#Pls pretend his freckles are there

[theusernameiwantisntavailable]

I JUST REALISED I FORGOT TO DRAW BERNARDS FRECKLES AGAIN SHOOT 😭

[lee-laurent]

Just Friendly Things -- Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn brings his "friend" Hayden to meet the guys, only issue... they all wanna get on his nerves by flirting with her

content: arguing, teasing, flirting, some posssibly sexist jokes, suggestive jokes, making out, implied smut but no explicit smut

wc: 6.6k

notes: this took way longer than i expected because i hated the first few versions of hayden that i wrote. hope you guys enjoy! and pls pls let me know which fic from my most recent list you wanna see next!!!

Quinn had been convinced he had a type, until he met Hayden. The moment he laid eyes on the freckle-covered brunette behind the bar, all his ideas of the perfect woman went out the window.

He hadn't planned on approaching her that night--he rarely did that sort of thing--but something about her made it impossible to stay in his seat. Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled as she teased the patrons, or the quick, confident way she moved, shaking cocktails and sliding beers across the counter without missing a beat. Or maybe it was her laugh, low and raspy, floating above the noise of the crowd and hitting him like a bucket of cold water.

When he reached the bar, he still hadn't figured out what to say. But she noticed him right away, tipping her head at him with an arched brow. "You gonna order something, or just stand there looking pretty?" she asked, smirking.

It had taken Quinn half a second too long to respond, his brain short-circuiting at the sound of her voice. Her smirk only deepened as she watched him scramble for words.

"Uh, yeah--just a beer. Whatever's on tap," he finally managed, shoving a hand through his hair.

"Sure thing, champ." She poured the drink in one smooth motion and set it in front of him, wiping her hands on a bar towel. "That'll be six bucks."

Quinn handed her a twenty. "Keep the change."

Her green eyes flicked up to meet his. "Big spender, huh?"

He shrugged, suddenly unsure of himself. "Just figured you deserve it. You're working hard."

That made her pause. The teasing look on her face softened for a split second, and she gave him a small smile before moving on to the next customer.

That had been six months ago. Now, Quinn had her memorized in ways he wasn't sure were healthy. He knew how her lips curved when she smiled, the exact spot on her shoulder that made her shiver when she kissed it, and the way her voice sounded when she moaned his name in the dark.

Not that they were anything serious--she'd made that clear from the start. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Hughes," she'd said one night, perched on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies. Her legs had been tucked under her, and her fingers toyed absently with the hem of the sweathshirt. "I don't have time for that right now. Gotta focus on work and school, and I don't need a distraction."

"Fair enough," he'd replied, leaning back against the headboard and trying to sound nonchalant, like her answer didn't sting just a little.

It wasn't like he could blame her. She worked crazy hours at the bar, saving every spare dollar for tuition. And yet, every few nights, she still found her way into his bed--or his car, or his couch--looking at him with those green eyes and making it very clear she wanted him.

And that was the problem, really. He knew exactly what she wanted from him, but the feelings that had started creeping up on him were a hell of a lot messier.

Like now, as they drove through the winding roads to the lake house. Hayden was sitting in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to the way he kept sneaking glances at her. She'd insisted she could come as a friend--"We're just hanging out, right? Your brothers don't need to know anything."

Quinn had agreed, mostly because he didn't want to push his luck. But the idea of her spending an entire weekend around his brothers and friends--Jack, Luke, Cole, and Trevor--while pretending they didn't have history? He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep it together.

Especially not when she looked like that.

~~

Quinn tightened his grip on the steering wheel, forcing himself to look at the road instad of Hayden. She was lounging in the passenger seat like she owned the place, legs pulled up and bare feet resting on the dash--something that normally annoyed him, but didn't when it was her. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head with a claw-clip, dark sunglasses perched on her nose, and her shorts were so short they were more like denim underwear. And worse, she didn't seem to have a single clue what she was doing to him.

"Any bets on how long before Trevor starts acting like an idiot?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head. "Two minutes after we pull in."

Hayden snorted. "I'm giving him 30 seconds. Kid doesn't have an off switch."

"Don't let him get to you," Quinn warned, though his jaw clenched at the thought. He already knew how this was going to go: Trevor was going to flirt, Jack and Luke were going to egg him on, and Cole was going to sit back and stir the pot like the chaos-loving menace he was. The last thing Quinn needed was his brothers and friends turning this weekend into some weird interrogation.

She finally looked at him, dropping her phone onto her lap. "Relax, Hughesy. I can handle myself."

That was the problem. He knew she could handle herself. Hayden could flirt and toss back jabs like it was nobody's business. She was cool under pressure, quick with comebacks, and completely unfazed by guys like his friends. If anything, they were going to love her. Which was great--except it also meant they were going to keep pushing, keep prodding, and Quinn was going to have to sit there and pretend it didn't bother him.

He wasn't entirely sure he could pull that off.

The house was already crazy when they arrived. Quinn barely had time to turn off the engine before the front door flew open, and Jack and Trevor came sprinting out like a couple of dogs that'd been cooped up too long.

"Quinny!" Jack hollered, dragging out the name like he was twelve. His eyes darted to Hayden before a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. "And you brought a friend!"

"Careful, Jack, you're drooling," Hayden teased, sliding out of the car like she hadn't just turned Quinn's brain to mush.

Trevor skidded to a stop next to Jack, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head as he gave Hayden an exaggerated once-over. "Who's this?" he asked, like Quinn wasn't standing right there.

"Hayden," she said, unfazed. "You must be Trevor."

His grin widened. "Guilty. Did Quinn tell you that I'm his favourite?"

Quinn groaned, dragging their bags out of the trunk. "Literally no one has ever said that ever."

Trevor ignored him, zeroing in on Hayden. "So, you a hockey fan? Or did Quinny trick you into coming up here?"

Hayden shot Quinn a quick, amused look over her shoulder before turning back to the blond. "No tricks. I just like the lake."

"I'm gonna like you."

"Trevor," Quinn said sharply, but it was too late. Hayden was already laughing, and Trevor looked delighted, like he'd just discovered a new game.

This was going to be a long weekend.

~~

The kitchen was already loud by the time Quinn woke up the next morning. Jack was rummaging through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of skim milk, while Luke stood at the stove making ovens. Trevor was leaning against the counter, already drinking despite the early hour.

Then there was Hayden, perched on a stool like she'd been part of the group for years. She was wearing a tank top and athletic shorts, her legs crossed as she sipped a mug of coffee one of the guys had made for her. She looked completely at ease, laughing softly at something Trevor had just said.

"Morning, sunshine," Jack called out when he spotted Quinn. "You sleep okay on the couch?"

Trevor smirked. "Guess you're more of a gentleman than I thought, letting Hayden have the bed."

Quinn ignored him, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Someone had to make sure you idiots didn't scare her off already."

"We're harmless," Jack said, grabbing a yogurt and joining Hayden at the counter. "Right, Hayden?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Totally harmless."

Trevor licked his lips, setting down his beer. "So, Hayden, what's your deal? You work at a bar, right? Bet you've got some wild stories."

"Plenty," she said easily. "But I'm guessing you don't wanna hear about drunk bachleorette parties or old guys claiming they already tipped me when it's the first time I've ever seen them."

"Come on," Trevor said, flashing her his most charming grin. "What about the weirdest pickup line you've ever gotten?"

"I don't know... probably the guy who told me I had eyes like a mermaid and asked if I wanted to 'swim into his arms.'"

Jack snorted. "That's terrible."

"Right?" Hayden laughed again. "I told him I'd rather drown."

Trevor laughed so hard he nearly spilled his beer. "Okay, that's solid. But what about the best pickup line? You've gotta have one."

Quinn, pouring his coffee, clenched his jaw. He knew where this was going.

Hayden glanced at him briefly. "I don't really go for pickup lines," she shrugged. "If a guy's confident, he doesn't need one."

"Oh, I'm confident," Trevor leaned a little closer.

Hayden smirked. "Good for you, bud."

Quinn's knuckles tightened around his mug as he turned and leaned against the counter. "Shouldn't you save some of that energy for the lake, Trev? Or is embarrassing yourself in the water not enough anymore?"

Trevor shot him a look, but Hayden only smiled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Careful, Hughesy," she said lightly. "You're starting to sound jealous."

Quinn froze, scrambling for a response. "I'm not--"

"She's got a point," Jack interrupted. "You're lookin' a little tense there, Quinny."

"I'm fine!"

Hayden raised her coffee mug to hide her smile, but the damage was already done.

Quinn's nerves were frayed by the end of breakfast. Hayden had slipped easily into the background, chatting with Luke about something or other, but Trevor and Jack were relentless in their interrogation.

"Hayden, what kind of guys do you usually go for?" Trevor asked carefully as they started clearing the plates.

Quinn stiffened, glancing at Hayden out of the corner of his eye. She didnt' miss a beat.

"Hmm. I guess I like guys who can make me laugh."

"That's me!" Trevor said excitedly.

"Right," she said, deadpan. "But I also like guys who know when to quit."

Jack laughed, clapping Trevor on the back. "Ouch! Guess you're out of luck, bud!"

Quinn didn't bother to hide his smirk, but his amusement didn't last long. Trevor wasn't giving up, and Hayden seemed determined to keep sparring with him.

The group wasted no time in dragging all their gear down to the water. Paddleboards, kayaks, and inner tubes littered the dock, and Jack was already trying to wrestle Luke into the water just for the sake of it.

Quinn had just finished setting up a folding chair near the edg of the dock when he caught sight of Hayden emerging from the house.

His brain short-circuited.

She was wearing a simple blue bikini, nothing overly flashy, but it might as well have been haute couture for the way it made his chest tighten. Her hair was loose now, claw clip abandoned, and her sungless perched on her pale nose as she carried a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

She walked like she owned the place, completely oblivious to how every head on the dock turned her way.

"Jesus, Quinn," Jack grinned. "Where'd you find her?"

Quinn scowled. "Shut up, Jack."

"Hey, Hayden!" Trevor called, waving her over like they were old friends. "You ever paddleboard before?"

Hayden stopped at the edge of the dock, plating her hands on her hips. "Once or twice. Why?"

Trevor pulled a board toward himself. "Because you're about to get a free lesson from the best."

"You mean Luke?" she quipped, smirking proudly.

Trevor clutched his chest like she'd stabbed him. "That hurts. I'm actually really fucking great at this!"

"Uh-huh." Hayden tossed her towel onto a chair, kicking off her sandals. "Fine. Show me what you've got."

Quinn groaned internally as Trevor guided her toward the paddleboard. He tried to focus on adjusting one of the chairs, but his eyes kept returning to Hayden as Trevor "helped" her climb onto the board.

"Keep your knees bent," Trevor said, standing waist-deep in the water beside her. "It's all about balance."

"Got it," Hayden said, adjusting her stance.

"You're a natural," he grinned up at her. Then, with an exaggerated wave of his arm, he tipped her board slightly to the side, sending her wobbling.

Quinn tensed instinctively, stepping toward the edge of the dock, but Hayden quickly recovered, giving Trevor a look that could melt steel.

"Do that again, and you're swimming home with this thing shoved up your ass," she said flatly.

Luke burst out laughing from where he was lounging on an inner tube. "She's not wrong, Trev. You're annoying as fuck."

Trevor ignored him, hopping onto his own paddleboard. "Alright, then. Let's race."

"You're on," Hayden paddled toward the deeper water with ease.

Quinn really wanted to stay out of it, but watching Trevor and Hayden laughing and splashing each other in the middle of the lake was slowly driving him insane. He stood at the edge of the dock, hands on hips like a dad, until Jack strolled over and gave him a knowing look.

"You good, man? You've been standing there glaring at Trevor for five minutes."

"I'm not glaring," Quinn said, moving to cross his arms.

"Sure," Jack said, dragging out the word. "Hey, maybe we should all take turns teaching Hayden how to paddleboard. I mean, I've got skills."

"Don't."

Jack raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he walked away.

~~

Quinn moved from standing to sitting, his feet in the water, when Hayden paddled back toward him. Trevor had abandoned his board by this point, leaving her to float leisurely near the dock.

"Not bad, huh?" she said, smirking as she climbed off the board and into the shallow water.

"You handled yourself," Quinn said, shrugging like it didn't matter.

Hayden raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until she was standing waist-deep in the water in front of him. "You sure you're okay? You've been looking kind of... tense."

"I'm fine," he said, though his shoulders gave him away.

"Right." She reached past him to grab her towel, her arm brushing his in the process. The touch was brief, accidental, but it was enough to send a jolt through him.

"Hayden," Trevor called from the shore, "you wanna head out again? I think I can beat you this time."

Quinn didn't miss how Trevor's eyes flicked down to Hayden's legs as she pushed herself up on the dock, or the stupid grin on his face when she finally looked at him.

"Pass," she waved him off. "I've already proven I'm better than you."

Quinn couldn't help it; he smirked.

As Hayden sat down beside him to dry off, he caught her looking at him through the corner of her eye. "You're glaring again," she mumbled, covering it with a fake cough.

"I'm not."

"Sure..."

Quinn didn't say anything, looking back out over the water. Trying his hardest, and failing, to think of anythingbut how much longer this weekend was going to last.

~~

Dinner was even more chaotic... if that was possible.

The dining table was a mix of empty beer bottles, half-eaten burgers, and bowls of chips scattered across every inch of available surface. Luke and Jack had teamed up on the grill, burning half the patties while Trevor heckled them from his seat. Cole had claimed his spot across from Hayden, watching things unfold with a look on his face that Quinn was starting to resent.

And of course, Hayden--perfectly unbothered--sat at Quinn's right, sipping a beer and laughing at the guys' stupid antics. Quinn tried not to notice how her shoulder brushed his every time she shifted in her seat.

"So, Hayden," Trevor said suddenly, wiping ketchup off his fingers, "we've all been wondering--what's your deal?"

"My deal?" she bit back a smile.

"You know," he leaned foward on his elbows. "What's a girl like you doing hanging out with a guy like Quinn?"

Quinn choked on a sip of water, sputtering into his napkin. "Jesus, Trevor."

"What?" he innocently flashed a grin. "I'm just saying. You're cool, Hayden. You've got, like, a vibe. Quinn's... well. Quinn."

Hayden turned to Quinn, tilting her head dramatically as if evaluating him. "You're right. I could probably do better."

The table erupted into laughter, Jack banging his fist against the table as Trevor fell back in his chair. Quinn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, though he couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips.

"See?" Trevor said, pointing at Hayden like she'd just proven his point. "I like her. She's honest."

