#but I hope you have fuuun if you want to do this!

[leclsrc]

do you want it? ✴︎ cs55

genre: summer love!!!, slight age gap, porn w plot basically...

word count: 10.5k  

Whatever preconceived notions you have about your summer at the beach house are all toppled over when your parents announce the arrival of a guest, who happens to be your dad's friend. title from this

auds here… hiii :) req'd by several people! few notes... carlos is aged up a tad, the age gap is 21/33 so not too bad (i aged him up bc the age gap was 7 yrs and i was like. Huh. thats tame). if ur not into that (tho everything is consensual and reader is legal) its ok! anyway im sorry this came so late i had like 6 anons asking ab carlos and lana haha. also big thanks to dani whose work got me thru 4 writing ruts

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... sexual tension, penetrative sex, dry humping, oral sex (m and f receiving), deepthroating, semi public sex ish?, praise central, size kink, like a flash of spit kink sorry..., overuse of the term good girl

Half past noon and after a particularly snappy call from his manager, Carlos bites the bullet on summer plans and decides to accept what is arguably the least glamorous offer on his roster. By no means a dazzling standout, the offer to stay at a family friend’s house in Comporta seems to be the most comfortable option—besides, he doesn’t feel himself to be in the glitzy mood for cities like Los Angeles or Monaco.

Lando, beside him, is thus the first to get wind of the news that “grumpy old man” Carlos will not be accompanying him to the ultimate, tequila-flavored “summer extravaganza” in Morocco.

“You’re boring,” Lando moans, pacing the room. Outside, London’s skyline moves passively. Carlos hangs up his phone call with his assistant, receives a picture of his flight details, and looks up amusedly.

“Portugal is not boring.”

“Morocco. DJs, drinks, girls.” Lando raises one hand. “Comporta. Family friends, apple cider, sand in your eyes.” He raises another hand a few inches lower. “See the difference?”

“I appreciate the difference.” Truth is, Carlos has needed this kind of quiet, calm time off for a while now. The season gets heavy and intense and tiring, and sometimes just staying by the beach with a beer is the best kind of reprieve.

“You’re getting old,” Lando says with a sour grimace. “Old.”

“That is,” Carlos says, searching for the word, “defamation.”

Lando shrugs, moves off the subject as he shoves a handful of crisps into his mouth. “Are you meeting family there?”

“No.” Both of his parents are out of the country for the next few weeks; Carlos was invited by his dad’s friend, though the bond they share is more friendly than just the standard uncle-nephew type of relationship, and they often refer to each other as just friends. “Just friends. Gallery owner and a company owner, I think.”

Lando whistles. “Rich.”

In response, Carlos nods. “And their daughter, who’s visiting from university in the States.” The details are fuzzy in his head, but the gist is about right.

“Sounds boring,” his friend snorts. “Come on, mate. You, me, Daniel. One last chance to watch Peggy Gou’s set and take shots and have fuuun.” He says the last part with the suave that would only rival a preteen’s.

Carlos, for a second, lets his resolve waver. Maybe it would be better watching loud DJ sets, dancing, getting all flushed with alcohol. But he blinks and shakes his head anyway. He hopes his decision is the right one, that summer in the beach house ends up being worth it. It’s a few weeks by the beach, anyway—what’s the worst that could happen?

—

Any recollection of your childhood almost instantly connects to the beach house in Comporta, big and wide and right by the coast. You spent fall, winter, and spring in a constant bumbling state of excitement to spend summer there. Your parents owned it, and often offered family friends to take up residence there when summers in the city got unbearable; for the most part, though, it was the three of you and, on rare years, a guest.

Your summers there have since smudged into the same few memories, of your mum and dad’s faces, of swimming and the learning curve of sailing, of bonfires by the beach on cold nights. And they have since become just that: memories. Summers grew sparse with time, and eventually the idea of meeting distant family friends became more embarrassing than exciting; by the time your parents moved you out of Europe for college, you’d lost almost all memory of the house.

So when your parents ask if you want to fly back to Comporta and spend a few “quiet” weeks there, you figure there’s no harm in seeing what the house is like and what summer can offer you beyond the weekly club outings. Instead of the usual quiet and overall lack-of-bustle that comes with summers, however, you open the front door to three housekeepers dusting every surface in your immediate eyesight.

“Are we hosting a wedding?” You ask when you find your parents tending to two sweaty glasses of champagne. You gesture faintly to the cleanfest inside. “What is going on?”

“We have a guest,” your mother says as she gets up to hug you tight. “Staying for the summer.”

“You said this summer would be quiet,” you deadpan, eyes narrowing underneath your sunglasses.

Your mum pinches your elbow. “I wasn’t lying,” she defends, raising her eyebrows. “Carlos’ son is coming.” She pats your arm. “You know? The race driver! He’s close with your father.” And, leaving no space for you to voice your dissent, she slips back into the house through the screen door, your father kissing your cheek then following suit. Your mouth parts, thoughts beginning to rush with implications of what your mother has just told you.

Carlos—if you’re correct—is Carlos Sainz, Sr., a good friend of your dad’s, and his son is Carlos Sainz, Jr., another good friend of your dad’s, because if there’s one thing rich Europeans do well, it’s the repetition of names. You’ve never met his son, only heard of him and seen a few pictures, but being so far detached from life here, you can’t even shape his face.

All you recall is the fact that he should now be thirty or older, which makes him rather older than you—and therefore effectively incapable of providing any break from any possible summer boredom. For fuck’s sake, he’s close to your dad. You’re at the top of the stairs when you hear the commotion by the front door, peeking at the foyer to catch a glimpse of him.

He’s solo, you observe; upon a glance into the front parking, you notice he’s driven here in a Ferrari, one a bit too modern for your taste but beautiful nevertheless. He carries only two pieces of luggage, and the sun blinds you for a moment before he’s finally at the doorframe, smiling politely, talking to your dad in casual Spanish.

He is, for lack of better word, insanely handsome. He wears a polo that shows off much of his arms, that flex as he puts down his luggage to shake hands with your parents; you follow the movement of his hands to watch one comb through his thick hair, then down to his smile, back up to his brown eyes, deep and so, so pretty.

Maybe this summer deserves a little less begrudge, you decide as you retreat back into your room, still brewing with residual annoyance.

Your parents send him off after a drink and a brief conversation, catch-up, tour of the downstairs area. Carlos knows his room is supposed to be upstairs, but the problem arises in the fact that there are two upstairs rooms and he doesn’t know which one he’s supposed to be staying in. Setting his luggage down for a minute, he knocks on the first door; permissive silence greets him for half a minute, so he turns the knob and prepares to enter.

To his surprise, he finds somebody already inside, a figure by the mirror on the other end of the room. What catches his eye is not the tiny skirt, but the half-tied bikini top currently being wound around two fingers at the centre of your back. You’re basically clothed, but Carlos can’t decide if he’s thankful or not—he doesn’t have time to when you catch him in the mirror and turn around quick, mouth agape.

“Can’t you knock?!” You ask, catty.

“I did—I knocked, but you—there was no answer,” he explains profusely. “I’m Carlos. Sorry, apologies. Truly.”

You introduce yourself. You’re his friend’s daughter, this and that, and you’re visiting from the States to spend summer here. He apologizes again when you finish. 

“Well, seeing as though this is my room,” you shoot back, “that must be yours.” You gesture vaguely to the one down the hall. Amused and a little embarrassed, he mouths apologies as he closes the door.

Carlos exits, departs and doesn’t have time to take in the room before he’s facedown on the bed. Any sleepiness he’d collected from the trip over, from the day drinks, from the headache that’d been blooming at the temples of his head, has dissipated. His mind’s been imprinted with one image only, and it’s down the hall in a tiny skirt.

—

Lunch brings lemonade and pasta, two staples for every summer meal. You, however, find yourself hopelessly distracted by the presence of your guest, and despite your best efforts, the churn in your stomach disables you from fully enjoying the carbonara on the table. The conversation between Carlos and your dad ends up taking your attention instead. “So you’re racing again in a few weeks?”

“Sí,” Carlos nods in-between forkfuls. Then, to add, “Busy, busy times.”

“Well. It’s the worst of our days,” your mum says, a quote she picked up from—of all places—a BBC sitcom she watched to tears last winter. “You are a talented driver, Carlos. Very cultured. I’m sure you’ll enjoy Comporta.”

“I have not been around much,” he says; his gaze flutters over to his glass, which is devoid of water or lemonade. “Any recommendations?”

“A lot, cabrón. Our daughter will be happy to take you around,” your father says on your behalf. He turns to you. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, sure,” you say, allowing a terse smile. “There’s some places around here that aren’t so boring. But that’s being generous.” Carlos laughs at your joke, raucous and goofy, and you would definitely be lying if you told yourself it didn’t get you blushing a little bit, eyes casting themselves to your still-full plate.

“While you’re here, Carlos,” your dad continues, “I have an old car in the garage that could use some looking at. Are you—would you know how to—?”

Carlos nods, accepting the favor—then the conversation naturally slides into one of cars and racing. Carlos chronicles his journey in Formula One, his Toro Rosso days back then when he was younger, his McLaren period, and now, his time representing Ferrari. He talks of pet peeves on the grid, annoyances but also praises for the sport.

“I’d appreciate the downtime, actually,” he explains, “that I’d get from working on a car instead of in one.” He laughs, eyes briefly meeting yours. He looks away, then looks again. He can’t help himself. He wonders if he’s being obvious, if you can tell the way his looks are anything but casual. “Can you pour me a glass?” He adds.

“Yeah,” you mutter, sitting straight to pour lemonade into his waiting glass. You meet his eyes and almost pour it over the pasta. The rest of the lunch is uneventful, a series of adult conversation you can’t seem to engage yourself in fully, and whether that’s because of personal preference or Carlos’ presence, you don’t make an effort to try.

“…ney. Honey.” Your mum’s voice distracts you from your thoughts; when you look up, half the table is clear and Carlos and your dad have ventured inside to deposit plates at the sink. 

“Sorry. Wh—sorry, what?” You blink.

“Your father and I are heading out for the evening. Carlos will be working on the car. That okay, or you want to come along?”

“Um…” You pretend the latter is even an option before shaking your head. “No, I’ll stay.”

“Good.” She strokes your hair. “He could use the company.”

You follow her walking figure inside, where you station your eyes on Carlos. He’s sipping a lemonade. His eyes meet yours for a second and your face is outrageously flushed when you realize you’ve been caught staring, just like his had been earlier when he walked into your room.

—

You’re hellbent on solving a Sudoku puzzle when the dinner bell rings, and you have to finish it on the stairs. Your dad’s always been a stickler for arriving to dinner on time—every meal, but a gargantuan emphasis on the last—and you’ve been victim to scoldings about being five to six minutes late, an instance you don't wish to repeat.

9, you scribble, bare feet moving with speed through the living room, indoor dining room, then to the patio door. 4 comes next, your footsteps following the smell of grilled meat. 8, you write as you turn into the outdoor dining area. You’re halfway through 2 when you stop, look up, and find Carlos preparing dinner.

“Oh—” You pause. “You rang the dinner bell? Are my parents not…?”

“They are at a dinner,” says Carlos, eyes meeting yours briefly. It reminds you of earlier and you clear your throat, looking away. “So I hope my cooking is good enough.”

“It smells great,” you offer, seating yourself down and pouring a glass of wine. He sets the plate down—just-cut steak, a smear of potatoes. “Christ, you cook better than Dad.”

“I take that as a compliment,” he laughs, sitting across you. “Listen, I want to apologize for accidentally walking into your room earlier.”

Your face warms. “No, it’s okay. I was just surprised.”

“It was wrong of me. Let’s start over. I’m Carlos.” He reaches over to shake your hand, still standing. You take it, eyes flitting over his hand, spotting no glinting ring on his finger. With a saccharine smile, you assure him it was an honest mistake, so he segues into a different topic, the corners of his mouth turning up. “So, do you have an itinerary for me tomorrow?”

You hum, passing the wine over to him. “A bookstore, an ice cream parlor, and a bike ride. Anything else is seriously not worth it. You’ll have the next few weeks to explore town. If the house gets that boring.”

“I haven’t been bored so far,” he says, eyes glinting.

“Oh?”

“You know, with the car fixing.” He points vaguely to where the garage is. “But it’s only been a day.”

“Car fixing is boring,” you state matter-of-factly. “You’ll have fun tomorrow.” You cut into the steak and bite into the forkful you stab at, eyes fluttering.

“Good?” Carlos asks, smiling a little.

“I love it,” you mumble. “You’re so good at this, Carlos.”

Carlos retires to his room that night, and finds that today has held a collective motif of losing his shit. He’s anything but sleepy. Restless, wild-eyed, combing hand after hand through his hair. God, if he’d known you were this pretty—this hard to resist, on his first night here, no less—he would’ve been watching some DJ spin out a set with Lando right now.

Instead, he finds he can’t stop himself from thinking about you, the way your eyes had fluttered when he tried saying something on the edge of flirty. Your hair. Your hands, your fingers, lithe around the stem of your wine glass.

I love it, you’d said, you’re so good at this, Carlos. You knew exactly what you were doing, skittish tone putting him on edge. Despite himself, he can’t help but squeeze himself through his pants when he sits down on the edge of the bed, breathing heavy to purge himself of thoughts so low and dirty.

You’re so pretty. You’d be so easy to wreck, make his, goad little moans out of you, get your lips around him, puffy and pink and pretty. He wedges his eyes shut tight and hopes these thoughts will dissipate as the week passes.

Something tells him he’s wrong, though.

—

The tour is delayed because your dad insists he go fishing with Carlos three days in a row, but eventually (likely due to your mum’s insistence) it pushes through. You greet him with a smile, waiting by the door, wearing a sundress. Sundresses will definitely be his demise.

You’re a good tour guide, though, Carlos figures when you’re finished pointing at every turn and sign and dictating what goes where and where the passage to the coast is, when you’ve even quizzed him about where you are and where the house is supposed to be.

After he points in the correct direction, you nod approvingly. “That’s how my dad made sure I wouldn’t get lost,” you explain when he laughs at your choice of tour guidance. 

“And you were what—twelve?” He asks, walking beside you. It’s fairly empty in town, a few tourists mulling about carrying shopping bags and plastic cups of juice.

“Try fourteen,” you argue. 

“Well, quizzing a, uh—a fourteen-year-old is really not the same as quizzing a grown adult.”

“Ha. Call me when you can’t find your way home tonight,” you diss sarcastically, making a turn toward the bookstore down the street. “Okay, here we are. Don’t get too excited. They’re just books.”

For a relatively empty town, the bookstore always has new batches of titles, displayed proudly for natives and tourists alike front and centre. But you’re already going to the right side of the store, busying yourself with looking at the signs. 

“The classics shelf is always my favorite,” you say, already walking ahead of him. Your dress bobs softly with your legs as you pace, short and sweet and white. You turn and his eyes slide back up instantly, and he hopes he was quick enough. “Do you have any authors you like?”

“I am not a big reader. You?”

“Huge,” you say, smiling a little. “Okay, we can browse. Are you into any genre…?”

Carlos proceeds to tell you his track record in the literary field includes: reading half the Harry Potter series, a car manual, and a few other titles in Spanish he cannot recall the name or plot of. But, he adds, he’s always wanted to read, found the activity so quiet and still and perfect, so he allows you to lead him through the titles stacked on each table and condensed on each shelf. He points at, sometimes, or picks up covers he finds appealing.

“How about—?” He reaches for a pink cover that reads It Ends With Us, but your hand loops around his wrist before he can pick it up and you’re pulling him into another aisle.

“…Not that.” You continue perusing the books around you, your hand still wrapped around his. With your free finger, you point at the top shelf, and tiptoe against the bookcase to try and get it. You come close, but not close enough.

Carlos, behind you, is successful, not even needing to tiptoe to reach for the red hardbound you’d been pointing at. It also means he’s pressed up against you, heavy and big, and the sensation dizzies you. When he finally pulls it off, you turn to him and find respite in the proximity—you two are so close, every exhale out of your lips causes a puff of air to blow against his hair.

He steps backward. You smile and gesture toward the book he’s holding. “That’s a good one.”

“Gabriel Garcia Marquez.” He reads out the author’s name in one fluid sentence, his Spanish accent becoming naturally more obvious.

“Okay, colonizer.” He knits his brows. “Trust me,” you insist. “One Hundred Years of Solitude—so good. It was one of the first books I read front to back twice in a row.”

“Wow, what an honor,” he teases sarcastically as you move along the aisle, fingertips brushing against the indents of the books. You turn to narrow your eyes and stick your tongue out. Unfortunately for Carlos, the effect this inflicts upon him is not oh she mocked me, but oh how would it look if—

He needs ice cream. Or to just get out of this aisle.

—

You punctuate the day with two cones of it, melting way too fast in the heat of summer. He’s already half-finished with his vanilla, and you’re taking your time with the lemon sorbet you’d gotten for yourself. Apparently, this is the only other highlight the town has to offer, and judging by the fact that most of the other stores are expensive clothes, souvenir shops, and a Bible bookstore—yeah.

Carlos is also more than sated with the three books in the paper bag he’s holding. Scratch that—six books, you bought a haul for yourself—but it’s not a particularly heavy load, so he’s fine. His phone has been buzzing with Lando’s update requests that he’s been deliberately ignoring.

“They make the best ice cream,” you rave, smiling. You lick over the melt on your lips. “Right?”

He might actually drop his cone now. “It is delicious.”

“Well…” You look around, your hair flying with every turn of your head. Lick over lips again. Again, and again. He has to look away.

“…Do you wanna stop by anywhere else?” You turn to him and ask, licking over the tip of your ice cream cone.

It’s hard for Carlos to pretend he’s looking around your surroundings, at the signs and storefronts, and not at your sticky lips, your pink tongue just peeking out to lap at the quickly melting gelato around your hand. His eyes flit downward, to where the hem of your tiny white dress has flown up in the coastal wind, exposing more of your thighs.

“Carlos?” You repeat, voice sweet and waiting.

He snaps his eyes back up and wills his voice to remain passive. “We can head back.”

So you do, meaning your tour ends around noon, and your parents greet you both with lunch and the round of inevitable questions. Did Comporta live up to your expectations? What books did you get? Was our daughter a good tour guide? The latter, Carlos answers with a smile—very good. You allowed your face to flush, blamed it on the sangria.

Now, though, it’s the brink in-between chilly and hot, sticky traces of the summer afternoon still lingering in the air, mixing with the cool of dusk when you decide to exit your room and fix yourself a glass of something, preferably sweet and alcoholic. An empty driveway save for a Ferrari means your parents are gone, leaving you and—if you’re lucky, which you hope you are—

“Carlos,” you call out from the window you’ve just tugged open with the expertise of somebody who’s lived here for twenty-one summers. “Thirsty?”

He looks up from where he is, outside, continuing his operation on your dad’s car. The hood’s been cranked open, and his long hair is damp with sweat, flying gently in the face of the sunset breeze. He smiles when he sees your figure peeking out.

“For what?”

“Whatever you want,” you respond, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. His white shirt’s stained with oil and dirt, tainting it beige and grey, the tight fit even tighter from his sweat. You can make out the outline of his abs just underneath. 

