#Bottle-Free Water Coolers

[macroglossus]

took the entire month of august, two and a half bags of gf flour (over thirty dollars. of flour), about five accidental attempts at mass familial poisoning (kept making treats with the discard blissfully unaware that it wasn't actually colonized by yeast yet at all but by other less yummy bacteria [which is why the entire concoction smelled evil]), and several days of cosleeping with the jar (somehow miraculously didn't spill all over the couch/crush it) but my sourdough starter is FINALLY off the ground and healthy and making genuinely sour ass yummy bread. took four times the amount of time and significantly more resources than i expected but i put a little pink bow on her and she's so cute now that i forgive her

[teddybeartoji]

going to the beach with toji and kids for the first time ever. it's only the beginning of your relationship, it's all kind of new – toji doesn't know what's about to hit him. sure, he's seen you with megumi and tsumiki before, but this? this is something else.

not only is his heart doing flips at the sight of the big smiles and the loud bursts of laughter you're managing to pull out of his kids, you're also wearing a fucking bikini. he hasn't seen this much of you before – the furthest you've gone during the late hours of the nights are steamy, handsy makeouts. he did take your shirt off the last time he had you below him but then you were interrupted by the little spiky haired boy, sniffling about a bad dream. after grabbing a blanket to cover you up, toji rested his forehead against your warm skin, grumbling something under his breath before looking up at you with soft eyes. you weren't mad – quite the opposite; you ruffled his hair and cradled his face, a gentle smile splayed on your lips. you pressed a haste kiss to his nose and then ushered him off of you, whispering something about his adorable son. toji scoffed. and smiled to himself.

the bikini. is killing him. he doesn't know what to do with himself. the scene playing in front of him is heart-warming and he should only be thinking about that, but how can he? the material is barely covering anything and you just look so... fucking good.

sitting in the shade, toji let's his head loll back, his eyes closing as he rests his hand over his face with a groan. he can't do it anymore. he's doing brain exercises to not pop the hardest boner of his life and you are not making it any easier when you keep giving him the prettiest smiles. you're happy, the kids are happy – everything should be good, but no – here he is, suffering because his parter looks fucking amazing. the fact that this is even a problem is mind-baffling to him. he is a strong man, no person is going to get to him just by being beauti—

"could you pass me the water, please?"

you're out to get him, he's sure of it.

toji peeks from under his hand and he's immediately blinded by a devil in disguise. the sun shines from behind you like a halo and the grin on your lips reaches behind your ears. sweat coats your skin and it makes toji's mouth salivate. what the fuck are you doing to him? hands on your hips, you stare down at your boyfriend and you give him another second to collect himself before quirking up a brow.

"toji?" you sound like a siren, you're pulling him in with your silky smooth tone. "the water, please?"

the corners of your eyes crinkle as you smile and toji has never moved faster in his entire life. "right."

he reaches for the bottle in the cooler beside him and gives it to you while making sure to look at you in the eyes and nowhere else. it's unbelievably hard – especially when the water starts trickling from the corners of your mouth and down your neck. toji gulps before turning to look at his kids instead. gumi's brows are furrowed as he's building his sandcastle while miki is busy building hers. toji cracks a grin.

"they're so– fucking cute." you whisper when you curse, a playful smile on your lips as you gush about the kids.

you love them so much already and you're glad that they seem to be liking you a lot too. that makes toji very happy; when the kids ask about you when they haven't seen you in a few days, when you do the same – he knows you really might be the one. it's a big thing to say, to even think, but he can't help it. it simply seems... right.

the water bottle hangs in front of his face and he's pulled away from his thoughts again. he goes to grab it and when he does, your free hand reaches out to him. warm finger wrap around his wrist and he melts at the soft, gentle touch. "come play with us."

a groan bubbles from his throat but it couldn't be any further from an annoyed one – you're sweet and you're excited, you're pretty and you're patient; you always welcome him and the kids with open arms and a bright smile. she would've loved you.

he throws the bottle aside and wraps his own hand around your own. "ya wanna play or the kids wanna play?"

his raspy voice and the stupidly handsome smirk he gives you make butterflies bloom and dance in your stomach. he makes you giddy, he makes you happy.

"i wanna play." you tug at him. "and the kids wanna play."

he can't say no to his little blessings and he can't say no to you. maybe running around will help clear his mind from the mischievious thoughts in his head. he doubts it, but he's needs to try.

in one swift move, he pulls your hand to his mouth while pretending to bite you and his eyes fucking twinkle when he sees your cute surprised expression and hears your little gasp. there's a moment, a second of the most comfortable silence before the corners of your lips twitch and you yank away from his hold, booking it towards gumi and miki with a loud cackle as toji pushes off the chair and takes off after you with fast steps.

your cheeks hurt from laughing as you watch toji catch megumi; he lifts gumi up with just one hand while tsumiki tries to poke her dad in the ribs in order for him to let boy go. when he finally lets the kids go... you feel his eyes on you. adrenaline pumps in your veins and you feel like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. you can't stop grinning. he can't either. a pair of arms wrap around your middle and your feet are being lifted up above the ground before you can even react.

while the kids are doubled over, running and stumbling over their own feet, toji growls in your ear. "gotcha."

you will take the next step today. no snotty kid of his will cockblock him again – they will be tired from the day and you will be all his to take care of. he'll show you his appreciation for being so good to him and the kids, for being so kind. and so... fucking hot.

he presses a kiss to your jaw but cringes when gumi and miki dramatically scream 'ew' at him. you feel him getting even warmer, his cheeks heating up and you try to save him by shooing the kids with a laugh. toji is grateful. he's happy that you're here.

[mariasont]

Spoiled - A.H

a/n: felt feral writing this hope y'all enjoy it as much as i did

think im ovulating or something YALL IDK

anyhow happy reading let me know what yall think 🤭

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which hotch overhears your conversation with penelope and decides to do something about it

warnings: 18+ MDNI, phone sex!, sex toy!, fem solo masturbation, penelope being a little instigator lmao, dirty talk, soft dom!hotch, established relationship, honestly a little bit of angst whoops, reader is slightly dramatic like hotch has been gone for prob 5 hours STAND UP!

wc: 3.3k

"Penelope Grace Garcia!"

Her comment earned her the full government name, igniting a burst of laughter that you attempt to smother behind your hand. Sinking deeper into the couch, you dismiss the absurdity with a shake of your head. You even find yourself glancing over your shoulder even though you know no one is home.

"You know, I really shouldn't be telling you this, but trust me, that's the least of our worries in this relationship."

"Look, whatever floats your love boat or rocks your bed frame is strictly your business," she comments as if that were the most casual thing to say.

You giggle, a warmth spreading through you as you tread across the kitchen tiles, the phone pressed against your ear. 

"Oh my god, Pen," you let out a laugh, feeling a soft crimson spread across your cheeks, while your thighs swell with the thoughts of your doting boyfriend. "No, no, like I said we're more than okay in that department. It just gets, well, lonely when he's away."

Your hand curls around the neck of your favorite bottle of red, easing the cork free with a satisfying pop. The liquid swirls into the glass, a little more than probably necessary, as the gentle hiss of water beginning to simmer breaks through the kitchen. 

"You, my dear, are a saint among mortals."

"Well, he makes it easy," you shrug, pouring the rice into the bubbling pot, a cloud of steam rising to paint the windows.

"Honestly, I don't know how you manage. I'd be itching for it, especially if it's as good as you say," Penelope admits with a dramatic sigh.

You laugh, propping the phone against the backsplash, its speaker projecting the conversation into the room. Aaron stands just out of sight, unnoticed, taking in your every syllable.

"When he gets back, trust me, every second apart seems like a small price to pay."

"Ever thought about getting yourself a toy? You know, for those long nights?" Penelope hints not (at all) so slyly. 

The wine almost sprays from your mouth as you stifle a surprised splutter. Aaron, still unseen, raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, um, no, I haven't really considered... a toy," you murmur, cheeks burning. You clear your throat, pretending to be engrossed in the simmering pot. "Aaron might have an opinion on that, I guess."

Your attempt at nonchalance was failing, you definitely knew that.

Aaron rested casually against the door frame, a soft smile touching his lips at the sound of your bashful laughter. He'd always had a soft spot for the way your cheeks bloom with color--a sight he wasn't afraid to go great lengths to witness. The idea of a toy seemed to pique his curiosity, drawing a pensive frown as his attention stayed fixed on you for a moment longer.

He slips away silently, his steps carrying him to the front door as you continue your conversation with Penelope.

The call disconnects with a soft click, and you're left in the quiet of the kitchen, unwittingly promising to keep Penelope updated. Turning back to the stove, you stir the sauce with a distracted hand, your lips downturned. Aaron should have been home by now.

The dining table is set, candles flickering, their glow falling on the chair he's yet to fill. You let out a sigh, stealing another look at the ticking clock. The food is ready, but with each passing minute, it grows cooler, just the unfamiliar feeling of disappointment settling in your chest. 

The audible twist of the key catches your attention, and you can't help but glance over your shoulder. Aaron walks in, his lips curving into a smile upon seeing you.

"Hi, my gorgeous girl," he greets, his voice a familiar sound that kindles a familiar flutter into your heart.

He places his briefcase down, the sound muted, and as he approaches, his lips brush a tender kiss against your temple. The annoyance that had been bubbling inside you melts away with his touch. Damn him.

You turn to him, a sheepish "Hi" fluttering out, your cheeks tinged with heat. It's a feeling that's always fresh, the way he still makes you feel like you're back in high school, hearts doodled in the margins of your notebook.

Aaron settles into his chair, the soft scrape of wood against the tile following his movements.

"Sorry 'M late," he offers, his tone warm, appreciative. "Everything looks and smells wonderful, honey. Thank you."

His fingers gently sweep a loose strand of hair from your face, his smile softening you, disarming you. He's so beautiful.

"You're welcome," you reply, your cheeks growing warmer with each word. "And, um, I hope it's okay. It might be a bit cold. I thought...I guess I assumed you'd be home sooner."

You voice trails off, leaving behind a trail of embarrassed concern, wondering if perhaps you'd somehow overstepped. 

Aaron looks at you, his eyes turning kind as he discerns the unease on your face.

"I'm sorry, baby, got held up with a little errand." He bites into the food, and a gratified hum indicates his approval. "This is delicious."

You find yourself beaming at the praise. He had a talent for that--praising you, almost as if he'd made it his life mission. This was a first for you in a relationship, and it's exactly why the late nights and time spent alone didn't weigh so heavily. 

After dinner, you're rinsing off the plates when Aaron's hands draw you close, his hands claiming your waist, the heat of his palms radiating through the fabric of your shirt. He plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

"Let me help with that. You're spoiling me," he insists, his words spoken into your damp skin.

You lean back into his embrace, his chest flush against your back.

"I like taking care of you," you admit, heart skipping a beat under the weight of his gaze, the softness in his eyes dissolving your concentration on the task at hand. 

A deep, affectionate groan escapes Aaron as he pulls you even closer. But all good things come to an end, and the ringing of his phone seems like an icy intrusion, like a sudden draft into the kitchen.

"Hotchner," he answers, and even though the word leaves his lips, his fingers gently sketch patterns across your hip. 

You feel your heart sink. When he hangs up, his eyes lock with yours, brimming with an apology he doesn't voice. It's unnecessary, you already know.

"A case?" You hate how small your voice sounds, dipped in an understanding you wish you didn't have.

He nods, a simple stupid gesture that sends a lump of disappointment soaring up your throat, which you desperately try to swallow down. 

"Okay... just, be careful, okay? I'll miss you."

"And I'll miss you, angel. Be good for me."

There's a hollowness in the house that follows you through each room. You were well aware of Aaron's demanding job when you started dating--the unpredictable schedule, the sudden departures, the cases that required his immediate attention. Still, this awareness did nothing to soften to sting of his absence. At all. 

You found yourself wandering aimlessly, picking up a book only to set it down unread, starting a movie but not really watching. Eventually, you ended up in the bedroom, his bedroom, where the subtle scent of his cologne lingers. It's both comforting and heart-wrenching. God, you felt like you were being so dramatic.

You climb into the bed, the sheets cool against your skin, too big and empty without him. Your eyes darts to the phone resting on the nightstand. You've always been careful not to disturb him while he's working, but tonight felt different.

With a trembling hand, you pick up the phone, your thumb hovering indecisively over the screen. Reluctantly, you returned it to its place. There was no point in bothering him.

A sudden draft sent a shiver up your spine, reminding you of the blanket Hotch had bought for you a couple months ago. You sighed, rising from the bed and moving to the closet.

But your eyes skipped over the blanket, instead fixating on a shiny pink bag tucked away in a secluded corner. Compelled by a spike of curiosity, you grabbed the bag and pulled it open. Your eyes widened, cheeks burning with a sudden flush as you placed it on the bed. How long had this been hiding here? And the timing--just after your conversation with Penelope--felt almost too uncanny. 

You went back to your phone.

Hi

The message was simple. You hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

Almost immediately, your phone vibrated--Aaron's name illuminated the screen. You answer, and his voice was there, infused with immediate concern.

"Hi honey. You okay?" His question was straightforward, cutting through the noise.

You nodded, forgetting for a moment he couldn't see you. Shifting on the bed, you said softly, "Um, yeah, I'm fine. I didn't mean to bother you. Is it a bad time?"

His response is quick. "You could never bother me."

A blush flares on your cheeks, and a smile instinctively forms. You fidget on the bed, the sheets sighing with your movements, sounds that don't escape Aaron's attentive detection.

"Can't seem to find the right spot without me there, huh?"

"I can't seem to do a lot of things without you here," you grumble under your breath, intended more for yourself than for him. The bed emits a soft creak as you turn again, your breath hitching in a pout that he can almost see through the phone. "Aaron, I found something in the closet..."

You lost your words, fingertips tracing the toy's edge, as you fumbled with the strings of your shorts.

"Hmm? Care to enlighten me."

"You know."

You weren't in the mood for his teasing, because you knew he knew. You could sense his smugness, his voice dripping into that familiar, velvety register that prompted your lips to purse.

"I don't know, sweetheart."

Once again, you found yourself stirring against the linen, nibbling on your lip as a wave of exasperation washed over you, your eyes rolling into their sockets.

"Where are you?"

"Just got to my hotel room." You could hear the subtle movements in the background, accompanied by the soft groans of the mattress under his weight. "What did you find in the closet that was so urgent you needed to text me in the middle of my case?"

Your face was warm. "You said it wasn't a bother."

"And I meant it, now spell it out for me."

Your hands cautiously pushed over the toy, examining its buttons and sides. Subconsciously, your tongue swept over your top teeth. You lowered your voice as though someone else might overhear.

"The toy...is it for me? I mean, I would hope so. If not, well, we'd have a rather awkward issue."

"Yes, it's for you, baby."

You stifled a grin. How could he have known? That profiling business was really no joke.

"Why?"

His muffled chuckle filtered through, and you could almost see the flash of his pearly whites. You really missed him, so much so that you were conjuring vision of his mouth of his on places that should not be said aloud. 

"I just want to make sure my best girl is taken care of when I'm not home." You could practically hear the smirk on his lips.

You were deep in your fantasy now, your free hand sliding down your shorts as you envisioned him propped against the headboard of his hotel bed, tie hanging loosely, hair tousled just so.

"I'm always taken care of by you, Aaron," you said quietly.

You didn't know how to go about this, whatever this even was. You were treading into unknown territory; never having had phone sex with Aaron--or anyone for that matter.  It was a far cry from the occasional suggestive text.

"That's right." His voice flowed like honey in your ear, causing a shiver as your finger skimmed over your underwear, your breathing momentarily faltering. "You're going to be well taken care of for the rest of your life, yeah?"

"Yeah."

You could hardly breathe, squirming against your own touch, glancing over at the toy that sat beside your hip.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your patience. You're a good girl, honey. Far too good for me." You weren't. It was the other way around; you didn't deserve him. You told yourself that every day. "I know you get lonely, and I know it's something you'd never admit to."

"Aaron..."

He didn't let you finish. "Why don't you tell me what you're doing right now?"

Your actions came to an abrupt standstill, thumb suspended above your clothed clit. You entertained the thought that this FBI gig might have been a front for a psychic, maybe one of those fortune teller types.

You were mumbling into your sleeve, a private conversation with the threads. "Just...um, well it's hardly worth mentioning, honestly."

Wow you're sure you fooled him.

"I'm not fond of dishonesty." The low rumble of his voice sent a tremor through your core. "I'm giving you a final chance. Tell me what you're doing, sweetheart."

A hard swallow passed your throat, your thumb rubbing idle circles into the band of flesh on your hip. 

"Well, I, uh, was touching myself." The words felt as awkward as they sounded, an internal wince accompanying each syllable at how unsexy you were speaking.

"Where, sweetheart?"

You exhaled sharply at the question, heavy with exasperation at his insistence on drawing this out. But the slickness between your legs was undeniable. Your hand slid back to the delicate skin between your thighs.

"Aaron, please," you breathed out so faintly it was almost inaudible.

He was playing a cruel game, and he knew it. You hardly cussed let alone talk about your lady parts so openly.

"I hope I've never given you a reason to feel judged, honey." There was a sweetness in his voice that masked his darker intentions. "Just tell me where. I want to help."

Your tongue flicked nervously across your lip, your finger dipping into the valley of your folds as you mulled over his offer. You were wet, far more than you had anticipated, practically coating your thighs in the process.

"No, 'course not," you said softly, biting back a sigh as your thumb worked slowly against your inflamed clit. "It's just, you're so far, Aaron."

"Why do you think I got you that toy?" Your gaze darted to the pink thing, resting against your hip. "I want you to use it. I'll walk you through it, just like I would in person."

You could melt. You could liquefy into nothingness on the spot. Your fingers pressed more urgently against yourself, a deep-seated wish for him to be here surfacing, knowing all the while it was a baseless hope.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"There you go, that's my girl."

You couldn't hold back the whimper that fell from your lips as you arched against the bed, fingers diving into your cunt.

"My needy girl," he repeated, his laughter resonating with a patronizing tone that oddly egged you on. "Alright, can you pick up the toy for me?"

You wedged the phone snugly between your shoulder and ear, your hand closing around the pink, curved object, scrutinizing its every detail with careful eyes.

"Okay."

It was big, not as big as Aaron, but its dimensions were nonetheless imposing. You felt your chest heave in anticipation, waiting for his instructions.

His silence was stretching your patience thin. You turned it on, and it came to life, watching as it vibrated, the soft buzz permeating the space. You let it trail over your stomach, fabric gathering as your shirt rode up. Nearing your clit, you braced, taking in a quick breath.

But that breath was released in a strangled moan as you pushed the toy firmly into your sopping hole, legs spreading expansively as a taut sensation gripped your center.

"Did I say you could use it already?" he questioned, his tongue clicking in disapproval as you strained against the device, the second prong vibrations coursing against your nub, your whole-body jerking in response.

"N-No, 'M sorry," you panted, your focus narrowing as you pushed to toy in and out, your lips rounding into an 'o'. "It feels really good, Aar."

"I'm sure it does, baby," he teased, his voice carrying a certainty that your own lacked. "Let me hear you fuck yourself with it.

