#if one of my students told me about this episode i would ask them if anyone ever made them uncomfortable like granny jojo?

[diamondnokouzai]

'hi kids! if an older relative has ever done something with you that makes you feel uncomfortable, maybe something involving them kissing you, then make sure you REPRESS THAT. DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. GO TO YOUR HAPPY PLACE. YOU SHOULD HAVE TO GO THROUGH SOMETHING TERRIBLE AND DISGUSTING AND FILTHY TO FIND YOUR HAPPY PLACE. YOU SHOULD LITERALLY FEEL LIKE THE SCUM BETWEEN YOUR TOES IN ORDER TO FORGET. have a good episode!'

[httpsserene]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫 '𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐰𝐨 | 𝐬𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐜𝐬. 𝟓𝟓 & 𝐥𝐧. 𝟒

summary: have you worked every shift possible for a chance of running into carlos and lando? yes. are you mad that you have a month of summer left and you still haven’t stumbled upon them? yes.

content warning: 18+. mdni. explicit sexual content. plot with porn. summer fling/vacation romance. fluff. light angst. light angst with a happy ending. banter. attempt at humor. explicit language. for extended tags, open in ao3.

pairing: poly! carlos sainz jr x lando norris x phd-student! fem!black!reader

word count: 18k words. (new record!)

from, serene: i am extremely proud of what i created. i hope it was worth waiting for, and i can't wait for the next episode !!! my next upload might be an alex albon smau series, for those that requested it. pls pls pls, send me asks and leave comments on this if you'd like! i'd love to hear your thoughts on sip of sunshine, and how it's building so far xxx thank you so much, my loves :) (50 more followers until 3k :o)

this has also been uploaded on my AO3 for anybody who finds it easier to read a fic of this length on there (looking out for those on mobile x)

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Studying for a doctorate does not directly correlate to a person’s brilliance. If you were smart, you wouldn’t have returned to the golf club for another summer with the sole hope of reuniting with the two stunningly fine men you shared a ten-minute conversation with. However, you chose to beat intelligence in a foot race, and here you are: driving the same beverage cart while sweating off your sunscreen for the fifth year in a row; furthermore, you have not crossed paths with Carlos and Lando once in the two months you’ve been working.

It’s difficult to believe that Lando had told the truth when he mentioned that they’ve been attending Club La Moraleja consistently for the past four years. You want to believe him, but the evidence against him is overwhelming. You’ve worked every possible shift this season, at every possible time, on every possible course, without a single spotting of the duo from the beginning of June. 

It’s August. If you allow yourself to think maniacally, you would infer that they’re avoiding you on purpose.

Previously, you were under the assumption that they were obviously flirting with you. The sexual innuendos, double-entendres, calling you a “sip of sunshine,” and the eighty euro tip Carlos left you (which had to be a mistake)—from which you deduced that they were making a move on you. You would even say that their instance in convincing you to return to the green was the smoking gun you needed to seal their fate in the case of you catching their interest. 

Nonetheless, they are nowhere to be found. 

You cope by entertaining the aspect of you suffering from heat stroke or heat exhaustion, and you created Carlos and Lando as a figment of your delusions during your compromised mental state. On the other hand, there’s also a chance that they took your joking threat—of never returning if you had to put up with their subpar pick-up lines—seriously. You didn’t consider that they would misunderstand your teasing banter but, you haven’t seen them a single time this summer.  

It’s unsettling. You’ve never been this disappointed about men not taking the clear hint. 

Obviously, you’d be relieved if any of the sleazy, rude, and archaic golfers stopped bothering you after their first attempt. But, Carlos and Lando? They’re the exact opposite of the men you described. They’re young, polite, funny, charming, and attractive. It’s not outlandish for you to say that there was some budding chemistry between you three.

It’s regrettably characteristic of you to develop crushes on men you haven’t shared more than one conversation with. Too bad you’re never going to see them again. And, screw them! Who do they think they are? It’s not like they’re anybody special—they probably delighted in filling your mind with false hope. 

The next time you see them, you’re running them over with the bev cart. All gas, no breaks.

The motor whirs loudly as you drive over a hill to the last hole of Course Four—and, you’ll be damned.

“Well, look at you! You stayed!”

You can’t tell if this is the universe blessing you or sending you a curse in disguise. 

Lando’s words ring in your ears as your brain fails to compute the sight of him and Carlos smiling at you from across the green, down in a bunker. 