He squints. “Beer?”

You make an exaggerated eugh face to tease him, but duck back inside to bring your homemade aperol and an open, frosty beer outside. When he sees you, he walks closer, smiles and takes a swig of the drink you offer. He makes a noise of satisfaction and you have to make a real effort to maintain a semblance of normalcy, eyes averting from his lips to gaze instead at his solid shoulders, his build, big and tall.

“What’s the problem with beer, hmm?”

“Tastes like shit.” You raise your aperol. “The sweeter, the better. How’s Dad’s car?” You blink, sidestepping him to try and gauge his progress.

“Casi termino.” You look at him, raising your eyebrows, and he translates. “Almost done. It wasn’t that destroyed, if at all.”

“You think he’ll let you drive it when you’re done?” You ask playfully, swiping your condensation-wet finger over the side of the car. You turn, smiling expectantly; Carlos laughs a bit, shrugs.

“It is just a favor. But if he does, I’ll make sure you get to come along.” He says. “You like that?”

“Mmm,” you nod, sipping on your aperol. You part from your straw, lips stained, and smile up at him. “I do.”

His gaze is stuck on your lips. You lick over them, and he looks away with a slow blink. You watch as he ruffles his hair, rounds the car and crosses his arms to view it from the back.

God, he’s handsome. You think of the long-winded nights you’ve been spending trailing your fingers over your legs or texting inspired paragraphs to friends back in university about him. Their responses are almost always Send pic now and a cacophony of heart eye emojis when you manage to snag a stolen shot of him doing just about anything.

His gaze is scrutinizing, every little detail of the car, and eventually he closes the hood again. “Should be good by tomorrow.”

“Where’d you learn to fix cars?” You ask sweetly, nearing him. The wind bites at your legs, your flowy skirt bouncing sporadically and held down by your free hand. When your eyes flit to his, waiting for his response, you find them snapping upward. He’d been distracted.

“I work with cars, so it comes natural.” You lean on the hood of the car and he comes to stand in front of you, his eyes pointed downward at you. “That’s not a very good habit,” he adds.

“Drinking?” You pout, raising your half-empty glass. You blink up at him, the corner of your smiling lip caught in your teeth.

“Biting your lip.” His gaze is intense. “You do it a lot, I noticed.”

You smile, leaning backward a little. His resolve is breaking. “Can I borrow one of the books you got earlier?”

“The three ones you bought not enough?” He raises a brow, downing beer again. Some of it dribbles out of the corner of his lip. You’ve never been one to like the taste, but you’d lick it off him if you could.

“I just wanna browse it,” you push. “I’ll return it tomorrow.”

“Fine,” he relents. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow.”

—

He sees you the next day after lunch, which you’d skipped because you “weren’t hungry.” You’re wearing a dress, hair clipped into a bun when you excuse yourself to pick up an earring in front of him. He almost thinks it’s a fib until he sees it, the pink gem on the floor.

“Sorry,” you say, voice mellow, and then you’re bending over to pick it up. You’re wearing pretty lace panties underneath.

Carlos clears his throat and excuses himself, adjusting his shorts as he goes upstairs.

—

He gives you Norweigan Wood after dinner, like he promised earlier in the week. Two raps on your door, and when you open it, he’s already handing it to you with a quiet smile. “Goodnight,” he says, his voice clipped.

“Our tour isn’t over yet,” you tease, tossing the book onto your bed and descending the steps back downstairs. Confused and interested, he follows you, to the back area of the house, past the swinging screen door, down the steps, and onto the sand.

“Tour?” He repeats, for clarification. The only things to tour are sand and twigs.

“Yeah, Carlos. This is the real tour,” you joke, walking backwards. Every step sends your foot sinking into the cold sand, slowing your pace until Carlos catches up, matching your steps once he does. “Comporta—real and unfiltered.” You both laugh at your hyperbolic, MTV-worthy statement, and he waits for more, entertains you further.

“What is so real about this?” Carlos laughs, allowing himself to humor your little schtick.

“Well, mister. This isn’t bookstores and ice cream parlors.” You point to a nearby spot in the sand, just by a rogue stick. “This is where I smoke without getting caught. Near enough that I can run back in seconds, but faraway enough that my parents can’t immediately see what I’m doing. Granted, I don’t need to be sneaking around much, but if you ever want to do something in secret—”

The implication sends Carlos into a spiral of thought.

“—here’s your spot.”

“So you smoke,” he says when he sits himself on the sand, observing the now-dark skyline of the area. You continue pacing around a little, and when you raise your arms up to stretch, he catches a glimpse of your abdomen, the waistband of pink lace underneath the low rise of your denim shorts.

“Occasionally. Don’t play Holy Mary,” you warn, standing in front of him and stretching your hand out to reveal a box of Marlboro Reds. 

“Wasn’t planning to,” he responds, taking a stick and inserting it in between his lips. “Got a light?”

“No,” you tease, taking one for yourself and sliding your lighter out from your pocket in one quick motion. The flame illuminates your face, casts a light on your thin white tee and on the bikini top you have on underneath. You puff out a small cloud of smoke, and Carlos reaches up to take the lighter.

“I said no,” you giggle, your lips knotting into a pout. You hold the lighter just out of his reach, red and bold against the bleak evening. 

“Give it.” He sits up higher, reaches harder; he almost gets it, but you step backward and raise your arm out of reach. Again your shirt rises with the movement. The view he gets, this time, of your hips, the lace that hugs the area there, is much more close.  The laugh you emit sends a cloud of smoke out.

“No, no,” you continue, laughing, a sweet sound.

Carlos gets up, tries again to lunge for the lighter. At this point he doesn’t even care about the cigarette in between his lips, just wants to entertain you. He tries again but you’re quick with it, ducking every lunge just in time.

“Come on,” he goads, laughing himself. You pace backward, smoking, until your ankles hit the shallow shore water, water that goes deeper and deeper until you’re knee-level, still smiling at him mischievously. 

“Fine,” you relent, shrugging. You throw your hands up in surrender, in the process taking the stick out of your mouth to blow smoke out. “Do you want it? C’mere, then.” You beckon him closer, wave the lighter tantalizingly so he steps closer, closer, until you’re holding the flame to the cigarette between his lips.

He’s so tall, he has to bend a little to let you light it, his eyes meeting yours, illuminated by the pale moon and the orange of the flame.

It all goes to plan. Once you light it, you place two hands square on his shoulders, whirl him so he’s behind you and thus even deeper in the water, and with all your might, push him into the sea. 

“Brat—” he manages to gasp out as he goes, the word leaving his lips in the first and last puff of smoke he lets out. He surfaces, every dip and ridge of his abs and chest accentuated, his linen polo near invisible with how saturated it is with water. His long hair, too, sticks to his forehead; he combs it backward, reveals his amused-irritated eyes, the dead cigarette spouting seawater and ash.

He spits it out. You stare and pinch the soggy stick in between two fingers, stuffing the trash into his chest pocket. “That’s bad for the environment.”

“I am freezing,” he says in response, but you’re just stifling a laugh.

He narrows his eyes, and with unsurprising ease given his build, picks you up and carries you over his shoulder. You barely have time to protest, almost dropping your own cigarette into the water, kicking and pounding on his back to please put me down. You can feel the water getting deep, deeper, and when he finally dunks you in, it’s only a second of dryness before you’re submerged in the chilly water.

Your cigarette dies, and you manage to collect it, because you’re not in the interest of leaving your stick floating; you wedge it into your pocket.

“You’re such”—you gasp for air—“a dick!”

You’re smiling, though, flailing your legs to stay afloat. Carlos can’t help but stare, entranced with the way your eyelashes stick together, damp, the droplets of water on your cheeks, your two hands wringing saltwater out of your hair, and when you swim upward, the way your white tee leaves nothing to his imagination.

You can tell. He can tell you can tell—because the next thing you do, with some faux exaggerated sigh of annoyance, is say, “Can’t swim, too heavy,” and you’re taking off your shirt so all he sees is the red of your bikini top underneath. The white tee bobs softly with each passing wave, and you’re smiling up at him. Checkmate, you’re saying. I’ve got you. A skittish, playful smile on your lips.

“I can help you swim,” he offers—retaliates, more like, his height offering him great advantage. He finds your bare ankle underwater, guides it to wrap around his waist. Naturally, your other leg follows until you’re flush against him, held up by him so you don’t need to wag your legs around just to stay above water.

Your hands go on his still-clothed shoulders first, then eventually around them, fingers linking at the nape of his neck. Your smile is wicked. You’re so sinfully pretty. He wades deeper, holds you all the while, two big hands on either side of your waist, thumbs rubbing over your sides so you can shiver.

“‘M so wet,” you say, voice shaky with chill and laughter. His grip tightens and he has to squeeze his eyes shut to try and pretend you didn’t just say that.

He dips you underneath the surface to surprise you, and your shriek is cut off by the water—he pulls you up quick, laughing, but underestimates his strength because as he tugs, you barrel right onto him, forehead bumping his.

Your eyes are closed, and you momentarily detach from him to wipe salt out of them. “Ass.”

“Brat,” he responds.

You open your eyes to find he’s close, so close you could just lean forward an inch—an inch—and you’d be meeting his lips. You wonder how they feel, how he kisses. He’s confident everywhere else, would he kiss you like that, too? You lean closer, a wrecked gasp escaping you.

“You’re so pretty,” you say, and it’s supposed to be teasing, but your breathy voice is genuine, honest. A thumb swipes over his eyelashes, causing him to blink, then the bridge of his nose. He leans upward, tries to catch your lips, but pauses, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

“This is wrong,” he says in a quiet breath, making no move at all you stop either of you from kissing right now.

You want—need—to kiss him, but you can play the long game if he wishes to. Your eyes flit back up to his, dark brown and reflecting the moon.

“Then let’s head back,” you suggest, even if both of you want anything but.

Long game. He guides you back to shore, picks your tee up, uses it as a sieve for any loose ash and cigarette bits in your path back to shore, even finds your red lighter that’s now dispensing water. He apologizes for not having anything to dry you with, and drops you off at your room with a puddle in both of your wakes.

“Thank you again,” he says, his voice a whisper through your ajar door. He observes your room with what little vantage point he has. The posters on the wall, the art, postcards. The laptop on the bed, open. The phone charging on the nightstand. The thong hanging out of the hamper.

“No problem,” you say back, voice saccharine. Your hand wraps around his wrist. “See you tomorrow.”

Even if you’re doused in seawater, he can still smell the traces of your perfume, the summery sweet of it, when you close the door. He stays for a second, blinks, relishes in the hint of floral.

—

You spend three days walking on eggshells around each other, testing the limits of interaction.

Your night at the beach was risky, dangerous, thrilling—but it was fun, sending you both into antsy, restless trains of thought. Carlos self-medicates with coffee, beer in the afternoon, working on your dad’s car, and the first two hundred pages of the Marquez book you insisted he pick up. He spots you sometimes, lounging on the beach with his book in your grip, the waistline of your bikini bottoms leaving a tanline he can’t stop staring at when you walk back into the house.

But he can’t act on it—he was the one who labeled it wrong, the one who suppressed himself, held the urge back. He told you it was wrong. And it is wrong. He’s older, he should be wiser; he’s close with your dad; and a cacophony of other rational reasons he shouldn’t be playing into this skittish summer crush.

“Dad said the boat’s free,” a voice says, and he looks up from his book to find you standing in front of him, wearing nothing but a bikini top and a skirt, loose and riding low on your hips. Your lips stretch into a sweet smile. “Wanna come?”

He really shouldn’t. “Sí.”

So he goes. He’s thirty-five. That’s a grown age. If anything, he’s capable of making sure he stays responsible. He dog-ears his page and picks up his beer to follow you to where the boat is docked. He’d been on your dad’s yacht earlier in his trip here, to go fishing, but it’s quieter today, bobbing softly atop the water. You lie yourself down on the sunny side of the boat, sunglasses over your eyes.

“Stay anywhere you like,” you say charmingly. It’s silent for a while, Carlos seating himself on one of the lounge seats in the shaded area, and then you’re moving around on your towel.

You peer over your lenses, blinking and sitting up, and this is when he knows he can’t do it.

“Carlos,” you call out. “Can you put sunscreen on my back?” You get up again, rifling in your bag for the bottle of sunscreen, dragging a hand through your hair to comb it out. It falls in loose waves, swishing when you turn to hand him the bottle. He pretends he’d been distracted on page 210 when he accepts it, watching as you sit in front of the seat, your back turned to him, your little figure in-between his spread legs. 

A minute passes with no hand at your back. “Go ahead, move even slower,” you joke, and the tension breaks a little; he humors you, laughs and apologizes.

“It’s because hour hair is in the way,” he says, touching it gently, combing it to the side.

“Wait—” You dig through your bag again and pull out a blunt pink ribbon, slipping it into his hand. “Can you braid it for me?”

“Braid?” He doesn’t know jack shit about braiding hair. “I don’t know how.”

“At that age of yours and you don’t know anything about how to please a girl,” you whistle lowly. “Adult virgin?” 

But you guide him through it despite your teasing, teaching him to divide your hair in threes, weaving one strand over the other until “it looks half decent.” He fucks up a few times and your hair looks odd at some point, but in the end, it’s—well, it’s a braid.

“How is it?” You ask, and he can hear your smile.

He does the job well enough for a first-timer, he thinks, finishing it with the ribbon, which he ties loosely lest you’re unhappy with the finished product. It becomes easier to move your hair out of the way, and once your back is saturated with sunscreen, you unfold your legs and get up, turning around and smiling down at his sitting figure.. Loose tendrils of hair frame your face, the braid resting at your back softly, already loosening.

“Your hair can be braided, too,” you comment quietly, knotting a rogue few strands in your fingers. It hasn’t been this tense since that night at the beach, but that ended before the tension rose further—this, now, keeps going. You step closer and he leans back, smiling. “Can I?”

He blinks, nostrils flaring, then nods, his grip on your hips gentle when you sit on his lap, your legs on either side of his. You smile coquettishly, feeling how hard he is underneath you, the denim of his jeans rough against the skin of your bare thighs. Your skirt’s riding up on them with every little shift you make, just to rile him up.

Carlos drinks in the sight of you, sunkissed and on his lap, legs sprawled out, pretty little face framed, bottom lip in your teeth. You’re inviting him closer, your gaze meeting his with sleepy, demure eyes—do something. You look so fucking precious, so pretty. It makes him want to give you everything right now.

You reach forward, make an attempt to try and weave his hair together—but he grinds upward, your breath hitching and a whimper punched out of your mouth.

Your hands are shaking now, barely able to piece his hair together with how good his clothed cock feels pressed against you, where you need it most. 

“Carlos,” you gasp, and all he can really think is—where’d all your fight go? You were so used to being a brat and a half, now you’re whimpering, on the edge of begging.

“Be quiet,” Carlos grunts, digging his fingers into your hips. His other hand lifts your skirt, bunching the fabric around your hips for a better view of your cunt rubbing against the bulge in his pants. The damp fabric of your panties is swallowed between your lips with every grind you make forward and he has to stop himself from cursing out loud at the sight. “Good girl.”

Your hands move from his hair to his shoulders, sturdy and broad; you can feel him squeeze your waist with both hands, then pull you down against him, just once, so your weight presses down on the hard shape of his cock. It makes him shudder and you whine out loud. You resist the urge to grind over it; you’re already so wet you’re making a mess on his jeans.

His praise, mumbled deep and slow in your ear, gets you feeling all warm, almost ditzy. Your hips roll on their own, chasing the delicious drag of rough denim against your clit, slick soaks into and through your panties, making the material cling to the shape your folds. Carlos’ hands are rough when they wander and grope, hiking this godforsaken skirt up so he can press a thumb against the centre of your folds.

“Been so good for you, Carlos,” you whine, circling your hips against him. He can’t stop staring at your pretty, fucked-out eyes, your bitten lips. He shoves two fingers in-between them, imagines how they looked just a few days ago slick with ice cream—now your tongue is laving over his hand. The braid you'd just taught him is quickly unraveling with every nod of your head. “‘M gonna—can I—” The pleas leave you quick, your voice choked.

Euphoric, your mind lifts, foggy and saturated with pleasure, the braid almost completely undone now. His praise is so addictive, gets you worked up and needy. Come on, he says. Make a mess. His accent, his deep voice, the way it rumbles right through you—his voice drops, his touch a little heavier as he presses harder.

You gonna cum for me? His thumb rubs faster until you’re gasping, shuddering, little ahs leaving your lips. He’s got the upper hand now, but you can hear the strain, the suppression in his voice as he rubs over the soaked fabric; you feel his cock growing under you, getting harder. 

P—please—I want to—please let me, you say breathlessly, and you’ve never needed it to the point of begging before, but Carlos is different. He keeps going, doesn’t give you permission, rubbing faster, your heart hammering in your chest.

Feel good?

Y—yeah, you whimper, trying your best not to fall apart here, on your dad’s boat, where anybody could walk on—or maybe see you from afar, humping your dad’s friend in broad daylight. He loves watching you like this; you’ve somehow become even prettier, face flushed and voice shaky.

Come on, he goads. Be a good girl. Cum for me.

It’s the only instruction that matters to you right now, your body seizing with it and cute little moans escaping you as you finish. You catch your breath against his chest, craving warmth even if it’s hot—maybe you’re craving him, his touch, Carlos, just Carlos. You maneuver yourself so legs, exhausted from shaking, are on one side of his body—he holds you close, humming.

He rubs a steady hand across your lower back, gentle and firm and you want him so much more now. “Are you okay?” He asks. “Talk to me.”

“Perfect,” you pant against his polo, fingers playing with the stitching, tugging the collar down so you can mouth at his skin. His hand plays with what’s left of the braid, winds the pink ribbon around his fingers. “Let’s go for a swim.”

—

“And we drove the jet ski around, too,” you say gleefully, your damp hair bobbing with every move of your head. Your face is sunkissed, a little sore from being in the sun for most of the afternoon. Carlos laughs along from where he is at the grill—he’s cooking for dinner, on a quest to make burgers because he’s known for making the best ones back in Madrid, apparently. Your dad, of course, insists on joining, and the two have been asking and answering questions while you and your mum sip rosé at the table.

“Did you have fun?” Your mum asks, her head turning to address Carlos.

“Yeah, tons,” he replies with a smile, his eyes meeting yours for a brief second. You know what he means. It’s been only two days since the afternoon on the boat, and since then you’ve mostly swam and ridden around on the jet ski with Carlos—nothing more.

“See, sweetie,” she adds, placing a hand over yours. “I told you this summer would be fun with him around!”

“Mmm, yeah,” you say, nodding and parting from your glass, “I can really count on him for some excitement.” The statement catches his attention and he almost trails off, eyes returning to yours, before he continues speaking in Spanish to your dad about something or other.

The burgers’ reputation precedes them, and is warranted, you learn later when you’re biting into it for the first time. The remainder of dinner passes by in lively conversation, the sun setting low underneath the Comporta horizon, wine taking the place of rosé. Carlos mentions the racing world again, about how he’ll be back into the thick of it sooner than later, and you pulse with something akin to sadness.