"Honest, huh?" Hayden smirked, lifting her beer to her lips. "Careful, Z. I don't think you can handle honest."

Trevor was undeterred. "Oh, I can handle honest. Hit me."

"Alright. Honestly? You talk a lot of shit for someone who fell off a paddleboard twice today."

"Hey! The second time didn't count!" Trevor argued, pointing a potato chip at her. "I was distracted."

"By what?"

"By you," he smirked, like he thought he was the smoothest guy ever.

Quinn's hand clenched under the table. He forced himself to take a sip of his drink, trying to mask his irritation.

"Well, don't let it happen again. I'd hate for you to embarrass yourself three times today," she giggled.

Luke snorted into his drink, while Cole howled from the other side of the table.

"I don't embarrass easily."

"Could've fooled me," Hayden said, giving Quinn's thigh a squeeze under the table.

"You're good at this," Jack laughed. "You should come to dinners more often."

"Don't encourage her," Quinn rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Quinny," Jack nudged him with his elbow. "You're just mad she's better at coming up with comebacks than you are."

"Not mad."

"Uh-huh. I'll see it when I believe it, Quinnifer."

~~

Once the plates were cleared and the guys had moved outside to do god-knows-what, Quinn hang back in the kitchen, rinsing dishes just to keep his hands busy. Hayden lingered, drying plates as they were handed to her.

"You sure you're okay, Q?"

"I'm fine," he said, though his jaw was still tight.

"You've been 'fine' all day," she teased. "You sure you don't want to try a different excuse?"

He sighed, setting down the plate he was holding. "They're onto us."

"So? Let them wonder. What's the worst that could happen?"

Quinn stared at her, incredulous. "Are you serious? We're not... dating. I... don't need them knowing about... us."

"You're worried because we're casual? Quinn, I'm sure they've all had flings before."

"But, you--"

"Hayden! Quit flirting with my brother and come play pong!" Jack called from the sliding door.

"Coming!" she pressed a quick kiss to Quinn's cheek before rounding the corner and disappearing out of his sight. Maybe Hayden was going to be the death of him and not this weekend.

~~

The house was finally quiet.

Quinn lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling lit dimly from a lamp in the corner, the soft hum of fridge the only sound he could hear along with the occasional snore from upstairs (Trevor). His pillow was lumpy, the blanket was scratchy, and he'd long given up trying to get comfortable. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there, but it felt like hours.

Everyone had settled for the night, laughter and shouting just a ghost of the day now. Trevor had been the last holdout, talking loudly about his plans to crush everyone at volleyball the next day until Jack shoved him up the stairs to the guest room.

Quinn waited until he was sure--absolutely sure--the house was still. Then, as quiet as possible, he swung his legs off the couch, folding the blanket and tossing it over the armrest.

The door to his bedroom creaked slightly as he opened it, and he winced, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody had heard. The hallway remained silent, and he slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

Hayden was lying on her side, her back to the door. She was scrolling through her phone, her hair splayed out across the pillow, one of his old t-shirts draped loosely over her frame.

"Took you long enough," she murmured, not bothering to turn around.

Quinn rolled his eyes, tugging his hoodie over his head and tossing it onto his desk chair. "I had to wait for them to fall asleep."

"They're not asleep," Hayden said, her voice low but teasing. "Trevor's probably lying awake right now, trying to figure out if you're sneaking up here or not."

Quinn froze, his hand on the edge of the bed. "He's not."

"Wanna bet?"

He sighed, pulling back the covers and sliding into bed beside her. "If he was, he'd already be at the door making some dumb comment."

"Fair point," she sighed, finally setting her phone on the nightstand and turning to face him. Her eyes gleamed faintly in the low light from the hallway. "Still, you're playing a dangerous game, Quinny."

Quinn propped himself up on one elbow, frowning at her. "I'm not the one who spent the entire day letting Trevor flirt with me."

She smirked. "What was I supposed to do? Tell him to stop? That'd make things way more suspicious."

"You didn't have to encourage him."

"I wasn't encouraging him," Hayden cocked an eyebrow. "I was shutting him down."

Quinn scoffed. "You call that shutting him down?"

"What would you call it?"

"Flirting," he muttered, unable to keep the bite out of his tone.

Her smirk only widened. "You sound jealous."

"I'm not--"

"Relax," her tone softened. "If I wanted Trevor, I'd be in his bed right now."

Quinn stared at her, unsure of how to respond. Her tone was casual, but held a quiet reassurance he hadn't been expecting.

"Besides," she added, shifting onto her back, "he's not my type."

"Yeah? What is your type?"

Hayden turned to look at him, biting her lip to hold back her smile. "You really wanna know?"

"Yeah," he said, his throat dry.

She didn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, finally, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. "Go to sleep, Huggy."

He exhaled a quiet laugh, lying back against the pillow. "Night, Hayden."

If I wanted Trevor, I'd be in his bed right now.

He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse... so much worse.

~~

Jack and Trevor had dragged the volleyball net out from the shed, while Luke attempted to detangle it and Cole sat nearby offering unhelpful commentary.

"Hayden, you any good at volleyball?" Trevor asked, tossing the ball lazily in the air and catching it.

Hayden shrugged, standing at the edge of the makeshift court in one of Quinn's t-shirts knotted at her waist. "I can hold my own."

"Perfect! You're on my team then," he said, his grin widening.

Quinn grimaced, adjusting the net. "We didn't even pick teams yet."

"We don't have to," Trevor said, tossing the ball at Hayden, who caught it easily. "I already called dibs."

"Dibs don't count," Jack argued, stepping into the sand. "Besides, I don't trust you not to ruin every single serve she makes."

"Guys," Hayden interrupted. "We can rotate teams."

Jack and Trevor exchanged a look then both shrugged, apparently satisfied.

"Fine," Trevor smirked. "But don't be mad when we crush you."

~~

"Out!" Luke yelled, pointing as the ball bounced into the sand.

Trevor threw his hands in the air. "That was not out!"

"Dude, it was so out," Jack said, shaking his head as he jogged to retrieve the ball.

Meanwhile, Hayden stood at the net, adjusting her ponytail and smiling. Quinn couldn't help but stare, admiring everything from the curve of her neck to how her shorts fit her thighs.

"Q, stop staring and serve the ball!" Jack called.

"I'm not staring," Quinn mumbled, lining up to serve

The next rally was fast-paced, with Jack diving to save a ball and Luke lobbing it back over the net. Hayden held her own, quick on her feet and unflinching as instructions were barked at her.

"Nice hit!" Trevor exclaimed after she spiked the ball, raising his hand for a high-five.

She slapped his palm lightly, her smile easy, but Quinn caught the way Trevor's hand lingered for just a second too long.

"Focus, Trev," he snapped, tone sharper than intended.

Trevor turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. "I am focused. You okay, man?"

"I'm fine."

~~

A few points later, Hayden stumbled as she went for the ball, her foot catching in the sand. Quinn moved without thinking, reaching out to steady her before she could fall.

"You good?" he asked, his hand warm on her arm.

"Yeah," she said, brushing the sand off her leg as she looked up at him. Her eyes get his and the rest of the group seemed to fade away.

"Thanks," she added softly.

"Anytime."

"Alright, lovebirds," Cole called, ruining their moment. "Can we play now?"

Hayden laughed, stepping back to her spot. Quinn shot Cole a glare but didn't respond, his ears burning.

The final play came down to Hayden, Trevor, and Cole on one side, with Quinn, Jack, and Luke on the other.

"Just hit it over," Quinn muttered to Jack, who was already bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Trevor set the ball perfectly, sending it sailing towards Hayden. She jumped, spiking it cleanly over the net and straight into the sand on the other side.

"Game!" Trevor yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

Hayden raised her hands in victory, giggling as Trevor ran over to give her a congratulatory hug. Quinn gaze looked like it could kill as Trevor lifted her slightly off the ground, spinning her once before setting her back down.

"Alright, alright," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she escaped his grasp. "Calm down, Z."

"Can't help it," Trevor said grinning as he turned to Quinn. "You guys put up a good fight, though. Better luck next time."

Quinn didn't respond, heading straight for the water with the ball tucked under his arm.

Hayden watched him go, her smile fading. She didn't follow right away, but when she did, she caught up to him at the water's edge, where he was skimming the ball across the surface.

"You okay?" she whispered, wanting to keep their conversation private.

"I'm fine."

"Still just fine? Because you seemed... tense back there."

"Not tense," he muttered, thought Hayden knew him well enough to know he was lying. She could tell from the tightness in his posture.

"You know you can quit the protective act, right? Trevor's harmless."

Quinn snorted. "Harmless isn't the word I'd use."

She knocked his shoulder with hers. "Chill, babe. You need to be more... zen."

"Zen?"

"Shut up, I'm trying. And... just for the record, you're way more fun to play with."

"Yeah?"

"Duh," she said, her smile teasing. "But don't let it get to your head."

"Noted."

~~

The fire crackled softly, sending soft ambers into the air around it. The group lounged in mismatched deck chairs around the campfire, beers and marshmallows in hand. Luke was poking at the logs with a stick, while Jack balanced on the two back legs of his chair... strongly against Hayden's wishes.

She was curled up in one of the chairs, her legs tucked up to her chest, the glow of the fire casting shadows across her face. Quinn sat across from her, trying--and failing--not to stare at how majestic she looked.

"This is nice," she mumbled, sipping her drink.

"Best part of the trip," Jack agreed.

"Well, second best," Trevor added with a grin.

"Let me guess," Hayden said dryly. "The best part is beating everyone at volleyball."

"You fucking know it!"

Quinn rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of beer.

"Alright, I've got a question for you, Hayden," Trevor giggled to himself, already tipsy.

"Here we go," Cole cackled.

"No, no, it's a good one," he insisted. "If you had to date one of us, who would it be?"

The group erupted into groans and howls of laughter, with Luke flinging a marshmallow at Trevor's head. "Dude, what's wrong with you?"

"What?" Trevor asked, popping the sweet into his mouth. "It's a valid question!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! And you have to answer. It's the rules."

"What rules?" Jack asked with a snort.

Trevor ignored him, looking back at Hayden. "Come on. Hypothetically. Who's your pick?"

Hayden looked around the circle, her lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh. "Hmm," she said, drawing out the word just enough to make Trevor lean forward in anticipation. "I think... I'd pick... Cole."

Cole nearly choked on his s'more. "What?"

"You're the least annoying... I think," she shrugged.

"Fucking brutal," Jack shook his head.

"Good choice," Cole lifted his beer to her in toast.

Trevor pouted. "That's not fair. I'm not that annoying."

"Very debatable," Cole said, earning a hard shove.

Trevor, however, wasn't done.

"Okay, new question. What's the most romantic thing a guy's ever done for you?"

"You're fucking killing me," Luke groaned.

"Just answer the question!"

"Probably this guy who made me tea every morning for a week after my late-night shifts. And he didn't even drink tea himself."

"That's cute," Cole nodded.

Jack frowned. "Quinn doesn't drink tea."

Hayden bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement.

Quinn's cheeks burned as every eye in the group turned to him. "What?"

"Nothing... just making an observation."

"Interesting."

"I think it's time for bed," Quinn said abruptly, standing and brushing the sand from his shorts.

Hayden lingered for a moment, finishing her drink before standing and following him.

~~

Quinn was already lying on "her" bed when Hayden slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"You okay?"

"You keep asking that."

"Let me guess you're fine?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p.'

Hayden shook her head, pulling off her tank top and replacing it with one of Quinn's t-shirts before climbing into bed beside him. "You didn't look fine."

"They're fucking relentless."

"It's their job. They're... feeling out my vibe."

"Trevor sucks dick," he rubbed his hands over his face.

Hayden reached out, running her hand through his hair. "You didn't like his questions?"

"No."

"You're cute when you're worked up, you know that?"

Quinn rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. "Go to sleep."

"Fine," she said, rolling onto her back and pulling the covers over her. "For the record, I wasn't lying about the tea."

"Goodnight Hayden," he chuckled.

"Night, Huggy."

Hayden couldn't help but wonder if this weekend was proving that maybe... they weren't meant to just be "friends."

~~

Breakfast passed as normal, Trevor making comments about "volleyball rematch strats" and Jack pestering Hayden about if she'd ever stay for another "family" holiday again. Quinn kept his head down, gritting his teeth through most of it.

By the time they made it down for another round of games in the late afternoon, Quinn was wound so tightly he could feel it in the back of his neck.

And then... Trevor started again.

"Hayden, I think you should be the ref," he said tossing the ball between his hands. "You're way too good at this. It's like totally unfair to the rest of us."

"She's not that good," Quinn said, adjusting the net.

"Oh, come on, Qball. Don't be bitter just because she carried my team yesterday."

Hayden cocked an eyebrow. "I'm standing right here, ya know?"

Trevor smirked. "Trust me, I know."

Quinn felt a rush of heat flood his chest, a sharp pang of jealousy and irritation that he couldn't ignore.

"Alright," he snapped, letting go of the net and stepping back. "Can we just play already?"

"Jeez, man. Relax," Trevor blinked, his grin fading slightly.

"Quinn," Hayden mumbled, but he was already walking toward the house, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides

~~

She found him a few minutes later, standing in the kitchen and staring out the window at the water.

"What are you doing?" he exhaled sharply.

Hayden frowned. "What'd you mean?"

"This," he gestured towards the lake. "With Trevor. With all of them. You're enjoying this way too much."

"So what if I am? It's harmless, Quinn."

"It's not harmless," his voice rose. "They're pushing, Hayden. They're asking all these questions, making comments--and you're feeding into it!"

"I'm not feeding into it," she said, her tone defensive. "I'm just... playing along."

"Well... maybe you should stop."

"What's your problem, Hughes?" she narrowed her eyes. "You're the one who agreed to keep this under wraps. I'm just doing what you asked."

"Yeah, well, it's not fucking working. They clearly know."

"So what?" she challenged, stepping closer. "What's the worst that could happen? They find out we're sleeping together? Who cares?"

"I care!" Quinn yelled, his voice echoing off the walls.

Hayden froze, her eyes as wide as saucers.

He sighed. "I care, Hayden. Because this isn't just some game for me. It never has been."

The tension in the room was thick, the weight of his words hanging between them.

"Quinn..."

"You have no idea how hard this has been," he said, his voice low and intense. "Watching them flirt with you, tease you--like you're just some... some random girl I brought along."

"Q..."

"I know we're not serious. Not official," he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you don't want anything serious. But you're mine, Hayden. And it's fucking killing me to sit here and pretend that you're not."