Lando’s…matured beautifully, over the year you haven’t seen him. He was attractive before, but as you direct the cart closer, you can tell he’s grown into himself. There’s a broadness to his shoulders, a sharpness to his eyes, and a hollowness to his cheekbones that certainly makes it impossible for anybody to deny that he’s beautiful. 

Carlos is angeringly more handsome than he was before, somehow. You blame it on the backwards cap and his stupidly wide, warm, beautiful, brown eyes. You cut the engine off, scratching fiendishly at the back of your neck to dispel your thoughts about his nose and lips, how you would pay to see his brown eyes darkened between your thighs.

“Obviously,” you state dryly, roughly tucking the curls that slipped from your ponytail behind your ear, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Their grins falter at your biting tone and they glance at each other in surprise at your irritated response. They climb out of the bunker and walk to meet you at the side of the cart. You’ve turned your back to them, hearing their footsteps approach but you continue to mindlessly organize any cups that shifted out of place as you drove.

“It was just an observation,” the Brit continues, you can hear him still smiling around his words, “A conversation starter, I guess.”

You put on an impassive expression before turning around and staring at the two with your arms crossed, “Mm. Who’s the one who’s bad enough at golf to land in the bunker? Wait—don’t tell me! You’re both probably stuck in the sand trap.” 

Lando’s mouth audibly drops open with an insulted gasp and Carlos’s brow furrows in confusion.

You wave a dismissive hand through the air before they can reply, “What do you want to drink?”

“Uh…What?” Carlos fumbles, lost at your deviation.

“What, ‘what?’” You snap, annoyed at his feigned innocence, like he’s unaware that they lead you on for the entirety of a summer that they just appeared in, “What do you want to drink? As in a refreshment? ¿Una bebida? I know you’re familiar with ordering from the cart as I served you last year—and since you both have been coming here for five years!” [A drink?]

The two stare at you in blatant terror as your voice echoes in the air. Their stunned silence at your “unfounded” anger only serves to exasperate you further.

“Make it quick,” your voice trembles infuriatingly, “What would you like to drink?”

“Did we do something wrong? If we upset you, we have no idea what we did,” Carlos rambles pleadingly. You almost buy it.

“Yeah, what’s with the attitude?” Lando gracefully ruins their chances of being acquitted, “We haven’t seen you in nearly a year; What could we have done wrong?”

“Attitude—are you serious!?” You scoff, insulted at the very idea, before continuing mockingly “Whatever—it’s a beer and a lime mocktail, right? Or, would you prefer a sip of sunshine?”

The men don’t have a chance to edit their orders as you sharply throw open the beer cooler, all three of you flinching as the lid slams into the cart and the bottles and cans clamoring together worryingly. You don’t let the fear of damaged property interrupt your fury as you brandish the beer towards Carlos, snatching your hand away as soon as his closes around the neck of the bottle. 

He murmurs his thanks in his native tongue but the curl of his accent—no matter how alluring it sounds—incenses you further, and you huffily turn your back towards them as you craft Lando’s drink.

The thought of them being truthful about their confusion about your annoyance flares in your mind as you shovel ice into the plastic cup. It’s possible that there has been some miscommunication…but, that would be embarrassing for you to admit. You’ve already acted incredibly rude and like a total brat to them—to customers, at that! Ohmygod, you’ve let your personal emotions affect your work; they could report you to your manager and have you fired. 

Your breath stutters as your overcome with a chill that feels like you’ve dumped ice down your own shirt. The drink is quickly assembled, and you find yourself wishing for a painless death as you fasten an orange slice as garnish on the rim of the cup instead of a lime. A slice of sunshine, if you will.

Meekly, this time around, you offer the cup to Lando. He looks increasingly disturbed at the sudden switch of your demeanor. You watch the Brit glance at his companion, his look clearly communicating that he’s checking if Carlos agrees that you’ve lost your mind, most likely.

The Spaniard must have agreed because Lando giggles nervously, the sound glaringly revealing his discomfort, “You didn’t poison my drink, did you?”

Your brain starts to self-destruct in embarrassment. Carlos hides his face in his free hand, but the sound of pain that escapes him at the ill-timed joke is clear. To be fair, Lando looked like he regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth, but the damage was done. 

