#i hear miami's beautiful this time of year....

[onewingedsparrow]

Vitamin 'Cee 🏝️

[ghettogirly]

how do you think armando would react if He is too much in love with the reader, but she is younger than him (I mean Armando is obviously twenty-eight but the reader is still in his 20s) I would appreciate it very much, I love you 💗🌷✨

I don't know how many times I've ordered, but here I am again 🛐🙃♥️

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𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍:

𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐆𝐀𝐏!

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑!𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

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-> synopsis: how would armando be when loving a girl who’s 10 years younger than him? armando is 32 and the reader is 22.

-> theme: age gap, comedy, suggestive.

-> format: headcanon/drabble.

-> warnings: mention of age gap relationships, mature language.

-> authors note: i’m going to be putting updates out slower since I’m not that well guys. nevertheless i hope you enjoyed! I love your requests!! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! 🌸

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[🌸] 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆:

-> older!armando would literally first meet you when he picked his son, Alejandro, up from class.

-> it would be the first time meeting you as you’re a new teacher in the school.

-> so when he came to pick up his son, it’s safe to say you was utterly shocked at the resemblance and at the way they both acted.

-> Armando displayed the same cheekiness Alejandro did, smiling at you as his son was going on about his day.

-> “Parece que realmente disfruta de tus clases.”

-> “he’s a lot like you.”

-> “they say that, gotta come see from the source though, eh?”

-> oh.

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[🌸] 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍:

-> you found out that Armando is divorced ,

honestly you was kind of happy.

-> it may be inappropriate to admire your own student’s father but what can you do if he’s the most attractive man you’ve saw in your life.

-> he noticed your staring but didn’t mind, he thought you was the most beautiful woman to exist too.

-> so he took his chances and asked you out.

-> to which you accepted.

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐀 𝐁𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀.

-> he took you to an 90s themed restaurant where old school rnb was playing, wanting you to hear the music that was around when he was younger.

-> getting to know each other, you found out that he was a business owner. Having multiple offices around Miami helping those to build their perfect house.

-> “all those beautiful houses you see in Miami, i’ve built most of them.”

-> “i never would’ve imagined that’s the work you do.”

-> seeing him laugh and smile literally made your heart warm. “what can i say? i like getting my hands a bit dirty.”

-> you nearly choked on your drink. Armando was definitely enjoying seeing you flustered, making these tiny comments from even the moment he met you.

-> ordering food, you both ate and enjoyed each others presence.

-> “¿Te importa que sea mayor que tú?”

-> your eyes widened at the question. Putting your utensils down, you looked up at him to which he waiting for your answer.

-> “You would be the oldest man i’ve ever spoken to romantically but i don’t object to the idea of it.”

-> He smiled at that. “Good.”

-> after the date, he drove you back home as it was a little bit after 9pm. You thanked him and then kissed his cheek as a thank you.

-> wanting more, he lightly turned your face to his and gave you a peck on your lips. Making you blush at his bold advance.

-> “Hopefully i’ll see you again soon.”

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[🌸] 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄:

-> it’s been a couple months into yours and Armando’s relationship.

-> Honestly one of the healthiest relationships you’ve been in.

-> he always picks you up from work, not wanting you to walk back anymore, especially after a long day.

-> you always stay over at his on the weekend, relaxing with him and Alejandro by watching some movies or even going out to the park.

-> The age gap between you and Armando can be visible at some points, especially when it comes to social media.

“Nena, ¿sabes qué es tiktok?”

-> You nearly laughed at him even mentioning it. “What do you know about tiktok?”

“My employees told me to download it but i just don’t get the app.”

“Stick to facebook babe.”

-> even with things like his email, you noticed that he was using @yahoo.com

“Who uses yahoo email?!”

“Me.”

-> nevertheless, you wouldn’t trade the relationship for anything else, inheriting both a family and a man who loves you for you. Bombarding you with compliments everyday.

-> “You look absolutely stunning today babe.”

“New hair?”

“Looks great on you.”

-> Life was great, even with a man who’s 10 years older than you.

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[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒: 

“Parece que realmente disfruta de tus clases.”: he seems to really enjoy your classes.

“ ¿Te importa si soy mayor que tú?”: Do you mind if i’m older than you?

“Nena, ¿sabes qué es tiktok?”: Baby, what is tiktok?

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[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @dyttomori @tyneshaaa @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @sarcasticbitchsblog @armandosbabymama @thedarkworldofhananerea @amplifiedmoan @deadpool15 @wizewhispers @5tarlan7

[pickingupmymercedes]

Thank you, for everything (it takes a village) - Lewis Hamilton ft. Ayrton Senna

Little something for the 30th Anniversary of Senna's legacy

pairing: Senna! Reader X Lewis Hamilton

warnings: mentions of death, mourning, 30th anniversary of Senna's legacy

wordcount: +4k

song: In your arms - Birdy

a/n: People in Brasil don't say is the anniversary of his death but rather of his legacy, and it's such a beautiful way to see it. I hope Ayrton knows, wherever he is, how loved he still is.

a/n.2: Ayrton was known as Beco/Becão by his family and friends

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi! (Also, my written portuguese is a bit rusty, so if there's anything weird, please let me know)

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When hope went away I still held on, to the love that you gave, it’s all I’ve got of you now. I will never know you, don’t get to understand, no answers to questions. It’s too late for that. But I was in your arms, once

A pre-dawn Miami humidity clung to y/n like a second skin, even inside the automatically cooled hotel room. The city slept, but the salty air carried a raw energy that mirrored the turmoil brewing within her. Today, the 1st of May, was a day she always needed to face alone.

She laid there, staring at the ceiling, the weight growing with each passing moment. Today, the air itself seemed thick with an unspoken grief, a shared memory of loss that resonated across the globe. 30 years. Three decades since the world had watched in horror as lives changed forever, hers included.

The sheets felt too restrictive, the silence too loud. Pulling them back, she tiptoed past the rumpled form of Lewis, still fast asleep. He'd offered to come with her, to run by the beach together, but she needed this. Needed the solitude, the rhythmic pounding of her feet against the pavement to chase away the ghosts of a past she barely remembered.

Miami slept, bathed in the faint glow of pre-dawn light, but Y/N felt wide awake, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. Stepping out onto the balcony, the salty air stung her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she gazed out at the vast expanse of the ocean, the darkness slowly giving way to a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks.

A single tear traced a path down her cheek, a silent tribute to a love stolen too soon. Every year on this day, it was as if the world held its breath, waiting for her grief to surface. This anniversary wasn't a celebration; it was a stark reminder of the void that had forever shaped her life.

The need to move, to outrun the memories that threatened to consume her, became an insistent ache. With each step, a memory flickered to life, but one always stood out the most, the one few people knew of.

She was four, piloting her tiny kart around a makeshift track at Interlagos. The familiar scent of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes flooded her senses, transporting her back to a time before tragedy struck. Y/n grinned, her hair whipping in the wind, as she pushed her little kart to its limits.

A wild turn, a sickening jolt, and the world tilted sideways. Then, strong arms scooped her up. "Tudo bem aí, filha?" (Everything okay there, darling?)  Her father's voice, warm and reassuring. He checked her over, a playful glint in his dark brown eyes. "Você tava indo bem, se assustou?" (You were doing great, did you scare yourself?)

Y/n shook her head, a defiant tear clinging to her cheek. “Eu acho que tá bom por hoje já.” (I think that’s enough for today) Ayrton ruffled her hair, a conforting glint in his eyes. “Não pai, eu quero baixar o tempo da volta”(No dad, I wanna lap faster) little y/n stood her ground, already half way back into her kart. "Vamos voltar lá e mostrar como se faz então, Senninha” (Let’s go back there and show who’s boss then, Senninha).

The memory faded, replaced by the rhythmic sound of the waves. Y/n stopped, chest heaving. Frustration gnawed at her. She would never know that feeling of hearing him cheer her on in that deep, familiar voice again. All she had were these fleeting snippets, these echoes of a life stolen too soon.

Each stride was a battle cry against the past, a desperate attempt to find some semblance of peace. She ran until the sun climbed higher, painting the sky in vibrant hues, until her lungs burned and her legs screamed for mercy. Finally, Y/n slowed to a walk, chest heaving, sweat stinging her eyes.

Collapsing onto a weathered bench, she leaned forward, hands on her knees, gasping for breath. As the initial wave of exhaustion subsided, a new clarity washed over her. The memories would always be there, a bittersweet reminder of a love lost.

But today, she would celebrate his life, his passion, his legacy that lived on, not just in her name, but in the hearts of countless who still chanted his name at races.

Returning to the hotel, Y/n showered, the steam slowly clearing the remnants of the run and the emotional turmoil. Opening the bathroom door, she found Lewis propped up on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up, a concerned look in his warm brown eyes.

"Morning," he said, his voice slightly raspy. "Early run?"

She offered a tired smile. "Needed to clear my head." She sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling a towel around her damp hair. "Big day ahead"

Lewis put down his phone, his gaze intent on her. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice softer now. "You alright?"

Taking another deep breath, she met his gaze. "Yeah, I'll be okay. Just… emotional, even more so this year"

Lewis reached out and took her hand, his touch a warm anchor in the storm of her emotions. "No judgment," he said quietly. "Today isn't easy for you, I know."

Y/n leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his understanding. "Interviews all day and the dinner at night" she sighed. "They want me to relive it all – the memories, the grief. It gets exhausting sometimes."

Lewis nodded. "Maybe you could have your people reschedule some of it. There's no need to—"

She cut him off with a gentle shake of her head. "No, Lew. I can't hide from it. Today may be hard, but it's important. It's a chance to celebrate his life, to keep his memory alive." she squeezed his hand, a newfound determination strengthening her resolve. "I just…" she hesitated, her voice thick with emotion, "I wish I could remember more."

Lewis's gaze softened further. "You may not have years of childhood memories, but you carry his spirit in you. His passion, his strength, that's part of who you are."

Y/n looked out the window, at the city slowly waking up to a new day. His words held truth. She may not have clear memories of her father, but his legacy, his love, was woven into the fabric of her being.

Taking another deep breath, she met Lewis's gaze, a small smile danced in her eyes "I hope so.”

Today would be impossibly hard. As people celebrated a hero, she would mourn a loss, but they would all be facing the future nonetheless. He may have been gone, but the love he gave her remained, with her and in her.

"I remember you my way, It’s not perfect or fair, I paint you with colours, That weren’t ever there. Feels harder these days after so long, ‘Cause my memory fades"

The sterile hotel conference room felt strangely warm, the air thick with a mix of anticipation and unspoken grief. Y/n sat opposite Galvão Bueno, the legendary Brazilian motorsport commentator, his kind eyes reflecting a lifetime of witnessing triumphs and tragedies on the track.

But this wasn't just another interview. Galvão knew Ayrton. Knew him not just as a driver, but as a friend, a competitor, a kindred spirit who left a void in Brazilian hearts, and most acutely, in Y/n's.

The interview began, a dance between formality and shared history. Galvão's questions flowed, laced with a quiet respect that Y/n appreciated. "Ayrton" he began, a nostalgic smile playing on his lips "sempre teve uma maneira diferente de cativar o público” (always had a way of captivating a room"

Y/n nodded, a flicker of curiosity sparking in her eyes. "Ele tinha” (He did) she admitted "Mas para ser bem honesta, eu lembro de sempre ficar puxando ele para sair dos lugares porque ele parava para conversar com todo mundo” (But to be honest, I remember always dragging him out of every room because he would stop and talk to everyone)

A warm chuckle escaped Galvão's lips at her confession. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Você sabia que antes de toda corrida, ele fazia um ritualzinho? Ele parava na frente do carro, fechava os olhos, e... bom, ninguém sabe direito o que ele fazia. Mas ele tocava o carro em três lugares específicos – o nariz, a roda direita dianteira, e aqui” (Did you know that before every race, he'd have this little ritual? He'd stand by his car, close his eyes, and…well, no one knew exactly what he did, but he'd touch the car in three specific places – the nose cone, the front right wheel, and then, right here) Galvão tapped his chest over his heart.

Y/n smiled, surprised that someone still remembered that sequence. But, although this was the Ayrton Senna she knew from the countless documentaries and newsreels, how he recounted that from memory was a glimpse of a private Ayrton, a man seeking solace and strength before the roar of the engines began, not something she would notice while watching a video.

"E tem mais, Senninha” (There's more, Senninha) he said, using the affectionate nickname many Brazilians called her by. "Você sabe que ele era muito supersticioso. Ele nunca usava um capacete novo pela primeira vez em um final de semana de corrida. Sempre insistia em um mais velho, mesmo que estivesse ruim para usar.” (He was fiercely superstitious, you see. He wouldn't wear a new helmet for the first time on a race weekend. Always insisted on the old one, even if it was a little worse for wear.)

Y/n couldn't help but let out a small laugh, a welcome sound that broke the tension in the room. "Parece exatamente algo que ele faria” (That sounds exactly like something he’d do) she said, a newfound appreciation blooming in her chest.

Galvão continued, weaving a tapestry of anecdotes. He spoke of Ayrton's meticulous work ethic, his relentless pursuit of perfection, and then, with a twinkle in his eye, of his playful side. "Ele sempre arrastava os reporters brasileiros para o kart em Interlagos, lá onde você aprendeu a pilotar” (He'd always drag Brazilian reporters to go-kart at Interlagos, right there where you learned how to race" he reminisced, a fond smile creasing his face. "E deixa eu te contar, seu pai sempre ganhava da gente, por muito!" (And let me tell you, your father would always beat us, by far)

Y/n listened, captivated. These were stories of a man, not just a legend. A man who found joy in competition, even outside the high-pressure world of Formula One. As the interview progressed, a kaleidoscope of Ayrton unfolded before her, a man filled with complexities and contradictions, yet undeniably her father.

Stepping out of the stifling conference room, Y/n felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Galvão's interview had stirred a potent cocktail of emotions within her – a heady mix of pride, nostalgia, and a gnawing sense of loss. Back in her hotel room, she found her ant Viviane unpacking a basket of goodies as she waited for her youngest niece. The scent of warm pão de queijo filled the air, a familiar comfort amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

"Você chegou, florzinha" (You’re here, little flower) the elder woman said, her voice as warm as the sun, pulling Y/n into a tight embrace. "Como foi?” (How did it go)

Y/n sank into the hug, the scent of lavender and her ant’s comforting embrace temporarily pushing aside the weight of the interview. "Foi bom” (It was good) she mumbled, pulling away slightly. “Galvão knew Dad well, that's for sure” y/n’s changed to English, hoping it’d be okay to use the language she didn’t have to think so hard to answer back in.

Both women sat by the outdoor sitting area of the room, the crash of the waves a comforting distraction as y/n ate the last bits of the cheese bread that were being served all day during the interviews on the anniversary and promotions for the new Netflix show.

"I believe everything's going well for the dinner latter tonight” the younger offered, more out of obligation than conviction. Viviane’s gaze sharpened, the lines around her eyes crinkling with a quiet understanding. She held Y/n’s gaze until she asked "But something troubles you, doesn't it?"

Y/n hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the edge of her shirt. It was a familiar pattern her family knew all too well, the switch to English, the fiddling, the lack of glint in the eyes she had inherited from Ayrton.

Taking a deep breath, y/n confessed, "It's just…all these interviews, all these stories about Dad. I feel like everyone knew a part of him I never did."

A shadow flickered across Viviane’s face, a brief echo of the grief they both still carried. She reached out, gently squeezing Y/n's hand. "My love" she began, her voice soft yet firm “Beco was a complex man. Even those closest to him couldn't fully grasp him. He was a whirlwind, a force of nature on the track, but off it…" she paused, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "He was a private man, and yes, perhaps a little distant at times. He lived for his racing, dedicating every fiber to it."

Y/n nodded, a familiar ache tightening her chest. "It's not that I blame him," she said quietly. "He was the best."

Viviane’s smile softened. "He was, my darling. But being the best came at a cost. It left little room for the mundane, the everyday things that build memories."

A flicker of a childhood memory sparked in Y/n's mind – the faint scent of her father's cologne, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers as they walked through a park. They weren't grand gestures, but they were hers, proof of a love that existed beyond trophies and championships.

The elder saw the shift in Y/n's eyes, the glimmer of a forgotten memory. "Não se compare com o Galvão ou com qualquer outro, meu amor” (Don't compare yourself to Galvão or the others, my love) she said gently. "Você é a filha dele. Você conheceu o Beco, o homem com o mesmo olhar que o seu” (You are his daughter. You knew Beco, the man with the same eyes as yours)

Y/n's gaze drifted out to the bustling Miami cityscape, a blur compared to the vivid image forming in her mind's eye – a playful smile on her father's face as he taught her how to say pão de queijo. It was a fleeting memory, but a precious one nonetheless.

The stories, though fragmented, were pieces of a larger puzzle, a picture of her father that was starting to take shape, not just as a legendary driver, but as a man capable of love, laughter, and quiet moments of joy.

As they finished their lunch, Viviane placed a comforting hand on Y/n's cheek. "Go now, my darling," she said, her voice soft yet strong. "Celebrate your father, honor his memory. But don't forget to celebrate the love you shared, the love that lives on within you."

Y/n nodded, tears welling up in her eyes, this time tears of gratitude for the woman who had been a constant source of love and support throughout her life. Leaning in, they embraced tightly. "Obrigada, tia. Por tudo" (Thank you, antie. For everything) she whispered, the words thick with emotion.

As she left the hotel room later, for another round of interviews before the official dinner, Y/n went to the window, gazing out at the ocean once again, taking a deep breath, she whispered, "Obrigada, pai. Por tudo.” (Thank you, dad. For everything). It was a simple phrase, but for her, it held the weight of a lifetime of love and an unspoken promise to keep his legacy alive.

"And these aren’t tears because you’re gone, But for all the years that we lost, All those times I missed that love, Had it just for a moment"

As the night dawned in Miami, the heat dissipated but the humidity continued to clung to the city like a second skin. Y/n bustled around the room, a flurry of nervousness. The dinner to celebrate Ayrton Senna’s legacy started in a couple of hours and although the event had been meticulously planned for weeks, and by at least 30 people, the weight of the world felt concentrated on Y/n shoulder’s, the formal host to the dinner.

Lewis emerged from the shower, a towel wrapped around his lower waist, beads of water clinging to his dark braids. He stopped short at the sight of Y/n, a smile spreading across his face as he took sight of her sat perched on the edge of the bed, a faded white t-shirt of his hanging loosely on her frame, a white towel turbaned around her wet hair.

"Planning on hitting the town like that?" he teased, a playful glint in his eyes. "Although" he added, his voice dropping a touch lower, "I do love the look."

Y/n laughed, a sound that banished the last vestiges of worry from Lewis's heart. "Not quite," she said, her smile widening. "I’m trying to figure out what to post"

He noticed her phone held open on the bed, displaying two video options. As he walked closer, his bare chest brushing against hers for a fleeting moment – a small reminder of the intimacy they shared – Y/n looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with a light he hadn't yet seen earlier in the day.

"Help me choose" she said, her voice filled with a newfound energy.

He picked her up and sat her on his laps, occupying her place by the edge of the bed, the scent of his shower gel a subtle but pleasant counterpoint to the sweet aroma of the lotion she had applied. He leaned over to see the two videos.

The first one, showed a baby Y/n, barely a year old, toddling through a sun-dappled garden, her chubby arms flailing as she chased a flurry of brightly colored butterflies. In the background, Ayrton with a gentle smile on his face, playfully swatting the butterflies away from his daughter.

The second video, showed a slightly older Y/n, around two years-old, in a swimming pool. Ayrton, submerged in the water next to her, was demonstrating how to blow bubbles. Y/n, a mischievous glint in her eyes, mimicked his actions, creating a flurry of glistening bubbles that danced around her face.

"The bubble one. Something about that mischievous gleam in your eyes always has me hooked” Lewis said, amusement dancing in his voice

Y/n laughed, a sound so genuine and unburdened that it made Lewis's heart skip a beat. "I was always a rowdy thing" she admitted, a playful glint in her own eyes.

"A charming one, at that" Lewis confirmed, reaching out to kiss her shoulder. Picking the video, Lewis handed the phone back to her. "Let the world see that side to you" Y/n grinned, tapping on the screen to schedule the post.

She got up and disappeared into the bathroom to get dressed, and a few minutes later Lewis walked into Y/n intently listening to her phone on speaker, as she fiddled with a stray curl as she spoke.

"Adriane" she soothed; her voice laced with a warmth that cut through the phone's static. "Você está indo como minha convidada, lembra?” (You're coming as my guest, remember?)

A nervous laugh tinkled on the other end. “Eles sabem disso?” (Do they know that?). Andriane, Ayrton's last girlfriend and a prominent Brazilian television personality.

Y/n bit her lip, a pang of sympathy shooting through her. "Eu sei.” (I do know) she sighed. "Eu sei que eles nunca realmente te aceitaram, mas você era diferente. Você foi a única que ele me apresentou” (I know they never really accepted you, but you were different. You were the only one he introduced to me."

A brief silence followed, then Adriane spoke, her voice softer now. "Ele queria uma família, Y/n. Uma família para você. Ele sempre falava isso, seu futuro, com ele” (He wanted a family, Y/n. A family for you. He talked about it all the time, your future, with him)

Y/n's heart clenched. Memories flickered – fleeting glimpses of her father smiling at her from across a dinner table, his eyes holding a tenderness she hadn't quite understood at the time. Perhaps, she thought, there had been more to those moments than she'd realized.

"Obrigada Adriane, por tudo. Por ter sido parte da vida dele, e por ser parte da minha, do seu jeito.” (Thank you Adriane, for everything. For being a part of his life, and for being a part of mine, in your own way) she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Adriane sniffled softly and then laughed “Você é tão charmosa quanto ele, Senninha” (You are as much of a charmer as he was, Senninha) a sound that banished the last traces of tension. "Vai dar tudo certo.” (Everything will be alright)

With a final exchange of goodbyes, Y/n hung up. Glancing over at Lewis, who was attempting to catch the few Portuguese words he could understand. She took a deep breath. "My family’s not gonna make this any easier" she sighed, her voice hesitant.