Your parents, apparently so grateful for the blessing that is Carlos’ burgers, offer to clean up and before long, they retreat to their downstairs bedroom. Upstairs, you marinate in your thoughts, blinking up at your ceiling, twining your pink ribbon around your fingers as your hair dries splayed over your bedding. You let your arm down, in the process bumping your elbow against a hard surface.

Upon investigation, you find it’s a copy of Norweigan Wood. 

Carlos is at his desk, taking a timezone-separated call about simulation and season prep, when two soft knocks go at his door and it creaks open. He turns the chair away from the desk to see who it is. An ankle steps in first, then more leg, and then you—in a lovely, pretty pink lace dress, your face illuminated by the moonlight outside. One hand clutches a copy of his book; the other, the ribbon he’d used on your hair earlier.

He’s nursing a bottle of beer, just to help ease the drag of the day, and he watches you approach him, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood of the floor. Wait, he mouths, finishing the call in a hushed tone, and when he hangs up you approach him again.

“I thought you should have this back,” you say, offering him the book. Your eyes rake over him, wearing the same getup he’d worn to dinner—denim jeans, because he’d ducked out to buy food, except he’s ridden himself of his shirt. 

He takes the book, places it on the table, continues staring up at you. “And I thought you should keep this.” The ribbon, pale pink, is now looped around his wrist and tied into a delicate ribbon at the apex of it. You admire your handiwork with a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

You lean down, face just shy of his. “We shouldn’t,” he manages to eke out, his voice strained.

“But you want to,” you respond softly. “No one’s going to know. Our little secret.”

His eyes are shut, contemplating, and then he’s kissing you—the only thing you’ve wanted, craved, touched yourself to the thought of over the course of the summer. You reciprocate immediately, parting your lips to let him kiss you deeper, a whimper leaving your mouth. He kisses like he knows he’s a good kisser, and he really is. His scent is intoxicating, a drug, sending arousal and desire straight through you.

You part, eyes half-lidded as you stand straight again. You cock your head slowly to the side, and with your head’s movement your hair follows, gathering on one side. It exposes much of your shoulder and collarbones, which lay underneath the thin lace dress you wear to sleep, and which is now subject to Carlos' unwavering stare. He has no shame, eyes raking over you, up and down and back up. One hand curled around a bottle of beer, the other coming up to slowly graze the back of your thigh.

Your breath hitches. “Do you like the dress?” You ask softly, teasingly. It’s nothing special, Carlos, you seem to say; it’s just a nightie.

His hand is rough against the thin skin of your leg, traveling upward. He gives you a nod in response; he does like it, the sheer material, the pink color, the loose way it hugs your body. Roughly, he voices his assent. “Come sit on my lap.”

“Wait,” you say, pouting. Your knee rubs softly against the material of his jeans, and you slowly sink onto your knees, hands placing themselves on your thighs. His grip goes from the back of your thigh to your hair, combing it softly, cradling your face. 

“Let me,” you say, letting your silence imply everything unsaid. He’s going crazy, losing his mind.

“So pretty,” he says, nodding. his voice thin. “Go ahead, baby.”

The petname gets you dizzy. You lean forward, resting your face on the hard bulge in his pants, smiling up at him. You’ve got these big, doe eyes, begging him, and he’s not so sure he even has the upper hand anymore—he would do anything you asked, any request that left those pretty bitten lips. He gathers your hair in two hands, forms a messy, unclean braid, crisscross at the back of your head just so he has something to grip while he fucks your throat.

You make quick, deft work of unbuttoning his jeans, and he watches, leaned back on the chair, legs spread wide with bent knees on either side of your body, caging you in. Carlos’ eyes are half-lidded, a hand at your braid, bringing his beer to his lips, swallowing before he sets it onto the adjacent desk.

His cock is big—thick, intimidating—and you can’t help but wonder how you’re going to fit the whole thing in your mouth without choking. It twitches in your palms the longer you stroke him, precum weeping from the head and slicking up your palms. Gruff expletives, in Spanish and English, slip past his gritted teeth and the sounds travel directly to your core, causing you to instinctively press your thighs together to soothe the ache blossoming there.

You take head of his cock into your mouth, feel it roll over your tongue, heavy and warm. Drool gathers in your mouth and your fingers dig into the muscle of his thighs in anticipation. The hand wound around your braid, pressed against your head, presses heavier slowly, slotting the first few inches of cock into your mouth while avoiding the back of your throat. You relax, letting your lips seal around the length, cheeks hollowing and tongue lulling at the underside. He curses.

You continue bobbing your head, lewd noises leaving your mouth with every move you make; it embarrasses you, but also sends slick gushing out of you.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when the tip of his cock grazes the back of your throat; you cough, fingers heavy as they dig into the flesh of his still-denim clas thighs; drool trickles onto his balls. The hand remains there, though, pushing you and keeping you pinned in place as he slowly thrusts upward. You haven’t even gotten him all the way.

You gag and sputter, eyes fully watering the harder Carlos bullies his cock into your throat; you’re dizzy with arousal and submission, maybe one, maybe both, you’re too far gone.

“Easy,” he orders, and you will yourself to breathe nasally, relaxing, burying more of him in you. He loves seeing you like this, hair all pretty—his braid, too—and on your knees, trying your best to please him. “Being so good for me, good girl,” he says, losing resolve. You’re so pretty when you cry, eyes rimmed and bloodshot, tear streaks all over your cheekbones.

He ruts shallowly into your throat, every move punctuated by a guttural gag from your end—once, twice, a third time, before finally he releases you. You let out a cough, and a gasp, breathy, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his tip. He doesn’t want to cum yet—not like this. You gaze up at him, big eyes anticipating, and he guides you upward, on the bed.

He kicks his jeans off and readjusts his briefs, watches you scramble to position yourself on the bed, sitting down properly. “Will you fuck me now?” You ask, your sweet voice raspy. He likes knowing he’s the reason why.

You inch yourself backward so you’re fully on his bed, a hand traveling to stop your tiny dress from riding up any further. He steps closer, one knee on the bed, caging you in again, and stops you. His gaze flickers down to your legs, forces your knees apart so he can see in between them. Your pretty cunt’s soaked through your panties. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, voice rough as he steps back off the bed and kneels beside it.

“Carlos,” you breathe, letting him have his way with you. Your mind’s all fuzzy, but it’s okay—he takes care of you. 

Strong arms snake around your thighs and pull you toward him until your cunt is level with his face. His breath, warm, fans against you, muted by the thin fabric of your panties and it does nothing to help the unadulterated, dirty arousal throbbing in your cunt. He bites at the flesh of your inner thigh, then hooks two fingers into your panties and pulls them aside.

The taste of you is so good; it goes straight to Carlos’ head. And all of your embarrassed, whiny whimpers, the way your fingers knot helplessly into his hair as he drags his tongue up your cunt — that drives him absolutely crazy. He licks at your pussy, sticks his tongue in, nudges your clit with his nose, ekes whimpers and debauched moans out of your lips.

He pushes two fingers into you, doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s fucking them in and out, moans spilling out of you involuntarily. It’s lewd, it’s dirty, getting his friend’s daughter all spread out for him like this, but Carlos loves it. More, you sob, more, please, I need—yeah—

His skilled tongue doesn’t let up, continues toying with you, licking up all the arousal oozing out of your cunt. He eats you, fucks you with his fingers, until your eyes are welling up with overwhelm and the need to release, your hands pulling at his long hair—your pussy dripping, quivering, right at the edge of your orgasm.

Any of the reservations you had are now out the window. Your grip on Carlos’ hair is tight, pushing his head deeper into your pussy and grinding against his mouth mindlessly.

I’m cumming—!

Your voice is so dirty, so lewd, so needy, when you finally finish around him, slick dripping out and your pussy twitching, clenching and unclenching around nothing as you release. Panting, you hoist yourself on your elbows, your braid surprisingly intact, and pout down at him.

“I said fuck me.”

“So you complain,” he responds with a coy smile, his lips shiny with your slick. You want him to fuck you stupid.

He does eventually, gets you all calm and lying down on the bed, knees to your chest. Your feet cross and uncross with anticipation. He lets his cock rest first on your stomach, where it twitches, smearing precum under your belly button.

“That’s where you’ll be,” you say, stroking him. When he finally does begin thrusting into you, he wishes he could save the image of your pretty eyes fluttering closed, puffy lips open in a whimper.

Your legs tremble with the size you’re taking, his hand gentle as it is firm on your hips, forcing you to take him, take him good, take him better. Good girl, he’s saying, good fucking girl. Inch by inch, you struggle to take all of him, his girth thicker than what your cunt is willing to take. You’re positive you’ll feel him in your stomach.

“Carlos,” you whimper, voice aching.

“Fuck,” is all he can muster, watching your pussy swallow him. “So tight.”

He’s drunk on the feeling of you, wet and clenching around him, so tight. He can tell you’re high on it too, on the stretch of him, the way you keep trying to meet every thrust, legs already beginning to tremble with pleasure and deep arousal. He bottoms out, an expletive leaving him in Spanish, and then slowly begins to fuck in and out of you.

He watches your face, the way your brows knit as you take him, take his cock, eyelides fluttering. “So good,” you moan, mouth open. He drops a glob of spit onto your tongue, tells you to swallow—you do, presenting your empty tongue to him. Good girl, prettiest girl—any and all praise leaves him in dizzy, heady breaths.

“Teasing me for so long,” he pants, his dick splitting you in half. “This what you wanted? Hmm?”

But even in your cloudy mind, you find the grit to retaliate, teasingly, a cloy smile on your lips. “You said it was wrong,” you gasp out with every thrust. “Fucking your friend’s daughter.”

“But you love it,” Carlos goads. “Do you?”

You nod, cockdrunk, but it’s not enough. “Use your words, pretty. You can do it.”

“I do, I love it. I need more,” you whine, getting off on his teasing, on the implication that this is all wrong, that neither of you should be doing this. “Needed this so much, Carlos.” You crack your eyes open to watch the bulge in your abdomen, the shape of his girth splitting you open. He slams into you harder and you try to squirm away, but he keeps you pinned in place.

“And if your dad walked in?”

You gush slick all over him. “Carlos,” you plead.

“Saw his daughter taking his friend’s dick?” He says it low into your ear, bending to make sure you hear all of it. “Taking it like a good girl, too.” He pulls out, slaps your ruined hole with his dick, then shoves it in deep again, groaning when you cry out—getting off on you whining about how sensitive you are, the way you tremble under him and around him. Your pretty little face, all sweaty and ruined.

“I’m gonna—fuck—I’m, Carlos—I’m gonna cum,” you say, nodding. You’ve probably cum twice already, little bursts of pleasure causing your cunt to twitch around him, sensitive. “Can I—?” 

“That’s it,” he praises. “Come on, cum for me. Been so good for me.” You tremble around him as you finish, broken moans fucked out of you with every surge of his hips forward.

He’s close, too, having held off fucking you for the past how many days, and you can tell; his thrusts get shallower, faster, until his hips are stuttering and he’s panting your name out, long hair framing his flushed, pretty face. You reach up to comb a hand through it. “Cum inside me,” you beg, watching him go crazy, his nostrils flaring and eyes blinking quick. 

He pumps his cum into you, thrusting several times as he rides it out, fucking you full of him, of his cum. You relish in the feeling, of being his girl, his good girl. “You’re a mess,” he comments, his face buried into your neck. He pulls out, both of you sighing at the sight and feeling of his cum dribbling out of you, onto the bed.

You unfold your legs, sitting up despite how sore you feel. Your dress is damp with sweat, and slick, and cum. “I feel a mess.” You pout.

“You look pretty.”

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You ask, voice meek. He nods, holds you tight as you both drift off, like he knows that you won’t be his to call his by the time the summer wanes and Comporta is left empty again.

—

“It’s the post-race interview,” Ali calls. “Hurry!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” You hop into the living room, tossing her the bag of popcorn she’d requested you to cook. Fall has officially dawned upon the city, adorning it with orange and red leaves, jazz music and cold nights—and weekends watching races.

Around you, all your university friends watch with intense gazes at the winner of the latest Formula One grand prix—something none of you had been remotely interested in just months prior.

You watch, eyes glittering, at the winner. Tan skin, long hair, jogging over to the journalist. Sainz, what a stellar drive! She sounds awestruck, genuinely taken aback by his dominance on the track today. She asks for a message in Spanish, as always; a few words of inspiration, and then, just as a fun little tidbit—did you have a good luck charm today?

He smiles to himself, like he’s just heard an inside joke and seems to think for a minute. “No, not really.” Then he combs a hand through his hair. There, looped around his wrist, is a pretty, pale pink ribbon.

#f1 #carlos sainz #carlos sainz drabble #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz smut #carlos sainz imagines #carlos sainz one shot #f1 x reader

[pessimisticoptimistsblog]

A/N – Sorry for the wait! Here’s chapter 8. And I’m still taking ideas for a title for this story, I’m struggling with that.

Chapter 8

Ughhh… This Bitch

~The next morning~

Madame C was in field work mode, up before the ‘sun’ and doing rounds around the hotel. By the time any of the other residents had begun to exit their rooms, the shadow demon was stood on the balcony of the second floor watching the bugs scurry. Her second cup of coffee in hand, Madame C’s attention was drawn to the hallway to see the snake demon stretching and heading towards the kitchen with five egg demons trailing him.

Sir Pentious was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when he caught sight of the shadowy figure, making it downstairs and almost to the kitchen before realizing what he’d seen. By the time he looked back up to find it though, Madame C had moved back to blend into the darkness. Sir Pentious shook his head and pushed on to the kitchen. Meanwhile, Madame C began to make her way down to the parlor and sat on a chair with a good view of the rest of the front room.

Alastor was the next resident to come down with Nifty close behind before she darted off to chase a bug. When Alastor took notice of Madame C, his eye twitched and his grip tightened on his mic staff. Green eyes stared Alastor down daring him to say or do anything. The radio demon had just squared his shoulders, ready to push his luck, before loud talking echoed down the hallway heading towards the lobby.

Madame C smirked as the radio demon deflated slightly then looked to see Vaggie and Charlie heading to the stairs. Charlie was talking animatedly about some exercise she wanted the group to try while Vaggie smiled softly. As they reached the top of the stairs and Alastor, the blonde girl waved excitedly.

“Alastor! Do you want to join our exercise today? It’s going to be awesome!” Then Charlie caught sight of the shadowed demon in the parlor. “Oh! And you too, Madame C! I know neither of you are here for redemption, but it’ll be fuuun!”

Alastor chuckled slightly, “ Not today my dear! I’m afraid I have some errands to run and I must be off.” The deer demon gave a bow then made his way downstairs, briefly narrowing his eyes at Madame C before he exited the hotel.

Madame C had watched the damned radio demon like a hawk, temporarily forgetting Charlie had asked her a question. When she was sure Alastor was gone, the shadow went to return to her coffee and jumped slightly as the princess had moved to stand in front of her. Charlie’s hands were clasped under her chin and she was looking at Madame C with big eyes. Green eyes widened, for a second picturing a different body attached to those eyes before blinking the image away. Lucifer would probably never look at her like that, if he ever looked at her again.

“Well? Will you please join us?! It’ll be a great way for you to officially meet everyone!” Charlie’s hopeful eyes shone brightly and Madame C sighed, the last thing she had wanted to do was mingle, but apparently, she held a soft spot for the Morningstar family.

Finishing the last of her coffee, Madame C looked between Charlie and Vaggie, wanting to gauge if both girls wanted her present. “I suppose it would be best if I know everyone I’m to protect. What exactly do you have planned, Princess?”

Charlie leapt forward to hug the shadowed figure, bouncing in excitement. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!! Let’s get everyone together, and then I’ll explain it. Everyone else has done this once before, but hopefully there’s a little less fighting and blood this time.” The princess had pulled away, laughing nervously remembering how their last trust exercise hadn’t been the greatest. “But I’m sure it’ll go much better this time! Stay here, and Vaggie and I will go get everyone else!”

Charlie grabbed Vaggie’s hand and pulled her towards the kitchen. Madame C breathed out slowly and tried to relax into the couch. She’d hoped to meet the residents individually and gauge them that way; this way would work, but meant she may not be able to see true colors.

A few minutes later, Vaggie was yelling at everyone for slacking as she pushed the group from the kitchen. Madame C raised a brow; the one-eyed girl was strong and the much more forceful of the pair, good to know.

As the group closed in on the shadow demon, Husk recognized her first, stepping out of the group and walking towards the bar. Charlie ran to stop him, “Husk! C’mon, no time for drinks now!”

The winged cat dodged Charlie shaking his head. “Uh-uh, I need a drink if I’ve gotta be around her.” Madame C raised a brow and narrowed her eyes, what did he mean by that?

Charlie voiced Madame C’s thoughts and Husk turned while pouring his drink. “Small, dark, and quiet gives me the creeps. Plus, no interpreter means she’s just gonna be starin' at us the whole time.” Husk visibly shivered, then gulped down his drink, poured another and finally came back to join the group.

While Husk had been grabbing his drink, Sir Pentious and Angel Dust had noticed Madame C as well. Angel greeted her with a quick hey and a wave, vaguely remembering her from a time she had met with Val at the studio.

Sir Pentious, while having never met or seen the woman before, had knowledge of every overlord and gave the shadow demon a salute. “Madame C! It’sss a pleasure to meet you!”

Once everyone was on the sofa and chairs, Charlie clapped her hands together, smiling bright. “Everyone, meet our newest guest slash bodyguard, Madame C! Let’s all introduce ourselves and make her feel welcome. Say your name and your favorite thing about the hotel! I’ll start!” The blonde jumped up to stand in front of the group. “Hello! My name is Charlie and I love seeing all of your wonderful faces everyday” she said, slightly tearing up. “Vaggie?”

Vaggie and Charlie traded places, the one-eyed girl putting a hand on her hip. “Uh, I’m Vaggie. And I uh.. I like seeing you guys actually putting some effort into this. Angel, you’re next.” Vaggie sat next to Charlie and smiled at her girlfriend, grabbing her hand.

“I’m Angel Dust, famous pornstar if you ever need anything, sweetheart,” the spider paused to throw a wink at Madame C. “I really love the free rent here, and uh the people I guess.” Angel added on the last bit after receiving a glare from Vaggie, further confirming to Madame C that she was the firm hand in the relationship.

Suddenly a small form jumped in front of the shadow demon. “HI! I’m Nifty! I like all the bugs that I get to kill.” The girl’s one eye was gleaming, her sharp smile wide with excitement.

The group watched Nifty scurry away when she spotted a bug before turning their attention to the snake demon. “Me? Oh, um.. I’m Sssir Pentious. And I love how kind every one hasss been to me even though I did try to blow the hotel up to get to Alastor.” He looked slightly ashamed during his introduction, but Madame C knew she’d be watching him a little more closely anyway. Can’t be too careful around destructive demons, repentant or not.

Finally Husk raised his half empty glass slightly, “I’m Husk. I like the booze.” Vaggie looked annoyed while Charlie smiled nervously and turned to motion Madame C to introduce herself.