Your cheeks burn furiously, you’re simultaneously angry and disappointed in yourself. How could you allow yourself to become overrun by your emotions on the clock? It’s unprofessional and uncharacteristic of you. 

You excuse yourself shakily, “I-I am so sorry. Perdóname. I was rude to you both for no reason. I apologize sincerely for my behavior. Do not worry about paying, your drinks are on me. I hope you both enjoy yourself on the green—Buenas tardes.” [Forgive me; Good afternoon.]

Carlos and Lando are silent as you scamper into the driver’s seat, tail figuratively tucked between your legs. The ride back to the clubhouse is silent as you berate yourself for your stupidity. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to forget the way you ruined your chances with them. You already know your subconscious will play this on repeat every time you try to sleep. The cart beeps as you reverse into its assigned spot. Isabel, one of the fellow cart girls—and your best friend—waves at you with a smile as she walks over towards you. She must be the next on shift.

“You look like you’ve just been fired,” Isa’s smile has transformed into a look of concern, “¿Estás bien?” [Are you okay?]

Grabbing your belongings, you slide out of the driver's seat with a haunted look in your eyes. “You remember the two guys I told you about? From last summer? I think I just scared them away.”

“No,” Isa exhales in denial, pulling you into a hug, “There’s no way. What happened?”

“I yelled at them and insulted them for being bad at golf,” you mumble, yelping sharply as she  communicates her displeasure by slapping at your arm, “I was mad at them, okay! They were pretending to be innocent, like they had no clue they avoided me for the entire summer! They’re going to complain to the Club and get me fired because I was unprofessional and rude!”

“Ay! You don’t know that! You still served them, and apologized right?” Isa brightens further when you mention you served them for free, she ignores your pout as you rub your hand against the stinging skin of your bicep, “Then, it’s probably nothing. If they do complain, this is your first complaint ever. You won’t get fired—you will just have to wash the carts for the rest of the summer.”

You fall to your knees on the hot concrete in despair and Isa snorts at your dramatics, bending to pluck the cart keys from your pocket. 

“I’m just going to quit, inmediamente!” [Immediately!]

“If you quit, I quit,” Isa reminds you, “And, out of the two of us, I need this job. I’m broke. So, you can’t quit, unless you want me to suffer.”

“I would take care of you,” you beg, “I have my office job back in the States. You could marry me and get a green card! Let me quit!”

Isa cackles at the concept, “You hate your office job. Anyway, quitting won’t save you from your colleagues here. Don’t forget we’re all going out tomorrow night! You can’t escape this time, you promised me.”

You groan in indignation, “Is it a crime to not like clubbing every night?”

“¡Sí, lo es!,” She frowns, “It’s clubbing every night in Madrid! And, I need moral support if I have to watch Lucas flirt with Sofia. I don’t know what he sees in her.” [Yes, it is!]

Grumbling fitfully, you wish her a good shift before dragging yourself into the Clubhouse. You’re still quitting. There’s not a chance in hell that you’re coming back next summer—there is nothing worth staying for anymore. Sorry, Isa.

Out of all the shifts you’ve worked, the 8 A.M. to 3 P.M. is your least favorite. You blink blearily as you hang up your belongings in the same locker you chose four years ago, fighting the urge to rub at your eyes, with the thought of not smearing your mascara. Pinning your nametag on your pressed shirt is muscle memory, and you slide on a club-branded visor to protect your face because the UV index is concerningly high today. 

You pause to stare at the photos pinned to the inside of your locker door—they date from your very first summer till now, with familiar faces and some you haven’t seen in a while. It’s heartwarming. You haven’t posted a single one of these photos in here; your friends do it on their own (the password to your locker is apparently community knowledge—you could change it, but then you’d stop collecting them), taping Polaroids from moments on the course to shenanigans off the course to nights out in the city, with captions and notes written on the back. 

The sense of belonging and community you found here is why it was so difficult to come to a decision about leaving this place and its people behind. Your lips tilt up at a photo of you and the cart team covering your boss’s car in sticky notes two summers ago—he made you all collect the stray golf balls from the putting green that night in retaliation. And, he laughed deeply as the sprinklers drenched all of you, which is another few snapshots commemorated in your locker. 

You don’t think you’ll ever be able to leave.

“Mami,” Lilia, the receptionist on duty this morning, calls you from the locker room door, “The two really hot Formula One drivers are asking for you?”

You shoot a look of confusion her way, “huh—why me? I don’t know them?”