Lewis turned and reached for her, pulling her by the waist with a questioning look etched on his face. Y/n, feeling a flicker of anxiety, explained the conversation, but mostly of the unwavering loyalty she felt towards the woman who held such a significant piece of her father's story.

As she finished, Lewis placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "You miss him, don't you?" he asked softly, his eyes filled with understanding as you gave him a sad smile and nod.

"It doesn't matter how long it's been" Lewis continued, his voice firm yet gentle. "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Y/n remained silent, the weight of his words settling in. He knew the anniversary was a constant reminder, a punch to the gut every year. He could only imagine the whirlwind of emotions it brought – the bittersweet memories mixed with the crushing weight of what could have been.

"It feels unfair, sometimes…" she started, her voice catching signaling she wouldn’t complete her thoughts. Lewis tightened his hold on her, pulling her closer. "It is unfair," he agreed, his voice a low rumble against her ear.

Y/n leaned into his touch, seeking solace in his words and the steady beat of his heart. The dam finally broke, and a light sob went thought her body. Tears streamed down her face, hot and silent. Lewis held her close, whispering reassurances against her hair, letting her feel without judgment.

"Every year," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion, "it's like a punch to the gut. A reminder of all the birthdays, holidays, just…everyday moments I missed with him." Her voice cracked. "Everyone has stories, memories. They remember his laugh, his jokes, his warmth. All I have are these…flashes of moments, barely enough to string together a semblance of who he was."

Lewis didn't try to fix it, to offer empty platitudes. He simply held her gaze as she spoke, a silent promise etched in his eyes. He wouldn't try to replace the memories she never had, but he would be a part of her future, a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold.

“It's okay to mourn the future that was stolen from you” he whispered, his voice gentle, as Y/n leaned into his touch, a flicker of something akin to peace flickering in her eyes. "Do you think he would have liked me?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

The question hung heavy in the air. It was a question she'd probably grappled with for years, a silent fear gnawing at the edges of her grief. Lewis knew he couldn't give her a definitive answer, but he could offer her the solace of a possibility.

"There's no doubt he would have loved you fiercely." he said, his voice firm with conviction. “And he would have been so proud of the woman you've become."

Silence settled between them once more, but this time it was a comfortable silence, filled with a newfound understanding. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For being here, for listening, for understanding."

Y/n turned, her eyes meeting his in the mirror, a fresh wave of tear forming in her eyelids. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"These aren't sad tears" she explained, wiping away at her eyes "They're just…wish you were here' kind of tears… For this" Y/n gestured at the phone on the counter. "For the celebration, for being surrounded by people who loved him. I just wish he could be here too."

Her voice softened, an acceptance in her eyes. The pain and loss would always be there, a part of her story. But there was also space for joy, for celebrating his life, and for building a future for herself.

As he pulled her into a warm embrace, Lewis whispered into her ear, "He is here, Y/n. In you, in your strength, in the mischief you still carry in your eyes. Every step you take forward is partly because of his love for you."

They stood there for a moment longer, a silent conversation passing between them. Y/n pulled away, wiping the last vestiges of moisture from her cheeks.

"Alright then" she said, a playful glint back in her eyes. "Let's go celebrate Dad. And show Miami a little Brazilian hospitality."

Lewis grinned. "Lead the way" his arms wrapping her and turning her around so he could kiss her.

The 30th anniversary of his death, although grim and a meticulously planned affair, held a significance that went beyond events, interview and RSVPs. It was a celebration of a life well-lived, a father cherished, and a daughter determined to carry his legacy forward, one mischievous bubble at a time.

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

[lilasamaaa]

Wicked games | Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader

Genre | Fluff, some light angst.

Word count | 1.5K.

Warnings | Some sexual innuendos, reader playfully gaslighting Max.

Summary | You love Max, you really do. But there’s just something about your brother’s teammate… as a driver, of course. 

Author's note | This piece was requested! Thanks to the lovely anon who came up with the idea, I had so much fun writing it! This is shorter than what I usually write, but I wanted to keep this one light and fun :)

"Babe?" Max's voice comes from the living room. "Are you ready to go?"

This weekend, it's the iconic Monaco Grand Prix, and you're delighted not to have to take a flight and endure jet lag from the other side of the world for once. Not that you're complaining about having the privilege to travel so much, but you understand what flight attendants mean when they say that flying makes you age prematurely. Before the bustling week begins and paralyzes the entire city, you, your brother, and Max had agreed to go eat lunch at your favorite place before the boys had to attend their pre-race press conference.

"I'm almost done," you shout back, placing bobby pins in your bun, when you hear the footsteps of your boyfriend approaching until they reach the door.

"We're..." Max starts before his gaze lands on you. "Oh, no, baby. There's no way you're wearing that."

You arch an eyebrow, observing your boyfriend in the large mirror of the bathroom.

"What's wrong with my outfit?" you ask, tilting your head.

"You're not really going to wear that, are you? Not while holding my hand?" Max replies, starring at your white tennis skirt and red Ferrari polo while you let out a hearty laugh.

"I might be your girlfriend, Max Verstappen, but I'm a Ferrari fan first and foremost. You knew this when you first asked me out."

"Of course I know, baby, but there's a difference between supporting Ferrari and... walking around with their colors on the street. With me."

"Are you playing territorial right now?" you ask, putting both hands on his chest, struggling to suppress your laughter.

"If you're so set on wearing red, why don't you try something more... Discreet? Like the red dress I brought you from Miami?"

"I'm wearing the polo, Max. It'll make Charles happy. And Carlos too," you add, winking at your boyfriend before walking towards the living room.

"Huh? What's the connection with Carlos?" Max asks, following you. "Is Carlos invited to the restaurant?"

Ever since Max and you started dating, several years ago, this has been your favorite game. Never gets old. You just love mentioning the Scuderia and its drivers. It's not that he hates the team, no, after all, as Sebastian once said, everyone's a Ferrari fan. But while Max understands your attachment to the team in relation with your brothers, there's one thing he finds less understandable... Your fascination with the other driver.

"You didn't tell me Carlos was coming," Max says again, still following around while you put on your jewelry.

"I didn't think it was important," you shrug, smirking.

Let it be clear : you don't feel anything for Carlos. No attraction whatsoever. But ever since the Spaniard joined the team and became a close friend of Charles, your relationship naturally developed to the point where today, you genuinely consider Carlos as a member of your family. You've even met his own, spent holidays with them, and you've crashed at Carlos' place multiple times before. Sometimes, when you need someone to talk to and Charles and Max are too biased, too closely involved with you to provide good insight, you call Carlos. The same way the driver always comes to you when he's got girls troubles. Yes, the two of you share a beautiful, tight bond. And knowing there's no ambiguity between the two of you (Max knows it too, deep down), you love driving your boyfriend crazy by mentioning Carlos.

"What's the matter, Max?" you ask, turning around, smiling at him.

"Look, I don't say anything when you sleep on his couch, or when you spend hours on the phone with his sisters. It doesn't even bother me when you check his results, and I surely didn't say anything when you celebrated his victory in Australia while my car was giving me hell," Max continues, gesturing with his hands. "But isn't this a bit much?"

"What is?"

"You said we were going out... As a family? Like, your brother, you and me?"

"Carlos is family," you reply, playing dumb.

"You..." Max starts, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay, yeah. Whatever." your boyfriend says, throwing his hands in the air.

As Max and you arrive hand in hand in front of the restaurant where Charles and Carlos are waiting, you don't miss the look your brother gives you upon seeing you dressed in the red polo.

"You're fucking impossible," Charles mutters while kissing your cheek.

Once inside, as the four of you walk over to your table, you still see the opportunity to drive Max crazy by sitting across from Charles. Next to Carlos. Diagonally, your boyfriend watches you, eyebrows furrowed, a hint of annoyance in his eyes.

"Miami was so fun," you start, taking the menu.

"You and I must have a different definition of the word" Max says, rolling his eyes.

"Well, it's not so unpleasant to see someone else cross the finish line before you, for once," you reply teasingly.

"Like in Melbourne?" Max asks with an ironic smile.

"Like in Melbourne," you nod, winking at your boyfriend before turning your attention to the Spaniard. "You did so good, Carlos. I'll have you know that I was rooting for you from the start."

"Yeah," Charles interjects, rolling his eyes. "We know."

The table is engulfed in a heavy silence, and you enjoy yourself so much, your eyes sparkling mischievously.

"There's some tension in here, am I right?" Carlos asks after some time, looking at all three of you in turn.

"She's been bugging me about you all morning," Max replies, taking a sip of his coke. "She thinks it's funny."

"Why would you do that?" Carlos asks, looking at you, eyes wide. "You know he's going to push me off-track because of you, next time."

"You're better than them, that's all," you reply, eyes fixated on the menu in front of you. "They just can't admit it."

"Now, that's just nasty coming from my own sister," Charles says, laughing. "Take that back."

"Leave her to it," Max says to your brother, giving you a meaningful look. "She's decided to be bratty today. She knows it drives me crazy."

"We should all know less about each other," Carlos says before gesturing for the waiter to come over, while Charles tries to hide the red from his face with his menu.

The meal goes well, the false tensions easing over a succession of delicious dishes. But you're not done with your little game. Not yet. As the server clears your plates and refills your wine, you lean in towards Carlos.

"What dessert do you recommend? I'm in the mood for something sweet," you ask Carlos, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

Across from you, your brother sighs, running a hand across his face, while Max stares at you in a way you know all too well. A look that tells you that once the two of you set foot back in your shared apartment, you're going to pay for your behavior. Big time. But for now, you don't care, leaning over Carlos' menu, your shoulders pressed together. The Spaniard is so innocent, so far from imagining that you're using him to lead your boyfriend exactly where you want him.

"Their crème brûlée is delicious," the driver replies mechanically, eyes still looming over the piece of paper.

"Crème brûlée it is, then," you reply, setting back in your chair. "I just love to make them crack," you finish, locking eyes with Max.

That's it. You're fucked. Max's usually clear eyes are dark with annoyance and desire. Feeling the heat in your lower belly, you lower your gaze, finding it hard to meet your boyfriend's eyes. You can't wait to get home, knowing that with the afternoon of interviews ahead of him, your boyfriend will have to suppress his desire until tonight, amplifying his frustration. After dessert, the four of you head to the cashier, where Max pays for everyone before leading you all outside.

Carlos gives you a quick hug before heading back to his car, promising to call you soon, knowing that the other two drivers will follow him in a few moments. Charles approaches you, and you throw yourself in his arms, pressing your nose against his neck.

"You've got to stop doing that," your brother mumbles playfully in your ear. "You're not the one who has to deal with his awful mood in the paddock afterward."

"He's just so easy to rile up," you say, as both of you let out a laugh.

Charles pinches your cheek before waving to Max and joining Carlos in his car. You find yourself facing Max and give him a radiant smile. Perfectly innocent.

"You're the worst," your boyfriend starts, crossing his arms against his chest.

"You just love me," you say, sticking out your tongue.

"I'm going to ruin you tonight," he concludes, pulling you towards him before kissing you passionately, his hands grazing your buttocks, barely covered by your short skirt. "Show you who's better than who."

"I can't wait," you mutter against his mouth, softly biting his lower lip before taking the keys from his car in the back pocket of his jeans.

"Can't wait," you repeat, watching your boyfriend walk away until he disappears into the backseat of Carlos' car.

[supermaks]

Omg this verstappie rewatch is literally gonna be the whole season lmao

Part 1 2016-2018 > Part 2 2019-2022

In 2013, after becoming the World and European KZ class Champion, European OF class Champion, Continental KF class champion, and 3rd place laureate in the World KF class, 15 year old Max Verstappen had turned that years karting scene into a 'one man show' according to Vroomkart International. The title of the piece wasted no time posing what was, admittedly, a very bold question:

Gentlemen, a short view into the 2023 season

Baku, 2023. Ik what ur thinking. 19 wins and ur gonna start wid fucking Baku? And yes 🙂I will, and so shud u 🫵🏽Max lost Baku. The pole, the sprint and the race. Lingered about 3 secs behind checo after the SC, never closed the gap. And guess what, Baku was actually one of the most important races of this season, Maxs own words. Because that inconsistent pace? Those choppy lap times, killing his tires? Max was learning how to setup his car. Rb19 was clearly rb18s big brother, a real sunday beast, faster, more reliable, but a lil sensitive, demanded some hands on attention from his boy. So Max turned Baku into their fp4. U can c it on his onboard, hear him asking for different settings, toggling wid the balance. Those of us who know Max, we kinda suspected what he was up to. But it seemed others didnt. And whatvr max was about to do to these people in Miami bro, it wud be the type of reckoning u read about in the bible.

Miami, 2023. When max qualified p9 cheers echoed across both Americas. After the Baku loss, the slow start to the season, there was hope. Max Verstappen was about to lose the championship lead. People bought into the fairytale and they were loud about it too. They taunted him, booed him and his mechanics in parc ferme. And then Max was p2 by lap 15. Cut thru the field like butter and the whole stint he kept setting purples. Fastest lap after fastest lap. By lap 40 his hards were outpacing fresh mediums on a track u cud fry an egg on. Red bulls strategy for Max required the impossible and that's exactly what Max delivered. Before Miami, Checo was a title contender. After Miami, he was barely a competitor. Max took the 'tire whisperers' ambitions and grinded them into dust in 45 laps or less. It was the race that marked the beginning of the most dominant individual season in Formula 1 history but at its core, in classic Verstappen style, it was a lesson. A very simple one.

Shot by Brook Ward.

Monaco, 2023

- Qualifying Yk who doesn’t give a FUCK about lessons tho, Monaco. Monaco wont be taught by no man. But it’s 2023. This classic immovable object about to meet the most unstoppable force in modern sport history. Max's very first pole in Monaco, and fittingly so, it came out of an all-timer session. One of those saturdays that make u understand why the tax dodging diva of f1 is going absolutely nowhere. Pole switched between Ocon, Yuki, Sharl and Alonso right up until Max did his thing. 2 mins to the checkered flag, it looked like Nando had it locked. 2 untouchable purples, textbook. It wud have been a beautiful moment, a deserved reward for an old dawg who’d kept at it and had a capable car again. Unfortunately for Nando, though, Sennas illegitimate child clocked in that Saturday. He had a bit of a history wid third sectors that once fucked him. But it's 2023, so this wud be the one that made him. Max put 3 tenths on Alonso's head in one of the shortest, most technical corners of the entire calendar. F1's 'sunday' driver by excellence, the one stop pacemaker, the metronome, the endurance machine, proved that he was all that and also, in fact, the type of elite qualifier who can write his signature on the walls of Monte Carlo.

- Race Monaco is all about Saturday obvi but imo this years race is also worth watching because its actually kind of a banger wid mixed conditions, insane strategies and because this is a verstappie rewatch, u get to c Max at his best: in a chaotic packed field under the rain.

Canada, 2023. Speaking of rain masters. Senna's legend has been clinging to Max from the very first time he traumatized wet cat Rosberg in Brazil in 2016 but it was this year, in Canada, wid Nando and Lewis by his side, the guys who were also there, who saw it happen too, that Max finally matched Senna's win tally. 41. It was a perfect weekend, a testament to the talent that allowed a 26 year old to overtake Ayrton Senna in the record book, and it began, as if in tribute, wid a soaking wet qualifying. Max's pole lap was one second faster than the rest of the grid. One full second. If ur a Nando or a Lewis fan, I wud definitely give it sunday a watch as well because old gays were definitely out there. Also we got this. What yall know about this .

Shot from Nurphoto.

Lemme tell u something rn: Ur looking at 12 world championships, 189 wins, and a 14 year old gap from youngest to oldest. You're looking at statistically, the most successful driver of all time, the guy whose racecraft still seen by many as the finest this sport has ever seen, and a kid who's been sitting between them since he was 17 years old. The same kid who, a few racers later, broke records that existed long before the other two were even born. Yk, Lewis said it better than I ever cud, 'this is quite an iconic top 3'.

Austria, 2023. Why are u a Verstappen fan? U ever been asked that question. Ik i have. 😐 Lots of possible answers. To me Austria has all of them. In Canada, Checo barely made the finish line while Max pushed rbr to their 100th team victory and ((unofficially)) began his chase of the Vettel record. Mind u the mf wont admit that’s what he’s doing, but it is. Him, GP, the whole team. They want it. But we'll get to that. Max is a hunter, and his boy car is the best hound of his career so far. Together, they’d caught the scent. Races like Australia, Spain, Monaco, Canada, they showed it was possible. His management was getting Schumacher shouts, his qualifying was getting Senna's. Clarks proficiency. 2023 can be understood as the result of Max's life long pursuit of perfection, the crowning point of his hard work, the realization of all his potential, that prodigal nature that had been so obvious for so long, finally, entering its prime wid a car that can make history. And yet. AND YET. max has something that all those other legendary mfs lack. Something that is deeply, deeply Max’s. Free practice 1 in Austria and that talented, beautiful creature of God was ready to send it all to hell to make a POINT. Austria was a sprint this year, so already you've pissed him off. During fp1, Lewis impeded Max like once.

((And listen

Lewis saw that boy enter the paddock and immediately called security and along wid seb vettel and raikkonen launched a class action lawsuit against him on the grounds of a) fuck b) them kids. Then 6 years later Lewis and that now grown ass man spent a whole legendary season trying to kill each other. U c how this relationship may have some residue of . lets say. conflict.))

So Lewis impeded Max in fp1 and Max's raytheon hamilton-calibrated sensors activated and he did nothing less but the exact same thing in sprint qualifying. Blocked old mans flying lap. Lewis is limping thru this weekend, mind u, like it’s almost sad. It’s kinda elderly abuse. THEN, the actual sprint. Again, Austria is red bull's home turf. packed wid red bull fans. The car is a rocket, they're on a streak, lots of good photo ops for the team. It started raining. Even better. Lights out, and Checo took the lead first and in the process like . squeezed Max a lil bit. Pushed him on the grass. U can guess what happened next. 😐😐😐😐To answer that first question and to quote somebody who knows him, Max is Max. No matter where, how, against who. Wid a rocketship, wid a hole in his car, winning, losing, fighting for the lead against Lewis Hamilton, fighting for sixth against baby schumi, refusing to comply wid team orders against sainz, scolding danny ric about discipline, waiting 7 months to deliver his justice in brazil, calling russell a dickhead in Baku, whether in front of 300 000 haters in Silverstone of half a million fans in Spielberg, he'll do what he thinks is right. Thats the kind of mf that wins constructors all by himself. 575 points, on his own. Over 1000 laps lead. Max Verstappen has not succeeded in f1 despite his character, but because of it. Because when Checo squeezed him at the start of a stupid fucking sprint that wont make a dent in his records or his lead, Max collected his car and lunged thru the inside line like the title wud be decided in the next turn. He was willing to send himself, checo, and a goddamn haas to hell to remain at the front. And that’s why I'm a fan.

Zandvoort, 2023. 9 consecutive wins. A race that u feel in ur stomach because you know what it means. The sheer size of the accomplishment. That word ringing in everybodys ears since Miami. Inevitable. inevitable. Up until it happened, and then obvi Monza wid the perfect 10, nobody really wanted to believe it. seb's 9 was one of those things held sacred and hallowed by the sport. Like Schumachers points in a season, Ascaris win percentage, Clarks laps lead, and Hamiltons consecutive podiums. Sacred things. And in 2023, the nonbeliever broke them all. Grasped and squeezed wid his very cynical hands. They’re his now. No one else’s. What he did, no one else can do. Max is always outstanding in Zandvoort tbh, thats his track, his fans, his weather. But this years quali was particularly emblematic of the gap to the rest of the grid , and his teammate especially. 1.7s faster than checo. The race was just as impressive. Rain hit early on, complete chaos, and while everybody scrambled to choose the right tires, GP was in Max’s ear, calm as ever, 'it’s up to you'. It really was. It always was.

Zandvoort, 2023. > Monza, 2023.

Japan, 2023. Red Bulls factory crowning weekend. Coming out a disaster Singapore, yet another statement win. Singapore had showed what it took to slow down Verstappen in 2023: not just the wrong setup, but the wrong strategy too. As we'll c in Texas, like we've seen in 2016, 2019, 2020, a machine off the pace alone wont stop Max from winning races. In Suzuka, rocky was back into his operational window, and Max proved exactly who was it that singlehandedly delivered the constructors championship. One of those classic Max weekends. 20 drivers on track but 2 different leagues and he's on his own. Wid a 177 point lead over his teammate, yet another record broken, biggest point gap between 1st and 2nd. ((In the end, the margin was 290)). Max names Suzuka as his most satisfying pole lap of the season. Bro put half a second on the grid in one go.

COTA, 2023. just something in the Americas ((me)) that unlocks the extra prodigal gene in this mf. Talent of the century? Put his ass in North America we can stretch that shit to the millennium idc idc . Miami, Texas, Brazil, Mexico, and now Vegas, to me these are cornerstones of Verstappen excellence. Max holds the record for most wins in a single geographical location over one season. ((Of course he does)) 10 consecutive wins in NA, across state lines, country borders, wid different conditions, tracks, circuits, tires, formats, setups. This years’ Austin GAG? Apparently they didn’t set the tarmac right. track was a bumpy mess. Max struggled from the start wid braking issues and tire wear, but he kept his head cool because he knew he had the basics. There was once a time before the rb19 , when all he had was a cap and 1 year of open wheel experience, and his 18 year old self put on a clinic against a 30 year old world champion on how to defend on old faulty rubber. That’s exactly what Max did in Cota. Bro was able to make up for aerodynamic loss wid nothing but pedal and wheel work. Do not talk to him during braking. Do not fucking talk to him during braking. That’s all Max asked. 50th win. Offically 3rd OAT, behind Vettel, Hamilton and Schumacher. ((He’s now alone in 3rd OAT, wid 53 wins.)). He’s 26. After Merc and Ferrari were proclaimed ‘illegal’ what truly shocked me wasn’t that they tried to cheat, but that they wud try to pull that shit against this Verstappen, in this car, in 2023. They lowered their floors for smoother suspensions to fight Adrian Neweys Frankenstein monster but the real machine was sitting right behind the wheel. And he won. Actually, he mollywhooped those bitches. Not the floor, not the wings, just a damn good racing driver. Good luck next time.