Her breath hitched, her eyes locked on his.

"Say something," his voice was rough, almost pleading.

Hayden didn't say anything. Instead, in two quick steps, she grabbed his face and pulled him down into a kiss.

Quinn froze for a quarter of a second before his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was hot and urgent, everything that Quinn had been bottling up for months spilling out at once.

They stumbled back toward the counter, Hayden's hands tangling in his hair as he lifted her onto the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as his lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning path in their wake.

"Quinn," she whispered, breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look in her eyes. "Tell me this isn't just casual for you."

She stared at him, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. "It's not," she admitted. "Hasn't been for a while."

"Good," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

~~

The lay tangled together in his bed, the room quiet except for them both trying to catch their breath, Hayden drawing patterns on Quinn's bare chest with her finger.

He felt lighter than he had in days, the knot in his chest finally loosened... maybe even gone.

"You okay?" she whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin of his pec.

"Yeah, you?"

She tilted her head up, scruncing her nose as he kissed it. "I'm good."

Finally, they could both breathe easy.

~~

Jack and Trevor were already bickering as Hayden headed downstairs in the morning. She paused in the doorway, taking a second to tug the hem of Quinn's hoodie further down her thighs. It was comically oversized on her, the sleeves swallowing her hands, but it was warm and soft, and she hadn't felt like getting dressed into her own clothes.

Her hair was a mess from both sleep and sex, and her skin was flushed in places Quinn's stubble had brushed against the night before. She wasn't even thinking about it was she padded into the kitchen, bare feet against the hardwood floor.

Trevor was the first to notice. Of course.

"Morning, Hayden," he said cheerfully, taking a bite of his eggs. Then his gaze dropped to the hoodie, and his smile widened. "Wait a second. Is that--"

Jack turned, taking in her appearance. "Oh, no way! Is that Quinn's hoodie?"

Hayden blinked, feigning innocence as she grabbed a mug from the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Good morning to you too, Jack."

"Don't 'good morning' me," he pointed the spatula he was using at her. "What is going on here?"

Trevor's eyes flicked to her neck, and his jaw dropped. "Oh my God!"

"What?" she asked, sipping her coffee like nothing was amiss.

Trevor laughed, loud and incredulous, gesturing wildly. "You've got-- Jesus, Hayden."

"You're gonna have to be specific, Trevor."

Jack moved closer, squinting his eyes like he was solving a crime. This his eyes widened. "No fucking way!"

"What?" Luke asked. He followed Jack's gaze and nearly dropped his fork. "Oh, damn."

"What?" Cole said, peeking over Luke's shoulder. His eyes moved from Hayden to the hoodie to her neck, and then to Quinn, who had just walked in from the living room.

Quinn froze, his hair still damp from the shower and a fresh t-shirt clinging to his chest. "What's goin' on?"

Jack and Trevor turned to him in unison, both grinning like maniacs.

"Quinn," Jack started, his voice high-pitched with fake shock. "Care to explain why Hayden is wearing your hoodie and why her neck looks like she lost a fight with a fucking vampire?"

"Can we not do this right now?"

Trevor cackled, doubling over. "Oh, we're absolutely doing this right now."

"Dude," Luke shook his head. "I thought you said nothing was going on."

Cole smirked, "Guess the couch wasn't so comfortable after all."

"Not helping," Quinn shot him a glare.

"Y'all are making a big deal out of nothing," Hayden said, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth.

Trevor pointed at her, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Oh, no. This is not 'nothing', Hayden."

"Looks like something to me," Jack wiggled his eyebrows.

"Guys," Quinn's voice was strained. "Can you please just drop it?"

"Oh, come on, Quinny!" Jack nudged him in the ribs. "This is a big moment. You've got a girlfriend now!"

"She's not my--" Quinn started, but Hayden cut him off.

"Careful, Jack," she smirked. "You sound jealous."

Trevor howled with laughter, gripping the counter for support. "She's good. She's so good."

Quinn groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Hayden said lightly, taking another sip of her coffee.

Luke, who had been mostly quiet, finally spoke up. “So, uh... are we gonna talk about this, or are you just gonna keep pretending it’s ‘nothing’?”

“It’s nothing,” Quinn muttered, glaring at his brothers.

“Yeah, sure,” Cole said, smirking. “We believe you.”

Hayden laughed softly, setting her mug down. “Alright, boys. Enough interrogation. Let the man eat breakfast in peace.”

“Fine,” Jack said, holding up his hands. “But this isn’t over.”

Quinn sighed, grabbing a plate and filling it with eggs and toast. He sat down at the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Hayden slid into the chair beside him, her smile softening as she leaned in close enough for only him to hear. “You okay, Hughes?” she asked for the millionth time that trip.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing his hand three time under the table.

Quinn didn’t look up, but the faint smile tugging at his lips didn’t go unnoticed.

Maybe the chaos was all worth it in the end. Because Quinn Hughes finally had the girl of his dreams.

[iwaasfairy]

pls the way I was just casually playing lads and then got fucking blindsided by caleb and the absolute cest horniness that overtook me I can’t escape the huge strong devoted big bro that can’t live or breathe if he doesn’t have his cute lil sis carnally

tw yandere caleb, possessiveness, blood, a lot of niichan calling, siscon, I hc that reader calls him Mahiru growing up n Caleb when he leaves for uni and DAA so I use Mahiru here

It’s all too easy to feel like a big shot when neighbourhood kids flock around you. The swingset still glitters with dangling raindrops after the downpour, and laughter and childish discussion echoes the playground for a whole block between the raised skyscrapers.

“He’s coming again,” Nene giggles under her breath, air blowing through the hole where a tooth sat a few weeks ago, and her ponytail bounces. She hoists herself back onto the monkey bars while looking your way. Some of the other girls chat among themselves, and though they pretend not to look, even at age nine they seem to know. You hear your name fall between giggles.

It’s quick.

“Hey.” A rounded pebble hits your spine, and you turn.

The taller boy, stout, with soft freckles and a bit of a mean look stands before you for the nth time this afternoon. His words won’t make it clear, but he can’t seem to leave you alone. You place your hands on your hips, and sneer at him. “What do you want, Asher…” Gran told you he’s going through a phase, to be gentle. Niichan told you to punch him between his eyes next time he gets on your case.

You’re not sure you can do either of those. Asher’s eyes flick around as he shuffles a bit closer, under the eyes of some of the other boys— and a dusty rose tints his cheeks. “We’re gonna play house now. Since you’re not busy, you gotta play the mom.” He mirrors your pose, and his hands land on his hips. “I’m the dad, and they’re the kids.”

—Nene giggles from her elevated position, before yelling something out. “We don’t wanna play with you, Asher! You only play rough, and girls don’t like that.” Her smile is so wide that it’s almost Cheshire. “And besides, you should ask a girl. Not just order her around. Right?”

Right. You don’t say it, but your eyes stay on the boy as his face gets brighter, and he starts fidgeting with his clothes. “I’m playing with my friends,” you end up saying, as Asher steps into your space, and his rough hand grabs onto your wrist to yank you his way. That, and Mahiru nii is running around with his own friends somewhere. He already told you not to engage. It wouldn’t end well even if you ended up playing nice.

The blond’s basically sunset pink in the face, and though he’s holding onto you, you can tell he’s trying his best to be gentle. “Just play with me- with all of us. Don’t be like that.” He stares down his nose at your defiant eyes, and raises his nose. “If you don’t I’ll pick you up and throw you in there.” The sandpit. Rude.

“My brother will punch you if you do,” you snap back, as you pull your hand back. He doesn’t let go though, hand now trapped between your arm and chest.

“Just leave her alone, Asher.” One of the other girls chants from behind you. The longer he holds your arm, the hotter your face grows. Then one of them lets out a laugh. “We know you wanna play with her because you like her.”

The change on his face happens in slow motion. His eyes flick wildly over your face like he can’t settle them anywhere without more embarrassment, so he lets go of you as if burned. “I wouldn’t ever like you! You girls are all annoying, I was just joking around!”

“Asher’s in love!” Nene squeals out over the whole yard, and he gets a look in his eye that tells you to get out of the way. 

“Shut up, Nene! I’m not! I’m not in love with her at all.” You go to run back to your friends as they all squeal and chatter, and the muted blond grabs one of your pigtails to yank you back, hard.

You land on the floor, dirt and sand on your hands— and tears spring up in your eyes. But before you can cry out as you look back up at him, a larger body’s already flung him to the ground and gets on top of him to pound a fist right onto his brow.

It’s harder than you landed. You’re pretty sure it’s much harder than is needed, too. The sharp thud is followed by another, and another, as the playground goes quiet. You can’t even see the boy who hurt you under Mahiru’s bigger form— older, stronger, he’s already started to grow up while Asher definitely has not. Adrenaline courses through your veins, and the tears clog up your throat.

Only when one of the older kids who’ve joined from the street pull Mahiru back by his collar, does the assault stop. “Hiru, I think- that’s enough.” Mahiru’s heavy breathing makes way from the soft puffs of breath coming from the younger boy, who’s bloodied face starts bruising an angry red almost instantly, and gasps and hisses sound out.

He’s flattened to the grass with no movement. 

The pained looks come from the older boys most of all, as they straighten your niichan up. When he turns to you, he’s stuck between chewing you out and putting on a smile. He kneels before you to take your hands in his. “Told ya’ to punch him between the eyes next time he tries to talk to you.” The chastising tone doesn’t fit the mood that’s overtaken the playground. But he doesn’t hesitate to brush a thumb along your cheek. “Are you not too badly hurt? C’mere, let niichan see.”

His knuckles are split and bloody as he cups your small hands in his, and starts dutifully dusting them off for you— as his friends only grimace. Your shock doesn’t fade when he hoists you up under your armpits, nor when he pulls you into his chest to place a kiss on the top of your head. “Think you’ve had enough fun for today, ‘mouto.”

He smiles brightly to the young girls frozen on the swing, then at his own friends. “I’m going to take this one home first. We can hang out again later!” That’s that, before he picks you up and puts you onto his hip without another word, and your shaking hands are forced to link around his neck. “Don’t space out. Let’s go.”

…

The streets even out into less busy districts as he walks, lets you rest your head into the crook of his neck, your breaths evening out. You’re not sure what to say, only that it’s gone quiet since all the prying eyes followed you both down the block.

“Will Asher die?” you end up asking, and Mahiru’s steady breathing only breaks for a slight exhale through his nose, before continuing.

“Bad kids don’t die so easy.” His brows furrow ever so slightly, before he turns his face to yours so that his cheek is against your nose. “Shouldn’t you be a bit more worried about yourself?”

His dark head of hair rubs against yours with how close you two remain, until your lack of answer makes him continue. The swaying of your legs as he walks is easy, and it’s this that makes your tummy feel a bit queasy. You don’t have a scratch on you. Mahiru always makes sure of that. Your lips purse, and you tense against him. “He’s my friend. The girls were teasing him, that’s why he did that.”

Big brother stops walking. His long arms move from the small of your back where he’s holding you against him to your thigh, and he looks at you. Now nose to nose, heat climbing onto your cheeks. You’ve always been close, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still make you nervous. Mahiru doesn’t seem to get nervous for anything. His eyes sink deep into yours as he talks. “I don’t like your friends then. They put their hands on you and pull you and touch you. You think I’m stupid?”

“No.”

He lowers his eyes to your throat, then leans into you. Mouth to your neck, it tickles. “I was pissed at him because I know what he wants. Soon enough they’ll start asking you to kiss.” You can’t help it, you flush. Heat travels to your nose and cheeks and ears, and of course, Mahiru notices.

“What’s that reaction?”

“Nothing! I don’t have a reaction.”

The shades of brown and purple in his irises get a darker tint as he lets out an unamused noise. The tension makes you all jittery and weird feeling, and you start struggling a little to stay in his hold. “You’re my sweet, innocent little imouto. You’re not kissing people yet, right?”

“I’m not kissing anyone, niichan! Only you.” The silence is filled with your breathing. “Even if they ask, I'm not going to do it.” His dark brows are laced together so tight it looks like it hurts, and it only takes a moment for you to lean in and give a polite peck on his cheek. He doesn’t relax until you make an exaggerated ‘mwuah’ sound and press your lips longer against his ear, nuzzling into his cheek. “Don’t be so mad, you protected me, right? I’m okay thanks to you, niichan. Love you.”

You hop off his hip to stare up at him, and take his hand in yours to lace your fingers together. “Let’s just go home, nii nii? You were right, I’m tired.” And something still plays in his eyes, but when you pull he follows. That’s enough for now. You don’t want to get Hiru nii in trouble. He’s just protective.

[bobluvbot]

sweet nothing

pairing: remus lupin x f!reader  summary: you thrive in filling everyone’s cup. remus makes sure your cup gets filled too. wc: 2k cw: descriptions of food, eating a/n: written after a long writing break pls be nice heheh p.s. thank you for all the love for my sirius angst fic!!! i saw yalls comments and messages and appreciate them sm!! i don't have plans at the moment to write a sequel/pt. 2 sorry :'( someday when i get inspiration i probably will but for now it's a standalone <3

The pesto pizza was a big hit.

The news of the heatwave came a month early so it gave ample time for James to rein in the necessary house improvement tasks: yard weeding and tidying, adding small stone steps for the toddler, and ordering the inflatable slip and slide pool for the sweltering summer days. And he was adamant to do it all by hand, no magic, so he “could get the full experience”. Lily likens it to being married to a professional landscaper and contractor at once, thankful that her decision to go on a date with James Potter during seventh year continues to be a great lifelong investment. 

You can still recall Remus’ early morning grumbles when james calls him over for help. It came to a point where he’d beg you to pretend to be mad at the setup, reasoning that “ james is taking him away from his lovely pretty girl” when his best friend calls him at 6am to start the day mowing the lawn. 

James would roll his eyes at excuses falling off of Remus’ lips, but he’d sincerely take your concerns to heart. Lovingly, you’d wave Remus off and give him pecks on both freckled cheeks, encouraging him to go and learn how to tackle on house repairs so he’d be well prepared when it’s your turn to build a family home. 

This usually gets him going, Remus’ secret lover boy tendencies kicking in, but not without grumbling and frowns thrown haphazardly (easily treated with touching and kisses). 

Sirius was off travelling the world for most of the month, much to Remus’ dismay, as he was then promoted as the first-in-line friend in James’ contacts. He did however send over a fancy outdoor pizza oven in lieu of his absence, and it completed the space. 