“Umm, yes you do?” Lilia mirrors your bafflement, “They say you’ve served them before. And that they want to apologize for something?”

“¿Qué?”

“I don’t know! I’m just repeating what they told me—” The brunette woman cuts herself short, and her eyes narrow after a moment, “Hey, if they’re bothering you, I’ll get them banned. I didn’t tell them that you were here, I just said I’d check to see if you had come in. Did they bother you? Don’t lie to me! I’ll call security and get them gone!”

“What, no! I don’t know them, or even know what Formula One is! I haven’t had a bad interaction or served any drivers—oh.” Your stomach sinks as your eyes shut woefully, “I fucked up.”

Lilia threatens to get them banned again when she sees the bronze skin of your face lose its luster. You tell her to let them know you’ll be out in a moment and to not threaten them. You step to the full-length mirror to check your appearance and adjust your uniform. Centering yourself with a few deep breaths, you turn the door handle and make your way out to the reception desk.

The squeaking of your sneakers on the tile floor only adds to your anticipation. A small part of you hopes that Carlos and Lando aren’t the Formula One drivers asking for you, and that this is all some misunderstanding. You feel your soul die inside of you as your eyes meet theirs. Their expressions look determined and apologetic, and your palms feel sweaty as you come to terms with them preparing to file a formal complaint. 

Lilia clears her throat abruptly from where she’s pretending to organize membership files. You see a blush bloom on Carlos and Lando’s cheeks as they realize that they’ve been staring at you without saying anything for longer than what’s politely appropriate, but you beat them to the chase.

“Buenos días. U-umm,” you anxiously scratch at the nape of your neck, “…Is this about yesterday? Or the tip you left last summer? It was too generous to not be an accident. It’s past our refund period, but I can reach out to the manager on duty to see if we can work something out.” [Good morning.]

“I gave you eighty euros on purpose,” Carlos states without doubt, and you feel Lilia’s stare piercing your side profile.

“Oh.”

“I wanted to speak to you about yesterday—”

You cut in, “Yesterday was my fault! I think I misunderstood you both and I overreacted. It was nothing personal—”

Lando clasps his hands together, interrupting you with an imploring tone, “It was personal, though. Which is fine, I think we deserved it. Especially if there was a misunderstanding on our part. We would’ve communicated with you clearer if we were sure that you were on the same page as us. We would appreciate it if you would allow us to make it up to you.”

Lilia kicks your ankle underneath the desk, doing enough freaking out for the both of you as you struggle to keep your face calm.

“I feel like I’m still the one at fault for the miscommunication. But—how were you planning to…smooth things over, I guess?” You ask.

“Allow us to take you to dinner tonight, and explain,” Carlos finishes, weaponizing those eyes of his, helped by Lando softening his own at you desperately for a chance.

“Oh—um, I would love to, really, but I already have plans tonight—,” You’re getting tired of being interrupted, but Lilia is quick to clear your schedule.

“No!” The raven-haired woman jumps up from her seat, slapping her hand on the counter forcefully, causing the three of you to jump. “She’s free tonight!” She smiles scaringly wide at Carlos and Lando.

Lilia turns to you and her smile and voice quiets to something genuine, “I will explain to the others about why you could not make it. Isa will understand as long as you remember to keep us both updated, yes?”

You roll your eyes, resigned , “Yes.”

You’re surprised at the tentative happiness growing in the boys’ appearances, “I guess I can do dinner tonight. What’s the plan?”

Phone numbers are exchanged and they agree to pick you up from your house at seven. They linger through their goodbyes, clearly not wanting to end the conversation. It’s flattering that they're willingly exposing their obsession with you so soon. You shoo them away with the reminder of seeing each other tonight and the fact that you are, in fact, on the clock. Lilia slaps you on the arm repeatedly as you watch them exit through the front doors with a dreamy sigh.

As soon as the door closes behind them, Lilia lets out a scream of excitement and pulls you into a hug, the two of you jumping up and down overwhelmed with joy. You’re caught by your boss Marco, who takes one glance before he turns around to head back into his office, forcing the two of you into hysterical giggles. 

You pull back from her, and you can’t quiet the large grin dancing on your lips, “I have no idea what to wear!”