Qatar gp, 2023. Dutch man allergic to winning world championships in a normal way, millions left emotionally berated every year begging for the sweet release of ted kravitzs voice. No I’m jk but actually tell me why this fool cud not have waited for the race to clinch it. Bro had the title confirmed by a sprint where he finished SECOND. As a verstappie, imma tell u to watch this because it’s like. get out of my face rn I love you so much I’m so happy for u also that helmet is so pretty. In Qatar, Max became 1 of 5 drivers who won back to back to back world championships. After the year 2000, 1 of 3. Along wid the biggest championship margin in the most successful season of all time, well. 1 of 1.

Las Vegas, 2023. ummm ok ik this may SHOCK u but he wasn’t a fan. Max spent the whole season bitching about Vegas and breaking records and threatening retirement like that’s literally a fair description of events. Just very verstappen and migraine inducing type of shit. But yes, Vegas. Vegas held no old school appeal whatsoever. And he was right about some things. He never berated the circuit itself, the quality of the racing, just the show around it. U shud build for the track, not around it. It’s not that difficult to understand, or even that unpopular. But Max forgot about one important thing that wud prolly hurt his cause. He has never landed on US soil and not served. The plot armor wud simply never let my baddie have her AHA!!!!moment in Nevada. So I want u to open that cringe FUCKING compilation Sunday stream of the Vegas gp and c what happens when a sleep deprived verstappen and his so called ‘dominant’ ‘untouchable’ ‘unbeatable’ ‘rocket ship’ are released on a frozen track wid barely any data because one of the potholes burst and cut practices into 10 mins. Bitch what happens is good fucking f1 😭😭😭 Some real formula uno cabron 😭😭 Max retakes the lead at the start, overcooks his frozen tires, pushes sharl off, gets a penalty, serves his penalty, comes back wid gods wrath emanating from his fugly white helmet, obliterates the gap to first and Russell along wid it ((🫡)) passes both cars in front in one slick veteran move and sinks his teeth into p1 for the remaining 13 laps. And wins. Maybe not his most characteristic win, but def the funniest one. Stupid ass even sang Elvis. That’s an f1 driver bitch. He can’t trick me.

Here we are. Abu Dhabi. Breathe out. Red Bull won constructors in Japan, Max won the drivers championship in Qatar. It all started wid a lesson, remember? Max was a good teacher. He spent 8 months making sure we learned. Did you?

By Abu Dhabi, 2023, Max had officially set 20 new records, including the record for most records broken in a season by a single driver. 5 of those achievements had already been set in 2022, just upgraded in 2023: most wins in a season, most podiums in a season, most consecutive wins from pole, most hat tricks in a season, and most consecutive top two finishes in history. 3 of his achievements, however, kept him on the hunt until the very last lap: 3rd most wins of all time, over a 1000 laps lead, and the highest percentage of wins in the sports history. Max got them all. He’s now, statistically, the sole protagonist of the most dominant season in f1, and f1’s 3rd most successful driver, behind Schumacher and Hamilton. Max won 19 out of 22 races. 10 of those wins were consecutive. Right now, he’s already on another streak. 3 more wins and he matches his own record. 4 and he resets the book forever. What Max did wid the rb19 needs to be watched again and again and again, because it’ll be years. YEARS .Until we begin to learn how to truly appreciate it. This is just my humble attempt.

In Abu Dhabi, the job was done wid a series of incredible defensive moves that completely shut the door on sharl. No flashy overtakes, no heroics on the inside line. Just strong classic defending. Sharls attack was dealt wid, nullified, the gap was built, set and managed, and Max saw the fireworks 17 seconds earlier than the rest. In 2023, Max was untouchable by all but one. The car he called ‘rocky’. The only car, to this day, according to the man himself, that ever saw him smile before he crossed the finish line. That ever made him happy before it made him a winner.

You tell me.

[thequeenb]

The Perfect Ending

2 whole years..who would ever believe that Poppy would be the relationship type? Not me. I know what a lot of you are wondering what the hell we were up to the past years..well let me fill you up.

“Are you done packing? The flight leaves in literally 40 minutes” I say with a pinch of annoyance because one thing about being with Poppy is that you will always be late

“You can’t rush beauty darling” she looks at me over the bathroom mirror and gives me a wink. Ugh sometimes I hate how attractive she is

After Collage ended and we graduated with both our degrees we decided to take a holiday to her Miami Beach house..I know right?

We arrived to our gate and we finally settled down to the plane, of course we sit first class you didn’t even have to wonder.

“Well we have 2 hours so if you excuse me I will get on with my skincare routine” she says and the flashbacks come back almost immediately of our first hookup in her room

“Well your skin looks like shit Hughes so let me do you a favour” she straddle my lap and I am probably looking up at her with starry eyes because she has a satisfied smirk on her face

“I didn’t knew you had a soft spot for me Poppy but a girl can take a break” I wink at her and she rolls her eyes at me..how adorable I always loved when she did that

“If you are my rival you better look good” she casually says and why did I get turned on suddenly? I realise how close she is and how her breasts are pressed against mine. Damn it stop being so horny! But how can I not? Her perfectly glossed lips, her beautiful silk blonde hair..her soft hands working on my face..it’s almost too much

“Bea for the last time do you want champagne? Sorry she apparently has a hearing problem” Poppy says to the flight attendant and I roll my eyes nodding

“I thought after you asked me out you would stop bullying me” I stick my tongue out and I can see a small smile playing on her lips

“Well tell me what got you all parched” she hands me the champagne flute and gives me a smile I could never resist

“That’s for you to find out Min-Sinclair, in the meantime I want to focus to you” I place my hand on her thigh ever so flirty and she lets a small gasp escape her lips

“Careful what you wish for Bea..I don’t play nice, you should be the only one who knows that”

And she is right..if I close my eyes I can pin point the exact moments she tried to ruin me, but on the other side i can almost feel all the times she made me feel like no one ever did before

“Well? Are we playing dirty?” She locks eyes with me and I settle my champagne down.

Her eyes never leaving mine she watches me flip my hair back seductively

“I feel so worked up Poppy..maybe you can help me” this phrase reminded me of that time we fought for the crown..how we had a cat fight in the fountain..how much I wanted her

“I feel so worked up Poppy” it’s the only words that escape my lips “maybe you can help me unwind” are you kidding me? You literally slapped her, dragged her across the fountain and ruined her manicure and that’s what you are going to say?

Interestingly enough she doesn’t look angry anymore..I can feel her heat radiating off her body and she slams me against the fountain, water splashes everywhere as her tongue goes playfully in my mouth and all I can feel is her

I blink a few times trying to cool down and she knows what kind of effect she has on me because she smirks and gets back on her seat. Sigh she is not someone to play with I learnt that from the first time she approached me

Our plane finally lands and a private car was waiting for us to take us back to the house.

I didn’t expect anything less..the car pulls up to a gate and when they open I can see a beautiful house and palm trees everywhere decorating the big garden

The car finally stops and Poppy hurries to open my door. I step out and I try my best not to gasp

“You can gasp Farmsville this is far from the land you grew up on” she winks at me and I roll my eyes

We walk inside and the house is beautiful as expected but what catches my eye is the big window where you can see the beach, the waves the sunset

“This is where I came when you humiliated me in front of all my father’s clients and the whole school” she casually says but a pinch of guilt fills my heart, it wasn’t my proudest moment

I hold the award in my hands and I can’t believe I finally beat Poppy Min-Sin bitch at her own little game. She stormed out after I humiliated her and her parents but why do I feel guilty? Isn’t that what I planned for since I first got here?

“Make a speech make a speech make a speech” everyone is chanting and I finally feel the weight of the award in my hand..the weight of what I just did to Poppy

I hold her tight, a small tear escaped my eye but she just smiles at me giving me a gentle kiss on my forehead “Don’t be sad..remind me to punish you later for that night”

I laugh and I wipe my tears getting my attention back to the window. The waves perfectly collide with the sand and I get the perfect idea

“Let’s go to the beach I am dying to watch the sunset with you” is it my idea or did my proposition made her nervous? She quickly recovers and offers me a smile. Sure she says and she leads me to the coast

She holds my hand tight and for a moment everything looks perfect. The sun is going down and the deep orange colour blends beautifully with the blue sky..the birds fly freely in the air and Poppy looks more than gorgeous under the sunset

I must have been daydreaming for a moment because when I regain my focus Poppy is down on one knee. Excuse me!?

“I get my dress dirty for this so you better say yes” she takes a deep breath and continues

“Since the moment that I met you you have been nothing but a challenge for me, even in the beginning you didn’t know how to dress”

I roll my eyes but I can start feel the tears forming in my eyes, I can’t believe this is happening

“I didn’t even bat an eye at you but you decided to make my life a living hell and I promised to make yours even worse”

“I fell for you since you first kissed me but then I heard that hog calling video and I wanted to go deaf” she chuckles

“I didn’t imagine I could feel this way but you proved to be a worthy opponent and someone who kept me always on my toes..when I found out of your affair with Kingsley I should have used it and destroy you but it only made me more sad”

Now my tears run freely like a waterfall but she is quick to wipe them for me..I didn’t realise I fell to my knees to her eye level..holding her hand so tight

“And since then I knew I didn’t want to be with anyone but you..someone who always challenges me and changes me for the better so that only leaves me with one question”

I gasp when she reaches and opens a small velvet box revealing the most beautiful diamond ring I have ever seen

“Bea Hughes will you marry me?”

I immediately scream yes and she struggles to put the ring on fast enough, we are already covered in sand kissing each other like there is no tomorrow

“I can’t believe you proposed!!” I scream happily and I am not the only one cheering because when I turn around I watch all our friends and family smiling at us “No you didn’t!!”

Zoey hugs me first spectating on my beautiful ring and then comes my parents which I am surprised Poppy flew from Farmsvile.

“From a farm girl to your fiancé how are you feeling?” I smile at her and she simply roll her eyes at me

“Don’t make me regret proposing Hughes”

And that’s how our story ended..watching the sunset with my fiancé gasp! From enemies to lovers and from lovers to newly weds..who knew the two hot rivals from Belvoire could ever end like this? I bet the T would love an inside story about our wedding..I am just kidding..or am I?

Kisses, the T

Tag list: @indecisive-chaos @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @ghalind @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @dibberdipper @aiswood @alexlabhont @uselesslesbianfr @wolfietheduckyou @somin-yin @stanzoeywade @uhh-the-green-thing @jmojellybae @simp-pony @made-me-deep-blue @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @thepotatobleh @thatwhorefromnextdoor @cloud9in @promisedneverwrite @calraquin

[thelibranvixen]

Kara Allison, XXL Magazine Eye Candy Section (March 2011 Issue)

Folks love to hear the story, again and again, about how a wayward cutie received her first big break. For Kara Allison, her road to being an Eye Candy was par for the course. "I never thought I could be a model, because of my height and my body," says the Miami native, who, one month after graduating high school (class of 2008!), accompanied her BFF to a casting for Lil Wayne and Bobby Valentino’s 2008 smash "Mrs. Officer". After catching the eye of video director Gil Green, Kara, who was certain her 32DD-24-39 dimensions on her 5-foot-3-inch frame weren’t model-friendly, was given a major spot in the video.

Three years and 12 vids later, the Jamaican beauty and college junior has notched several noteworthy joints, such as Rick Ross’s "Magnificent", featuring John Legend; Maino’s "All the Above" (both in 2009); and, more recently, DJ Khaled’s latest posse cut, "Welcome to My Hood", featuring Rick Ross, Plies, Lil Wayne and T-Pain; and Birdman’s "Fire Flame (Remix)", featuring Lil Wayne, which included a jaw-dropping performance involving sparklers. Not a bad résumé for someone who was just out there supporting a friend. “That casting opened my eyes and made me realize that there are all kinds of models,” Kara says. "And I can be successful at it, as well". Yes, you can.

We had a schoolgirl theme going specifically for your shoot, if you didn’t notice. I can relate to it very well. I am a college student, which goes with the schoolgirl theme. What end of the social spectrum were you at in high school? Were you the introvert, the popular girl, the prom queen…the cheerleader? I guess you can say I was pretty popular. I was in the choir, so I knew a lot of people. I always was a class clown, too, so I got along well with people. Oh yeah? Channel your inner stand-up comic and hit us with a joke. [Laughs] I don’t think I would be good at stand-up at all. I’m more of the sarcastic kind of funny. Like, a smart-ass? Yeah, but I knew pretty much everyone in high school. I did win “Most Attractive” at the prom, which was extremely flattering. Absolutely, but how does the prom’s “Most Attractive” end up twirling sparklers in Birdman’s flammable “Fire Flame (Remix)” video? [Laughs] It was very nerve-racking at first, when they were explaining to me what I would be doing, but, at the same time, very exciting. I love trying new things, and I thought it would come out dope in the end. It did. Weren’t you afraid your hair would be set ablaze, though? They had a professional come in and show me how to use it properly, and I caught on within a couple of minutes. It was actually pretty easy. I tried not to concentrate too much on the sparklers, and concentrate more on my dancing. Do you think your classmates are concentrating on your recent success with scorn? Jealousy is a bitch, you know? I’m sure they are jealous. [Laughs] —Sean A. Malcolm Photography courtesy of Sarah McColgan

[hotpocketpena]

Pop Princess

Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader

Summary - you’re a superstar. Having performed on some of the most famous and largest stages in the world, you are in your peak.

You’re a huge Star Wars fan and when you get invited to The Mandalorian Season 1 premier by an old fried, you meet an unexpected man, who you never thought would catch your eye…

Warnings - Swearing & mention of kissing.

Notes- I’ve been throwing this idea around in my head for so long, I just never knew how I’d want it to play out. Well finally I think I made it go in an ok directionnnnn, anyways enjoy😬

Also I apologise for past and future posts for BUTCHERING the beautiful Spanish language😢

———————-

Adrenalin.

A euphoric high, combined from nerves, excitement and thrill. That is how it felt for you every time you picked up the microphone & sang to hundreds, if not thousands of people.

The bass from your music blasting through the huge stadium speakers sends vibrations up and down your body as you dance to the ending of your final song of the night.

“Thank you so much Miami! You have been amazing! Goodnight!” You cheer into the bejewelled black microphone & jump down the disappearing part of the stage.

Your fans still screaming for more as you use the crawl space under the stairs and head to your dressing room to wind down.

“Amazing job tonight killer Queen!”

“Best show of the tour so far!”

“You never fail to amaze us!”

The crew shout as you walk past them. You smile at everyone as you walk into your dressing room, your manager following closely behind.

“Uh, Ben. Can I have just ten minutes to myself before we talk?” You ask, throwing yourself on one of the couches in your dressing room.

Ben, your tour manager of four years sits on the armchair across from you. “I’ll just be brief.” He says.

But it’s never brief.

You roll your eyes and rest your head on the top of the couch, ready to heard whatever Ben has to say about the show. He always has some input on how you can be more energetic or more enthusiastic on stage. And you always tell him the same thing.

“Now that show was brilliant, don’t get me wrong.” His thick British accent makes it really hard to be annoyed with what he says. “But I think you could just be-“

“More energetic sweetheart. You are amazing already but the show needs more sparkle!” you mock him, with a terrible attempt at his accent.

He opens his mouth to speak but closes is quickly. “I do not sound like that.” He whines.

“Well no. But, you do say that to me after every show. And I always give my all when I’m out there.” You say.

He sits in the back of his chair and crosses his arms. “Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like the fans need more. Maybe more fireworks or more dancers or-“

“Ben.” You sternly say his name, knowing where this is going.

“I love you, but you need to get out of my dressing room.” You say as sweetly as possible.

“Fine! If you don’t want to hear about my amazing ideas, then I’ll go and tell them to someone how appreciated them!” He taunts, standing from the chair and swaying his hips to the door.

“I hear Danny from sound looooves your ideas! Go tell him!” You shout, silently thanking the heavens that he’s leaving.

Ben leaves you at peace, and you settle back into the couch, kicking your feet up on the coffee table.

Just as you’re about to sigh, there’s a knock at the door.

“God damn it! Can’t a girl just have five minutes of peace after doing a very long two hour work out while also singing!” You groan, hoping the person behind the door can hear you and will take it as a hint to leave.

“I guess I’ll just leave you to it then princesa del pop.” A beautiful, husky voice shouts from the other side of the door.

It’s a voice you’ve been waiting to hear for 10 days. And you’ve been itching to see the beautiful face behind it.

You jump from the couch, using the last bit of your energy and make a b-line for the door.

“Pedro!” You scream, jumping into his arms. You wrap your legs around his hips and he grips onto the bottom of your thighs.

“Hello baby. Have you missed me?” He chuckles speaking into your hair.

You give him a big squeeze and jump down from his embrace. Your lips crash against his in a hungry but loving kiss.

Your lips move together in sync, releasing all the built up tension of not being able to kiss his sweet lips for so long.

When you break from the kiss, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and takes your chin between his thumb and index finger.

“I only managed to catch the last forty minutes but you were amazing tonight my little superstar.” He says sweetly, his voice like honey.

“I didn’t think you’d be able to make it!”

“Well I had to sneak away from set and get one of the assistants to lie for me to make it, but I’m here.” Pedro plants a quick kiss to your lips.

He takes your hand into his and you both walk into your dressing room. You notice he’s not in his usual casual attire. He has makeup still on from filming and his hair is all messily done.

“Did you-did you literally take of from the Mando set and rush here for me?” You ask with a serious tone.

“I would have been here sooner, but the fuckers make me take the suit off the second the cameras are off and we’re done filming. Normally I head over to wardrobe to take off all the under garments that go under the suit, but I escaped before they could catch me.” He chuckles, dressed in an all black mesh outfit.

You gasp at him. “Yeah because last time you came to one of my shows in the whole fucking suit. And got so drunk that you drank beer out of the helmet. And then threw up in it once you drank all of the beer.” You laughed, sitting next to him on the couch. He pats his knee for you to put your legs up and you do with gratitude.

“And you know that it’s against the Creed that you should never take your helmet off in front of a living being.” You smirk, knowing he hates how much you love the show.

He tuts and rolls his eyes. “My god you need to get a life.”

You chuckled. “The way of the Mandalorian is my life.”

Pedro pondered for a second. “Hang on, we started dating after the premier of the first season of the show right?” He asked, his brows raised while he ran his hand up and down your leg.

“Yeah, why’d you ask?”

“And we’d never met before the premier?”

You had a feeling you knew where this was going.

“Uhhh,” you stuttered. “Yeah I think so.”

“Now correct me if I’m wrong, but before the premiere of the show, I’m pretty sure you didn’t know who I was. And I obviously knew who you were. I’m sure I went to say hi to you, but you just smiled awkwardly and walked away. But right after the showing, I swear you were all over me like a fly on shit.” Pedro’s voice was inquisitive.

He was right.

You got invited to the premier as John knew how much you love Star Wars, and Boba Fett was your favourite character. So when the opportunity to go to The Mandalorian premier, you squealed and cried.

—————

The day of the premiere you were so excited. Taking inspiration from the Mando armour, your designer created the most beautiful 2 piece suit in the colour of the armour.

You knew of Pedro before the premier, having seen a few of his movies, but you’d never met him. On the red carpet, you two did have an awkward encounter. Pedro was the star of the show before you showed up.

As soon as you walked on the carpet, all the cameras and eyes were on you. You’d said that you didn’t want all eyes on you or to take shine away from the amazing people who had worked on the show, so you took a few photos and headed inside where you could mingle with a few people.

Just before the showing, Pedro walked over to you, a clear attraction from his side, having watched you perform at events for many years, he took a serious liking to you.

You thought he was cute, but because you didn’t know him, you just thought of him as a cute guy. He walked over and said hi to you. You gave him a sweet but awkward smile and excused yourself to head to the bathroom.

The show had started and boy was it amazing. As soon as it ended, John and Pedro stood from their seats, giving small nods while looking around at everyone cheering them on.

Pedro looked over to you and gave you a wink. You felt your heart stop and your palms began to sweat.

Is this what love at second sight looks like? You thought taking him all in.

Once everyone had disappeared from the theatre and headed into the bar area, you were on the hunt for him. Wanting to continue the ‘what could have been’ conversation. If only you had taken a few seconds to speak with him before, this would be a lot less awkward.

You take a deep breath in and begin your strut towards him. Luckily, he’s with John, so if things go awkward, you can lean on him to get you out of a sticky situation.

“Hey! Look who it is! We were just talking about you!” John cheers, holding his glass of brown liquid towards you to join him.

Pedro quickly spins to face you and his face turns a blush red. He clears his throat and wipes his sweaty palms on the back of his pants, hoping that it’s not too obvious that he’s nervous.

“Who knew you had such talent in that big ol’ head of yours!” You joke, pulling John in for a hug. He hugs you back, squeezing you just a little too tight.

You let out a joking ouch and break from the hug. You turn your attention to Pedro and butterflies erupt in your stomach. He’s beautiful.

You both look into each others eyes and not a word is spoken. It’s like everyone in the room has just disappeared and only you two remain. You could stay looking into his beautiful chocolate eyes forever.

“Now I want you to meet the star of the show.” John snaps you out of your trance. He moves around the small circle table and throws his arm over Pedro’s shoulder.