You loved hearing him curse, it was rare, and usually reserved for intimate moments like this. It fueled your actions, your wrist quickening, driving the device deeper, your stomach twisting in tight knots, a loud moan escaping unrestrained, suddenly you were thankful for the distance between Aaron's house and the next.

It felt so good, and yet somehow still not comparable to how it was with Aaron. Weren't you spoiled?

"Miss you so much," you slurred, your movements stuttering as the device worked your body in ways you didn't know were possible.

"Miss you too, angel. You're doing so good."

"Can you, ah, come home, p-please?"

You weren't even sure of what you were saying, all your thoughts on chasing your high and pretending the toy was Aaron's cock. Thinking about how he'd fill you up right now, how he'd press you to the mattress, how his body would cover yours.

"Your present isn't enough?" His tone was taunting, your eyes welling with tears, clouding your vision as your hips bucked against the toy. "That's a shame, sweetheart, think maybe you've been a little spoiled. You can't have my cock all the time."

You were completely dazed, his sentences barely making their way through the fog as you'd like them to. You were crying, you think, hot and relentless tears carving a path down your face as you fucked yourself harder against the toy.

The noises coming from your pussy were obscene, soaked and squishing as you tried to respond to Aaron, but nothing but small hiccups were escaping your mouth.

"It's okay, baby, I know. You're doing so good for me. I can hear it."

Your cheeks and ears flared with a heat that spelled out your shame, but it was the least of your concerns. Your walls tightened against the device, the pressure on your clit suddenly all too much and not enough at the same time. Gasping for air, your breaths came out in uneven bursts. When you tried to call out Aaron's name, it emerged as nothing more than a choked sob.

"C-Can I? Please, need to so bad." You weren't entirely convinced you were speaking English, but Aaron understood. 

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

That was all you needed. Your cunt contracted again before vaulting over the edge, nearly losing consciousness in the process, a string of moans and half-said words pouring out of your lips.

You could hear the sound of his voice, but the words were just out of reach, not fully making sense. You felt your body twitch, and you blinked deliberately, once, twice, three times, in an effort to reconnect your body to your mind.

"You're so good, baby. So good. Miss you so much."

You pulled the toy, now soaked, from yourself, cringing at the lewd sound as you laid it beside you, making a mental note to wash the sheets later. Although if Aaron had his way that wouldn't happen.

"I miss you." You hated the way your voice betrayed ever emotion you had.

"Need you to go pee for me, sweetheart."

He sounded so soft and tired, but somehow still present. You let out a soft snicker as you curled onto your side. 

"Can't move my legs," you mumbled, the sound muffled by the way your cheek was squished into the pillow. "Need you to come carry me."

His laugh was something you wished you could bottle up. "Spoiled."

"And who's to blame for that?" You were ready for his witty retort, but it was cut short by the sudden flash of your phone. You squinted at the caller ID. "Sorry, Penelope is calling me, can I call you back in a second?"

"Course, honey. Thank her for the idea, yeah?" Your mouth fell open as you scrambled for the right words. Of course he had heard. "Also, I plan on spending a few solid hours fucking you when I get home, so I suggest you get some rest."

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[euniexenoblade]

"I'm not a girl!" - a transfem forcefem story

Hi hi hi hi, note that the premise of this is essentially an egg being cracked by an older woman, so there's a lot of he/him and "boy" useage. But stick with it please, I assure you the end is worth getting to :) also don't be mean about any weird grammar I literally wrote this in a couple of hours for free. Be nice.

----

The boy stood there against the wall holding a red solo cup, looking down at the floor, overwhelmed from alcohol and loud booming music of the party. He had watched his drunken roommate drive off with a date – his ride home was gone. He didn't know any of these people, his roommate insisted he come to this party to meet new people, and now he was all alone. Panic and anxiety swarmed his thoughts. He was drunk, he'd never been drunk before. He was fairly far from home, could he walk home like this? He doesn't know any of these people, would any help him if he asked for a ride home? He doesn't ask, though, he just stands against the wall, looking down at the floor, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone there, trying his best not to panic.

A moment of bravery, the boy looks up from the floor to scan the party to see if there was anyone that looked like they'd be approachable. To his dismay it all looked like drunken college kids talking, dancing, being obnoxious, people he felt too scared to talk to. His eyes flow from one side of the room to the other, noting nothing interesting. That is, until he sees a tall woman standing with a group of girls. Long legs under a short skirt being the first thing to catch his attention, but before long he noticed her wearing a band tee that was so tight it was straining against her chest, causing him to stare at her chest from afar. For a brief moment, he is distracted from his anxiety with drunken horniness. That is until he finally notices, she's staring back at him.

The boy freaks out. He doesn't want to offend anyone, especially drunken party goers. He decides it's finally time to head for the door across the room, but as soon as he moves towards it, he collides with some other drunken guy. His drink spills all down his clothes, the other guy getting none of the splash back. They apologize to each other, and the guy walks away leaving the boy alone in the party again. He looks down at what was once his favorite shirt, now potentially stained and ruined. He's angry he let his roommate talk him into this, he just looked like a dork and felt more out of place than he usually did.

“Are you going to clean up or are you just going to be a mess for everyone to see?” a voice whispers in his ear from behind.

He jumps around and finds the lady he had been staring at so intently greeting him with a smile. “Um, I, uh,-”

The woman grabs him by the wrist, “Bathroom's this way, silly.” She drags him to the hallway and opens a door, and pushes him in before coming in herself and locking the door. He stands there in the middle of the bathroom, staring at this woman in shock, unsure of what to say. She looks at him blankly, “What are you doing? Take your shirt off so we can try to save it.”

He gets nervous again, “I...uh...I don't really like being shirtless.”

The woman scoffs, “Such a child. You were about to cry in the middle of a party when you noticed your shirt was stained, take the damn thing off.”

Nerves or not, it's hard to say no when an older woman tells you to do something. "I wasn't going to cry," he mumbles as he pulls his shirt off. Before he can do anything with it, she snatches it from him, fills the sink with water, pulls a small cleaner bottle out from the bag she had been carrying under her arm, and starts working it into the shirt. “I know the guy that lives here. He's always throwing these stupid parties to feel cooler than he is. There's never anything interesting happening at these parties. Just drunken college losers.” He sits down on the side of the tub, letting the random woman do the work he didn't really know how to do. “That is, until I saw some pathetic perv about to cry in the middle of one.”

“Hey!” He yells without thinking, “I am not a perv!”

“Oh? Then why were you staring at my tits?”

“I, uh, um, I don't think that's, uh very pervy. I mean, Isn't it kind of normal?”

She turns around, a big smirk on her face. “Aw, someone's embarrassed about her perviness.”

He notices the pronoun she used, but decides to ignore it. “So, uh, can I have my shirt back? I don't feel well and I want to go home.”

“Sorry sweetie, it needs to go through the wash and dry. You can just go like that. This is basically a frat boy party, no one's gonna think a shirtless guy is weird.”

He considers it. “I'd rather not, even if my shirt is wet.”

She stares at him as if he said something incredibly stupid. “Ok, fine.” She grabs the bottom of her shirt with both hands and somehow pulls it free from her body, her breasts only concealed by a black lacy bra. She tosses the shirt at him, “There you go, a fresh shirt to go home in.”

“I c-can't wear this, it's a g-girl's shirt. They'll make fun of me...”

“Huh? Nothing about it is inherently girly. It's a concert shirt. And these dorks are so drunk they won't notice a thing.”

“I. Uh.” He's overheating. Overwhelmed again from the alcohol, the booming music, and a situation with a girl he's never been in before. But, above all else he's struggling with the realization that he's fully erect at the idea of wearing her clothes. “I. I. I can't. If peo-if people see-”

“Oh I see, wearing girl clothes turns you on, huh?”

His whole face turns red. Embarrassed is an understatement. He doesn't know how to respond. He's frozen.

“Aw, how cute. Strip.”

“WH-WHAT?!”

“I said strip. Take your pants and underwear off now.”

“N-N-NO! WHY WOULD I??”

“You're going to do what I tell you or I'm going to push you back into the hallway shirtless, and you can navigate what ever feelings that makes you feel.”

The boy's confused. That's not really a punishment. Anyone not wanting this situation would easily accept that. Even with being uncomfortable shirtless around people, he could deal with it to get out of a weird situation with a woman like this. But, despite that, he found himself standing up straight, unbuttoning his jeans, and pulling them and his boxers down. His body on full display for her, his cock fully erect, which he tries to hide with his hands as his face gets incredibly red again.

“Good girl.”

“I'm not a girl!” he yells back.

“Not yet, maybe.” She reaches up her skirt, and loops her fingers around the ends of her panties and slowly pulls them down. He watches her, confused and excited, and for a split second he can see from under the skirt that she has a dick. The boy looks away, pretending not to have seen.

“Aw, adorable. I'll make a girl out of you for sure.”

“I'm not a girl!”

She sticks her hand out, her black lacy panties hanging from one finger.

“Put them on.” She says.

“WH-WHAT?? NO, I can't, absolutely not!”

Her demeanor doesn't change. She just keeps looking at him with an intense stare. “Put them on, now. I will not repeat myself again.”

Once again, it's an easy situation to walk away from. He doesn't have to listen. He can grab his clothes and go. As she said, everyone's drunk, no one will likely noticed he came out of the bathroom naked. But, as before, he does as he's told. He takes the panties from her hand, and slowly slides them up his legs, his fully erect cock making the most noticeable bulge.

“Now you won't be so concerned about wearing my shirt, will you?” He doesn't reply. He's standing there in this woman's panties, feeling emasculated.

“How are you getting home?” the woman finally asks.

“I, uh, I guess I was going to walk.”

“Oh sweetheart, not in this state you aren't. I'll drive you.” Once again, he doesn't argue, he's already so embarrassed and overwhelmed he just avoids making eye contact and nods. "Now put on your clothes.”

He pulls his jeans on over the panties and puts her shirt on, noticing that it fits him remarkably well. “She was definitely wearing this to show off her boobs” he thinks to himself. Once he's dressed, she grabs his boxers and wraps the wet, cleaned shirt in them and places them in her bag. She unlocks the door and once again, grabs him by the wrist and pulls him with her. He doesn't resist, his will is beaten down too much, and a ride home sounds ideal. Just as she said, none of the drunk people even notice that he's wearing her shirt, all they notice is that she's topless now. “Haha yeah I spilled a drink!” she says, which is enough to make these people nod and ignore her. No one even notices him, or the fact he's wearing her panties. A fact that's getting his cock even harder.

The woman pulls him outside and guides him until they finally reach her car. She only finally let's go of him so he can get in the passenger seat, making him feel like a little kid being lead around. He's finally free to just sit down, something he's longed for all night, he collapses into the seat, finding such comfort in her car. She gets in the driver's seat. “So, where do you live.” He mumbles the address to her, so drunk and so comfortable that he's having a hard time staying awake. She plugs the address into her phone and seems ready to go. She turns on the car, loud music comes on as she does, overwhelming the boy again. The car doesn't move. He doesn't care though, he's barely awake. The comfortable seats feel like a new home for him to melt into. And, as he's starting to drift away to his dreamland, he jolts awake, she's rubbing his cock through his jeans.

“WH-WH-WHA”

“Aw, my sweet girl, you got so excited wearing my cute panties through that crowd of people didn't you.”

“St-stop, w-what if someone sees?!”

“Then they'll see me playing with a pervy girl.”

“I'M NOT A GI-” he couldn't finish, instead erupting into a moan as her hand went beneath his jeans and stroked him through the lacy panties. The softness of the panties felt so good on him.

“That's a good girl, quiet down and let me reward you.”

Once again, he was red. He couldn't argue with her, she knew exactly what to say to shut his brain down. She's stroking at a decent pace, he can see people going in and out of the house, but none seem to turn their gaze to the car. And even if they did look, he didn't care anymore. He was so very close to popping. He needed this. He needed to cum right here, right now. But, then the feeling stopped. He looked at her pulling her hand back, “No, please I really want to cum”

She ignores him and as he tries to ask again she pushes her fingers into his mouth. “Clean my fingers, and maybe you'll earn the right to cum.” This time he wasn't embarrassed, he was frustrated. Horribly frustrated. He needed to cum and now instead he was sucking his own precum off of this woman's fingers. But, he accepted it. He wanted to cum, and she promised he might get to. So he was willing to do as he was told.

“Good girl.” He doesn't argue this time. He knew she would just embarrass him again if he tried. Plus he wanted to cum. His silence brings a bigger smirk to her face. “Now let's get you home.”

The drive home was uneventful. She was taking her time making sure she didn't get into an accident. Eventually they arrived at his apartment complex, and he lead her to the apartment itself. He unlocked the door and walked him, she followed him in. The living room was dark, but he could tell his roommate hadn't come home yet. “Take me to your room.” And he does as told.

His room isn't very interesting. No posters or anything, not much furniture, just the bed, a dresser and a tv with some video games spread around. He could tell she was disappointed by what she found, but she didn't say anything about it. He tried to think of what to say, but he didn't know what the next move was.

“Strip down to your panties.”

But, clearly the older woman knew what the next move was. He did as told, he took her shirt off, he took his jeans off, and he stood there in the middle of his bedroom in this woman's panties, made wet by his precum. She walks over and runs one hand through the hair on the side of his head, and with her other grabs his ass, and then starts to kiss and bite him along the neck, slowly moving up his neck. Each kiss followed by a sharp bite, each one making him grow all the more restless. He lets out soft moans, surprising himself that he can sound that way.

“Such a good girl~” she whispers.

“I'm not a girl.” The boy moans.

“Oh? You're embarrassed to show your chest to a bunch of drunken men like a girl, you've got your panties incredibly wet like a girl, and right now you're moaning like a girl.”

He blushes. “N-none of those things make someone a girl.”

The woman slips her hand under the panties, grabbing his bare ass as she responds, “That's true. But doesn't it sound more fun to be a girl? What do you have to lose by embracing this part of yourself? Why not try something new?” He moans as she starts to bite him again. He has no retort. Just desire. His cock throbbing, yet tears forming in his eyes. “Please make me uh....please make me your girl.” the girl finally says.

A big smile forms on the woman's face. “Of course, sweetie.” She pushes the girl backwards onto the bed. The woman looks down on her with such a big smile as the girl adjusts herself so she'll be more comfortable on the bed, but all her movement stops as the woman gets on top of her. The woman starts by kissing her upper chest, slowly working her way to her nipples. The girl grabs her sheets and squeezes her hands into fists as the woman sucks and bites, making her moan from pleasures she never knew she could feel. The woman takes her time, sucking and biting, eventually kissing her way to the other nipple and repeating the process. Slow, biting, sucking, kissing, pleasure.

The woman starts to move on, kissing slowly down her chest, slowly down her stomach, slowly down her crotch. The woman starts to pull the panties down, just enough for her cock to pop out, and the woman takes it into her hand and puts the head into her mouth. The girl moans at the feeling of the warm mouth on her cock. With her hand, the woman starts to jerk the girl off, while lightly sucking on her and her move her mouth back and forth. The girl's eyes roll into the back of her head and she moans the biggest moan of the night. She's never felt such ecstasy before. It's intense. So intense. She needs it. She needs to finish. She needs to cum now. “Please, please, please” she moans. “I want to cum please.” She can feel it close. She knows it's soon.

And the woman pulls the girl out of her mouth. The girl is once again frustrated, “no, p-please, don't stop please...”

“Do you think you've been a good girl tonight? Why should I let you cum?”

“Please please please I'm sorry I'll be your good girl please let me cum.” She's desperate. She'll do anything. She has never felt this good before, she doesn't want it to end like this. “Please I'll do anything you want please, I'll be a good girl for you I swear.”

The woman smiles again. She pulls off her bra, revealing her giant tits for the girl to see. She pulls the girl head into her chest, face between her tits. “How do you like the tits you were so obsessed with?” The girl doesn't know what to say. They're lovely, but the pressure in her is too intense, “please, please, please” she cries while her eyes start to form tears.

The woman let's her go and stands up next to the bed. “I don't want to hear you beg. I want you to earn your right to cum. Put your mouth to good use.” The girl never considered she might be expected to do something back. This is all so new to her, she was just riding along with what the woman did. But, she didn't feel resistant to it, she just wasn't sure what to do. Sitting on her knees, the girl was easily crotch height with the woman now. The girl slowly lifted the woman's skirt, revealing the woman's semi erect cock. The smell of the woman's sweat and cock flooded the girl's senses. And she loved it. It made her even hornier. She takes the woman into her mouth, trying to copy what the woman has done before.

The woman puts both her hands on the top of her head, “Don't overthink it, just relax.” The girl listens and tries to slow down and relax, and then the woman thrusts, her cock hitting the back of the girl's throat. She pulls back and thrusts again. The girl understands now and tries to relax, but this is completely new. But that doesn't stop her from being a good girl. “Oh babygirl, your throat is just like a fleshlight, it feels like you're made for my cock.” The girl barely hears the words, she just lets the woman have her way. The seconds become minutes, the minutes drift by as the girl loses all sense of time. She is not a boy tonight, she is this woman's toy.

The woman eventually stops thrusting, exhausted she pulls her cock from the girl's mouth. The girl can see strings of saliva and precum connecting them still. “Lay down.” the woman commands. Having learned her place, the girl does as told, laying her head on her pillow, preparing for what's to come. “You've been such a good girl, I think it's time I helped you cum.” Excitement wells up in the girl. She's waited all night for this.

The woman crawls onto the bed and stands on her knees, pushing herself between the girl's legs. She puts her cock on the girl's cock, and thrusts. The girl lets out a loud moan. And again, the woman thrusts. And, again. And again until she's developed a rhythm. The girl realizes she can see the woman's face like this. She can see her face strain and hear her moan with each thrust. This turns the girl on even more. The woman notices the girl staring, and slows her rhythm as she pushes herself forward to shove her tongue into the girl's mouth. The girl doesn't know what to do and just let's her do it. The pleasure is slower, but the pleasure is there. The woman lifts her head back up, resuming her previous posture and previous rhythm, causing the girl to let out long, deep moans. The pressure is coming back, the intensity in her cock is building, “I'm g-going to c-cum” she moans out.

“Mmm, cum for me sweet girl,” the woman replies. Finally with the permission, the girl finally feels herself explode. Her cum shooting out of her and covering them both. The girl breathes heavy, nearly in tears, “th-thank you thank you.” The girl can't tell if the woman replied, her senses fade, the world around her fades, and she melts into the bed, deep into sleep.

The sounds of chirping birds wake the girl up. She's in bed, covered in cum, in a girl's lacy panties. The woman she met at the party before is putting her top on when she notices the girl woke up. “Oh hi sweetheart, I need to go, stuff to do. You should go back to sleep if you don't need to get up early.”

The girl shakes her head, she has no where to be. “But..I don't want you to go...”

“Awww,” she coos at the girl, “but I have to my sweet girl.” The woman picks up her bag and pulls a pen out of it. She looks around the room for something to write on, finally deciding to just write it on the girl's arm. “This is my number. Text me sometime.” The girl nods, excited. The party worked, she got a friend!

She escorts the woman to the living room, but before the woman leaves, she reaches into her bag again and pulls out two pill bottles and puts them in the girl's hand. "Take two of these a day.”

“What do they do?” The girl asks.

The woman motions at her body, “they do this. It'll make you the girl you've wanted to be.”

