#i have decided to cut that tho. at least for now. because im too tired to properly get into it

[gemharvest]

Sometimes I see people approach topics from a within-canon POV meanwhile it's something that I can only think of in regards to the team behind it (or outside of canon), and that's so fascinating to me. Like I think both positions can be valid, there's just some stuff that I see and I can no longer think within canon I just go "wow the writers really sucked about this" and I kinda just gain sympathy for the character, at least given that they're supposed to be sympathetic characters despite whatever the writers dropped the ball on. So it's wild to see when someone talks about it from within canon because I just, cannot respond properly. At least half of my thoughts would be reliant on me going "So my issue with this is less the characters actions and more how the characters were written to act" which might not make sense, idk, but is an important distinction to me.

[leclsrc]

do you want it? ✴︎ cs55

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

word count: 10.5k  

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

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

nsfw warnings under the cut!

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

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

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

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

“Portugal is not boring.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lando whistles. “Rich.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t you knock?!” You ask, catty.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry. Wh—sorry, what?” You blink.

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

“Good?” Carlos asks, smiling a little.

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

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

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

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

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

Something tells him he’s wrong, though.

—

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

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

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

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

“Try fourteen,” you argue. 

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

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

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

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

“I am not a big reader. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For what?”

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

He squints. “Beer?”

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

“What’s the problem with beer, hmm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

The implication sends Carlos into a spiral of thought.

“—here’s your spot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Brat,” he responds.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

He really shouldn’t. “Sí.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feel good?

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m cumming—!

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

“I said fuck me.”

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

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

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

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

“Carlos,” you whimper, voice aching.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And if your dad walked in?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You look pretty.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

[lightboundhellhound]

half asleep too tired to brain but. uh. idk what to ask just give information about creatures

okokok!!!! under the cut cos this is a lot of words skjdfkk

chip: half cat half fox because thats possible ig. the youngest of the group, she has a lot of energy and always wants to play. she’s determined to befriend bing even though he’s antagonistic af and doesn’t want friends. chip was found by duke when she was like a day old, and ive decided just now that duke has a family, a wife and three kittens, and chip fit right in (even if she’s a bit bigger thanks to her fox genes)

duke: the oldest of the group and the leader. he lost an eye when a dog attacked him :( for a while he wanted nothing to do with dogs until he got to know tyler (a dog i haven’t drawn yet) (well not since 2018, here’s an old drawing)

duke didn’t trust tyler but jupiter vouched for him, and so he joined the junkyard jaminals. duke and tyler are actually besties now!

bing: so emo. hates everyone 🥰 while duke went through hell and still has hope, bing went through hell and his hope died. he’s pessimistic, kind of a jerk, and is only a junkyard jaminal because duke insists on “fixing him”. he kinda serves as bombs second in command, and they’re both in charge of keeping outsiders away. he’s less enthusiastic about than bomb is lol

jupiter: she’s dukes wife! she’s co-leader of the junkyard jaminals and chips mom :33 she’s incredibly stealthy, having grown up on the streets with her brothers and parents and learning how to survive without being caught by animal control

squiggle: he’s in charge of surveillance, watching from his tower for any incoming enemies or threats. he mostly naps up there though cos nothing ever tends to happen. also he’s lazy ksjdkfk chip likes to visit tho! squiggle takes the opportunity to teach her how to watch for danger so he can nap lmao

clementine: one of jupiter and dukes kids and juneberry’s twin sister! she’s the nurse, helping juneberry take care of injured or sick jaminals. she doesn’t really enjoy it, and would rather be a fighter like bomb or bing. but duke and jupiter won’t let her cos they don’t want her getting hurt

juneberry: the doctor cat, and clementines twin! they call each other twins cos while there are three in their litter, they look way more similar to each other than they do with their other sibling i have yet to design ;^^ juneberry loves being a doctor cat! she’s all about helping her friends and family <3 she’s very silly btw

tallulah: idk what she actually is? i adopted her from another artist cos i loved her design but it didn’t occur to me that. i should have at least some idea of how she fits in the narrative? for now let’s say she’s a lab experiment that wasn’t supposed to be sentient. and now she helps with surveillance cos. she has wings? idk

xveca: she’s from a planet that was taken over by mars (space colonialism smh). she escaped, and was on her way to mars to fight those guys, but as she passed the sun her ship went haywire and she crashed on earth. duke and jupiter are the only ones who know she’s an alien. she’s very confused by earth customs and such. duke and jupiter have taught her a lot tho! she’s in charge of finding food

muffin: idk how she fits in the narrative actually. i never decided. she’s very sweet tho

bubbles: same here. he and muffin were such wasted potential </3 he loves to play!

bomb: she has an explosive temper (haha) but she’s loyal to the very end and very kind. she’s in charge of guarding the junkyard and handling threats however she sees fit (bing helps). she has this cool power where if she wants to she can explode, but it uses up one of her nine lives

now i need to design jupiter and dukes son and im golden! lmao

[moreonthisanon]

06/25/2023

I wanna change the subject for this week.

Because, like i said before, i don't want to talk about the same thing every entry and bore myself and everyone reading. So, instead of that, i figured I'd finally write something down about the friends I'd lost years ago, because of reasons i know and that are too long and exhausting to explain for the public.

So sorry for not giving you any context, regardless, im sure a lot of people can relate to this in some way.

If memory serves, it's been about 5 years since i had the big fall out with my 2 friends. At the time i thought they were my friends, but i guess they had other ideas.

With this entry, i wanted to really reminisce about what it was that happened, why it happened, and what it has done to me in the present, all that good stuff.

Which is the exact reason i made this account to analyze my trauma and maybe get something from it. Really think about the events that have played out in my life and see what i could learn from them or how they effected me and how i think now. I definitely have less drive to talk to people or open up enough to make friends again that's for sure, so that's a thing.

Getting back on track, i wanted to really ruminate on what they said afterwards and how it effected me and how i feel about it/them now.

To give you a jist of context, so you can attempt to understand the basis of what happened:

× Prior to the end of it all, there was already a gradual conflict going on between us everytime we interacted. So the blow up was bound to happen. It was just a matter of when.

× My husband and I were already on edge all the time because that was just the beginning of the stress that continued for the next 6 years to now. So it didn't help when they'd complain about not being able to hang out because we were busy with work blah blah blah.

× As well as underlying speculation from my end about them because of what i heard from my husband of what they told him about me, so of course he told me.

× So when the big scene came: I said something , not trying to be rude or mean in any way, about my friends baby she had. Neither of them liked it. They attacked and cornered me (on Facebook). That's when i cut it off. I said I'm done, I'm taking a break from us. From you. From this. We've been nothing but at each other's throats about misunderstandings for a year, I'm tired of it. I was already dealing with a lot at the time. It was too much. So i dropped it and literally unfriended them and left all of our group chats. They considered it dramatic, anytime they said anything, we blew it up and made them to be the enemy. Good stuff, you know.

× As of now, i refriended them, but i have not talked to them. Occasionally i congratulate them or say happy birthday, but that's it. One of them tried to talk to me recently, cautiously, but it didn't go too far.

Before i refriended them, i don't know how long after the blow up, if it was the day of or after, i don't know. They both sent me a paragraph basically saying:

'A lot of things were said that shouldn't have been said, we're all stressed, it's okay if you don't wanna be friends anymore, even tho i don't wanna lose my friend of 10+ years, I'll be hear if you ever wanna talk again.'

So basically, they understood that it was over the top, cool. But i haven't responded to either of them.

Which brings me to the part where i look back on what happened and think about the 'What now?'

Now at this very moment in time, I've already decided that we will never be friends again. At least not what we were. And even then, i can't bring myself to think how different it could possibly be if we tried. Another fight would surely happen again, right?

So, it's already been decided, we can never be friends again.

But the thing that's gets me every time i think back about it and their last paragraph sign offs.

At the end of it all, neither of them ever actually apologized to me.... That's what really sticks out to me. So I'm thinking, that's why i can't forgive them, among other things of course. That's the one thing holding me back and stopping me from getting over it 5 years later...right?

At the time I'm sure they still thought they were in the right. So they thought nothing of it, they just wanted me to stop being dramatic and come back to them, probably. I won't speak for them. I wouldn't know. But there was no 'I'm sorry' or 'I was wrong' in their paragraphs anywhere.

Maybe to them, 'A lot of things were said that shouldn't have been said...' was their apology, but it wasn't enough for me without the actual words. And it still isn't.

- MoreOnThisAnon

[iamthemain-character]

Hiii its me again lol I apologize in advance English is not my first language

I love your work <3

I have a lot of ideas but now I want to request something about karl again if thats okayy:)

I am really in the mood for anything rn but I want to request something angsty(?)thing if you are okay with that of course,(because I usually dream about things like this lol I really have like my own Wattpad story in my subconcious) like him treathing reader wrong because he is not in the mood for hugs or something,or him thinking it is the best for both to have a break in their relationship but at the end he realized he was wrong, at the fluff tho pls

Im sorry if this is long it is literally 1:24 am and I am in creative mood

Anyways thank you so much for your time <3

Have a great day/night

hi! welcome back! <3 ooooo angst prompt, we love to see it. i hope this is what you wanted, thanks for submitting! :)

Come Back…Be Here

karl jacobs x reader

Gender Neutral Pronouns

TW: none really, just a breakup

requested by @azumakina

this taylor swift title thing is getting out of hand

MCYT Masterlist

This was the third time this week, and who knows what time this month, that Karl had been late. This date had been rescheduled at least 5 times, and yet Y/n’s boyfriend failed to show up every single time. Y/n was a patient person, but this was ridiculous. Finally they put Karl’s now cold food in a to-go box and left the restaurant, deciding to drop it off at his house.

Y/n was hurt, and tired of always being pushed to the side. In the beginning of their’s and Karl’s relationship, it was perfect. They loved each other unconditionally and always made time for one another. But now, a year and a half later, it was like they were complete strangers. A couple texts here, maybe a phone call or a visit. And it wasn’t for lack of trying; lots of times Y/n tried to go be with Karl or invite him out somewhere, but he always had something to do. Part of Y/n feared his career was becoming too much, but they never said anything because they trusted Karl knew what he was doing.

Now, pulling up to his house, Y/n wanted to cry. They loved Karl with all their heart, but they missed the days where they felt important and loved. Still, they wanted to stay for better or for worse, so they dried their tears and took the food inside. Most of the house was dark, so Y/n made their way back to Karl’s gaming room.

Sure enough, there he was, sat in front of the screen. He was laughing and smiling at something, and for a moment Y/n just watched him. They hadn’t seen him laugh or smile at them in so long, they liked to see it and pretend that it was because of them. Carefully they made themselves noticed to Karl.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Are you streaming?”

“No, I’m just playing with the boys.”

Y/n took a deep breath in; so it wasn’t even work that kept him this time. “Can we talk?”

Karl grimaced and looked back at the screen. “Right now? I’m kinda busy.”

“Karl Jacobs, I need to talk to you.”

Y/n’s boyfriend snapped to look over at them, his eyes wide. They had never used his full name in that tone before, so he silently nodded and said goodbye to his friends.

“What’s up?”

For a moment Y/n just took in Karl; they could see in his eyes he was distracted, that he wasn’t really thinking of them. So they took a deep breath and cut to the chase. “I brought you food. From the restaurant.”

“The restaurant? What resta- oh. That was tonight wasn’t it.” Karl’s eyebrows furrowed in thought, then his eyes opened wide as he realized what had happened. “I’m sorry babe, it totally slipped my mind, I-“

“I’m not here for your apology. I’ve ‘slipped your mind’ so many times now; Karl, it’s like I’m not even important to you!”

“I-I’ve been busy with work! My career is important you know!”

Holding back tears, Y/n crossed their arms and shook their head. Their voice cracked a little when they softly spoke again.

“When did your career become more important than your relationship?”