On the days where you finish work early, you’d join Lily as she picks up her little boy from nursery and take a leisure walk around their quiet neighborhood, a babbling toddler in tow. Then you walk into the perfect setting: the gentle hum of the AC, sunrays reflecting on the white marble countertops, a nicely prepared spread of afternoon snacks for the three of you, and the floor to ceiling glass wall separating the living area from the backyard offering a glorious view of two sunkissed shirtless men doing hard manual labor. Lily nudges you, handing a bowl of pistachios. “A snack for the show.” You return her glance, eyes both twinkling with playful mischief. Maybe the summer days aren’t as bad as it seemed.

But then the first draining day of the heatwave hit. There were minor adjustments to be made still, like some scaffolding to be tidied and hedges to be trimmed, but the heat had a special way to beat down the morale of any living thing exposed to it for a while, and it finally hit James. Early on a Saturday morning, you decided to accompany a still groggy Remus on his usual Potter house renovation shift to make him feel a bit better that you were also losing sleep with him. To both your surprise, James comes from the garden to meet you, looking worn out but wears a proud grin. “It’s all done,” he claims, clapping his hands together and you see him holding the wooden culprit that magically finished hours of yard work in a few minutes. So much for no magic. 

“Get some sleep and come back in the afternoon for the party.” Remus grabs your hand and apparates back home in record time, before James gets a chance to recant his words. 

Completing a full 8 hour sleep cycle does wonders to the mind and soul. A well-rested Remus was filled with high spirits, doting on you as you both get ready for the party. He showers you with compliments the moment you step out of your closet, giving him a twirl. Once the bashfulness sets in, you run to him and try to nuzzle your heated cheeks on his chest, anywhere to escape his lovely sappy gaze. He sits on the bed so you can’t hide, and looks up at you like you hung up the moon. It was maddening.  

“You look stunning, my love,” he says, hands on the back of your knees, sliding up under the hem to meet the soft skin of your thighs and resting them even higher. It took immense strength not to buckle down and fall into him. You’d foreseen this response the moment you decided to wear that white babydoll dress, but actually going through it is a terrible nightmare. As much as the idea of bailing on the summer party and letting Remus do whatever he pleases with you in this dress sounds very appealing right now, you had promised Lily that you’ll help with the cooking and food, and ghosting your best friend for a dick appointment sounds very juvenile. So against your questionable judgment, you grab your boyfriend’s face, give him a chaste kiss, and murmur against his lips, “james and lily will kill us if we ditch.” 

Even though it was an intimate gathering of close friends to celebrate the finished yard, you forgot to account for the amount of kids, partners, and pets that your friends have accumulated since graduation. James had to transfigure the already long dinner table even longer and double the number of chairs to accommodate everyone. The slip and slide also was transfigured into an actual waterpark, complete with a lazy river that kids seemed to enjoy after going on the slides. 

While it was definitely chaotic, it didn’t feel suffocating like packed events usually make you feel. It’s likely because of the familiar faces wherever you look, the ease of conversation just flows. Remus was anchored to your side until he wasn’t, whisked away by both James and Sirius as they announce to everyone who’s listening how his valiant efforts in renovation has resulted in the beautiful yard they were in today. You giggle at the endearing sight of your boyfriend furiously flushing pink while his loud best friends continue to brag about him. It’s just how the marauders would be back in Hogwarts, with you watching their shenanigans from afar whilst nursing a terrible, terrible crush on Remus. Only difference now is that you get to take him home. 

You eventually get whisked away too, thankful that Lily came right on time as you were starting to melt in the heat. The inside of the home smells and feels like heaven, as the chilly air from the AC carries the scent of freshly prepared ingredients and whatever concoction Lily’s currently tending to in a pot. Careful not to disrupt the comfortable quiet, you give her a back hug, a silent thanks for fixing up everything you’ll be needing for the pizza you vowed to make, before getting to work. 

You’ve gone over the recipe and prep so many times that you could do this with eyes closed. The pesto sauce was freshly made a day prior, a delicious result of your raid in your aunt Molly’s garden and fridge. Before you knew it, the only thing left to do was place the pizza into the oven, to which Sirius was very happy to do so he could flex his expensive purchase. 

The chatter didn’t die off even when the dishes started rolling out of the kitchen, everyone now raving of how good Lily’s cooking have been, James not helping by proclaiming, “'m pretty sure my heart isn't the only thing she's stolen—she's got everyone's taste buds wrapped around her finger with her cooking too.” Making his wife flush pink and hit his arm playfully. 

When it was time for your dish, the stakes were quite high and you were feeling a bit nervous. At home, Remus practically inhales everything you make which provides you a good ego boost, knowing that you don’t need to be the best, as long as you don’t accidentally poison someone from your cooking. 

Soon enough, the scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. You stand by the head of the table, hands deftly making slices enough for everyone, continuing to scan the crowd, ensuring that everyone is being taken care of.

"Here you go, aunt Effie,” you smile, handing her a generous slice. “Here’s a bunch for you, Fred, careful not to spill and please share with your brothers!" you try to say quickly, but only see a spur of red hair and small hands before they run back to the water slide. 

You soon get a groove going and start to move down the line of smiling guests and waiting plates. Too distracted that you jump a little when you feel a warm presence at your side. Without ever needing to look, you knew it was Remus, who’s now carrying a plate with a slice you don’t even remember handing him. 

Without a word, he picks up the steaming slice and brings it to your lips. You welcome the taste, finally understanding the praise everyone seems to be throwing at your wake. You make a mental note to thank your aunt for lending you her recipe. Remus has his free hand cupped near your chin, ready to catch any crumbs or drippings that might stain your pretty white dress. 

Butterflies in your stomach erupt and fight for space, your entire body vibrating with giddiness and affection for your lovely boyfriend. That distracted look in his eyes as he feeds you in between your efforts in feeding everyone makes the warm fuzzy feeling worse, because you know he’s doing this without much thought, like second nature. That it’s just common sense. That it just goes without saying that his love knows you, fills the needs you don’t even realize were there in the first place.

You wonder through the afternoon then early evening what you’ve done in your past life to receive this love. Maybe you saved a cat from a burning building, or watered a dying plant that had magical powers to heal serious illness, or stars aligning just right to have you exist in the same timeline as Remus. 

You find yourself buried in blankets and clad in a worn sweater, twenty something minutes in a romcom movie in the comforts of your tiny apartment. Remus slides in beside you with a bowl of steaming buttery popcorn and another can of your favorite sparkling water (which he hates with a passion). Your eyes drift to your opened one on the side table, now seeing that it’s almost empty, a few sips left. 

Remus snorts at an obscure joke one of the characters says in passing, and you snuggle up to him, maybe hugging his arm a little tighter than usual, afraid that a love this gentle can vanish between your fingers. He turns and recognizes the look on your face, returning the soft gaze. His free hand brushes a stray hair away, fingers lingering on your cheek. 

“Thank you,” you find yourself murmuring. “For taking care of me.”

You had this conversation long time ago when you first started dating. Having been in some relationships and situationships before Remus, you thought you’ve seen it all. Known the twists and turns, what to ask for and when to keep quiet, what you owe and don’t. But he comes and does things that drove your mind haywire, body screaming foreign! unknown! when he leaves sweet and short scribbles on post-its and sticks it to random places that you’re bound to see somehow, your favorite fruits magically appearing on the basket after finishing the last piece yesterday, being able to count on one hand times where you had to touch the wheel and drive. Its all natural, unprompted, again like second nature. as much as you hated to admit, you’re a control freak. but it's easier this way when you know what comes and goes, what happens and what doesn’t, what won’t happen if you don’t do anything to get it. being with Remus and knowing his love is a shock as it is a clean slate. to unlearn roughness and rigid and know to be soft and vulnerable. 

you’d thanked him. when he gave you a confuddled look, like he didn’t just make your heart grow two sizes bigger in one day. you then started enumerating things he did that made you feel appreciated and loved. you were expecting him to be happy that you see and celebrate his effort, any reaction honestly but a frown. “you don’t need to thank me for those things,” he had said, holding your hand and gently rubbing circles when he sensed that his reaction scared you. “That’s how I show my respect and care for you. ‘s nothing special, just what’s right.” You couldn’t stop the ugly sobs that came after that, when you realized that yes, this was the bare minimum of a healthy relationship, but you made space for less because that’s all you’ve ever gotten, even when you’d ask. 

This time however, maybe because its near midnight and you’re both worn out for the day, Remus lets you. “Always.”

[lnfours]

Hi, can you make something with "you belong to me" or "London boy"? But just if you can do it and want and it doesn't matter what you choose from these two. Thank you 🥰🥰

anon: * ✰. — make a friendship bracelet london boy from lover pls 🫶🏻

anon: Please do london boy!!!! 💖

yk i love a london boy!!

join the 11k celebration!

his face was the first thing you noticed, cutely decorated with moles and freckles and dimples that you found yourself immediately falling head over heels for. the pub was packed with people and you had lost sight on your friend a little while ago, but at the moment it was at the. back of your mind as the cute stranger made his way over to you.

he smiled, dimples on full display, "you're brooke's friend, right?"

the british accent had sent you through a full, short spiral. if there was one thing you loved about visiting your best friend, it was the british men and their stupidly hot accents.

you nodded, "yeah, i'm y/n."

you stuck your hand out for him to shake, which he did with the same smile plastered on his face, "lando."

the two of you ended up talking, moving to one of the tables farther away from the commotion of the friend group. he had asked how you were enjoying london so far, you had made fun of his accent to which he replied with a basic american joke, things were going smooth.

until brooke bursted the perfect bubble, "y/n!"

you looked over at your best friend who was making her way towards you, "yeah?"

"i'm gonna get a taxi to take me back, you coming?"

you looked over at lando, who smiled softly at you, "i'll take you guys."

"no, you don't have to-"

"no, it's fine," he insisted, grabbing his keys from his pocket, "i'm ready to head out anyway."

you couldn't say no now, following him to his car that was parked on the street. of course brooke had told you about lando before, but none of the good things said could compare to how kind, sweet and fun he was in person.

you climbed in the passenger seat, letting brooke have the backseat to herself. she reached between the two seats, hitting lando on the shoulder, "i have a song request!"

you snickered as he replied, handing her his phone, "if you play taylor swift so help me god-"

but he was cut off with the intro of london boy starting to play, making you laugh as he rolled his eyes, "don't pretend you're not a swiftie!"

the whole ride back you had caught each other's eyes and you couldn't help but think maybe you had something in common with taylor swift after all, you do love a london boy.

[walkingzombiegirl]

"If you go, you'll die." She said seriously, staring deep into your eyes while the room around you both stood still. "And if I roll a twenty?" Ellie blinked, looking down at her sheets before peering up at you through her lashes.

"Best scenario... it lets you pass." She squinted her eyes, a promise of something else behind her words. "Any other number will kill me unless I leave?" Ellie nodded her head at your question, watching you pick up the hot pink sparkly dice with little to no confidence.

The gears turned in your mind while her emerald eyes rested softly on yours. No matter what move you made, she'd end up giving you an extra life, or an extra chance. Call it a lovers bonus because no matter how many dungeon masters groaned when they heard her joke about the endless lives you held, she never seemed to retire it.

You then rolled the dice, taking the chance and crossing your polished fingers muttering out a few 'pleases' along the way.

A perfect... nineteen.

"You've gotta be kidding me." She watched you groan, head tilting back as you kicked your foot out. "Just kill me already."

"The orc yells in anger at your pure act of disrespect..." She began creeping across the floor, slowly rounding the coffee table towards your seated body, "He sees it as an act of battle, and raising his weapon, he swings down!"

She jumps on you, your laughter intertwining as she began to tickle your sides, "And chops your head off in one swing."

"Not my head! Pl-please!" Tears pricked your eyes as you tried to push her hands away, your cheeks aching from the grin etched cross your lips. "Please, I'm too pretty to die!" "The orc roars, watching your poor, pretty decapitated head roll away."

You tried again and again to roll away from her, shaking your head.

"I should've flirted with him!" Ellie gasped, almost 'offended' at your harem. "And cheat on your totally not fictional knight girlfriend? You're awful at this." "It would've been fake! She would understand!" Ellie shook her head, pretending to look across the table at her notes. "It says right there she would've banished you."

She continued to rant, and as you gazed up at her from the floor, each freckle making an appearance in the lamplight. You wondered if you and her were like this in every universe. Happy. Together. Whether knights, aliens or just like this. Soulmates.

Spoiler: You're not.

[kolbalissh]

morning afters ⊹₊⟡⋆

carlos sainz jr/oscar piastri - read on ao3 !

teen and audiences above (suggestive content), 3.2k words - oneshot

the carcar established relationship domestic morning intimacy study that no one asked for, yet i delivered

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Leaving me without a kiss, Sainz?” Oscar grins back at him, his rabbit teeth and the crook of his canine out on the show, accompanied by the apples of his cheeks raising ever so lightly.

Carlos chuckles, deciding to humor the man in front of him whom he’s grown so unhealthily fond of.

“Just gave you one, amor."

A/N : this is my first ever fanfic written for the f1 rpf fandom, and boy did i ramble like my life depended on it pls enjoy thank you and i wholeheartedly welcome requests and feedback go wild 🤸‍♀️

Oscar’s eyes flutter open from the rustle beside him. The morning is soft, there’s light peeking out from the ends of the blackout curtains of his Hilton hotel room. The room cold, air conditioner is set to low - just how he likes it - it’s almost ritualistic the way Carlos will make sure the room is cold enough like it is consolation for how hot he’s going to make Oscar feel every time they’re together, how sweaty and messy they get, the room is sure to be cold to cool them both down.

He can hear the older man get up, putting the blanket that lifted from Oscar’s body when he arose, back on his bare, pale, freckled, and now, marked body - so he doesn’t get cold.

Oscar looks, though he pretends he hasn’t woken up, he doesn’t understand why himself. Peering through his lashes as the light from the balcony seeps through, he can see Carlos’s silhouette, eyes still blurry and unfocused.

He’s putting his shirt on, the same shirt Oscar almost tore apart from his body. That’s another thing that he doesn’t understand about himself when he's near the Spaniard. He’s known to be calm, he is calm, he’s always been. The next iceman, they say.

But Carlos gets him riled up, gets him impatient, always hungry for more. If the next morning there aren’t the indents of Oscar’s presence on the older man’s body, then Oscar would say he should’ve tried harder.

Carlos puts his jeans on, now. The marks of the younger nails, the long drag across his shoulder starting from his back, where he held on - because Carlos was a bastard like that, always has to look at Oscar when he’s inside the other man, maybe it’s the Spanish in him that made him this romantic.