Carlos texted you twenty minutes ago alerting you that they’re on the way to pick you up. Lando added that they can’t wait to see you a minute later. You were ready thirty minutes before they started heading your way. Ten minutes ago you decided to change your entire outfit. You settled on a linen cropped tank and matching maxi skirt with a pair of sandals. You fiddle with your accessories endlessly, and you do the same with a few stray curls that refuse to sit where you want them.

Grabbing your purse and phone, you rush out of your room and down the stairs to find your parents in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to their own dinner.

“¡Mija—qué bonita!” your mom gasps, wiping her hands on a towel before she pulls you closer to look at you, “Where have you been hiding this outfit?” [My daughter, how beautiful she is!]

“Má, I’ve had it for a while,” you subject yourself to her cooing and prodding as she spins you around, looking at your dad for help, who only offers you a shrug, “—I just have not had anywhere to wear it.”

“Hm? Then, what’s so special about tonight? I thought you were clubbing with your friends, no?” You avoid meeting her prying eyes, pretending to find interest in what’s simmering on the stove.

“Eh, why is there a Ferrari outside of my house?” your dad asks, drawing your attention to the front window. The sleek black convertible is parked by the curb, and your phone buzzes in your hands. Lando has informed you of their arrival, and you quickly tell them you’ll be right out to avoid them coming to the door. You don’t know if they’re “meet the parents” caliber yet, Ferrari or not.

“Don’t worry about it, Papà. I’ll text you when I’m on my way back tonight,” you press kisses to both of your parents’ cheeks, “Save some food for me to take to work tomorrow, please?”

Your mom pinches your ear, “Ay! You are going on a date? Finally! Is he handsome on top of being rich? A Ferrari is okay as long as he is as beautiful as the car, you know?”

Your dad makes a noise of complaint as he follows you both towards the door, “A Ferrari is more than okay as long as he respects you and treats you well. And, if he buys me a Ferrari too—ask him for me.” 

You fuss at them, flustered but smug as you ignore your dad’s request, and you turn to smirk at your mom, “Papà, I plan to find outfit they treat me well tonight. Mamá. They’re both gorgeous.”

Your dad blinks in confusion as your mom crows in delight, “¡Mija! I knew I raised you properly! ¡Vas, vas! Have fun and you have to tell me everything when you get back, yes?” [My girl!; Go, go!]

“Sí, Mamá. ¡Muchos besos, te quiero!” You slip out of the door, the sound of your mother explaining that you’ve garnered the interest of two men to your father fading behind you as you walk to the car. [Yes, mom. Kisses, I love you!]

Carlos and Lando are waiting for you on the curb, the engine purring lowly behind them. Your gait slows as you near, and the Spaniard reaches out to press his lips to the back of your hand fleetingly. 

They’ve dressed well; Lando in a light gray, short-sleeved, collared, v-neck that rests untucked over white chinos and a pair of gray sneakers to match. He’s sprinkled with bracelets, a few of them decorate his toned forearms on both wrists, and there’s a singular silver chain peeking from the cut of his shirt. Carlos is dressed similarly with the white chinos, yet he’s chosen a light blue button-up with the first few buttons undone, and a pair of dress shoes. His outfit is complimented by a dazzling watch. 

You murmur a greeting to both men, unable to hold eye contact with either of them for long. It’s one thing to fantasize that you have a chance with men clearly out of your league, and it’s another thing to have to muster up the confidence to speak to them outside of your uniform. 

Lando impatiently shifts on his feet as the older man keeps hold of your hand for longer than necessary. When you’re released, Lando takes it a step further and pulls you into a hug, his body heated and solid against yours. A shiver runs down your spine when his hand rests on the exposed skin of the small of your back. You hum, pleased as you inhale the velvety scent of his cologne, missing the closeness as he pulls away from you a beat later.

You step back, your heart thudding as you quip, “I didn’t know we were on hugging terms already.”

“I’m sorry,” Lando flushes easily, and Carlos chuckles, “I should’ve asked if it was okay.”

“I liked it,” you smile at him, pretending as if your heart isn’t pounding forcefully from the brief embrace, “I-I mean, it was fine, don’t worry.”

The Brit hums at your response, his eyes drifting along your form before meeting yours again with a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. His blush recedes as yours strengthens, now apparent on your darker skin. 

“Lovely house,” he withdraws, and you’re thankful he avoided commenting on the evident flush he invoked with nothing more than a hug and a pass of his eyes.