Karl opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He closed it again and ran a hand up his face and through his hair. For a moment the pair just stood in the tense silence, until finally Y/n stood up straight looked Karl in the eyes.

“Goodbye Karl.”

As Y/n walked out of the room and left the house, Karl felt warm, salty tears start streaming out of his eyes. Everything Y/n said was absolutely true, somewhere during the past year he had let his growing job become more important than taking care of his relationship. But as he reflected, Karl realized he never stopped loving Y/n, he just forgot to treat them right.

Karl knew he had to correct this wrong; quickly dashing up, he rushed outside to his driveway and saw that Y/n’s car was just beginning to pull out. Desperate to stop them, he ran as fast as he could and grabbed the backseat door handle to open it. Y/n came to an abrupt stop and quickly stepped out to see what Karl was doing.

“Karl, what in the ever loving muffin are you-“

“Please, Y/n, I know I don’t deserve it, but please listen. I’ve treated you horribly, like just been a total jerk and not a great boyfriend. And you have every right to be mad at me, to hate me, and to never want to see me again. But, before you go, I just want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve ignored you and pushed you aside; I love you, I’ve always loved you, I just pushed you aside and that was terrible of me. You deserve to be cherished, and loved, and respected, and I didn’t do that. And I am so so sorry.”

Neither person’s eyes were dry, and a small sob broke from Karl as he finished. Nodding slowly, he backed away, ashamed of what had happened. But just as he started to walk, a pair of arms wrapped tightly around him. From behind, Karl felt Y/n lean onto him as they held him tight.

“I love you Karl Jacobs. I forgive you.”

Karl turned around and properly returned Y/n’s hug. He kissed the top of their head over and over again, silently promising to never do anything to loose his lover again. Their relationship was so precious, and the love that they shared was so rare, they both vowed that night to keep it forever.

[machine-gun-casie]

tavern music

synopsis: corpse hears tavern music coming from your room (gn!reader)

warnings: rpf, reader gets cheated on, kind of unrequited feelings, mostly hurt/comfort and physical affection tho (what im trying to say is that this is mostly self indulgent)

wc: 1.7k

a/n: havent written in a while but i found this in my arsenal, fixed it up a bit and viola. original plans for this was definitely something longer that would end with them being together but im not up for writing rn. been feeling really shitty lately and ive been needing something like this in my life. hope u guys like it ♡

He couldn’t hear it at first. His headset was on and everyone was being so loud on the discord call. When he started the stream, he really thought it was gonna be a long one. But he’s only two hours in and he’s ready to get the hell off because something was definitely wrong.

“Corpse?” His name being spoken finally broke him out of his trance, he only hummed in response. “You’ve been really quiet. Are you sure you’re up for another game?”

“Actually,” he starts as he closes a few tabs, “I think I’ve gotta go. Today was fun, though. Thanks for having me guys.”

After a chorus of ‘goodbye’s and ‘see you later’s, Corpse disconnected from the discord call. “Thank you guys for being here,” he addressed the chat, “sorry I’m ending so early today. I promise I’ll make it up to you next time. Take care of yourselves. Later.”

After hanging up his headset and getting out of the chair he’s been sitting in for far too long, Corpse made the short trek to your room. 

You had only been roommates for less than four months, but Corpse could confidently say that you have become one of his closest friends. Getting a roommate was the last resort that he never wanted to actually resort to. But alas, medical bills were piling up and youtube and music don’t make half as much money as people think they do. So cutting rent in half was the best plan he could come up with. He did have an extra guest room that no one ever stayed in. Of course having someone move into his personal space was terrifying to him. He didn’t just want to post an ad on craigslist or something. So he asked a couple trusted friends to ask a couple trusted friends… And that’s when you came in.

You were the trusted friend of a trusted friend of a trusted friend. When you met, you didn’t make a comment about his voice. Your face sure as hell showed your surprise but you didn’t say anything. To Corpse, this meant one of two things. You either knew who he was but didn’t want to freak him out, or you didn’t know about his online persona and were just genuinely shocked by his voice. It only took a few minutes of knowing you to know that it was the latter. Thank god. You were like anyone your age with social media. You had a few accounts, followed a few people, but mostly used it to stay in contact with friends. 

It only took you guys a week to realize you had way too much in common. After many a late night when he wasn’t streaming, and many an early morning when he was just done streaming, you two became inseparable. Nothing could keep you apart.

Except for one thing.

You had a boyfriend.

There was nothing wrong with your boyfriend, per se. Just the fact that he was your boyfriend and Corpse was not. 

Yeah, Corpse definitely had feelings for you. 

But right now, feelings didn’t matter when he could hear tavern music coming from your room.

He knocked lightly and pushed the door open slowly. “y/n? Can I come in?”

No response came, just sniffles and sobs. The lack of refusal on your part gave him the courage he needed to open the door wider and step into your room. He had only been in your room a couple of times since you had moved in. But he had never been in a room that gave off the feeling of a person so well.

You were curled up on your bed, facing your open laptop screen and the tavern music coming from its speakers. With every sob shaking your chest, Corpse felt his heart break. “y/n,” he murmured softly, “what’s wrong?”

“It’s not working.” Came your reply, heavy with tears. “You said it would make you feel like you're going on an adventure but I still feel like crap.”

“What happened?” Corpse asked as he sat down on your bed, facing you. You slowly sat up and crossed your legs at your ankles in front of you.

“He-” You sighed heavily. “He cheated on me.”

“What?”

“He cheated on me -has been cheating on me- with my best friend. My little brother found out.” You groaned and dramatically dropped your head onto Corpse’s thigh. His hand immediately came in contact with your cheek as he brushed a few stray tears away.

There was rarely any physical contact between you and Corpse. Sometimes you’d give him a high five, sometimes he’d give you fist bump. And there was that one time you came up behind him at the grocery store and hugged his arm to your chest. You immediately whispered something along the lines of ‘creep won’t leave me alone’ followed by a loud ‘hey babe!’

Corpse could barely admit to himself how much he liked that.

But this? This felt good. Corpse’s large warm hand on your face somehow made you want to cry more but in a good way. The tenderness with which he held your face made your heart squeeze as it remembered moments like this with your boyf- ex boyfriend. But then it remembered your brother’s words.

“Hey, what’s up?” You spoke as you answered his call. Your brother wasn’t much of a caller, so it made you worry. 

“Hey, where are you right now?”

“I’m home, why?”

“y/n… There’s something I gotta tell you.” He sighed and you could clearly hear the guilt.

“Did you break my DS!” It was your first thought as you had given it to him the last time you had seen him. “Dude! I’ve had that since I was seven!”

“No no, I called about something else.” He cut you off mid-whine. “But also I did lose the pen.” You huffed out a sigh of frustration but stayed silent so he could tell you what he wanted to tell you. “I saw your boyfriend at the park today.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “And?” How did this warrant a phone call? 

“He was with Bob.” 

When you had met your best friend, your brother was only a toddler. He had decided that her name was Bob, so it stuck. You always called her Bob, she was saved as Bob in your phone, your whole family called her Bob. But you still didn't understand. Why was he calling you to tell you that your boyfriend and your best friend were at the park? 

“Why are you calling me about this? You know that they’re friends, right?” You let out a chuckle, albeit still pretty confused. “They’re allowed to hang out without me.” 

“They weren’t hanging out.” You could hear your brother push out a strained sigh. What wasn’t he telling you? “They were making out on the swing set. As in, both of them on one swing. And I double checked, it was definitely them. I-I told mom and she said not to tell you, but I couldn’t not tell you when I’m the one who saw it!”

You couldn’t bring yourself to say a word.

“I’m sorry, y/n.”

There was no lying to yourself, you had doubts about your best friend and your boyfriend. But you constantly brushed it off. He wouldn’t hurt you like that. Hell, she couldn’t hurt like that. Not after everything you had been through together. 

But you had seen his call log by accident one time, he called her more than he did you. She face-timed him one time to ask his opinion about a dress she was going to buy while you were in the changing room. She had done a handful of things since your relationship with your boyfriend started that made you uneasy. If this was their first kiss, which was something you doubted, then they’ve both been emotionally attached to the other for far too long.

All those tender intimate moments, all those dates, throughout everything, he wasn’t faithful. Not emotionally, at least. None of those moments that you cherished meant anything to you anymore. He had played you. With none other than your best friend since middle school. You didn’t know who to be more mad at.

The thoughts of betrayal from someone who you considered a sister and the hurt of being cheated on made you nauseated.

So when the large warm hand on your face stroked your cheek again, you didn’t mind it. This was Corpse. Not your cheating boyfriend. Not your lying best friend. Corpse. And you knew that he would never hurt you.

“He’s been cheating on me for a while I think.” You mumbled against his sweatpants. “Maybe a couple months. I don’t know.” 

Corpse furrowed his brows in thought. You had told him you were going to visit your boyfriend for your one year anniversary next week. “Weren’t you go-”

“Yeah.”

“And Bob’s been your friend since-”

“Yeah.” Your chin wobbled as you answered. You brought your arms up around Corpse’s thigh and hugged it. It was a strange position, but you didn’t care. He was so warm and nice and hugging him properly required more movement on your end than you were willing to do.

“Oh, sweetheart.” Corpse sighed and reached out to untangle your arms from his leg. He gently pulled you across the few inches of bed between you and sat you in his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, immediately sobbing into his shoulder. “Do you want me to turn off the music?” You shook your head no against him and he chuckled before he solemnly sighed. “When did you find out?” 

“When I came home.”

“But you came home hours ago. Have you been in here this whole time?” You nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were streaming, didn’t wanna interrupt.” You shrugged.

“y/n,” he sighed disappointedly, “you’re my best friend. I can end a stream if you need me.”

“Okay.” Your voice, broken and weak and tired, made him feel so guilty. You had been crying your heart out for over two hours just down the hall from where he was.

He gently grabbed you by your hips and tried to push you away, but you only held on tighter and whimpered. “I just wanna get you some water.”

“I don’t want water.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You.” You whispered. “Please stay.” 

Fuck. How could he say no to that?

So he stayed.

[a-very-tired-raven]

EEEEEEE so I've been in a writing mood as of late and I needed some help for a writing prompt. One of my best Tumblr friends(@let-love-run-red go check her out!!! She writes amazing garcello fics and headcanons and is a big inspiration for me!!)helped me out! This'll be a lil angsty sorry not sorry lol

•Nothing to lose•

(Trigger warnings!:Mentions of abuse,death,homelessness, multiple past abusive relationships,and bad cigarette habbits!)

You burst out laughing for what seemed to be the 10th time day as your buddy Garcello told yet another joke. "Seriously tho cello! That one was terrible! " He shot you a wink "heh your smiling though." You tried to wipe the smirk off your face. Unsuccessfully. "Am not" you playfully swatted his arm. He just shrugs "Whatever helps you sleep at night kid."

You roll your eyes, "Hey I'm not the one wearing a long sleeved coat and Jeans in the middle of summer" You sent a playful glare. "Your absolutely nuts!" He returns your glare. "Hey at least I'm not the one who's only clothes are T-shirts,shorts and Hoodies! All you ever wear are T-shirts and shorts. Your the crazy one. I don't see how you don't ever get cold"

You smile softy as you see the way he talks with his hands moving everywhere while he rants. I mean.. you do too its just nice to see someone else not pick on you for that. Its... nice to have someone who doesn't judge you for who you are whatsoever. It's been hard,taking care of three siblings all by yourself. Most would shy aways and call you crazy weird,disgusting,freak you've heard it all. Garcello...

Garcello was different.

"Y/n?"

You snap your head up effectively cutting off your somewhat depressing thoughts. "Hm?" You look over. "Are you alright? Ya kinda zoned out on me. I mean I know I can be boring at times but I didn't know I was a snooze fest" Besides his joking banter he has a face full of worry, Beautiful golden eyes scanning your face as if searching for the answer to a murder mystery.