“I'm not a girl.” It was automatic. She didn't even intend to say it.

“Ok, ok, girl adjacent. You can be whatever you want, but take those pills and it'll do it for you. I have extras so I might as well give them to you.”

The woman opens the door and as she exits the apartment, she turns around, “Also, you're going to clean those panties and give them back. It's a matching set, damn it, I can't just lose them” The girl, realizing finally that she's still covered in cum and in panties, goes red and finally closes the door in a panic.

The girl goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water before going back to her room. She stares at the pill bottles given to her. She opens the one bottle and takes a small blue pill out. She stares at it, trying to figure out what to do with it.

“I'm not a girl.” she says to herself, just before washing the blue pill down her throat.

[luveline]

Hi there! I hope your day’s been going well :)

Could you maybe write something with Spencer where Reader faints? Feel free to ignore this if you’re not up for it!!

thank u for ur request! fem!reader, 1.6k

"It's so hot," you say, startled. The lobby of the hotel had been blissfully air-conditioned. The difference hits you immediately. 

"Don't worry about blazers or professional attire," Hotch says, though he quickly amends, "within reason."

You take off your jacket and follow the herd of the BAU into the black SUVs. The SUVs are even hotter than the outdoors, blistering ovens of heat that have you feeling nauseous instantaneously. Spencer rubs your arm with the back of his hand swiftly —it's a friendly touch to say he's here, but it's quick to prevent any unnecessary added heat. 

It's August in Texas, 107 degrees Fahrenheit. Emily smells distinctly of sunscreen from the front passenger seat. Derek, behind the wheel, looks hot around the collar. Spencer looks as though he wishes he'd had a haircut before he came, chin length curls tucked tight behind his ears. 

Despite this, none of them complain beyond the general whine every now and then. You try very hard to shut up and focus on the case with them, but as the day goes on, bumping you from hot car to hot crime scene (with all inclusive smells of gore!), you feel wobbly on your feet. 

"Spence?" you ask, sitting in a hard-backed chair in the police precinct. 

"Yeah?" He doesn't look away from the geographical profile he's building. You're supposed to be helping, but your notes are half-hearted, likely useless. "What?" 

"Do you have any water?" 

He pushes a pin into the left of the map and grabs a ruler. "No, sorry. There's a staff room by the bullpen, the secretary said to help ourselves. Actually, she said to 'go ham.'"

"Okay. I'll be right back. And I'll be more helpful." 

"You're plenty helpful," he murmurs, leaning down to follow the line of his rules with a pencil. 

You don't feel helpful, you feel awful. Head heavy, eyes aching, every step sends a jolt through your teeth and jaw, your skull like a mashed potato. You know you're a poor sight with sweat wetting your hair and a crawling sensation between your legs and the fabric of your pants. 

Letting yourself into the staff room, you're unsurprised to find a bone dry water cooler and a crate of water bottles with only one remaining. Spencer needs a drink too, and he has a thing about germs. You frown at the water bottle as though that might duplicate it, but when it doesn't, you're forced to take it and put it under your arm. You look around for a mug to at least have some tap water no matter how ill-advised that may be. They're all dirtied in the sink and on tables. Fuck. 

Spencer is super, super lovely to you. You wonder sometimes if he might ask you out, or at least want to, but most of the time you're sure it's just a little extra friendliness because he knows how it feels to be the youngest on the team, how patronised or lonely it gets. And the weight of trying to prove yourself every mission, it's almost as heavy as your head. 

"Hey," Spencer says as you open the conference room door. "I think I've worked something out. Could you call Garcia for me? I've got dry-erase marker on my hands." 

"Got this for you," you say, offering him the bottle. He takes it without looking. 

"Thanks. Are you feeling any better? I know you can be sensitive to the heat." 

"Maybe we can get portable fans on the FBI budget next year," you say wistfully, pushing a chair in at the table. You lean on it to grab the phone in the middle of a sea of papers and cases and jackets, black spots popping up in your vision. "My head's rushing." 

"Hey, guys," Emily says, sounding strangely chipper as she and Hotch trudge in. Her hair is in a tight ponytail away from her face. 

You try to greet them and end up hanging your head. 

"Y/N," Spencer chokes, alarmed.

You slump forward over the chair, desperate to keep your footing and failing. Your shin knocks into the chair and your hands grasp at the top of it, but you can't hold yourself up any longer, knocking your face into the chair as you collapse. A cheap tent in a strong breeze, you fall with little more than a weak sigh. 

You're hurting a lot when you come to, blinking like your lashes have been brushed with glue. The lights have been turned off, and a blissful chill soaks your hairline. Someone presses a water bottle to your lips and lifts your head. You drink half the contents in three gulps and get laid down again with the utmost care. 

"She's coming around," Hotch says. 

Your neck aches propped over a leg. Two deft hands hold your head still. 

"Don't move too much," Spencer says, his voice odd. You blink as his face moves into view upside down. "An EMT is on the way, okay? You passed out." 

You can't find your voice. Spencer strokes your cheek with his thumb, says, "Hey, can you hear me? Let's hear your voice. Talk to me." 

"You don't sound like yourself," you say hoarsely, each word tenuous. You wince at the bruising heat that radiates from your nose with each word. 

"I'm worried about you," Spencer admits. "It makes it hard to stay objective." 

"No, you sound funny." 

"I'm worried," he repeats. His smile is strained. 

"She's okay," Hotch says. 

You realise Emily's got your hand in hers when she squeezes it. "Have you had anything to drink today?" she asks you, fondly incredulous. 

"No, she hasn't, and I didn't say anything about it. I'm an idiot. I'm so sorry, Y/N," Spencer says. 

"Y/N's responsible for her own preservation, Reid. And it's been a tough case, with the heat. Let's not blame anyone for anything." You press your chin to your chest to see Hotch's anxious frown. "We will be having a discussion about this later." 

You turn your face into Spencer's thigh. "Oh." 

"Don't close your eyes," Hotch says. He employs a firm, boss-like tone that has you rushing to follow orders. "You hit your head." 

"I don't feel well," you complain, wanting to close your eyes.

"Considering your behaviour," Spencer says, one of his hands trailing down your face, neck, and collar, where he rests it genially, "you likely have a mild to moderate concussion. And you're dehydrated, so you'll be feeling the effects more severely."

"Why haven't you been drinking?" Emily asks. 

"I just…" You blink sluggishly. "I don't know… We don't take anything that isn't coffee with us places and…" You lean your cheek into Spencer's hand, not quite connecting that it's his hand, or that you're laying on the precinct floor. "They only had one bottle in the staff room." 

"Why didn't you drink it?" Spencer asks softly. 

"I knew you hadn't had anything to drink, either." 

"We could've shared," he says, sounding genuinely confused. 

"You don't like sharing stuff like that. Germs." 

Spencer's voice is barely above a whisper, "I wouldn't care about your germs, Y/N. They're your germs." 

You don't have time to ask him what he means, but you've ample time to think about it on loop when the EMT arrives. He props you up, checking you over thoroughly, shining a light in your eyes and deeming you concussed.

"You don't have to see a doctor," the EMT advises. "But we're happy to take you to the hospital if that's what you want." 

"Yes," Spencer says, as you say, "No." 

Spencer puts a hand on your shoulder blade. It is an extremely forward move on his part, so unlike him that you recognise how odd it is despite your foggy mind. "She should go." 

"She fainted, Spencer," Emily says. 

"Exactly! So she should go to the hospital and–"

"I didn't break anything," you say, waving a shaky hand at the small but concerned crowd of people you've attracted. 

"Luckily," the EMT says. "Drink plenty of water and take it easy. Don't be afraid to call again if you feel worse." 

Hotch walks the EMT out, needing to take a phone call. Emily goes with him, promising to return with a dry shirt for you to wear now that yours has been soaked at the collar by the water they'd been cooling you down with while you were unconscious. 

Spencer settles practically knee to knee with you in two of the uncomfortable chairs, his assessing gaze frankly perturbing. 

"You'd share germs with me?" you ask. 

Spencer's hand leaps across the gap to yours where it rests on your knee. His eyes, brown and sweet, have all the light of a blinding smile as his lips quirk into something more sheepish. "If it stopped you from fainting, yeah. And even if it didn't, I'd be stupid to care about germs when I…" 

You breathe out slowly. "When you what?" 

"Well," he says, looking down at your hands. "I guess I just wouldn't mind your germs, that's all." 

If he's saying what you think he's saying, he's doing it in the most Spencer Reid way possible. Concussed, your charisma fails you. You've no wit to tease him with. 

You fold your hand around his. "Thanks for catching me," you say gently. 

He squeezes your fingers clumsily. "You're welcome. But it was actually mostly Emily." 

[flamingbluepanda]

How to Camp for Beginners

Hello! Tis I, your local boy scout/girl scout/avid gay camper, here to give some top notch Advice™️ about camping! The season is nearly upon us and the woods are a callin' so let's get out there and be safe kiddos!

Before you Go!

Make sure you find a campsite you like and that fits your comfort level! There's ZERO shame in picking a place with cabins, public restrooms, showers, heated pools, hot tubs- whatever your looking for!

Once you pick your campsite, make sure you know the area around it- especially if camping somewhere your unfamiliar with! Example questions to make sure you know: Where's the local hospital? Where's the closest grocery store? Gas station? Are there rangers at your campsite and how do you get in contact with them? Does your campsite provide anything at all as a courtesy?

Also make sure you know the wilderness around you and prep accordingly -- if your camping in a site with bears during their non hibernating months, make sure you bring bear safe trash recepitecals if your campsite doesny provide them

Bring people with you. People you know and trust. Seriously, the buddy system saves lives. Do NOT camp alone unless you are an EXPERT and know the area EXCRUCIATINGLY well. This is also not the place to go with your new romantic partner/friend/friend or partners family -- some people are very good at pretending to be safe and getting you alone in the woods is when they stop pretending.

Pack layers. Make sure you bring at least one set of sweatpants and hoodie, bonus points if their insulated. It gets very cold at night in most wilderness locations, even in the summer.!

Bring at least one set of waterproof clothes, including rain boots and a waterproof coat.

Pack however many sets of underwear and socks you think you need to bring, then pack more. Bring an overwhelming number of socks

Bring good sneakers that are broken in but not worn out

Flashlight with extra batteries and a portable battery cube, fully charged

Make sure you have sunscreen and bugspray, your skin will thank yoi

While packing food, make sure you bring things that will last the trip in an insulated bag or cooler. Don't buy your ice until your close to your camp. Some campsites will even offer bags of ice at the ranger station!

Bring PLENTY of water. My brother always packs ten nalgenes full of water, others bring a big pack of water bottles. Stay hydrated!

If you're bringing a furry friend, make sure they are fully up to date on their rabies and Lyme shots

Pack In!

Make sure you have a full tank of gas when you arrive at your campsite

I personally like to leave my phone in my car while I camp. Bring books/art supplies/journals or whatever you do for fun -- if that's your phone and you have service, great!

Having said that, if you ARE having a technology free camping trip, pick one person in your group with the best phone and declare them the emergency phone person

Best doesn't mean newest -- your friend who hates capitalism and has a Nokia that can survive nuclear fallout should be picked over your friend with the brand new super fragile iphone

Make sure the emergency phone remains fully charged and comes with you when you leave the campsite. Most emergency calls will work without cell service, but a dead phone can't make calls

Make sure you get the rangers number! Rangers are your friends, they want you to have a safe trip and are there for all your questions!

Also make sure to respect the rules of whatever campsite you're at -- if you're on boy scout property for example, you absolutely CANNOT bring alcohol. If you're having a fun adult camping trip, make sure you know the weed laws in that state before your puff and pass.

While setting up your campsite, try to find somewhere dry, that's not located near the bottom of a hill or next to a river.

Try to find places that don't have a ton of loose rocks or dirt, but where the ground is soft enough to nail in stakes for tents/canopies

Most campsites will have an assigned area with a fire pit, but if yours doesn't, make sure you collect enough rocks to build a fire circle before roasting any s'mores!

If your campsite doesn't let you bring cars past a certain point, make sure you know the fastest and safest route to the parking lot

I cannot stress how important it is to make sure you know the emergency numbers -- if theres a medical emergency, you may not be able to get someone to the car. Rangers will have ATVs and paramedics will have the skills to get people out of situations

Make sure your first aid kit is well packed with plenty of bandaids antiseptic and gauze- triangle bandages are also a versitle tool that can help with sprains splints and holding bandages in place. Preferably bring someone who knows at least basic first aid or CPR -- if you can't find a friend with that knowledge, make sure to be extra nice to the rangers

Bring an extra large bottle of your preferred over the counter painkillers -- dehydration and too much time in the sun can cause headaches! Also nifty for twisted ankles or sore backs from sleeping on the ground.

If you forgot your tent stakes, that's okay, put a spare cooler/bag/something heavy in the center of your tent to weigh it down in case of high winds.

If you forgot your rain canopy, a ripped trashbag will work in a pinch, but be warned: it's gonna get hot as HELL in that tent

During your Trip

Sunscreen and bugspray every day- even cloudy days have high UV rays, melanoma kills

Whether cooking on portable grill or campfire make sure your meat is fully cooked.

Chopping your produce and meat and cooking them in two separate packets of tin foil makes delicious meals, plus it's easy to check how done it is

Speaking of fires, make sure you have fireproof gloves and tongs if cooking over a campfire

Zip tents if rain is predicted but believe me, tents are like fucking hot boxes, so try to get as much air movement as you can.

If your campsite doesn't have latrines/portapotties/bathrooms (and you didn't bring one) be a good friend and make sure your camp's designated potty site is down wind of your camp. Also, human droppings can attract animals, so make sure it's a good distance away

(seriously though consider bringing a porta potty they make ones for campers)

CHECK FOR TICKS!!!! CHECK FOR TICKS EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU CAN!!!

Ticks like warm, dark places, so make sure you check behind your knees, under your arms, the back of your neck, in your socks and your privates! Ladies- that includes under the boobies. Wearing long pants, high socks, or long sleeves can be a simple and efficient tick deterrent, especially in marshy areas or tall grass. Don't forget to check your pets if they came with you!

If you find a tick, get some tweezers, grasp as close to the skin as you can, and slowly but firmly pull down on the tick- remember, you want the head out. You can also use a credit card or any other dull edge to help push downward.

Wet feet cause blisters, so always wear socks and change them often. If you get a blister, DONT POP IT, cover it with a bandaid or surround it with moleskin

Hydrate hydrate hydrate hydrate, drunk water every fifteen minutes even if your not thirsty

Remember to respect the nature around you- don't go pulling leaves off trees or disturbing animal dens, stay away from pretty much any animal- yes, even deer, bucks can and will gore you If frightened enough, deer can tramble you and even the cutest little Birdy can carry rabies and other diseases.

Poison Ivy has three leaves, poison oak looks like a strangling vine, and poison sumac has berries. Make sure you know what grows in your camping area.

If you brought a pet, don't let them eat any plants!

Make sure to use the buddy system especially if someone starts feeling ill- a lot of really dangerous illnesses start out looking a lot like colds and flu

Make sure to have a bucket of water next to your campfire, and every night make sure to completely douse your fire before turning it. Splash water on instead of dumping and make sure every ember is out- remember, only you can prevent wildfires

If you brought a gas powered generator for your campsite, make sure it's as far away as possible from the fire pit. Also, they're quite loud, so maybe don't put it near your tent. Put it on the outskirts of the campsite and don't leave it running when you're not there

Pack out!

LEAVE NO TRACE!!! make sure you clean up ALL your litter, all of it, every single one. Check and triple check your entire camp site.

Make sure everyones tent poles and stakes end up with the correct tent- you'd be surprised how brand specific stuff like that is.

Especially don't leave any food items -- there's likely going to be another person filling that campsite soon, they don't need moldy food attracting critters!

If there's a sign out sheet, don't forget to sign out at the ranger station! If they had to evacuate the campsite for whatever reason, they'll need to know you're gone!

Do a final tick/other bug check- you don't need to be bringing bugs home with you! Also check that there are no critters are in your supplies -- this sounds obvious, but you'd be surprised where snakes and mice can end up.

Give your pets an extra good bath when you get home. You don't know what could've gotten stuck in their fur!

Tick/spider bites tend to look like bullseyes. If you develop bullseye shaped rashes after you get home, seek medical attention.

Most of all, have fun and be safe!!!

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Summer With Them

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ׂׂૢ Y’all have no idea how much i hate summer i defrost from vampire to weird nerd -1000 aura points or whatever they’re saying on the clock app

Anyways i finished this while at the laundromat

Ghost

Prefers summer nights to summer days or evenings

Sits on the porch at night with you listening to the cicadas sing

And during this time you can’t take showers together bc he won’t let you adjust the temperature, he takes his showers ice cold

Don’t ask me where I get this from but he vibes with that one Type O Negative song bc according to him it gives “summer” (iykyk)

Prob has sun sensitivity

Cannot leave the house without his sunglasses

And he avoids driving when the sun’s too bright

Soap

Bastard who enjoys summer #1

He likes summer because it means going down to the beach and showing off his muscles that stay clothed under uniform throughout the year

Wants to buy swimming trunks that’ll match your swimwear

He likes joining teens in volleyball and flying kites with kids

Loves going on walks on the beach at dawn and dusk

He once gave you a bad scare when making you think the dolphin fin in the water was a shark

Even if you’re at home he’ll drag you out of bed to join his morning walk and evening walks after dinner

Gaz

He’s content with summer

Will come up with tons of things to do

Picnics he prepares every weekend

Cloud watching

Catching fireflies in a jar and setting them free all at once to see them glow

Running his fingers through your hair as the breeze blows

Making lemonade together to stay cool outside

Buys a vintage camera to take lots of pics of you

On every evening walk you take together he picks something small like a leaf or flower and saves it

At the end of the season he gets everything together and creates a page in his scrapbook

Alejandro

Bastard who enjoys summer #2

He likes the feel of summer breeze on his bare skin and you look forward to seeing that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Likes to sleep with the windows open at night

Blasts music

Carne asadas

Frequents the local ice cream shops to buy mangonadas

Throughout the entire summer your kitchen has fruits of all kind that he eats with tajin

Will take you for a drive around in his truck and then find a quiet little spot like a lake or mountain to park and sit on the truck bed watching the sky

Phillip Graves

Sits outside with sunglasses on and beer in hand

Calls for you to come out and sit with him to watch the sunset

Cookouts

Anytime you complain of the heat you better hope he’s not around to yap your ear off about some anecdote from when he was a child

“It’s hot” “Ain’t that hot” he responds whilst his face is sunburned bc he refuses to wear sunscreen

Will only wear sunscreen if you are able to catch him before he goes outside and apply it for him

Keegan

It seems like summer evenings are the perfect time to do stuff

For some reason likes to do things shirtless in summer: yard/garden work, mowing the lawn, washing the car..