“Thank you, my parents bought it and moved here after I started university,” you explain needlessly, “They’re pretty great. They were the ones who made me apply for the position at La Moraleja. So, really, it’s them you have to credit with us meeting, I suppose.”

“We also have to thank them for having a beautiful daughter,” Carlos alleges smoothly.

You fluster, “I-I’ll pass the message along. Both of you are very handsome, but I think you guys hear that often.”.

“Don’t worry. It sounds sweeter coming from you,” Lando edits his point with an impish grin, “—and from Carlos too, sometimes.”

“Don’t be a brat, Lando,” the Spaniard’s voice is light as he entertains the younger, “Unfortunately, I think we will be late if we continue to stand here and flirt in the street,” Carlos says, and his eyes shift to look past you and at your house, “—And, I think your dad might come outside and kill us. Which would not be very pleasant, in my opinion.”

You spin around, chagrined at the sight of your dad watching the three of you with a harsh stare. 

“Yes! Let’s get going, I would hate to be late. Ignore him, please.” Lando waves at your dad anyways, endearing himself to you further, “And, you won’t have to worry about being murdered as long as you get him a Ferrari.”

The two men startle into laughter at that, and you hold your hands up candidly, “What? His words, not mine!”

You didn’t account for the oddness of one of you sitting in the backseat, but Lando assigns himself to the back, claiming that you have “passenger princess” rights. 

The wind ruffles through your curls aimlessly as Carlos drives towards your destination. The ride is filled with endless chatter and flirting. A smile is constantly on your face as the three of you speak through topics easily. There’s not a single time you feel like an outsider, even though it’s clear how familiar they are with each other. 

The restaurant you find yourself in isn’t screaming its extravagance at you, which is surprising. While it’s dimly lit, and you can hear live music thrumming through the air from somewhere deeper inside over the lively chatter—it feels like a classic restaurant, intimate and comfortable. Like somewhere you could go for a nice dinner often.

The hostess straightens upwards with recognition when she spots Carlos and she greets the three of you good naturedly before disappearing to check if your table is ready. 

The Spaniard notices the surprise on your face, “My family and I have dined here since I was young. You have never come here before? ”

You shake your head, “I’m a little jealous, if I’m being honest,” Carlos tilts his head, listening, “I’m mad I didn’t discover this place sooner. The atmosphere is amazing!”

The hostess returns, gesturing for you all to follow after her and Lando grasps your hand to catch your attention as you walk, “If you think the vibe is amazing, just wait until you try the food.”

The table is not in direct sight of anyone besides the kitchen, clearly a spot meant for privacy. Your hidden behind a half wall and a screen overgrown with plants, and the volume of the restaurant seems quieter through the barrier. You lean back in your chair as the three of you wrap up the discussion about yesterday’s conflict.

“I feel incredibly stupid now,” you chuckle, embarrassed. The brown skin of your face burns hot. You focus on the empty wine glass in front of you, avoiding their eyes plainly.

“No,” Carlos’s voice is stern, the serious tone shocking you into looking at him, “Do not be rude to yourself—you are not stupid.”

You stare, dumbfounded, reeling as you process the manner in which he shut down your negative self-talk. If his words totally dissolved your mortification over your immature reaction to seeing them again, you might have thought harder about how that was kind of hot of him to do.

“Aren’t you studying for a PhD?” Lando asks rhetorically, “I think that literally means you’re not stupid.”

You scoff lightly—feeling humored instead of humiliated—at how easily he swept away the tension with a light-hearted comment. The Brit doesn’t know how many people have enlightened you with the knowledge that common sense is, unfortunately, uncommon in post-grad. But, you’ll let his words wash away your self-deprecation lest this turns into an unsolicited therapy session instead of a date an apology dinner.

“Fine. I’m not stupid—but, you can’t deny that it wasn’t a little dumb of me to assume that you guys had lied to me about visiting the golf club every year. And, it was a little more dumb of me to make my decision about working here for another season just because there was a chance that I could see you guys—never mind.” Your teeth clack together forcefully as you slam your mouth shut.

The duo straighten up at the sudden end to your sentence, brains quickly filling in the blanks for them. Lando’s poorly attempting to hide his satisfied smile behind his hand and Carlos’s eyes are bright with understanding. You’ve learned your lesson about making hasty assumptions but you don’t think it’s foolish to deduce this means that they’re actually interested in you too, this time around.