"Nahh your not that boring. Promise. And..yeah I'm fine. Just kinda spaced out y'know?" He nods his head in agreement. You both slow to a stop. He chuckles a bit and turns to you. "Yeah yeah I know, it's just... I recognize that look, Y/N. Believe me I do.. im sorry to be a buzz kill but.. you know you can talk to me. About anything right?" You give that soft and kind smile that melts his heart every rare occasion he gets to see it. You never smile enough..

Sure there's the joking but... genuine smiles,ones that don't cover a dark and rough interior. He knows first hand what that feels like. So.. he tries. He's tries all he can to get you to smile that genuine smile as often as can be. For both your sakes.

"I know garcy. And thank you. Glad to know it still stands." You give him a quick hug that immediately makes his cheeks warm. He's really thankful for the shade his cap gives his face right about now. "I'll see you later alright? And tell Annie I said hey!" "Alrighty will do! And get some rest tonight okay? Cya." You nod a okay and walk inside your apartment.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------You stare holes into the ceiling. Past memories flash through your mind. Your mother, and father. You were disgusted to call them that. Helping and raising your siblings. Her...death.. being homeless..heh something both you and garcello share in common. Picking up your smoking habbit.. heh another thing. Meeting him.. These past few months.

Its been hard...but its been good. You have a roof over your head. Your four siblings are okay. You haven't seen your older brother in a while but he gave you a call. You have food, water,and.. Garcello and Annie. A smile works its was on your face.

I'm glad I met him' a soft smile works its way onto your face until you realize you thought just garcello and not both him and his sister. YES you love them both- like a family-its not like that- ugh why does thoughts have to be complicated!! You roll over,you have to get to sleep. Garcello told you to! And he said he wanted to meet up for something again. You slowly drift off.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Garcello was antsy the whole walk to the park;the place you two agreed to meet. His face was a mad red. He had your favorite flowers and your favorite candy! Reeces pieces and snickers. He's never done anything like this before. Confessing he means. Sure he's asked a few chick's out but... Nobody important or someone he cares about, nobody like you. You changed his entire life in just the few months he's knew you.. He hopes you'll say yes. then again.. his hopes are all the way up.. who'd wanna date guy like him?

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

You look up from your phone to see garcello approaching you. He's very...stressed? No... anxious? Yes Anxious for lack of a better work. With his hands behind his back...Hmmm....

"Hey cello, whatcha got there? You got murder on your mind?" You give a teasing smirk. He just immediately freezes. "I-um-uhm. No. I uh got ya somethin' if that's alright?" He very stiffly sits in front of you. He's sweating bullets. Geeze what's got him this worked up.. "Dang cello with how your acting Ida thought you were askin' me out" you give a light chuckle. He freezes completely.

"Heh uh yeah heh...um..here..you go.. I bought these. For you.. Noone else. Heh" He awkwardly places a two boxes of your favorite candy and holds out a large boutique of your favorite flowers. You freeze completely, mouth hanging open in shock."Y/N...I've liked you for a while now.. your so nice and thoughtful...and you understand me. I was maybe hoping you'd go on a date? With me?" His face is cherry red.

What. He can't be serious? Really he can't. Nobody would ever like you that. Yes you love him.. but you can't afford to love him. Caring gets you hurt. And being vulnerable gets you killed mentally as well as physically You've long sense learned this from your past three relationships

"Are you serious?..Garcello... I cant.. I can't accept this.."

Your heart sinks as you watch the hope glittering off his eyes dim

"Of course I am! Y/N I love you..." Your both standing up at this point. Your both shaking.

"And garcello... I know-i know but please-i just cant!"

"At least tell me why? Am I not enough? I thought... maybe you'd understand.." He drops the boutique. He..he knew it..your too good for him...He really does disappoint everyone..

"Garcello I just cant!can't"! You don't notice the tears spilling down your face at this point.

"But why! I love you! I really do! You mean so much to me!" You take a step back.

"Just stop! don't do that to me Garcello! Dont give me hope! Never ever give me something I want, something I want as bad as you!"

"Why" he's pleading with you so hard..please...just tell him..

"BECAUSE THEN I HAVE SOMETHING TO LOSE!" You hadn't ment to scream. Your fists are clenched and eyes shut tight, you feel as if you might collapse at any moment. Garcello's stunned into silence. "And then I'll be open to get hurt... and I just.." You let out a broken sob. "I'm just so tired of being hurt" you don't move as he engulfs you into a hug.

"And as much as I love you too.. I can't risk being vulnerable again... raising 3 siblings and protecting them so at least they can have a good childhood while you haven't even had on yourself..." You don't notice tears of his own dropping on your shirt. "Being backstabbed and left broken with Noone to fix you...I just can't do it again..." He let's out a broken whisper. "I know Y/N.. I know more than you ever will."

Your just left there hugging in silence. You've decided. You can talk it out because as you were too blind by fear. Fear of being hurt again... he's just like you,two broken puzzle pieces that fit together.

Hope yall like it! Promt idea goes to @let-love-run-red ! Go follow and check her out!

I accept any and all constructive criticism!,

[cradlingsongs]

anna for the ask game!! @gabriziodeandre and @likesomethingblooming asked for her 🥺 thank u so much!!! hehehe im super flattered. The actual answer for the ask game is below:

Full Name: Anna Barkley

Gender and Sexuality: Cis Woman/Lesbian

Pronouns: She/Her

Ethnicity/Species: White American

Birthplace and Birthdate: god i dont know LOL ummmm maybe 1st November somewhere in the state of California (subject to change) between 1800~early 1900s??

Guilty Pleasures:

making up fake scenarios in her head ab getting back w her ex. Stop treating her like she’s some woman obsessed w her ex from a hundred years ago! She’s not!!! (She is)

indulging in pictures of wangsty pinterest poetries. If words get out to her camarilla toreador siblings she’d be so fucking toast god help her

Phobias: not really a phobia but she hates dirt and unclean and disorderly things in general

What They Would Be Famous For: If she was still a mortal i can kinda see her being famous for being a ruthless woman politician 🤷‍♀️ like. In a bad way. Otherwiseeee i feel like she would be kinda well known for being extremely petty and inconvenient to people she doesnt like LOL

What They Would Get Arrested For: Public aggression. Anna has a bad temper

OC You Ship Them With: @/dykeferatu’s dani… anna is a total bitch to him now but they were very 🥺 together……… i want that for them again……………. Anna doesnt deserve it tho……… but still……… 👉👈

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: none of them would hate her enough to want to murder her 💀

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: ROMANCEEEE i feel like she would have so much sappy romance books (novels and poetries) in private. But publicly (and mostly) she really likes those specific type of books about the art of gaslighting and manipulating others idkkk u get what i mean. She is very fascinated in gaining power. For selfish means but also because to her it’s a delicate art form as well

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: she would have so many. But i feel like she would hate the miscommunication cliches the most

Talents and/or Powers:

VTM disciplines: animalism (she has a snake ghoul), celerity (she has super reflexes and can move very fast), and presence (supernatural charm)

she’s supposedly pretty good at putting words together? She writes a lot in her spare time but it’s like 1-2 sentences of her thoughts per writing pieces… once every blue moon she’d write a full poetry but yeah.

Why Someone Might Love Them:

anna is actually pretty good with children and younger people?? as in she often takes people seriously no matter her first impression of them. she snaps very easily but if she knows the other person isn’t so experienced/knowledgeable she can be pretty chill and patient about it 🤷‍♀️

also she takes people she likes really seriously in general? idk like her object of affection could be like im feeling tired today and anna would go full are u ok? do you need anything? i’ll fetch u sth to get cozy with so take it easy and just rest ok?

she is very protective and attentive to people she likes…. it might also feel really nice to be treated like that by her bc she hates a lot of people lol

Why Someone Might Hate Them: lol where do i even start

once she decides she hates someone she hates them. She’ll go out of her way to inconvenient them as much as possible

oh yeah she’s incredibly petty too. U slip up and offend her once (and if she doesn’t feel any affection towards you) she will bring that thing up constantly to remind u of ur fault(s) LOLL

she doesn’t like small talk and will readily cut people off to get to the point. Probably could come off as standoff ish and rude to others

Vvvvveeery argumentative….

She has a short temper… it’s very easy to offend and/or accidentally insult her

Will do almost anything to get what she wants… she’s not a good person 🤷‍♀️ will readily use anything to blackmail and manipulate the shit out of people that she wants to step over…

How They Change: WELL i did write out a redemption arc for her!! It includes her bad personality and short temper finally biting her in the ass and her losing everything she worked the past hundred years for!!!!!!! It was fun

Why You Love Them: she’s my pathetic little meow meow and also she’s very cringe but in a sad way like she’s pretty lame and she doesn’t think she’s cool either but she’s trying so hard to be cool bc no one’s gonna take her seriously if she’s not. Anyway i love her sm. Pathetic little meow meow

[i-like-writing-stuff]

four months; part 2 [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: thank you all so so much for your support and feedback! i literally could not believe that the first part has over 200 notes and yall want a continuation like omagash??? im soft, thank you guys <3

here is the long awaited part two, but before we dive into that, i felt the need to ask yall if you want five to be aged up?? in most x reader i’ve read on this site, five is aged up, but I felt like, in my case, i didn’t really needed to mention that because i am only like two months older than the actor, and its not like im gonna write smut with him- gross. point is, idk. should i age him up tho??? idk what to do, so here are both aidan and timothee to soothe ur heart for this second part!! <3

(the gifs do not belong to me, lemme know if u know who made them so i can give credits- they’re real cute mah gawsh!!!)

alsoo if you want more five imagines or literally any other hargreeves sibling or fictional character ousside tua, feel free to leave a request in my inbox! kisses <3

summary: after a long family meeting and more booze, you decide to make a bold move and profess your buried feelings.

part 1

“Men are stupid shitheads.” You concluded, setting your flask on the counter, looking at the new bangs Allison had just cut for you.

Even in her drunken state, they seemed to be very nicely done. You were quite surprised by the way they turned out, but pleased nonetheless. It was a spontaneous decision, getting bangs. You had been sitting in the hair salon she was working at with her, Klaus and Vanya after a not so great family meeting.

Hugs were shared, true, but then arguments started and before you even knew it, Luther stormed out, Diego followed him, Five went missing for whatever business he had, and Klaus claimed that Ben was not even there- apparently, ghosts can’t time travel.

So, it was just the four of you, drunk in a hair salon, with too much alcohol and way too many scissors around you, complaining about how shitty your love lives could be.

“Amen.” Klaus raised his drink in the air, “I’ll drink to that.”

“Right?” Allison nodded, combing her second client, Klaus, “The nerve of Ray! I mean, one thing goes wrong and he’s on a warpath!” She vented, holding the bottle of liquor in her free hand, “I mean, doesn’t know who I am?! No, no! No, Ray- you know exactly who I am, you just can’t handle it!”

You watched with a raised brow as Vanya was out of zone, pretending to be shooting the long line of empty bottles gathered in front of her, as Allison kept on continuing her rant. Her husband had just seen her use her powers on the night they started the protest, and was now having a real hard time comprehending what was going on. You didn’t see him at home either, so you figured he may have been upset with you as well for maybe hiding the secret. Or maybe he thought you were like her, who knows?

“Hey, wouldn’t it be weird if Five grew up all hot?” Klaus suddenly asked, taking a drag out of his cigarette, as he got up from his seat to walk around the hair salon, “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

“Why would you even think of your brother like that?” You asked riddled, narrowing your eyes at the man as his sisters almost gagged at the thought.

“Oh, please, you’ve been thinking that, haven’t you?” Klaus asked, pointing at you as you took another swig from your nearly empty flask.

“I... I mean- he’s... Five... uh... no comment!” You suddenly declared, at loss of words, as you got up from your seat, trying to maintain your balance as you made your way towards the bottle of liquor to fill your flask again.