“My name is Madame C, it’s a pleasure to meet you all. I look forward to finding something to love about this hotel.” Her shadowed form bowed slightly before sitting back down and looking around the room. Charlie was beaming, Vaggie had a half smile thankful someone wasn’t just using her girlfriend, Angel Dust had one brow raised and Sir Pentious looked slightly confused.

Husk was in shock, almost dropping his glass. “When the fuck did you start talkin? Last I checked, you were mute!”

Madame C nodded, “Yes, I used to be mute. A recent venture has made it possible for me to speak again, though.”

Husk waited for more of an explanation. When he realized none was coming, he huffed and got up to get another drink. Charlie jumped up and tried to redirect the group’s attention, beginning to tell them about the exercise for today.

A few short hours later, Madame C was standing on the roof of the hotel looking out at the city. If she focused on the slight breeze instead of the sounds of chaos and destruction, it was rather peaceful, allowing her to reflect on what she had learned about each of the hotel’s guests. Husk was much like how she remembered from when he’d been an overlord - rough on the outside, but a softie looking out for those around him on the inside. Angel was obviously insecure and hid it by constantly talking about sex and his job. Sir Pentious was an open book and she honestly felt for the poor thing because of it. Nifty was just crazy and she planned on staying away from the little psycho. Charlie was a bleeding heart, but she’d known that. Vaggie also seemed insecure, but Madame C couldn’t quite put her finger on why. And the one-eyed girls rough-and-tough attitude she put forward screamed military which could be beneficial come extermination day.

Movement heading towards the hotel brought Madame C out of her thoughts and she turned her attention to the ground, ready to attack if need be. The sight of Alastor casually strolling up to the front door made the shadow demon roll her eyes in annoyance, yet she didn’t look away. The radio demon must have sensed eyes on him, he stopped to glance around then looked up and locked eyes with Madame C. His permanent grin widened slightly and his eye twitched as he waved to the shadow demon on top of the hotel before swiftly entering the hotel.

Alastor was the one resident Madame C didn’t need to know better, she’d known him his whole time in hell and she knew he was trouble. If there ever came an opportunity, the green-eyed woman knew she’d permanently shut down his radio show.

The next few weeks went by in much the same manor - wake before everyone else to check the perimeter, meet with the other guests and occasionally join the exercises, eat dinner, and finish the night on top of the hotel as a final check before going to bed. The first few nights had been rough, knowing Lucifer wasn’t there and wouldn’t be made sleep difficult and fitful. Once she’d finally gotten used to the loneliness she’d known her whole life, though, Madame C was able to practically shut down her mind and work on autopilot.

Just over a month since Madame C came to the hotel, Charlie decided to call her dad while almost everyone was out. Madame C sat on the balcony railing, watching the princess with concern. The blonde paced the parlor area, one hand holding her phone to her ear as the other pulled her hair at the roots. “Dad, it’s been almost two months. I really need this meeting with Heaven!... I know you said it might be difficult but-… I know! Ughh… please, just tell me you’re at least in talks to set it up?... okay, thank you. Please let me know as soon as you get somewhere?... Thanks dad. And if you ever want to come by again, you know you’re always welcome! Love you dad.” Charlie collapsed onto the couch near her, dropping her head in her hands. Vaggie sat next to her girlfriend, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Madame C, seeing this as a private moment for the two women, dissolved into the shadows and reappeared in her room. Throwing up her barrier around her room and dropping her shadows, Caelwen sat on her bed and pulled her phone out of her pocket. Nia had been giving her daily updates on the business, including setting up a meeting with Beelzebub for two weeks after the next extermination. But Caelwen wasn’t looking for a new message from her hell hound assistant, hoping instead to see a notification from Lucifer.

They hadn’t talked since that morning she’d left and Caelwen was scared to reach out and push him further away. She had no idea how romance and affection worked, except for the little parental love her mother had been able to show her while running. Her fingers hesitated over Lucifer’s contact. Maybe if she did reach out, he’d be happy and tell her he’d missed her! Or he’d tell her that it really had just been their close proximity and his loneliness that he’d confused for love.

Just as she was about to press the call button, a knock sounded at her door. In the blink of an eye, she was  cloaked in shadows again and ready to grab for a weapon. Approaching the door, Madame C could sense Alastor’s power through her barrier. She opened the door with a snarl, eyes blazing, “What do you need, radio demon?”

Alastor leaned on his staff towards the shadow demon, unnaturally wide smile fixed in place. “Good afternoon, my dear! I’ve just come to tell you Princess Charlie would like everyone’s assistance in cleaning the hotel and preparing dinner. It seems Lucifer will be joining us tonight.” His staticky voice threatened to give Madame C a head ache.

“I’ll be down in a moment, thank you,” she grumbled and slammed the door in Alastor’s face. Shadows dropping again, Caelwen shook off the gross feeling she always got around the radio demon. Running a hand through her hair, she prepared to head downstairs before she fully processed that Alastor had said Lucifer would be joining them tonight. Caelwen immediately ran around her room, changing into better clothes and trying to tame her hair. Unless something terrible happened, she’d do her best to pull Lucifer aside after dinner and talk to him. At the very least, she needed closure.

The table was full of multiple conversations, everyone sticking to their comfort people. Charlie sat at the head of the table with Vaggie on one side and Alastor on her other, the three laughing at something one of them said. Angel was next to Alastor with Husk across from him trading banter and occasionally bringing Sir Pentious into the conversation and making the poor snake uncomfortable. Occasionally, Nifty could be seen scampering around stabbing at bugs, never stopping to take a seat. Madame C sat across from Sir Pentious and next to Lucifer, who occupied the other end of the table. The green-eyed demon and Lucifer were the only two not talking, only chiming in when asked but otherwise content to watch.

They each tried to sneak glances without the other noticing, both wanting to reach out but unsure of how, especially with so many eyes. As everyone finished their food and conversations died down, one by one they began to leave the table and head to their rooms. Charlie, Vaggie, Madame C, and Lucifer were the last ones to leave, gathering their plates and heading to the kitchen as a group.

Charlie stood next to her dad at the sink handing him clean dishes to dry before grabbing dirty ones from Vaggie. “This was super fun! We should do dinners like this all the time!” The blonde’s grin was bright as she scrubbed food from plates.

“It was pretty great, but maybe we try every other week first? Don’t want to overwhelm everyone, babe,” Vaggie said while putting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder.

Lucifer nodded eagerly, hoping that showing enthusiasm to the dinners despite his dislike for certain sinners would help him earn favor with Charlie. “That’s a great idea, Maggie!”

Madame C grabbed a dry plate from Lucifer and put it away, then turned towards the others. “Perhaps next time we could make a challenge out of it? Split the residents in half and see which team can make a better meal. No magic. Winning team will have bragging rights. It would teach communication and teamwork.”

Charlie’s mouth hung open, her mind running wild with this new idea. “That. Is. Brilliant! Ohmygosh, that would be perfect! Vaggie, we need to start planning. We’ll have to decide who’s on which team and the rules. And we’ll need to get all the food they might need. There’s so much to do, let’s go!” The blonde grabbed her girlfriend’s hand, speeding out of the kitchen.

Lucifer and Madame C stared at the door for a moment before the shadowed woman started giggling. Lucifer turned towards her, wondering what she was laughing at. “I would kill for just a pinch of her enthusiasm and energy! The things I could do…” Still chuckling quietly, Madame C returned to putting away the dry dishes.

Lucifer stared at the shadow form with a smile on his face before he remembered this woman had used him and played with his heart. He crossed his arms and leaned back against the sink, a small frown on his face now as he looked at the ground. When Madame C turned around and saw the look on Lucifer’s face, her own smile fell. She needed to fix this, especially if these dinners continued.

Madame C walked to Lucifer and held out her hand, green eyes staring into yellow and red, asking for a chance. Lucifer slowly took the hand in front of him, clutching tightly when Madame C transported them to her room.

He stepped away from her, taking in the new space quickly before looking back to where the shadow demon had stood. Now, Caelwen stood before him in a dark green dress with a tired look on her face. Lucifer watched as the woman walked to the bed against one wall and sat, patting the spot next to her.

When Lucifer didn’t move, Caelwen sighed and crossed her legs and placed her clasped hands in her lap. “I…,” she fumbled for her words, trying to organize her thoughts. “I know you think I used you and I can understand why you feel that way. But, I want you to know that it was never my intention. You were my last hope and, truthfully, I had already resigned myself to the possibility I may never even get to meet you let alone ask for your help.” Caelwen looked down at her lap and closed her eyes. “I also need you to know that I never intended to fall for you or make you think I was playing with your emotions. The time we spent together was the most amazing week of my life. And before then, I had never bothered to think of romance or love. I’m an outsider here and could never be honest about myself to anyone, that’s not exactly the best foundation for a relationship. But with you, I feel like I belong. Like I could make a real life here, outside of work.”

Lucifer’s shoulders drooped hearing the sincerity of Caelwen’s words and made his way to her side to sit next to her. He reached over and grabbed one of her hands to hold it in his own, making the woman look at him.

Caelwen cleared her throat, wondering when she had started to tear up. “I truly do think I’m beginning to love you. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I feel whole and happier than I ever have when you’re near. This time here has given me a chance to fully explore my feelings and I can honestly say I hate not seeing or talking to you.”

Caelwen’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears as she squeezed Lucifer’s hand and smiled at him. Lucifer smiled back, returning the squeeze. “Our time apart has given me a chance to reflect as well. Lilith and I were together for millennia and she just left one day. I guess I’ve always blamed myself and thought there would be no way another woman could ever truly love me again. Plus, I’m the king of Hell! People usually only ever want to use me in some way.” Lucifer looked down at their clasped hands, then back into Caelwen’s warm green eyes. “I want to believe you truly want me and nothing else. And seeing you now after our time apart, I can’t deny how nice it feels. I think I’d like to try and explore this, but I can’t make any guarantees. I have my own issues and Charlie comes first, but if you’re serious about not using me…”

Lucifer’s eyes searched Caelwen’s for any hint she was lying, but all he saw was acceptance and love. His heart warmed and he smiled softly. Caelwen returned the smile and placed her free hand on his cheek. “I would love to explore this feeling with you, Lucifer. Be prepared, though - I’ve lost so many people over the years, I don’t plan on letting you go anytime soon!”

Fallen angel and Nephilim laughed quietly as they leaned into each other, eyes slipping closed. Unlike their first kiss, this was soft and short, testing the water. Lucifer disconnected their lips and leaned his forehead to Caelwen’s, the two breathing each other in.

When they finally pulled away entirely, Lucifer glanced at his watch, eyes widening at the time. He stood and pulled Caelwen with him, moving to stand in front of her. “I have to leave for the night, unfortunately. I’m glad we cleared the air and that I listened. I’ll be calling soon for our first date,” he winked. “And I do believe I owe you flying lessons! So we’ll need to fit that in, too!” Lucifer grinned broadly at Calewen, feeling truly excited for the first time in a while.

Caelwen smiled back and pulled Lucifer into a hug. “I can’t wait,” she whispered before pulling back. They two kissed once more, and then Lucifer was gone in a flash or red. Caelwen fell back onto her bed, face stretched into a wide grin as she buzzed with excitement. Things were looking up in her life and nothing could bring her down.

A knock sounded at her door. Caelwen sat up and looked at the door curiously, it was late so no one should be at her door. Another knock came and the brunette quickly covered herself and her room in shadows as she went to open the door. Instead of literally any other resident, there stood Alastor with his stupid grin and mic.

Madame C felt any remaining happiness drain from her at the sight of Alastor. “What do you need?” she asked harshly.

Alastor leaned towards the shadow demon, “I was just wanting to check on you, my dear! You were so quiet during dinner, one would think you wouldn’t stop talking now that you can!” His staticky voice grated on Madame C’s nerves.

The shadow demon leveled Alastor with a glare, “I’m fine. Just doing my job to observe and ensure everyone is safe. Thank you for checking. I’m going to bed now, though, so goodnight.” Closing the door before the radio demon could say anything else, Madame C dropped her shadows and ensured her barrier was sealed tight. Leave it to that fucker to ruin what had been a perfect night.

 

A/N – I have no idea why this was so hard to write. But whatever. Also, this obviously doesn’t take us to extermination day, but I also didn’t want this chapter to be a novel on its own. We’re now about 3 months out from the extermination, and I’m hoping to cover that time in the next chapter. So this story overall will be longer than expected.

A/N 2 – It’ll probably be about a week before the next chapter is out. I’ve gotta flesh out the dates and stuff while not making each one a chapter 🤦‍♀️

Tag list: @leximus98

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #helluva boss

[starlitangels]

Wanderlust with Guy please and thank you!

I love your works! 💚 anon

What a delightful word! A friend of mine said that would be her superhero name if she had one. I always loved the idea.

Anyway

Wanderlust

—

Raising a brow, you lean back from the sink where you're washing dishes. "What are you doing?" you ask. Sharper than you meant, but then again Guy is used to that by now.

His head snaps up from where he's been staring at his laptop. You thought he was still working on the script for another episode of the TV show he's been writing (and rewriting) since before you got together, but now you're getting suspicious that's not the case. "I don't know what you mean, honey," he said.

The dimple in his left sinks into his cheek as he loses the fight in suppressing a smile.

"The hell you don't," you mutter, turning the sink off. You shake the water from doing the dishes off your hands and wipe the rest on a dishtowel, moving to go over. "You've sighed wistfully four times in the last ten minutes. What are you even doing?"

He partially closes his laptop, a blush riding high on his cheekbones, darkening the freckles spattered over his skin. "Nothing, baby!"

You drop your elbow on the back of the couch and perch your chin on your hand. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?" you say. Flatly—but with a hint of amusement.

"I'm not lying! I really am doing nothing!"

"Then what's the wistful sighing about?"

In typical Guy fashion, he sputters. "D'oh—well—I—uh—it's just that—mmm—" He makes a face. Adorable in the attempt at frustration. "I was looking at potential locations for that movie I was telling you about wanting to write."

You nod, raising one brow higher than the other. "Mmhmm...?"

Ears turning a deep, dark red, Guy opens his laptop properly again. "I got carried away." He shows you the screen.

"Babe, how many Pinterest boards do you have at this point?"

"This is only my..." He switches tabs and counts. It takes him a while. "Forty-ninth!"

"And what's this new one?"

"Well... uh... like I said. It started out as locations for the spy movie. But then I got distracted by some of the recommended Pins below the ones I was looking at. And, uh... it kinda turned into..." He scrolls up to the top, showing the board's title. "Everywhere I hope you and me get to travel together."

Wanderlust

"I," you correct.

"What?"

"You and I. You said 'you and me.' But grammatically it's I." You give him a small, fond smile. "You're the writer. I figured you'd know that."

He gives you a patented Guy Dramatic Look™. "Honey, do you know how much braining it takes to make the words go? I'm not in braining mode. I'm in 'chill on Pinterest' mode! I'm allowed to make grammar errors when I talk if I want!"

You snicker and kiss the side of his head. "Move your computer."

He shuffles it to the side that you're not on. You vault the back of the couch and land next to him. Pretending to ignore the way his breath catches and his pupils dilate as you drape an arm over his shoulders. "That was hot, you know that?"

"Mm. So you've mentioned once or twice. Why do you think I keep doing it?" You give him a sly, wry smirk before peering over his shoulder at his screen. "Go on. Show me where we're gonna go."

He's still staring at you, though his gaze has dipped a little lower, watching where the U-shaped divet between your collarbones sinks and shallows with your breathing. "Can that, uh... wait till later?" he asks. "Because, uh... I just had a much better idea." His voice shifts to that joking, flirtatious one he always uses as he gives you a wink and a lopsided smile.

You flatten a look at him. "Which is?"

"Oh... I don't know... it might involve you shoving me down onto the bed... and things of that nature. Maybe uh... playing a little rough, if you know what I mean—heh-heh!"

"You're a nightmare," you mutter. "Show me the damn Pinterest board."

He flops his head backward and groans. "You're no fuuun—"

You cut him off by grabbing his collar and pulling him in for a rough kiss. He yelps before melting into it. You can't help but snicker. He falls for it every time and you know how much he likes it when you surprise him.

He pulls back a little breathless. "Still wanna see the Pinterest board?"

"I saw enough of it. Beaches and cities and highlands. We can talk about the dreams and the details later. Let's skip to the good part this time."

His pupils blow even wider. "Whatever you say, honey," he says.

#💚 anon #Star does Micro Fics #(reminder MF requests are closed this is me catching up) #Redacted Audio #Redacted ASMR #Redacted Guy #Redacted Honey

[jrueships]

AHEM.

Why Jaren Jackson Jr. is a bottom: A List

1. The poor guy will do anything for attention from the team, ESPECIALLY from Ja.

2. Big guy that just wants to impress his tiny boyfriend (the same boyfriend that definitely tops him). He shows off just for the praise 😭

3. That one video of him doing that little tip-tap dance when Ja gave him the attention that he was practically begging for. IT WAS SO CUTE 😭😭😭

4. His outfits. He’s just showing off for his man (in hopes of something happening 🥰).

5. His legssssss. No way Ja doesn’t take advantage of his thighs. His thighs and ass are the main reasons why he’s the bottom. Always COVERED in h*ck*es.

6. Ja may be WAYYY shorter, but his personality is big. Jaren is WAYYY taller, but his personality is smaller (which is still quite big lol).

7. I almost view their relationship as a Kyle/DeMar type thing. If that makes sense?? Kyle and Ja are bossy and most people would assume they are both bottoms. But they aren’t. THEIR BIG GUYS ARE.

8. Jaren always looking at what Ja shows him on his phone. He’d do anything for that man to be happy (bottom behavior).

this was all off the top of my head, so it may not make total sense??? if i think of more reasons why i’ll tell you 😭😭😭

REAAAAAALLL!!!!!! IVE BEEN JUST READIN N READIN THIS AS A LITTLE DOG BISCUIT FOR ME... AN LITTLE TREAT <33 ... but i have decided to POP THIS BABY OUT N CELEBRATE WOOHOOO HAPPY DPOY JARENNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! *posts ask containing listed statements on why you are a sheet clawer

happy dpoy ? confused and scared but still trying to act happy jasper the dolphin voice before tyler in a wig and heels evaporates his whole existence

FIOOORST of all,,, thank u for numbering these down bcs u KNOW I love love LOVEE tackling ALL my moots details this is so FUUUN!!!!!