“Ah. Well, we should not have assumed that you knew we were Formula One drivers, which maybe was obvious from how you spoke to us,” Carlos shrugs his shoulders, leveling the blame, “And, I think it’s sweet that you were hoping to run into us again.”

“Mmm,” you hum nervously, “I think it’s delusional.”

One of their shoes knocks against yours underneath the table and you jump in surprise. Carlos’s chest shakes with a silent laugh and his eyebrow raises at you pressingly.

“We should’ve asked for your number last summer,” Lando adds nonchalantly. 

You rattle at his boldness, and you’re given a moment to ponder that as the waiter stops to pour you and Carlos a glass of white wine (Lando refused). You take a brief sip, humming pleasantly at the light and easy flavor, the live music and easy conversation floating through the air providing you a reprieve from your immersion in the two men. 

Your attention is recaptured as you watch Carlos offer Lando a chance to taste from his glass. 

Earlier, the Brit had told you he dislikes the taste of most alcohols when the waiter stepped away to grab the bottle Carlos requested. Yet, Lando accepts, not without making his distaste apparent with an adorable frown. He takes the tiniest sip possible with a look of apprehension and recoils from the glass as he swallows, his nose scrunching in disgust as he shakes his head to further sell his distate. 

Carlos rolls his eyes and laughs, revealing to you how used he is to Lando’s dramatics. He raises a hand to rub at the short hair on the nape of the younger’s neck in comfort.

The look on your face must be cloyingly sweet if the light dust of pink that rises to the Brit’s cheeks when he realizes you’ve watched the entire interaction, is meaningful. Carlos’s eyes become intense when he spots how Lando curls into himself shyly under your eyes. The Spaniard whispers, his volume low enough for only Lando to hear and you wish you knew exactly what was said, because it deepens the tint of his cheeks to a furious red. 

You figure you’ll save him from his torment by bringing up the important stuff.

“So, you only have a month of summer vacation,” you start, fingers fiddling with the edge of a fan-folded napkin, “Which is in August. That’s…so short. My fall semester starts the first week of September.”

Silence falls as they digest the underlying meaning of your sentence. Is it in everyone’s best interest to start something that has to end so soon? Is it in your best interest to risk catching feelings for two athletes (celebrity-athletes, at that) during the last month of your break? 

“A month is a long time,” the younger man starts, his blue-green eyes intent, “We’ll just have to make the most out of it, right? I want to get to know you more, and I have a feeling that the three of us will have a fun time together—If you want to give it a try.”

“A ‘fun time’? Like—like a fling?” Your expression remains indifferent as you ask. You need them to clarify what they want out of this without revealing your emotions. It’s only proper for you to prevent any future miscommunication or misunderstanding about this; you learned from your earlier mistake.

Lando’s earnest gaze has lost some of its shine, and Carlos’s eyes now seem guarded.

“Calling it a fling is harsh,” the Spaniard responds, “It’s more of a summer romance, no?”

Your laugh isn’t genuine, but they don’t know you well enough to discern that, “Alright, I’ll give our ‘summer romance’ a chance. Using a synonym doesn’t change the definition, you know?” 

Lando cocks his head at you, staring deeply. It feels like he’s trying to puzzle you out, and you stare back in feigned confusion.

“It’s nothing,” He relaxes, leaning back in his chair and moving Carlos’s glass out of the way as he sees the waiter nearing the table with your appetizers, “I just find it odd that you called yourself stupid earlier.” You don’t know what to make of that, but it’s forgotten as the starters are devoured and the conversation shifts into them getting to know you and vice versa.

The older man with them at the golf course last year was Carlos’s father, who is a two-time Rally World Champion. You’re surprised to learn that they’ve only been dating for around a year. Lando says he developed a crush on Carlos when they were teammates at Mclaren, but he was afraid of ruining their relationship and potentially, his career, if he confessed–so he kept quiet. Carlos didn’t realize he was romantically interested in Lando until he signed his contract with Ferrari. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” you interrupt, “If you guys have only been together for a year, did you get together before or after you saw me at the golf course for the first time?”

“A year and three months,” the Spaniard corrects with a serene smile, “Our anniversary was in May.”

The Brit continues for him, “—Which means we started dating about three months before we saw you. Give or take a few weeks.”