“When are you two gonna confess your feelings?” Allison asked with a groan, letting her head fall backwards as she sat on the chair, “It’s getting really tiring!”

“We have an apocalypse going on!” You argued, “There’s no time for feelings!”

“This is the perfect time for feelings!” Klaus chimed in, taking another drag out of his cigarette, “These might be your last six days on Earth! Do you want to die regretting that you never told Five how you felt about him?”

“I’m not having this conversation anymore.” You declared, out of arguments, as you poured liquor in your flask, “Why don’t we talk about Allison’s crush on Luther instead?”

“We have never even kissed!” Allison defended herself, causing Vanya to spin on her chair confused, looking between the three of you.

“Yeah, but you guys were making little sick moon-dog eyes at each other all through puberty and breakfasts and... all that.” Klaus waved her off, sipping from his own flask.

“Aren’t we all brothers and sisters, or...?” Vanya wondered confused, as you and Klaus snorted amused at her innocence.

“Well... technically...” Allison tried to find an excuse or explanation, but she was having a hard time putting her thoughts in place.

“Technically?” Klaus raised a brow, “If you....” He stammered, trying to regain his train of thought, “If you have to use the word technically, you’re already in trouble.”

“Okay, can we go back to Five and Y/N?” Allison tried to change the subject, “Or maybe at least help me save my marriage?”

“That’s like...” Klaus stumbled on his own feet, filling his flask again, as you leaned against Vanya’s chair curiously, “That’s like asking a nun how to hump someone’s leg! I mean, who in this room knows shit about relationships? This one?” He asked, pointing at Vanya, “In secret love with some farm Frau!”

“Her name’s Sissy.” Vanya informed him.

“Which is an improvement on her previous love interest.” He said, looking at you and Allison, as you shook your heads to slightly tell him to shut up, “...the serial killer.”

“What?!” Vanya yelled, looking between you and Allison for an explanation, but you just softly waved her off, promising to remind her later.

“And look at this one!” Klaus ignored the three of you, pointing at... well, you, “A fifty year old assassin, who got the chance to be a teen again, but she is too afraid to admit her feelings for the... wait, is Five a boy or a man?”

“Both?” You raised a brow, unsure of the answer.

“Meanwhile, I’m carrying a torch for a soldier I haven’t technically met yet, and Luther is in love with his sister.” Klaus waved you off, trying to keep his balance again on his feet.

“Okay, again- we are not biological!” Allison tried to defend herself once more, but Klaus simply ignored her.

“Face it, the healthiest long-term relationship in this family was when Five was banging that mannequin.” He said, making all of you nod in agreement, as you couldn’t help but confess, taking another chug out of your flask;

“I can’t believe I got to the point where I was jealous of Dolores.”

Okay, maybe ‘banging’ and ‘jealous’ were strong words, but you had to admit you were not that pleased when one of the first things that Five did when he got back to 2019, was go to some store to get back his plastic girlfriend who kept him company in the four decades he spent all by himself in the apocalypse.

You understood his mind, though. You would have gone insane as well if you had to be all alone after the end of the world, without another soul on the planet. Nonetheless, you still were maybe a tad too happy when he decided to return her to the store.

Leaving you the only woman he had eyes for, unbeknownst to you.

“I’m gonna tell Sissy that I love her.” Vanya suddenly declared, straightening her position confidently.

“You go, girl!” You cheered, clapping for your friend.

“I don’t want any secrets.” She said, making you and the other two nod in agreement, contemplating about your own lives.

“Yeah!” Allison said, getting up with the bottle of alcohol tightly clutched in her hand, “Yeah, yeah- you’re right! Yes, ‘cause, you know- if this all goes tits-up, the least I can do is be honest with my husband!

“Oh, does that mean I have to face my cult?” Klaus sighed, “I just hate group break-ups, it’s why I stopped dating twins!”

You pondered about it for a moment, in your state that was definitely not the most sober. You had a lot of alcohol coursing through your veins, but you felt like maybe it was better. You could think with your heart more than you could think with your brain, and your heart was telling you that your friends were right.

They all are getting themselves ready to take big risks in their lives, why shouldn’t you? They had a valid point; the world was gonna end in six days if you guys couldn’t find a way to solve this. Last time you didn’t have the brightest plan, so why should this time be a success? Reality hit you; there was a real big chance that you might die.

So why not just be honest with Five? What was the worst that could happen? You manage to save the world and Five rejects you? Big deal!

Well, it actually was a big deal.

“What if he rejects me?” You asked all of a sudden, causing the three siblings to turn to you, “What if I tell Five how I feel about him and he rejects me? I know maybe at my age I shouldn’t be this anxious about a man, but... it’s not like I’m going anywhere, I’m glued to the Hargreeves clan.”

And it was true. After the events of the 2019 apocalypse, right before you and the others got separated, you shared an adorable moment in which you confessed to each other how happy you were to have met and be taken into their family as one of their own.

“Normally, I’d say to not ponder on that for too... long.” Klaus slurred, “But given that it’s Five, you don’t even have to worry about that.”

“He’s right.” Allison shrugged, “That won’t be a problem.

“I have no memory of any of you, but from the hug I’ve seen you two share earlier- you’re not just friends.” Vanya spoke up, making you stare into nothingness for a moment.

I mean, it’s Five we are talking about. If he were to have any feelings, it’s not like he’d be honest with them or act, right? It would be up to you to make the first move.

You let out a long sigh, rubbing your hands on your upper arms, reminding yourself of the hug. It may have been the first time you and Five actually hugged, in all the years you’ve known each other. The way he held you close and nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, feeling you in his arms, even if for him it had been only four days. You had to live with the thought that he may be dead for months.

And you hated that, you knew you wanted him alongside you. You wanted that little rude, at times obnoxious dipshit, with a soft heart- as much as he hated to admit it. You loved how much he cared about his family, about saving the world. Five is a great person; he is caring and has a big heart, as much as he tried to hide it behind his trashmouth.

“Fine!” You groaned, letting your head fall backwards, “I’ll tell Five I fucking love him and his dipshit face!”

“Yes!” Klaus clapped, as Allison and Vanya cheered proudly, “Come here!”

You and Vanya walked towards him, as Allison wrapped an arm around his waist, waiting for the two of you to skip towards them, pulling you into a group hug, as “Twistin’ the night away” by Sam Cooke blasted on the radio, causing the four of you to start a small dance party, letting for the first time in a long while your problems just go away.

For the sake of the song.

After a couple more hours of drinking, gossiping and dancing, the four of you decided to finally part ways and attend your promised business. Klaus went to deal with his cult, as Allison decided to be completely honest with her husband at home and Vanya was going to confess to Sissy.

As for you?

You were going to tell Five Hargreeves you were in love with him.

“Hey, dipshit!” You confidently yelled, running up the stairs of the store, trying to find Five.

“Y/N?” Five frowned, walking out of the kitchen with a coffee mug in his hands and a confused look on his face, “Are you... even more drunk? And did you get bangs- what the...?”

“Shut up.” You waved him off, walking towards him to grab the mug out of his hand to sober yourself up, “Why in the hell are you even drinking coffee at this hour?”

“I’m... trying to calm myself...” He frowned, watching as you chugged his freshly poured coffee.

“Normally I’d ask.” You said, setting the mug on the counter, shaking your head, “But right now what I have to say is more important.”

“Is that so?” Five raised a brow curiously, as you slowly slapped your cheeks, trying to get the room to stop moving, “Why don’t you go to bed?” He asked, gently pushing you towards the couch, “And we talk in the morning? I don’t really have time for this.”

“No!” You yelled, stopping in your tracks to poke his chest, “We don’t have to talk! I talk and you- you listen!” You said, poking his chest again, “You never have time for anything, all you can think of is your stupid apocalypse!”

“Oh yes, isn’t that a trivial thing to be thinking of?” He asked with a sarcastic smile, crossing his arms.

“I don’t need your sarcasm!” You yelled, poking his chest a third time, feeling him get more tense.

“I swear to God, Y/N, if you do that one more time-...” Five took in a deep breath, as he could feel as he was slowly losing his patience.

“Shut up!” You groaned, watching as his brows knitted in confusion, “I’m trying to confess my feelings for you, you moron!”

“W...What?” He asked, as his face suddenly softened, unfolding his arms.

“I’m in love with you!” You sighed, rubbing your face, “Okay? I-I am in love with you and I am trying to sober myself up, but I think I may have had too much to drink.”

“You think?” Five scoffed, slowly leading you towards the couch, “Are you sure you’re not saying this just because you have a ton of alcohol coursing through you?”

“Well... kinda, ‘cause if I were sober there was no way in hell I would have confessed.” You puffed, complying, as you let yourself guided by him, “Allison, Klaus and Vanya all convinced me that I should tell you, that we only have six days left on Earth and in case we don’t save it... I shouldn’t be going down with regrets.”

Five listened to your every word carefully, as you continuing venting about how his siblings spent the whole day trying to convince you to tell him about your feelings, as he slowly held your hands, as you took a seat on the couch. He nodded at your words to let you know that he was listening, as he took two pillows off the armchairs beside, placing them at one end, softly pushing you down.

“...and then Klaus said that he hates group breakups.” You said, not even noticing what was going on, feeling your lids get heavier once your head met the pillow.

“Not a surprise there...” Five muttered, grabbing the blanket that was rested on top of the couch, placing it over you.

“Are you trying to dismiss me?” You wondered, but still making yourself more comfortable, as you sat on your side, with your head facing Five, who knelt in front of you tired.

He bit back a smile, watching as you slowly closed your eyes. He knew you were extremely drunk, he could see that in the way exhaust took over you. Not only you had a lot of alcohol in your system, but you’ve also had some long couple of days, and some longer ones were ahead of you until you knew for a fact the world was safe once more.

“I don’t know how it is, that you’re the one person who actually makes me feel... soft.” He confessed, watching your lips curve into a smile at his words, “You... drunken idiot.”

“I regret nothing.” You said proudly, as Five couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, softly stroking your hair to help you fall asleep sooner.

“We’ll see about that in the morning.” He smirked amused, watching as you pouted.

“You never gave me an answer, you know.” You pointed out, letting his soft touch calm you down, as you felt sleep slowly take over you.

“You never gave me a question.” He retorted, knowing for sure that if your eyes were opened, you would roll them at him.

“I think you like to hear me say that I am in love with you, it’s the third time I have to say it.” You said, slowly placing your hands under your pillow, making yourself more comfortable.

“I am happy to see that you still know how to count.” Five said, placing some wild strands of hair behind your ear.

“Screw you.” You said, making him grin, as he went back to stroking your hair.

“In this whole... shitty situation I managed to get myself into, you, Y/N, might as well be the only thing keeping me sane... surprisingly.” Five frowned at the last bit, watching as you opened your eyes, shifting your head to watch him, “I love you too, moron.”

“I never said I love you.” You smirked, teasing him as he rolled his eyes.

“You little chipmunk...” Five sighed, shaking his head in disbelief amused, as you leaned into his touch more, closing your eyes, pleased with yourself.

“Yeah, but you still love me.” You said, not once dropping that smirk on your lips.

“You’re impossible, did you know that?” He wondered, resting his forearm on the couch beside you, as he knelt on the floor, trying to make himself more comfortable, noticing the way you were enjoying the scalp massage... for free.

“A little bit.” You slowly shrugged, wrapping your arms around his, once you felt it beside you.

Five watched with a soft smile as you pulled his arms closer to your face, nuzzling into it with a satisfied smile, happy that you listened to your friends.

And deep down, so was Five thanking his siblings.

[fleabaqs]

TIPS FOR WRITING LATINOS FOR DUMMIES! 

because y’all can’t seem to get anything right.

under the cut you will find a lot of useful (maybe) information when writing latino characters. please consider leaving a like/reblog if you find this useful.