1. The poor guy will do anything for attention from the team, ESPECIALLY from Ja.

LITERALLLYYYY!!! EXAAAACTLY!!!! YESSSSS!!!! made me whip out my 3 go to replies after listening to my friend hate on the same shit i hate or make THE REALEST points to ever point in the whole history of points, on the latter side FOSHURE!! youre literally so right tho like....

you can't look at him... at his ACTIONS!! and TELL me he is Not FOR THE TEAM!!! LIIIKE (i DONT listen to icespice i am NOT a munchI AM NO T A M U NCH‼️‼️)(I SAID LIKE BEFORE HER AND AFTER MEAN GIRLS OKAY!!!!!!) Everyone was lowkey getting a little jealous of the ABSOLUTE LEAASH brandon Clarke has had on jaren.... but like. Can You Blame Him. Clarke is GORGEOUS. He's like a 6'8 ja but more importantly without the mental problems. Ja acting out by being all 'alpha male whatever 🙄'.. he wanna be jarens man again soo bad. JA!! get this thru ur SKINNY BEAVIS N BUTTHEAD HEAD!!! jaren liked U bcs u were a LESBIAN!!! who is also bisexual. He will ALWAYS be YOUR LITTLE MEOW MEOW or whatever u guys roleplay in bed or discord lmfao WHEN URE AROUND!!! Jaren is just a very im gonna give up 110% of myself to whoever i happen to be around AND U GOTTA LEARN TO UNDERSTAND THAT!!!! like he literally opened his legs to u and ure like 5ft tall like. Let's not act like he has high standards now or something. He dreams of dill*n brooks. Daily. Not even nightmares. Full on straight up not straight wet dreams bro. Find your inner zen ja. Please. For the good of your baby mama (jaren.

2. Big guy that just wants to impress his tiny boyfriend (the same boyfriend that definitely tops him). He shows off just for the praise 😭

THE AMOUNT OF SHORT KING PROPAGANDA BEING PASSED RN!!! I AM TRULY LIVING Y E S !!! THIS THIS THIS!!!!

he said WHEN U FEELIN COCKY!! I M FEELIN COCKY!!!!!! .... u know... and if u feelin like... a certain COCKy.... just so happeningly around u know... someone submissive and breedable...ME then...you know... im still feelin kinda cocky too... namean 🥺👉🏿👈🏿..?

Ja pausing briefly in peace to read this 3:02 (minutes kept random to make it seem like jaren hasnt been agonizing & planning this text for over fifty days and nights) before he's about to tweet out another threat to yet another small child: ........ what 😑?

it's so cute... and a little sad 😭 like he wants him so bad. Walking all normal but suddenly prancing all giddy like a done up horse (unicorn) whenever ja even as much as LOOKS at him!! please jaren.... ure whining at this point. Salivating all over this little pebble of a man. This twig. i Love it, frankly. i Do. he needs this santas helpers d*ck and he needs it Bad .give it to him NOW, ja! RIGHT NOW.

TURDAE ‼️‼️

3. That one video of him doing that little tip-tap dance when Ja gave him the attention that he was practically begging for. IT WAS SO CUTE 😭😭😭

LIKE GET IT TOGETTHER JAREN!!! he is head over TIPPY TAPPY DANCEY H E E L S for that online thug it's SO funny 😭. Ja half assing to pretend hes a security guard like jaren started and jaren being so happy abt it 😭😭 when the bf agrees to be the rainbow pony to ur pink pony in ponyville. THEN WHEN DESMONDS TRYING TO JUST GET HIS INTERVIEW DONE JAREN PLOPS HIMSELF NEXT TO HIM MIMICKING HIS POSE?? STARING?? pulling out ALL the stupid little tactics to try and get him mr handsome to notice him.. then he scoots closer when he doesn't PLEASE babygirl!!! Daddy's working 😾. IMKIDDINGSORRYLMFAO i need to stop saying that ironically, people are gonna think imsrs.. Anyways. I took a screenshot but thanks to jarens long neck.. he looked like a roadside 4legged human-like creepypasta monster so. Nvm. BUT AFTER THAT HE TRIES LIKE? TAPPING DESMONDS giant hunk of an ARM! by God. I know what you are jaren! AND HE DOESNT EVEN GET NOTICED THERE??? like throughout that whole thing desmond didn't even look at him once 😭. AT LEAST JA SPARED THE POOR SOUL A SINGLE SECOND GLANCE FOR HIM TO GET ALL GIGGLY OVER!!!! Desmond is so cool guy who doesn't have a personality to him and only makes npc responses if any. I think jaren is kind of obsessed. He wants to suck his **** so bad. Maybe that's why ja spared him a crumb of attention. Like when u let the leash a lil long then suddenly keep it short. That's so mean. Do it Again, ja.

4. His outfits. He’s just showing off for his man (in hopes of something happening 🥰). 5. His legssssss. No way Ja doesn’t take advantage of his thighs. His thighs and ass are the main reasons why he’s the bottom. Always COVERED in h*ck*es.

combining because i am a GREAT THINKER 🗣!!!! but moving on YES!! TIMES A MILLION! The fact that jjj has admitted he has a habit of buying new clothes like everyday.... who do u have in mind when u buy those jarebear? Is it someone little that likes to hype up whatever cool new thing you've got interesting to him ? Hm? Suspicious.

H*CKIES ALONG HIS THIGHS PLEAAAAASEE PLE A SE!!! P L E ASE!!!! just ONE fic where someone tops him and leaves h*ckies ob those HUGEMONGO CHUN-LI thighs PLEASE anyone PLEASE!!!! IM TIRED OF US ONLY HAVING THE VISION!!@ WE NEED THIS IN PICTURE OR PAPER!!! N O W!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i KNOW ja **** him *** i just KNOW he does he probably BITES it im so. LISTEN. THIS IS COMIN STR8 FROM THE SOURCE. I AM JUST THE MESSENGER!!! we know. We KNOW. Jaren ALWAYS wears compression leggings... and for What. FROM what? FROM WH O M?

For WHOM???? Ja's playing around pretending to help the pt stretch jarens legs by coming from the side or behind and he kinda grabs his thigh-like and grips it a little teasingly cus he knows.. it's a little Sensitive. From last night. Well it better be anyways. And his fingers squeeze near that inner thick of the thigh and jaren let's out a jolt and a lil HEY :oO !!!! That makes the pt guy usher ja out (he just thinks they're playin.. has no idea.) (Jaren intends to PLEASE JA. KEEP IT THAT WAY!!!) And ja snorts n snickers n scampers off Knowing that Jaren Knows HE knows. And jarens trying not to giggle, trying to keep his frowny face or roll his eyes like that wasn't anything but annoying. Like his face isn't feeling like a forestfire right now. it's Sick. it's Sickening. . . M o r e.

6. Ja may be WAYYY shorter, but his personality is big. Jaren is WAYYY taller, but his personality is smaller (which is still quite big lol).

HE IS A S H O R T KING!!@@! MAMA AYE!! i belive in his SHORT KING SUPREMACY!!! okay!! Jaren is but a mouse compared to his giant ego. When jaren tries shoving someone it's like... ok little guy. Let's get you to bed. When someone shoves ja it's Uh Oh. For Real. Top girlboss bottom malewife relationship my Beloved. LOVE hearing other's thoughts n comments on players personalities !!!! it's so cool!!

7. I almost view their relationship as a Kyle/DeMar type thing. If that makes sense?? Kyle and Ja are bossy and most people would assume they are both bottoms. But they aren’t. THEIR BIG GUYS ARE.

THIS IS.... I DO NOT GURANTEE UR SAFETY FROM THE KYLE/DEMAR GIRLIES. but i LOVE the idea behind it. Just because a person in the relationship has the fatter ass doesn't mean they can't top ok!!!!! Im so big behind this FLAT ASSES NEED LOVE TOO!!! Shoutout sauce gardner for leading the 2 dimensional bttm booty charge. I believe in you an them bones, my bratty bttm king. anyways... ur mind may be too great for this world... cherish it. Always. Big guys bottomimg... ure so real for this. My sibling in stronghold.

8. Jaren always looking at what Ja shows him on his phone. He’d do anything for that man to be happy (bottom behavior).

YHE PHONE OBSERVATION PLEAAASEEE !!! YES!!!!

Ja just looking up: How Do I Play Papa's Pizzareea On My Phobe. 💯

And jarens smiling and laughing and staring at dreamy like he's watching ja write up their marriage vows. Jaren thumbs up jas memes physically when they don't get thumbed up digitally on reddit. He's his little 6'10 cheerleader and he will live and die by the pompom. Giggling and twirling his hair and kicking his feet and getting all happy to write in his fuzzy pink princess diary abt how ja gave him a Cool and Aloof😎 Signaturely Awesome Sauce 😎 ja head nod of approval when jaren helps him spell restaurant in the Google maps. (Jaren also got it wrong and they were 25 minutes late to the restaurant) (their table was taken but ja took care of it.) (Don't Ask How.) This 6'10 man rlly makes himself SO babygirl all for these little gremlins to ignore or sometimes nod at. It's like snow white and the seven dwarvOKAY IM KIDDING IM SORRY LOL. jarens just so. All of This. Yeah. You really read him like a book 😭😭 caught him spread eagle LMFAO! i YEARN to hear more I REALLY DO!!! DO NOT BE SHY IN REMEMBRANCE........ this is for History. this is for... Ted .

#a whole ask on how jaren is a massive simpering pitiful and pathetic little simp for ja and the grizzlies #i WANT TO EAT THIS AND KEEP IT IN MY BELLY 4EVER!!!! #im so. #i lobe this #THANK U for writing this #me and the tumblr community needed this DESPERATELY u are doing a FINE WORK #if liking tall bttms were a crime we would be in capital hill or whatever state penitentiary whatever #LOCK US UP FOR HAVING TASTE !!! #we speak only the truth nothing but the truth ur honor i SWEAR IT!!!!!! #i love this. truly. thank u #old man voice as he holds ur one hand with his two old man hands #tha secret to love is...... #*barely alive quakey tone #bttm jaren jackson.... jrrrrrrrr #passes away and rots #ted asks #ted longer #ted sus #jaren #ja #des #clarke

[wolfakira]

Hello!

So you have reblogged my ask game, huh? 😈

You know what it means. Here I go asking you something embarassing! 😂 Just kidding... hopefully.

🌿 Do you like to add something in your bath? If yes, what? (Bath salt, foam, dried or fresh herbs, lemon slices, water friendly crystals, etc.)

And one which is actually a bit more personal:

🪑 What's your favourite adult toy? Or which one you would love to have?

You can answer only the first one if you don't feel comfortable about the second one 😊

Kleo backs away into the mist again... 🤭

Hiiii, Kleooo! 🥰

Hope you’re having a great day, and this is actually super fuuun! Thank you for creating this and for sending in a question for me as well 😊

🌿 - I wanted to try lemon slices in my bath routine, but sadly my skin is a bit too sensitive 🥲 so I usually just go for milk and dried rose petals 💗

🪑- I actually bought my first sex toy (a vibrator) last month, and it’s honestly one of my best purchase yet! 🫣 But one that I would love to have would beeeee, the one called “thrusting rabbit” 😂 idk, it seems fun to play with it?

Its fun being able to talk about topics like these 🤭

#ask #ask game #send asks #ask me anything #asks open

[myreygn]

That game of yours sounds like soooo much fuuun~ ♥️ if it's okay could I request 95 and one of my current obsessions UshiDai? If your not cool with that pairing than maybe MatsuIwa? And if you're not cool with that one either maybeeeee IwaOi? Hehe I hope this is not too troublesome, thank you~

an: okay so TECHNICALLY ushijima is on my list of characters i don't write for and i was just about to go with matsuiwa, but then i got an idea and i think it worked out just fine haha maybe it's time i try some new things - this was honestly so much fun!

warnings: gang/outlaw au, mentioned character death

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95 - ZITTI E BUONI by Måneskin

(translation to english)

If you told him two years ago that Wakatoshi would be running from the cops with the boss of a rival gang, he would've laughed. (And that means a lot, because he rarely ever smiles, let alone laughs.)

But here he is, on the top of a shed, pulling up Sawamura so they can escape through the garden of the family living in this house. At least Wakatoshi assumes that it's a family, judging by the bikes and footballs lying around on the grass. Then there's a gunshot and he realizes that he doesn't have the time to think about bikes and balls and families. (Although he feels a little bad for this one when they trample through their vegetable garden.)

"Stop dreaming!" Sawamura shouts and grabs him by the wrist, pulling him over to the fence. Wakatoshi does as he's told, despite not being the type to take orders, and jumps, lands, tumbles, runs. Soon the wailing of the sirens dies down behind them and they stop to catch a breath.

"Man, that was close." Sawamura laughs and Wakatoshi thinks that it's beautiful how he can have so much fun with something so dangerous. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good." The last person to ask him if he was okay was Tendou, half an eternity ago, before he got a bullet in the chest. It feels strangely good to have someone care for him again. (No one cares for gang bosses, and especially not the ones from high class elite gangs, the once who usually blackmail the cops instead of running away from them.)

"That must've been totally new for you, hm?" Sawamura smirks, opening the door of his hideout and letting Wakatoshi in. "I bet you never had to run from anyone before."

"I won't go against that." The sofa is old and dusty, but unlike the sofas in their own HQ, it does look like home rather than the waiting room of a dentist's office.

"Were you scared?"

"A little, maybe."

"First time is always scary. By now, we know where to go and where to hide. There are certain places cops can't follow."

There are very, very few people who Wakatoshi takes advice from, but he's able to acknowledge when it's necessary. Sawamura is definitely more skilled when it comes to running away than he is.

"Thank you for showing me how to do it."

"Don't mention it." Sawamura winks at him and it makes warmth spreads in Wakatoshi's chest. "It was a real controversy, but I don't think these things should be reserved for Karasuno only."

"But… these are your ways, right? I kind of understand why your friends wouldn't want me to know about them."

"Yeah, but sometimes it's good to let someone new walk your ways. They might find a shortcut you were unable to see, because you were too focused on what was already there."

Sawamura Daichi is a wise man, which is something Wakatoshi has been aware of before, but learns to appreciate anew every single day." You're probably right."

"Of course I am!" and then Sawamura steals a quick kiss from him, as if it's the most normal thing to do.

Maybe for him, it is. There's freedom in the Karasuno ways, freedom to do and take whatever you want whenever you want, freedom to fall out of line and be wild, be rebellious, be out of the box. A freedom Wakatoshi isn't used to yet, but if it means that Sawamura will be there along this new way they choose together, he thinks that maybe, someday, he could be.

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send numbers!

#rey writes #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! fic #ushidai #ushijima wakatoshi #sawamura daichi #gang au #outlaw au

[scriptsofheaven]

Preview nectwar 📄

(1) czennies! i heard from a birdie that you are curious about my current update, isn't it? so, this is a bit of renjun's life update through “how is your night?” with rocoberry noona to have a small talk during christmas night. 🍪🎄 enjoy the video!

(2) all i want for christmas is to have my six brothers of nct dream right beside me and celebrate the jolliness alongside with our dearie czennies that always sparks me joy! ho ho ho, merry christmas, czennies. 🎅🥁

(3) bzzz, i got bored waiting for them {my brothers} to change their outfit and i spotted, a plain christmas tree. 🌲 with all of these red and white balls inside the plastic bag that i have, i decided to give some sprinkles of colors and voila! 🎄🍊

(4) boys night arrived! this time, we decided to visit walkerhill, nct dream showroom that has loots of cool spaces to take snaps and play with, like this wooden football game! we surely enjoyed our time with flashy mirror selcas, mhm. 📸

(5) christmas isn't all about red and green! sometimes, it's also embellished with a pinkish theme that emanates dulcet moments. 💗 in this pink christmas, i wish for you to be surrounded with happiness and eat lots of good treats, czennies.

(6) nct dream stay away from the blanket episode 1 is released! 🙀🥁 you would not expect what will happen in this big woody house that we lived in, czennies. it's another reality show that will show the chaotic mess of nct dream so stay tune for more! 🤭

(7) after a lengthy hours of playing games, arcades, and doing karaoke, it's time for us to splurge for some good meals and drinks at the second episode of stay away from the blanket. 🥘🥤 but these guys won't stop teasing me for sleeping!? 😾

(8) holidays were filled with me and these noisy brothers hanging around during stay away from the blanket, and i enjoyed every moment that passed. certainly, we wouldn't miss capturing the fun through digicam and phone! 'twas so much fuuun. 🕹️

(9) the breeze of the ocean caresses me gently, and the sound of the waves is a remembrance of the siren's delicate tunes. 🌊 there’s no other sonnet that is more soothing than those made by the sea. marine turtle, by nct u, shall soothe you dearly.

(10) as we share the sweet memories together, everything feels so surreal and drenched in felicity. the ticking time may pass by too quickly, but we treasure every moment. once again, our happiness is captured with dazzling blue scenery. 💙

(11) if czennies are looking for soothing song with magical sceneries of sea, and beach, you’d not want to miss this mystical and enchanting marine turtle by nct u! 🐢 we had a good time filming this music video, so i hope you guys enjoyed it.

(12) the beauty of shores and its horizon above remain to be the most alluring parts of filming marine turtle. it felt like spending my leisure by taking my friends to the beach, where our bare feet touched the wet sand and giggled together. 🌊

[sergeanthatredbignaturals]

Mandetory Intro Post

Fun facts!

Right, so we’ve got the mandate into post here lads.

I’m Moth. I also go by Madeon, Nexus (or just Nex), Scythe, and Blood Lust (typically just Lust)

I’m also a Sweetheart (OMORI) irl or whatever that’s called (I’m schizophrenic 🔥🔥🔥) so like yeah. Do with that what you will

I’m part of a system, suspected P-DID but we’re not sure. I’m the host, and i run this account so like don’t expect to see anything posted by anyone else y’know? If there is something posted by someone else it’ll be stated in the post so people will know

Uuh, if it wasn’t already obvious, big Venture Bros fan (the show kinda sucks fucking ass, but I’m acoustic [autistic] and it’s literally taken over my fucking life [killing myself/j])

Fuckin’ uuh- ion even know how many Venure Bros introjects we got at this point

Theres quite a few, I’m gonna check Simply Plural and hope i remembers to register at least most of them

Theres about 17, i think? Theres 15 on there, and an additional 2 that i can remember so fuuun (this Godforsaken show has taken over my life, send help)

Right so I’m homozygous (I’m omniflux, and like half the aromantic labels ever/hj) I’m also alexigender, and identify with far too many fuckin’ xenogenders (i have no clue how many, I’m lazy and haven’t made a proper list) and i use any pronouns. I’m also polyamorus and am dating several alters within our system

DNI

Proshippers

Homophobic

Transphobic

Ableist

Racist

Alla that bullshit

Just generally bigoted

Pro-Isreal (hope you’re having fun supporting literal fucking genocide

Pro-endo, or just general non-traumagenic systems (guys i have PTSD but without the T soundin’ bullshit, like dawg that is literally impossible)

Mspec lesbian supporters, and everything in that cesspit of this place

Anti-neopronoun/xenopronoun/whatever other pronouns there are/xenogender

I’ll add more when I’m less fucking exhausted and can actually think

BYI

I’m 23, but the body is like 16

I tend to yap on a lot

Very down bad, probably will post/repost NSFW content, however it will be tagged as #nsft

(If it wasn’t already obvious) Sergeant Hatred fan, will post about him, will write out essays in his defence

Cannot spell for shit half the time, autocorrect is all that’s kept this shit legible

Very heavily opinionated (i feel like that’s obvious at this point but i also feel is should clarify)

I will be posting OC (realistically self insert) x cannon shit, so like go away if that bothers you for whatever reason

I’m a Sweetheart IRL, as stated before, i have memories of my ex-husband, i may post shit about that in the future. If you have attachments to Spaceboy and that makes you uncomfortable to see someone shitting on him then like don’t follow me, or tell me and i can add a warning to posts if you want. Ion really mind

That’s about it for now

Toodles

#venture brothers #sgt hatred #courtney robert haine #sgt. hatred #vatred #uncle vatred #sgt vatred #pookie boo boo bear Hatred #i love him dearly #my little meow meow #go team venture #the venture bros #the venture brothers #autism #mental illness #meow :3 #system #anti endo #omori sweetheart #sweetheart irl #actually delulu

[angeltonic]

<3 Soft Bias Tag <3

I was tagged by @neorithic aka Rose (thanks bub <3)

I don't know the rules and which bias you’re supposed to talk about but my first ever bias out of everyone was Vernon! So I thought I'd talk about him, my #1, the love of my life.