“This is Pedro, our very own Din Djarin. The man behind the mask.” John beams, being very proud of Pedro.

“And this lovely lady is-“

Before John could finish, Pedro interrupts.

“We’ve met before.”

You let out a shy laugh averting your eyes from him. He doesn’t take his eyes off you and a smile beams across his face at your laugh.

“I’ve been to a few of her shows actually, she’s brilliant.” He says with adoration.

He’d been to more than a few. At first, Sarah invited him to go, as she also really enjoys your music. He didn’t think anything of it first, but once you got on stage, he was hooked.

Pedro had been to about 20 of your shows over the years, sometimes even going alone just because he wanted to enjoy the shows you put on and admire you from afar. When he found out you were coming tonight, he wanted to shoot his shot.

Usually when celebrities come to your shows, you invite them backstage and hang out with them for a few drinks, discussing the show and other things. Pedro never made himself known, he’d been too nervous to go backstage.

You blushed at his comment. He’d been to a few of your shows? He’s never been backstage? You thought, wondering why he never took the invite, but you brush the thought off.

John rambles on about how the promotion for the show has been going and gets called away by someone, leaving you and Pedro alone at the table.

“So, how did you find the first episode?” He asks, shuffling on his feet.

“It was truly a masterpiece. You were amazing!” You express, trying to keep it cool.

He blushes, taking a step closer to you. “Thank you. It means a lot coming from you. The way you perform on stage is a work of art.”

Wow, your heart flutters

You engage with him in some casual conversation and head to the bar together to grab another drink. You both hit it off.

“So, uh, what are you doing in three days time?” Pedro ask taking a sip from his glass of whiskey.

“I’m performing at the Oscar’s.” You say. “Why’d you ask?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to grab a drink after? I’ve been invited to the Vanity Fair after party, but I can ditch that if you’re free?” He says, the whiskey giving him the courage he needs to ask you out.

“I was going to head to the Vogue after party but, I’d like to have a drink with you.” You blush, your wine helping you in this situation massively.

—————

“Now that I’m actually thinking about it…Did you only come over to me and John because you liked me as Din?!” Pedro gasps, pinching your legs.

You yelp and laugh. “Nooooo, of course not!” You lie. You never wanted to admit to him, but it was true. There was just something about him being the man behind the Baskar that turned you on.

“Oh my god it’s true!” He laughs, quickly standing from the couch.

He stands in front of you with a shocked face and hands on his hips.

“If I never took the job, you never would have gone for that drink with me would you? And you’d be shacked up with someone else who’d be playing Mano!” Pedro tuts, but his tone is jokey, wanting to get a rise out of you.

“Baby, come on. Please don’t make me say it.” You groan, throwing your head back on the couch.

“Say it.” He demands, kneeling down in front of you, placing his hands on your knees to balance himself.

“Fine! I felt more attracted to you as Mando. There!” You admit to defeat, wanting this conversation to be over and done with.

“But! The more I got to know you, the more I loved the man behind the mask. And I do! I love you more and more everyday, so it shouldn’t matter how I became attracted to you in the first place.”

Pedro laughs, patting your knees and playing a kiss on your forehead.

“And I love you princesa del pop. Even if you are a Star Wars loving freak.” He chuckles

“Your Star Wars loving freak.” You say, rolling your eyes at him.”

“Yes, yes you are.” He smiles at you lovingly.

———————-

[savagewildnerness]

Lestat at the start of The Tale of the Body Thief:

Hi! I’m The Vampire Lestat! I’m 6ft tall & VERY attractive! Miami’s pretty great! Apart from all vampires can’t stand each other so we’re all solitary now! I love that though! (Even though I am in love with all vampires. I wonder where my beautiful mother, who is also my child is?)

I love killing the evildoer!!!… Can I be good if I save just one human who would have been murdered from death….? I don’t think so (but I’d appreciate it if you thought so!)

Wait… this murderer I’ve been following is utterly insane & unaware he’s even a murderer… I won’t even get to drink all his delicious murdery thoughts… how very disappointing… AND he’s not even beautiful! He’s ugly & dirty & mad…. but that old lady he was going to kill… she is so wonderful: her incredible life & self & the skeleton leaf of her younger self that she remains as now. Why, we even have the same taste in novels! I guess I’ll kill the murderer. SIGH. That was unsatisfying….

…Whoops I killed the lady too. In a very sexy way though! I’m so awful! (It was so Romantic!) I’m hungry for MORE!

Why is this weird person who’s followed me round the world giving me a story? Probably just some mad mortal & it means nothing.

Oh look, there’s David Talbot! I think I might have ruined his life, but I’ll just follow him everywhere anyway. I do worry about him.

I’d write a book about Rembrandt & The Devil if I was mortal. Here’s my plot summary… maybe that writer - Anne Rice could write it for me….? Obviously, since I’m a vampire, *I* can only write about MYSELF!!!

Gosh! I wish Claudia would stop haunting me. I can’t talk about it really, but I wish Akasha hadn’t turned me into a cipher to the terror of masculinity & made me a massacring evil Angel from which I can never absolve myself. And worse… I enjoyed it. It was sexy too. Why did I (sexily) kill that old lady? I THINK IT IS TIME TO SHUFFLE OFF THIS (IM)MORTAL COIL!!!

Well, I know I said I’d ruined David’s life, but I think I’ll just nip in for a visit & tell him he’s got less than a year to live & that I’m suicidal & am off to kill myself immediately…. But I’ll check a few hundred times if he’d like to be a vampire too! Just to torture him some more. David’s so funny! Why on Earth is he reading Faust & the bible!!!?! Bonkers!! Mmmmm… David is so beautiful & sexy too. But yes. I am ready to DIE.

I don’t know if I can kill myself, but I AM THE VAMPIRE LESTAT, so OF COURSE I’ll make like Icarus himself & fly directly into the sun! I’ll eat the sun if I can! I MUST MAKE SURE I AM TOTALLY NAKED BEFORE I FLY TO MY DEATH! Did you hear me? I’m taking my clothes OFF!!! I’m flying to the sun NAKED! I’ve done it! I have no clothes on at all! Are you sure you’re not thinking about how sad it is that I want to die & you’re definitely thinking about how naked I am instead?

I’m not in any way thinking about how I might only get a sun tan from this & I don’t want it to be uneven. I am SUICIDAL! I’m suicidal AND naked! I do sometimes lie to myself. But I wouldn’t lie to you. So let’s just say it’s one & the same to me - if I am blotted from existence or if I just get a marvellous tan. OK THEN! You’re absolutely certain you’re thinking about how naked I am?! Let’s go!

Oh no! I’m not dead, but this hurts a lot. I wish I was dead… I don’t think the sun can kill me…. But let’s give it one more go….

Omg… I gave it two whole days & this hurts a lot & it might take a year to kill me. I think I’ll just stay alive after all. I’ll just go lie naked on David’s tiger rug for 3 days as I contemplate my existence some more (he killed that tiger, you know!) I’m sure this won’t traumatise him any further & that it has zero psychological implications.

3 days later! I *suppose* I’d better put some clothes on now.

Woohoo! I’m glad I’m not dead actually. OMG I have such a FABULOUS sun tan! I have never looked more exquisitely beautiful! Thank GOODNESS I had the prescience to attempt suicide NAKED in order that I’ve made total use of this effect! Look at my iridescent eyes! Yippee! I’m so excited I could do a tap dance! I can’t believe I wanted to die so very deeply & now I’m filled with delight about how pretty I am! I think I’ll try to kill myself more often! Next time I’ll make sure that as I feel the sun like the fire of Hell upon my skin, I do a little twirl, just to make sure the tan is that much more even!

…

[biffhofosho]

A Shot Through the Heart

Fandom: Monsta X

Genre: Smut, natch.

Word Count: 17k (yeah, you read that right >.>)

Pairing: Hyungwon x OC

Trope: Anonymous sex, strangers to lovers

Synopsis: “You can’t catch feelings sucking tequila out of a stranger's bellybutton.”

The Vibe: Hopeless romantic OC meets shameless Miami Beach party, sweet and sincere Chae Hyungwon (who’s also a bit of a pathetic loser sometimes, and I love that about him, so that’s here also), probably cringey meet-cute, definitely cringey rom-com title because obvious cheesy rom-com overtones, well-meaning friends who actually have no clue what they’re talking about, body shots, stepping out of one’s comfort zone, instant chemistry, trying (and failing) to keep things casual, unprotected (not-so) anonymous sex (thank you, dramatic irony), far too romantic for what it’s supposed to be, the usual unrealistic rom-com expectations, cute ending because the author is also a hopeless romantic

A/N: Continuing the Wonnie love agenda since no one else wants to do it for me. This was most definitely for me because I’m hyper-obsessive about Hyungwon’s every charming feature and the Unseen promotion as a whole, but I hope you enjoy it, too.

You are here for fun.

As Gwen danced from foot to foot in the raucous line, she repeated the words over and over.

You are here for fun.

With searing clarity, she could hear her roommate Marie as though they were still in the car on their long drive down from New Jersey.

“It’s Miami, okay? You’re not going for a relationship. You are here for fun. Grind up against random hot guys. Make out with a stranger. I love you, but be a little fucking unpredictable for a change. Whatever, just no crushes because, I swear to god, if you even say to me, ‘He’s really sweet, Marie! I could see myself going out with him!’, I will throw up. And if the words ‘boyfriend material’ come out of your mouth, then so help me,I’m leaving your ass in Florida.”

You are here for fun.

She couldn’t even fault her friend for the rant. Gwen formed attachments, real and imagined. Hell, she was about to celebrate her 11th anniversary of fake marriage to Dylan O’Brien even though she hadn’t watched anything with him in it in years. Almost every man she’d ever gone on a date with had been followed with a relationship that left a crater of ruinous magnitude. It drove perennial bachelorette Marie crazy considering she was always the one left behind to rip the empty cookie dough tub from her roommate’s death grip and hazmat the ground zero of all the balled-up tissues.

After the latest of Gwen’s embarrassingly short-lived “sure-thing” relationships blew up spectacularly in her face, her friend had taken her under her wing and planned to show her once and for all “how to put distance between your heart and your lady parts.”

“Let’s have a little fun at men’s expense,” Marie had proposed when she’d flaunted the extravagant hotel deal she’d scored in Gwen’s face.

Now a month later, and here they were, three nights in at a palatial hotel on Miami Beach with a pulsing club in its heart and a raucous party that trickled out onto its grand pool concourse.

Their deal had been a simple one. In exchange for saying “yes” to three bullet points on her roommate’s “good time list,” Marie would pay for the hotel rooms for their bachelorette weekend. The only other stipulation on top of that was absolutely, positively no relationships.

So far, Gwen had passed with flying colors. She’d let a man buy her a drink at the hotel bar, and she’d danced with a few strangers, all without a hint of attachment. The guys were an eclectic mix of hot that had Marie rubbing her hands together and muttering “Taste the rainbow” on ludicrous repeat, but that’s all they were—eye candy. Gwen could compartmentalize that. Her friend’s plan was working. She’d felt beautiful. She’d felt powerful. She’d felt in control of her heart for once. She was ready to conquer one last, more challenging bullet point.

“You’re young, you’re hot, but you’re too damn romantic,” Marie had scolded as she’d helped her friend accessorize before heading down for the night. “Tonight, remember your mantra. You’re here to have fun. You’re not going to invent a backstory for everyone you meet. It’s okay to be a little superficial sometimes.”

“I’m doing pretty good, aren’t I?”

“Killing it, in fact,” the spicy brunette agreed.

“Damnit, I’m still so nervous every time though,” Gwen admitted as Marie had smoothed out her friend’s blonde beachy waves.

“Yeah, I know, babe, which is why I keep urging you to dip your toe instead of deep-ending everything. Contrary to what your Nora Ephron-mutated heart tells you, ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the guys you meet aren’t marriage material for Gwen Goodwin.”

“What about the one who is?”

Marie bent down and kissed her friend’s cheek. “I don’t know, but I promise you this. You didn’t meet him last night, and you’re not going to meet him tonight.”

So it had all led up to this bullet point—a ridiculous line for body shots poolside.

“Come on, you picked the best one on the list! It’s harmless,” Marie had laughed as she escorted her friend into the line. “You can’t catch feelings sucking tequila out of a stranger's bellybutton. Now, I'm going to go hit on that guy over there, and, god willing, have his beautiful, obscene mouth on mine for a bit, and you’re going to spin the roulette wheel of hot and put your beautiful, obscene mouth on someone’s sexy stomach. No regrets?”

“No regrets,” Gwen agreed.

“I’ll have my eye on you, babe. If you need me, text me,” she said as she flashed her smartwatch at Gwen.

“Will do.”

“Have fun! Love you!”

“Good luck!”

Gwen watched as Marie zig-zagged through several clusters of partygoers until she reached her target, a rather burly guy with stupendous shoulders accentuated by a compression tee. Gwen couldn’t see the guy’s face, but she could see her friend’s, and it was lit up with a smile the likes of which she had never seen from the girl. She kept her fingers crossed that things would pan out as her friend hoped.

Meanwhile, Gwen turned back to her line where the shot-takers waited alongside the line of human shot glasses. She was at least twenty people back from the table, so there was no way to know with whom she might be paired. There were just as many women in the shot glass line as there were men, all of them attractive at unprecedented levels. She was grateful she was in the line she’d chosen because she didn’t think she could survive someone of their sexiness putting their mouths on her stomach.

That’s when her eyes fell on him, the shot glass with the round face and flushed lips. He was tall and slender, dressed unassumingly for someone in his decidedly sexier line. He wore a plain black tee and a pair of slim fit jeans on legs that seemed double the length of the rest of him. Other than a few silver rings on his spindly fingers, his only accessory was a pair of now-pointless sunglasses sitting on top of his fluffy dark hair. There was nothing flashy about the guy, yet she somehow wished she had a pair of her own sunglasses just to look at him.

His toned arms were stacked loosely over a wide chest that pulled the tee at his shoulders. Pretty as he was, the man didn’t talk to a soul; if he knew any of the people around him, he didn’t let on. Instead, those big, inquisitive eyes busied themselves scanning the party like a prairie dog.

He looked at her suddenly then, and the weight of his attention made Gwen’s ankle give out in her stupid high heels. She wobbled back with a yelp, but, luckily, the girl behind her caught her elbow and helped her regain her balance.

“You all right?” the girl asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Gwen mumbled along with an apology and her thanks.

“Walk much?” said some generic bro a few people back in line, and it felt like everyone at the party was looking at her.

Humiliated, Gwen risked a glance over at the shot glass, but he seemed to be the only one who had turned back, though she couldn’t help but think that a proud smile tugged at his lips.

She would give just about anything for her pajamas and a romantic comedy right about now. She contemplated slipping out of line and heading back to her room, but she’d have to clear it with Marie first because she didn’t want to just leave her friend in such a big crowd of strangers, so instead, she stayed the course with plans of making a hasty retreat right after.

As the EDM pulsed across the party deck and the palm trees shimmied overhead in the steady sea breeze, the lines dwindled quicker than she ever expected.

And of course, it was becoming abundantly clear that, short of someone passing out or running off at the last possible second, Gwen was going to be lapping tequila from the navel of the pretty boy with the prettier smile.

When there was just one couple left ahead of them, she thought about offering her spot to the nice girl behind her as a thank you. The ponytailed babe behind the pretty boy sported a crop top and a great set of abs, so technically, it would still be fun for Gwen without the creeping dread, but before she could ask the girl behind her to switch places, she heard the call from the bottle girl.

“Next!”

With a lump in her throat, Gwen approached the table alongside the man in the black shirt. He nodded to the girl behind the table and then to Gwen.

“Hey.”

“H-hey,” she said.

The bottle girl continued all business as she had that night, though she did offer the man a smile she did not offer Gwen.

While she paid for her shot, he climbed onto the bar counter easily and shimmied himself into the most comfortable position the hardwood would allow.

Everyone waited for the hem of his shirt to reveal his stomach, but it didn’t. Instead, he looked to Gwen.

“You want it, you have to do it,” he said with a toothy grin as his eyes flicked to his clothed torso.

Gwen glared at his stomach and then at his face. “Excuse me?”

He laughed and waved in surrender. “I’m kidding, just kidding!”

But it was now patently clear he knew he’d been the reason she’d stumbled, and she wasn’t going to let him halt her momentum.

You are here for fun.

Finally, the attendant grew too annoyed to keep her mouth shut and griped, “If you’re not going to take the shot, I have to—”

“Okay, okay, I’m doing it,” Gwen insisted, though she’d meant it more for her shot glass than her bartender.

With a glower at the long man stretched out before her, she pushed his shoulder back so he flattened out on the table, the grin still playing at his luscious lips finally disappearing with her determination. Her fingers curled around the hem of the t-shirt resting far too near the apex of his thighs, and, slowly, she pushed it up his abdomen. She could have just yanked it up, but she wanted to punish him for his teasing as much as she wanted to savor the reveal, so she let her palm drag across the yielding skin of his stomach.

A swath of flawless flesh appeared beneath her, tensing instinctively along the path her hand had set. Like the rest of his features, it was soft and inviting. He didn’t have washboard abs like many of the men who’d showcased on the table already; instead, she found a narrow waist flaring broader and broader the higher she pushed the shirt up his chest. His freshly tanned skin featured the gentlest dips and smoothest waves of skin she’d ever seen. His navel was delicate, cute even, though she’d never considered a bellybutton particularly cute before. All of it made Gwen’s throat feel far too dry.

The bottle girl didn’t even try to hide the way she chewed her own lip, but she poured a shot of crystalline liquid into the appetizing little divot anyway. Gwen’s shot glass laughed, borderline giggled, at the sensation, sending a slender river of booze cascading over his naked waistline.

“Cold,” he confessed.

“You’re up,” the bottle girl said to Gwen with a bitterness she also didn’t try to hide.

Gwen nodded and stole a quick glance at the man’s face. He’d propped his head on his hands now so he could watch the show and grinned so hard she expected his laugh to follow any second.

Her brow wrinkled. If he was going to play games with her, then she could damn well return the favor. Gwen splayed her hand at the hem of his jeans, her fingers spread between the contrast of silken flesh and harsh denim. She bent over and pressed her bottom lip into the pouch of skin at the edge of his navel and closed her top lip around it to form a seal. She sucked quickly, a little of his skin suctioning between her lips.

The man gasped, and his hand clasped reflexively to the back of her head as she drained the last of the liquor from his navel. The urge to kiss his tummy overwhelmed, but Gwen fought it off, though she couldn’t quite stand up with his hand still in her hair. Instead, she rolled her head to the side and caught his eye. The motion surprised him, and he yanked his hand back.

Gwen stood up and licked every honeyed droplet of booze from her lips. He tried to sit up, too, but distracted by the trail of her tongue, his hand slipped in an errant splash, and he fell back onto his elbows. It was her turn to savor a proud smile.

“One more?” asked Gwen hopefully.

He didn’t hesitate. “Okay, sure.”

“Another shot please,” she said to the bottle girl, thrusting out her card.

“Sure,” said the other woman with a well-practiced smile. “See you shortly.”

“What?”

“You can buy another shot, but you’ve got to hop back in line.”

“But we’re already here?” Gwen noted with a poignant look at the man’s exposed stomach.

“Not how it works, sweetie. See you in a bit. Next!”

With a resigned sigh, Gwen rejoined the crowd. There was only a slim hope of being paired up with the same guy again, but not knowing what else to do, she followed the snaking line to the end only to notice the man was nowhere to be found.

Gwen looked for Marie, but the crowd had swelled as the night had worn on, and she couldn't find her friend anywhere. No doubt, the girl was twirling in some random hot guy’s arms somewhere in the thicket of dancers at the other end of the concourse, but Gwen didn’t really feel like braving all those sweaty bodies.

You are here for fun.

It had been fun, she realized, but it was so short-lived that now that it was over, she also realized how little fun the rest of the night had been in comparison. Rather than spoil Marie’s good time, too, Gwen made her way to a poolside recliner and sat down to people-watch.

There were hundreds of beautiful people here, not that that was a surprise; short of some place like Los Angeles, she wasn’t sure where there was a more concentrated percentage of objective hotness. Everyone rocked a beach-ready body, many still clad in their actual swimsuits, and thanks to the tropical air, they all smelled of a perfume of sunscreen, booze, and sweat. Laughter and cheers crescendoed around her as drinks were downed and the music pumped up. Tiny asses nestled in gyrating groins as limbs snaked up and down strangers’ bodies.

But as much as there was to see, the truth was the one person Gwen wanted to watch was gone.

Another ten minutes or so had passed with her eyes firmly fixed on the body shot lines, but her shot glass never reappeared, and she found herself so painfully far from the “fun” she was supposed to be having that when a new guy sat down beside her and started to chat, she decided to invent a new backstory of her own considering Marie had banned her from inventing them for bachelors she’d met.

“I only found out mid-way through the pregnancy that my cousin was having my fiancé’s baby. So I said ‘screw them all,’ packed my shit, and drove straight down here to start having some of my own fun for once,” proclaimed Gwen with a whip and toss of her hair over her shoulder.

“Heavy,” said the bearded man with a smug, approving nod next to her, and she snickered to herself at the anticipatory predatory flash in his eyes.

But her fun at the stranger’s expense was also short-lived when she heard over her shoulder, “That’s some story.”

Gwen swiveled on her chaise to find the lithe stranger from the body shot line holding a mostly empty bottle of tequila with a spout already stuffed in its neck.

“Oh, hey,” she fumbled. “You’re still here.”

“I am.”

An awkward silenced stretched between them as she scrambled to figure out which version of herself she was supposed to be presenting.

Miraculously, the bearded man saved her at the last second. “Is this your friend?”

“Best friend actually,” said her former shot glass, “here to make sure she has all the fun she wants.”