                                                      FIRST OF:

yes, karen, we will call you gringo. that’s not on the table, that’s not a discussion. all latinos use the word gringo, and if you say it’s a racist slur ONE MORE TIME, i swear you will regret it, filha da puta.

                                                                   SECOND:

NOT ALL LATINOS SPEAK SPANISH!! i know, crazy, right??? brazilians speaks PORTUGUESE, yes PORTUGUESE!!! bitch

yes, portuguese and spanish are really similar, but don’t write the “even though i speak only spanish/portuguese i can understand spanish/portuguese” depending on the country/state you’re born, you CAN’T. so just avoid that. 

if you’re character/fc was born in united states, they probably won’t be considered latino in latin america. PERIOD. that’s not up for discussion either. 

if your character/fc was born in latin america, he ISN’T going to be considered a person of colour if they have white skin. take for example the family from one day at a time. in usa they can be talking about racism and everything, but in latin america you only suffer racism if you have clearly black/asian descent. plus: if you’re white and you decided to shit rules into racism in latin america (at least in brazil) you’ll probably get beaten up. not a joke. and as a white latina, i support that.

WHY are you all so lazy? If you wanna write ANY character, from ANY country that is not yours = YOU SEARCH INFO ABOUT THAT COUNTRY!! i swear your hand is not going to fall of! im taking as example my country, if you wanna write a brazilian, search about the states! a cearense and a gaúcho are TOTALLY different!!! a carioca and paulista are totally different even tho rio de janeiro and são paulo are so close. DECIDE the country, the area, the state and city of your character!

moving on from geography: other types of stereotypes!! NOT ALL LATINA MOMS ARE CRAZY AND CONSERVATIVES! some are pretty chill! really… there are moms who won’t go crazy about anything. so don’t be afraid to write a mom that is okay with their child going out at night, being LGBT or being pro choice. okay???

okay, but why aren’t you using the word “latine”? most latino community are against this word. shocking, right? everyone has their reasons why they don’t like it, my case is because my family is really poor/my grandparents didn’t go to school and everything and as much as they would respect and understand non binary people, they would not be able to use it. not even my mom, who is a teacher, is able to use it. she respects their existence, but they gotta respect other people existence too. my family is one of the lucky ones, there are people in worse conditions. when using the word latine, UNDERSTAND the background of the character! 

ASIANS LATINOS EXISTS!! my god, this is a hard one. i never see asian latino representation in unitedstaten midia. like, what’s that about? they don’t have to choose between their ethnicities!! now shut up, karen

we DON’T call unitedstatens americans, or united states america! i don’t know what happened in their education system, but they really gotta understand america is a fucking continent with more than 30 countries. you’re not special, desgraçados parasitas do caralho

if i see one more latino drug dealer and latina sex symbol, IM GONNA KILL A GRINGO!! that’s not all we are!

we will get offended if you say we are from a country we are not, after we already said our country. i know it’s hard for you to memorize more than five countries, but i gonna be cheering for you!

most latinos hate, or at least dislike, our colonizers. in brazil, we make jokes about portuguese people all the time and we will ask for the gold they stole from us at any given opportunity. so when writing a latino character, know who colonized their country.

latinos are clean. i know this may sound a little off for non latinos, but our sense of personal hygiene is really important. again, this variates from country to country, but in brazil we are thought that we should brush our teeths after every meal (at least 4 times a day), and that we should shower EVERY day. no, no, don’t come with that unitedstaten shit about showering only when you exercise, or that during summer going to the pool is showering BECAUSE IT’S NOT, THAT’S FUCKING DISGUSTING HIJA DE PUTA. if your character has access to clear water and personal hygiene products, he will do this kind of things.

just... read abou that country you wanna write. here goes some ideias: *country* traditional food, *country* sports, *country* music (in this one, learn how to say the language of the country in the language of the country. example: don’t search “portuguese songs”, search instead for músicas brasilieiras. don’t search for “mexican songs” search for canciones mexicanas.), *country* books/writers, *language of the country* basic phrases! ]

latin america is part of three americas! america is devided in three. north america = mexico, and the other two; central america = cuba, costa rica, etc; south america = brazil, chile, etc. DON’T go to my ask to say “oH mExIcO iS nOt NoRtH aMeRiCa” because i swear i’ll track you down and shove a atlas down your throat!

latin america is not just tropical vibes, dumb bitch!! we have snow too! this is fucking brazil.  and this is argENTINA! 

just remember these facts when writing brazilians: brazil is the second country with the biggest japanese community, second country out of germany with more germans, and get this!! brazil has more lebaneses than lebanon.

latino accent when is speaking english is not just lydia from odaat. it changes. 

english is second or third or fourth (and so it goes) language for latinos. keep in mind that mistakes are made. and most latinos (myself included) love their accent!! we want you to listen to our voice and ask where we’re from, and that gets to: 

WE ARE COCKY! yes, we are very cocky about our culture, get over it! 

most latinos cried/got really happy when parasite won the oscar. now you ask me, why are you writing this on a guide on how to write fucking latinos??? well, my dudes, latinos are tired of imperialism. just that. don’t write a character that worships usa culture (can we call hamburguers and coke culture, my ladies? I DONT THINK SO), even if they moved to usa. “it’s also important to remember that the american dream is sold to all of us, since forever.”

i guess this is it??? just, talk to a latino and ask “is this correct?” when in doubt. we are indeed very energetic and we talk loud and a lot, but we don’t bite. writing us is difficult, you’ll probably get something wrong. but if we see that you did basic research, we will get really happy about it. bye, gringos!

edit 001: this link and this link are great! use them.

edit 002: any fc can be latino! ANY FC CAN BE LATINO! fun fact: the brazilian passport is one of the most expensive ones, because anyone can pass as brazilian. anyone can be latino! wong yukhei? big brazilian energy! madison beer? can be latina. ester expósito? latina. kim taeyeon? I HEAR THE LATINA DRUMS!! idk, kj apa? can be latino too! 

not all latinos are good dancers and not all latin dances are salsa. check “#latinodancecheck” on tiktok, if you have one. 

there are differences between spanish speaking surnames and brazilian ones. first of: the number of surnames changes with the country. second: spanish speaking countries surnames end in “ez”, while brazilian surnames end in “es”. examples: rodriguez, rodrigues; lópez, lopes; hernandez, fernandes; martinez, martins. but sometimes, we exchange surnames. you can find a brazilian with the surname “gonzalez” instead of gonçalves, if their family comes from a spanish speaking country.

this ask sent by the lovely anon! 

this other ask sent another sweet anon!

this.

[uhhhhyandere]

i would do anything for just a short one shot of orphic light x reader cuddling . its valentines day and im down bad

me too lol i hate V-day.... but chocolate is on sale tomorrow.......

this one’s for you bby and everyone else who is feeling it today. im right here with y’all <3 

idk what it is tho hahahahaahh 

You didn’t think about it.

Okay, okay, that was a lie. You did. Fuck, you did, but what were you supposed to do? Pretend you didn’t? Pass by other regular, healthy couples and pretend to not wish with every fiber of your being that you were them? It was tiring, so tiring to put on a face and act, to shove your emotions down down until they're squashed out of existence.

Or, at the very least, pretending they're out of existence. 

But god, you had to give yourself this one. You didn’t have the power to pretend or act or ignore or do anything right now. Even if you wanted to, Light had everything down to a science from the twitch of your fingers to the drag of each syllable out of your mouth whether it was a microsecond too long or one pitch too high to be normal. Up until now, you’ve every valentine’s day deep in daydreams and fantasies full of flowers, dates, and just... happiness, however that looked like to you with whoever was home to you. 

Light was definitely not what you were expecting to be your first - and most likely last one way or another - relationship, but you just wanted something normal. Something that can just give you a taste of real, tangible escapism. To feel warm and happy and cozy and appreciated and loved. For fuck’s sake, you just wanted to feel as loved as every other goddamned couple you see holding hands or - fuck - even laughing and smiling like normal people in a normal world. 

That’s all. 

But, no, no you couldn’t even have that. You spent ten whole minutes pacing outside Light’s office to gain the confidence to walk in and ask if you can do something, anything. All that amounted to was him grimacing and telling you to leave him “the hell alone right now,” and it hurt. Of course, it did. You finally take a risk and ask for something you want and not live every second of your life wondering what’s going to make him happy, and it gets shut down so easily. You’re not sure what would happen if you ever did that. 

So, in your prepubescent turmoil, you left. You escaped the stiff air of the house and his presence, and deeply inhaled the brisk February air. It was cold, sure, but not nearly as ruthless as the winter air could be. It was actually relatively nice out. Thank fuck. You only grabbed your lighter coat in your absconding and settled for the first place of peace you can find in the city: a small park with a cobblestone path cutting through it. 

The cruel, black metal of the bunch bit your ass and chilled your skin, but now you could hardly feel it. You could hardly care. What were you going to do? Get up. Sure, and go where? Wander aimlessly and just pass more restaurants brimming with everything you ever wanted? No thanks. The volume of people walking past you here was far fewer. Plus, if you leaned back to let the cold touch your thighs and stare at the cloudy sky, you didn’t have to see any of them. 

You’re not sure the wetness on your cheeks began as soft drifts of white landed there or as tears crept from the corner of your eyes. You’re also not sure how long you sat there. Your legs have long since fallen asleep, succumbing to countless pins and needless. Snow was accumulating all around you, on you, even as a terrible, freezing, wet blanket you slightly shifted to knock off every so often. 

It really must have been a pathetic sight to see. You shut your eyes and felt each flake land on you, hoping, eventually, they would bury you. 

But they stopped. 

You opened one eye to see the disturbance. Black completely overtook the sky. Ah, no, not the sky. An umbrella was tipped to cover your body entirely. Your eyes trailed down the thin metal supports to his face. Not unimpressive, not frustrated, not angry, just... there. Light looked down at you like he would look down at the sidewalk while walking any other day. A pale face sticking out of a black turtleneck under a brown coat he bought to replace the white one that was just getting too old and worn out for him. 

You look away. Using the back of your finger you wipe away a tear - definitely a tear and not snow - before settling both frozen hands in your pockets. Your eyes meet for a few more seconds before he steps to the side and takes a set next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his thigh next to yours. Light held the umbrella in the small gap between you. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask finally, breaking the minutes-long silence. “Thought you were busy.” 

“Finished,” he replied. “Then I had to come play hide-and-seek with you when you ran out like a petulant child who didn’t get the toy they wanted at recess.” You want to shoot up straight and bitch at him, to say that it’s his fault, that everything is his fault, and to tell him that this is the least of the reactions you could offer in response to it all. 

“Then leave,” you said. “I’ll come back. You know that. Just... just for today let me be... happy. Please.” Your voice cracks and you have to look away once more to wipe away more stray tears. “I just wanted something... normal.” 

“Normal was out of the question from the start. In fact, don’t pretend that it was ever in the question. We’re meant for more than... normal.” 

You shake your head. “Not today, Light, fuck. You’re such a fucking genius, but god, you could never read a room, could you?” Light clenched his teeth but ultimately stayed silent. At least, for the minute he spent contemplating whether to tell you to ‘come off it,’ or to play into it for the longer-term benefit of your temporary satisfaction. You beat him to the punch. “It’s Valentine’s Day.”

“Funny enough, I knew that.” 

“Well, I couldn't tell.” 

“You don’t seem the type for flowers and poems, Y/N.” 

“Well, you don’t seem the type to-to... you know, and that’s-god-that’s not it, and I feel so stupid, in the scheme of things, to have this bother me, but fuck, Light. I’m a human. I’m complex and shit, and I can’t do what you do. At least, not consciously.