Oscar never complains. Though, he’d rather get demoted back to an Alpine than say out loud that burying his head into the crook of Carlos’s neck, feeling the slight stubble tickle his cheek, breathing him in as he holds on for the wreck of it all, is one of the few things in life that’s made him feel safe.

And if Carlos looks at him with those brown eyes of his, that holds the world and more when he’s making Oscar gasp and whine, if the way he looks at him makes him feel like he’s flying on cloud nine, then that's between him and himself only, and maybe the deity that he falls on his knees for when there's a particularly hard race in a week.

And when Carlos calls him ‘mi muñeco’, after kissing him in the most tenderest way possible, even then Oscar won’t complain. He remembers asking him the first time he whispered the term into his ear, he probably should have been offended when he understood. He probably should have gotten a bit mad too.

But when Carlos said, “My doll, built to perfection - mi muñeco, you are flawless, like a porcelain doll made out of beauty itself.”, accompanied with the softest kiss on his temple, as his thumb caressed the younger’s cheek like one wrong swipe and it would leave him broken in pieces - then how can one expect Oscar to find offense in that? He accepted it, if Carlos wants him to be his pretty flawless doll, then so be it.

Oscar stirs a bit, the duvet on top of him moving along with him, catching Carlos’s attention. The remnants of last night still linger on Oscar’s face. His brown locks were messy, ruffled, and frayed across his forehead. The corner of his eyes with the stain of dried tears, tears that Carlos knows so well how to draw out, by giving him just enough and then pulling away, having the Australian man grasping for more. More is never enough. Carlos knows, and yet somehow he still gets him to his release, always just enough.

Oscar’s eyes are awake now, adjusting to the light in the room, and his bare body adjusting to the temperature - he already misses the warmth of Carlos, it’s as if his tan traps the heat of the sun itself, later radiating throughout Oscar’s rather white skin - the only tan that Oscar can get without getting his skin to burn till red, though, he burns red for other reasons.

He’s looking at Carlos now, and the other man notices that the brunette is up and awake, the hint of the early morning doze still radiating off of him. Oscar looks comfortable, wrapped up in himself, head resting on his forearms, peering at Carlos from the little nook he’s created for himself. The duvet weighed him down, and his soft brown waves curtained his eyes, barely disrupting his vision.

Carlos walks over from the foot of the bed where he’s buttoning the last of his shirt, the sound of his steps over the wooden floor coming towards where Oscar’s been silently gazing at him, still sleepy. Oscar can smell his cologne already, the aftershave entering his periphery, a scent he loves inhaling mostly from the dip of Carlos’s neck itself during the many times he’s found himself after a long day curling up in the other man’s arms and chest.

Oscar stirs a little to get a better look at the man in front of him now, looking down at him like he's the single most interesting thing in this quiet morning. Carlos’s hands come to his face to move the few locks of hair in front of his eyes all the while taking a seat at the edge of the bed - Oscar without thinking already shifting to give him the space to do so, yet still laying in his morning comfort.

The older man's calloused fingertips trail to his face, warm against his sheet-indented cheeks, caressing the soft skin there. The apples of Oscar’s cheeks warm against Carlos’s hands - the slow soft motion of his thumb drawing circles has Oscar leaning into the touch like a reflex, almost as natural as breathing to him.

“Did I wake you, tesoro?”

Oscar hums as he shuffles out of the tangle he was in to be more open, blinking slowly, taking his time to let his eyes water again, the sting of waking up still lingering. Carlos had so many of these nicknames for him, he’d lost track of how many there were anymore, though he had his favorites. Almost every term that rolled off the older man’s tongue was a term of endearment, more or less more affectionate than the one before. Tesoro. Oscar knew this one, the first turns of the cogs in his brain for the day being translating one of Carlos’s names for him. He was still caressing his face, Oscar couldn’t help but let his lip curl softly.

“You should go back to sleep,” Carlos murmurs to the man lying in front of him, his palms moving to the sides of Oscar’s body running up and down in slow motions, to lull him back to slumber, delicate and mellow.

“What’s the time?” Oscar mutters out, morning voice out on display. He’s comfortable under Carlos’s touch, with no signs of getting up soon.

“Around 7.”

“Up so early?” Oscar whispers, his free hand that’s not supporting his head finds Carlos’s bigger one, joining their fingers together. An action so small, but so dear to the Australian man. He gets to do that. No one else does.

“I’ve got a flight at 12, amor, Max’s plane you know,”

Oscar relishes in the little world he is in right now. It is as if the hotel room is guarding this tender morning between them. He fiddles with Carlos’s fingers, absentmindedly fidgeting with them with soft touches. The skinship is comfortable, familiar, and mostly, regular in feel. If you told Oscar even a year ago that he would be spending Monday mornings post-race in a room with Carlos Sainz holding hands like teenagers then he would have called you a madman.

Oscar wants to ask him to stay. It’s unreasonable, he knows but Carlos isn’t as strong a man as you’d think he is. It could work, Carlos barely says no to him, and spoils him too much even for Oscar’s taste.

And they’re supposed to be rivals. The media is still running the rivals to an awkward truce narrative, but they’re far from it already. They’re so different but so close, so similar. Magnets - polar opposites attracting each other like a force of nature. Inevitable, bound to be, and natural.

It is as if they pulled each other to themselves, even without meaning to do so. Be it the start of their acquaintance, where one crashes on the track, the other is always found at the scene of the crime or be it what they are now, always finding each other even in the most hectic schedules to give each other their time.

Oscar could ask him to stay. Tell him to slide back into bed, take the jeans and the shirt he just put on back to the ground where they were. Have Carlos snake his arm around his waist, pull him close to share the heat of his body to put the younger man to sleep, let the Spaniard bury his face into the brunette’s pale nape, and breathe him in. The plea circles at the tip of Oscar’s tongue, in battle with itself on whether to present or not.

But Carlos knows Oscar better than he thought he did. Carlos speaks again, beating the other man to his own request.

“You know I’ll see you soon next week, cariño?” Carlos’s thumb strokes circle on Oscar’s hand now, a small action of consolation accompanying his reassurance to the unsaid wish that had popped up in Oscar’s mind.

“Yeah,” Oscar replies with a smile, reflecting in his half-lidded drowsy eyes with a glimmer. He always had an eye smile anyway, it always showed on his face when he’d grin genuinely. Spending time with Carlos brought more of those out than he could count. There used to be a time when all he did was glare at the other man with furrowed eyebrows, it’s not like it has stopped, Carlos still knew how to get under his skin the same way he did at the beginning of their infatuation. However, that remained mostly on track.

Carlos replies with a smile of his own, dragging the hand holding Oscar’s up to his lips, planting a chaste kiss in between his fingers. The brunette allows it to happen, some mornings he likes the extra attention that Carlos gives him a little more than necessary. Being the center of affection for the other man has become something he’s accustomed to.

Carlos slowly gets up from where he’s sitting, the mattress instantly fluffs up from where he was. He walks over to the foot of the bed again, looking for the other sock somewhere around. Oscar is still resting, admiring the man in front of him - waltzing around the room looking for his things like his phone, his wallet, and his stupidly expensive perfume that gets Oscar’s head dizzy like a good high.

Oscar stirs again, pulling the duvet on top of him closer to his chin, tucking himself in between it lazily observing the other man prepare to leave. It’s times like this he wished that maybe he wouldn’t have to. The schedules of the races and the rush of time made it almost impossible for them to overstay their welcome at each other’s. If it’s leaving for Baku today, then it's Vegas for another week. And so on. Except for the breaks they get, and it’s something Oscar’s come to like more. Before Carlos, it was catching up on sleep, playing video games, and eating at another spot that Yuki mentioned in the group chat. Nothing’s changed in his plans, just the addition of a certain brown-eyed individual’s company - and that made the time away from the adrenaline-filled weekends more desirable.

Oscar sees Carlos pace around the room suddenly, in search of something. He’s looking under the sofa, and flipping the hotel-issued magazines off the coffee table. Oscar shuffles and supports himself on his elbows, peeking over to where Carlos was currently jamming his hand through the side of his duffel bag again.

“You looking for something?”

“I can’t find my watch,” Carlos motions to his wrist with a face that looks scarily close to what a kicked-puppy would look like. His shirt sits taut against his arms, and the sleeves are rolled to his elbows, showing all kinds of forearm action.

Oscar sits up a bit more now, his bed head resembling more a bird’s nest than a head of hair. He ushers towards the counter near the sofa with his head and Carlos follows the motion to where his eyes lock on to the silver gleaming from the top of the counter, amidst some other clutter that has Oscar’s name written all over it.

“You kept it there before we, you know,” Oscar mumbles out with a small chuckle, it’s just them there - there’s no need for Oscar to talk properly, the energy of fully waking up hasn't risen in him yet, and he’d very much like to sleep in today.

Carlos walks over to grab his watch, puts it on swiftly, and locks it in place on his wrist. The action has Oscar attentive, more attentive than needed one might say, but he can't help but stare at him - Carlos’s soft black hair falls to his forehead as he tilts his head down to secure the watch on his hand. Carlos reaches towards his bag, bringing his phone out of his back pocket, and checks the time.

Oscar is still sitting up, slouching, the hue of sleepiness still washed over his face - he looks incredibly soft at the moment. His lower half was covered by nothing but the white, heavy duvet, and his pale body speckled with moles and freckles, and fresh new marks of last night.

Carlos walks over to him again, shoving his phone back where it was. His right hand comes up to embrace Oscar’s face, slowly falling to where his chin is to tilt the brunette’s head up to him. Carlos bends down to kiss him on the cheek, the warmth of his plush, red lips against the soft of Oscar’s cheeks. Oscar leans in his head, savouring the contact of the kiss.

When Carlos pulls away there is a crinkle in his eye, a smile he can't help but have, looking at the younger man in front of him. His hand still holding onto Oscar’s face that he lets graze across his cheek, just to feel his warmth. Oscar always ran hot, even with the temperature low, his flush kept him warm.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Leaving me without a kiss, Sainz?” Oscar grins back at him, his rabbit teeth and the crook of his canine out on the show, accompanied by the apples of his cheeks raising ever so lightly.

Carlos chuckles, deciding to humor the man in front of him whom he’s grown so unhealthily fond of.

“Just gave you one, amor.”

Oscar feigns fake annoyance and furrows his eyebrows, with a quick eye roll before going back to peering at Carlos, awaiting his request.

Carlos breathes out another laugh, early morning Oscar had to be one of his favorite Oscars. The brunette got more clingy, especially on days like this when Carlos had to leave early and they knew it’d be some time again till they could loiter around each other’s comfort again. He leans in first, and Oscar instantly does so too, like a reflex, craning his neck up to meet Carlos halfway.

Their lips meet, and Oscar can taste the lip balm on the other man already, his own chapped lips chasing after the other’s plump ones. The kiss is soft, just like the ember of light flooding through the gaps of the curtains. Carlos tilts his head, deepening the kiss a bit more, a kiss that is unlike the ones they shared last night - filthy, wet, and heated. Oscar’s sleepiness is cut short a bit by the feeling of Carlos’s contact. He breathes him in and presses his tender lips against the older man’s. They linger against him, and Oscar can feel himself humming into it, his shoulders relaxing against Carlos’s touch. Oscar places chaste pecks on him in the middle, his hand reaching up to cradle Carlos’s cheeks. His stubble grazed Oscar’s palm, his hands were far smaller than the other man’s - they barely covered Carlos’s face whereas Carlos’s would have engulfed half his face already. Oscar loved the feeling, he loved leaning into his hands, letting himself be rested in its warmth.

Oscar pulls away first, breathing slightly heavier than he was a while ago, a wash of pink decorating his cheeks, his ears - running all the way down to his neck and collarbone. Carlos licks his lips pulling away as if to taste Oscar again. The Spaniard is left with his chest bubbling and a smile plastered across his face. Oscar’s hand goes to retract back to himself but Carlos catches it first, placing another few short, quick kisses on the other’s pale warm hand, contrasting against Carlos’s tan, gruff, and hairy one - adorning his silver watch.

“Get some sleep, love,” Carlos whispers to him so quietly, that Oscar would have barely heard him if not for the otherwise silent room.

Oscar dozily nods, his eyes already back to being half-lidded. Before he can collapse back into every nook and cranny of the mattress under him, Carlos decides to be even more of the romantic bastard he is, placing one final kiss on the top of Oscar’s head, into the soft mess of his chestnut waves which sealed that Carlos was finally leaving.

He feels Carlos pull away from his space, leaning down to grab his bag and shuffle away towards the exit of his room.

Oscar felt his eyes get heavier and it got harder for him to keep them open. He can hear Carlos rustle, further away towards the door in front of the small foyer now. The click of the only ambient light on in the room echoes through, Carlos switches it off and the room gets darker than it already was, the only light existing is the cracks of early morning sunlight peeping from between the heavy curtains.

The room is still cool and Oscar’s eyes are closed now as he starts drifting off into comfortable slumber. The last thing he hears is the soft tick of the door as Carlos closes it behind him, the sound diffusing with the white noise from the central air conditioning that’s soothing Oscar back to sleep.

Oscar breathes deeply, he can smell Carlos’s lingering perfume in the air and on his pillow. The room feels like him, even if it is Oscar’s space. He feels his senses get hazier, the last remnants in his mind being the thought of the other man. His man.

And if Oscar wakes up much later in the noon, getting some sleep, as Carlos had said - and he doesn’t find the older man beside him, then that’s okay.

Oscar will see him soon, anyway.

thats it! forgive me if the spanish nicknames are wrong or something i tried my best and i in no way shape or form know spanish well - hope you liked it and if u wanna see more stuff just flood my ask box (it heals me literally seeing reqs) and remember, carcar 4 lyfe xoxo

[whatsnewalycat]

Passenger / Chapter 7

Pairing: Trucker!Din Djarin AU x OFC Charlie Wanderlust

Wyoming (Part Four)

[ Previous Chapter ][ Series Masterlist ]

Chapter Summary: Our heroes fuck around and find out.

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 4.1k+

Content / Warnings: smuuuuuuuuut, dirty talk, inner conflict, outer conflict, jealousy, dog grogu, the mandalorian au, fascist propaganda, not beta read

Notes: Ayooo! This “day” is gonna be split into 2-3 parts, which will conclude the story arc for Wyoming, then I’m taking a small pause from writing this to finish another ongoing series (Designated Person). This series is going to be ginormous in terms of longevity (I have at least 20 more chapters plotted out and fully intend on completing them) so pls don’t worry, I am not abandoning them. Also I switched the POV from 2nd to 3rd person and will be updating the backlog of chapters to this POV.