Knowing his window had closed, the bearded man nodded and faded back into the crowd without so much as a wave goodbye, not that Gwen had room to spare another second for him now that pretty boy had returned.

“Was any of that story true?” her handsome stranger asked.

Gwen shrugged. “The having fun part is true enough. The rest might have been part of said fun.”

He smiled gently, his cheeks two kissable meringues as he added, “Sorry about before.”

“For what?”

His eyes cast down her leggings to her feet. “Is your ankle okay?”

“Oh.” Gwen wrinkled her nose and protested weakly, “Hey, that wasn’t you, you know.”

“No, of course not.”

“It was these stupid heels. I’m more of a sandals girl. I’m just not used to wearing them.”

He nodded though he was clearly suppressing a laugh. “I see. So I’m off the hook?”

Gwen cocked her head in mock consideration as she eyed the bottle in his silver-clad hand. “That depends. How are you going to make up for exposing a very tragic girl after she thought she’d gotten away with it?”

One of those rings clanked emphatically against the glass, ringing even above the club music. “What about offering a second shot like you wanted?”

He waggled the bottle for effect, the liquid inside splintering the pulsing lights.

Gwen squinted at him. “How did you…?”

He brought his finger to his lips and bent down to her ear. Thanks to the blaring music, even this close, he nearly had to shout, “I stole it.”

“What a rebel.”

“Yeah, well, I’m really motivated.”

“Uh, okay, sure. I guess that’s fair.”

“Good, because I’m all about fair. Come on. I’ll find us somewhere where you can take it.”

The innuendo simmered between them until Gwen’s thirst had expanded beyond the restraints of mere drink.

“There’s a lounger right here?” she suggested as she looked at the chaise, but he shook his head.

“That would draw to much attention. I’m a rebel and thief now, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. How could I forget?”

“Maybe we can head out to the beach, or,” the stranger hedged slowly, “I have a room upstairs if you want?”

His tone was matter-of-fact, considerate even, yet sin infused his bottomless brown eyes. It was a proposition Gwen had never considered. She was a fall-in-love not a fall-in-bed kind of girl.

But.

She was not going to fall in love on this trip, and she had never seen a man who looked like this one.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she pretended to mull it over and shrugged a shoulder to sell the act, though there had only ever been one possible outcome the moment her eyes had met his.

“Maybe it’s better if we go upstairs… I mean, we don’t want them to lock you up and throw away the key.”

“I appreciate that,” he said with a smile that left little doubt how well he understood everything.

“Let me just make sure my friend is okay with it.”

He nodded, unfazed. “I’ll do the same.”

Both of them pulled out their phones, and Gwen sent a quick message to Marie.

When Gwen put away her phone, she found the man waiting with an expectant, squishy grin on his face.

“Is your friend all good?” he asked.

“All good. What about yours?”

He motioned through the crowd back toward the hotel, and as they walked, he said, “They’re all good. Turns out they all knew already. The friend who helped me distract the bartender told the rest of them anyway, which I should have figured, I guess.”

Gwen perked an eyebrow. “They knew when I didn’t, huh? You’re not just a rebel, but a cocky rebel.”

Her companion laughed and rubbed the back of his head in his chagrin. “Maybe I’m just more of a hopeful rebel. Or a lucky one seeing as I almost lost my chance.”

She laughed now, too. “Who? That guy? No way. I think I was just amusing myself since I was bored.”

“Bored? Here, I half-expected I’d find you back in the body shot line.”

“Well, I whole-hoped I’d find you back in it, too, but since you weren’t there, that poor guy had to hear a story I’m pretty sure I stole from a soap opera.”

Her companion smirked. “I guess that makes you a rebel and a thief, too.”

“I guess so.”

They chatted easily across the busy pool deck and all through the lobby, but the second the elevator doors closed them in alone together, the conversation clotted up. It was a long and mortifyingly unbroken trip to the twenty-second floor, and the only sounds were the shush-shush of the elevator and the dull thunk of the bottle as he tapped it against his thigh.

Suddenly, he cleared his throat. “Uh, kind of embarrassed to admit this, but it occurs to me I don’t know your name. I’m—”

“You know, let’s keep it that way for now, okay?” Gwen interrupted with a tight smile.

“Huh? Oh, sure, sure…” he agreed though he couldn’t have looked more floored.

“It's nothing personal. Actually, that’s sort of the point. I have a tendency to get carried away. It’s a long, boring story, ha. And a lot less colorful than my made-up ones.”

“I'm a good listener.”

“Yeah,” she said solemnly, “I can tell that about you. Which is definitely why I need to keep things firmly in the here and now.”

“Live in the moment, I can get behind that.”

“Cool.” Gwen turned hesitantly to him just as the doors to the elevator split wide. “So, is that okay with you? Because if it’s not, we’ll just toast to this super awkward elevator ride.”

The man motioned for her to go ahead of him into the hallway before he added, “I’m not the kind of guy to turn back.”

I can tell that, too… she thought resignedly.

He led Gwen down the chic hallway to his room, where she stopped short and pulled out her phone.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Just letting my friend know where I am.”

“That's smart,” he said with a nod. “I’m on notice now, huh?”

“You got that right, buddy.”

They shared a laugh, and again, Gwen was struck by how brightly the man’s face glowed and how engaging his laugh was. Another thought popped into her head just then.

“Speaking of...” she started as she raised her camera. “Smile?”

Without a trace of surprise or curiosity, he did, and it was so blinding, it threw off the exposure in her phone, which gave Gwen the perfect excuse to snap a few more.

“How did my mugshot come out?” he asked and craned his neck to steal a peek.

“You’re a matter of public record now, sir. But I imagine it will be the first mugshot to grace the cover of Vogue.”

“Nice.”

She stashed her phone without hitting send, with a small grin for her white lie. For some reason, Gwen couldn't bring herself to share him. But he didn't need to know that.

Meanwhile, the man fished his key card out of his too-tight jean pocket and ushered her inside. He took off his shoes as soon as he walked in, much to her relief, since it meant she could finally get out of her damn heels. When she looked back up, she was at a loss.

“Shit…”

His head whipped toward her, eyebrows pinched with concern. “Everything okay?”

“I mean… Your room is so much nicer than mine.”

He clutched his heart in mock relief before he said, “What’s your room like?”

“Not like this. Small and bayside. You have a balcony!”

“Oh, uh, yeah. It’s my friend’s bachelor party this weekend, so we all kind of went all out, I guess. You want to go out?”

“Hell yeah, I do!” Gwen squealed. She made a bee line past the enormous bed and whisked open the door.

The wind was stiffer twenty-two floors up, and it bombarded her skin, fresh and salty and a little sticky but uplifting. She breathed in deeply, a smile splitting her face. The half-moon shimmied across the Atlantic swells in time with the electronic beats filtering up from the party at the pool below. She couldn’t help herself—she waved at the partygoers even though they were far too small to see much this high up.

“Aw,” her companion said sweetly. “Waving to your friend?”

“Yeah,” replied Gwen with a blush. “Not that she’ll see me.”

He joined her in leaning on the railing and waving at his friends, too. When he looked back up, his smile shifted slightly, less silly and a lot sultrier. She cleared her throat lightly and headed back inside.

With her back to the huge bay windows, Gwen could finally take in the rest of the room. It was modern and cloaked in the same jeweled beach tones of her own, but it was much more spacious, with a desk and a sofa plus a pair of chairs, while, to the left behind a half-wall, the enormous bed stretched out beneath a large padded headboard.

With a tiny yelp, her companion scrambled over in a hurry to straighten the still-crumpled covers and even out the pillows.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he worked, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“It’s fine. It’s not like I make my bed on vacation. Or ever really.”

Gwen meant it, but that didn’t mean she could shake the undeniably sexy implication of those tossed sheet or the image of this beautiful man stretched out naked and languid in them.

Still, he dressed the bed as quickly as he could and turned around with a flushed face. Again, he mumbled, “Sorry.”

“No worries. Hey, do you care if I use your bathroom?”

“Sure, it’s right around there,” he replied, gesturing toward the other side of the bed.

It was really just an excuse to see how much fancier it was than her own, and it did not disappoint. Instead of just a shower stall, there was a huge walk-in surrounded by glass, and instantly, images of fogged windows with desperate hand smears flitted across her mind. Just around the corner was a deep jacuzzi tub that conjured just as many filthy thoughts.

This was progress, Gwen thought. Her libido was on overdrive, which meant she could safely put her heart in the backseat. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her waves had regrettably frizzed, and she’d sweated out a fair bit of makeup, but it did make her skin glow, even under the harsh LED lighting. After a quick freshen-up and a primp to make her chest is best perky self, she returned to find the man waiting in front of the main window, adjusting the tuck of his tee in his tiny waistline.

There was just something about him—his every gesture was sweet and sincere, completely without artifice. And just like that, her heart was threatening a comeback.

You are here for fun.

Gwen shuffled in with a short wave. “I think your bathroom might be as big as my hotel room.”

He grinned. “I think it’s bigger than my apartment honestly.”

“You mean you don’t live like a high roller every day?”

“Actually, I moonlight as a broke New Yorker.”

Oh shit, he’s not far from you, Gwennie…

“You’re ruining my fantasy of the millionaire playboy in town for a big business deal.”

“My apologies,” he joked with a bow.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

He cocked his head, and it was painfully cute. “The what?”

“Your friend’s wedding.”

“Oh, next month.”

“And the groom’s not going to be mad that you’ve abandoned him?”

The man smirked. “On the contrary. Pretty sure he’s looking for any excuse to get rid of me.”

“You really are public enemy number one, huh?”

“Oh, yeah, undisputed.”

As they came down from their laughter, Gwen realized how close they were standing. This close, those lips loomed like a full moon, and she basked in their plumpness. The heat between them brought the intoxicating tendrils of his cologne forward, a fresh brightness that matched his smile, though it occurred to her he may have stolen a moment to reapply it while she’d been in the bathroom. The thought made her swallow hard.

“You’re easy to talk to,” he confessed abruptly, and Gwen tensed all over.

You are here for fun.

“Even though we haven’t really talked about anything?” she retorted.

He shrugged one thick shoulder. “Maybe that’s why. I’m kind of a wallflower at parties. I mean, that whole body shot thing was just a dare from my friends anyway.”

“Mine was like that, too!” she blurted and immediately regretted it, the way he seemed to soften all over. It wasn’t just how gentle his already-round features looked, but he relaxed against the desk into a cool lean as his usually petal-shaped eyes widened with interest.

No backstories, Gwennie, she scolded herself. Put that distance between your heart and your lady parts!

“So that’s how it happens, huh?” she continued in a sultrier voice as her finger stroked the neck of the bottle. “You do one dare, and now, you’re a full-blown criminal mastermind?”

His voice had dropped, too, along with his eyelids. “Looks that way.”

“Are you a liar, too?”

“No! What?”

She chuckled and waved the bottle between them. “What about my second shot?”

“Oh, you were serious?”

Gwen gaped at him. “Aren’t you the one who stole the tequila?”

“That was just so I had an excuse to talk to you again.”

Oh no… He was painfully, unforgivably, patently cute. Gwen could practically hear Marie threatening to leave her in Florida.

“Ah,” she said to deflect, “so you did lure me here with empty promises.”

“No! I—"

“I’m teasing,” she assured, and as she studied his saucer eyes, she risked resting a hand on his bicep, which she had to stop herself from just straight up groping when she felt the twitching muscle beneath.

“Sorry,” he said. “I just… I never do stuff like this.”

“Like what? We haven’t done anything.” He looked helplessly at her, and Gwen chuckled again. “Sorry, still teasing. When I'm awkward, I make awkward jokes. I've never done anything like this either.”

“Like what?” he echoed, and they shared a tight smile, but it vanished when he looked at her much softer this time. “Seriously, I don't expect anything.”

You can't catch feelings sucking tequila out of a stranger's bellybutton…

“I know, but I do.” Gwen swished the bottle back and forth, and he offered what she could only type as a giggle.

“You’re right, you’re right. So, um, how do you want to…?”

He spun in a circle until he nearly made himself dizzy, and she grabbed his shoulders to steady him.

“Maybe, um, you should just lay on the bed?” she suggested.

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. So, I’ll just…”

“Get on the bed?”

“Get on the bed, yeah,” he repeated. The man spared a quick moment to smooth his shirt over his chest and run a hand back through his thick black hair, which had the most fatal way of feathering back across his forehead in a very regrettable heart shape.

Since the moment she’d met him, the man had possessed a magnetism that had set him apart from all the other hot people at the party, but here in his room, he was borderline pathetic, tromping around like a lost giraffe between the living room and the bed as he emptied his pockets between the desk and the bedside table. When, at last, he was ready, he walked to the foot of the bed and plopped down. He looked back at Gwen with a sheepish grin and comically high eyebrows.

“Ready?” she asked as she raised the bottle.

“If you are.”

She nodded and followed into the bedroom, and the air shifted. In here, it was hotter and even more humid than down at the beach but without the benefit of a breeze.

He sat down at the edge of the bed, and Gwen crawled on the bed beside him. She strategized on how to best take her shot, and while she positioned herself, her knees pressed into the mattress as she sat up, he untucked his shirt and raised it himself.

At the party, body shots had been a game. Here, it was foreplay. Judging from the blackness in his eyes, he knew it, too. He laid back and propped up just a bit on his elbows, which cupped his stomach just the right amount into the sweetest little bowl.

“It’s different,” he murmured.

“Yeah, it is,” she whispered, too, because somehow every thing, every word, felt very loud. “I can take my time now.”

He didn’t say anything. He just waited.

Gwen lifted the bottle, and, as carefully as she could, she tipped it until a golden thread puddled at his belly. He didn’t flinch this time. Instead, he sucked in a breath which deepened the cup at his navel, and she was only too happy to fill it to its tasty brim.

“Perfect,” she said as she set the bottle on the floor. “Don’t move.”

She braced her hands on his thigh and his ribcage and bent forward. Her lips glossed the velvety skin there before she opened her mouth and sucked up the sweet, smooth liquor all too quickly. This time, though, she spared a moment to dip her tongue into the divot, and this made the man beneath her hiss.

She licked her lips and ventured a look up his heaving torso to find him totally expressionless save for his overblown pupils.

“Satisfied?” he asked in a voice swollen with the same darkness.

Gwen shook her head lightly. “Still thirsty.”

But she did not reach for the bottle. Instead, she put her lips to his stomach and sampled a new patch of skin. It yielded beneath her, and so did he. He let out a low groan that tightened the muscles under her lips.

Another kiss led to another and then one more as she nipped and nibbled at the tender flesh. There was something about the man that was simply and undeniably edible, and no matter how much she tasted, she could not get enough. Gwen helped herself all the way up to the delicious flare of his rib cage, and at the swell there, she risked a swirl of her tongue. His head snapped up as he panted out a heavy pair of breaths.

“You're driving me crazy,” he said with a slanted smile.

“I could say the same,” she agreed, and when she brought attention back to his stomach, she noticed a lonely freckle at his hip. Her lips raced to devour it, this time adding a graze of her teeth. He jolted.

“That tickles!” he exclaimed though it was followed by another groan.

Gwen responded with another twirl of her tongue to savor the salt on his skin, and the groan became an outright moan. Emboldened by each grateful sound, her hand slid slowly up his thigh, and soon, it bumped a rigid hill smothered by tight denim.

At the first graze, he jolted again but followed it with a simmering hiss as his hips bucked reflexively into her hand. His eagerness was going to Gwen’s head. She wanted more of his pretty moans. She wanted more of his pretty body.

Her hand moved more brazenly to stroke the outline of the intensifying hardness, but this time, she was the one moaning at the way his bulge filled her palm. Her forehead pressed into that gentle stomach as she rested her lips lazily at his hip bone. Meanwhile, her fingertips traveled up the zipper to the waist of his jeans and swept back and forth before her thumb centered over the button there.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

Gwen kissed his hip again before she answered, “You told me if I wanted it, I had to do it.”

“Ah, I said that, didn't I?”

“You did. And I want it.”

He sat up higher now, expectation on his face. He drew his lush bottom lip between his teeth, and that alone set Gwen’s blood aflame.

Without another thought, she placed a garland of kisses along the waist of his jeans, and when she undid the button there, her lips raced to taste the secret skin she’d exposed. Dimly, she realized she was getting too carried away on a chance encounter, but she couldn't stop.

She couldn’t stop.

The further her mouth charted down the open zipper track, the more powerful her desire grew. She smelled his cologne here, too, bright like the tropical air but deepening down to dark woods on a second, greedier inhale. And beneath all that was the smell of him.

Too hungry now, Gwen hooked her hands in his jeans and tugged down. He lifted his hips with zero hesitation, and soon enough, she had full access to all that she desired. She swept her hand over the black fabric still sheltering him and felt him lurch. She hummed.

Slowly, she peeled down the hem of his boxer briefs, and his cock sprung up gratefully. Above her, her pretty boy exhaled hard, which only grew raspier as her skin touched his rawness at last.

Gwen’s romantic heart had drawn her to a number of beds over the years, and she’d enjoyed some decent sex in that time, but even without entering her, she knew this man was special. All his skin had been babied, but here, he was silkiest, like satin over marble. One touch was enough to fuel an addiction that sent a blaring alarm of dread to the back of her mind that she might never touch another cock that felt like it was made just to please her.

She danced her fingertips down his wickedly hard length until she got to his base, where she squeezed appreciatively. He hissed and hummed and arched his back before he mumbled something low and deep that she wished she could make out because just the echo of its echo sounded devastating.

Gwen didn’t intend to take things so leisurely—she knew she shouldn’t be—but it seemed foolish to fast forward through what had to be the sexiest man she’d ever met. Her friend’s rules be damned, she was going to enjoy every second for as long as she could make it last.

He was watching her, open-mouthed, as she held him. Their eyes met. Her breath caught.

Gwen wet her lips and pressed them to his hot, red tip and let her tongue curl into the smooth channel underneath. Her beautiful stranger let out the raspiest groan as his face disappeared from her view to sag under the weight of pleasure.

Spurred on, she invited him into her mouth now, shallow at first, but a little greedier with each pass until she could take what she could of him to the back of her throat. When she was comfortable, she found the perfect rhythm to have him singing for her with every eager suck.

And he was so noisy. It wasn’t filthy words or heaps of degradation like she’d heard plenty of times before. Between his moans and the grunts and the achy sighs, Gwen realized she’d never been with a man who had appreciated her more. It was filling her up with not just pride but confidence, and it made her want to ruin him even further.

His hand came to rest on the back of her head, but she quickly plucked it aside and pressed it into the mattress. For the briefest of moments, she released him to mumble, “Stay still.”

His shaky “okay” made her chest feel swimmy, and, instead, he balled two handfuls of sheets. But the man couldn’t help himself. Though he was hanging onto the bed with white knuckles, his hips took to lifting from the mattress, and she had to force them back down, too. She knew with just a little more speed and the addition of a helpful hand, she would get him off in no time, but she was having so much fun.

It didn’t hurt that all his whining was getting her off, too, even without a single touch. Gwen couldn’t remember a time she’d been so wet or so turned on.

Again, the stranger moaned, but this time, he added with a thick rasp, “You’re incredible. You might be my dream girl.”

It was her turn to whimper, but the vibrations traveled not just through her body and straight to her throbbing clit, but they also traveled down his length in a circuit of pleasure. He sucked in a harsh breath through gritted teeth as his legs tensed and struggled in the confines of the jeans still cuffing his knees.

“Can I—” he said before another grunt cut him off. “Wait. Can I just—fuck—can we take these pants off? I want to feel more of you.”

Gwen startled. She sat up on the bed and watched, numb with anticipation, as the man practically had to peel off his skinny jeans. He worked as quickly as he could, but it afforded her a flash of an ass as cute and smooth as his stomach and legs as long and delicate as his fingers. When he sat back down at the edge of the bed, he pulled off his shirt, too.

When she came to his room, Gwen hadn’t really known what to expect. It was clear they would end up in bed, but, for some reason, she never expected them to be fully naked. Now that things had taken a much more intimate turn, the casual momentum she had built quickly siphoned away.

This time, he didn’t lay back.

Here, he sat—breathless, naked, gripping his glistening cock, and staring hopefully at her.

“I’d really like to see you, too,” he asked.

As soon as he voiced his throaty wish, a fresh torrent of lust leaked between her pressed thighs. If she had worn the minidress Marie had pitched, there would have been no hiding it.

Gwen wanted to be coy or funny or anything other than tragically eager for this man, but how could she say no to such hopeful eyes and freckled lips?

With a red face and sweaty hands, she slipped out of her shirt, leaving her in her bra and leggings. She’d been wearing the same damn burgundy lace piece for two years, but now her hands were shaking so badly that she couldn’t undo the last clasp she’d put on hundreds of times.

He smiled knowingly and leaned in to wrap his arms around her. It only took him a moment to rescue her, but in his arms, time had stopped. Skin to skin changed everything. Gwen was spiraling, and the only way to make it stop was to steer into her tailspin.

Their lips met not in a clatter, but gently and with curiosity. Even at first brush, the way his puffy top lip notched into the crease of her lips felt like habit, like it had been there many times before and should return countless more times.

His hands cupped her cheeks briefly before they slid back in tandem to tangle in her disheveled waves. Only then, as he held her fiercely, did his tongue slip into her mouth to their shared whimper. One of his hands glided from her hair, down the back of her neck and over her shoulder, fingertips dancing like raindrops with the same biting chill thanks to the metal at his knuckles. He traced the side of her breast and then its underside all while his lips meshed with hers and his tongue curled deliciously against the roof of her mouth.

Trapped in the riptide of the moment, Gwen reached for him, too. His skin was just as soft at his neck and shoulders as it was at his waist, and she couldn’t stop stroking every inch she could access. He was only too happy to encourage her touches, even going so far to redirect her hand from his ribs to his hair like he wanted her to pet him. She let out a needy sigh that his mouth immediately gobbled up.