“This is... this fucked up, sure, but it’s the first real... something I ever had with someone else. Middle school, high school, even most of college was just me existing alone. It seemed like... it seemed like every single other person just got a handbook on how to socialize, how to develop relationships, how to love and be loved that I never got. That everyone else was able to be loved, but never me. Never me. I was never picked or chosen, or, even if I was, something better would come along and I’m left in the fucking dust. It’s me, you know? Never... never enough. For once - just for once - I can feel like I’m enough. That I’m not deciding every second if I’m breathing too loud or not being useful or whatever.” 

By the time you’re done, you feel far too comfortable in the silence that follows. You’re not horrified of what he’s going to do in response. You settled back down and shut your eyes. “That’s all,” you add pointlessly, “and, I’m not sure if you can tell, I really, really hate this holiday.” 

Light stood up. You watch him, like before, with one eye. The umbrella rests on his shoulder at an angle, and with his free hand, he extended his palm out to you. You furrowed your brows and quadruple your number of chins to look down at it. Light rolled his eyes. 

“You could stay here if you want.” You kind of wanted to. Spending a few more hours alone was tempting, but... but that’s what you always were, have been. You had one chance - one person - left to change that. 

His hand was warm over your own. It kept you centered and balanced as he led you down the snow-covered streets. Though it’s nothing like the pure joy emanating from others, it was something. It could probably be compared to two business partners walking stiffly while holding hands if you’re being honest.  

But for this, you can act for. 

You played pretend the rest of the way home until you convinced yourself you were in a good mood. You refused his offer of food when you return home. Instead, you nestled under a large white blanket and clicked on whatever was on: some cliche romance fic Light would never, on any other day, stand for. You could heat Light shifting around in the kitchen behind you. He emerged with two mugs with steam rising in small swirls above them. Light placed them on the table and you watched him motion for you to raise the blanket. 

Light slipped in beside you, and you wondered how painful it was for him to wrap his arm around your shoulder. It’s stiff, uncomfortable, and a bit cold, but not surprising. You shut your eyes and imagine... you try to imagine someone else, but there’s no one else you could picture besides Light. Anyone else felt... wrong, so you opted to watch the snowfall through the windows. Turning your body towards him more, you snuggle into him and rest your head on his shoulder. 

His hand rose between you. You figured it’s him adjusting himself or the blanket, but you’re surprised when his fingers lightly grab your chin and lift your head. There’s no time to react before his lips land on yours. 

Oh yes, you can act today. For today, you can pretend. You could let your heart be filled and convinced you are loved, because tomorrow, tomorrow was never guaranteed. 

[sprouter]

Hello ☺, i saw your post earlier about the match up and i was wondering can i get a male bnha match up and maybe some mini scenario/headcanon to go with it (if you don't mind) please?

My pronouns are she/her and im demiace as well. For my appearance i look like 5'0 chubby girl, with black medium length hair (i think like shoulder length), brown eye and medium/medium tan skin tone.

I'm infp girl with 4w5. For my personality i like to think im a chill girl (kinda sarcastic sometimes) and like to go with the flow. My friends said that im a cheerful and talkative girl, kinda bit like a sunshine, with a lil hint of a brat lmao. Im a lil bit impulsive and like to do anything i want as long i could do it (and get away with it) and i also have tendency to procrastinate. Im also an emotional person but im not the type easily let people know most of my emotions and feelings, i find it hard to actually befriending someone like genuinely letting them know my thoughts and accept them into my inner circle.

For my hobbies it's usually just reading fictional books, listening music, and of course eat. Tho sometimes if im in the mood i like to cook (more like burning my food 😔), swimming, and window shopping. I also like to chat with my friends about dumb stuff lmao

Also if this any help my love language are physical touch (tho i dont like it when someone initiate it when they're not my close friends and i like hugging people while standing lmao pda who), quality times and giving gifts. I just like being adored and taken care of lmao 😔

I think that's all, sorry if this too much and all over the space, thank you 🥺❤️

Kirishima!!

:: Thank you so so much for requesting, and I hope that you like this matchup <333 But I pair you with Kirishima!!

# You two are constantly getting in trouble for talking and cracking jokes in class. To the point where Mr. Aizawa had to spilt you two up.

# But y’all still found ways to talk to each other so he just gave up. Plus Kirishima focuses better around you in a weird way. Motivation maybe?

# You have yet to plan anything. Since Kirishima is so used to Bakugou planning every little thing being with you is a very nice change where he can relax and not have to stick to a schedule. He’s fully planning on just relaxing and basking in the presence of you.

# Kiri can handle your brat no problem. In fact he may find it a little funny and try to annoy you or some shit when you do act bratty. But he knows when to stop. He also knows how to make you stop because what kind of boyfriend would he be if he didn’t.

# He’s actually a really good person to help you with your procrastination because of Bakugou. So let’s say you need to turn in an assignment at 4:00. He’s reminding you at 2:30 | 2:50 | 3:10 | 3:25 and you get the picture. And if you start cutting it too close he’ll help you with some of it or talk the teachers into giving you more time.

# He’s like your emotional support blanket. He knows when you need a day to yourself so he’ll make sure him or anyone else doesn’t bother you. Can handle any mood swings you throw at him. And will reassure you countless times of his love for you and won’t get tired doing so. And no matter how hard you try to hind he’ll catch on pretty soon. But doesn’t bring it up, just kinda helps you quietly.

# Kirishima definitely made the first move. Doesn’t mind how shy or introverted you are, and he won’t pressure you into being more extroverted. Didn’t care how long it took him to be included in your inner circle. He was in it for the long game and didn’t mind waiting at all if it was for you.

# You two are always sharing an earbud. You two have plenty of separate playlist for each other as well as joint ones. He also loves stealing your food more specifically any meat you have on your plate. So be prepared to have your food taken or at least fight for it.

# He’s a decent cook. Not terrible but not great either, so he’s just kinda there because you’re there and he wants to be around you. But will do whatever you want him to do to help out.

# lots of physical touch and gift giving. You two are always touching in some way. Also loves giving you painted rocks or non painted crystals.

It was 4 pm, and Kirishima decided that he want to go hiking with you. So here y’all were. Not even 2 miles now stuck on what to do next since there a path block. “Dammit maybe we should’ve planned this out.” He said a little annoyed. “More than likely but there’s nothing we can do. Might as well head back now.” Kirishima started nodding with you in a agreement. “See this is why I love you. Well one of the reasons why, you’re so go with the flow.”

[theunconcernedembalmer]

Toko! I was thinking of creating an ask the character blog for IDV or Genshin Impact and wanted a few tips on how to start off. Anything you can share?

ey yo my dude!! thank you so much for this question, now im lowkey tempted (again) to make a genshin ask blog sjadhlkshgkahshglsaj anyway my 1.5 cents is under the cut, yall know how much i talk here HAHAHAHAH

uhhhhhh so i guess we start with picking a character u really Vibe with tm? I KNOW THIS SOUNDS LIKE COMMON SENSE BUT LIKE ive been considering making a genshin ask blog for a while now but i never really got to it cos i couldnt really decide on a character (plus the fact that their outfits are. so intricate. is also a hmm since i try to follow details to a t) (at first i wanted to do zhongli, but i feel like to be able to muse him well u need to know the lore super super well, which i dont n im too lazy to research on that aha. n u know how much i respect characterizations, especially for such a complex character like him. i also considered xiangling for a period of time mostly for guoba but also like i have 2+1 blogs here n having one more might not be a very good idea aha) (as for aesop he was my Hyperfixation Character tm also cos i looked at his kit n went Yep i could work with this. probably)

so assuming ur not a dumbass like me n u kinda know who u wanna pick, id actually say to snoop around here for other ask blogs n kinda get a feel of the... scene? is that the word? or like u know, other blogs that u can potentially vibe with. ive run a couple of ask blogs before this current one (both that have died for different reasons) n from my experience interacting with other blogs (if theyre okay with it, i think most should be) is pretty fun. it also kinda helps get ur blog around to other ppl on other blogs so they can go Oh whats this cool shit n check u out, n its also a reason why we kinda reblog promo posts for other blogs (also cos we’re always excited when someone new comes on, its really the more the merrier. we see all :eyes:). interacting with other blogs is also an option when ur inbox is looking real roomy too

another reason why i havent exactly done a genshin blog is that idk i cant actually seem to find genshin ask blogs around (i have seen rp blogs, or those that answer asks with mostly text instead of art, but thats. not my thing since i hate my own writing aha) (i did find one aether blog some time ago, but for some reason i hardly see them around anymore??? idk man i might be wrong). its not like im trying super hard to find them ask blogs, so im sure they exist out there (hopefully?? im not sure but im being optimistic). i mean theres nothing wrong with just starting an ask blog without others around, but for me i do find a difference when i interact with other ask blogs n when i dont, n i prefer when theres others to have fun with (unfortunately i couldnt find any ask blogs to interact with in my previous fandom. i tried, but the blogs i approached seemed to go inactive shortly afterwards...) plus u get to meet friends that way too :D (i made a lot of friends via idv askblogs n its really been a joy vibing with others)

as for the idv scene. gestures around me. unfortunately there are a lot of ask blogs that arent that active anymore, but theres still some of us who are alive n kicking empty inboxes, n im sure everyone would love to see a new face around. winks at u. also there seems to be a lot more blogs popping up lately, which is really heartening to see.

then u kinda just. make ur blog? n a starting introduction post so ppl can reblog it n spread the word XD n yay u have a blog i guess??? XD

i gotta say tho. dont expect ur blog to take off immediately (especially for smaller fandoms like idv, tvbh i didnt think my blog would even get half this far when i started cos of how non existent idv tumblr seemed to be) n ur inbox will probably be looking pretty empty a lot of the time (or at least filled with some that u havent quite thought of how to reply to yet aha) (but also like empty inboxes happen pretty often, im sure most of us here have experienced this problem)

in the case of the first ask blog i ever started, it never really took off at all. ngl it was kind of demoralizing n depressing but to be fair i had picked one of the more obscure characters in the series, so obscure that many ppl in the fandom would have never heard of this character before. if u wanted to know, i took a character that only appeared in the 2nd musical of the series, who also made a very brief cameo in the manga to acknowledge his existence within that universe. thats how obscure my character was, but i went with him purely because he was my favourite character. i will say though i did enjoy it while it lasted n i learnt a lot from the experience, n i think thats whats important really.

i guess this kinda leads on (not really but let me digress) to the whole uhhhh thing where if u choose a more popular character, u get more attention. which is fine i guess? if u really vibe with the character, i mean theyre popular for a reason. n choosing a more popular fandom (like genshin) would objectively also get u more viewers n numbers. but like honestly i believe that ask blogs are meant for u to have fun with, n like trying to get popular gets tiring pretty fast (this shouldnt be like a main goal, but u know sometimes u subconsciously also want that gucci follower count n bomb ass notes or something. i used to be guilty of this until i realized it isnt worth it) especially if ur not enjoying yourself in the process. (case in point: my previous fandom was considerably larger n my blog got about 700 followers within a year or so, but it got very tiring n stressful to maintain after my interest in it died, n no one was really interacting with the blog even though i tried which kinda made it even more depressing despite the so called success n popularity of the blog)

anyway on a less serious note, theres a lot of fun stuff u can do with the ask blog, like some ask blogs have really fancy tags that i really like n try to do but also like not really HAHAHAHA. i kinda just channel what i want to see in an ask blog into my own ask blogs (good art is one, i try very hard for it to be good :,DD another is characterization, n others is just extra miscellaneous arts n stuffs like au ideas or memes. these are also somethings u could work on during ask box downtimes perhaps)

uhhh another side thing is like a posting schedule i guess? like ppl would be more likely to interact (i think) if ur blog is relatively active, n this is usually determined by the last post u made (i think XD). but like generally for blog maintenence id say try to kinda find a frequency that ur comfortable with?? cos i know my once a day posting is kinda insane if i wasnt so hyperfixated on all of this n fight the urge to dump all ur replies when u finish them XD (though ive seen some blogs do that n they do it pretty frequently so its pretty nice to know once u see their post u can spend some time going through the latest batch of posts XD) the queue function is pretty useful here even though i truthfully have never really used it, i kinda just post from my drafts really but it also helps to space out ur content to seem somewhat active especially when u dont have the time to be working on replies sometimes. i hope u know what im trying to say here aha

ANYWAY that was like my 1.5 cents cos i dont even think its worth 2 cents HAHAHAHAH these are just my thoughts from running all my blogs up till now, some that are still running n the others that have just died a natural death. i wouldnt actually delete them (theyre still around actually XD) cos theyre kinda like archives n i can look back at what i did last time. cos ngl i made some high quality stuff back then, n i dont even know how i managed to do that aldhflhdsgk. also ppl do look at archive blogs every now n then for the content thats there yknow

BUT YES anyway if u do decide to join the idv ask blogs hmu, ill be sure to give u a lil shoutout here. winks

[5sos-seavey]

“PHASES” INSPIRED JJ FIC

it’s finally here after so long !! really hope you like it girl

- 

Phases - JJ Maybank

Warning(s): some swearing

Word Count: 2416 (without the lyrics)

Tags: @snarkystarkey, @maybe-maybanks, @baby-bearie, @mayibeyoursbanks, @katie-avery, @kaceyjost

A/N: I decided to not switch through points of view but just kept writing while the povs kinda sorta change, hopefully it makes sense as you read but it might be more of JJ’s pov since the song is from the guy’s pov ALSO if you’ve seen the music video for phases I guess it’s kinda gonna be like that lol

I know you’re tryna do you, but I heard you fell off.