Here we goooooo 🍃

Who is your bias: Vernon 💕

What made you notice them: Svt was the first group I've really been a fan of, kpop wise. My friend showed me Adore U and Mansae back in 2015 and she pointed out Vernon to me first. I remember seeing him in his long brown hair and bandana and I said: "heck, he's adorable and now Im trapped."

what's your favorite thing about them: My go-to answer would be all of him, as he's quite literally one of my favorite people to ever exist (🙁💕) But the one thing that sticks out is his open-mindedness and perspective on the world. I feel like he's aware of society's faults and where people could improve. To me, he would also be very willing to learn more about the plights of people with different experiences from the ones he's had. I think he would be like that when it comes to anything, really, which is why I think he's very open-minded. He's up for new experiences and challenges, and would be down to learn about anything and everything.

who would initiate skinship more:   (Oh boy, I'm getting soft) I think it would definitely be me, Vernon doesn't strike me as a very physically affectionate person. But I ❤love❤ physical contact, hand holding, hugging, etc. So I feel like I'd be the one leading that department.

who would hog the blankets more:   I know for a fact that I am the most lifeless sleeper in the world. I dont move at all or make any noise what so ever BUT I do love sleeping all cosy and stuff so I just might take a little bit extra from his side.

who would be more clingy:    Im not a clingy person, I do like affection but I wouldnt describe it as clinginess. But I feel like I would miss being around him easier than he would miss being around me, if that makes sense? I'd probably start feeling it in like a week of not seeing him but he probably wont until a little afterwards.

who would say I love you first:     I think I have a lot of love and affection to give, so maybe me? BUT relationships also scare the living fuck out of me, so I'd very much be terrified, which would lead me to possibly not saying anything for a long time. I also think that he's the kind of person where saying I love you is a really big deal, like he really really needs to build that relationship and trust first before anything, so that would delay it for a while too. But I'd probably crack first to be very honest.

who would be more easily flustered:    Oh Christ, I feel like the both of us?? Vernon's ridiculously awkward and so am I. So I think we would make each other flustered and probably joke about it afterwards 😌

What cuddling position would you two have:   You can never go wrong with a good ol' spooning. Im super willing to be either big or little spoon so I dont mind, though I think he might prefer big spoon. I would also not mind him laying on me to be honest? Like on my chest, while I play with his hair. Also, technically not a cuddling position, but I love when people put their head on my lap! Like aw :( thank you for trusting me with your noggin.

which colors remind you of them and why:   One of the things that attract me the most about Vernon is his seemingly calm energy. Simply put, he seems like a super chill guy and I, the Queen of overthinking/anxiety, really need that opposite in my life. This makes me associate him with colors that are calming to me such as: light blue, white, forest green, soft grey, etc.

which season would you like to spend with them:   Literally all of them, my whole life’s worth of seasons. Heck, even my afterlife. But I feel like my favorite would be summer. To me, Vernon feels like the best friend you'd fall in love with and what better season to spend with your best friend than summer, where you're free to make all the memories you want? I think we would do a lot of hanging out in backyards, going to arcades, catching up on some webtoons in the middle of the day while eating some ice cream, or movie nights where we spend time in a fort that took us like 2 hours to make because my perfectionist Virgo mind couldn't get over the pillows being positioned a certain way or something, exploring the city or going to a completely different place we've never been to, outside of the city. I would also take him to all of my family bbqs in Connecticut, where I can teach him how to dance bachata as my mom and tias marvel at the fact that he's at least trying.

who would bake cookies and who would steal the batter:  I think it would be something we do together after spending a few hours at one of our houses. Eventually, it's gonna be baking time. I would mix everything, while he takes little bits out of the bowl cause we know he's usually the type to eat ANYTHING first and then when I try to scold him about salmonella he giggles and offers me some. I, weak and fragile for the boy, accept his offer and pretend to be mad about it.

which one of you would make bad puns and how would the other react: LISTEN, half of my humor is made of puns. Now, Vernon is either the King of Reactions or the King of Barely Having a Reaction. I feel like if it was a good one he'd laugh with that silly ass laugh of his and high five me but if it kinda sucked he'd probs chuckle at me with a disapproving look on his face tbh.

which one of you would nearly burn down the kitchen trying to microwave a poptart and who come to the rescue:    V E R N O N. Definitely, Vernon. And then I would run in there, with my heart beating out of my chest because for fuck'sake Vernon, our lease isn't even up yet and you almost burned the place to ashes.

who likes to lean over tall railings and who pulls them back:   I love, love, LOVE high places, so I would lean first. He'd then come over and lean with me but he'd pull away first and would have to drag me away too ://

what would you watching a horror film with them be like:   I love watching horror movies for the simple fact that I find them hilarious and usually laugh throughout the entire thing. At first, I think he'd be like?? why are you laughing?? someone's literally being dragged down to hell in front of us and you're giggling about it? But after he gets used to it, I feel like we'd make really good commentary that leaves us in giggle fits most of the time. Unless he's really really immersed, I wouldnt wanna disrupt something he really likes.

who would be the cheesy flirt and who would be the smooth flirt:   I cant flirt for the life of me, I literally dont know, I cant function. I feel like if I tried I'd definitely be cheesy though. As for Vernon, he's also super awkward as I said, so he'd jokingly try to be smooth but it just ends up being cheesy and really funny.

who is more competitive:    I dont associate Vernon with competitiveness at all, he seems like he's just in it to have a good time, with good people. I'm like that too for the most part. But if we're talking Uno, Scrabble, Jeopardy, or Kahoot, Im tearing him a new one.

who would have to be given constant reminders:   I feel like we'd remind each other of things but I would remind him to do simpler things like tidy up the room, or that it's his turn to do the dishes and where the keys are. Whereas, I think he'd have to remind me of things that I forget when I get too caught up in my head like eating properly, sleeping well, and knowing when to stop and enjoy my life.

who sends memes and who sends cute Im miss you text at 3 am:   We both send memes, are you kidding. That'll be most of our chat history, I'd have a whole folder just dedicated to ones I can use in conversation with him. I feel like I'd send the 3 am I miss you texts a lot more often, cause not only am I a super emo cancer moon but I get extra affectionate after like 1 am for WHATEVER reason. Though, I think he'd surprise me with one out of blue because I sure as hell wasnt expecting that from him. But I also think he'd find other ways of showing you he misses you without saying it. He seems like the type where you need to learn how he shows his love through his actions because he wont really do it with words.

And that's the end of that! I rambled so much I'm so so so sorry but I love Vernon with my whole heart and could ramble about him for hours.

Thanks again to Rose for tagging me!! I had a lot of fun.

Im tagging my mother dearest @bright-hao , @tuanm , @jonisuh , @agustminpd  

and anyone else who sees this and wants to give it a go <3

#feel free to do this if you want guys <33 and I cant wait to read them if you do #and if we've never talked before #hi!! I hope you're okay with me tagging you and if not please tell me! I totally wont if it makes you uncomfy #but I hope you have fuuun if you want to do this! #hvc #tag

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Can You Get Enough Of Me? - Michael Myers x Reader

"It's a nice day today, huh?" Y/N smiled up at the sky as she went back and forth in the swing. "Will you push me, Mickey?" "Sure." he shrugged as he got off his own swing and went behind her, pushing her the best he could. "Look, Mickey, I'm flying! Whooooo!" the little girl giggled without a care in the world, as Michael watched her long, beautiful hair going everywhere. "Okay, okay, I wanna swing too!" but before the girl could take her time and stop swinging, a bunch of older boys came by and roughly grabbed the chains holding the swing, which in turn, made the girl fall off and get hurt. "Y/N!" Michael gasped as he ran to her side, helping her up, and seeing the blood seeping from one of her legs and arm. "Aww, Myers's got a giiirlfriend! Look at them, gonna fuck? Girl, don'tcha know, Myers's a faggot?" the gang hollered maliciously, and Y/N could only frown, despite the tears of pain from her injuries, and clinging on Michael for support, she got up and yelled at the boys. "Leave Michael alone, jerks! You're rude!" but instead of trying to fight them off, or go in a brawl, she grabbed her friend's arm and dragged him away from there, knowing that if he were to get in trouble again, he'd get some bad detention, and that's the last thing she'd want. Besides...Two kids couldn't possibly fight those guys. "Why didn't you let me fight them?! I could've taken them on!" the blond boy glared at his friend, who only rolled her eyes and sighed at his childishness. "No, you couldn't. Besides, if the teachers find out you got in trouble again, who knows what will happen? Come on, let's go to the fountain, I have to wipe off the blood." Y/N muttered, going on ahead to sit on the rocks by the fountain and took out her handkerchief from her little bag, dipping it in the water and carefully wiping away the red liquid streaming down her limbs, hissing from the pain here and there, but otherwise, staying completely silent. "I'm sorry..." the girl suddenly heard the blond boy mutter, barely audible. "Huh? What do you have to be sorry about, Mickey?" as her eyes widened from the shock, she leaned forward, raising his chin up with her finger. "...I couldn't protect you. I suck. I'm as bad as that fuckass says I am..." he sighed, gently pulling away her hand and looking away from her. "Look at what they did to you. Could've been much worse. And yet, you stood up for me, while I did nothing. I'm a horrible friend." his voice was pitiful, and it was obvious he hated his lack of strength. "First of all, you aren't just my friend. You're my BEST friend. Okay? And nothing in this world will change that. Got it? Okay. Second of all, we're still little and weak. That's how kids are. Trying to fight those guys is like trying to fight the forces of nature...You...You can't fight a hurricane, you know? And...Violence isn't the answer. I mean...Look at our parents. There's nothing good coming out of that...But someday! Someday we'll get older and stronger, and nobody will bully us anymore! It just...It takes a while...I guess." she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, trying to comfort him. "That's shit! They'll see, they'll ALL pay for it! Nobody will dare be fuckers with us anymore! And when I grow up, I will make sure everyone is nice to you." he was so revolted, but his anger gradually dissipated as he felt her warmth. "Please don't speak like that. Calm down, Mickey. Things are okay now. At least we have each other, and we will always have each other, don't forget that, okay?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a while, only to hear an aggressive male voice booming through the park which made the girl yelp and tremble in fear. "GET AWAY FROM THAT FREAK, Y/N! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!" her father yelled at her and she could only whimper silently, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. "B-But daddy, Michael is not bad...! H-He tried to protect me from those mean boys from the playground!" she spoke meekly, slowly walking in front of her father, her head hung in fear, only for the man to burry his hand in

her hair, pulling on it roughly, making the girl yelp in pain. "Don't talk back to me, you stupid little bitch! You have no right to go against what I say while you're under MY roof, got it? Home, now." Michael couldn't even retaliate in any way, knowing that if he were to cause trouble for her, she would get in even more trouble, and that's the last thing he'd want...But why did it have to be her...?

He can take it, alright...But her...That's just not acceptable. She is small, and weak, and frail, and innocent...And there is nobody who can protect her.

Nobody but him...

----

"Michael, Michael, are we going trick or treating today?" Y/N asked, skipping around him in her cutesy witch costume, while he was a boring clown. "I guess." he shrugged, pulling down his clown mask. "Come on, it's Halloween, Mickey! You love Halloween! It's your favourite holiday! And we get free candy! It's gonna be fuuun~!" she bumped him with her body, making him stumble a bit, before looking at her and groaning. "Fine, fine, we're going. I just have to tell my mum." he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his house, but on the way, she stopped him. "Hey, how about we trick or treat all the houses on the way to yours? I mean, there's nothing bad in that, right? We're just going home! It's not even considered a detour!" Y/N grinned widely, her beautiful eyes sparkling with excitement. "...Okay, let's do that." as he said that, Michael took out his candy bag from his schoolbag and taking her hand, they went to all house from both sides of the street. "Trick or Treat!" they both exclaimed as the first grandma opened the door with a loving look on her face. "Ahh, my, my, how cute you two are! And what do we have here...A very adorable, magical witch! And...A funny clown! How lovely!" the woman clapped her hands together to her chest, admiring the two kids. "Ma'am, he's not just a clown, he is my jester! Isn't he so cute?" she threw her arms around his neck, slamming his face to hers as she grinned even wider, making the woman laugh at them. "Yees, yes, I understand! Here, darlings, you're so adorable, take all of these. Hope to see you two, cuties, next year as well! Have fun!" the grandma patted both their heads before going back to her home. "Wiiicked! Look how much candy we've got! My fave holiday is Christmas, but honestly, Halloween is a very close runner up! Our teeth will literally rot after this!" the girl giggled as she inspected each variety of candy in her bag, "I love it 'cause I can spare people." Michael shrugged simply, but he also munched on some candy corn. "Would you scare me, Mickey?" Y/N turned her face to his, her eyes widening with a glimmering, innocent curiosity. "...No. I wouldn't. But you're the only one, okay?! Everyone else, I'd scare!" he tried to sound scary and dangerous, but it only made the little girl giggle and kiss his cheek. "You're my hero! My handsome knight in shining armour, Mickey! Thank you for protecting me. You're the best." help his soul, he wasn't used to people saying good things about him... "...But I'm ugly...That's why I wear a mask so often..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. "No! That's so not true! You're very pretty, okay? I love your face! And you have the most gorgeous eyes in the world! And...And...And your hair is so lovely, I'm jealous! Please don't say bad things about yourself, Mickey, it makes me very upset." she pouted, hugging him tightly, and it was pretty clear neither of them wanted to let go. "You won't leave me, would you, Y/N?" Michael's low voice came out barely above a whisper, but it was the only time he ever allowed himself to show any kind of weakness or vulnerability. "Never. Some day, we will be together forever, okay?" she ruffled his hair playfully, which made his face flush softly. "Hey, actually...Here you go. This is yours now. This way, if you're ever lonely, you'll remember I'm always thinking of you, okay?" Y/N grinned sweetly at him as she took off her flower-charmed necklace and put in on him, hiding it under his costume, so nobody else could see it. "Mum gave this to me on my birthday, before she died. It means the world for me, and so do you. So...Don't forget that, okay? I hope you'd smile more, you have a very pretty smile." as she said that, she squished his chipmunk cheeks.

The boy said nothing - What was he supposed to do, anyway? He was overwhelmed entirely by the only person who makes him feel...Good? But he had to go home, and he already knew that home was hell, and by the time he went there, he knew he wouldn't actually be going trick or treating, as promised...And he'd have to let Y/N down again.

Stupid family.

With a very disappointed voice, he went outside of the house and told the girl that he can't go trick or treating with her, but instead of yelling or disappointment, she just smiled and hugged him.

"It's alright! There's always next year! And besides, we already kinda went trick or treating, right? Sweet dreams, Mickey! Take care!" she waved at him cheerfully and skipped back home.

But little did she know that would be the last Halloween they'd spend together, for that night, a massacre happened at his home, and deep down, Y/N knew.

She just...Knew.

It was Michael who created that blood bath. He couldn't take all that abuse anymore, and Y/N understood that well enough...And she hated herself for thinking this, but she knew she was selfish...

If Michael didn't kill his family, they'd still have been able to hang out daily, and laugh together, lick each other's wounds, and go trick or treating on Halloween...

But she had to be happy with visiting him at Smith's Grove institute weekly with his mum, and they'd chat, and talk, and try to get him out of the shell that he hid himself into...

And he wouldn't stop hiding his face behind his masks, every week, a new one, a new one, and a new one, each time, weirder and creepier and grotesque.

No matter what his mother told him, and no matter what Y/N told him...Michael didn't listen, and the more time he spent there, the less he spoke...Until he hasn't said a word to Y/N in at least two weeks. It made the poor girl tear up, fearing that he hated her, but at least he'd shake his head and clutch his shirt where the gifted necklace would be.

And she would understand.

His mother was confused, and the Dr. was confused as well, but Y/N wasn't, and she'd smile at him and wouldn't explain what happened. It was their little secret, and nobody would be able to be made aware of.

And then...After many weeks of visiting, Michael stuck again and killed a nurse, which led to his mother committing suicide, and since she had nobody to go with to visit him, the last thing she could do was send in letters weekly, hoping they will be given to him, but she had no way of knowing, since nobody wanted to tell her anything, and no reply came by.

Until she gave up writing, thinking that Michael actually hated her, and decided to go on with her life, and her father made her move away to another state to get better education.

15 years passed, and the now 27 year old Y/N was a University graduate who worked hard and was able to get her old home in Haddonfield...To think she'd finally be able to go there again, she never would have thought that.

But here she was, having found a nice, well-paying job, and she was pretty happy, albeit nostalgic, being again back...Home. By the time she returned, she had already learnt how to play the guitar too, so every Friday night, she'd sit on her porch and play a song, softly singing along, hoping not to disturb anyone.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for loving me..." she hummed, singing the song by Kiss as she looked up at the starry night with no care in the world.

It was a simple life, but it was good and peaceful - And she had quite a lot of money to do with as she pleases - What else could ask for?

"BREAKING NEWS! A psychiatric patient from Smith's Grove escaped just last night and -..." but Y/N didn't bother hearing the rest of it, because...Because... "Michael...!" she gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands from the shock, tears threatening to fall and she goes outside, looking around, left and right, down the street, hoping to see a glimpse of the blond boy she once held so dear to her heart.

And what a coincidence, tomorrow night was Halloween...Did he do it on purpose? Did he even remember the days they spent together? Or how special Halloween was for him? Did he still have that silly necklace with him? Did he ever read her letters?

So many questions that she was pretty sure she'll never get an answer to, and that thought alone killed her.

The next day, she dressed in her Kiss loose Tshirt, remembering how that was Michael's favourite band, and somewhere in her heart, she hoped to see him again, even just by a little bit. Even a glimpse at his beautiful blue eyes would be enough.

But she knew she was dreaming...

She went to work as usual, but she was so busy that she didn't realise she ended up overstaying and overworking herself until she left the place and realised it was already dark outside, and there were barely any children trick or treating - But hey, there still were a few - And Y/N couldn't help but smile and remember the cute witch and her loyal jester.

The good times...

As she hummed carefree and looked up at the starry sky, but then she heard a crack, and looking back...Nothing? Hmm...Suspicious... She continued walking, but the ominous feeling in the back of her head continued, and so, she took out her pocket mirror and noticed a man somewhere in the back, walking towards her. A colleague from work, she recognised him, yes, she remembers him. He was kicked out from the job because of his inappropriate behaviour...And him following her now truly was no good news.

