to Lovers, Thieves Jily, Rated M

Written for Jilymicrofics' Valentine's Gift Exchange 2024!! "He walked up behind Lupin and scanned the map, tracing his finger over the hand drawn lines, determinedly. “You’re part of the team now and you’re going to help me show Lily Evans who’s who.”"

Thrice Defied by abihastastybeans

Complete (2.4k), First Wizarding War Jily, Rated M

Written for Jilymicrofics' Valentine's Gift Exchange 2024! James and Lily defying Voldemort three times

there's nothin' like a mad man by @athenasparrow

Complete (1k), Jily smut, Rated E

Order Jily love confessions

Never Far Behind (Those Vivid Knuckles) by @uncertainwallflower

Complete (742), protective jily, Rated E

To wrong Lily Evans is to face James Potter's wrath.

As Good A Reason by @fiendishfyre

Complete (9k), jily enemies to lovers, rated G

James and Lily enter a competition to become apprentices to a famed Potion master.

Operation Jily by @nena-96

Complete (3k), jily, meddling friends, Rated T

Marlene is tired of putting up with James and Lily, so she seeks the help from Sirius and Remus in order to get those two idiots together. Operation Jily is set and ready for action.

Sweethearts’ Special by @tinyluminaryzombie

Complete (1.6k), Jily Coffee Shop AU, Rated T

What happens when your coffee shop nemesis, asks you to pretend to be a couple? "I’ve been staring at the stupid cupcakes for the past hour, and they look way too good. Anyways, would you be willing to join forces and pretend to be together for the free cupcake and coffee?”

Hell is Empty (and all the devils are here) by @nodirectionhome-ao3

Complete (11.4k), canon divergent Order! Jily, Rated M

When an Order mission takes an unexpected turn, James and Lily find themselves stranded together. In the aftermath of the chaos, sheltering together through the storm, a fire catches between them.

Between the Desire and the Spasm by @uncertainwallflower (ch.10)

WIP, canon divergent, modern with magic jily, Rated M

Trains are arguably the centre of everything. The sinew of civilisation for muggles and wizards alike. They are where all walks of life converge. Congregate. In synchronised traversal. Shared agony inflicted by the piercing screech of metal on metal, bonding all patrons aboard a carriage. And outside. A passing glimpse of someone you thought you’d never see again. Trains. They change everything.

Quest For Camelot by @petalsinwoodvale (Ch.10-11)

WIP, Quest for Camelot Jily AU, Rated T

All Lily has ever wanted is to be a knight, like her father, Sir Lionel. After Camelot is attacked and the magical sword Excalibur is stolen, she finds herself teaming up with James, a young blind hermit, as they embark on a quest to find the lost sword. Together, they face the threat of the evil Ruber, navigate challenges with a two-headed dragon and an ogre, and discover that they're more alike than they initially thought. Will they manage to return the sword to Arthur in time, or will they lose not only each other but also their dreams and the precious Excalibur? Based on the 1998 movie Quest for Camelot, but more plot and less singing.

The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane

Complete (8.2k), modern jily AU, Rated T

Lily's work as a librarian in the small village of Hogsmeade has kept her occupied for the past six years, forever keeping the wheels of the town on the track. As the holidays approach, she prepares to settle in with a nice mug of tea and a well-thumbed old book. When a new resident and his son arrive at her weekly story-reading, with cheeky smiles and big hearts, those plans are tossed out the window in favour of chasing love, for once - not escaping it.

Heart Transfiguration by @siriuslychessi

Complete (2.8k), Hogwarts Jily, Rated G

James and Lily have a study session on their 6th year where James starts to notice some changes in Lily's behaviour.

Get a Room by @chierafied

Complete (1.3k), Modern Jily AU, Rated T

The long-awaited trip to London goes awry when Marlene chooses to spend time with her boyfriend - forcing Lily to share their room with none other than James Potter.