You set up a chair on the porch to watch him

Falling asleep on a soft patch of grass under the shade of a tree

Will start a bonfire and sit around it with you for hours into the late hours of the night

Sometimes you’ll stay out so late with him that both of you fall asleep

König

He’s not fond of summer

Would prefer to stay inside but if you want to he’ll go out as well

Sprawls on the floor with the fan on

He’ll drive where you want to go and then sit in the car watching you

Prob keeps ice packs in a cooler to keep cool when going outside for a long time

He’d rather be outside when the sun starts to set and the sky turns orange

Sets up a hammock

Afternoon naps on the hammock with the gentle sway of the wind

Horangi

He likes summer and prepares for it

Just imagine him getting out a little backpack with a sunhat, sunglasses, sunscreen, water bottle, umbrella, cooling sleeves, etc…

That’s not for him tho that’s for you he puts on sunglasses and is good to go

During summer he loves going to markets and buying fruit bc that’s when it’s best

Lots of strawberries, grapes and tangerines

Constantly reminds you to wear sun protection

He likes being outside a lot actually and will take you to his favorite parks and places to hike

Nikto

The change of seasons does not affect him much

He’ll notice the change of weather one day and mention how much warmer it is

“It’s summer” “Oh, we should go camping soon…”

He’ll take you camping whether you like it or not insisting that you will like it

Sets a tent near the river to catch fish

He also likes to plant vegetables during the nice weather and bring them to you, proudly showing off his hard work rewarded

He likes to cook meals together and eat outside

[renlyslittlerose]

Every summer we leave bottled water in a cooler outside our house to give out for free. Anyone can take one, and usually by the end of the day the cooler has been depleted. We've done it for a number of years now and every year it gets more popular, maybe because it's hotter or maybe because people are less wary of the offer of free water.

In any case, today a man I don't recognize to know his name, but know he lives in the area in possibly one of the tent encampments by the river, dropped a $10 bill in our letter box. I can't say for certain it was because of the water, but a part of me thinks maybe it was.

So thanks, kind stranger. It's going back in the water supply bucket.

[jolalibrary]

16. apple green

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter sixteen of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: dad!frankie. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. FLIRTATION TO THE MAX. an: this chapter made me beam from start to finish. like my face hurts.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

It’s long, your exhale. Stretching out slow and full, cheeks still tingling with the lingering ache of laughter as you gaze at the horizon.

Just where the sun dips; its final rays painting the sky in lavender and rose. You're joined by a gentle, warm breeze whispering through the air, carrying the salty scent of the sea and the soft hum of waves caressing the shore's golden sand.

The air is cooler now under the encroaching dusk, as the tide steals the footprints, making them vanish.

And it’s perfection. All of it.

A moment you wish you could pause and live, exactly like this, for a handful of hours.

The sound of flip-flops meeting soles is what eventually ruins it.

It pulls your glance over your shoulder, watching his approach—shades shielding his eyes, hair loose in slightly longer curls, it almost dry from your earlier fun in the water.

Then you see his smirk. The one which grows as he nears, knowing what you’re thinking, even if you try to hide it. Because if you had gone to grab pizzas, you’d be face down in the sand—food ruined, embarrassment smothering over your cheeks. But, he carries it one-handed like it’s nothing. A bottle of soda under his arm and a plastic bag dangling from his wrist, as you shift on the blanket that’s still warm from the sun, arms reaching up to help.

“Hey, Butterscotch.”

“Hey, Mi lluviosa.”

You don't even fight how you beam at your nickname's new variation. The one that had slipped out when he'd turned his alarm off, eyes all closed with your face buried into his neck.

The jingle of his car keys sounds as he throws them to the edge of the blanket, watching him join you as the scent of melted cheese, tomato and toppings greet your nose before you even open the box.

“Smells so good.”

He utters a soft agreement as your knee abuts his; periodically glancing at him as you grab a slice, chewing with a smile as he wrestles with his toppings and strands of cheese from tangling in his beard.

By the time you’re both full, the chill of the evening air is making you shiver, when you gently slot the cardboard lids back into place. Tenderly, as you watch another wave rise and crash against the beach, your palms tenderly brush up and down your arms.

He notices—or must do. Moving onto his knees to dig around the duffel you’d both brought—a jacket pulled out, before sliding it around your shoulders, coming to sit behind you. Legs on either side as the scent of him joins you.

Toes wiggling in the sand, his hands sliding over your legs, you turn. “Would you rather be a jellyfish or a starfish?”

Exhaling a groan, your back comes to rest on his chest. Eased there, guided. Your ankle accidentally nudges one of the half-empty pizza boxes in your movements—a thing you hope remains sand-free from when you get back to his and decide you wish to nibble on a little more.

Blowing out a puff of air, it tickles against your ear as his arms come around you. “Jellyfish.”

“Is it because they glow in the dark?”

Laughing, kissing the side of your head. “No. But that is a good reason.”

“You want to sting people, don’t you?”

Sliding your hand around the back of his neck, fingers scratching at his hair, smiling, biting down on your lip as he presses another kiss.

“Maybe.”

“Deviant.”

Softly blowing against your ear, drawing shapes along his scalp as he whispers, you love it.

And you do.

Fuck you do.

Do you think I need to reconsider jeans and a black tee for what we’re getting up to today?

No, you’ll be fine. I’m putting up some shelves is all.

Does this mean you’re going to tuck a little pencil behind your ear?

Do you like the idea of that?

Might do.

I’m beginning to worry you’re with me for my hobbies and not me.

How about you stop looking so hot when you do your hobbies?

I’ll try. It’s hard to turn off.

HA HA HA.

HA.

You're there, in a stranger's home, for all of ten minutes before you realise that you’re not needed. Not that Frankie says anything.

Only confirming it when you ask, “You sure you don't need me to hold this?” Voice-breaking the quiet hum of the electric drill he’s holding.

Carefully re-positioning one of the wooden shelves against the wall, his brow furrows in concentration, a single dark curl falling over his forehead as he glances from the step-ladder, eyes nothing short of warm and twinkling despite the overcast light. “I've got it, but your company makes it easier,” he replies, tone nothing short of affectionate, sweet, truthful.

“Francisco Morales, did you want me here as eye candy?”

He buries his answer with the drill as you wander over to the window smirking, seeing that the sky is still a thick blanket of grey, clouds heavy with the threat of rain. Even without the window open, you know the air is cool, likely damp, carrying a hint of petrichor as you turn on your heels, watching from your new position.

You don’t suppress the small smile that plays on your lips—something comforting about the sight of him so focused, so intent on getting everything just right.

“Could you just pass that for me?”

Smirking, you quickly move over to pick up what he’s gesturing at, turning it over in your hand. “This?”

“Please.”

Biting your lip, grinning. “What do I get for it?”

“The knowledge I’d be done earlier.”

Tilting your head from side to side, you scrunch your face—almost wanting to twirl the tool.

“What if I wish that you'd do me yourself, Morales?”

Pausing, the wood in his hand lowers down the wall as he turns his head, staring, mouth falling open before he eventually rests the plank against the wall. Slowly coming down the steps, across the plastic-covered floor, it all scrunching under his boots. “That what you want?”

His hands slide around your waist, palms flat, dragging along the fabric that covers your skin, rippling fire out across your body as you curl in, arch, ghosting your mouth over his.

“We can’t fuck in this person’s house, Frankie.”

Groaning, low, deep in the back of his throat, you smile—mirroring the one he traces across yours. “Remind me why?”

“You make me messy.”

Grunting, pressing it to your neck. “Yeah?”

Nodding, biting your lip, pulling his face up by your palms on his cheeks, mouth ghosting over his. “Really messy.”

Inhaling, you feel him agree. Mouth meeting yours, before you ease his nose to your lips, pressing a kiss. “Finish drilling, Morales. Then we can go home and you can drill me.”

He mumbles something in Spanish under his breath.

Guess how my morning has been?

Wonderful? Full of coffee and people asking for tips on how to twist a screw in.

No, not everyone is you. Harold has asked me three times when he’s next seeing you.

Oh yeah, I should really return his call for our second date.

I know you’re joking, but ouch.

Don’t worry, Francisco. He’s just a side piece. You’re the main. I want to get lunch, do you want me to bring you some and then you can pee around me so he knows?

Please. He keeps asking if you like diamonds.

Tell him I’m not mad at a diamond.

Shooting a wink at Harry, he lifts his chest up from his leaned position on the counter. Head dipping, fingers sliding across his lips as though they’re a zip before tapping his nose.

That familiar scent greets you just as graciously. All fresh-cut wood, spilt paint and lemon disinfectant, as well as Harold's aftershave. The one change—the biggest—is the missing crackle of the radio, you had found a compact, newer one a few weeks back, placing it on the counter with a big red bow and a card for Harry.

Bag swinging in your fingers, it’s a hunt to find him. Peering down aisles, eventually spotting him crouched—cargo trousers doing their utmost to remain stitched across his thighs.

You’re grateful he wears an apron that covers his groin. Half-fearful of the eye contact you’d give the area in what he’s currently wearing.

Digging your hand into the bag, and retrieving the top plastic carton, you do a little wiggle down the aisle with it.

“What’s this?”

Shrugging, stopping just before him as he stands. “Cake?”

Placing his clipboard down, narrowing his eyes as he takes it, turning it over.

“Butterscotch—that’s the flavour.”

Scrunching his face, he sighs. “I… I don’t know if I like it, baby.”

“Well, more for me.”

Smiling, pressing a kiss to your cheek, he motions to peer in the bag. “You like it?”

“Well, I like you.”

“Not sure it’ll taste like me.”

Tongue in your cheek, looking him up and down as he straightens, you wait a beat, and then another, before adding, “Shame. Guess I’ll have to keep eating you then.”

“Menace.”

Moving close, lips almost touching his, you whisper the same words he said to you only a day or two ago, you love it. A low whine leaves his lips, stifling it against your mouth, a crooked finger under your chin, making kissing a little easier.

“Wanna eat in the office?” he asks.

“I was thinking we could eat as you cut wood. I love sawdust seasoning.”

Pinching your side, not able to stop the giggle, he turns you on the spot, leading you back down the aisle you’d come down. “Go in, I’ll be a moment—just gonna tell Harold that I’m going on break.”

Nodding, twirling on the spot, you wink. “Tell him I love him.”

His palm manages to catch you on your ass as you roar with laughter.

Butterscotch Morales.

I’ve been first named.

Did you put flowers on my car?

Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t.

You lured me there to be romantic?

Well, it is very hard to be romantic when you’re at my house.

I can go home early if you want.

Don’t you fucking dare.

Noted.

I also think you’re doing just fine in the romantic department. For one, they’re gorgeous. And the deep clean you gave me in the shower this morning still has my thighs shaking.

I don’t think you know how good you look with soap suds on your skin.

I have an idea now.

You fancy anything particular for dinner tonight?

Can you be on the menu?

I think it can be arranged for dessert.

Okay. Then tacos?

Double helping for me then.

Francisco!

You’re smirking I can feel it from here.

You know before you open your eyes what day it is. A mixed blend of emotions that flood you as you wake to the thick scent of freshly brewed coffee, breakfast—maybe eggs, you can’t be sure.

Heart both full and heavy as it coaxes you from your sleep, your lashes flutter, eyes blinking as you stretch your arm out across his dark bedsheets. You hate that you can feel the warmth fading. Dismay flutters in your chest, as you begin to fight the urge to roll face down into his sheets and glue yourself to his mattress.

“Morning, baby,” he whispers, interrupting, eyes finding him in the doorway, leaning, head resting against his bicep, a slither of his stomach on show as his top pulls up. “I’m making us breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“I wanted to,” he replies, palm patting against his thigh. “If you want a shower, you have time.”

“Telling me I smell?”

Tongue sliding over the front of his teeth, he smiles—mischievously. “Maybe I just want you to smell like my soap for when you go home.”

Home you think. A tightness in your chest all but inflicted by the word. Four letters. Barely anything. Yet, you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek when he kisses your forehead and heads back out of the room.

It bubbles as you glance around the room—his room—taking in the cosy armchair with your jacket laid over it, the photograph of you and him surrounded by ones of Luca, Frankie and Luca or his friends.

Then, you hear him singing. The sound makes your heart throb at the same time as it brings a smile to your face as you head to his bathroom.

You find that the only benefit to showering is wrapping yourself in his cosy robe before you make your way to the living room.

Frankie lounges on the sofa, hand patting the spot beside him. You eagerly curl up next to him, nestling your head against his chest as his arm wraps around you, the other hand resting on your knee, thumb tracing soothing circles.

The tray of breakfast sits on the coffee table. You reach for a piece of toast, nibbling as you settle in. After a moment, you taste it—the eggs cooked just how you like, the toast perfect, just the way you love it. Of course, he has.

Frankie watches you with a tender expression, his fingers continuing their gentle caress on your knee.

“You excited?” you murmur between bites, “He’ll be here soon.”

Hand stroking over your leg, he swallows. “Yeah, I’ve missed him,” he replies, his voice a low, comforting rumble.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with love. “He’s going to have so many stories.”

Snorting, he runs a hand down his face. “Oh, I know.”

You smile, let the tranquillity of the moment wash over you, savouring the simple joy of being with the man you love. Curled up together. “Thank you for letting me see him before I go.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he leans down to kiss the top of your head. “You know you don’t have to go.”

Staring at him, thumb swiping over his upper lip, removing the crumb from a slice of toast. “I should. Before I never leave.”

The tip of his tongue peeks out, swiping across his lower lip as his fingers do a dance on your leg. “That doesn’t sound half bad.”

Rolling your eyes, picking up your coffee. “You can ask me better than that, Morales.”

You don’t add that you hope he does.

Draining more of your coffee as you stare at him over the porcelain, placing it down before kissing his cheek.

“I should go pack.”

His groan follows you as you head back off to dress—folding things, shoving others into a bag and cleaner clothes back into your drawer.

It’s a try, an almost fail to not feel a sting of tears as you leave your bag on the bed.

The embers of it flickering inside of you even when you take over cleaning for him when he tells you Sam’s car is pulling up. It almost douses it, his joy, drying the mug in your hand when you peer into the living room as the front door is flown open and you see Frankie bear-hugging Luca as Sam follows in behind him.

Miss you’s turn into excitable tales. Occasionally translated by Sam as you wipe the side free from water, closing a cupboard quietly and drying your hands.

Then, when you’re about to slyly move into the room discreetly, you hear her call your name.

For a second, your head turns, but you don’t move. Just glancing, pulse pounding in your ear as you find Sam smiling, waiting, brows slightly raised as though you hadn’t made it up that she’d spoken your name.

“Can we talk… outside?”

It takes all of your restraint not to flick your eyes to Frankie.

For what, you’re not sure—reassurance, need, it all blurs into a stew inside of you as you reply, following her through the living room and out of the front door.

Nails digging into your palm, you try to breathe. In and out, out and in. But it builds.

And it builds.

And it builds.

Unable to stop the anxiety shifts into something thicker, less easy to keep down. It rises in your throat, choking you. Something similar to bile, as your head runs through a thousand things—whether you’d been too much with Luca, whether Frankie hadn’t shared that you’d be here, whether and whether and—

“I wanted to thank you,” Sam begins, smiling, hands linked together in front of herself, “Frankie… he’s a great, great dad—”

“The best,” you add. And then shame blooms over the anxiety at interrupting.

Sam, though, doesn't seem fazed. If anything unbothered. “The best. I’m very lucky to co-parent with him. But—”

Your stomach knots. Tightens.

A ball swelling inside of you as it becomes harder to breathe, to take full ones that fill you with air and rational thinking.

“I know he didn’t help make all those things.”

Oh, you think.

Shoulders unlodging from your ears, sliding down to their normal place.

“You must have spent hours on them,” she continues, a soft line in her forehead appearing as her face lightly scrunched, “All of them. The t-shirt? The candle? The card—the card, was so, so nice. It was so thoughtful. I can’t… I am not ashamed to admit I cried my fucking eyes out.”

Shifting your weight, a smile breaking out, “It was all Luca’s idea. I just wanted—”

“I imagine some of it was, but not all of it.”

You blink. It’s that or let your eyes fill up too. Seeing her staring, watching, with nothing but gratefulness on her face.

“I’m… I’m glad he has you,” Sam says quickly, almost hurriedly. “Luca. And Frankie.”

Her hands come around her waist before relaxing at her side, lips rolling, looking as nervously as you did moments ago.

“Thank you, for helping him with the gifts,” she continues.

Swallowing, you nod. “Anytime—if that’s okay? I… I don’t want to be anything but Rainy to him.”

Smiling, she inhales. “I know.”

“Good.”

A beat happens, the two of you finding yourselves admiring the other when you hear Luca’s laugh echo out of the house.

“So, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but what is it with Rainy?”

Laughing, you press your hand to your face, watching her smile, waiting—patiently. “It’s a stupid joke, Frankie’s doing.”

Sam raises her brows, and stares in waiting, gesturing for you to continue.

“Okay, well—”

The next time it rains, can you kiss me in it?

Baby I’ll kiss you whatever the weather. Am I allowed to ask why?

It’s romantic, isn’t it?

Are you watching a movie?

Maybe.

And we haven’t kissed in the rain. We’ve kissed nearly everywhere else.

Well, I’d hate not to have kissed you everywhere, baby.

What’s happening in the movie?

Lots of declarations.

Ah. Lots of when we first met, I wasn’t looking for someone, I was running from it. But, you really wanted to try and build something, and before I knew it, I was falling.

That kind of thing yes.

I miss you.

I miss you too, baby. The bed feels strange without you asking me random questions.

I think watching this was a bad idea.

Answering his call, you don't pause the movie—just turn the volume down. Curling further into your couch as you tug the blanket up your neck, bringing his voice to your ear.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby. Is the movie making you sad?”

Nodding, you swallow back the lump in your throat. Tears springing, the ones that had already fallen.

“You choking up so much you can’t reply to me?”

Laughing, tears spluttering, you sniff, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand as you grin—half-shaking your head. “How’d you know?”

You hear rustling, imagining him in bed. In the middle of the place, the two of you have been sharing. Wondering if he can smell your perfume, whether he misses the extra warmth of your skin like you currently miss him.

“‘Cause I know you. And, you do this little sniffle you try to hide and—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, hearing him laugh, it tickling down your ear, making your chest go all warm like it usually does.

Like it always does.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have put this on.”

Snorting, it’s followed by a groan. One you now know he does when he stretches, when he’s trying to loosen the tightness in his back.

“Why did you?”

Because I miss you, you almost reply. Unsure how he couldn’t know, wouldn’t. A horrid thought burst through everything, standing all determined in the wake of nothing but only joy and happiness for days. Making your heart hurt, shrink and fall somewhere along the pit of you. Because maybe he didn’t know, because he didn’t miss you.

Maybe he felt happier that he had his home to himself, his bed, his things—

“I miss you too, Rainy.”

A gasp escapes, one enriched in emotions, fresh tears falling as you pause the movie, curling up more, knees pulled up as he repeats it.

“What do you miss?”

He snorts again, but more full of tease, “Fuck, where do I even start?”

“At the beginning of the list.”

“Oh well, firstly, I miss the fact I’ve not been asked if I would rather be a cactus or a house plant.”

And you smile. It stretches out, sliding into your cheeks—for the first time since you came home to emptiness—you feel happy again, even as another tear rolls down your cheek and you ask, “Well, what would you prefer?”

Frankie laughs. It flows down the phone, somehow brightening your own home, even if he’s not inside of it. It makes you kick off the blanket, stand up, turn the television off—and the lights—and walk the lonely route to your own bed.