—

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—

Din feels around blindly for the alarm clock and presses the big SNOOZE button, releasing a sigh into the sudden silence. 

Someone else’s body heat sticks to the edge of him. He shifts onto his side and tugs at the warmth, huddling closer. It mumbles something into his chest, but trails off, weight going slack against him. 

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP—

Din unravels to turn off the alarm clock, then rolls back over, letting his arm fall loose over the lump beside him. The warmth wiggles closer with a groggy hum. 

Prying open heavy lids, he blinks until his eyes start to adjust to the dark motel room. His surroundings come into focus gradually. Stiff sheets and body heat and a nest of blonde hair. 

He draws back to look at her face, studying her peaceful dozing features. The curve of her lips and the dip of her Cupid’s bow. From this distance, he can map out all the tiny freckled constellations smattered across her face. 

He syncs his breath to her quiet snores and absorbs the steady rhythm of her pulse. 

Just for a few more seconds, or a minute. 

It might be the only time he gets to see her in this way, so defenseless in such close proximity. Mona Lisa without the protective glass, she is precious and vulnerable. 

If that much is true, who is he? The thief sent to rip her from her frame? The night guard posted to protect her? Or both, or neither, or does it even matter? Because here she is, a real life enigma, and all he can manage to be is the awestruck witness who stumbled upon her. 

She starts to stir, burrowing into the crook of his neck. He should wake her up. Separate himself, at least. 

It feels wrong to hold her this way. 

It is wrong to hold her this way. 

‘Unprofessional,’ he reminds himself, as if that were the only reason and not just one of many. 

She stirs again.

This time, a yawn expands her rib cage and puffs hot down his collar. He pretends to sleep, closing his eyes as her lashes flutter against his thudding pulse. 

Shit. 

He braces for impact. Waits for her to come to her senses. To shove him away or pull back. 

But she doesn’t. 

Instead, she nuzzles closer and yawns again. On the exhale, she relaxes into him. 

Her weight and warmth melt through him, unclenching muscles he never knew he had. She curls and uncurls her fingers against his chest, a gentle affection that flickers up his spine. Her touch wanders to the elbow draped over her waist. It slowly roams up his arm, lulling him into a trance-like state as she skates along his bicep, then his tricep, rounding his shoulder to trace his collarbone.

When her fingertips graze his neck, heat swells at the very center of him and spills over the edges, reverberating through his body. A groan scrapes his vocal cords and his cock throbs against her belly. 

Traitor. 

Before panic can call him to action, Charlie arches towards him and releases this sweet, quiet gasp that empties his mind of reason. 

He tightens his arm around her waist and rocks his hips, blood burning when she pushes back. 

Rolling onto his back, he pulls her on top and they both moan at the weight of their hips settling together. She wastes no time working herself against him, huffing and whining in his open mouth. 

He has enough sense not to kiss her, but not enough to keep his uncuffed hand from slipping beneath her shirt to explore her soft, warm skin. 

“Oh fuuuck,“ she moans, body tensing as she speeds to a frantic pace. 

His eyes roll back at the violent rush of stimulation. He finds the small of her back and pins her hips to his so all she can do is wriggle and whine with frustration. 

“Slower,” he pants, grinding the damp fabric between their bodies, “Feel that? Just like that.”He softens his grip to guide her, nodding when she matches his indulgent momentum, “There you go. Fuck, that’s perfect.”

“So fucking good, holy shit—”

Sucking in air through gritted teeth, he starts to gather her hair in his fist. Her hand follows on its short leash, clinging to his handcuffed wrist as he pulls her hair taut. She moans and melts against him, but her hips never miss a beat. 

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, spurring her faster when she chokes out a guttural noise. 

Every time she slides up and down his swollen cock, a hunger inside him deepens. 

He wants to feel the heat of her in every conceivable way, to explore the aching need simmering between them. He wants to strip her bare and count her freckles and fuck her senseless. He feels her panting breath on his and desperately wants to kiss her. How pathetic. He wants and wants and wants, and yet, he knows there’s no time for all of that. 

Not with the way she starts to sputter and shake, heating his blood with second-circle hellfire. When he tightens his grip to wield her body against his, assuming control, she doesn’t resist in the slightest. 

“Din—fuck, it feels sofuckinggood, don’t stop. Don’t stop—oh my god don’t stop don’t stop—”

“Are you gonna come for me like a good girl?” 

She whines and digs her nails into his wrist, nodding frantically, “Yes yes yes yes yes—”

All her muscles go tense and gasping steals her breath. It returns to her a moment later with a choked sob and shaking limbs while his heartbeat pounds through his body, thick and hot, growing louder and louder until it consumes him completely. 

He groans, hips stuttering against her as the warmth of ecstasy washes over him. 

They go slack-limbed in the moments that follow, liquefying into a throbbing, panting puddle on the mattress. 

It’s what heaven must feel like, he thinks. Blissed out and serene, the weight of her ironing out every adversity he’d ever faced into a single flat line leading to this. Leading to her. 

The saccharine thought sours on his tongue.

What the fuck am I doing? 

—

What the fuck am I doing? 

Charlie pokes at her half-eaten cheese omelette a few times before wrinkling her nose and pushing the plate aside.

As she folds her legs up in the squeaky wooden booth, she allows herself to glance across the table at Din, whose aviators are fixed on her. She doesn’t know that he’s looking at her but she does all the same. No proof except whatever gnaws at her stomach lining. 

“Just like that… There you go. Fuck, that’s perfect.”

Heat rises to her face. 

Averting her gaze, she searches for words to start idle chit chat, but comes up blank. Her mind keeps wandering back to the ghost of his touch. 

“Are you gonna come for me like a good girl?”

She squirms a little, then buys herself some time by taking a slow sip of lukewarm, watered-down coffee. 

This silence isn’t normal. 

She needs to act normal. 

Make conversation. Just don’t mention what happened, because it couldn’t have happened. There’s no way she would allow… that. This.  

No. Not a chance. It didn’t happen. 

It was a dream, that’s all. 

A really really hot dream. 

Drawing a deep breath, she tries on this new version of truth and finds enough comfort to let her shoulders fall away from her ears.

RULE #5: Live in the now. 

Onward and upward. 

Today I will paint the sign and play a show and take every moment as it comes. 

She digs the notebook from her rucksack and pulls the pen from its spine. Flipping to a blank page, she finally breaks the silence. 

“How big would you say the Giddyup sign is, ten by five?” 

Din takes a sip of coffee, then shrugs, “Ten by eight.” 

“Ten by eight?” She frowns, visualizing both ratios on the paper, and concedes, “Ok, yeah. That seems about right. Thanks.” 

Using her thumb as a benchmark, she sections off the page in a rough 5:4 grid. While outlining her design, she watches Din at the edge of her vision, who scans the cafe between sips of coffee. 

“So after this, we pickup clothes from the laundromat, pick up the pup, and head over to Paul’s?” 

“Yes.” 

“My first set starts at eight. Figure I can get most of this done by… pfff, I dunno, five? Maybe six, depending. I’ll have to make myself presentable, eat something, then we can head over to Outlaw.” 

He doesn’t respond. 

“Got any song requests for me?” 

She looks up at his silence and finds his aviators fixed on something across the room. Right in his crosshairs, the waitress jots down a bald man’s order. 

Of course he’s enamored with the waitress. Why wouldn’t he be? 

She has a kind, gentle way about her. She’s delicate and ladylike. She has long, shiny hair and a contagious smile. She probably showers every day. She probably reads the Bible and young adult novels between assigned texts for her nursing school program. She probably has childhood friends and a five-year plan and regular communication with her family. 

Most people are into that sort of thing. 

So sure, it makes sense that he perks up like a dog earning table scraps every time she stops by their table. 

RULE #9: Do not get attached. 

It doesn’t matter that he likes the waitress. Not in the big scheme of things, anyway. She should utilize his tongue-wagging, not detest it. 

The logic is sound, but the feeling inside her doesn’t change. 

Cloying and desperate. 

So fucking stupid. 

If she were traveling with him under her own volition, she would’ve parted ways with him before this had a chance to germinate. 

Yesterday, probably. 

This morning at the latest. 

Right after she woke to find her body curled up against him, his arm draped over her side. His skin felt so warm and good on hers. Comfortable. 

I should have killed him when I had the chance. 

Din shifts. 

She looks up from her gridlocked mountain range in time to see him pull his shoulders back and puff his chest out. 

Predictably, the waitress approaches their table and begins picking dirty dishes off the table, “Can I get y’all anything else?” 

“Just the check is fine,” Din answers. 

“Excellent.” She props the stack of plates on her hip so she can pull the bill from her apron. Placing it face down on the table, she smiles at him, “No rush, just whenever you’re ready.” 

“Thank you,” he nods. 

Charlie gives her a polite smile when she departs, then watches Din’s attention follow.

Red flares through her, a bull in a china shop. 

Fuck. This. 

She flips her notebook closed and tosses it in her rucksack, “You should invite her to the show.” 

His focus snaps back to her. “Why would I do that?” 

“I dunno,” she shrugs, taking out her wallet to evaluate its contents, “Seems like you’re sweet on her. Might as well give it a shot.” 

He draws back and frowns, studying her too close for comfort. 

She grabs the check, doing some quick math before teasing, “Wow, you’re a cheap date.”

“What are you doing?”

“Buying breakfast.“

“There’s no need—”

Waving him off, she wriggles out of the booth and swings her bag over her shoulder as she starts towards the cash register. 

He catches up with enough time to hiss in her ear, “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“All set?” The waitress smiles between them. 

“All set.” Charlie hands her a stack of fives under the check, “The change is for you.”

“Oh, well thank you. I appreciate it,” she punches the total into the register.

“Yeah, of course. It was delicious. And the service was excellent, obviously. But, umm… Hey, you know, if you’re not busy tonight, I’m playing a few sets at Outlaw. You should come.” 

Din’s glare burns a hole in the back of her head, lending her a sick sense of satisfaction. 

The waitress blinks up at her, eyebrows jumping a little, “Oh, are you guys in a band?” 

“No, just me and my guitar. He’s security,” she jerks her thumb over her shoulder at Din, but doesn’t dare turn around. “Anyway, no pressure or anything if you have plans already. But if you don’t, it’ll be a good time.” She leans in closer and drops her volume, “Between you and me, I think he would like it if you came.” 

The waitress chuckles a little, glancing at Din before tucking a wave of hair behind her ear, “I have to check to make sure I don’t have plans, but… Yeah, maybe.” 

“Perfect! Oh—My name is Charlie, by the way,” she nods over her shoulder, “The big guy is Din.” 

“I’m Marla.” 

“Marla,” Charlie repeats, trying to regulate her manufactured enthusiasm, “We’ll see you later, then, yeah?” 

A coy smile spreads across Marla’s face, eyes flicking to Din before she nods, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

—

In the swollen silence of the laundromat, Charlie plucks a freshly-toasted shirt off the clean clothes pile, glancing at Din’s sharp movements beside her as he does the same. 

She swallows the frantic buzzing in her chest that urges her to smooth the tension. 

It was the right thing to do. There needs to be enough distance between them for her to find the escape hatch. 

Discomfort is temporary. This discomfort is necessary. 

She cannot let it get to her. 

RULE #3: Keep your wits—

Din chucks a balled-up shirt back into the pile and spits, “Are you taking this seriously?” 

“The laundry?”

“I told you we need to keep a low profile.” He He faces her, all rigid and puffed up, “First it was the show, then the sign, now you’re trying to get us in with the locals—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome, by the way. I got you a deal with Paul and a date with Marla, plus I’ll get spending cash—”

“We shouldn’t even be in public, let alone keeping a social calendar. You don’t understand how dangerous it is for us to be visible.” 

“Do you really think Marla from The Pantry Cafe is going to ping my location to all your buddies?” She scoffs, trading her folded shirt for her crumpled up pair of jeans. “I highly doubt anyone here gives a shit about me.” 

“That’s not—” He sighs, propping a hand on his hip, “If someone from the guild picks up your trail, they will come for you.” 

She rolls her eyes and tucks the folded jeans in her knapsack, muttering, “What then, you won’t get your finder’s fee?” 

“It’s not about that, it’s about your safety.” 

A voice at the back of her head reminds her she’ll catch more flies with honey than vinegar. 

She almost listens to it, too. Until Din opens his trap to drive his point home further.  

“I know what these people are capable of—”

“Kidnapping and murder, I assume.” 

“There are worse things.”

She turns to him and blinks, “Scare tactics, Din? Really?”

“Not a scare tactic. A reality check.” 

“Oh my fucking—”

“You’re being reckless and you know it.” He squares his shoulders, jabbing her chest as he grinds out, “Tighten. Up.” 

Swatting his hand away, she scowls up at her reflection in his aviators. Her fingers twitch with the impulse to rip them off and stomp them to pieces. 

“You know what? Fuck you.” Searching his face, she envisions barbed wire and life sentences. She hardens to stone and doesn’t dare fucking flinch as she speaks. 

“You keep acting like you’re doing me some big favor because you’re not an absolute fucking ghoul to me. You fucking stand there and say it’s about my safety like you’re protecting me or something, but you’re not. You are protecting an investment. Din. The dollar sign attached to my head. You said it yourself, I am nothing to you but a payload.” 

A bitter laugh escapes her, resentment bubbling up from an old crack in her heart, “You don’t give a shit about my well-being. My fucking safety? Fuck off. You’re delivering me to the same fucking slaughterhouse they would.” 

Every visible sign of anger sloughs off him like dead weight, leaving him with this raw, deflated expression that undermines her certainty. 

As she stares at him, bracing for a response, her own self-righteous fury withers up and dies in her chest. It turns to a plea. 

Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me it’s not about the money. 

Taking a step back, he turns and starts shoveling clothes into his backpack. “Let’s go. We’re already behind schedule.” 

It shouldn’t feel like a punch in the gut, but it does. 

She nods solemnly, then falls back into place helping him clear the folding table. 

—

Din crosses the vacant road from Jackalope Motel to Giddyup Auto, holding Grogu’s leash taut at his side so he can’t wander.

Dawn begins to eat away at the night sky, dusty orange fading to light blue, leaving only a tiny sliver of dark over in the west. Daylight dyes wispy eastern clouds blood red and banishes morning fog, drying up the damp that collected overnight.