The Duel by @reality-exodus

Complete (3k), First Wizarding War, Rated G

While the Marauders are studying in Hogwarts the first wizarding world blooms on their societies with the threat towards Muggleborns getting greater, unfortunately Hogwarts its not a safe place anymore, as the slytherins carry on the believes of their families in school grounds. What happens when Lilly is a targeted Muggle?

Just The Two Of Us by @arianatwycross

Complete (10.2k), Hogwarts Jily, Rated T

Head Students James and Lily face a perilous twist when a malicious potion surfaces in hate mail directed at Lily. Dumbledore orders a week-long quarantine in the Head Students' suite. With unspoken crushes lingering, the duo navigates close quarters, leading to unexpected revelations, lingering looks and forehead kisses.

The Wait Was Worth It by @rose-of-the-grave

Complete (3.3k), Hogwarts Jily, Rated G

James is trying to move on. Lily thinks it's too late. With some help from their friends them might finally be on the same page.

The Boy (In The Bedroom) Next Door by @eastwindmlk (Ch.1-5)

WIP, Canon Divergent Jily, Rated T

1986 Lily Evans has to move in with her new potion's teacher to finish her apprenticeship. There is one small issue, said teacher? Fleamont Potter, father of infinitely annoying and frustratingly fit former rival James Potter. Who she has not seen after leaving Hogwarts after her third year.

The Queen of the Quills (Jily Edition) by @elliemarchetti

WIP, Regency Jily, Rated T

James Potter, London's most evasive bachelor, an impertinent libertine, has decided to get married. He has also already chosen his wife, the debutante Lily Evans, a self-confident young woman who has not the slightest intention of being seduced by such a man.

[bomberqueen17]

i bet you thought i forgot it was friday

for the second week in a row

and you'd be right, i fuckin did

well i remembered it was friday but i forgot what i usually do on fridays and really at this point calling it "usually" is being unnecessarily generous

ok i was just explaining to my BFF (MM, for those who remember the Wee Precious Flower Prince Geralt playthru during the Dark Times) about how ADHD people can't form habits? anyway

so i remembered in time to post a chapter of Fit For Thrones on this, technically still a Friday, though i know most of you are now off on your weekend jaunts and won't see it until MOnday, but still, here it is

AND it's a tie-in chapter!!! I'm finally tieing shit back in with the Trust series! Yes!!!

So, chapter 7 of Fit For Thrones, on AO3

and if you want bonus points it's got a bit of Chapter 5 of Involved Process right in it

But to my astonishment even doing the "lazy" thing of rewriting the same scene from a different POV made me realize new shit so it turns out to have been worth it on its own merits and not just for the lulz.

“Has he put his dick in anybody lately?” Lambert asked. “That’s usually his preferred flavor of drama.” It took a great deal of self-discipline not to laugh out loud at that, but Morvran would not presume to be in on the joke yet. His role in these conversations was to be the straight man, to supply the setups so someone else could do the punchline. He kept himself from laughing with some effort, and managed to get out straight-faced, “I do not believe I’d be on the list of people who’d know of such matters.” This wasn’t true at all. He knew a great deal about who Geralt was possibly in flirtation with, but he wasn’t going to divulge any of that. In fact, Geralt’s current location was perhaps relevant to this topic, but would surely be revealed in due time. He wasn’t sure Ciri knew about that yet either. The persona Morvran was playing would absolutely not know of such matters, however, so it wasn’t a lie by that measure. “Ah,” Lambert said, and turned his attention to Ciri. “What about you? I’d meant to follow up on that.” “I have not put my dick in anybody lately,” Ciri said, also keeping a straight face with some effort. “Lambert, please do not tell me any more detail than I already have about the adventures of your dick, of late, either.” “I mean,” Lambert said, prosaic, “I don’t think there’s any mystery there.” Actually Morvran had been mildly wondering; the fellow was linked both with the mage and with the other Witcher, and while there were clearly intimate relationships among all of them, he hadn’t yet puzzled out just who was more closely linked with whom. “Say, Voorhis was it?” “That is my family name, yes,” Morvran said warily. Sometimes this was the downside of playing the setup guy for punchlines; you occasionally wound up as the punchline yourself. Playing it absolutely straight was the only defense. “It is appropriate to use for me.” “Yeah, good,” Lambert said. “Hey, is it a crime in Nilfgaard to put your dick into a man?” Laughing was absolutely not called-for at this juncture. He had to break eye contact and look away to keep his expression under control. “Ah, it is if the man does not want you to put your, ah, dick into him,” he said carefully. He was perfectly fluent in filthy Nordling slang thanks to Tiron’s extensive research but he wasn’t sure how to say it in this put-on accent, so it was best to pretend he didn’t know the words well. “It is a crime to put your, ehm, your dick, into anybody who does not want it put into them.”