Half-wishing you’d taken him up on the offer of staying one more night.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

[chaotic-toasters]

It's Different With You

Frida Maanum x Reader

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

"Y/NNNN," Frida whined quietly. "Y/NNN- Y/NNN—"

"What, Maanum?" You groaned, rolling over to face your girlfriend as she poked at your sides. "It's too early."

"Morning, elskling," she smiled, wiping the frown off your face with a kiss to your jaw. "It's 10:30, and I missed you. I've been up since eight."

You rubbed your eyes. "But I'm right next to you?"

"I wanted to talk to you," the Norwegian blushed as you reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Besides, we have to get ready for training."

You pulled her into you, wrapping your arms around her and burying your head i to her neck. "No. Sleep."

"Elskling—"

"What time is training?" you murmured.

"At 11:45, w—"

"What time is it now?"

"Ten thi—"

You grunted. "I only need twenty minutes."

"But babe—"

Your girlfriend's protest fell on deaf ears. You were already asleep, snoring into her neck like a baby.

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

"Hey, Katie, hey, Stina," you smiled at your's and Frida's best friends as you walked into the changing room, hand in hand. "How's it going?"

"Good, thanks," Katie raised her eyebrows. "Had some fun last night, Frida? Ye' look tired."

"N-no!" Frida stammered, hiding her face into your shoulder. "I just—"

"She woke up early instead of sleeping in like a sensible person," you snickered, setting your stuff down in your cubby. "Now she's tired."

"Be quiet," Frida complained, smacking you on the back of the head. "I needed time to get ready."

You looked at her strangely. "Why? You look pretty as it is."

Kyra fake gagged. "Get a room."

"You're sweet, Y/N," Steph smiled approvingly, side-eyeing Kyra. "Ignore this little pest, her single ass wouldn't know what love looks like."

"Hey!"

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

"Elskling! Elskling!"

You jolted at the sudden yelling, head whipping around to where your girlfriend was charging straight at you. "Frida? What's the matter?"

"Be my partner!"

You were a sucker for that face. Her eyes wide and innocent, dimples on full display as she grinned.

"Okay, okay," you agreed, kissing the top of her head. "Come on, my love. Don't keep the gaffer waiting."

As the two of you passed the ball back and forth, working on first touches, Frida started talking about what she and Stina had been up to over the weekend.

You totally zoned out, half-focusing on the ball and tunnel visioning at Frida. Some of her blonde hair had fallen out of its ponytail, perfectly framing her face and making her look even better than usual. She used her hands as she talked, muscles flexing in her training top as you shamelessly ogled her.

"-abe? Babe?" Frida snapped her fingers in front of your face. "Are you listening?"

"What? Yeah," you shook your head, blinking rapidly as you realized everyone was taking a water break. "I was just thinking about something."

The Norwegian squeezed your hand. "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

You practically melted, hand shaking as you grabbed your water bottle from the cooler. "Y-yup."

"Oi! Lovebirds! Kyra's right, get a room!" Katie shouted. "Disgustin'!"

"As if you don't do worse with Caitlin!" You fired back. "She asked you a question the other day and you almost fainted."

Katie tackled you to the floor. "This is slander!"

You wrestled about, pulling her into a headlock. "It's only slander if it's not true. But it is."

She growled, trying to wriggle free. "Yer' a little shite, Y/L/N."

"No I'm not!" You scoffed. "Frida, tell her I'm not!"

Frida said nothing, averting her eyes.

"Frida!"

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

"You're so mean to me, Frida," you whined, sitting down in your cubby. "I compliment you all the time and then you don't back me up."

"I'm sorry," she pressed a kiss to your lips. "I still love you."

You grunted. "Hmph."

"I love you," she kissed you again, pulling you closer. "I love you."

"Y/N, what have you done to Frida?" Stina joked. "Frida hates PDA. She didn't even want to hug her exes in public when they dated."

"I don't know," you smirked. "Frida, what's with the sudden change?"

Frida blushed, mumbling, "It's different with you."

Your shit-eating grin grew impossibly bigger. "Want to share with the class?"

Frida's face turned even redder. "No."

"Are you su- OW!"

Frida glared at you, hand dropping from the back of your head. "Just because I love you doesn't mean I won't smack you for being stupid."

You sulked. "Awww."

Does this make sense? I think not

[maxsimagination]

𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗳𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 - 𝗮.𝗯𝗼𝗻𝗺𝗮𝘁𝗶

summary: the barcelona women are dying from heat exhaustion so they resort to acting like kids

𖦹 masterlist

𝗜𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗦 𝗔𝗕𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗨𝗧𝗘𝗟𝗬 sweltering in barcelona.

even at seven in the morning, the spanish sun never failed to make everything hot.

unfortunately, that still meant we had to do training. as an australian i thought i'd be able to handle the heat, but on days like today i felt like i was dying.

aitana rolled over in our shared bed, smiling at my sleepy eyes. i didn't have any sheets covering my body, it was too hot for that. i was simply starfishing, face down on the mattress.

"time to get up, amor. we have training."

i groaned and shoved my face further into the pillow i was lying on.

aitana chuckled at me and started to get up. she pulled the curtains, attempted to make the bed as best she could with me lying on it still. then she moved to the bathroom to get ready.

i was internally groaning as i rolled out of bed myself, taking a bit to actually wake up. then i too got ready, throwing my training stuff haphazardly in my training bag and heading downstairs. when aitana made her way downstairs she ruffled my hair and pressed a kiss to my temple.

i was sleepily and slowly eating a bowl of muesli.

she sat next to me with the bowl i'd somehow managed to make for her as well.

we ate, and got everything we needed before i went back to our room to grab my phone and bag.

"yn are you ready?"

aitana called out to me from wherever she was in our apartment.

"yes, i'm coming!"

i grabbed my bag and dragged myself out to the door where aitana was.

"i made you a snack. here."

she handed me a container with some food in it and a little sticky note with a heart drawn on it stuck on top.

"thank you, mi amor."

i gave her a kiss on the cheek and we walked out to the car.

when we got to the training grounds, most of the other players were already there, just finishing getting changed.

we joined in and everyone eventually made it out onto the pitch.

we had a routine whenever we were training. the team always went to the gym first then we did drills on the field.

this was when aitana and i split up for a bit, i went straight for the weights while she was on the opposite side of the area, doing sets with kiera.

once everyone had done their own exercises and sets, we had a quick water break and made our way out to the field. 

our first drill was sets of five aside. there were five teams of five, four of them were playing while one sat out, then they rotated once they'd played for fifteen minutes.

weirdly, aitana and me were on the same team. jonatan almost always split us up but maybe he was feeling nice today.

we finished that drill and moved onto the next one.

the whole team ended up completing five or six more drills before another water break. everyone gathered round the water coolers and had water bottles in their hands.

i was one of the first at the cooler, desperate to get to liquid into my system. aitana walked over slowly with lucy and grabbed her own bottle.

but within the next minute she had moved behind me, pulled my shirt and squirted water all down my back. i whipped around with a shriek, before noticing it was aitana running away.

"'tana! not cool!"

then i grabbed another bottle that still had water in it, i'd completely drained mine, and ran after her. she was quick and got a bit away from me but i did manage to get her back when she ran back to the group. i hid behind lucy while she wasn't looking and crept up on her.

then squirted some water on her head and ran away again.

now it was her turn to shriek and turn around. she did catch up to me and got me with a heap of water. she had taken the lid off her bottle and just threw it at me. so i turned around and did the same.

jonatan saw us having our water fight and said he was happy with what we'd done for today and we were free to go home.

by then end of our little water fight we were both drenched from head to toe, but at least i was cooler.

[jasmines-library]

for ypur marauders requests could we get a sirius black x reader where its summer and theyre just enjoying their vacation or smth and sirius is like super flirty and maybeeee ge asks her to marry him bcuz he found like an old ring in a shop or smth😭 sry thats super random but i thought itd be cute, thank youuuu!😙

For You, My Dove.

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: This is so stinkin cute.

Warnings: some smoochin, mildly suggestive but 100% sfw.

Word Count: 0.9k

⛧ MARAUDERS MASTERLIST⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“Love?”

“Hmm?” You rolled over in the sand, smiling sleepily at Sirius who held out a bottle of sunscreen. 

“Come here. You’re going to burn, dove.” 

You scooched over, settling yourself in front of Siri who began to gently massage the sunscreen into your skin. The sun was high in the sky and beat down hard on the sea, warming it and making it shimmer like diamonds. It was sure to leave a nasty burn if you went too long without applying. When he was done, he pressed a long kiss to your temple and you leaned back into his chest where he then rested his chin atop of your head. The waves crashed against the shoreline noisily and people skipped past, diving in and out of the water or passing by barefoot as the sand sifted between their toes. It was busy, but Siri couldn’t tear his eyes off of you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmured. Your cheeks flushed and you twisted to face him. “How did I get so lucky?”

You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m serious.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, flashing you one of his signature, charismatic and mischievous grins. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek before leaning in to kiss you, interlocking his lips with yours. Fingers pressing against his chest, you returned the kiss passionately. When Siri finally pulled away, his hand had trailed down to your waist and your free hand had inched to lay on top of it. 

“Don’t entice me, lovey.”

“Oops.”

He chuckled before rising to his feet and outstretching an arm, which you took, before he pulled you to your feet. Dusting off the sand, you glanced at the water. 

Without warning, you took off  towards it. “Race you!” You yelled back at Sirius.

He smirked, chasing after you. The water wasn’t very far away, but Sirius was much taller than you and very, very competitive, so he caught up with you in a few strides. What he did next however caught you completely off guard. Hooking his arm around your waist, he scooped you up and flung you over his shoulder. 

“Siri!” You cried out in surprise, hitting him playfully on the chest as you tried to get him to let you down. But he was set on his intention and was wading further out now, the water lapping at his thighs. 

“Put me down! I’m serious.”

“No…I am.”

“Siri!” You squealed as he continued out into the water before throwing you in. 

When you stood back up, gasping, you made a beeline for him splashing the water at him. “You bastard.”

“Oops.”

He dodged out of the way as you chased him. He retorted with the same childishness, mirroring the pure joy on your face as the pair of you splashed around. 

~

The air had grown cooler now that the sun had set. It wasn’t cold by any means, but there was a nip in the air that made little goosebumps prick up on your skin. Siri noticed this. 

“Chilly, Love?” He asked, rubbing his thumb over the back of the hand you had entwined with his.

After cooling off in the water the two of you decided to venture into the seaside town before grabbing a bite to eat. Each store was unique, full of handcrafted gifts or trinkets that glistened in the light. The two of you spent hours as you marvelled at everything, you had hardly noticed that the sun had begun to set until you deemed it time to walk back along the beach before heading back. It was much quieter now, with most people returning home or into the town for a bite to eat. 

“A little.” You shrugged. The temperature had dropped some, and the breeze was picking up a little; enough to make the trees waltz gently. 

“Here.” He slipped off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders. 

“You’ll get cold-” You tried to protest as he removed it. 

“I’ll be fine, Dove. Can’t have you getting cold now, can I? What kind of person would that make me,huh?”

You chuckled. “If you’re sure.”

“Always.” He interlinked his fingers again with yours and the two of you carried on walking until you stopped to take a picture of the sun and how it just simmered above the surface of the sea, surrounded by a plethora of colours. When you turned around to show him the picture, Sirius was on one knee. 

Sirius was nervous. You could see it in his eyes, but he hid it well with that charming look on his face as he gazed up at you. Enclosed in his hands was a black box and inside resting on the plush cushion was a delicate ring. 

“Y/N…” He started, taking your hand in his. “I’ve wanted to do this for a while. From the moment we met I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Your smile, your voice. All of you, you’re engraved within my very soul. And from the moment we met, you’ve always been there for me; through the good and the bad. I couldn’t ask for anything more. I’m the luckiest wizard alive. Y/N, will you marry me?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed, your heart swelling. Sirius slipped the ring onto your finger; it fit perfectly as though it had been crafted just for you. When he stood, Siri wrapped you up and pulled you into a kiss. 

“I love you so damn much.” He whispered. 

“And I love you more.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

MARAUDERS TAGS:

@hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @marauderfreaksblog

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

[doumadono]

Hello Dear Author,

I would like to state that I am a new follower and I already love your style and representation of the characters.

I don't know if your requests are open, but If it's not please feel free to not reply!

Can you do a Scenario or headconans for this.... whatever you prefer.

With Izuku or Bakugo or Shoto , whichever you prefer also.

With a reader who sometimes gets suddenly dizzy in summer because of the heat. Like sometimes her heart beat is fast and other times it quite low and she's unable to stand or talk because of dizziness, specially when they're outside, and how will they deal with her.

It's summer and the weather is too hot, and as a person who feels hot even during winter and the coldest weather, I can't with heat and I feel dizzy most of the time or when I stand up, The only thing that can save me is the AC🥹😭

Sorry for the long text.

Thank you in advance dear Author ❤️

Have a good day/night🩷

A/N: I've chosen to fulfill this request because I love boys, and the topic seemed interesting but in the future, kindly check my pinned post before dropping a request. Please note that I'm currently only accepting emergency requests. Any requests not labeled as emergencies are being immediately erased

MASTERLIST

Bakugo

Initially annoyed and frustrated by your dizzy spells in the heat.

Finds it hard to express his concern directly due to his temperamental nature.

Reluctantly keeps an eye on you during hot days, secretly worried.

Would never admit it, but he starts carrying a small water bottle for you.

If he notices you feeling dizzy, he might roll his eyes but will still help you find shade.

"Tch, can't even handle the damn weather... Here, drink this and sit down."

Shows tough love, but his concern becomes evident through his actions.

Keeps a close watch on you during outdoor activities, ready to intervene.

Might grumble, "Quit being such a hassle. Chill for a bit."

Surprisingly good at fanning you with a piece of paper or his own hand.

Secretly plans outdoor activities during cooler parts of the day to avoid your dizzy spells.

"I ain't gonna babysit you, but I'm not letting you pass out either."

Shoto

Observant and empathetic, notices your condition quickly.

Gently offers his arm for you to lean on when you're feeling dizzy.

Suggests finding a shaded area and doesn't mind if you want to rest for a while.

Always carries a small handheld fan or a damp cloth in his bag for your comfort.

"Don't worry, take your time. I'm here with you."

Keeps track of weather forecasts and suggests indoor activities on extremely hot days.

Will use his ice Quirk to create a comfortable temperature around you if necessary.

Takes note of patterns in your dizziness to anticipate and manage it better.

Offers his own water bottle without even having to be asked.

Asks gentle questions to understand how you're feeling during dizzy spells.

Suggests activities like strolling through air-conditioned museums on hot days.

His calming presence helps ease your dizziness when it occurs.

"Don't worry, I've got you. Let's find somewhere comfortable to sit."

Izuku

Immediately worried and wants to find a solution to help you manage the symptoms.

Researches the possible causes of your dizzy spells and preventive measures.

Encourages you to stay hydrated and offers water bottles regularly.

Carries a mini first aid kit with pain relievers and electrolyte packets.

Suggests taking breaks in air-conditioned areas to cool down.

"I read that staying hydrated and keeping a wet cloth on your forehead can help."

Will always have a backup plan in case you start feeling dizzy unexpectedly.

Shows deep concern, researching medical articles and talking to professionals.

Suggests keeping a diary of your symptoms to identify triggers more accurately.

Carries a small notebook with tips to manage your condition, just in case.

Offers to hold your hand during dizzy spells, to help steady you.

Comes up with innovative ideas like a handheld portable fan with a mister.

"I've been reading about different ways to manage this, let's try a few together."

Enthusiastically tries out relaxation techniques to help you stay calm during spells.

[magicshopaholic]

Fever Dream (Taehyung x OC)

Summary: Dressed in vintage Chanel, your and Taehyung's messy past comes back to haunt you.

Pairing: Taehyung x OC (feat. Jungkook)

Genre: Some fluff, angst

Word count: 9.1 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, if that

A/N: Here is the next installment of unedited fic series. Takes place a little over a month after A Day in the Life.

Tagging: @bbl32, @quarter-life-crisis2, @margopinkerton, @faearchives, @whoisbts, @purpleseoul7, @kflixnet (if you want to be added to the taglist, lmk)

Listen to: "free fallin'" by john mayer

taehyung masterlist| main masterlist

Dilara [11:40] Hey babe. Reached?

Tae [11:40] Just about. Wow, it’s been really long since I’ve been to one of these. Forgot how chaotic it is.

Dilara [11:41] Tell me about it. Everyone’s impossibly good-looking.

Tae [11:42] Really? Did you just walk by a mirror or something?

Dilara [11:42] Save some of that charm for tonight, pretty boy.

Tae [11:43] See you in a few, pretty girl.

Dilara slips into the ladies’ room facing the mirror over the basins and exhaling. The flight and drive were long enough, but she seems to be the only person showing signs of it. It helps to have Taehyung nearby, though, even if actual time together seems limited.

She needs to be back out there, though, letting the crew know and get started on whatever PR they have planned. Fluffing out her curly hair and noting how the curls seem to have set nicely for once, she rummages in her bag for a last minute spritz of perfume and swipe of lipstick.

As she searches, one of the stalls behind her opens and she hears the sound of another sigh. It’s gratifying, she reflects, to not be the only one feeling overwhelmed. 

“It’s quite a crowd outside.”

Dilara chuckles, finally locating the tiny travel-size bottle of Zara’s Nude Bouquet and taking off the cap. “Tell me about it,” she mutters, straightening up and spraying it on her neck and the inside of her wrists. “Felt like I needed to escape.”

The other girl laughs lightly, and Dilara glances at her in the mirror. Her long black hair falls down her shoulders but she looks familiar - Dilara immediately thinks of Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend and the image sticks.

“I get that,” she agrees, and her voice is soft, almost musical. “Wow, that’s a nice scent. Where is it from?”

“Oh, it’s Zara.” Without thinking anything of it, Dilara offers it to her. “Want to try?”

The girl straightens up as well and turns to her - it’s not Charles’s girlfriend - and gasps mildly. “It’s such a coincidence - I think I packed my cosmetics in the wrong bag and they all reached my hotel. You really don’t mind?”

Dilara shakes her head wordlessly. Impossibly good-looking. But she can’t look away.

Jennie smiles gratefully and takes the slim bottle, spraying it in the same spots Dilara did and returning it. “Thank you. It’s been a long flight.”

“And a long drive from the airport.”

“I know.” She pauses. “You look kind of familiar, by the way. I’m picturing a Polaroid… I feel like we’ve met?”

“Oh, uh…” Dilara shakes her head, turning back to this basin to wash her hands, barely able to feel the cool water. “No. We haven’t.”

“Oh. I’m Jennie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Dilara.”

“That’s a pretty name. Where is it -” A phone ringing interrupts her and she winces, apologetically checking her phone. “Sorry, I have to go. Maybe I’ll see you later tonight.”

Dilara forces half a smile. “Maybe.” 

Jennie gives her a small wave and leaves. For a moment, nothing happens. Dilara fluffs out her hair and checks her phone out of habit before frowning, realising she can’t remember if she washed her hands. The water feels cooler now and she squeezes out some of the floral-smelling lotion next to soap, rubbing it over her hands.

It’s time to head out. The impossibly good-looking people aren’t going anywhere and Dilara is technically working. As she reaches the door, her phone buzzes.

Tae [11:50] Can you tell me where you are? I need to talk to you.