It wasn’t a surprise that the man was an attentive kisser. What surprised Gwen was how much she felt in the kiss. He was pouring something into her even as he seemed to drink from her, and she didn’t want it to stop.

She didn’t want it to ever stop.

You are here for fun.

Marie’s voice in the back of Gwen’s head was the ice water the blonde needed to disentangle from her beautiful stranger. Because that was all he was.

A beautiful stranger.

Gwen pulled back. He blinked slowly at her, but she kissed his flushed lips briefly to soften the transition. The hand of hers he’d placed in his hair drifted down his arm to his thigh, and whatever emotion had knitted his brows a moment ago corrupted. With a gnaw of her bottom lip, she slipped off the bed to the floor. His eyes followed.

He didn’t ask Gwen to kneel between his legs, but he didn’t have to. She was getting good at telling exactly what he’d like best—far too good at it.

His thighs were much creamier than the Florida caramel that warmed the rest of him, and as she shuffled into position between them, her hands worked higher and higher up their breadth. His knees tightened at her shoulders. Now that she was shirtless, she had no defense against the zaps of electricity that came with each stolen moment of raw contact.

His cock strained between his hips, the head shiny with lust and the veins pulsing along its length. Gwen gripped his hilt and stroked a few times, and he sighed in relief.

Now that he was sitting up, their dynamic swapped. He loomed over her. Shadows darkened what had always been a bright face. His enormous hands braced at the edge of the bed, firing prominent veins along his forearms. His shoulders corded with heavy muscle previously concealed by his round edges. The planes of his stomach creased as he bent over her. He wasn’t about to neglect even a second of his front row seat.

Gwen brought her lips back to his member and picked right back up where she’d left off, only this time she was noisier. Wet slurps and hungry hums echoed up from between his legs, and with each one, he got a little louder, too.

This time when his massive hand curled around the back of her head, Gwen reveled in it. His nails scratched deliciously against her scalp as he threaded her hair through those elegant fingers and tugged mindlessly. She was grateful she’d forgotten to strip off her leggings or she would have been dripping shamelessly on the carpet.

At last, she picked up speed, so she closed her eyes and concentrated on her seal around his demanding thickness. Her lips chased her fist up and down his shaft so he was never without a moment of her full attention.

The messier she savored him, the more urgent his whines got and the more he bucked underneath her. The hand in her hair was now a fist full of a makeshift ponytail. Mouth full, she raised her eyes to his face. A swirl of her tongue around his tip was all it took to rip a cry from his hunkered chest.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he demanded and pushed her shoulders back. “Wow, okay, you have to stop. I’m going to cum.”

“That’s the idea,” Gwen replied as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

But the man shook his head. “I want to make this last, and I definitely don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You’re not.”

“Good… Good.”

A pregnant silence fell between them. Both of them considered where to direct the needle of their night next, but he was faster.

“You know, the view from up here really is something,” he said.

“Ha ha,” Gwen said drily, but the earnest look on his face knocked her sarcasm down a few pegs.

“Come up and see.”

He offered both his hands, and once she took them, he helped her up to the edge of the bed. When she was seated beside him again, he kissed her sweetly.

When he stopped, his forehead rocked against hers, and her eyes fluttered open.

“I really want to taste you,” he confessed in a whisper.

Gwen swallowed hard.

“You do?”

“Desperately.”

“It’s just—” she fumbled, painfully aware of the panic in her voice.

“You don’t want me to?”

She didn’t know how to explain herself without pitiful embarrassment. Most of the men Gwen had dated were keen for a blowjob but always had a dozen reasons to move things along right after. Over time, it had given her a heavy insecurity, which Marie had always assured her was utter bullshit, yet still it persisted. Gwen didn’t think she could recover from someone this desirable rejecting her, even if he was a total stranger.

“No, I mean, yeah, if you really want,” she blundered, “but… it’s just—”

She bit her lip, and he cocked his head patiently. His hand squeezed her knee, and the words came tumbling out of her mouth.

“I’m kind of a mess down there.”

“Yeah?” he said hopefully—to her complete and utter shock. “Come on, you can’t tease me like that. Now, I have to taste you.”

“What if— It might take me awhile,” she admitted from behind her hands.

Gently, he lowered them from her face to her lap, where he held them like a friend, though his hooded eyes and honeyed voice told a very different story.

“I hope it does.”

Gwen gasped and closed her eyes to steady herself. “What about you?”

He laughed. “This is about me.”

The best she could manage was a slow nod, but that was all the stranger needed.

He dropped to his knees on the floor and spread her legs enough to rub his huge palms up her thighs and back down again. The more he soothed her, the more her legs parted on their own so he could sit taller—and closer—between them. On the next sweep up, his hands lingered at the crest of her thighs so his thumbs could stroke over her swollen sex still imprisoned in her leggings.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“So good,” she replied as she collapsed onto the mattress and threw an arm over her eyes.

“Good. You can watch if you want, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I’d recover from something like that. You’re, like, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen as it is. That might actually ruin me for life.”

He chuckled, but it was tainted with pride. “Maybe that’s the idea.”

Gwen shot up to her elbows to argue, but that was the exact moment the man wriggled his slender fingers under her waistband and then her underwear to peel them both off. Cold air attacked her core, and though it was a relief to finally be free of her sticky prison, she was unprepared for the pad of his finger to graze over the seam of her lips. She shivered and whined.

He hummed. “You’re really feeding my ego here, sweetheart.”

His thumbs resumed the same stroke as before, but since it was over her bare lips this time, the intensity amplified exponentially. Each wave parted her folds a bit, and there was no escaping the knowledge that her arousal leaked heavily every time.

“What a pretty sight,” he murmured.

Foolishly, Gwen stole a look at the man, and the image of his keen eyes fixed on her wet cunt branded her brain just as she’d feared. She whimpered, zipping her bottom lip between her teeth to near shreds as he played with her.

She felt the first brush of his lips against her not in the careless rush of an obligation but as a leisurely kiss of a seasoned lover. There, his mouth lingered only to part for his purposeful tongue. He licked up along her seam once—twice—and on the third pass, his fingers parted her core wide. The exposure had her keening mindlessly, but when his tongue swiped through the secret skin, she cried at the top of her lungs. Her arm pressed over her eyes hard enough to create starbursts behind her lids while her other arm pressed over her mouth.

For just a moment, he pulled back. Another burst of cool air blasted her core as he hummed again, this time dreamily. “Perfect.”

He kissed the meat of her thigh once, and then drove on heedlessly. He teased her entrance for a moment before he swirled that wicked tongue around her clit with a mind-numbing rhythm. Through all of it, Gwen sank deeper into pleasure. As vocal as he had been, she managed to outdo him even with her makeshift gag. It was completely mortifying but also completely out of her control.

He didn’t try to stop her writhing or her moaning. Instead, he used them both to his advantage. Whenever she squirmed, he chased, and it made the promise of release a near certainty.

It was incredible. It was terrifying.

It shouldn’t be this easy. It had never been this easy before.

Gwen felt the blossom of his lips nibbling at her aching clit, and before she could brace herself, he’d taken her in his mouth. It wasn’t just his delicious suction that made her lungs seize but the way his tongue undulated across her eager bud.

And then he pressed a fingertip to her entrance.

Gwen’s hands flew to the sheets and dug into the mattress. Her head snapped up as she screamed, “Oh my god!”

Her eyes flew open. He was waiting.

Damn heart-shaped hair and damn heavy eyes stole what was left of her sanity right before he eased his finger inside her.

At least the unprecedented bliss gave Gwen the small mercy of forcing her flat to the bed. Her back arched, her nipples tightened, and her voice gave out. The only thing she could do was pant like some unbound creature.

His fingers were so long—world-record long, she thought drunkenly—and they explored parts of her she’d never even known were there. He didn’t race through her either, but primed her the same as she’d primed him, the devil. In only a matter of a few plunges, he knew her in ways she’d never even known herself.

In and out, in and out, he pumped that perilously long finger, each stroke sealed with a kiss of metal and knuckle. Her body hungered louder and messier, worse even than she’d promised him. Her shameless pussy dribbled like it had never been touched before, and Gwen was very, very glad she could hide in the crook of her arm.

And then he added a second finger.

The stretch was vision-whitening, the depth dizzying, but still his tongue insisted on speeding her to her ledge. Even with her face covered, she turned away because looking at him was like risking looking into the sun.

“I’m going to— I’m going to—” she stammered.

His mouth lifted then, but before Gwen could protest, he brought his other fingers to her clit. There, he kept a thorough pace just shy of what she needed. No doubt, he knew it just as she had known it with him, but with the tables turned, it felt unexpectedly cruel.

As if to contradict that, he tenderly kissed her thigh, and basic instinct drove her to look at him.

He smiled at her, and, with grit in his voice, he asked, “You going to cum for me, beautiful?”

“Yes!” cried Gwen, shuddering on his fingers. “Yes, yes, yes!”

His fingers moved faster now, across her throbbing hill as well as inside her. Pressure like she’d never felt built between her hips. It was hard to breathe. It was hard to think.

And it all happened faster than she could ever have imagined.

She unwound.

Eyes winched shut, Gwen tore at the sheets as she arched, every muscle clamped in ecstasy, before everything released and she slumped glassy-eyed onto the mattress. Somewhere below her, she heard a little refrain of happy hums and dimly felt the slick circle of a tongue collecting all that she had released.

She panted as she came down from her high, her arm flung over her face once again, feeling everything and nothing all at once. As she worked to center herself, Gwen shivered.

“That was the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” said the stranger who was once again idly massaging her thighs, this time with the most delicious domesticity. “You kind of glow when you cum.”

“Oh, shut up!” she wailed as she curled into a ball.

“What? Sorry, but I mean it. You do this cute little thing with your toes, like a kitten paw.”

Gwen heard him pantomiming something in the sheets, but she was too busy cringing into another universe, one where she’d kept at least a little of her dignity. She burrowed her head deeper into her arms to fight back how endearing she found him.

“Hey,” he said with the sincerity of concern. “You okay?”

“Mm-hm.”

“You liked it, right?”

Gwen peeked out through a small window behind her arms and found the man seated beside her on the bed. He looked down at her with eyes no longer blackened exclusively by desire but softened with care. She bit her lip and lifted her head as she held his gaze.

A beat passed before she said, “I loved it.”

“Well then, if that’s the case…” he said softly.

He leaned down and kissed her as lightly as a feather brushing skin. When he pulled back, there was the sweet temptation of darkness tinting his eyes once more.

“Will you let me inside you?”

“Why did you have to say it like that?” whimpered Gwen as she flopped back onto the mattress.

“I’m sorry,” he said though he sounded anything but. “Is this better? Please let me fuck you.”

She hissed. “You’re a terrible, terrible man.”

“Yeah, but I’ll make you feel so good, and I did ask nicely.”

“You did…” she murmured as she leaned up.

Their lips barely had time to fully enmesh because he had to help guide her up to the pillows since the only thing she could manage for the moment was a beached fish, half-hearted wiggle.

If Gwen thought she’d have a moment to recover between heated kisses, she was dead wrong. He caged her in beneath him, his heavy cock thudding unmistakably against her mound as his body flattened against hers. Her legs spread instinctively. Perhaps she should have taken the many, many hints that she would never have any control over herself with this man, but the way her body simply opened for him was more than a little pathetic.

At first, she threaded both hands in his hair, and he groaned into her mouth, but every little thing he did made her restless for more. She kept a hand fixed in his hair while the other now squeezed and groped the length of his back. Even if she couldn’t see it at the moment, his shape drove her wild. Not only did his definition heat her hotter than she’d ever felt in her life, but, fully pressed against hers, his skin was as decadent as cashmere.

His member, on the other hand, was as heavy and demanding as a stone on her mound. Every time he rutted against her, the base of his shaft brushing her engorged folds, she lost a little more of her sanity. She could probably cum again just like this, completely empty and yet feeling so fulfilled.

They passed some time in each other’s mouths without further expectation, but the weightier his cock pressed, the more impossible it was to ignore her basest needs. As he’d been able to do all night, he read her easily.

Unwilling to leave her lips, he groped blindly at the nightstand until he’d found what he was looking for and had to break their kiss. He held up a condom, his eyebrows up on his sweet, swollen-lipped face with the unasked question.

“Forget it,” Gwen said with a huff. “We’ve already crossed the line, I’m on the pill, and I really just want to feel you.”

“Oh, shit, are you—” he said, but she cupped his cheeks and kissed him hungrily.

She was being stupid, but the fuck if she cared.

Gwen whimpered with every sweep of his tongue, but those gave way to hitching cries as his long fingers trailed from her cheek down her arm to her hip where they danced in unreadable designs across her flesh. It was so playful, so charming that her heart fluttered to a totally different rhythm than it had all night. And that was dangerous. She needed to move this along at last.

You are here for fun.

Her hips jerked beneath him, tilting up in a kiss far filthier and needier than even their mouths’, and he pulled back with a ragged hiss.

“You are so wet again,” he growled with a glance down between their bodies.

“I can’t help what you’re doing to me.”

He cocked his head to the side, looking handsomer than any man really had a right. “Yeah?”

“Yes…” she sighed. “You make me so desperate.”

She drove her hips up again, her overheated sex grazing his base once more. His eyes flared, and Gwen felt the urge to cower.

Suddenly, he grabbed her arm and pushed it above her head, pinning it there by her wrist.

Dimly, the bass from the music far below drummed through the walls, but it was little more than a backing track to their tattered breath.

His stare was more commanding, more powerful even than the hot-forged iron branding her just shy of her center.

“I—”

Despite how badly Gwen yearned to hear the rest, he let whatever thought it was simmer on the heavily perfumed air enveloping them. His eyes searched her, from his ring-clad hand clasping her wrist to her sweat-studded breasts and back, at last, to her parted mouth.

He dove back down to her lips with another growl while his other hand fumbled between their bodies. After a moment, his hips lifted, and she felt the blunt head of his cock at her entrance at last.

She needed air to calm her ragged nerves, but thief that he was, he stole everything from her with another nibble of her lips. As his tongue entered her mouth again, he pushed his length inside her walls.

Gwen tore from his kiss to unleash the reediest moan of her life.

“Oh fuck,” he grunted. “Did you feel that?”

She had no idea what he meant, which made it all the more dangerous because she knew exactly what she felt.

Everything.

Why did he have to kiss her just then?

Why did he have to fill her like he was the only one who should ever do it again?

You’re idealizing, Gwennie, she scrambled to remind her sex-saturated mind, but she couldn’t convince herself to stop even if she knew she was. This was a man who was every bit as perfect as her stupid romantic self wanted to believe.

All Gwen could do was moan and grasp the back of his head.

He followed the weight of her hand and pressed his face into the juncture of her neck to kiss her reverentially.

“Go slow,” she implored.

He hummed in agreement and eased his hips back to draw his length to its limit before gliding back in as though he were savoring her. The moment he bottomed out, her mouth fell open in a silent wail. Gwen had never felt so full.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Open up for me.”

His voice penetrated as deeply as his cock and rendered her putty in his hands.

Each sweep of his hips was catastrophic, but it was even worse since his body smothered hers. It was too much and not enough all at once, and Gwen was glad she didn’t have use of her other hand or she’d have wrapped him up in her arms already.

She thought after the first few strokes that he’d pick up speed, but he seemed content to while away their night just like this. The only change to his smooth rhythm was the rough emphasis he added to his every thrust that drove the air out of her lungs each time. It was like he was trying to drive deeper and deeper and deeper inside of her.

Each penetration afforded her the sexiest view of the horizon of his body, and now that she was this far gone, she lifted her head so she wouldn't miss another moment. He moved with the grace of water, and the current threatened to drown her just as easily. The swell of his ass rose and fell over the heave of his back.

His whines and grunts came back with a vengeance, with the added mercilessness of being uttered along her skin. It was a devastating reminder that as much pleasure as she drew from him, he was just as greedy for her body, too.

“Need to fuck you harder,” he warned in a voice heavy with gravel. “I need to.”

“I want you to,” Gwen echoed.

If she thought this would be the reason he pulled back from this ridiculous intimacy, she was dead wrong. Instead, he stilled inside her as he lifted to his elbows, but it only brought his searing gaze to her. His enormous hand soared up to cup her cheek. His thumb traced her bottom lip before, at last, he planted his hand firmly on the mattress.

His first few thrusts stayed slow, but soon he gained speed and, with it, power. His hips slapped against hers, and each time, it sounded wetter and wetter, but it all should have been louder.

The difference was, now that they couldn’t tear their eyes away from one another, neither seemed capable of making a sound. It was all Gwen could do to remember to breathe.

Harder and harder, he drove into her until her tits were bouncing and each fuck pushed rhythmic, vibrating cries from her. Still, she could tell they were both holding something back from one another.

They knew the moment they ended, whatever this was had to end, too.

His luscious mouth parted. There were words there, half-formed, but those he held back, too, though she starved to know them.

The next thing Gwen knew, he released her wrist to push her knee up and back. The angle shifted, and she had no choice but to rip her eyes from his to watch as his cock disappeared inside her greedy cunt.

She let out a tattered moan before she hiccupped out, “So. Fucking. Good.”

“I want to be deeper,” he answered back.

Gwen’s eyes rolled back in her head. “You’re—ah—you’re already so deep.”

But he didn’t seem to hear her. He dropped to her chest again, his hips rutting truly desperately at last. He buried his face in her neck and his nose in her hair as his lips glanced across her skin in the unintentional kiss that came with every thrust.

“Deeper…” he murmured as though hypnotized.

“Oh my god!”

He hitched her thigh higher up his side so she could feel with devastating consequence the way his ribs flared with every frantic gulp of air.

“Wrap your leg around me,” he instructed.

Gwen dug her heel into the meat of his back, and he grunted, but it still wasn’t enough for him.

“Hold me tighter, please.”

As she’d feared, it was a mistake the moment she wrapped her arms around him. Strangers fucking didn’t embrace. Yet here she was, clinging on with the last of her sanity to his sturdy shoulder blades.

He smelled so good—like sex and summer—and it imprinted on her mind.

“So. Deep,” she stuttered.

The way he stretched her out clouded her mind until the only thing she could find through the fog was him.

How could he possess her so fully but make her so desperate for more of him?

Him.

“Give me your hand,” he demanded in a rush.

Gwen let one hand fall from his back to the bed, and he grabbed it quickly and pushed it up over her head again, only this time, his fingers threaded through hers and squeezed as tightly as her walls squeezed his shaft.

His thrusts switched to shorter, shallower, much faster now. Each time, his cockhead brushed over a spot inside her that robbed her of all sound and all thought. Just like that, he’d reduced her to nothing but quivering nerves and trembling muscles.

Gwen dug her nails roughly into his back same as she squeezed his hand and let him ride her for all she was worth.

Since his cheek pressed against hers, she heard his every grunt in relentless stereo. He was too needy, too desperate. It was only magnifying those same feelings inside her.

Her skin burned with sweat. Her eyes burned from squeezing them against the overwhelming pleasure. Her core burned from the friction of his perfect fucking.

He was panting in her ear, and she could feel the curl of his lip as he snarled.

Gwen moved her free hand into his hair as she clutched his head to her like a lover.

“Baby,” she cried, “baby, I’m going to cum again.”

He let out the most pitiful whine she’d ever heard in her life as his hips spurred even faster.

“Baby.”

The pull was there, starting at her chest and dragging her down.

Down.

Down.

“Give it to me,” he urged, the words nearly broken under the crushing weight of his desperation.

“Baby!”

This time when Gwen said it, it was a strangled little thing, the last breath of a woman before she disappeared beneath the waves.

It was different, cumming with his cock inside her instead of his fingers. Her walls frantically beckoned him to disappear within her, willing him to never leave. She shivered and shook and screamed with the power of a release she’d never thought herself capable.

He fucked her through it all, the smoky curl of his self-satisfied “yes…” unfurling across her skin.

And when at last Gwen had no more aftershocks to give, she laid there too limp to hold on to him at all. Her leg slipped to the bed and her hand from his hair and her fingers slackened in his, though he refused to let her go.

His strokes had grown erratic, each one accompanied by the sloppy sounds of her catastrophic release.

“Where do you want me to cum?” he said hurriedly.

Gwen knew what she wanted—what her body was demanding. She wanted him to fill her up. She wanted this perfectly handsome perfect stranger to cum deep inside her so she should could hold on to a little bit of him even after she walked out the door.

But this was the end—not just of their passionate sex but their time together. If she didn’t put distance between them right now, she was in for an even more terrible fall.

No feelings, just sex.

“My face,” she blurted.

Gwen regretted it instantly. That wasn’t what she wanted at all, and she braced for the humiliation she deserved.

But, instead, he pulled out with a strangled cry and came in the tangle of bed sheets beside him.

“I’m sorry,” he managed between heaves of breath and frantic jerks of his spasming cock. “I’m sorry.”

She watched his broad, glistening back flare as he hid himself from her, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to touch him. Her fingertips slipped in the sheen of sweat there, and his head whipped back toward her.

“I couldn’t do that,” he said dejectedly. “You’re just so pretty, I’m sorry. I know that’s what you wanted, but—”

“I didn’t mean it anyway,” she said. “I don’t know why I said it.”

Something fluttered across his dark features before his brow furrowed, and he turned away again. “Damnit, I should have never listened to my friends.”

Gwen quirked her head even as she covered up with the sheet. “Your friends?”

The man tumbled onto the mattress and spread out like a winded starfish without a single care for his nakedness, and she felt a little shame at the way she ogled that delicious stomach and his softening length now glossy and still leaking onto his thigh.

He sighed.

He was so different now from the dark, intense man he’d been only moments ago. Back was the brilliance that emanated from within that almost compelled Gwen to close her eyes when she looked at him. She could hardly believe it was the same man who’d brought her to two earth-shaking orgasms in no time at all.