Ahead of him, Charlie’s dusty green knapsack sags from her squared shoulders, swaying back and forth like a pendulum with each purposeful stride. She keeps her spine straight and her eyes forward and an invisible yardstick between them, as she has since their spat in the laundromat. 

The distance is necessary, though. For both of them. 

Somewhere along the way, he allowed the line drawn between them to become blurred. He lost all definition. It never should have happened in the first place. 

He should be grateful she had enough sense to pull the trigger this time. 

Grogu perks up and lets out a small, “Boof.” 

Din tears his eyes away from Charlie’s backpack to see Paul emerge from the shop, waving at Charlie, who walks up to greet him. They both look back at Din, then Paul tells her something that makes her snort with laughter. It’s strange, he thinks, how she can flip her demeanor at the drop of the hat. 

As he draws closer to the conversation, his ears attune to her voice.  

“… this is the easy part, honestly. I should be able to finish up before sundown.”

Paul grins, hooking his thumbs in the belt loops of his coveralls, “Seems we’re runnin’ on the same timeline then.”

“Oh. You mean…?” Charlie shuts her mouth and glances at Din when he comes to a stop within their circle of conversation. 

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Paul teases. “I was just telling Miss Charlie here that the rig should be finished up quick, long as I don’t find any surprises.” 

Din frowns, “By tonight?” 

“That’s what it’s lookin’ like.” 

“I thought it would take longer.” 

“Made good time,” Paul shrugs. “Figured y’all would be itching to get back on the road.” 

Grogu starts whining at Charlie, who crouches down to pet him. The dog heels and pins his ears back, lapping at her hands as she gives him all her attention. 

Din clears his throat and gives Paul a nod of appreciation, “How much do I owe you?” 

“Lookin’ at twelve hundred, give or take. We can settle up later.” 

“Hey Paul, can I grab your tall ladder?” Charlie gives Grogu a pat before rising to her feet, “Oh, and do you have an extra stereo I could I borrow for the day? I don’t want the big guy to chat my ear off.” 

Paul cackles while she shoots Din a teasing look that makes his blood pressure spike. 

“Come on, I’ll see if I can’t find one for ya.”

—

CEO Pushes City to ‘Clear Homeless from the Streets’ in Open Letter to Portland Mayor. 

Amidst recent controversy surrounding the growing homeless population in Portland, one local businessman speaks out on behalf of property owners. 

In an open letter to Mayor Ed Kneeler released this morning, Tom Bucheron, CEO of Empire Property Management, LLC, calls for the Mayor Kneeler to “take action against the epidemic of homelessness in Portland,” which, he goes on to claim, presents undue financial burden on Portland property owners.

Din follows the link to a PDF of the letter, looking up from his screen to observe Charlie as it loads. 

On her perch at the top of the ladder, she paints while singing along to some 80’s power ballad on the radio. The blonde bun at the crown of her head, lops from one side to the other as she bops around to the beat. 

With her constant squawking and beak of a nose, she sometimes resembles an ill-tempered bird. This only solidifies the likeness in his mind. A yellow cockatiel whose domesticity never took. She screams and nips at those who dare try closing her cage door. 

She glances back over her shoulder, so he drops his eyes to the screen of his tablet. 

Mayor Ed Kneeler: 

I call upon you today to take action against the epidemic of homelessness in Portland. 

In recent years, we have seen a dramatic rise in homelessness, drug-related and violent crimes, and overdoses. We have also seen property values plummet as of late. I have been residential property management and real estate investment for 34 years. I’ve seen property values ebb and flow with the market, and can say with certainty that our current state is unprecedented.

Homeless encampments are epicenters for crime and disease, sprouting up through the cracks of our beautiful city and spreading at a disastrous rate. Property values suffer. As such, the real Portland citizens suffer. Those of us who have families and homes here. The real Portland citizens, we invest in our community through fellowship and commonwealth. We are the lifeblood of this city and we are suffering dearly. Dually so are Portland property owners. Our property values plummet with the blight of homelessness. Not only that, but we also foot the bill for welfare and social programs with our taxes so that the City can enable the miscreants that come in droves to suck up our resources. 

In a lineup of cities comparable in size and population density, Portland stands out for all the wrong reasons: low property values, high crime rates, high taxes, and an epidemic of homelessness. Cities that rigorously enforce vagrancy laws reap the benefits of higher property values and lower crime rates. 

It couldn’t be clearer. The City should strive to eradicate homelessness in Portland, not enable it. Today I ask that you enact a citywide ban on vagrancy and start disbanding encampments. 

The only reason I ask this of you in such a public forum, Mayor Kneeler, is because I question your motives for not addressing this matter sooner. 

Do you act on behalf of the real citizens of Portland, or in your own self-interest? If your peers in the Democratic Party frown upon law and order, does that affect your decision-making? While pondering whether or not to act on this problem, what holds more weight? Potential backlash to your career, or the burdens suffered by real citizens of Portland? 

Please do not let your pursuit of legacy destroy our beloved city. Step up and do what’s right. 

Sincerely, 

Tom. 

Din saves the PDF and checks on Grogu, still curled up in a ball beneath his chair. He looks up at Charlie, who went quiet when the radio started warbling the weekend forecast. 

As she rolls green acres onto the sign with quick, short strokes, her fluffed-up bun still bops back and forth like she’s dancing with just her head. Probably singing to herself. 

Did she tell him the truth about what happened in Portland? 

It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Whether it’s true or not, she was right. He’s delivering her to the slaughterhouse. 

Normally he finds comfort in this ambivalence. This time it settles like lead in his belly, heavy and poisonous. 

He digs the phone from his pocket and dials Karga. 

“Din! Just the man I wanted to speak to.”

He frowns, “Why?” 

“The client is looking for an update on the asset. You still have it, correct?” 

“Yes.” 

“When can they expect your arrival?”

His gaze wanders to Charlie, painting away without a care in the world. Guilt twists his stomach raw. 

“What do they want with her?” 

A beat goes by before Karga responds. 

“They didn’t tell me and I didn’t ask. Neither should you, if you know what’s good for you.” 

Din looks down at the gravel and nods. “I’ll have her there by Sunday at the latest.” 

[polakina]

JAVIER REQUEST PLS OMG- We all like latin, suave lover Javier but what if we mix that with a lil bit of awkward Javier?? Javier who says the wrong, rizzless things whenever he tries to be suave and it ends up sounding like he's being threatening??

I think it would be silly if Javier fell for reader who tried to pick pocket him at a bar (he noticed ofc- she ain't slick-) and promptly invited her to come with him and join the gang or else he'll report her to the Sheriff for pick pocketing (he can't think of a fast enough excuse to make her stay).

i love love LOVE this idea. nonnie i love u

pls send more requests, this one is amazing

rating: mature

pairing: javier escuella x reader

follow the trail

You’d noticed him across the store about twenty minutes ago. He stood with a larger, more loudly spoken man who looked as though he was trying to start a fight with the store keeper. The Spanish man just stood there, leaning against the counter, looking like he didn’t want to be there. You found it sort of amusing, how fed up he looked.

Shielding yourself from view behind the shelves, you planned your idea, mapping it out in your head. The loud spoken man eventually stormed out of the building, leaving just you, the Latino and the shopkeeper.

You could do it now. Sneak behind him as though you were waiting in line, steal from his back pocket where you could quite clearly see a bill fold just waiting to be lifted from him. It’d be easy. Like the thousand other times you’d done it.

Javier eyed you from his peripheral. You’d pretended to eye coffee tins for a while now. Nobody looked at coffee that long. Your eyes had flitted between himself and Bill. Something in your eyes brightened once Bill had left the store, not even casting a glance at you.

So he was your target. Not Bill. Not the shopkeeper. Just as he’d suspected, you’d had a firm gaze on his back pocket since even before you’d entered the store. The bill fold he’d conveniently left in view drew your attention right to him. He’d felt your presence quite close behind him and Bill on the walk through Valentine. Not too close to draw attention, but not so far that you’d lose him in a crowd. You were good. But not as good as him.

He paid for his things and left. You grabbed a few tins of coffee and some assorted biscuits off the shelf and side stepped into view, head down. Your shoulder bumped his and you turned to apologise, your free hand reaching around his rear, delicate fingers lifting the folded papers out of his pocket. 

“Apologies, mister,” you smiled sweetly, looking up at him. He was handsome, you noticed. A freckle dotted face and dark moustache covering his lips.  You hadn’t noticed that from afar.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he smiled back, tipping his hat to you. “Should have watched where I was going.” With that, he left, leaving you richer and him none the wiser. You smirked to yourself, paying for your groceries and making your way to the door. You didn’t see the silhouettes in the window, two men waiting outside the store. Exiting the shop, you paid them no mind, but they had their eyes on you.

“Got what you needed, Javier?” Bill asked him as he exited the shop, a smirk playing at Javier’s lips. 

“No help from you, hermano,” Javier rolled his eyes, leaning against the wall of the general store. He lit a cigarette, waiting for the familiar bell ring of the door to sound. “You’re lucky he even served me after the shit you called him.”

“He said I was drunk! Thought I was a danger to him ‘in the state I was in. Goddamn idiot.”

“And are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Drunk?”

Javier laughed as Bill stumbled, unable to formulate a defence for himself. Of course, whatever defence he did come up with would have been a lie. He’d been drinking whiskey since the sun rose. Of course he was drunk.

“What you even doing, Escuella? We should be getting back to camp,” Bill pointed out, finally realising that Javier hadn’t even moved to make his way to his horse yet.

“Just gimme a sec, Williamson. There’s someone I’m waiting for,” he mused vaguely, turning his head towards the door as the lady who’d stolen from him exited the store.

You felt an arm grab you, and your head whipped towards the same man you’d robbed. Shit. “Hey, look I apologised for bumping into you, you don’t need to take this further,” you pulled from his grip easily. He wasn’t trying to restrain you, he just wanted your attention.

“Javier, you waited all this time for a girl? Come on, man, we’ve got shit to do,” the other  man groaned, turning to stumble towards his horse, quite ungracefully, you might add.

“Not here about you bumping into me, chica,” Javier spoke, his tone steady, friendly. He leaned against the store post, smiling. You stood on the top step, a head shorter than him. “I’m here for the money you stole from me.” His accent tingled at something inside you. You hadn’t heard his accent much around Valentine. It wasn’t common. But you liked it. 

“Well, that was a little abrupt, wasn’t it?” You asked, cocking your head, your heart thumping in your chest. It wasn’t often you got caught. You had to figure your way out of this one. Perhaps if you played with a meaner, more defensive streak, he might back off. “You’d do well not to go about accusing people like that.”

His eyebrows rose and his intimidating demeanour backed off.

He’d got you. He saw it in your eyes. You were trying to think of a lie that could get you out of this. To anyone else, your smile and sweet expression would have gotten you a slap on the wrist before getting sent off about your day. It could have worked for him. But Javier was looking to recruit. You seemed a perfect candidate.

“I want my money back, and I’ll get it one way or another,” he said. It came across more threatening that he’d have liked. Especially when he saw your eyes squint and your entire body tense. “But…but…perhaps if you gave it back, I could spend it on something nice, like taking you out for a drink? Hmm?”

You’d have thought he’d never talked to a woman before. First he accused you, then he asked you out for a drink? The man was all over the place. “So…you accuse me of stealing from you? And now…you want me to go for a drink with you? I think you’ve smoked too many cigarettes, mister,” you laughed, moving to walk away, but he stepped in front of you before you could leave.

“The bill folds. They were in my back pocket. I can’t lie, it was a pretty good lift. Better than I’ve seen in a while,” he smirked, looking down at you with a genuinely happy smile. “But not good enough, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened. There wasn’t a way out now. He’d caught you red handed. Fuck.

“I don’t-”

“Look,”he leaned forward, his scent in your nose now, smoke wafting in your face as he spoke. His face inched closer to yours, and if you didn’t feel as though you were about to be outed, you’d probably have blushed. “We could use someone like you. You’re good at what you do, that much is evident. Seems like you wanna make money, I can help with that.”

That wasn’t exactly what you were expecting. “I ain’t looking for a job, mister,” you whispered, leaning in closer. “Not if it ain’t legal.”

He chuckled softly, his shoulders shaking as he tilted his head back. He had a pretty laugh. “Honey, I don’t think you’ve ever done a legal thing since you could walk. You rob people as easy as you breathe.”

“Not happening.”

Javier quirked his brow. “Let me rephrase this, hermosa. You can come with me, and my good friend Bill over there,” he pointed at Bill, who swayed against his horse, humming to himself across the street. “Or…I go tell that lovely sheriff over there that you stole from me. I’d love to see how you fare in jail. With a pretty face like that, you might get out in a couple weeks.”

“Are blackmailing me with a prison sentence to come join your rag tag crew of outcasts?!” Your eyes practically bulged out of your head and you couldn’t suppress the laugh that escaped you, it wasn’t friendly, exactly. More just out of sheer surprise.

“Uhm…well…okay, so,” Javier rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Not exactly a smooth talker, he was beginning to learn. “It’s your only option, love.”

Honestly, it wasn’t a bad option. At least you wouldn’t be scavenging for scraps for the rest of your life. Hmm. You cocked your head to the side, looking at Javier with contemplating eyes. “Blackmail wasn’t the ideal way to go about it…” Javier chuckled nervously as you spoke, looking down at his feet. “But you’re lucky I’m desperate for somewhere more comfortable to sleep.”

Riding back to their camp, you looked over to Javier, whose eye caught yours. He smiled softly. “You know I wouldn’t have turned you into the sheriff, right?”

You huffed a chuckle, shaking your head. “I know that it would have been a stupid move from you, Javier,” you smirked.

“You still got my money?”

Raising your eyebrows, you turned to face the road. “Thought you were going to take me out for a drink with that money?” You heard him laugh to your right. “I’ll keep a hold of that money until you go through with that promise.”

He liked your spark. “Anything for you, hermosa.”

[namranii]

Pls I need more sniper x reader....ggrfgrffg I need this stupid idiot man. I don't even know what scenario, I just NEED this man

Please and thankyou :3

yippe (this is a bit rushed forgive me)

bro gets sunburned so easily, be prepared to to put a lot of sunscreen on his back.

corny asf bro.

knows a lot about natural medicines, so when medics not around be prepared to swallow cinnamon or something.

loves to take you out on midnight drives in his van + stargazing on the roof of the van.

literal golden retriever. he acts like a black cat type of boyfriend because he tries to be non-chalant like that but he tries too much.