—

It seems likely to be a huge event. The marquee spans what looks like half an acre at least, under which two dozen tables with designer chairs and sparkly, minimalist place settings are spread out. Flex boards are strategically placed with who are probably the most famous Korean celebrities in attendance, the low stage is a shiny black and the few non-Korean guests stick out, although not in an unpleasant way. The guest list and event decor is no surprise - it is a Samsung event after all.

Dilara spots Taehyung walking past a camera with Jimin, only the latter waving. He looks… distracted, despite the smooth and impassive expression. They stop under the shade where he takes off his sunglasses, frowning slightly in the afternoon sun. Her gaze falls lower, to the band of his trousers to his hand in his pockets, and the shape tells her they are balled into fists.

Dodging one of the impossibly good-looking people, this one a vaguely familiar person - probably an actress - Dilara stops some ways away from Taehyung and Jimin, directly opposite them. It won’t take long now, for his eyes are darting around anyway, until they find hers and his forehead clears. 

Dilara holds his gaze for a moment before turning around and beginning to walk. She isn’t exactly sure where to; most of the signs are written in Korean with the English translations in smaller font. 

But she continues without stopping, her pace mild and stance casual, her arms folded across her chest. Somewhere along the way, her peripheral vision catches Taehyung on the opposite side of the path, one hand still in his pocket as he saunters with grace.

They turn together, coincidentally, down a path to a huge trailer. The gigantic Big Hit logo, combined with the confidence with which Taehyung strides in, tells her exactly whose it is. Few staff members scatter as he pushes open the door and stands aside to let her in, not speaking until it’s closed and they’re alone.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak but pauses, as though changing tacks at the last second. “Hi,” he says, a hint of a smile spreading across his features.

It’s been three weeks since they’ve seen each other, she recalls only now. “Hey,” she replies, although it comes across as a bit of a sigh.

He steps towards her, a bit hesitant, before placing one arm around her waist and gently bringing her to him and hugging her. He kisses her on the cheek. “Missed you,” he whispers, his lips on her hair.

Dilara’s hands go around him automatically, but it’s hard to focus. Or there’s too much focus - she can’t tell. It takes her a moment, but she nods into his shoulder, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the first whiffs of his Sauvage, always the best ones.

“Missed you, too,” she murmurs. Her hands tighten around his t-shirt, momentarily clutching them tight before she forces herself to step away.

Taehyung touches her cheek, allowing himself another fond gesture before dropping his hand to his side. He glances at the floor and for a brief fraction of a second, a pit of fury takes form in her stomach. 

It disappears almost instantly, though. Taehyung swallows and looks up. “Look, I have to tell you something. When we reached and got out of the car, there was a short briefing and one of the producers mentioned that -“

“Jennie is here.”

Taehyung’s face goes slack. “Wait, you knew? How? Did Calvin Klein tell you or was it like a - how do you say it? A memo?”

“Calvin Klein is not going to send anyone a memo of Jennie’s travel plans. No, I - I ran into her in the ladies’ room,” she answers. He doesn’t respond immediately and Dilara bites her lip; she feels like she should say more.

“You… ran into her?” Taehyung’s voice is almost hushed. “Like, you saw her or -“

“I stood next to her. We talked about how long our flights were and then she borrowed my perfume.”

Dilara can’t blame Taehyung for looking slightly incredulous. It sounds like a fever dream when she says it out loud. Wildly, it occurs to her that for the next few hours at least, she and Jennie Kim will smell the same.

Evidently, he decides not to probe. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

“Mhm.”

“Because… I swear, I had no idea she would be here.”

“I know.”

“If I did, I would’ve told you as soon as I -“

“I know. I believe you.”

His eyes flicker and the relief is unmissable. “Good,” he murmurs. 

Dilara looks away, anywhere; the look in his eyes, of anxiety, worry, guilt - it’s a rabbit hole she doesn’t want to go down right now. There’s no place in her mind right now, or in her heart, for anything more than the effort to not make this a big deal. 

“I should go,” she says after a moment. “I need to meet my team and then they have me selecting a dress or something for tonight.” She moves to leave.

His response is immediate. “Lara, are you -”

“I am,” she interrupts, not turning around but stopping in her tracks. “Look, it’s…” It’s weird. It feels like the understatement of the year, or it should be, but she truthfully can’t think of what else it is. “It’s fine,” she says finally, looking back at him briefly. He looks concerned and it’s not what she wants to see. “You’re… all in the same industry. And we’ve moved on.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “Okay. Will, uh… will we see each other before the event?”

Dilara shrugs. “Depends. You’ll probably have to get ready here,” she guesses, and his shoulders falling tell her she’s correct. “Tonight. Later.” Before he can respond, she leaves.

—

Jungkook [13:30] Okay wait. What about these? [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture] [picture]

Dilara [13:31] Um I dunno. The second looks fine.

Jungkook [13:31] Really? It’s not too extra?

Dilara [13:32] Facial piercings are the definition of extra.

Jungkook [13:32] Well that’s why I want a subtle eyebrow piercing. It can’t just be about the tattoos all the time.

Dilara [13:33] Fine, so second.

Jungkook [13:34] Reallyyyyy? I kinda liked the third.

Dilara [13:34] Then go with the third. It’s your face, not mine. Well, yours and Big Hit’s. Are they really okay with their chocolate boy going emo punk right after tour?

Jungkook [13:35] Fuck them. It’s my choice. So third? Actually what do you think about the fourth? With the sapphire stud?

Dilara sighs and lowers her phone. Jungkook’s indecisiveness, while sometimes endearing, is not something she can appreciate right now. It had taken all her will and ability to compartmentalise to get through her video segment a little while ago: Off Track: Get Ready with Dilara Komyshan! 

She still has hours to get ready; the filming made no sense. Neither does the layout of the ground, in her opinion, for there are people arriving from three different entry points. It seems stupid and not very well thought out at all, and Dilara just knows it will cause confusion once the event actually begins.

Taking a sip of the canned grapefruit drink she’d picked up from one of the tables, she winces. It’s sugary sweet and, she suspects, not even real fruit. But there were no other options and she was thirsty. Looking around to check if the coast is clear, she tosses it into a nearby bin. Her phone buzzes again and she closes her eyes. 

Damn it, Jungkook. Just get the damn piercing.

Jungkook [13:38] Still there? I was thinking, maybe you were right about the second. Oxidised silver is kind of classic and really makes the whole thing stand out. What do you think?

Dilara [13:40] You know, I really don’t think I’m the best person to advise you here. When I was in school, I had a thing for guys with lip piercings, so what do I know?

Just as she navigates away from WhatsApp, she hears a rustle and whips around.

“Sorry!” A young man, carrying a laptop, two clipboards and a cup of coffee stumbles into her little alcove away from the main event. He says something else in Korean before looking up and noticing her, and his eyes flash in recognition. “Dilara Komyshan!” he blurts out, his face slightly red.

“Uh, yes -” She darts forward to catch his cup as it slips out of his hand, no doubt saving it from spilling all over his clean white trousers.

“Oh, thank you,” he breathes, panting slightly. “It’s been a crazy day and I’ve fucked up - oh, God, I think I’m going to get fired today!” He dumps his belongings onto a table between them and shakes his head, apparently inviting himself to her solitary rendezvous.

If Dilara had to guess, he sounds Canadian. Not knowing if she’s meant to respond, she nods in what she hopes is a sympathetic way, hoping he’s busy enough to leave soon. To her surprise, he leans back against a tree on the other side of the table and fishes around in his pocket, retrieving a pack of cigarettes.

Dilara’s fingers twitch unexpectedly. “Mind if I bump one?”

He raises his eyebrows. “You smoke?”

Shit. “It’s been a crazy day for me, too,” she confesses. “Maybe we can keep each other’s fuck-ups between us?”

He half-chuckles and offers the pack to her. “Dan,” he says, handing her a lighter as well.

“Dilara.” She lights her cig and takes a drag, returning the lighter. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

The nicotine feels a bit stifling on a sunny afternoon, but there’s something mildly comforting about it, too. The only downside of it, she realises, is that it’s opened the door for this Dan individual to take her quip to heart and begin baring his soul to her.

“It’s ridiculous, honestly,” he vents passionately, “because they really shouldn’t give access to things to one person, you know? Not when that person doesn’t understand responsibility or - or commitment to a team, and quits a week before an event. Who does that? Right? I mean - you of all people would understand,” he declares, pointing to her suddenly. “You’re in Red Bull - wouldn’t you commit to your team until the very end?”

Dilara stares, unsure how she’s expected to answer, for Christian Horner would probably tear up her contract and eat the pieces if Max Verstappen demanded it.

“I - sure. Yeah.”

“Exactly.” He shakes his head, his face still red. “It’s just really overwhelming. There’s a lot to do and we’re one guy short and… God, I don’t even want to get into what happened earlier today.” 

He pauses, as though waiting for her to ask. Dilara, looking straight ahead, doesn’t take the bait, silently taking another drag. Next to her, Dan is almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, seeming more flustered than ever.

“Someone accidentally wiped out the version history of our seating chart after making changes to it - bam, it’s out there.” He says the whole thing very quickly and exhales shakily. “And it could… technically be considered my fault - and only technically - because I was the last one to use it but if you really think about it, it’s - it’s really poor planning because - I mean, Google Sheets? In this day and age? And the only person who knew it by heart and - and who was in charge of it -  quit last week. With no warning. And now we’re having to wing it, which brings me back to the whole teamwork thing, so you tell me, you know. Who is really at fault…”

Dilara presses her fingers to her temple, wishing he would leave, for this isn’t worth the clandestine cigarette. He continues venting and she tries to tune him out.

“You’re table six, though, right?” His somewhat frantic voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Uh… I’m not sure. I wasn’t told what table I’d be at,” she mutters, glancing at him to see him peering into his laptop screen. The brightness is at full blast and she can see a Google Sheet open, the first two cells labelled “이름/Name” and “테이블/Table” with numerous names written similarly in Korean and English, and all the table numbers in Arabic numerals. She recognises some names: Kim Namjoon stands out, as does Jang Wonyoung, Sydney Sweeney, Jennie Kim…

“Oh, God - it’s frozen!”

Dan hammers at the refresh button but the cursor turns into a blue circle and he makes a choking sound between a cry and a groan. At that moment, his phone rings and he visibly gulps at the screen. “I have to - I have to take this,” he stutters to no one in particular, answering it and backing away, raising a hand to Dilara in apology before disappearing.

Dilara raises her eyebrows and mimics his movement, privately glad for a moment of peace. She can’t listen to his complaints about the event any longer. It seemed like an excruciatingly boring event from the beginning and she’s already rather preoccupied, thinking of all the practice on the SIM she could have squeezed in this weekend if it weren’t for this stupid event.

The laptop screen is unrelentingly bright; blinking a bit, she taps the key to lower it. Frowning, she moves the mouse to see it working perfectly. Rolling her eyes, she leans to the side to look for Dan.

“Mate, your screen is responding again,” she says, but there’s no answer. In fact, she can’t even hear him anymore. 

Maybe he jumped, Taehyung would say, seriously and without expression, maintaining it even when others would chuckle.

She scrolls absently to search for his name. Cha Eunwoo, Alia Bhatt, Jeon Jungkook… she spots her own name, a brief moment of relief to see she will have at least one familiar face at her table. Then, a little while later, Kim Taehyung.

He had looked so… concerned for her today. Anxious. All the casual confidence he’d retained for the rest of the world had fallen away to reveal the moments of vulnerability he reserved for her. She can’t recall at this moment how it usually makes her feel, for today, she couldn’t turn away fast enough.

Dan returns a minute later, just as Dilara is leaving.

“Thanks for the cig,” she says, giving him a small wave.

“You’re welcome. Oh - it’s working again!” He lets out a low whistle, running his finger across the mousepad. “Thank God. Well - it was really nice to meet you. Big fan.”

“You, too. Good luck with your seating chart.”

—

It’s late afternoon when the guests begin assembling by the grounds, everyone poised to make an entrance on the “pink carpet”, a peach-coloured path curving towards the marquee. The sky is a melange of grey and pink and orange, a very light breeze giving the event the vibe of an upscale wine-tasting.

Taehyung, dressed in an off-white linen suit with his hair left loose and freshly washed so it may “go where the wind pleases” (his stylist’s words, not his), speaks into a mic as he answers the interviewer’s questions, glancing occasionally into the camera as he does.

“And will you be hoping to meet any friends here tonight?” the interviewer asks chirpily.

“Of course - I’ve already seen many people I know here, so I’m sure we’ll all have a good time tonight.” He smiles after this perfunctory, scripted answer, before giving her a nod of acknowledgement and making way for the next celebrity behind him. 

It had been the company’s idea to have them make separate entrances, given Seokjin and Yoongi were not attending, so as to not make the group look smaller. As he heads inside, waving at some of the cameras and some lucky fans who’ve managed to get access to the outer areas of the grounds, he takes the opportunity to let his eyes roam around the crowd and the guests, hoping to spot Dilara.

They haven’t seen each other since their fleeting moment earlier today. He had managed to maneuver a way out of one of their filmings to head back to the hotel, hoping they would cross paths before she had to get ready. While she had left him a short message saying she would try, evidently the timings hadn’t worked out and they’d missed each other.

At least, Taehyung hopes it was the timings. He can’t exactly blame Dilara for being a little on edge today, possibly a little distant, but the only solution he can come up with is to be with her, be there for her, maybe show her however he can that she doesn’t need to be on edge at all.

She hasn’t arrived yet, though; a little disappointed, Taehyung turns his attention to the artfully adorned tables, realising he has no idea which one to sit at.

“Check the name cards.” Jimin sidles up next to him and points at the thick cards in little tents at every seat, anywhere between six and ten at each table.

“Found mine,” says Namjoon, who’d entered a minute before Taehyung, holding up a card at a table right in the front. “Hobi’s is here, too.”

“Hang on, are we all not together?” Taehyung asks nobody in particular, frowning.

From behind him, another idol shakes his head, overhearing the question. “Nah, doesn’t look like it,” says Chan, peering at the name cards as well. “They probably don’t want to draw attention to idol groups, I guess?”

People are starting to take their seat, having to check name cards everywhere. A few people who look like they are event management have scurried over, helping guests, the whole thing becoming slightly chaotic.

Taehyung finds himself hoping that he and Dilara might be at the same table, if it’s indeed at random. He begins searching for both their names, but Jimin gets there first.

“Found Dilara,” he mouths, catching Taehyung’s eye meaningfully. “Oh, and Jungkook is at this table, too,” he adds in a regular volume.

“Anyone else?” Taehyung asks hopefully, trying not to be too disappointed when Jimin shakes his head. He counts it lucky that Dilara still has Jungkook, at least one familiar face at an event that’s mostly strangers to her.

Jungkook isn’t here yet either; he’d be recording a demo with Yoongi in the hotel room despite the latter not attending the event, and would probably reach just in time for it to start.

“Oh, wait - Jimin!” Taehyung calls, holding up a card. “Here’s yours.”

“Oh, great. Who else is here… dude, so are you!” Almost diametrically opposite the circular table, Jimin holds up a card with Taehyung’s name. “Awesome!” 

Taehyung grins and they high-five at waist-level before taking their seats, Jimin continuing to scan the other cards. “I don’t know who this is… oh, this is the actress from Snowdrop, right? I think it is… and - oh.” Jimin looks up at Taehyung, and it’s an expression Taehyung immediately takes note of.

“What?”

“Do you know who else is at this table?” he asks in a hushed voice, leaning over and glancing at the entrance surreptitiously. 

Taehyung knows before Jimin subtly turns the card towards him, with the name of a guest to be seated directly between both of them. Jennie Kim, the card reads, equally calligraphic in Hangul and English.

There’s an announcement of some kind, a muffled voice asking guests to take their seats quickly. Taehyung turns towards the entrance, his heart somewhere near his stomach and jerking uncomfortably, hoping to see Dilara and wondering if he can signal to her to meet him… his eyes dart around, a bit frantic. It takes him a moment to realise another familiar face is making its way… in his direction.

“Taehyung hyung.” Jungkook strides over and taps his shoulder, motioning for him to get up, stepping away from the table. Taehyung meets Jimin’s eyes briefly, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook presses his tongue to his teeth. “Do you know -” He looks around and lowers his voice to a whisper, “- that your ex-girlfriend is here?”

“Yes,” he answers instantly. “And I can do you one better. Do you know where she’s -”

Jungkook interrupts him. “Does Dilara know?”

Taehyung stops abruptly. “Uh, yeah. I told her this morning. Or - I guess she already knew….” He trails off when he finally sees Dilara enter along with the last few guests, finding her table almost instantly. His shoulders relax when she catches his eye; he gives her the most subtle smile he can, knowing there are cameras around that could be capturing his any and every move. To his surprise and relief, she returns his look with a small smile. “Listen -”

“Holy shit,” whispers Jungkook, looking at something over Taehyung’s shoulder. He smiles briefly and gives a small wave before turning back to him. “She’s at your table?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

“Apparently. Look, it’s a coincidence from hell, but can you do me a favour? You and Lara are the same table - can you just tell her -”

“How?”

“How - what?” Taehyung frowns, realising by now that they are one of the few people still standing. “What do you think coincidence means? I didn’t have any part in this - but can you just please tell her that I’m sorry anyway? I’ll still text her, but… please.”

Jungkook, who seems to be regretting his momentary outburst, nods wordlessly before turning around and heading over to his table, sitting only one seat away from Dilara, both of them giving each other extremely perfunctory, polite camera-ready smiles of acknowledgement.

Taehyung tries, once more, to turn around and catch Dilara’s eye but when Jimin hisses his name under his breath, he’s forced to look ahead as the host arrives on stage. There’s some applause and introductory jokes being made; it’s not a lot he can do to avoid it, not when there are cameras around or when the seating arrangement is so awesomely fucked that the moment he turns his head even slightly to his right, he meets Jennie’s eyes.

“Hi,” she says quietly, giving him a formal sort of smile. “How are you?”

For a fleeting moment, he wonders if he can pretend to have not heard her. But even the thought is absurd. “I’m good,” he replies, nodding. “And you?”

She nods in response and the small talk comes to a natural end, at least for now. The event may as well be happening in French for all the focus that Taheyung devotes to it; choosing his moments, he tries to subtly turn his head to look back at Dilara’s table again. At one point, he sees her chatting with the person next to her, the captain of South Korea’s football team. It makes him feel slightly better that she has company; next to the footballer, Jungkook cranes his neck slightly towards them, as though trying to keep up with the conversation.

Somewhere during one of the musical performances, Taehyung feels his phone buzz. He opens it to see the group chat.

Namjoon [18:17] Taehyung. Cut it out.

Taehyung [18:18] What?

Namjoon [18:18] Turning around to look at Dilara. It’s very noticeable.

Taehyung [18:19] Shit. Sorry.  How can you tell, though? Your table is in front of mine.

Hoseok [18:20] Because only Namjoon has figured out a way to turn around and look at something behind him without being obvious about it.

Taehyung [18:20] Sorry. A bit on edge.

Jimin [18:20] Lol. No surprise there.

Taehyung [18:20] Shut up. Can you tell if Dilara is looking? 

Jimin [18:21] She isn’t. Jungkook is, though. Probably hasn’t checked his phone yet.