“Can I confess something to you?” he said.

Gwen tensed all over, but she managed a nod of her head. “Okay.”

“This isn’t really my thing,” he continued, and her heart plummeted in ways it shouldn’t considering she’d just fucked a total stranger.

“Oh…”

Gwen realized too late how apparent the disappointment in her voice was when the man shot up and swiveled to her, his hands waving in defense. “I didn’t mean it like that, I swear! I mean, I have a hard time keeping things… simple. It wasn’t just the body shot thing that was a dare. Tonight was kind of my friends’ idea. They want me to be more… unattached, I guess?”

“That’s what my friend said, too,” Gwen laughed.

“Really?” He joined her laugh until, finally, his shoulders sagged with a light sigh as he covered his lower half with the sheet at last.

“Yeah.”

“I thought I was doing pretty good there, too, but— That was just so much more than I ever expected—you’re kind of more than I expected—and I really don’t want you to think I was just using you.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Because…” He paused then, massaging his lips together as his eyes fell to his lap. “I think their dare kind of backfired anyway. Or it’s entirely possible I’m a hopeless case. So… I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tomorrow?”

At this, Gwen stiffened. Her eyes snagged on his naked frame. Though the sheet swaddled his hips and thighs, it did nothing to hide his tummy or his shoulders or his bowed head, nor did it conceal his pencil legs and feet poking sweetly over the edge of the bed. And then she realized they were both tucked under that sheet, and it would be so, so easy to just lay back and fall asleep with him.

There it was again, that urge to romanticize someone she didn’t even know, yet everything about the guy screamed boyfriend—or worse.

Oh no.

Boyfriend.

The one word Marie had made Gwen swear not to use this weekend.

And damned if her roommate hadn’t been right all along. The hard truth was, Gwen didn’t know this man. She didn’t know what he did, she didn’t know his past, she didn’t know his ethnicity or even his damn name, and that was all there was to it. To assign any more meaning to it was every bit as foolish as everyone always reminded her she was.

Dread welled in her stomach and weighted her limbs. The best Gwen could do was offer a tight smile. “I’d really like that, but my friend has our whole day planned.”

“Oh.” He looked crestfallen, but he picked himself up quickly and slipped out of the bed in a shy, awkward rush while trying to keep his modesty with the edge of the sheet still draped around his hips. He stretched out his leg as far as he could to hook the band of his jeans with his toe. He tried to keep conversation flowing even as he struggled with the cutest little grunts very different to the ones that had just been uttered for her ears only. “Oh yeah? Going to check out the beach or the city?”

“I’m not sure,” Gwen said. The truth was they had no plans, but she had to lie because her whole body screamed to meet him again, and if she did, there was no way of keeping things superficial. The man was too cute, too sincere, and far, far too sexy to turn down a second time. “I’m not one for itineraries. I kind of go where my heart leads me.”

He stopped, jeans sagging in hand as he looked at her with a gentle smile. “Yeah, same.”

But then his smile fell away, and he raced to shimmy into his jeans, too in a hurry to even bother with his underwear, and Gwen turned her head and busied herself poking at the remote on the bedside table.

Over her shoulder, she asked, “So, what will you guys get up to then? More bachelor party stuff?”

“I never can tell with them. Even when one of the guys makes plans, the others always seem to change them. I’m just along for the ride.”

“Easiest way to get through life,” she agreed. Gwen wanted to flinch at her own voice, but she didn’t want to call any more attention to her terrible bedside manner than she already had.

In the end, it didn’t matter. The man beside her was too perceptive, and he picked up her cues instantly. “Let me just grab the rest of my clothes and clean up in the bathroom so you can get dressed.”

“Would you mind if I go first? You know, since...”

Maybe if she tried hard enough, her awkwardness could compact her into a handful of atoms, and she could just disappear.

“Oh, of course, duh. Sure. Absolutely,” he bumbled.

Gwen grabbed the haphazard pile at the foot of the bed and practically sprinted to the bathroom where she tried to lose herself in the repetition of cleanliness. At least that was automatic.

Against her better judgment, she checked herself in the mirror. She looked every bit as undone as he had made her, and she hastily combed her fingers through her bed head so she didn’t scream “harlot” when she made her way back through the hallways. She rinsed her face and neck and swished some water to freshen her breath, and when she was done, she felt brave enough to face the music.

When Gwen returned to the bedroom, she found the man dressed as he had been, though all his clothes bore the same noticeable wrinkles and bagginess that hers did.

He smiled at her, and she swallowed roughly.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.”

It was agony. She just wanted to kiss him again. She wanted to feel him again. She wanted to hear him in the shell of her ear again.

“So, this was really fun,” she said lamely. “Thanks for the drinks and, you know, everything else.”

He laughed shyly.

This time, as she faced his open complexion and expressive eyes, she had no choice but to be sincere. “I had a really great time.”

“You did?”

She nodded. “I really didn’t expect to meet someone like you either, but I’m glad I did.”

“Ah!” he exclaimed before he unexpectedly bowed to her. “Thank you. I feel the same.”

Gwen burst out laughing, which helped ease the pang in her heart at having to pull away. “You’re cute.”

He shrugged a shoulder and laughed, too, though his was much more forced. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, and the pair stood there in a stalemate. At last, he took a step back, and she took one forward.

“So…”

“So…” he echoed.

Gwen bit the inside of her cheek roughly in the desperate hope it would wake her up, and, thankfully, the flare of pain combatted the butterflies before they could overtake her. Tightly, she began, “I’m going to head out, I think.”

“Sure, yeah,” he said as he ushered her back into the living room to the door. “Yeah, you probably should. Are you good to walk back to your room? Wait, this is your hotel, right? Do I need to call you an Uber?”

“Yeah, I’m here. All good.”

“Good.”

“Good.”

They exchanged another round of confused smiles before Gwen, fool that she was, lurched up onto her tip toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. When she pulled back, his smile slanted with an irresistible dopiness.

“You sure you don’t want me to walk you back?”

“You probably shouldn’t.”

He nodded as though he understood, but Gwen wasn’t sure she did even though she’d been the one to say it.

“Goodnight,” she whispered.

“Night,” he replied. “Take care.”

He opened his hotel door, and with a nod of her head first, Gwen turned and headed down the hall with the burning notion that he was watching her walk away.

She barely made it to the elevator before she had her phone in hand, intending to text Marie that she was headed back, but Gwen got sidetracked by the memory of what now lurked in her gallery.

She opened her camera roll only to be assaulted immediately by several snaps of his heart-shaped hair and buoyant cheeks framing his dazzling smile.

“He's cute. Is that your boyfriend?”

Gwen’s head shot up. She hadn’t even realized the elevator had stopped to acquire another passenger at some point. The bleached blonde girl smiled, her wild gold eyeliner glinting in the lowlight like some forest sprite sent there just to taunt her.

Gwen locked her phone and stuffed it in her leggings pocket with a shake of her head. “Uh. Oh, no, he’s just a friend.”

“Cute friend.”

“Yeah.”

The elevator dinged at the fourth floor and Gwen nodded to the other woman. “This is me. Have a good night.”

“You too!”

Back at her room, Gwen showered quickly, hoping it would be easier to distance herself from the forbidden word now buzzing in her brain like neon.

Boyfriend. Boyfriend. Boyfriend.

She considered a shower, but that meant too much time to think just as much as it meant washing off the remnants of his cologne. She could do that in the morning once her heart had sobered up from its dopamine surge.

Gwen dressed for bed the same mechanical way she had back in Room 2281, and once she was safely into her pajamas, the familiarity brought the exhaustion in her muscles to the surface. She was only too happy to climb into bed after that, and tired as she was, she remembered to send her text to Marie.

Her finger hovered over the gallery icon again, but at the last second, she forced her phone off and let the night take hold of her.

Gwen woke to banging at her door. She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and sat up slowly since her muscles ached from head to toe. She glanced at the thick drapes and caught the wan strip of light along the edges, but she had no clue what time it was until she grabbed her phone to find that it was just past noon. Even more surprisingly, she noted the slew of notifications.

Nine texts and four missed calls, all from Marie.

The banging continued, and Gwen groaned. “Give me a minute!”

At last, it quieted, and she shuffled like a geriatric over to the peephole. There, warped in the fish eye lens, was her roommate looking the perfect cross between annoyed and desperate. Gwen unlocked the door, and Marie rushed in.

“Finally,” the brunette said. “I was getting seriously worried.”

“I told you I made it back,” Gwen corrected.

“Yeah, but then you didn’t answer me at all, and I thought maybe you were passed out or something.”

The blonde squinted as she studied her friend now pacing the length of the hotel room. “Are you sure that’s it? Seems to me you’re the one who’s not okay.”

Marie shrugged a shoulder.  

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” her roommate said, still pacing. “Everything.”

Still exhausted, Gwen sat back on the bed and waited.

“Shit, it’s just— You know what, let's go to the pool. Maybe it will wash that guy out of my system.”

“That guy? The one from the party last night? Did you have a bad night?”

“No! Worse!” Marie wailed and flopped onto the bed. “He wasn't just scalding hot. He was likable! Ugh, I'm devastated. Catching feelings is your thing, girl, not mine. Damnit, I need a distraction. Tell me about your night. Please, don’t spare a single fucking detail.”

It was Gwen’s turn to shrug a shoulder. “I had fun.”

“So much fun you're not even going to tell your friend a single detail?” But then Marie's eyes narrowed, and her roommate’s skin bristled. “Or you had too much fun?”

“Hey, I slept in my own room last night, thank you.”

Marie whined. “Shit, I know. I must be projecting.”

“So what the hell happened with you last night?” Gwen said, only too happy to turn the attention away from her as she shuffled into the bathroom for her usual morning routine.

“I hardly know. We were dancing and drinking, no big deal, so I figured it was just going to be the usual fun, and it was fun, but, shit, he was just different, you know? He was like one of those lead guys from your movies, all gentlemanly and shit but more, too. Like he’s got secrets, but not the kind you want to run from, the kind you want to know. Oh my god, what am I even saying?”

Gwen smiled. “So, he was hot and charming? How is that different from the other guys you hook up with?”

“Gwennie, I didn’t even tell you about the sex. Shit, the way he moved his hips! There should be a law. And he was so diligent. He knew exactly what I wanted, and I didn't have to say a word, which was good because the only ones I could utter were swears. And I just couldn’t keep my hands off of him, you know? Fuck, not just his muscles, but his hair…” Marie laid there slack-jawed at the memory, her hands pressed over her belly.

“Sounds like you got the unforgettable night you were gunning for.”

“You don’t get it, babe. Even as he was giving me the dicking down of my life, this guy—he was, like, quietly sweet and funny? I don’t know how to explain it. He could just… smile, and it would make me laugh, like, even when he was inside, and somehow that was still super hot, you know?”

Gwen burst out laughing.

“See!” said Marie, gesturing at her roommate as she exploded up from the bed.

“I see,” the blonde teased with a lingering grin.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just, you know who you sound like?”

“You.”

“Me.”

Marie sighed. “Shit, I know. You know the worst part?”

“What?”

“This guy asked me to stay after.”

“Oh…”

“I mean, it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time I considered staying. Ain’t that some shit? But what would be the point, right?”

“Yeah…” Gwen said slowly as she thought of her thick-lipped lover. Marie’s unexpected dilemma had been just what Gwen needed to forget the ache in her core and the bigger ache in her chest, but now, it was a mirror reflecting things back far too vividly.

“Shit, huh?”

“Yeah. Shit.”

“You know the only thing to do, right?”

“Don't you dare,” Gwen warned.

But Marie was already up and moving to the door. “We’re going to the pool, and I'm going to find another hot guy because hot guys are a dime a dozen in Miami, right? I'm going to cleanse the palate.”

“Yeah, that's not how that works.”

“Look, I've never thought a guy was husband material before, let alone a one-night stand, so what do you suggest I do, Ms. Ephron?”

Gwen scowled. “Don't ask me. I've been getting it wrong so long that I'm not even sure I could trust myself to know when it was right.”

“Okay then. For lack of absolutely any other plan, this is what we’re doing. Put your swimsuit on, gorgeous. Let’s see how much Vitamin D we can get.”

Gwen sighed, but the truth was Marie’s distraction did help her forget the feeling of being surrounded by the stranger she couldn’t shake, so she slipped into her bikini, fought hard not to open her gallery yet again, and decided to dive headfirst into something new like her friend suggested if only to prove to herself once and for all that she’d idealized everything about last night.

Marie joined her in the hallway decked out in her cutest Miami-approved string bikini, already smelling of sunscreen and Flowerbomb. “Let’s do this.”

The pair chatted about their day and where they might go for their last night in town, all while studiously avoiding the topic of last night. They padded through the extravagant lobby along with a sea of other swimsuit-ed guests, their flip-flops smacking across the marble like theme music, until they emerged into the blistering Florida sun.

The pool looked very different in the daylight. There was no trace of the stage or the bars, and there was certainly no body shot table left out. It was just an ocean of sun-bleached concrete thrusting straight up to the white sands of Miami Beach, broken only by an enormous aquamarine pool, dozens of lavish cabanas, and a manmade forest of towering palms.

“Wait,” said Gwen as she scouted the bustling crowd stretching all the way out to the blue sea beyond, “you want the pool or—”

“Oh my god!” shouted Marie as she squealed to a stop and slipped behind Gwen. “It's him!”

“Who? The guy from last night? Where?”

“There, right at the edge of the pool. The one who’s shaped like a yield sign telling me slow down and give in to him again and again and again…”

“Marie!” she shouted and whirled around to face her friend.

“Oh my god, Gwennie, you have to hold me back or I am going to do irreparable damage here. Shit, shit, shit! I can’t believe I’m the one saying this. Fuck. He's looking right at me now, and he's waving with that stupid cute teddy bear smile, fuck. What do I do! What do I do!”

Gwen grabbed her friend’s shoulders and shook her until Marie looked at her. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go over there, and I want to talk to him, and I want to hear his whole entire life story and what he wants in a woman, and then I want to take him back to my hotel room and be that woman.”

“Oh, girl,” Gwen laughed, “I never want to hear advice from you about this ever again.”

“That’s fine, just please come with me. I don’t want to talk to him alone.”

“Who are you, and what did you do with Marie?”

The brunette grimaced as she squeezed Gwen’s hands. “I don’t know! Help me!”

“Okay, now, I need to see the guy who broke my friend.”

Gwen turned from Marie toward the pool in time to catch the man who’d unmade her roommate over the course of one night. He was every bit as hot as Marie had described, with a chiseled jaw and even more chiseled abs, and he was indeed shaped like a triangle, which could be appreciated even easier since he was only in swim trunks. His skin had been worshipped by the sun, and he was sparkling thanks to a fresh dip in the pool. He lowered his muscular arm to sweep his fingers back through his sopping wet hair, and somewhere beside her, her friend whimpered.

But the blonde could only spend a fraction of a second on everything else around her because beside Marie’s hunk now was the very man who had unmade Gwen last night.

Time stopped.

He, too, was fresh out of the pool, with a towel ringing his neck and shoulders as swollen droplets rained down from thick, haphazard locks. He was out of breath, his chest heaving from his swim and his pale lips hanging open as he gulped air, just as they had when he’d fucked her to the brink of insanity.

But his eyes were as steady as ever, and they were fixed firmly on Gwen.

“Should we go over?” asked Marie, but her friend couldn’t move.

Instead, the two men began to walk the long perimeter before the bronzed man cut out the inconvenience and hopped back in the pool to wade across. Gwen was pretty sure she’d never again see anything more life-altering than these two shirtless heartthrobs pressing determinedly through the water with the ripples surging around their matching narrow waists.

The pair climbed out in horrible, horrible unison, their wet thighs flexing in time with their arms as water rushed off in diamond falls, and it was all terribly loud in Gwen’s ears. It only amplified when her stranger smiled in his darling tight-lipped way.

They padded across the concrete to the little swath of grass under a palm where the two ladies had been paralyzed.

“Hi, hello,” said the deep-voiced bronzed man. “It’s nice to see you again, Marie.”

“Hey, Hyunwoo,” she replied. Maybe it would sound casual to the strangers, but Gwen didn’t miss the uncharacteristic tremble in her friend’s voice.

“Good day for a swim,” he observed as he glanced up at the sun through the palm fronds and rubbed the back of his neck. “You planning on the pool or the ocean?”

“We hadn’t decided.”

“Ah, is this your friend you told me about?”

Marie nodded and took the chance to cling to her roommate’s hand, and with that, gained some strength. “Oh, yeah, this is Gwen. Gwen, this is Hyunwoo.”

Gwen felt the sharp squeeze at her hand, which was the only thing that made her realize she’d been staring unceasingly at her own pretty boy. She whipped her attention to Hyunwoo to smile and wave, but she could feel the burn of the other man’s eyes until she felt more naked than she had in his bed. She didn’t dare look back.

“Nice to meet you,” Hyunwoo said with that teddy bear smile, as Marie had called it. He turned toward his shirtless friend and added, “This is—”

“Hey!” came an exuberant call from across the pool in one of the loudest voices Gwen had ever heard. There stood yet another handsome man with hair dyed honey blond and chipper eyes waving at them with both arms like a used car lot inflatable. “Hey! Ask them if they want to join us.”

“Minhyuk,” scoffed the remaining stranger with a roll of his eyes, but Hyunwoo shrugged his mouth.

“What do you say, ladies? We have a cabana over there. Lunch is on its way, and we ordered lots.”

Marie giggled nervously and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Yeah, I remember how much you said you like eating. I mean, if it’s cool with everybody…”

The brunette looked desperately at Gwen and squeezed her hand tighter than ever, and all eyes looked to the blonde.

“Sure, that’s cool,” said Gwen though she was anything but.

She was burning under the sun though it was nothing to the way she burned under the magnifying glass of cruel fate. Here, before the gentle gaze of the man she had forced herself to walk away from, everything came into calamitous focus.

His laugh, his easiness, his openness, his beauty. Their chemistry, their connection, their compatibility, their flaws.

Maybe Gwen had been a fool in love an embarrassing number of times, but she realized now that maybe all those mistakes had served a purpose. She could see clearly for the first time what all those men had lacked, and she’d be a much bigger fool to turn back a second time from something that felt undeniably different.

“You coming?” Marie called, and only then did Gwen realize Hyunwoo and her friend were already on their way to the cabana.

Beside her, her shot glass waited, smiling as he always seemed to be in her presence with that delicious bellybutton still glistening though this time it was from lingering pool water.

“Didn’t think I’d be lucky enough to ever see you again,” he said.

“We’re really bad at this, aren’t we?” Gwen laughed awkwardly as she took the lead and followed her friend.

With his long legs, he caught up in a single stride, and together, they walked the long perimeter of the pool without any complaint.

“Bad at what?” he asked.

“Keeping promises to our friends.”

“Nah. Maybe it was just a dumb promise to make in the first place. And anyway,” he said, looking at her keenly over a bare shoulder, “aren’t you the one who told me no itineraries?”

“Oh yeah,” she said with a red-cheeked chuckle.

I go where my heart leads…

“I take it Hyunwoo’s a part of the bachelor party?” Gwen said.

“Yup. There’s eight of us, including the groom and his brother. You’ll like them, just hopefully not as much as you like me.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “And who says I like you?”

“I do. At least, I hope you do. Or maybe I’m just trying to manifest it.”

Gwen smiled shyly and nodded. “You’re right. I do.”

“Kind of funny how this worked out, huh? Your friend and my friend meeting up. Kind of feels like…”

“Blind dumb luck?”

“Destiny.” He studied her for a moment and then returned his eyes to the path around the pool. “I was going to say destiny.”

Her heart was beating out of her chest again, but this time, there was no scolding voice inside her head to temper it.

“You’re still cute,” she blurted.

“And you’re still driving me crazy.” His eyes roved over her skimpily clad figure, and he pressed his lips together. “So… Gwen, huh? That’s a beautiful name. It suits you.”

She was not prepared for the way it would feel to hear her name from his exquisite lips.

The front of her flip-flop rolled, and she stumbled forward with a cry and a flail before he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve got you,” he assured. He stared down at her fondly as she sheltered in the shade of his wide shoulders. Slowly, a smirk crept onto his lips. “Last time, you said it was the heels and you were a sandals girl. What’s your excuse today?”

“I’m clumsy, okay.”

“For everyone or just for me?” he teased. He leaned down, his lips to her hair, and added, “It’s okay if you say just for me. I’m kind of hoping for it.”

Gwen looked up into those brown eyes. The night had brought out their smoky depths, but the day brought out their playful hickory dimensions. So, too, had the merciless sun illuminated the finest spray of freckles dappling his cheek to puffy cheek, to devastating consequence.

“Maybe I’d admit it if I even knew who you were,” she said.

He stopped, and she stopped, too. Gwen looked at him with nervous eyes and an even more skittish heart.

She could forgive herself for all her stupid mistakes if it meant she could just get it right this one time…

Please. Just this once…

He lifted his head, caught her gaze, and closed the gap between them with one big step.

“In that case…”

Slowly, he bent down as his large hands gripped her cheeks, and just as his lips grazed hers gentler than the sea breeze, he spoke.

“So nice to finally meet you, Gwen. I’m Hyungwon.”

A/N: I know, I know. The muse obviously tried to turn this into a whole rom-com novel, but instead, I remained resolute to close this on the whimsical romantic open ending I originally intended. It got too out-of-hand as it was, if you couldn’t tell lol, so let your own romantic hearts take it from here, loves. <3 Thanks for reading!

[doulayogimama]

Team “I only like to wear clothes as comfy as pajamas” after spending the first 20 years of my life feeling like I couldn’t exist outside without looking perfect. I couldn’t go to the grocery store or school without make up on, I wore a corset every single day for 3 years from grades 7-10. I took diet pills that were literally legalized speed at 15 and felt high all the time. My grandmother took me to get these drugs from a “doctor” here in Miami. I wore sky high heels that felt like foot binding so my 5’0 frame would be less obvious (was always “picked on” for my height).