FRECKLES FRECKLES FRECKLES!!!!!!

his biggest insecurity would be his nose for sure.

lets you wear his hat.

if you’ve had any sort of issue with your father, he’s your built in father figure.

great alcohol tolerance, very heavy weight.

has a giant stuffed bear in the corner of his bedroom. when you’re not around, he takes it and pretends its you.

dancing under the stars 🤑

[johnnycakesswitch]

Soda having one of those high pitched laughs that get squeaky when he’s laughing really hard

Soda always cheating at cards and Steve always letting him

Steve purposely showing off how strong he is when girls are around the DX but it’s not for them it’s for Soda

Steve being REALLY good at whistling somehow

Steve and Evie who were childhood friends and are now each others beards

Soda and Steve dancing in the DX garage after hours

Steve laying with his head on Sodas chest for comfort after being kicked out and Soda playing with his hair

Steve finding Soda on the front porch of the Curtis house while his brothers are arguing loudly inside

Steve attempting to count Sodas freckles while he’s sleeping

Ponyboy hating that his brother is dating Steve but also seeing how much happier his brother is vs when he was with Sandy

Soda randomly revealing mean things Sandy said to him when they were dating and Steve wanting to burn the town down

Steve pretending he doesn’t like physical affection but he secretly loves when Soda hangs all over him

Soda always holding onto Steve’s arm whenever possible

Something about them patching each other up after rumbles

Something something Steve finding Soda after he’d been jumped one evening and not letting him go anywhere alone for months after

Something something Steve and Soda are exact opposites and therefore a perfect fit something

My sweet babies 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Live love stevepop

Every single one of these are perfect. Pls keep feeding me stevepop guys we need more of it like you can’t tell me they aren’t perfect for each other!!!

Also- I love the idea of mlm/wlw Steve and Evie bc as much as I love Stevepop the idea of Steve and Evie is so cute too so I love when Stevepop still incorporates her like yes they are bffs!!! Evie is the number 1 Stevepop supporter those are her bffs, her 4lyfers bruh, they’re a trio I love them

I love all of these so much thank you for blessing me with Stevepop 🙏❤️ now MORE 👹

[kishizaki7]

freckled forge! hiccup as a pony :)

ok i know i drew his prosthetic on the wrong leg… but im too tired to fix it pls pretend i did it right

[wri0thesley]

intimate knowledge for diluc and nanamin pls

intimate knowledge ୧ ‧₊˚ what are some hidden features of ur fﾉo that not many people are privy to ? things like a secret birthmark, the fact that they are ambidextrous, the bump on their nose that is actually the result of breaking it as a child. do these small facts about them fascinate u ? do the stories behind them make u swoon for them even more, if possible ?

diluc is a gardener; when he gives me bouquets, they are ones he cultivated himself. he sings to his plants in a low baritone and gets embarrassed if anybody hears him, the tips of his ears going red. he has a sprinkling of freckles across his nose - but they’re on his hips, too. his shoulders. his back. he has plenty of scars from training as a knight but he also has some from childish misadventures with kaeya; climbing too high walls, rescuing lost toys from a group of slimes in the woods. he baby talks to his falcon. he feeds all of the stray cats around angel’s share; he gets worried when familiar ones stop stopping by.

nanami has a beautiful voice that he only lets a few people hear. he has a collection of pompompurin themed underwear that i gave him and though he pretends to be above it, the first year i didn’t get him a pair for his birthday he got a little sulky. he volunteers to cook at homeless shelters during holidays. he buys a tacky magnet from every place he visits and puts them on his fridge. he pretends to only drink black coffee but whenever we visit cutesy cafes he orders the sugariest whipped cream concoction on the menu.

self ship asks!

[lottiesnotebook]

need me some rook!cara & anders content pls.

"your OC’s doctor/healer talking about their injuries"

So the background everyone else will need for this AU is that in my heart, the Lighthouse's Caretaker is in fact Justice keeping an eye on his scapegrace daughter.

Anders & Cara 'Rook' Hawke-Laidir, parenting, fluff

@adainesjacket | @dadrunkwriting

"I cannot believe," Cara grumbles, from the nest of blankets she's been buried in since Treviso- since Minrathous- since she had to make a choice without knowing how much the world would end because of it, "that Varric snitched to my dad that I wasn't getting back to work."

"Varric?" Anders' brow furrows. "No, Justice fetched me as soon as I heard you were injured." He smooths a hand over her forehead like she's a little girl playing sick to get out of school, the cool brush of a dreamer's touch rather than the warm, callused reality of his hands.

He usually let her get away with playing sick, then. She doesn't think Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain will be quite as indulgent. One doesn't get to call in sick from the apocalypse, even with a cracked skull, three broken ribs and frostbite across half her body.

"Justice shouldn't snitch," she pouts, and he gives a forced laugh that does not disguise his worry:

"You sound just like your mother when you say that." His brow furrows as he unwraps her blanket pile to reveal her battered, bruised body that Lace and Bellara between them had manipulated into a night shirt. "Cracked skull, three broken ribs, frostbite… What have you been doing, to end up in this much trouble?"

"Fought a dragon," she says, attempting to sound casual, and failing. "A horrible, Blighted dragon. Probably way worse than the one in the Bone Pit you made up."

"That dragon was very real," Anders says, as he always does - this is one of their oldest games. She will pretend he's made up one of his adventures with her mother, and he'll raise source after source to refute it. "Ask your Aunt Isabela if you still don't believe me."

She blows a raspberry, then winces at the pressure it puts on her aching ribs. "Aunt Isabela would cover for you because it makes her look cooler."

Anders hisses in sympathy, presses down lightly on her ribs. "The same three you broke at Skyhold. I'm having words with that Harding girl-"

"Daddy," she whines, miserably reduced from twenty-one to twelve in a single blow. "You can't blame Lace for this one. She's the one who had to patch me up."

She'd been frantic, too, from what Cara's blurred memories showed her - so pale her freckles had stood out like stars as she tried to form a makeshift brace for her neck from the rubble of Treviso's market.

"And yet," he grumbles, "these things always happen around her. Varric too. Isabela should never have let you run off with both of them, it was asking for trouble." Cool magic flows from his fingers and she sighs in blessed relief as her ribs crack back into place.

"You said it was asking for trouble when I wanted to join the Lords in the first place," Cara pointed out.

"And you caused a diplomatic incident two years in!"

She shrugs, winces, and stops trying to shrug till he's checked her over more thoroughly. "And where do you think I learned that from?"

He sighs. "A point fairly made, which is why I can't ask why I find you in the middle of an apocalypse as soon as you're left unsupervised for five minutes."

"I'm not unsupervised!" she argues, though she realises the slur in her words is not helping. Her father's hands wrap around her skull, and there's a sickening crunch as the plates begin to reform. "I have Varric, and Lace…"

"Cara-hase…" He smooths back her hair from her face. "Look at you. If I could come here in person, I'd bring you home now. Maker knows Justice would if he could, and as for your mother…"

"I know," she sighs, letting her eyes flicker closed despite her desire to bask in the warmth of her father's closeness, even through the flimsy magic of a dream, "but I helped cause this mess, Daddy. I have to be the one to clean it up, don't I?"

Another hissing sigh through his teeth. "You didn't get that from me, did you?"

Her mind drifts back to a day long ago in Skyhold, when she'd learned the truth about their last day in Kirkwall - her mother's flight, her father's disappearance. She could have forgiven him for the Chantry, Varric had said, maybe even the lying, but he asked her to kill him, after the years she spent cleaning up after other people-

"No, Daddy," she murmurs, as sleep pulls her under, and wakefulness pulls him away from her, "You taught me that."

Healer's notes

Attending healer: Anders Laidir

Patient: Cara Hawke-Laidir

Diagnosis: Cracked skull, three broken ribs, multiple contusions, minor frostbite over 70% of the body, major frostbite in lower left leg.

Treatment: Magical healing applied to broken bones and worst contusions. I have left a tincture of embrium and Andraste's tears to be applied twice daily until the frostbite and the rest of the bruising fade. Please see the reverse of this note for the recipe.

Scout Harding, take care of my daughter. She still thinks she's immortal. I never want to find out she isn't.

[connorstollenthusiast]

Lee Fletcher Headcanons

* These are kinda just all over the place.. so forgive me for that

A/n - OKAY, yes I totally know he's like the most random side character, BUT HE WASN’T TO ME OKAY?!?💔

Lee DEFINITELY has freckles

He’s definitely also super, SUPPERR tan, like it’s genuinely concerning how fast he tans.

One of those people who doesn’t get sun burnt, just gets tan

I feel like he’s around 6 foot something

Lee stays at camp year round, due to his mom not really wanting him in her new life much

He keeps diary’s, and has been activity keeping them since he was like 11

He wears socks with sandals

Lord, he has this green sweatshirt that has been with him through HELL

Like it's his signature outfit..

sigh, if that sweatshirt could talk..

One of his favorite activities (outside of archery) is crafting overly elaborate playlists..

You'll know he likes you if he lets you listen to music with him 💔

Always has headphones in, even when people are talking to him

Like it's so annoying, PLEASE at least pretend you're listening 😭

He has a box under his bed of random things that his friends have given him

Or just stuff that reminds him of people and moments

I feel like he's one of those 'universally liked people' at camp

I don't actually know where he'd be from...

Maybe like..Montana?? I dunno??

I think he would like Mario Kart 64, like specifically

Also plays games like Pokémon, and Zelda

His favorite Pokémon games would be soul-sliver, and alola.

A just dance MASTER

Like wins every time, it's kinda to the point everyone thinks he's cheating

LOVESSS strawberry jam

Could eat 12 peanut butter jelly sandwiches if someone let him

(Pls don't let him..)

Owns a digital camera

He takes photos of literally EVERYONE and everything

Don't let him catch you lacking 😭 you WILL be going on the 'memory wall' above his bunk.

[captain-mj]

"It’s because he’s doing some illegal Things (with Graves) as well :)" ELABERTIOJ PLS???

srry am drunl 😳

Yeah, I can definitely do that CW: Drug use and sex work

Price shouldn't. He knew that. But every week or two, he broke down and did this. Honestly, he didn't feel that guilty either. Just knew if this got out, he'd never live it down. His reputation would be ruined.

Graves arrived, smiling at him. "You called?"

"Get undressed." Price ordered, leaning against the wall.

Graves blushed and slowly took everything off, moving so Price could see very inch that he exposed. Little scars on his back. Freckles and beauty marks. Tight ass.

"Fucking hell."

"Love that no matter how many times I undress, you still get so excited." Graves commented, but Price could see the creeping blush. As much as he tried to pretend he was suave and experienced, Price did something to him. Made him a blushing fucking virgin. Or maybe that was part of the act. "Didn't prep myself. I know you wanted to last time."

Price took a deep drag of the cigar and set it down, putting Graves over his desk. "Pay a lot of money. Want to do exactly what I want. That's the point, right? The fantasy?"

Graves nodded and moved so his foot was on the edge of the desk. It gave Price a better view of him. His pupils were wider than normal. A clear sign he likely was not sober.

Price kissed him hard. "You're perfect, love."

Graves grinned and arched a little. "Will have to charge you, but you know that. You have the money right?"

Price ignored him in favor of kissing down his body. He wasn't sure which part would destroy his life faster. That he hired a prostitute or that he looked the other way at his drug use. Either way, he couldn't help himself. He sank to his knees and dragged Graves to the edge, ignoring his little squeal. His tongue squirmed it's way into Graves, his hands keeping him still so he couldn't escape it.

Graves twisted and writhed like an animal, never able to get more than an inch away.

Price quickly lost himself in the repetitive movements. Slowly using his tongue to break him open and get him prepped. After a moment, he pushed his finger in too, just to get him more open. He wants to own him. Every inch of skin. Every muscle that he can. Maybe he could just rip him to shreds or eat him whole. Run his tongue along his veins and drink him down.

Graves shuddered and tangled his fingers in his hair. "Come on now. You only have me tonight. I'm sure you want to actually fuck me."

Price bit the inside of his thigh as hard as he could, drawing blood. "Fuck off. I'm well aware."

Graves moaned, looking at the ceiling. "You're lucky I have a soft spot for you, John. Otherwise, I might not let you treat me like this. Such foul language. All your friends know how you treat me?"

Price licked over the bite. "No. That's why I hire you. Privacy."

"John. Hurry up. I'd like to get fucked some time today, please." Graves broke, not above begging. Never above begging. He wanted to be rearranged and broken in bed. Something John specialized in.

Price picked him up, balancing him so his legs were over his shoulders. He continued to eat him out as he walked, balancing him with ease. Graves squealed and squirmed, never happy about the fact that Price could carry him so easily. When he hit the bed, he bounced just a little before he just fell back into the bed.

Price pounced and grabbed the rope, easily tying Graves so he was bent in half. His knees were tied to his chest, leaving vulnerable.

"What do you fantasize about?" Graves asked as Price poured lube on himself. "Keeping twinks in your bed?"

"Not twinks. Just you. Just want you." One day, he swore he just wasn't going to let him leave. Would keep him tied up until he promised he'd be his sugar baby. Or maybe just his pet. Either way. As long as he got all of him. Could douse the dark feeling in his chest. Maybe he could finally be human all the time when he could come home and take as much pleasure as he wanted.

Graves flushed. "You flatter me." He exposed his throat and Price nipped it as he pushed in. He was purposely a bit rougher, stretching him just right. A little pain always made Graves melt. His body bending and trying to take even more if he could. "Not so deep."

Price thrust in hard and fit his hand around his throat. He squeezed hard to watch Graves's eyelashes flutter. "Gorgeous." He thrust in harder, ignoring the littler whimper. His cock leaked on to both of their stomachs, hard and red at the tip. "You enjoy this so much. Little whore."

Graves gasped and his eyes rolled back as Price hit the right spot. He cruelly teased him, hitting it once, twice, missing it entirely. Until Graves was trying to angle himself to get it right. Tears filled his eyes, but Price focused on just dragging it out. Letting him get riled up.

"John, please."

Price missed again, going as deep as he could instead.

"Lover boy, come on!"

Dirty trick. Evil honestly.

Price wrapped his arms around him and drove into him over and over and over again. Right there for him. Graves gasped and tried to catch his breath, tears flowing down his face.

Gorgeous.

He came all over himself. Price licked a stripe up the cum on his chest before he came inside him. Coating his insides in it. Graves fluttered around him, biting his lip as he gazed up at Price.

"One day, I'll convince you to never leave."

Graves stared up at him. Something like pity in his drugged up eyes. "I'm sure."