Seokjin [18:22] What is up with all the texts? I’m trying to take a nap.

Jimin [18:22] Taehyung is sitting next to Jennie while Dilara is at a different table.

Seokjin [18:22] What!

Taehyung [18:23] Not what it sounds like. Jesus. Our assigned seats are next to each other.

Hoseok [18:23] Dilara is going to kill you.

Taehyung [18:24] No, she isn’t. She’s not crazy - she knows this is out of my control.

Yoongi [18:25] Hell of a coincidence to be out of your control.

Seokjin [18:26] No kidding. This is k-drama level coincidental. Next thing you know, the camera pans to your mortal enemy slipping a wad of cash into a waiter’s hand.

Namjoon [18:27] We may be going off topic here. Taehyung - be careful, though. If anyone gets a single shot of you and Jennie sitting together, it’ll start rumours without a doubt again. And you know YG won’t deny them.

Taehyung pauses, for this hasn’t occurred to him. Not that it’s some kind of epiphany - rumours are a daily battle, almost - but today, Dilara has been his sole focus throughout. 

He meant what he said: his girlfriend is a reasonable person who, despite some expected discomfort with the situation, is not the kind of filmy exaggeration they were hinting at. But the fact that this might make its way back to social media again, a year and a half after the world has lost interest, following Dilara wherever in the world she goes… he recalls the lowest points of their relationship, looks of heartbreak and betrayal that still haunt him to this day, and his throat feels momentarily tight.

Taehyung [18:28] I will deny them. You can be sure of that.

“Camera!” 

Jennie’s voice hisses next to him, almost making him jump out of his skin. He slips his phone under his thigh in a swift movement, eyes ahead and immediately bopping his head to the music to avoid whatever rubbish headline the wrong picture could lead to: BTS V insults rookie girl group by checking phone during performance!

“Thanks,” he mutters, seeing her nod from the corner of his eye.

As the night progresses, Taehyung makes his attempts to look back at Dilara more subtle but no less frequent. He succeeds a couple of times, too, once even managing to make eye contact with her. Her expression is unreadable, though, and he begins wondering if this is truly bothering her, how much it is, and how there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

“Everything okay?”

“Mhm.”

It’s a break in the program, during which a few people are going back and forth to the rest rooms, getting their hair and make-up retouched and doing impromptu spot interviews. Taehyung and the rest of the group have been advised by the staff via text to not leave their seats; as he looks around, it seems as though most people are in a similar boat. 

He turns around to look at Dilara, only to see her seat vacant and - to his surprise - Jungkook staring back at him, brows furrowed. He frowns curiously but the younger member looks away in an instant. Taehyung wonders briefly if he imagined it; raising his eyebrows and shrugging it off, he unlocks his phone.

Taehyung [19:00] Hey, love. I know this night probably isn’t what you had in mind after three weeks apart. It definitely isn’t mine. I promise I’ll make this trip worth it, though. I really missed you.

Biting his lip, he sends the message. He waits for a few seconds for a reply, turning around to check the door. She eventually returns, catching his eye and giving him the same small smile she’d given him at the beginning of the event, as though they were lounging around in his apartment instead. She says something to Jungkook when the anchor begins speaking again, signalling the end of the break.

Lara [19:02] Missed you too

Taehyung stares at the message, not sure what to make out of it. He’s sensing some distance from her; it’s not unexpected and he wishes more than anything that he’d been able to talk to her, just once, before everyone had taken their seats. He turns around briefly again, hoping Jungkook relayed his message to her.

“Shit,” Jennie mutters next to him. Catching his eye momentarily, she tilts her phone under the table towards him. Taehyung’s heart sinks at the picture, taken from a distance, of the two of them watching the stage, their heads tilted in the same angle.

It’s a normal picture, with at least ten other people in the same frame including Jimin; but the incriminating red circle drawn into the picture makes it clear what the focus is. The fact that it’s already on Instagram makes his stomach roll with worry and guilt, and he hopes, desperately hopes, that it won’t affect Dilara after all this time.

“Tabloids will start their thing,” she adds, shaking her head. “The company will be so annoyed. What about Big Hit?”

“I don’t know,” he replies truthfully, after a moment. He hasn’t thought about it; Namjoon mentioned it in caution and here he was, correct as usual. Big Hit would be annoyed; a recycled rumour, micro-expressions getting dissected and heartbroken fans spamming their social media - none of these were desired during an ongoing tour.

Taehyung knows it’s a headache and if not handled properly, could escalate. It could impact concert attendance, merchandise sales, fan-meets… but these are just words right now, swimming in his head in a faint voice that sounds like their manager’s. Bigger than all that, in the forefront of his mind is only Dilara, once again forced to remember the worst period of their relationship.

“I can’t believe this seating,” he mutters. “I thought the bigger the event, the more tuned in they would be to… stuff like this.” He gives her a sideways glance.

But Jennie gives him a small shake of the head. “I doubt it’s on purpose. I heard there was some confusion with the tables anyway… their system was down or something.” 

“Feels irresponsible.” Then he sighs. “No offence.”

She half-chuckles under her breath and locks her phone. “None taken. It’s been over a year, anyway. I don’t think there’s a single person who remembers or cares about our fling anymore.”

It’s almost compulsive now; he turns around again. Dilara’s eyes are fixed on the stage, though, but he takes a moment to watch her anyway, feeling every variation of guilt and anxiety and adoration when he thinks of how her evening might be going.

“Is that Jungkook?” Jennie whispers next to him. “I should say hi later. Oh, I met the girl sitting next to - oh, shit.” She clicks her tongue softly in apparent recognition. “That’s where I know her from - she did the sportswear campaign for Calvin Klein last month. Dilara Komyshan, the race car driver,” she states. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognise her before - I must really need some sleep…”

There is something inexplicably strange about hearing Dilara’s name come out of Jennie’s mouth. He expects Dilara would find it even stranger; he bites his lip and faces the front again.

“… do you know her?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond, but evidently his silence and laser focus on the glass in front of him is enough explanation.

“Oh,” says Jennie softly, and Taehyung’s heart crumbles a little, suddenly horribly, terribly afraid that everything would be ruined again.

The performance on the stage ends and there’s applause. Taehyung claps automatically, without feeling. Next to him, Jennie turns her head slightly towards him.

“I only met her for a minute… but she seems really sweet. And very pretty.” She gives him a small smile. “Lucky guy.”

—

When the event ends and the anchor announces the dinner being hosted in the hotel restaurant, everyone begins heading out of the marquee and back down the carpet. There are some quick interviews and pictures, mostly of celebrities ducking into cars and leaving. Taehyung hopes he can skip the dinner - or at least make an appearance, have half a drink and be done with it. 

Namjoon [19:50]

Group vlive in 20. Yoongi’s room.

He closes his eyes; the last thing he feels like doing is pretending to be chipper for a camera, while staff members stand behind it and cue reactions out of them. But the message is in the group chat, meaning the set-up is probably already done, and any interaction with Dilara will unfortunately have to wait.

Taehyung could yell; it’s bad enough that this weekend threw this unnecessary curveball at them but the constant interruptions are getting on his nerves. The impending rumours, the company’s reaction (fuck the company, he thinks irritably), the faraway tables - anything and everything under the sun to try and distract him from the only thing he cares about. 

He doesn’t want to drop her another text to tell her about his plans; he has to meet Dilara now, actually be face to face, see her, hold her hand and talk to her before he does anything else, even if it’s only for a few seconds. 

Taehyung [19:53] Hey. Where are you?

He waits a minute but she doesn’t respond. Unwilling to wait, he starts to call her when he finally spots her across the room, standing with three other people, all of them listening to a tall Caucasian and vaguely familiar man in a suit. Dilara has a glass of champagne in her hand and is a complete knockout; elegant in a short cream dress, she reduces him to staring for a good few seconds before he remembers where he is.

Almost as though she’s heard him, her eyes flicker a bit and meet his. His heart skips a beat; as he steps forward, she gives him that same small smile and shakes her head infinitesimally. She slips her phone out of her small clutch and turns away to type, a few seconds before his phone buzzes.

Lara [19:55] Have to stay for dinner. Meet you upstairs later. xo

The disappointment starts to settle into his stomach but he steels himself; they’re both working and if she says she’ll see him upstairs, then there’s nothing much else he can do except hope that her nonchalant demeanour isn’t a facade she’s putting up for him.

The vlive is a chaotic one for which Taehyung is glad; he’s preoccupied but there’s enough happening without the focus landing on him. Seokjin and Yoongi, both of whom managed to worm their way out of attending the event, are still at the hotel, the only two in t-shirts and joggers. Taehyung checks his phone constantly, wondering when Dilara will be back, only occasionally smiling and throwing in a comment here and there so he can’t be accused of slacking off.

“Alright, have a good one.” Namjoon waves and heads towards his room on the other side of Yoongi’s. Waving back, Jungkook and Taehyung head towards theirs, a two bedroom suite they’re sharing with Jimin, conveniently to allow for Dilara to stay over.

“What a fuckall night,” mutters Taehyung, kicking off his shoes by the front door and shrugging off his linen jacket. He checks his phone again: no new messages.

“What were you thinking?”

Taehyung opens the mini fridge and takes out a small bottle of whiskey and a cold bottle of water. “About what?” he asks without looking up, mixing himself a drink.

“You know what.” Jungkook says no more until Taehyung finally turns to look at him, frowning. “You were sitting with - with Jennie. All night.” He shakes his head. “Come on - you have to know what that looked like.”

Taehyung scoffs. “I don’t care what social media thinks. They overanalyse everything to death, anyway.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “Not them. I’m talking about Dilara.” 

His heart jerks momentarily. “Did she say something?”

“She - she didn’t have to,” he stutters. He looks quite nervous. “I could see her face - she was sitting right next to me.”

Taehyung raises his eyebrows and takes a sip of his drink. “And what did her face look like?” he asks deliberately, for the accusatory note in Jungkook’s voice is now unmistakeable.

“I - well, she looked… not happy,” he answers lamely, rubbing the back of his neck. While Taehyung’s gaze is fixed on him, Jungkook’s keeps flickering away. “She kept looking over at you two and… I mean, it’s obvious, right? Of course she wouldn’t like it.”

“She would also know, though, that it was a coincidence,” he retorts, calm yet unable to keep the bite out of his words. “And that I definitely didn’t know about it - which, by the way, I asked you to tell her. Did you?”

Jungkook hesitates. “Of course, I did. I’m just saying… you could’ve done something. You were talking to Jennie. Out, in the open with, like, no problem.”

“We were in public. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her when she spoke to me? Create a scene and ask to be moved to a different table?” Taehyung scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, that would’ve turned out great.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not fair to -”

“How is it not the point? This situation was out of my control. I was texting Dilara the whole time - and she was responding. And she didn’t sound half as pissed off as you do,” he points out. “Why do you even care so much?”

“Because I made her a promise!” Jungkook blurts out, his ears turning red, eyes big and troubled.

“You made her a promise? What - today?”

“No, last year. Before you two got back together,” he says in a smaller voice, and Taehyung’s stomach drops. “I promised her I’d tell her if you ever did anything like that again.”

Taehyung is silent. The drink feels heavy in his hand but he doesn’t move. It feels strange, like a shift in the paradigm of his relationships, as though a glass wall has been lifted and they’re all further away than he thought.

Jungkook seems to have realised the implication of his words. “Not that… I thought you would ever do that again.” He sounds like he’s about to say more but stops abruptly.

It stings. The long days and nights spent atoning for what he’d done, the hopelessness at the end of every day in Europe that he’d probably lost her for good, all stacked against the voices of his friends telling him, convincing him he wasn’t a bad person and that if he tried, if he truly tried and stayed and loved, he would be worthy of a second chance.

As it turns out, they weren’t sure either. Once a cheater, always a cheater. He wonders if Dilara still thinks that, and feels his vision blur momentarily. 

He clears his throat, slowly meeting Jungkook’s eyes. “Anything else?” he asks. “Since you made her a promise?”

“Taehyung hyung…”

But Taehyung continues staring him down, unmoving until Jungkook sighs.

“No,” he says quietly. 

Taehyung nods and finishes the remainder of his drink. Without another word, he places the glass on the table and heads into his room, leaving Jungkook outside.

—

The dinner goes on longer than Dilara would have liked, but the CEO of Tag Heuer, Red Bull’s biggest sponsor, is not a guest she could have avoided face time with. Christian had even taken the trouble to drop her a message (Try to get a picture with Frederic for the PR team), so her options were fairly limited.

Using the spare room key Taehyung had sneaked her during a brief, five second long interaction this afternoon, she enters the suite and goes straight into the room with the door closed. It’s empty at first glance, but the faint scent of nicotine directs her to the balcony.

Taehyung is sitting on the cushioned bench, still in the shirt and trousers he was wearing for the event, looking slightly ruffled and smoking a cigarette. Dilara stops at the doorway and leans against it, stepping out of her heels and closing her eyes against the breeze.

“How was the dinner?” he asks after a few seconds.

“Boring,” she answers. She opens her eyes to see him still looking out of the balcony. “How was your night?”

He simply shrugs. “I’m sorry about the… the tables and the seating,” he says after a moment, finally looking up at her. “I don’t know how that happened.”

Dilara bites her lip. There’s a choice she can make now, and the second option can probably lead to salvaging the remainder of the night. But something about how he’s sitting, some distance away and instantly apologising, makes her go with the first.

“Well… if you can believe it…” She sighs and looks at the ground, suddenly a bit embarrassed to be saying it out loud, “it may not have been… a total coincidence.”

Taehyung frowns slightly at her and when she raises her eyebrows, silently asking him to understand without her having to say it, he scoffs lightly.

“Really?” His voice is soft, but the surprise is clear. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she mutters. “You’d be surprised how lax the organisers were with information like this. Leaving open laptops around and venting to strangers…” She rolls her eyes.

He chuckles again softly. He takes a drag and flicks some ash from the cigarette, looking down, his smile fading before he speaks again. “Why?” he asks.

Dilara hesitates, her heart clenching slightly. “I’m not sure,” she admits. “I guess I just wanted to see…” She pictures the earlier hours of the evening, seeing her boyfriend and his ex-girlfriend sitting next to each other, but doesn’t feel the familiar anger or betrayal anymore. In fact, she struggles to feel anything at all. “I don’t know,” she finishes.

Taehyung nods slowly but says nothing. He finishes his cigarette and takes a deep breath. 

“Are you angry?” she asks.

Still looking out, he pokes his tongue into his cheek. “I don’t think I can be,” he says carefully.

Dilara swallows. “I suppose that’s true,” she agrees, a little defensively.

“How did I do, though?”

“What do you mean?”

Taehyung turns to her, finally. “I mean… I’m guessing it was some kind of a test.” He shrugs. “How did I do? Did I pass?”

Dilara holds his gaze, realising with a slightly pang that it’s the first time they’ve spoken this long since this morning. “With flying colours,” she says softly.

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. There’s a flicker in his eyes, probably of relief, before he looks away. Dilara knows with certainty, though, in this moment, that he really did pass whatever subconscious evaluation she had been putting him through. 

Every single interaction she had spotted between him and Jennie, every quiet bit of small talk, artfully ignoring cameras, looking beautifully bored at an event that was far too long for everyone - it all came to a head in her mind. Dilara remembers exes she cares about, those she hates and those she is indifferent to. Today, despite Jennie being sat next to him and remaining truly and impossibly good-looking, Taehyung treated her like he would have anyone else in her place.

“Maybe I should’ve told you,” she muses, only half-intending to say it out loud.

“Wouldn’t have been much of a test if you had.” He tilts his head at her and tries to force a small smile, and she wonders if he seems sad. 

“It wasn’t meant to be… a test like that. You don’t know what it’s like,” she adds in a smaller voice, feeling defensive again. “I was caught off guard and… it was a spur-of-the-moment thing.”

He nods. “I understand.”

Dilara bites her lip. “I trust you,” she murmurs.

Taehyung says nothing at first; she knows how her words probably sound. “Thanks,” he says finally, very quietly, before looking back ahead. “You may want to let Jungkook know that, though.”

Dilara frowns at this unexpected segue. She wonders briefly if it’s a joke she isn’t getting. “Why would I let Jungkook know?” she starts to ask, but Taehyung beats her to it.

“I know I’m not really in a position to ask you anything, but can I anyway?” He waits for Dilara, still confused, to nod. “You have every right to be angry with me,” he says, “but if you are… can you please talk to me about it?”

She frowns; somewhere, her heart begins to race as she senses her control on the situation slipping. “I didn’t say anything to Jungkook,” she clarifies. “Not about this.”

Taehyung stares at her and her heart slows a bit as he registers her words, internalising them. He finally looks away and Dilara takes it to mean he believes her.

“Why would you even think that?” she asks. “Wait - did he say something to you?”

But Taehyung simply shakes his head and stands up. “Forget it. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He stops next to her on his way inside and touches her elbow. “I really am sorry.”

Dilara gazes up at him, even the slightest touch making her skin tingle. But something about the way he’s standing before her, apologetic almost by default, makes her heart ache. 

“For what?” she asks. “You didn’t do anything.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Just… everything. I’m sorry.”

Dilara is sure she’s lost count of the number of times he’s said this to her, and it hits her now, during the one time he probably doesn’t need to. 

“I’m going to take a shower and go to bed, okay?” Hesitating for a fraction of a second, he kisses her cheek and brushes past her, going straight into the bathroom.

Dilara stays rooted in the same spot for a few minutes, feeling confused and awful. This hadn’t turned out at all the way she had hoped. She had been on her way here, feeling unexpectedly light and almost proud that she’d found a way to get a nagging question out of her head. But something has gone wrong, or fallen out of place, and she’s searching for it blind.

Opting to give him some space, she trudges out to the living room. Curling up on the sofa, still in her dress and make-up, she closes her eyes and wishes the night would end. She’s polishing off a bottle of water from the mini fridge a few minutes later to avoid a hangover when the other bedroom opens.

“Hey.” Jungkook, in track pants and nothing else, looks surprised to see her. “Just came to get my charger.”

Dilara, with her mouth full of water, gives him a tilt of her chin in response, barely looking up. The tiredness of the day has caught up with her, along with the emotional toll, and she rests her head against the side of the sofa and exhales. Taehyung is out of the shower by now, for the sound of the water running stopped nearly ten minutes ago, but Dilara isn’t sure she should go inside yet. There’s a bit of misplaced guilt in her, anger at the guilt, annoyance at the anger, and a craving for a cigarette she hasn’t felt in a long while.

“Everything okay?”

She jumps slightly, having almost forgotten Jungkook was here. She hums listlessly in response, seeing him shuffle towards his room from the corner of her eye.

“Are you sure?”

“Did you say something to Taehyung?” 

Jungkook pauses, but doesn’t look altogether surprised at her question. He glances at the floor and bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to… be so harsh, I guess. But I thought someone should say something.”

“About what?” she asks immediately, sitting up. “And what do you mean by someone? You mean someone other than me?”

“No! I just… I thought you looked kind of pissed off - which would make sense,” he adds quickly.

“Jungkook -” Dilara starts, then sighs and shakes her head, not sure where to begin. She can’t fathom what he might have said to Taehyung, but it’s becoming clear now that it’s most likely the cause for his distant demeanour.