I always wonder: “would I enjoy things like wearing makeup if I hadn’t grown up feeling forced to wear it to feel beautiful or accepted?”

My father told my mom on the regular: “you will scare people if you go out like that” (no make up on). The older I get the more I have to fight my absolute distaste for him as a person, albeit I know he genuinely does his best.

My hair isn’t brushed, I only wear makeup to events like weddings, and my nails have not been manicured in months. Where I’m from, that’s almost a crime. It’s taken my family a long time to get used to this version of me but I’m finally becoming accepting of the fact that I don’t live by the same rules as my family and THAT IS OKAY.

My kids will know a mom and a dad who love their bodies in all it’s forms. They will see us move our bodies not as punishment for what we ate but as a celebration of our bodies miraculous ability to explore the world.

I’m very grateful to be 30 years old and to be here. I think of the 12 year old in the mall fitting room, crying so hard she had to stifle her gasping for breath because she was afraid of people being able to hear her self hatred.

Never again.

[likelylarks]

when it’s finished it’ll go on ao3 but until then, preview to epilogue(?) for do we fall in love (and fuck it up for good) (danielfest fic) - the (build up) for the sex they didn’t have in the last chapter

Daniel was going to die. Genuinely, truly, perish. He hadn’t seen Max - outside the screen of his phone for Facetime calls - in weeks. He hadn’t kissed Max in weeks. And it was going to kill him.

Not being at all the races had been good for him, really. He was feeling healthier than he had in years. He was able to reconnect with himself and what mattered to him. However, part of what mattered to him was Max. And they were reconnecting. Daniel felt like they’d talked more in the last four months than they had in the last five years combined. Sometimes they called even called each other to not talk, just be together. Their time zones had gotten so fucked that one time Daniel stayed on the line with Max for 12 hours, wished him good night and good morning, and kept company with his breathing the whole time in between.

Point being, Max mattered to Daniel and, of course, they were reconnecting, too. Daniel just wished they could do some...physical reconnecting, too. Preferably of their dicks. And their mouths.

They were finally going to see each other again in Miami. Blake kept telling him to calm down, there was nothing new to tell each other, but Daniel couldn’t listen. Max could walk him through step-by-step of getting dressed in the morning or eating breakfast and Daniel would love to listen to it. Honestly, just kind of crawling into Max’s lap and feeling the rumble of his chest as he talked sounded fucking great. He’d need to tell Max to block off some time this weekend so they could cuddle.

They’d planned it where Max would come to the hotel instead of Daniel going to the airport. Max had said no one would really recognize them probably so it would be okay. Daniel said that he was going to kiss Max as soon as he saw him. Max conceded the point. Except now, Daniel was going out of his fucking mind. Max’s plane had landed ages ago and if Daniel’s boyfriend didn’t knock on his hotel room door soon, Daniel was going to die.

Max, of course, was always going to save Daniel’s life in so many ways. Max’s firm little knock was the greatest thing Daniel had ever heard in his life. He flew to the door and wrenched it open, and there Max was. Laden with bags and looking cozy in his sweater, Daniel thought that Max was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. True to his word, before either of them had even said hello, Daniel grabbed Max and pulled him in to kiss him. Max smelled like airplane and tasted like home.

They kissed for longer than they should have with the door open but it wasn’t until Max started to pull back that Daniel let go, and even then, he couldn’t help but chase Max’s mouth.

“Daniel,” Max laughed, “Let me put my things down.” Daniel stepped back and Max stepped forward, placing his suitcase by the table in the hallway. The door swung closed now it was no longer held open by Max’s luggage. As soon as his hand’s were free, Max was reaching for Daniel. Daniel went, two magnets clicking together. Max crushed Daniel to him, wrapping all the way around Daniel’s body and burying his face in his neck. Daniel could feel Max taking big breaths, as if he were trying to suck Daniel wholly into his lungs.

Daniel squeezed Max’s waist tighter. So focused on how they fit together, Daniel almost didn’t hear Max’s quiet, “Missed you.”

Daniel pulled back to cup Max’s face in his hands, “I missed you so much I was going crazy with it.”

Max smiled, “It is not a competition Daniel, for who missed who the most.”

Daniel grinned, “Of course not, that’s just the truth. But if it was a competition, I’d win.”

Max shook his head. Daniel let his arms follow the movement so he didn’t have to let go of Max. Max opened his mouth but before they could get stuck in the “missing you” Olympics, Daniel leaned forward and kissed him again. Max gave in and Daniel felt a familiar thrill at how Max seemed to want Daniel just as much as Daniel wanted Max.

It was nice, to feel so loved.

Max broke their kiss, “Daniel, baby, I feel and smell like garbage. Let me take a shower and then we can...” He trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows.

Daniel pouted, “I just got to hold you again and now you want me to let you go?”

Max laughed, ducking his face into Daniel’s shoulder, “I would like to smell good for you, and be clean for anything we want to do later.”

Daniel slid his hands to the back of Max’s head, threading through the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck. “I’d say ‘let me shower with you then’ but my shower is stupid small for how nice this room is. Good water pressure though.”

Max raised his head and Daniel skimmed his hands down to rest on Max’s arms. “Guess I’ll just wait out here.” He tried to sound only jokingly put out instead of for real bummed that he had to be away from Max for twenty minutes.

Max clutched at Daniel’s waist, “No, stay, stay in the room with me? Talk while I shower. I want to hear what I missed while I was on the plane.”

“Oh, exhibitionism - spicy, Maxy.” Max leveled Daniel with a withering stare. Daniel grinned, unapologetic. 

“Alright, come on, let’s get you clean so we can get all messy together.” Daniel tugged Max towards the bathroom. When they got in, Daniel cut on the water for Max before hopping onto the counter. He swung his legs idly against the cabinet, watching Max get undressed.

Max tugged his shirt off before raising an eyebrow at Daniel, “You are supposed to be talking. You said you had a promo thing to do yesterday.”

Daniel startled, he’d a little bit forgotten he wasn’t just here to ogle Max. He started chattering, trying to maintain a line of thinking while Max took his pants off. It was easier to when Max got in the shower and was obscured by the curtain. Daniel told Max every little thing he could think of that had happened since they’d last talked on the phone.

It felt stupidly, wonderfully domestic. Daniel handed Max a towel when he stepped out and said, “Now you.” So Max told him about the baby he saw in the airport and the caviar they tried to serve in first class. Max stopped with his leg propped on the toilet seat to look into Daniel’s eyes. “Caviar. Daniel. Caviar. So gross.” He looked affronted that the airline had even attempted to serve anyone anything to do with fish.

When Max had finished drying off, he straightened, dropping his towel on the floor. “Am I getting dressed so we can talk more or are you getting undressed so you can fuck me?”

Daniel snorted, “You have such a way with words, angel. I’m down for anything as long as you come over here and kiss me first.”

Max sauntered over, pressing between Daniel’s legs. “I’d really like you to fuck me.” Daniel nodded because obviously he wanted that, too, even if he could just talk to Max forever. Max was so fucking hot, of course Daniel wanted to fuck him always. Except for the times when he wanted Max to fuck him, of course.

It was nice to be able to admit that to himself and not feel a thick curl of shame in his throat.

Any further train of thought disappeared as Max leaned in to kiss him, wet and slow and leading.

[vmprgrl-2005]

I never told you what I do for a living (hotline miami-jacket x reader)-part four

"I don't want to wake up from this tonight"

part one part two part three wattpad link

word count-1.3k

warnings-blood, violence, mentions of death, kind of angsty?

an-last part:((( i hope you guys liked it!!!! thanks for reading:) (also the ending is absolutely subject to change because i kind of hate it lmao) <-ending has been edited!

I wait restlessly for what feels like hours, turning frantically in the uncomfortable car seat every few minutes. Each gunshot I hear makes my heart skip a beat. I can’t help but picture the scene from the other night, the blood coating the floors and walls, the pure terror that ran through my body when I saw my loving boyfriend murder two people in front of me. The thought of it makes me feel sick, and I rub my eyes to try to shake the vision from my mind. Trying to pass some time, I pull Jacket’s wallet out of his pocket, searching until I find the beat-up polaroid that he takes everywhere with him. It's a picture from when he was in the military a few years ago. A man stands next to him in the photo, a couple inches taller than Jacket with shoulder length red hair and a thick beard. Jacket looks like a kid next to him, it seems like they were close friends.

I remember the stories Jacket would tell me about his time in the military when I couldn’t sleep. How he met his best friend, how he almost died, always pulling his shirt up to show me his scars, how he would lay on the beach and smoke instead of doing his work, that the beaches in Hawai’i were even more beautiful than the ones in Miami, and that he would take me there someday. He would always stare at the picture fondly, but with a bit of despair in his eyes, I’ll have to ask him about it someday. I put the picture back, tucking his wallet away and sighing when I realize how much time has passed.

After dozing off for a while, I hear a sound nearby, footsteps. I glance at the door expectantly, hoping that Jacket is on the other side. The door opens and he stumbles outside, shirt covered in blood and jeans slightly more ripped than before. I get out of his car and run towards him. Dropping the large fire ax in his hand, he wraps his arms around me, lifting me up before stumbling slightly and pulling away. I lift the mask he's wearing over his head with one hand, bringing the other to cradle his face. His cheek is bruised slightly, and part of his lip is bleeding, but he's still in one piece in my arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” I whisper. He doesn’t reply, only wrapping his arms around me again before turning me around and leading me back to his car.

I slide into the car again, moving awkwardly a few times so that the barely healed hole in my side isn’t hitting the seat. We both sit in silence for a moment, not sure what to say or do anymore. I turn and look at Jacket with wide eyes, “Where do we go now?” I ask. He stares forward for a moment, as if he's just realized everything that has happened, his apartment is destroyed, his car is falling apart, and he could collapse at any second from his bullet wound. Wordlessly, he begins driving. After a few minutes of unfamiliar turns, Jacket takes one of my hands from my lap and encloses it in his. I look out the window, and he squeezes my hand to get my attention, asking, “Can you close your eyes? Just for a few minutes, I promise.” I do, of course, despite my suspicion. A cool breeze still blows through the holes in the windshield, but it feels wrong, as if the peaceful evening is an out of place sign that some other awful thing is going to happen.

After a few minutes, we slow down and I hear Jacket put the car in park. “Let me get you out, but don’t open your eyes yet.” He says. I feel Jacket’s arms under my legs as he picks me up slowly before placing me in front of the car, his hand still in mine. “Okay, open your eyes” he says quietly, and I swear I can hear a hint of out-of-place excitement in his voice.

We're parked on a small cliff on a desolate stretch of the beach, where we went on one of our first dates. Looking down at the sand brings back memories of that night. The perfect sunset, Jacket’s hand placed hesitantly in mine like all of this was new to him. Jacket squeezes my hand lightly, muttering “Come on”and leading me back to his car. He steps on the hood of the car, sitting down on the roof, then holds out his hand to help me stay balanced as I climb up to sit by him. He puts his hands on my hips to pull me down to sit between his legs, looping his arms around my neck and pulling me towards his chest. Reaching around my side and into one of the pockets of his letterman, Jacket pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, as always. He lights one of the cigarettes, inhaling deeply and turning his head to blow the smoke away from me. As he’s turned away, I take the cigarette from in between his fingers and put it between my lips, breathing in a few times and holding back a cough before Jacket can take it back and mutter “Stop, you shouldn’t smoke” under his breath. Holding the cigarette in one hand, he reaches underneath my shirt, resting his other hand on the bandages that cover my side. I can tell that he wants to say something, he’s never been good with words. “I’m sorry that I scared you” he eventually says, “this has been going on for a few weeks now.” Gray smoke leaves his mouth with every word, contrasting against the pink sky behind him. I lean further into his touch, “At least it’s all over now, right?” I whisper. Jacket pauses for a moment before replying “Hopefully” in a somewhat hesitant tone. I’m not sure how much blood is on his hands, or if I care anymore, especially as we’re both dying. I can tell by the look in Jacket’s eyes that I don’t have much time left with him, and I know that no amount of arguing is going to convince him to go back to the hospital. It’s a terrifying thought, knowing how much we’ve been through and the worst is still yet to come. “I’m going to be fine, and so are you.” Jacket says, my concern must be obvious. I throw myself against him softly, leaning my head onto his chest, wanting to feel his warmth and breathe in his scent for as long as possible. The soft crash of the waves against the sand and the dimming light of the sunset make everything feel like a dream, not much different from how the past couple of days have felt. I stare out at the ocean, wondering what comes next, what other terrible thing could happen, as per usual. The only thing keeping me conscious while also being the thing that’s lulling me to sleep is the warmth and softness of Jacket’s body against mine. Without thinking, I stand, sliding off of the hood of the car carelessly whilst holding onto Jacket’s hand, pulling him down with me. He doesn’t say anything as I pull him closer to the edge of the cliff before wrapping my arms around him. Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around me, one hand on my waist, the other on the back of my head, keeping me as close to him as he possibly can. “I love you, okay?” Jacket says, running his hand up and down my back. “I love you, too” I reply after a short silence. I lean my head against him and close my eyes.

After a moment, my exhaustion catches up with me and my legs start to give out. Without a word, Jacket sits down and pulls me onto his lap, dangling his legs over the edge of the cliff. He hesitantly reaches underneath my shirt again, bringing his hand to my bandages and carefully pulling them off before pressing his hand to the bullet hole, attempting to stop the bleeding. I can barely keep my eyes open, only looking to see the large red stain on my shirt and Jacket’s blood covered hand, my stitches must have ripped a while ago. He then moves his hand up my chest, resting his hand over my heart. It seems like my pulse is slower than usual. I can hear Jacket sob quietly and I bring my hand to my chest to hold his, trying to comfort him.

The last thing I hear is the sound of waves in the distance and a whispered “I love you.”

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

178. Forever & Always

Night after night, Midge finds herself staring at the phone.

It makes her feel pathetic. She’s used to men pursuing her. She was easily the most beautiful girl in her class at Bryn Mawr. Joel pursued her even as she continuously rebuffed him. Benjamin was eventually unable to resist her. Declan Howell. Even the guy from the park whose name she can’t be bothered to remember recently sought her out.

Once upon a time, she would have put Lenny Bruce in that category. Because he did pursue her. He invited her out in Miami. He asked her to dance. He looked at her with those dark eyes and asked to see her show corset and told her on the most prestigious stage in the country that she had the ability to break his fucking heart.

And she hasn’t heard from him since.

What the hell happened? She thought something was finally happening. For so long, she was afraid that if she had sex with Lenny Bruce, that would be the end. She’d lose someone who became incredibly important to her, and all for one night.

Well, it was one incredible night, but she wonders now if it was worth the radio silence. If she had just slept on the couch or tried to brave the storm, would Lenny still be in her life?

Mama and Papa are upstate at a wedding Mama matched. The kids are with Joel and Mei. So tonight, Midge has a date with a bottle of wine and a quiet phone.

Which is already ringing when she walks into the apartment.

She drops her bag unceremoniously by the door and rushes to the living room. She feels ridiculous. The odds of it being him are slim to none. But if it is him, and she misses it...

“Hello?”

“Christ, is your elevator broken? Why are you out of breath?”

She laughs, a combination of genuine humor and sheer relief. Finally, after weeks, she’s hearing his voice. “I thought the call might be important, and it was already ringing when I got inside,” she answers.

“Nope. Just an old jailbird calling for a chat,” he quips.

“From which precinct?”

“Actually I’m calling from my mother’s house. If it weren’t for my kid being here, I’d actually prefer Varick.”

“Better than the eighth, I hear,” she replies with a grin.

“You haven’t had the pleasure yet?”

“Nope. I’ve been a very good girl since you last saw me.” She hears him chuckle and then says, “So your mother’s house? Bellmore?”

“Uh, no,” he answers. “She moved to Los Angeles a few years ago, so I’ve been hiding from the sun for the last six weeks.”

“Los Angeles,” she repeats, trying to hide her sadness. “That’s far.”

“It is,” he agrees. “But I’m headed back for the east coast in a few days, and I was thinking...”

Midge bites her lip as she smiles. “Yes?”

“If you’re not too angry with me for yelling at you and then disappearing...”

“Yes?” She repeats. Just say it already, she thinks.

“Maybe I could take you to dinner?” He finally asks.

Her smile grows wider. “I would love that. When do you get back?”

“If I don’t tell you, I can still surprise you with one of my patented sneak attacks,” he points out.

Midge purses her lips for a moment, debating whether or not to pull out the big guns. "Well, if you do tell me, I can be sure to wear a show corset in your favorite color.”

There’s a long pause, and he finally answers, “Friday. Sometime in the afternoon.”

She grins. “I have a gig Friday. I’m working again.”

“I heard. And I hear you’re very, very funny.”

Midge feels herself blush. “I’m on at eight. Dinner after?”

“It’s a date.”

She smiles again. She has the feeling it’s going to be a pretty permanent state for her for a while. “Yes, it is.”

[floridensis]

a couple years ago my inaturalist friend sent me a huge list of birds that hadnt yet been observed on inaturalist in my county but should be there and gave me the mission to observe as many of them as possible that migration season so there would finally be records

i had never fixated so hard on warblers in my life and dont think i ever will again. but i was killing it. so many birds i was the first to post in the county. so one day my aunts took my sister and i out to see a show and afterward i was like hey we are super close to this cemetery that for whatever reason is like a locally famous birding spot and im on a quest so can we stop there? and theyre like yeah we love cemeteries we would love to go

they had fun walking the grounds, found some famous people. i was having a great time with those tiny birds. i got one i knew for sure was on my list but was not aware that someone beat me to the day before, oh well! eventually we decide to wrap it up and go home, when i walk under a tree and hear a loud rustling above. i look up and see something absolutely massive up there. it took me a while to process - raccoon?? bird??? what??? and when i did i lost my fucking mind. it was a white crowned pigeon, which does not (currently) live this far north. theyre incredibly beautiful birds, ive longed to see one, but in florida are only really in the keys and miami and even then are pretty rare from my understanding. this bird was a total fluke and i just happened to by total chance have been at the exact right place at the exact right time to see it. i could have cried.

that wasnt one of the birds my friend expected me to get as a first county record, but holy shit no other bird i got during that season could possibly top that one. and it was indeed a first inaturalist record for the county! my quest was successful in ways i could not have possibly predicted

i cannot tell you how long i was running off of that excitement

i also had no idea how fucking huge they were. i thought it would be the size of a common pigeon

[swan-orpheus]

andor ep. 7 incoherence

How does this freaking show just keep getting better, holy $%^&. This is not a question. There is so much to unpack. I did not see the twist where Cassian is minding his own business on Space Miami Beach (wtf kind of name is Keef??) and he gets randomly arrested for not doing anything, but well being himself. Racial profiling lol. Fuck the Empire. Now we know how he winds up in prison again. From six months to six years?? This episode was so much. 

Vel worried about Cinta who is trying to hide from the big ass star destroyer and Kleya being brutal about the compromises they have to make. “They’ll all be remembered.” Mon Mothma and her childhood friend, Tay who is obviously so DONE with the Empire and thinks that his old friend has changed, living it up in high society in the spotlight and loving it only to find out....it’s all a lie. The drama. All of the times that Mon reminds him to “Smile”. You need to leave Perrin and run away with him lmfao, not going to lie, I found them oddly adorable. 

Luthen smiling constantly and being all, “that’s right, people died and more will die, isn’t this monk cudgel excellently crafted? *smiles*” I really hope that her driver is secretly on her side and helps her in future. Chandrilans unite against the Empire!  Palps name drop. Gave me chills. It’s better that we only hear whispers of him. Makes it all the more creepy imo.

Senator Mon “I’ve learned from Palpatine.” Mothma

(she did not refer to him as “Emperor”, good for her.)

Coruscant continues to look its incredible, beautiful, brutalist self! 

Syril tailoring the collar on his brown suit to be high like an Imperial uniform.

DEDRA WRECKED BLEVIN!!! I had a feeling that Major Partagaz privately admired her. Blevin had such a sour look on his face. Dedra just flat out said, “Yes. I totally broke the rules. Deal with it.” Blevin is totally playing so close to the rules probably out of fear of being discriminated against and Dedra is the overachieving student for similar reasons and the Empire has them pitted against one another. I love the dynamics always at work in this show. It’s cruelly accurate. 

How cute is it that Cassian would sneak over the wall to see Bix when they were younger? They were that young couple.

And poor Maarva so freaking traumatized by what the Republic did that she can’t walk down past the square on Rix Road and not see her husband hanging? But then she hears about the heist and is all, “I may be old but FUCK IT. I’m gonna LIVE!” and just strolls down the road SMILING. All of the various meanings of a smile in this episode. WOW. Cassian! I know you are trying to keep her safe but aflkjalfalfll;; you are one of the reasons that that heist even succeeded at all, she was standing inches from the reason that the Rebellion has a snowball’s chance in hell and she doesn’t even KNOW. 

“Stop searching for your sister. It’s a fantasy.”  ;___________;

The KX Series droid repeating the word “hang” as he is choking Cassian. And it ends with Syril working in a horribly dystopian, futuristic cubical farm, slow pan so that we can witness the full scope of the horror. (He works in Fuel Purity, I have thoughts.) 

All the ways in which this episode contrasted action versus inaction, being peaceful versus being aggressive and the consequences of both depending on who and what you are within the Empire. You can do nothing or be a pacifist and still get %^&*ed over and murdered for it. CLEM. </3

This show went so hard. I love it all the more.  

Also, ADMIRAL YULAREN HAS LOGGED TF ON !!!!!!!!! He is so sinister if you are used to how cordial he is with Thrawn and Faro et al.  My SW Novel reading arse is so happy right now! 

THIS SHOW.