After a couple bad nights, and 20 cold hearts.

Tryna find a new you, but I heard you got lost.

Tryna figure your worth.

What the hell does that cost?

You and JJ had been together for a little over a year when you told him that you thought you needed some space and wanted to figure out who you were and what you wanted. At first JJ was confused, he thought you loved each other and wanted each other. “Please don’t be upset with me,” you had said to him. “Y/N I just want you to explain it to me.” “JJ, we’re so young, and I’m not saying I don’t love you, because I do, I love you so much, but I have no idea who I am. I don’t want it to be 3 years down the road and we decide that we don’t want to be together. I know that we’re young, but I honestly think that we’re it for each other. I just don’t want us to end up as that, right person, wrong time, couple.” JJ was nodding along as you had spoke, “okay. I get that. Just, please don’t like, I don’t know, forget me, I guess? Because I love you and I want to be with you.”

When I’m kissing ya, grippin’ ya thigh.

I realized you were destined and meant to be mine.

But who am I to conflict with ya livin’ your life?

Just know when you call, I’m at the end of the line.

JJ knew you were the one. He just wanted to be with you. But he didn’t want to get in the way of you finding yourself, because he didn’t want you to be the, right person, wrong time. He thought of you as the, right person all the time, no matter what. He also would never want you to feel pressure to stay with him because he wanted you to. He also didn’t know what kind of space you wanted so he would sometimes text you, reply to your story, whatever. It broke you, but sometimes you just didn’t answer him. You knew this was hard for him, but it was hard for you too.

JJ: just checking in, how are ya?

y/n: im good jj, thanks.

y/n: i know it’s been a couple weeks and we’re both kinda struggling with this but idk if we should be texting and shit while we’re figuring how exactly to navigate this. and it also won’t help in any kind of growth. im sorry jj

JJ was beside himself. He wanted to be there for you, but this was the one time you didn’t want that. He still thought it was important for you to know that he’s here for you.

JJ: i get that. don’t be a total stranger tho. if you ever need me or anything, i’ll be here

JJ never got a response to that message. But he knew, or at least hoped, you’d come to him if you ever needed.

I’ll practice my patience, while you’re getting wasted.

Till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases.

You’ll shuffle through faces, like songs in your playlist.

Till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

It had been about two months since you asked for space and JJ was doing as well as he could be. He spent a lot of time at John B.’s to try and distract himself with John B., Ki and Pope. Even Sarah came sometimes. Sarah was surprisingly helpful actually, while his other three friends tried to steer clear of anything to do with you, Sarah wasn’t worried about bringing you up, “well she did say that she wanted to be with you right? Don’t look at it as a breakup because it’s not. And even if it does become one, which I highly doubt, it isn’t one yet.” JJ was shaking his head, “she’s seeing other people, she doesn’t ever talk to me and I know that I don’t talk to her either, but she asked for that. I don’t know Sarah, it’s hard not to treat it like a breakup.”

Ki started to agree with Sarah, “but JJ, she said she loves you; she just needs to know who she is. You don’t want her to resent you down the road.” JJ looked at Ki in shock, she never wants to talk about Y/N, she was always worried about upsetting JJ. He couldn’t argue with them, what they said made sense, and plus, you had been talking to those two more than you had been talking to him. And that was saying a lot because you only talked to the girls maybe once or twice a week, and you always tried to avoid talk of JJ because you didn’t want to be worried about how he may be feeling; he had said that he supported you in wanting to do this, so you were just going to stick to that.

It definitely did not help JJ’s worrying knowing that you’d go out and you’d be seeing other people, going on dates, doing whatever else you were going to do while you two weren’t together. He’d just have to wait on you, he wanted you to be as sure as he was.

Hittin’ all the right cues and you’re leaving your mark.

But I know that ain’t you, you’re just playing your part.

Tryna fit in them shoes, but you take it too far.

It doesn’t matter where it takes you, I’ll go wherever you are.

It had been four months now. You can’t lie, you missed JJ, but you can’t find yourself in four months just to go right back where you were before. Obviously not saying that going back to JJ would be bad, but it still seemed to early to go back to him now.

You’ve gone a quite a bit of dates, in the beginning, they were all one offs though. Two months ago you had met someone, things were going pretty well actually. You had gone on a few dates together, but you personally thought things had been moving too fast. When you brought it up though, it did not go well. You were told that you were “self sabotaging because you don’t want to be happy.” It goes without saying that you two were no longer see each other. Maybe you were self sabotaging, you definitely weren’t doing it on purpose though. You just always had a lot on your mind.

Since then, you’ve been going out a lot again, and surprisingly Sarah was joining you quite a bit lately. You had felt bad almost completely cutting off your friends just because they were also JJ’s friends. You just didn’t want it to seem like you wanted them to pick sides because ultimately, there were no sides. Right now Sarah was over at your place and you were waiting on the food the two of you had ordered before going out for the night, “so what’s the plan, Y/N?” “Guess we’ll just go to one of the bars or clubs downtown. Can you wing-woman me,” you asked her, lightly laughing. Sarah started slightly laughing along with you, “sure. But uh, and don’t take this the wrong way but, what if we just went out to have a good time tonight? If you meet someone, you meet someone. Don’t try to force finding someone.” You looked at Sarah thoughtfully, maybe she was right. The last few times you’d gone out, and with Sarah, she helped you find someone, and you’d gone on a few dates. Maybe tonight could just be more of a chill night out, “you know what, yeah, you’re right. Do you wanna call Kiara and see if she wants to join too?” Sarah was silent for a second while she stared blankly, “um, I actually don’t know if she’s free. I think she had plans tonight, uh, with the boys.” “Oh okay that’s fine, just me and you then,” you smiled at her. Sure you hadn’t seen Kiara in a while, maybe it was mostly on you, but sometimes it sucked, guess that’s what happens when you want a break from one of your friend’s best friend.

When I’m kissing ya, grippin’ ya thigh.

I realized you were destined and meant to be mine.

But who am I to conflict with ya livin’ your life?

Just know when you call, I’m at the end of the line.

I’ll practice my patience, while you’re getting wasted.

Till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases.

You’ll shuffle through faces, like songs in your playlist.

Till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

For you, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait through your phases.

JJ could admit that these past few months had been hard, but what he hated to admit even more was that it was also getting easier. You never texted him and even Sarah wouldn’t talk as much about you to JJ either. She felt bad because she had started hanging out with you more and more and she didn’t really want it to seem like she was rubbing it in JJ’s face in any way. JJ did appreciate that Sarah was doing that for him, and he also appreciated that you had Sarah, he figured it must’ve been hard for you not being able to talk to any of your friends, but it is what you decided.

JJ didn’t really go out much, he didn’t enjoy it as much as he used to when he would go with you. John B. did make him go out a couple times, especially recently since Sarah was going out with you. Nothing ever happened when he went out, he mostly would just sit at their table and had a couple drinks. JJ was waiting on you.

I’m really tired of being soft spoken.

You got me broke, writing songs about you daily and it’s messing with my focus.

You fuck with him, but we both realized that he was bogus.

I’m the one for you, so why do I feel like I go unnoticed.

I’m talking more than clothes hittin’ floors.

I’m falling off track, but not the rack, like a chore.

Oh, look, another butterfly, I feel it in my core.

Even though you ain’t mine, it’s the fact that I’m yours.

It’s the fact that my life ain’t complete without yours.

It’s the fact that at night I be tryna ignore.

Catching overseas flights just to knock on your door, cause you put my planet in orbit.

Stargirl, your body’s so solar.

Promise you, baby, I’m sober.

Just wait till you give in and finally come over.

I can’t wait to tell you, “I told ya, I told ya, I told ya.”

It’s been about half a year without any contact from you, and JJ is going crazy. Not only that, but now he’s more stressed and worried than he was in the first two months. He didn’t think it’d be like this for this long. He thought maybe you could’ve even been friendly with each other but if you weren’t going to message him, he didn’t want to feel like he was overstepping and intruding on your space.

JJ was also frustrated though because he really, really, really thought you’d at least even tell him that you didn’t want to be together by now. But maybe if you hadn’t it was a good sign, right? He needed to know something though, even if it wasn’t him directly that was finding out.

JJ: Sarah, can I ask you for a favour?

Sarah: shoot

JJ: could you see where Y/N’s head is at rn? I’m kinda freaking out

Sarah: actually I can do you one better

JJ: ??

Sarah: she’s still figuring things out BUT she’s not confused about things as much and she thinks she knows what she wants

Sarah: before you ask tho, she didn’t tell me where she stands or what she’s doing. she probably figured you’d ask or I’d tell you, which I wish I could do

Sarah: I know you’re stressing, but hopefully it won’t be for much longer bc she’ll tell you something soon one way or another

Sarah: but I hope it’s in the way that you’re both happy and together :)

JJ: thanks Sarah, I really appreciate it

JJ: keep me updated if she tells you anything or you hear anything

Sarah: of course, same goes for you

Wow, at the beginning of all this, JJ definitely did not think Sarah would be like his saving grace through it all. She’s honestly been the most helpful and straightforward, making sure JJ was feeling all his feelings and not hiding from any of his friends. She wanted him to know that she was there for him, and so were the boys and Kiara.

I’ll practice my patience, while you’re getting wasted.

Till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases.

You’ll shuffle through faces, like songs in your playlist.

Till fate brings you home, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

For you, I’ll wait through your phases, phases.

I’ll wait, I’ll wait, I’ll wait through your phases.

So much time has passed, and you knew now for sure, that you were ready to be with JJ. But since so much time had passed, with no contact at all, you weren’t sure how he still felt. What you did know was that you had to tell him everything you felt before because even though you knew you wanted to be with him, he needed to know that he wanted to be with you. There was not one bone in JJ’s body that didn’t want to be with you, but you didn’t know that.

Y/N: Sarah, do you know where JJ is?

Y/N: PLEASE DON’T TELL HIM IM LOOKING FOR HIM!!!!

Sarah: I won’t dw

Sarah: and he’s at John B.’s, we all are

Y/N: okay please all stay there

You were on your way to John B.’s and to say you were nervous was an understatement. You hadn’t seen any of them, other than Sarah, for half of a year. You just hope none of them changed their opinion of you and hated you now.

Y/N: I’m here, do you think you could try to get JJ to come out without telling him it’s me

You waited a minute until Sarah responded.