“Look, I wouldn’t have said anything, but I felt like I had to,” explains Junkook, his voice low. “I promised you I would.”

“What are you talking about?” Dilara frowns, bewildered. He doesn’t answer, his shoulders falling slightly. A moment later, it comes back to her: a hotel room, a video game, and Jungkook learning the word insurance. “Right.” She sighs. “Jungkook… this is not what I meant. You don’t have to get involved in our - in our stuff. Okay? And you definitely don’t have to speak for me.”

He bites his lip and nods. “I was going to talk to him tomorrow anyway,” he mutters. 

It does little to make Dilara feel better. He’s still not meeting her eyes, but Dilara wishes he would, because he needs to understand this. She waits until he looks up at her, hesitant and abashed.

“He’s your friend,” she reminds him. “He’s your friend.”

Jungkook’s eyes shutter over. He pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly reminiscent of Taehyung, and looks away.

Dilara sighs, regretting her choice of words immediately. “That’s not what I -” But she can’t get into this right now. Shaking her head, she goes back into her bedroom and shuts the door behind her.

The room is dark but the moonlight from the closed balcony is light enough. Taehyung is in bed; Dilara scrutinises his face from where she’s standing, unable to tell if he’s really asleep or simply pretending. She heads into the bathroom and unzips her dress, stepping out of the pool of fabric and leaving it there on the ground. She picks up a faded t-shirt hanging on one of the hooks in the bathroom and slips it on, wrapping the comforting cotton around herself for a moment and inhaling it, before taking off her make-up and brushing her teeth.

Once she’s done, Dilara goes over to the empty side of the bed, pausing at the edge. If he’s angry, he’s forgiven her. She knows he has, just as she knows he will concede to her every single time when it comes to this issue, no matter his own feelings. It disappoints her a bit, although she doesn’t know what or who exactly she’s disappointed in.

She climbs onto the bed and inside the covers lightly, moving to lie beside him. He’s on his side, facing her, with a hand tucked under his cheek; she shifts to mirror him. Even in his sleep, he is so handsome that it takes her breath away. The moonlight softens his features slightly; Dilara touches his cheek with the tips of her fingers, somewhat glad he’s asleep, for she doesn’t know what she would say if he was awake.

It’s too tiring to think about it, though; the long flight she took to get here to Incheon feels like ages ago. She tilts her head up slightly and kisses his nose softly, waiting to see if he’ll wake up. When he doesn’t, she lowers her hand and turns around, closing her eyes and hoping for sleep to end this night. 

A few moments later, his arm comes around her waist and pulls her close. 

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to leave a review :)

[feederheart]

The boardwalk creaked as if it were crying out for help as her fat-laden bare feet stomped loudly on the ground. Several of the beachgoers walking by did a double take as we stepped past, staring right at her stretch mark-laden belly as it jiggled and swung like a pendulum over her unbuttoned daisy dukes. Her ass, now the size of an exercise ball at the gym, bounced as she walked, each cheek moving with each step from her tree-trunk thighs. Her breasts threaten to break free from her bikini top that had clearly been ordered several sizes too small (oops). Her juicy arms also swayed and jiggled as she walked just like her belly as she greedily gulped down her XL peanut butter milkshake. Even the fat on her beautiful, round face seemed to quiver. Her body was adorned with fine diamond piercings on her ears and cavernous belly button that matched her wrist and ankle bracelets. On her neck was a leather collar adorned with a shiny golden cowbell; I loved to decorate my prized cow.

We didn’t get very far before she began to slow down and beg for me to turn around; we only passed three shops and a beach hotel. I obliged and we turned around as she exerted what effort she could to keep her fat, quivering legs moving. Her body began to glisten with sweat and she was short of breath, almost gasping at the hot summer air. She desperately gulped down her milkshake faster, hoping the thick, frozen calories would cool her down. At last, we waddled all of the way back to the car. She took the last sip of her shake and reached into the trunk for the cooler for a bottle of cold water. She then tucked one underneath her gargantuan belly, shivering as it touched her soft and supple skin. She then grabbed another one and yelped as she dumped it all over her body.

“S-s-so are you happy now?” she asked me casually as she dried off with a towel large enough to cover her and probably a small sofa. “You got to show off your ‘prized cow’ like you’ve always wanted.”

“I’ve never been happier,” I answered truthfully. “Or more turned on.”

“I see,” she said as she glanced at my shorts. “Well I’m glad you had your fun.”

“Oh don’t pretend you didn’t love that,” I teased her.

She responded by pretending to ponder that, one hand sarcastically stroking her chin while the other rubbed her massive gut.

“Well, I love making you happy so of course I did,” she teased back.

“Okay, well now that ‘I’ve had my fun’, you can start coming to the gym with me,” I offered dishonestly. “Or instead, we can get you another one of those milkshakes.”

She continued to ponder sarcastically, rubbing her belly even faster. She then looked me in the eyes and beamed at me.

“Oh who am I kidding, I want another shake!” she finally admitted.

“That’s what I thought,” I replied with satisfaction. “I know you love being a fat lazy cow.”

“I do,” she whispered seductively as she reached up for a kiss. “So how about we get that shake now?” she added greedily.

[elioslover]

Run-Ins- Harry Styles x reader

Premise: Harry decides to challenge a heatwave, If it weren't for a surprise run-in with an over-zealous puppy and its disgruntled owner, things would have been much worse.

Warnings: Sexy, sexc sweaty Harry. Gender neutral!

Word count: 3.2k || Other Writing

☀️

Skin sticking to shirts, the breeze carrying summer in full swing. It hadn't even reached ten am, and the weather was already swelting, only increasing by the minute. Harry had already tried to beat the heat, changing what was supposed to be an early afternoon run to one he was currently stepping out the front door to attend.

The rays of the sun had followed him since waking up, shining on him throughout the act of making coffee, blinding him from sitting on the porch and checking his phone for emails and notifications.

Harry didn't have a strict schedule for the day; the only thing he wanted to complete with certainty was his daily run. It was criminal enough that he had missed out on two opportunities last week and with the promise of a pure, stress-free fifty minutes, something that becomes increasingly sacred as more and more responsibility is piled onto his plate.

Without this one piece of his habit, he had zero routines to fall back on, and he felt stir-crazy at just the idea of sitting out his run for the sake of avoiding possible heatstroke.

Besides, the weather was still reasonable; he would just have to dress lighter and take extra care remembering to carry a bottle of water in case. Showering could wait until later- after all, he was unlikely to see or be seen by anybody.

So, with that, Harry rushed through his breakfast of a fruit salad, laced up his trusty sneakers, and grabbed a water bottle on his way out of the front door. He hadn't even taken a full step out into the summer sun when his skin was greeted with the feeling of opening an oven, steam sending a rush of heat straight to his face.

Without thinking, he walked back inside with determination, sifting through his suitcase for a pair of shorts even tinier and cooler than the ones he currently wore; his thighs were thankful, and so was his head once he threw an aged navy baseball cap on. 

He was ready now, certain this run wouldn't get the best of him. His day would be tainted, and that was embarrassing enough for him to admit, so when he stepped out into the heat once more, he tried his best to ignore the way his temperature began increasing like a reptile, instead focusing on the route he was going to take.

The usual park he had frequented recently was quiet for the most part- trimmed neon green grass stretching as far as the eye could see, and on a few occasions when Harry had forgotten his earphones, the singing birds were a welcomed replacement- something he found himself humming along to. 

But, his favourite part of this park was the little stream that started from the walkway and looped all the way to the end and back. If he was lucky, he might run past a duck with her gaggle of ducklings or pass by a couple having a cute picnic.

Five minutes into the run, Harry hasn't seen anything or anyone; he thinks he actually got lucky by choosing to run earlier than usual. This is as quiet as he has ever seen it, and with the wind on his back only blowing hot air around, he rids himself of the only item left holding him back. His flimsy black tee is off and strung lazily over his shoulder. His hands are empty, hat shielding a sunburn... why are his hands empty?

Harry suddenly pictures the forgotten bottle of water, sitting patiently on his side table, discarded when he had hastily decided to switch his shorts. The mere thought of water has him thirsty, and he looks forward to finishing this run more than usual.

Pushing his way up the incline of the dirt pathway, he promises himself a rewarding break once reaching the peak. But, with each step, his skin glistens sweat, heart thudding harder in his head, and he's slowing down for sure, forcing his muscles forward, ignoring the resistance created by the hill- certain he would be fine, just a little tired. Besides, it was good to be challenged- he needed to switch things up now and then.

Every muscle is asking him to stop, but he mistakes this for motivation and only presses on, relieved when the pathway shows an end in sight. Exerting the last he has to give, Harry looks down at his shoes, focused on putting one step in front of the other. His fists balled, arms flexed and pressed against his torso; Harry gives one final push before reaching the summit. 

And when he does, it's a lot harder to catch his breath than expected; every part of him feels like it's beginning to float away, and his ears are ringing with desperation to gasp for air.

He tries to steady himself, folding over, his hands resting atop his hips- skin warm to the touch- bending forward in an attempt to better open his airways, but the need to sit down is only encouraged, and Harry has to concede.

He finds himself sitting now, his legs stretched out before him, wrapping his arms like a chain atop his bent knees, and with a bowed head, he works to regain breath control. The wind wisps through the long blades of glass, whistling in tune to the songs of little birds, and the stream is strong; he wishes he had the strength to make his way over, at least dip his feet in the cool water.

The sounds all blend into one sweet symphony, so relaxing that Harry almost feels himself starting to relax. But his tongue is like sandpaper sticking to his palate; with each suck-in, his body begs for water.

The only thing that could distract him- and does- is the sudden feeling of something rustling against his side, trying to make its way into the gap between his arms and lap. It has a wet nose and makes familiar snuffling noises that can only be attributed to that of a puppy dog.

Lazily lifting and tilting his head to see better, Harry is greeted by the enthusiasm and curiosity of a very cute and very excitable golden retriever- wearing a pretty pink bandana, big brown eyes smiling up at Harry as if he were heaven itself.

Turning all of his attention to the pup- who is trying desperately to climb up onto him- giving it a rough and thorough ear scratch. 

"You're a friendly one, aren't you?" Harry chuckles, opening himself up to be further fussed over by his new friend.

"What's your name, huh?" Harry shifts and lets the dog continue sniffing him, reaching over to get ahold of its collar- a sparkly little disk covered in silver gems holds both a phone number and the name 'Beans'.

"Beans... Well, it's very nice to meet you, Beans." He smiles even wider as the pup reacts to its name, tail wagging, hopping all over him in the hopes of somehow getting even closer.

"Beans!” A voice called in the distance, quickly swept away by the breeze. Harry looked around, unable to spot anyone nearby, turning back to the pup currently occupied with trying to remove his baseball cap clean off of his head. He chuckled and scanned the area again, “I think someone’s looking for you, bud.”

“Beans!” The same voice sang, carrying over the hill straight to Harry’s heart. This time, Beans stops chewing and looks off in the direction of the searching song, and Harry follows suit, gaze settling just as the silhouette of someone starts to get closer. A harsh ray of sun forbids him from getting a good look at the person who is seemingly searching for his new companion.

“Is that your owner, Beans?” Harry asks, patting the pup with his free hand- the other working hard at helping shield the sun from blinding him further.

Beans' excitement only increases, tail wagging in all directions, eyes darting between Harry and the mystery person- still uncertain of whether to make a run for it or stay put. But, as the owner gets closer, amping up to call out for the cheeky dog once more, Harry is spotted sitting side-by-side with your dog.

And at the mere sight of you exiting the rays of sunshine, Beans is a jumble of jumping and excited barking. You release a relieved sigh, one you hadn’t known was trapped in your lungs, hyper-focused on the fact that you had lost control over your pup again. In fairness, what were you supposed to do? You had trusted her to stay, for just a second, whilst you fiddled with her matching collar and leash, but the promise of chasing an unsuspecting bird was just far too much for Beans to ignore.

You weren’t nearly fast enough to catch up to her- the whole point of walking with Beans was the promise of building better stamina, on your part- and once she was far enough ahead, you weren’t even sure which direction she had gone.

With dread, you followed your instincts up the hill, hoping she would have tired herself out by this point- she had done a splendid job of ensuring you were. What you hadn’t expected, hoped for, or even considered, was that someone might beat you to it. Seeing your naive little dog practically in the arms of some stranger was more than your nerves could handle today.

Legs starting to ache, you make your way over to the pair, thinking up some sort of jumbled-up apology for both your dog and the mere existence of yourself. But the man is smiling up at you- such a very pretty smile- and you almost lose all sensibility, startled as Beans hops up with vigour, bounding over and almost tripping you.

Harry starts to rise; the dull throbbing of his muscles is easily ignored as he gets a proper look at you. Beans is bouncing about, making it hard for you to walk much further, and the eagerness to meet you in the middle is what carries him your way.

He can see you perfectly now, and even though you’re mostly squinting, Harry likes how pretty your eyes look, being lit up by the sun. Trying to pacify your pup, hands patting at her, cooing to her to calm down, you do your best to examine Bean’s supposed new friend. His cheeks are so flushed that you feel warmer just looking at him, little droplets of sweat sneaking past his forehead, his skin glistening, muscles flexed. He’s very handsome, and you’re rather grateful for stumbling upon him, but he looks like he just completed a marathon, and with the way his chest rapidly rises and falls- shallow breaths evidently stopping him from cooling down- you actually feel concerned for his health.

Other than a discarded t-shirt, he seems to be empty-handed, and considering this may be the hottest day of the year, there’s no way he had chosen to go on a run without at least a little bit of water… right? He doesn’t seem to be too bothered because he’s still smiling at you with a fondness that you just know is a result of spending time with your dog.

Harry is still dying inside, an irritating sharpness at the back of his throat following each breath he dared to take, but long ago decided he could put up with it a little longer. After all, Beans is still circling his ankles, and you seem far too pretty to just give a greeting and a goodbye. Your own cheeks are slightly flushed, and Harry wonders if it’s from working up a sweat or simply shyness.

It happens to be both, with a hefty sprinkle of embarrassment and a dollop of regret for even leaving the house this morning. 

Beans running off, you could deal with. Having to make it seem like you weren’t, in fact, a moron of an owner- who on many occasions could be seen chasing after their pet- was a damn nightmare.

The quicker you said it, the closer you would be to putting this mess of a morning behind you. He’s just so pretty, though… and you’re thankful that he doesn’t seem to be the type to reprimand someone over a trivial mistake. So, with a much-needed inhale, the formalities begin,

“I’m so sorry about my dog-”

“Please, don’t apologise-”

“I swear, I’m usually a better owner than this.” You try reasoning, but it’s only for your own sake.

“I’ve seen much worse, honest.” Harry smiles reassuringly, the corners of his eyes scrunching cutely as he crouches down to give Beans another rough petting,

“Besides, I got to make a new friend.” He beams up at you, “I’m quite fond of her already.”

“She majored in likeability.” You add with a playful eye roll.

He smiles at that, turning his attention back to Beans, scratching her belly as she rolls over sillily, moving side-to-side to ensure Harry gave her the best belly rub ever.

“I like you very much, Beans.” He beamed down at her fondly,

“Yes, I do. Yes, I do.” Beans loves all of the dotings, her tongue wagging in tune with her tail. Harry continues, 

“I love your silly brown eyes and your goofy smile, and I especially like your bandana.” He admires, glancing up at you.

“She picked it out herself.” You inform proudly.

"Oh, is that right?" His gaze shifts between you and Beans, smiling fondly at the situation he has found himself in, 

"You're a good girl, aren't you?" He hums, and you scold yourself for the way your thoughts turn filthy, stomach clenching at his praises.

Harry finds his feet once more, towering over you with ease. And, you can't even begin to ignore the sight before you- a practically naked man, desperately trying to cool down and enamoured with your dog. Every part of him is on full display; his chest still glistening, his tattoos shimmering in the sunlight, abs flexing and contracting on impulse.

He suddenly understands the utterly distracted gaze swallowing your features, finally sane enough to remember the lack of clothing he donned- how damp and frazzled he must appear. If possible, his cheeks are turning even pinker, all calmness replaced with the same heat he had worked so hard to dispel.

When Harry can't help but take a sharp inhale, you have enough reason to stop gawking at him and instead assist him in regaining his strength. Reaching into the tote bag currently slung over your shoulder, it takes only a second to retrieve what you were searching for, pulling out a mostly-full water bottle.

The bottle itself looks custom-made; probably something you had stumbled upon in a store, deciding it was too cute and camp to pass up on. Decorated in bright pink and pastel blue, two My Little Ponies prancing on either side.

You extend the bottle his way, and Harry looks at you curiously, taking a moment before registering what you're trying to offer. 

He feels bashful, but the mere presence of water makes it impossible to ignore the burning in his throat. So, he sheepishly accepts, his fingers brushing over your own. The water feels like a miracle as he welcomes it, and Harry thinks you might be a saviour disguised as a very pretty, very kind dog owner. When your face morphs into one of relief, the shame he felt is long gone.

After a hefty sip, you're tempted to reach out and wipe the small droplet that slips down his lip, and when Harry attempts to return your gift, you only shake your head in dismissal, getting ready to argue over the ownership of the bottle,

"Keep it." You insist, "You need it more than me."

"I couldn't-" He tries.

"You must."

Harry prepares to protest, but he can feel your sternness swallowing the space between you two, threatening to double down if he even tries. Instead, he accepts defeat, secretly grateful for your gesture,

"That's very kind of you." He commends, totally enamoured and already praying for a second meeting with yours truly.

"It's nothing, promise." You smile shyly.

Harry wants to use this opportunity to at least ask your name- this may be the oddest meet-cute he's had so far- but his mind is a scramble for what to say next, and by the time he manages to string words together, you cough awkwardly,

"Thanks again for taking care of Beans... And sorry again." You glance down at your feet bashfully, and Harry chuckles at your soft shyness,

"It's not a problem, promise." He reassures playfully, enjoying the way your eyes crinkled with a matching smile, 

"If anything, I owe you." 

You hope to god you're not blushing, and when you glance down at his hands, you almost lose all sanity watching the way the water bottle looks so small in his hand, thinking that they may be the perfect size to wrap around.... 

Thankfully, Beans barks enthusiastically, and you manage to pull it together enough to remember that home awaits; your body aching to kick its feet up on the couch, pour some fresh fruit juice, and perhaps take a well-deserved nap. 

"Well, good luck with the rest of your...run?" You confirm, and Harry chuckles heartily, 

"I'll give it my best shot." He promises before crouching down to address your puppy once more, 

"Thank you for keeping me company, Miss Beans, be a good girl for...?" 

"Y/n." 

"For, Y/n." He nods avidly, enjoying the way it rolls off of his tongue, smiling up at you sweetly. Beans lends him one last lick before retreating to your side, ready to follow you to the ends of the earth. 

"C'mon, Beanie baby." You nod at Harry in final departure, a shy smile still swallowing your lips as you turn on your heels and leave.

Harry stays put, watching as you slip further away, ready to descend this monstrous hill, excited puppy in tow. Glancing down at the bottle still clutched in his palm, he feels his heart racing- but this time, there was no physical exertion required. 

He wonders if he might get the opportunity to return your gift- to see you in general. 

But, what Harry does know with certainty is; Almost passing out from heatstroke can have its perks, after all.