[lovelytsunoda]

i've been meaning to tell you // lance stroll

summary: y/n has something to share with her husband post bahrain 2023 that might make the whole weekend just a little bit sweeter.

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. can be read as a sequel to 'baby steps'

shes waiting for him in the garage post-race

baby ayla isnt so baby any more, the toddler sitting on her mother's shoulders as lance comes into the garage

hes rubbing his sore wrists; there are still pins holding the bones in his arm together

the official story was that he was injured in a biking accident

what the media didn't know was that he was just going down their cozy residential street in montreal with the dog, his wife and his daughter

lance was the only one to hit the pothole

hence two broken wrists and a broken toe

"daddy!" ayla shouts from her mother's shoulders as y/n stroll laughs, gingerly helping her daughter put both feet back on the garage floor

ayla launches herself at her father, and lance is trying not to wince as the toddler steps on his previously broken toe

"hey, princess." he coos, hefting ayla into his arms despite the pain shooting through his arms. "did you see how fast my car was?"

"i saw you hit uncle fernando at the beginning."

"babe, your wrists." y/n warns softly, kissing her husband on the cheek. "i'm proud of you, lance.

"where is my son and my granddaughter!" claire-ann stroll choruses, jaunting through the garage to take ayla out of lance's arms before congratulating her son with a kiss on both cheeks

y/n laughed as lance's cheeks went red before she gently took his hand in hers

"come on, let's go ice this wrist of yours."

they go out to the back patio of the hospitality suite

fireworks are still going off, post race celebrations ensuing as the happy couple sit down at one of the cast iron tables

their own quiet corner of the universe as y/n wraps both of her husband's wrists in an ice pack

"you really do need to be more careful, honey. you could have made everything worse out there. i was worried, though you wouldn't have guessed it from the way i was cheering in there."

"i know, baby. i know." lance said softly, leaning over to press a kiss to the side of his wife's head. "and i know things have been really difficult lately, but i feel like something finally went right for once."

y/n smiled. "you'll get your podium, sweetheart. i know you will."

things had been far from easy in the stroll household for the past few months

they had been trying desperately for a second child, but each attempt had been met with a disappointing ending

it hadn't been easy on either of them

all lance wanted was for his wife to be happy

all that y/n wanted was a family.

"i think that things are going to start looking up for us sooner than you think."

she has a really soft smile on her face as she reached into her purse for the folded up photograph

and lance hates himself for getting his hopes up, just in case it fails again, just in case of the worst case scenario

she'd barely containing her tears as she places the ultrasound photo on the table in front of him.

"i didn't want to tell you until i was absolutely sure."

neither of them can stop their smiles

lance is pretty sure that a tear or two fell when he wasn't looking.

"we're going to have another baby, lance."

"that's why my mom is here, isn't it? to keep an eye on you when i couldn't." lance is laughing as she casts the ice packs aside

pulling his wife in for a hug, wrists be damned.

"i'm so happy right now, i can't even explain it."

"i love you, lance." y/n giggles, kissing lance softly. "you make me so happy, baby."

lance kisses her again, the smile still etched on his face.

"i love you more, y/n."

he looks towards the hospitality doors.

"do you think my mom would be up to babysit tonight? i feel like we haven't had enough time to ourselves lately. i want to take you out to celebrate."

"as long as you're buying me dessert."

lance can't remember being this happy since he held his daughter for this first time.

"deal."

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