Analysing the situation, she realised she was close enough to home to make a break for it, so taking a deep breath, she sprinted the hell out of there...But...things didn't go as expected.

Before she could even reach her home, for she was pushed to the ground and straddled, his hands immediately finding their way around her neck, trying to immobilise her, to stop her from struggling and let him have his way with her.

But Y/N was a fighter, and she didn't want to allow the bullying she experienced as a child to take over her adult life, but she also didn't have the body strength to go against this guy, no matter how much she tried to struggle.

However...Before she knew it, the man stopped - Almost as if he froze - And she was splattered with liquid. It was blood. The man above her was stabbed in the chest, then in the head continuously, before his body was snatched and tossed away like a ragdoll.

Great - Y/N thought - From one criminal to another, with a whimper, she tried to get up and run away, but the man was too fast for her, and he picked her up with a weird ease, getting her inside her own house and letting her fall down on her couch.

The man saw fear in her eyes, and she was whimpering, her head hung as she tried to make herself as small as possible - As if she wasn't already so small, especially compared to him - It was pissing him off, as he remembered her jackass father abusing her. He would never hurt her! He promised her he'd always protect her, so why is she so scared of him...?!

"E-Excuse me...Uhm...Mister...A-Are you...Maybe...Uhmm...Are you Michael...?" she stuttered in such a meek voice that it grated his brain. This isn't right, Y/N was cheerful and happy. This...This wasn't right... The man got a hand underneath the neck of his blouse, only to reveal the old flower necklace from long ago. "Michael...! It really is you...Michael...I can't believe it! Oh my God...You grew up so much, this is insane!" as if a switch turned inside her, the girl jumped on her couch and threw herself on the incredibly tall man, not caring whether he liked it or not.

He was her Michael, and she missed him.

"You still don't talk, do you? Well...At least take off this mask of yours. I told you, I hate it when you hide yourself from me. I want to see your beautiful face." she chuckled, pulling Michael down with her on the couch, as he stood with his hands mid-way in the air, rather awkwardly, before finally pulling up his old mask and threading with it with his hands that were laying on his lap. "There we go, as beautiful as ever." she chuckled softly as she parted his long, dirty blond hair and letting it fall down his back, so his face could properly be seen. "Oh my God, you even have a stubble. I can't believe it. Well, we are all grown up after all, aren't we? Seems like almost yesterday when we'd go trick or treating...On this very day." she kept talking of the nostalgic things from so long ago, so much that it made Michael grunt in amusement, but his face didn't sketch any emotion. It really upset Y/N, it felt like talking to a wall. "Well, at least I'm happy that you remember me. I didn't think you did. I kinda thought you hated me too, I didn't know if you got any of my letters either. Uhm...I don't really know what to say. It's weird talking to myself like that. But I'm happy to see you again." she continued speaking before stopping altogether and fidgeting awkwardly on her spot next to him, as he didn't even move, or bother saying a single word.

They stood like that for a while, until Michael suddenly started moving, and revealed a bunch of unopened letters - All from her.

"You have all of them...!" Y/N gasped in shock, taking the letters and examining all of them one by one. "Why didn't you open them?" but instead of an answer, he shook his head. "Did you...Not have them...Until recently?" Y/N tried to guess, and the answer came in the form of a nod. "That stupid doctor! How dare he?! ...You must have felt so lonely stuck there...With your mum shooting herself, I couldn't go there anymore, so I sent you letters weekly...The doctor promised to give them to you...Urgh, what a jerk. And I thought you hated me and that's why you didn't want to reply to them...But you just got them. How annoying." Y/N groaned, realising the truth of what happened, and she let the letters fall down on the coffee table.

After some more silence between the two, Michael pointed towards her shirt, and she smiled, nodding and taking her guitar before leaning on his side. "Yeah, I know it's your favourite band. I never forgot that." she chuckled, and as she started playing the same song she knew so well - And she felt a strong arm sneaking around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. It surprised her a bit, but she felt so safe and warm in his embrace.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby..." she sang in the same sweet, crystalline, soft voice that he loved so much, and missed over the many years they've been separated.

"...Can you get enough of me?"

#slasher #slasher boyfriend #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher boyfriend imagine #slasher boyfriend x reader #michael myers #michael myers imagine #michael myers x reader #halloween #halloween imagine #halloween x reader

[cyborg-franky]

hiya franky!! this is actually rlly exciting i can't wait lmfao! congrats on 2k my lovely!!! ✨

Nickname: star

Door Number: random number generator!! (i'm feeling d e v i l i s h👹)

What will you be wearing on the date? casual clothes mainly, i don't have anything too formal in my wardrobe plus i'm not really too focused on my appearance lol. so like, maybe a tank top, cardigan, jeans and sneakers.

Booze or sober?: sober! i don't like drinking unless it's a very special occasion.

Your ideal first date: stargazing OR sunbathing!

Three personality traits about you: i can be creative when provoked (sounds like a threat, that's bc it is 🤠), i'm quick to calm myself down when i'm angry, but when i'm scared it's a completely different situation. also i can be energetic!!

Three things you look for in a partner: i don't mind the height, as long as they love me i don't really mind. they have to have patience and understanding, that's definitely important. it would be nice if they shared the same interests as i do, but i'm not too fussy :)

Thee dislikes: anybody judgemental. i don't like anyone who judges me because that shit hurts and i end up crying and hating them so uhh...anyway- i don't like anyone with anger issues, i know that they can't help it but bc of some minor traumas i kinda just...don't want that. as for the third dislike...anyone full of themselves. i get that they love themselves and that's great but that could get too much at times.

✨😌✨

Thank you so much and I hope you have fuuun <3

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

You just chill on the sofa and look at your phone, not worried, you feel comfortable so you’re feeling good. You just hope the person wouldn’t be an asshole, don’t need any short-tempered people who will judge you for being in simple clothes. The door knocks and you pick yourself up from the sofa and head over.

You open the door to see…

- Killer watches the door open and nods to you in greeting.

- He’s wearing jeans with holes up the front, a band T-shirt in a tatty state, a leather jacket that looks like it’s been worn consistently for years, a black face mask and dark shades.

- You don’t care he looks scruffy, he looks comfortable and like himself.

- “Where are we going?” You asked as you notice the sun is already setting, you knew it would be a late date but you feel it would limit things to do.

- You hoped it wasn’t some fancy restaurant, you weren’t dressed for it and you didn’t need people looking at you.

- Then again, Killer wasn’t dressed for it either.

- “I’m Star, I like your jacket by the way.”

- “Killer, and thanks, I think I got it from a thrift store like five years ago?” he shrugged and gave you the thumbs up as ‘ready to go?’ which you did in response.

- Walking with him to the sidewalk you noticed he rode a motorcycle.

- That didn’t surprise you from a man dressed like that and with a name like that.

- Checked out.

- You were handed a helmet and were glad you weren’t wearing something fancy and over the top now.

- You were nervous as heck, Killer didn’t look like the sort of person who would adhere to road safety but he was surprisingly a very good driver.

- You watched the world zoom by as the sunset tinged the world around you in golden glows.

- It was dark before he parked up somewhere, you were worried he might casually murder you because you were out in the middle of nowhere.

- You realised it was one of the big parks just outside the town.

- “Going out in the dark with a man named Killer, was that a good idea?” You asked with a laugh.

- He chuckled as he removed his shades.

- He opened the back of the bike up, getting out a few things including a battery-powered lantern. He threw a blanket at you to catch, which you didn’t’

- He didn’t seem to react though, saying anything as he carried the rest of the things.

- Killer helped you set out the blanket and he soon opened a bag he’d brought.

- “I made pasta, I thought a picnic would be a good idea, I don’t like busy or crowded places for dates.”

- You nodded and thought he was a thoughtful man.

- You admired his long blond hair and scruffy beard that he showed off noe you guys were eating.

- You didn’t learn a lot about Killer as you both talked over the food he’d made, enjoying the peaceful night and the stars overhead.

- But he was nice, polite and you even got him to chuckle at a few things.

- The drive home was just as nice, you felt more at ease on the back of his bike this time.

- He got you home and handed you a little plastic container “You said you liked it so, thought you’d like to have this as a snack tomorrow or something.”

- You smiled, Killer looked all edges but he was soft and thoughtful.

- “Thank you, I had a nice night!”

- “Me too, so yeah, see ay around.” He said with a nod, a wave.

REBLOG to going to go on a second date and return Killer’s Tupperware? Or going to steal it and hide it under the sink and never call him again?

#one piece x reader #2k event #blind date event

[twinklelilstarkey]

can i request an fluffy rafe imagine where he and reader break up (drugs) so sarah makes a girls night bc y/n it’s really sad and then rafe apologizes to her and they back together? omg i think it’s a little confuse..

A/N: Not confusing at all babe. I really like what you requested! Hope you enjoy it! — I’m sorry for not making it as fluffy as you probably wanted me too ❤️

Get help - Rafe Cameron

Words: 2.9k

Type: Angst & Fluff

Warnings: I- This is wayyy more sad that I intended it to be. Sorry? (Mentions of drug addiction and rehabilitation clinics, swearing... and I think that’s it)

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

It’s been a week since you last saw him and it still hurt. You miss him so much and it has become harder and harder to ignore these feelings. You have tried making yourself believe that this happened for the best of the two of you but it’s slowly getting tougher to swallow.

You and Rafe had been dating for years before that night happened, it still hurt to think of him.

You believe you’ve cried everything you could. Your body is now completely dehydrated and no tears are being created. In which you can’t help but thank with your now zombie-like mood.

“I’m going to get us a coffee, do you want anything else?” Sarah, your best friend, who is sitting next to you, asks.

You shake your head and she gives you a small smile. You stare back at the screen of your laptop, in hopes to finish what you were previously doing for school, and try to ignore all the sound around you.

You whisper the words you were reading to yourself, trying to make them make sense, but your peaceful silence is broken by a group of guys walking in the café. You sigh annoyed while staring at the screen, wanting to throw something at their loud mouths. But decide otherwise.

“Hey, Sarah. Haven’t seen you in a while” One of the guy says and you lift your eyes to where Sarah is standing.

Sarah smiles at Topper and starts a conversation as soon as she does it. You look away from them and look at the other person standing beside him, Rafe. He’s looking around himself, eyeing the inside of the café that he has never seen before. 

You force yourself to look away and lean back on the couch that you’re siting, trying to pay attention to something else other than him as your chest gets heavier and heavier by each second that passes.

Sarah says a little goodbye to Topper and ignores her brother’s presence before walking towards you. Rafe fakes trying to trip Sarah and she sends him a glare, which just made all the boys laugh. 

His eyes follow his sister and his smile falls at the sight of you staring at the screen of your laptop. You look up at Sarah as she hands you your drink and laugh at something she says.

He pleads, in his mind, for you to look up at him but you don’t do it. You’re too distracted with whatever his sister is saying to you. And only God knows that might be.

“Yo, Rafe. Can you please come back to Earth for a second?” Topper asks, making his best friend snap out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, what, sorry?”

(...)

“I promise it will be cool” Sarah insists, “We can spend the night watching movies and eating junk food”

“How is going to my ex boyfriend’s house going to help me move on or even feel better?” You ask as she lays comfortably in your bed.

“He’s never home at Friday’s!” She exclaims, “We’ll have the house to ourselves the whole night. It’s way better than staying here, where you need to have your door open because of your parents... Seriously, when are they going to trust you enough to close the door?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“Ah! Made you laugh!”

You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to your book.

“Now, can you please agree on coming over to my house? It will be so cool, I already have so many movies in mind. Oh! And soooo many snacks”

You think for a few seconds in silence.

“Please” She whispers into the air, looking at the ceiling, “You will have so much fuuun”

As Sarah is done singing her words, a smile fills your lips again and you sigh.

“Fine. But just tonight”

(...)

If Sarah could describe out loud what she’s feeling, she would have to do a whole essay. Because...

Why the fuck is Rafe still home at this time of day? Isn’t he supposed to be in a party?

The thing is, you’re almost getting to her house. Just like you had planned. There’s snacks on top of Sarah’s bed, the chosen movie is already paused at her bedroom tv and the pizza is also on its way.

Her 19 year old brother is the one fucking it all up. 

You’re supposed to come into her home to forget about him, and be calm and relaxed. And now, she feels like wherever she looks, Rafe’s there.

“Weren’t you supposed to be at a party today?” Sarah finally asks.

Rafe looks up from his phone, still leaning back on the kitchen counter, not even knowing that she had been glaring at him this whole time.

“Yeah, but I decided not to go” He answers with a shrug.

“Won’t that make you a bad friend?”

She’s using every play in the book now. She needs him gone for at least the whole night.

Rafe chuckles at his sister’s words and looks at her confused.

“No?”

Sarah sighs and walks over to the fridge when listening to his answer. Rafe follows her with his eyes as she fills a cup with water and curiosity takes over him.

“Why?”

“No reason”

“Bullshit”

Sarah rolls her eyes at his stubbornness and looks back before staring back at him.

“I wanted the whole house for myself and my friend, is that too much to ask?”

Rafe laughs.

“Since when am I such a bother to your little sleepovers? You never leave your room anyway”

Sarah opens her mouth to answer but the ringing of the doorbell stops her from doing so. Rafe lifts his eyebrows as if in surprise when seeing her reaction and lowers his eyes back to his phone.

Sarah glares at her brother when noticing that he isn’t planning on leaving the kitchen any soon and turns on her heels to go to the front door. 

As she walks closer to the door, she smiles at you through the glass and opens it.

“Hi!” She says excitingly, “Are you ready for the night of your life?”

You smile at her, “Sure”.

Sarah steps to the side to let you in the house, and you wait for her to start walking towards her room so you can follow her.

As you pass the kitchen doorway, you can’t help but look inside. You’re used to looking in and seeing Rose doing something, but this time, it isn’t Rose. It’s Rafe.

Air gets caught in your throat and you look away as quickly as you can. Rafe stays on his phone innocently, not even acknowledging who just came into his house.

Should you say something to Sarah? Does she not know that he’s in the house too?

You and Sarah get to her room rather quickly and she closes the door right behind you two as you walk in.

She’s quick to lay in her bed and open the covers for you, and you can’t help but grin at her as she opens one bag of chips right away.

“You ready?” She asks before pressing the play and you nod, “Let’s go”

Sarah presses the play and the sound of the universal studios entrance fills the silent room. You bring the covers closer to you and Sarah hands you the bag of chips just so you can take some of them.

And...

Not even halfway through the movie, Sarah highly regrets watching the movie while laying down because she’s out like a light.

You stare at the TV in silence, grinning slightly at Sarah’s slight snores as the main characters talk about their feelings in the TV.

But your mind is occupied with something else. You’re not paying much attention to the movie anymore. The plot stopped being of your interested when you noticed that Sarah had chosen the movie purely because of the cast.

Understandable, we’ve all done it. But romance movies are not a good choice when you’re trying to forget your failed relationship.

Already tired with your thoughts, you stand on your feet, away from the bed and drag yourself out of the bedroom.

Rafe must be in his party, now, since that was what Sarah said when you questioned his presence in the kitchen.

You walk down the stairs of the empty and silent house and drag your warm feet over the cold ground towards the kitchen.

As you grab a cup from the shelf above you, you almost groan at all the memories that hit you at once.

All the times that you and Rafe made breakfast on his days off classes, eating cheap fluffy pancakes until you felt sick with just the idea of drinking water. Or when you helped him through a big hangover after a big party.

The second memory hits you like a tone of bricks. 

Those mornings and the nights before, after the parties, were the reason of your breakup. You couldn’t stand to see Rafe kill himself with all the alcohol almost every night and the various drugs that his friends could get a hold of each month.

You walk towards the fridge, chest heavy with heartbreak, and fill your cup with cold water. The feeling of the freezing temperature over your fingertips wakes you up back to reality.

You hear steps in the hallway, right outside of the kitchen, and you don’t think much of it as it might be Sarah.

The door swings open and your eyes widen slightly at the sight of Rafe. His hair a complete mess, his eyes hold a sleepless look, and his clothes are slightly scrunched up. He looks like he’s had a rough night.

You don’t say anything, looking away as he looks at you. He clears his throat as if to fill the silence in the air and walks towards the shelf, grabbing a glass cup. 

He didn’t know you were the one sleeping over.

He doesn’t look at you or says anything. 

You can’t help but think in all this silence how much you want to run home, right now. You love Sarah but you can’t stay here any longer.

Your feet don’t move from under you and you’re left to stare at the floor as Rafe fills his cup with water as well. 

Both of you silent, fearing to break the peaceful absence of sound as your minds fill with all the good memories and the possible beginnings of conversation.

You finish your water and walk towards the sink to leave the cup beside it. Rafe’s eyes stay on you as you do it, but you don’t care to look up before walking out of the kitchen.

“Shit” Rafe whispers to himself as he hears your footsteps getting further away from the doorway.

You walk in the living room, not wanting to go back to bed, and make your way towards the glass sliding doors that lead to the porch.

The warm air of the last summer night hits you and you walk out, leaving the door slightly open. You walk towards the railing of the porch and lean against it, watching the calm waters under the dim lighting coming from the house.

You sigh as you rest your cheek over your fist and close your eyes to try and concentrate on your breathing other than your feelings.

The door behind you slides slightly but you don’t care to look back to see who it is. But that is until, it slides closed and someone stands right beside you.

“I wanted to talk to you” Rafe says.

You take a quick look at him before staring away into the grass of the garden right in front of you.

“About?” You ask in a whisper as he doesn’t say anything else.

“I don’t know” He answers with a shrug and you frown in confusion, “I just wanted to talk to you”

He really likes making everything worse for you, uh?

“We’re not supposed to be in talking terms,” You answer, “Not after our last conversation”

“I know”

You look down at your hands and play with your fingers as a way to fight out your emotions.

“I’ve- Uhm...” Rafe starts but pauses. You look up at him and see him scratching the back of his neck while staring at the ground.

“You’ve what?” You encourage.

“I’ve been clean for a week” He admits and looks down at you.

You look away and do a very small smile, rather fake, while staring at the grass once again.

“Hope it lasts” You say before biting your cheek.

“Me too”

Silence, again.

“I’m... I’m sorry for not listening to you before. About the addiction, I mean.”

You don’t say anything.

“You were right, and I was too stupid to not want to listen to you” He continues, “I’m sorry”

You look up to find him still staring. His gaze softens at the sight of you finally looking back and you give him a slight grin.

“You don’t need to say sorry. I’m sure it’s not something easy to swallow, to hear someone say that you’re addicted to something”

Rafe observes your expression twitch slightly at the mention of his addiction and his chest tightens at your saddened gaze as you sigh.

“I did it to myself” He admits with a shrug, “Just didn’t expect these many consequences to come from it”

“Like?”

The look he gives you is a good enough answer. You look away with that and he tenses up next to you.

He just screwed everything up, didn’t he?

“It happens, Rafe” You whisper, “At least it was able to motivate you into changing”

“Yeah... It was” He agrees, “I just- you know, feel like this could’ve been done in other ways”

“Of course, it could’ve” You answer bringing your shoulder up as if you’re shrugging, “This is just where our argument took us”

Rafe can’t help but disagree. It wasn’t the ‘argument’s fault’, it’s his. His words. His sick and disgustingly affected by whatever he took, words.