Sarah: he’s coming!!!

You waited on John B.’s front lawn and then JJ opened the door. You didn’t know what Sarah said to him to get him to come out, but he started looking around until he saw you, which caused him to do a double take. “Y/N? Wha-what are you doing here?” JJ started to come over to where you were standing. “I uh, I uh, wanted to see you. I-is that okay,” you were a lot more nervous than you thought you were going to be. “Yeah of course. Is um, something wrong?” “I guess that depends.” “Depends on what? You’re kinda worrying me.” “I have something to say to you. And I need to say it all before uh, any kind of decision is made.” “Oh um okay. Go ahead.” You took a deep breath and started.

“When I told you that I wanted to just take a break for a while, I said it was for me and to figure out who I was, which is partly true. I ended up realizing though, that wasn’t the only reason,” JJ tilted his head in confusion at you while you continued, “I realized that it was for you too. And yes, I know that it wasn’t your idea and you still supported me and the decision, but it was for you. It was for you through me. I wanted to make sure you were happy, I didn’t want you to regret being with me,” JJ opened his mouth to say something, but you stopped him, “I just wanna finish,” which he nodded at. “I didn’t want to end up being a burden on you and then have you resenting me in the future for who I was. And I know it sounds ridiculous, these scenarios that haven’t happened about problems you’ve never even voiced. But I guess I not only wanted to grow for me, but I wanted to grow for you, because I love you. I love you so much JJ Maybank.”

JJ had the biggest smile on his face as he pulled you into hug and then put his hands on either side of your face softly and kissed you. You swear you’d never been happier. JJ pulled away, both of you with the same goofy smiles. “I love you Y/N, so much. I’m just glad that we’re together again.” “Me too.” Then before JJ could kiss you again, you heard banging on the windows and when you and JJ looked, John B., Pope, Kiara and Sarah had all been watching through the window the whole time. You and JJ laughed while the four of them just cheered. “Let’s give em a show then,” and JJ pulled you into another kiss.

[if-the-crown-fits-translate-it]

Discord pt 84

[Date: 16/03, 8:40 PM GMT - 16/03, 9:06 PM GMT]

CONTENT WARNING: Mild body horror

[Direct continuation of pt 83]

kateza: “only thing i can think of is getting like

plant cutters?”

donti (e): “we can somehow simulate the exact opposite of what syd went through...?”

[kateza: “only thing i can think of is getting like]

donti (e): “potentially attached to brain”

[kateza: “plant cutters?”]

Renboo: “oh so weed killer is a no but plant cutters? yeah sure do that- /sarc”

[Little-K1ng: “alright how about damage mitigation? jack, you knew syd. you knew her through the..... uh... "process". do you have anything to share?”]

Jack the Observer: “Just. She had a headache. Bedridden. The warden said it was like red strings tying down her mind.”

kateza affectionate: “... right, right. sorry.

ignore me.,”

llyr: “you’re alright kate, it was worth suggesting. we’re just brainstorming for now”

Jack the Observer: “You could try wire cutters, actually. That’s not. A horrible idea.

I don’t know if it’s good.

But not like. That bad.”

Renboo: “how durible is gold anyway-”

[Jack the Observer: “Just. She had a headache. Bedridden. The warden said it was like red strings tying down her mind.”]

Little-K1ng: “speaking of bedridden i need to sit down or something, marcus, can you bring me 2 pills from the bottle on my desk ?”

donti (e): “good is an incredibly soft metal

and is usually impure to prevent bending”

kateza: “but with how fast it seemed syd's grew...

i don't know sorry sorry”

Little-K1ng: “i mean, syd had direct contact with crown outside of being a court member, right?

these boys kinda dont have that”

[kateza: “but with how fast it seemed syd's grew...]

Jack the Observer: “It was four days of headache at least before the trial

She was really ill”

donti (e): “... so we potentially have two days left?

dreaming: “we should try. cutting them off or something? it might delay it”

Void: “is it possible that crown needs to be around for it to grow and that's at least part of why you found him around your house?”

kateza: “might hurt him”

donti (e): “it might hurt max tho”

dreaming: “we could try and if it hurts we stop”

Maxwell: “please no”

[Void: “is it possible that crown needs to be around for it to grow and that's at least part of why you found him around your house?”]

donti (e): “point”

Jack the Observer: “Can he feel through the buds? Or would it be more like cutting hair/nails”

dreaming: “okay”

Little-K1ng: “oh yeah those footprints and handprint..... i heard about those

i still need to check those out now that its daylight, but i cant really do it like this”

donti (e): “can marcus do it?”

llyr: “it’ll likely just grow back, though. in order to get rid of weeds, you have to pull it out by the root, which in this situation might not be possible”

[Maxwell: “please no”]

Little-K1ng: “max, come sit on the couch with me ?”

[dreaming: “we should try. cutting them off or something? it might delay it”]

Renboo: “wasn't there a very brief mention of it hurting whenever someone so as touched whatever the thing is? just imagine how painful using wire or plant cutters would be- and with the possblility of it growing back too i dont think theres anyway to cut it without hurting max a lot”

[Little-K1ng: “speaking of bedridden i need to sit down or something, marcus, can you bring me 2 pills from the bottle on my desk ?”]

Marcus: “Of course! Sorry I was lost in thought”

[Little-K1ng: “max, come sit on the couch with me ?”]

Maxwell: “okay okay--”

kateza: “i don't think i can help with anything else here so i think i'm going to... go. /ic”

llyr: “ok, bye kate. i hope you have a good day :3″

kateza: “... i'll try. i just don't want to piss anyone else off”

dreaming: “okay that's logical won't do that then”

Little-K1ng: “dont worry, kate. we're not mad

at least im not, and you can keep that in mind”

kateza: “fetch was, marcus wasn't happy that i just said what was going on”

Little-K1ng: “in a way it works out”

kateza: “i just don't want it to happen again, y'know?”

Marcus: “I’m not mad

I just...

Max is under a lot of stress”

kateza: “i also remember when you smacked me down as Viscount so seeing it happen again kind of... i dunno”

Marcus: “All of whatever just happened wasn’t helping”

[kateza: “i also remember when you smacked me down as Viscount so seeing it happen again kind of... i dunno”]

Marcus: “I did what”

Jack the Observer: “Understandably so. This is a stressful situation.”

Renboo: “viscount what-”

donti (e): “it's definitely going to hurt him if unaddressed though”

kateza: “verbally smacked me down

not physically

although i was kind of being a little shit but it was because i just did not know what else to do”

Marcus: “I don’t... i did that?”

kateza: “frankly i kinda deserved it and anyone that saw it could probably corroborate that I deserved it”

[kateza: “verbally smacked me down]

Renboo: “okok i thought viscount like smacked the shit out of you or something-”

Maxwell: “You know....this...almost reminds me of when i was a kid, or well i guess younger....whenever I was sick or scared I would curl up on the couch with someone, even when I was anxious I would still do it.....I haven't done it in so long....”

Marcus: “Let me get you some blankets, Max. Ultimate comfort pile”

Jack the Observer: “Calm yourself”

Marcus: “Man, it would be really cool to just be able to create blankets when we need them”

Maxwell: “how....are we gonna get rid of em”

Renboo: “completely off topic but do you think we could all like group up or something and like- storm crown's mansion? like even if we only had a group of like 20 there's only abt 5 of them so they'd all have to fight 4 of us each like do you think that'd have any effect on anything like if we kidnapped crown or something do you think that we coud get him to tell us something”

Jack the Observer: “No

Barrier blocks.”

donti (e): “bad idea... remember the last time someone suggested it?”

Renboo: “no”

donti (e): “so many reasons no”

Jack the Observer: “so many reasons no.”

donti (e): “many many reasons”

Marcus: “...it wouldn’t be the best idea

I don’t know if you’ve noticed”

donti (e): “we don't even know the full extent of his power”

Grimm: “You would regret that immediately for multiple reasons”

Marcus: “But Crown has more powers than Ranboo does”

Renboo: “i completely forgot crown and ranboo have the same body nvm”

Maxwell: “fuck my heads hurting again”

kateza: “marcus i dunno if you wanted to see it but it was back when I honestly didn't know what else to do and viscount decided he'd had enough of me”

donti (e): “MAX u ok”

Marcus: “Okay turning the lights off”

[kateza: “marcus i dunno if you wanted to see it but it was back when I honestly didn't know what else to do and viscount decided he'd had enough of me”]

Marcus: “I don’t...I don’t remember”

Maxwell: “im fine just....hurts again is all”

kateza: “i won't send the link unless you give me explicit permission to, alright?”

Marcus: “What if I massage your head but steer clear of the buds? Do you think that might help? It’s kind of like growing pains right?”

[kateza: “i won't send the link unless you give me explicit permission to, alright?”]

Marcus: “I...don’t know if I want to”

kateza: “that's perfectly fine! your comfort is valued and I'll do my best to make sure that it stays that way”

Maxwell: “you could try if you wanted, i hope its just after pain and nothing new growing in...”

Marcus: “I don’t think they’d grow that fast, im sure it’ll be alright. We’ll figure this out

Okay, just let me know if it hurts too bad alright?”

Maxwell: “okay....

im....kind of tired...can i have a nap.....?”

Marcus: “Max, of course

You don’t need to ask to nap”

Maxwell: “just....wanted to be sure....thank you...”

Marcus: “Of course! Monas already asleep I’m sure she won’t mind if you use her as a pillow”

[dear--charlie]

Dear Charlie,

it’s been so long since the last time I wrote to you, and I hate myself whenever I try to write these thoughts out, I suddenly can’t think of anything. A LOOOOT OF THINGS RLLY HAPPENED 🥺🥺. Let me think first where will I start.

Anyway, I hope that no one knows that I do this plz. So I made up with 🦁 last January it took us one month long and we really missed each other so much, u know we really tried but then our friends is rlly diff from each other, now we don’t talk anymore. It is sad and whenver I think about it I miss her but like she doesn’t even love me ahahhshs. Last February, ate 🌳 decided to cut off some people around her, and it was april when she decided for me to be part of the people wants to cut off to. I tried my best reaching out to her but it was so one-sided I feel like she doesn’t love me anymore so why would I even try so now we arent friends anymore. Cutting her off in my life resulted to knowing more friends on stan twt but you know the attachment that I had with 🦁 and 🌳 is incomparable to anyone, they are a bitch but I love them. I hope u wont judge me for that. It was more than a year since I didnt serve in our church and u know bad thoughts are now less unlike before. It was good for me to say that I dont feel much depressed anymore unlike before. Either I knew how to adapt in this depressing environment or I really got better. I was doing good lately not until I started to overthink again unlike before ppl would assure me things, now they dont do that anymore bec they are all bz bz. I became really close to 🐨 and I think everyone knows how much I love my ate 🥲 we fight a lot lately even abt the smallest things, I was so used to people adjusting for me but she taught me to adjust too i admit things r really hard. Now I’m starting to feel like she doesn’t love me anymore and Im afraid to ask her if she loves me even tho I always do that HAHSHJWJSHWHS what if she said no or like she will tell me im annoying again ☹️☹️. People told me before that I was never annoying to them and they would always tell me they have time for me and even tell me that they are busy and i shld wait. I really don’t know what happened but this makes me feel like crying a looooooooot. I was so hurt but couldn’t even tell anyone because I was petty. I am so petty iwjfiwjciejd. Charlie I hate myself so much I always bring a lot of troubles and toxicity to people, I hope I wake up tomorrow not being an annoyance to them or smtg owjdiwijd. I should stop forcing myself to them right. I shld also stop overthinking isjxijdieifiie but can they at least tell me they want to cut me off or smtg Im so tired overthinking. My bestfriend thinks all abt herself not even asking me if im doing okay hurts me more hahahahhahahahhahahahahhahahahhahaa charlie :(((((( what shld I do

love always,

Hazel Grace