“Will you ever forgive me?” He blurs out, catching both you and himself by surprise.

“Forgive you?” You ask confused, “I’m not even mad at you”

“You’re not?”

“No” You say with a frown, shaking your head slightly, “I’m mad at myself more than I am at you. I could’ve helped you before you became addicted, and I-”

“You know it isn’t your fault that I’m the fuck-up that I am, right?” He asks you and you glare at him.

“Don’t call yourself that” You say, “We’ve been over this, Rafe.”

“It’s true” He says with a slightly annoyed tone, “I fuck up everything, I’m just-”

“Shut up”

He falls silent, not wanting to ruin anything further.

“You’re not a fuck up” You say, annoyed that he could even think that, “Don’t let your mistakes fucking define you, Rafe. We’ve talked about this. You’ve fucked up, yes. But who hasn’t?” You pause so that the words can sink in, “Sarah has fucked up, I’ve fucked up. Your own dad has fucked up before... I didn’t break up with you because of your mistakes”

He looks at you confused.

“I’ve broken up with you because I couldn’t bear to see you kill yourself any further while everyone fucking stared and did a whole bunch of nothing” Tears swell up in your arms, “And that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve taken your mind off your drugs to just think about what you can lose with them”

You sniffle and look away, not wanting him to see you cry.

“It was my selfish way to make you wake up, want to try and get help-” You say with your voice shaking, but he interrupts you.

“Hey” He says, “It wasn’t selfish”

“I-”

“No, you’re going to hear me, now” He interrupts, “How can you say that what you did was selfish when you were trying to help me? That makes no sense! I’m not getting help yet, but if that’s what you want me to do, I’ll call my dad right fucking now and I’ll go to a clinic tomorrow”

“Rafe” You start, turning back to look at him.

“I know I’m supposed to do this for myself and not anyone else, but fuck. I’ve been dating you for years. I love you more than I’ll ever love myself. I can’t lose you. Not over something that I did”

A sob escapes your mouth and you cover it with your hand. Rafe, with that, pulls you to his chest and wraps his arms around you.

“Just please, give me another chance” He whispers into your hair, “This time, I’ll get all the help I need. I won’t ever push you away, or put anything before me and you”

You wrap your arms tightly around his torso and sniffle into his chest.

“Okay” You whisper, “But you have to promise me that you’ll get the help as soon as possible”

You look up at him, still hugging him, and he looks down at you.

“I promise”

A faint smiles is drawn over your lips and Rafe presses a kiss onto your wet cheek, pulling you back into the tight hug.

“I’ll call my dad tomorrow” He whispers.

“And I’ll be there with you” You whisper back.

- - - - - - -

I honestly almost cried while correcting this. Am I the only one?

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron imagines #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey imagine #obx #obx netflix #rafe outer banks #outer banks #netflix outer banks

[xthunderbolt]

Right, while I try to answer all the questions you asked for, here you are 😂: 1, 4, 7, 8, 11, 15, 17, 19, 20, 21, 22, 30. Many loves to you, Thunder ❤️

I hope you're having fuuun~ 😂

1. First anime you ever watched.

Pokemon.

4. Least favourite anime character.

This is a bit hard. On one side I choose Yui from Diabolik Lovers. I don't think I'll ever see a character as stupid and annoying as her.

But then I remember how annoying the characters from bungou stray dogs anime were and I STILL cringe. I could finish Diabolik Lovers - also because there were times when Yui's idiocy reached heights so high that it became funny to watch.

But I COULD NOT finish bsd because of that amount of annoyance dazai gave me - that man; I wanted to kill that man! And the amount of times I've had atsushi's ass shoved in my face...

7. Anime you're currently watching.

Oh man. I've been trying FOR DAYS to watch svsss (that's a novel I recommend) BUT I JUST CAN'T WITH THAT ANIMATION THAT'S WORST THAN A GAME FROM THE 90s 😭😭

Like look at this WHAT. IS. THIS.

8. Anime character you're most like.

It wasn't until I started writing him that I realized how much I relate to Kuro. And hell, it's hard. I really don't know when I'll have that fic out at this rate 💀

11. Anime you didn't expect to like but did.

Rising of the Shield Hero. And if you're like me - someone whose isekai ain't really the cup of tea, I recommend it. It's really... not like the others. And the character actually has to learn to use the things from that world, has to learn to become strong and doesn't just have the magical power of the main character.

Another thing I loved about it it's that it showed the difference between poor people and rich people. It showed the discrimination and mockery, how much effort you have to put to prove yourself and how much shit you have to swallow when you're accused of things you didn't do, just because of status.

15. Anime you never get sick of watching.

TOKYO GHOUL. Kaneki's voice is also a bonus

17. Biggest anime crush.

Can't choose one. We're in an extremely huge polycule. 🤚 But there's some I like as much as I did the first time I saw them, compared to others that I barely remember the names of.

MIKA MOTHERFUCKERS

AND GAREKI

19. Favorite anime ships.

I have too many so imma just mention my current and biggest obsessions dndkdkdk.

Aside from the servamp ones yall already know there's in no particular order with gifs that practically summaries them:

Hualian (tian guan ci fu)

Mikayuu (owari no seraph)

Bingqiu (scum villain's self saving system)

20. Least favourite anime ships.

They're ships I don't pay attention to so idk jrjfkd.

21. Anime that made you cry, when

TO YOUR ETERNITY. I WISH I COULD ERASE IT FROM MY BRAIN I SWEAR NO ANIME MADE ME CRY AS MUCH AS THIS LITTLE SHIT-

It hurt so much that I've been having the manga bookmarked for a month bUT I'M SCARED TO READ IT.

22. Age you started watching anime/ person who introduced you to it.

So the thing is that I've watched pokemon when I was 4, though I didn't even know what an anime was back then. Then Naruto appeared on tv when I was like 9, though I didn't pay any mind to it because I didn't like the summary they showed.

Then I had a sleepover with my childhood best friend and she made me watch it with her and nothing was the same anymore for me.

30. One anime conclusion you would change.

No idea. I usually move on spectacularly fast 😂

#thunderask

[wildercrow]

DADWC prompt: "Void! Did I say that out loud?" for Justfenders?

Okay so, funny story, you and @hollyand-writes both sent me this EXACT same prompt and I was so amused that I bumped it up the priority list because clearly, what the people desire is Anders making a complete fool of himself, and I am happy to oblige.

For @dadrunkwriting

~*~*~

Rating: Mature Characters: Fenris, Anders, Justice Relationships: Fenris/Justice, pre-Fenris/Justice/Anders Genre: Fluff Content Warnings: Mild sexual themes (no actual sex occurs), Strong language AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34368964/chapters/86305477

~*~*~

“Yes!” Anders blurts out, apropos of nothing. “I know! His ears are pretty and covered in lyrium and you want to kiss them! Can we go back to planning now?”

“Excuse me?” Fenris blinks in confusion. They’d been sitting silently side-by-side in the living room for a the past hour or two, Fenris reading and Anders working on logistics for the new clinic he and Justice are hoping to open up… eventually.

“Void!” Anders claps his hands over his mouth, a panicked look in his eyes. “Did I say that out loud?”

“Yes. Very loud.”

Anders looks horrified, “I… Justice… we… shit.”

Fenris just laughs, “I take it Justice has been talking to you about my ears?”

Anders flashes him a sheepish grin, “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Fenris assures him. Or… assures them both, really. “I’m… flattered. I don’t get a lot of compliments on my ears.”

“I just feel like I made things awkward,” Anders chuckles nervously. “Weird timing and all that.”

“How so?” Fenris asks. “It’s not like either of us is doing anything urgent. There’s no reason we can’t take a break.”

Anders looks deep in thought for a long moment. Fenris assumes he’s consulting with Justice. Finally, he speaks up, “Okay so uh, Justice is on board with a smooch break if you are?”

Fenris smirks, “I am.”

“Okay, have fuuun,” Anders chuckles, then relinquishes control of his body over to Justice, who immediately reaches out to reverently cup Fenris’ jaw in his hands, caressing his thumbs over his cheeks and staring at him with an almost uncomfortable intensity.

“Hello Justice,” Fenris says, doing his best to push down the wisp of anxiety rising in his chest. “I hear you like my ears.”

“Yes,” Justice confirms, still staring into his soul with those glowing blue eyes, “They are… magnificent.”

“I’m flattered,” Fenris forces a smile, involuntarily leaning back a bit, “but I need you to turn down the intensity of that stare by about 50% before we do anything, because right now you are staring into the depths of my soul and it’s… very uncomfortable.”

“My apologies,” Justice averts his gaze slightly.

“Thank you,” Fenris takes a few deep breaths to quell his nerves. “Now, what’s all this about kissing my ears?”

“May I?” Justice asks.

“Go ahead,” Fenris says, a more genuine smile growing on his face.

Justice smiles and gently pulls Fenris’ face towards him, leaning forward to press a few soft kisses to his cheek, then moves one hand into Fenris’ hair and the other to his side before pressing a reverent kiss to the base of his ear. His breath tickles Fenris’ ear slightly, but it’s… good. It feels good. He moves on to press kisses along the upper edge of Fenris’ ear, opening his mouth a bit more with each kiss until finally he reaches the tip and engulfs it in his mouth, running his tongue over it before releasing it.

An electric feeling shoots down Fenris’ spine – he’s never had anyone kiss his ears before. It’s a sensation untainted by bad memories and he relishes it. He lets Justice know with a little hum of pleasure.

“Do you enjoy this?” Justice checks, pulling back enough that he can see Fenris’ expression.

“Quite a lot, as it turns out,” Fenris confirms with a smile.

“Then I shall continue,” the spirit says before leaning back in to mouth and lap at the lower edge of Fenris’ ear. By the time Justice maneuvers over to his other ear, Fenris feels like he’s floating on clouds. Electrified clouds that keep shooting lightning in the direction of his groin.

About halfway through the second ear, Fenris laughs and pulls away from Justice’s mouth, “If we do this much longer, this is going to turn into much more than a quick break, and I don’t think I’m quite ready for that. But… thank you. I enjoyed this.”

“As did I,” says Justice, backing off as requested. “I would love to spend more time with you, if you are amenable. Perhaps I could work on clinic logistics beside you in Anders’ stead for a while?”

“I am quite amenable to that,” Fenris chuckles, illustrating his point by laying down on the couch and sprawling his legs across Justice’s lap before picking his book back up. “Stay as long as you’d like.”

The spirit picks up his and Anders’ pile of papers from the coffee table and sets them atop Fenris’ legs, “I would be honored to.”

#fenris #justice #anders #justfenders #dragon age fic #da drunk writing circle #nuri writes

[nefelibatastudy]

May 29, 2021 | the day where i’m daydreaming living in a country side where i can take my own kind of adventure 🎒

three days since the finals is done and now i can have my summer vacation, though there are still three minor classess that we have to take but it’s okay, atleast i’ll have a chance to inquire on taking advance classess and there might be a possibility that i’ll take some advance classess, but who knows? all i want really is to enjoy my free days with books, movies, tv shows, and embroidery! (i just started embroidery actually, and all i can say is i’m having soo much fuuun!) anyways, i also started to fis my sleeping schedule, and i’m fully dedicated to it because it’s really rewarding to sleep early and wake up early, in that way you got a lot of things done. as much as possible, i’m cutting my caffeine intake in just one cup as much as possible.

anyways, hope everyone will have a peaceful day where they got to daydream about things that they want to do. 🧚🏼‍♀️

#prsnl #studyblr #hipsternefelibata #studyinspo #journaling #aesthetic #academia #light academia #art journaling #photography #bookaddict #booksbooksbooks #book blog #bookish #bookworm #study inspiration #art study #study desk #study hard #studystudystudy #studyspiration

[bts-reveries]

waste it on me | part 13 (text below images)

bold: yn

italicized: miya

[normal text]: description

~facetime conversation~ 

i can’t believe you two were able to keep this secret!! when did he ask you out? [you questioned, getting comfortable on your pillow]

uhh, he didn’t really ask me out-- [miya said sheepishly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, fiddling with her stuffed cat]

YOU ASKED HIM OUT?? [you yelled in surprise, it wasn’t like miya to be this bold]

no [she laughs], we kinda just went for it

you just went for it? how does that happen

well we bumped into each other when i was getting my sister and i drinks at starbucks, and then we ended up staying there just talking for an hour-- and it wasn’t like normal talking! well.. we were talking normally to each other, but like.. not like we usually do you know? like he got shy and told me i looked pretty that day and i turned red and then he made fun of me-- but his ears were red! so he was shy too, so i started making fun of him and then we just laughed it off and then we left and went on a little date. it was pretty cute [she explained with her hands, fiddling with her fingers as she ended her little story]

what happened to miyeon’s drink [you ask with confusion, your eyebrows knitting together]

oh about that... taehyung drank it and so in the middle of our date we went through drive thru and got her a new drink [she scratches her head]

where’d you guys go for your date?

we went to a karaoke room, it was so much fun, i can barely sing, but his voice. ugh. he serenaded me with my favorite songs, listening to them now is so different and makes me feel all warm inside [she covers her face with her hands]

ugh you two are so cute, i’m so happy for you two. but now i’m an official third wheel, fuuun [you shake your hands in a sarcastic way]

what do you mean! no way, how about you? what happened with jungkook?

oh akferjknjr it was... normal surprisingly. the movie was about to start so then the lights started going down right? then a black figure ran up the stairs and was about to sit next to me and when i looked up it was him and he looked so scared and he tried going to a different seat, but it was the last seat left so i told him to sit down. he hesitated at first but then he eventually sat down and i offered him popcorn [you nod your head]

well he’s warming up to you, that’s good! did you two talk after that?

umm hello? the movie started, why would i talk, that’s rude!

okay okay, then when did you two talk?

after the movie. i was going on an on about how i loved ponyo so much and that i was craving noodles and ham after watching that one scene, you know that scene right?

yes, of course i know that scene [she slightly rolls her eyes, nodding her head]

well, i wasn’t really talking to anyone in particular, just looking straight ahead, and namjoon wasn’t even paying attention to me! he was just on his phone so jungkook responded to me instead

aww what’d he say?

“so nothing changed huh? still your favorite?” I SCREAMED-- internally of course.

aww he remembers?? [she covers her mouth]

i guess so~ then we just started talking and i was telling him if he’d like to go get noodles sometimes, as friends you know? and he said yes. i kinda screamed internally again [you smirked a little]

omg yay!!! that’s great news [miya couldn’t help but smile so big]

it is, i didn’t get his number though... it slipped my mind completely [you pout]

why not ask namjoon? he can ask yoongi, i’m sure he’ll give it to you

true, okay, i’ll text him later [you look off to the side]

did anything else happen?

we got kicked out... of the room, we didn’t notice how much time went by because we were just talking about random things.

like what?

well it was still about the movie, i don’t know why, but the image of ponyo transforming back into a little girl popped into my head and i couldn’t stop laughing, it was embarrassing... he was so confused and he was like ‘what’ and i was like nothing but i coULDN’T STOP LAUGHING IT WAS SO EMBARRASSING [you squished your face in embarrassment]

did you explain it to him at least??

well yeah, but throughout my explanation i still couldn’t stop laughing so i had to show him a picture.

wait is that the picture of jungkook that you showed us?

yeah! that was when he was looking at the picture i was talking about and he couldn’t stop laughing afterwards [you couldn’t help but smile, remembering how cute he looked when he was laughing, the first time in 10 years that you saw that bunny smile again]

wait wait wait wait is it when she looked like a chicken?? [she says in realization]

YES OMG ISN’T IT HILARIOUS

YES I LOVED THAT, SHE LOOKED LIKE THIS [she frowned, her mouth forming the perfect upside down ‘u’]

YES [you laughed]

wait hold on... where was namjoon throughout all this? [miya asks, remembering that he’s who she came with in the first place]

on his phone right next to me, i saw him roll his eyes when i asked jungkook about the noodle thing and he mouthed ‘third wheel’ at me [you say as you scratch the back of your neck]

wow we really need to get him someone

i don’t know anyone else though, do you?

no, no i don’t [miya thinks]

aww man, i don’t want him to be lonely

date him then

oh no, no, no [your eyes grew wide and shaking your head no]

he’s a great guy, he’ll find someone

yeah.. but anyways, i shouldn’t get my hopes up with jungkook, we’re just friends-- almost.. friends

yeah, you like him though, right?

i guess? i mean, i think so, i’m pretty sure i do-- but right now i just want to be friends

okay, well baby steps then

yes, baby steps-- speaking of babies, when are you and tae going to get married so you can have babies? i want to be an aunt soon

hold your horses yn, it’s been three dates, go tell that to my sister [she says with fear in her eyes]

YOU’RE RIGHT, it’s about time those two get married [it just came to you that they’ve been together for more than a decade already]

i know right, they’ve been together longer than i’ve known you-- oop, taehyung is texting me, hold on-- [miya’s camera went on pause as she read tae’s text]

what’d he say?

mmmm... he just told jin, he’s happy, but surprised that none of us told him, especially my sister-- oh-- oh i guess they’re both coming over now [she said with slight panic in her voice, not expecting them to come over this late in the evening]

oH? well, i guess these are the perks of sisters dating brothers.

i guess so

well anyways, you can call me or text me later, i don’t want to bother you and your boyfriend 

nOT my boyfriend... yet-- he hasn’t asked

well it’s a given, now go get ready! text me what happens 

okay okay, i’ll see you later then

~end~

You sigh, putting your phone down and getting comfortable on your bed, looking up at the ceiling and just thinking.

beep beep

You grab your phone, looking at the text you just received, frowning at the text you just got from an unknown number. Still, you replied, getting a response almost instantly, making your eyes widen.

waste it on me

☞part 13: who is this☜

→ pairings: jeon jungkook x reader

→ a/n: not too fond of how i did this one, felt like i could’ve done better :((

→ taglist:

@kookiemonstersugatea @lylanie12 @crazyferalvigilantedragonwriter @serious-addiction @zamasus-sugarbaby @cosmicdaylight @strwberry-jam @ratking101 @chiminilove @ask-blogger-miss-prussia @lyssjeon @moonlightrose19 @blueberrykenn @jungmanor @forkpops @nochujjk97 @bldvnbln @hplsmoon @kirbykook @girl-with-luvvv @vantaexx @ephyra1230 @girlwiththeglittereyeliner @akirathao @catspancake @kawaii-desv @strapsforyoonie @dammit-jjk @to-onystark @butterflylion @apollukee @xionysus @ilyluuna @uglyratlmao @iridescentplethora @monosomes @tomowasu @taekookcaneatme @mayumioutloud @rjsmochii @super-btstrash-posts @hellotherehoneybee @betysotelo18 @moon6rop @kxk-soul @honeycutelove @cchristinnaa @io-is-lame @shadowstark @goldenchemistry @incredibleella @sope-and-shine

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!

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#bts-reveries #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts smau #bts social media au #bts au #bts #bts x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jungkook smau #jungkook social media au #jin smau #hoseok smau #namjoon smau #taehyung smau #yoongi smau #jimin smau