You gave a low whistle of surprise—three months into their relationship and they were on the same page about chasing after you. Since then, they had several serious conversations about adding a third to their relationship but hadn’t found or looked for anybody they’d consider to try with. Besides you.

Obviously, they like playing golf; Lando is abysmal, and Carlos is not bad at it. Carlos has two sisters, Lando has a brother and two sisters. Both of them are middle children. Lando is a picky eater, and hates fish and seafood. Carlos will eat anything Lando doesn’t. Lando founded a company with his best friend. Carlos is a Real Madrid fanatic. Lando occasionally streams on Twitch. Carlos enjoys surfing and cycling.

“I’m sorry for saying that you guys sucked at golf yesterday,” you apologize sheepishly.

“It’s okay,” the Brit says, unperturbed, “I do suck at golf. I just wasn’t expecting to hear it come from you.”

“I suck less at golf,” the older man states, “But, if I was good, I would not have been in the sand pit in the first place, no?”

They visit Spain often because family is important to Carlos. Lando’s loved like another son by Carlos’s family and Carlos is loved the same by Lando’s family. Lando is needy. Carlos likes being needed. Carlos is mildly possessive. Lando is too self-critical. Carlos makes the best pancakes. Lando wants to build a beautiful vintage car collection.

They want to see you again. You enjoyed dinner more than you thought was possible. 

They defrosted your nerves and allowed your personality to shine through. It helps that they were actively listening as you complained and gushed over your studies, told anecdotes of the shenanigans you and the others got up to on the golf course, and spoke about your future outlooks. They didn’t mind your lack of knowledge about Formula One and explained the sport in detail to you. They were determined to figure out what made you mad, what made you happy, what made you laugh, what made you shy—and, what made you go pink.

It didn’t take them long to discern that staring at your lips is the trick. When they made that discovery, they weaponized it the entire night. While one of them played with the rings on your fingers or tucked a curl behind your ear, the other managed to fluster you by letting their eyes wander for a few seconds before meeting yours again with increasing intensity. You experienced heart failure several times, and had to ask them to repeat themselves more frequently thanks to their psychological warfare.

Your heart feels like it may cease to function again as they walk you to your doorstep. The lights inside the house are off, you returned later than you thought you would. Your parents left the porch light on for you and it casts an amber warmth. Carlos and Lando don’t invite themselves into your space as you dig your house keys out of your purse, ever the polite men. The sound of your keys jingling harmonizes with your triumphant hum as you pull them out. 

You face the boys, placing your hand on the doorknob behind you, waiting for them to speak. 

“Are we forgiven for unintentionally leading you to believe that we led you on and wasted your time?” Lando blurts out.

You knock your head back against the doorframe, abashed, shutting your eyes to dispel the HD playback your brain gifts you with. “If you both agree to never bring it up again, I’ll forgive you.”

“I suddenly do not know what we’re talking about,” Carlos nods seriously, and Lando echoes the sentiment.

You release the doorknob and take the few steps towards them. As you expected, their eyes simultaneously drift to stare at your mouth. You lightly place a hand on Carlos’s shoulder before leaning up and brushing your lips across his cheek in the lightest ghost of a kiss, before moving to Lando and doing the same.

You carefully backpedal to the door turning to insert your key into the lock, before you look back at them. Your heart flutters at the sight of Carlos, who’s frozen, standing all wide-eyed and pressing his fingers to his cheek like he’s unsure if he imagined the kiss. Lando however, looks hungry. His eyes are the darkest you’ve seen tonight, and they’re locked on how you teasingly flick your tongue across your bottom lip.

“While we may only have a month to spend together—it doesn’t mean I’m easy. I, at least!—need a second date before I let you do anything more than stare at my lips and hold my hand. It might take three dates before I even let you kiss my cheek,” you tease with a joking shrug of your shoulders.

“It’s a good thing that you have my phone number,” the lock clicks open, and you push the door open, “If you don’t use it to set up another date, I think I’ll have no choice but to never forgive you guys.”

“We’ll be using it,” Carlos asserts, recovered from the daze you left him in.

“Hm, good. Text me when you get home.” You step in your entryway, waving your fingers at the two of them leisurely, “Buenas noches.” [Goodnight.]

They mimic your goodbye and you shut the door, clicking the lock. You nosily peek through the peephole to spy on their reactions. Carlos tugs Lando into a bear hug, their wide smiles hidden as they press into each other and the sharpest pitch squeal you’ve heard from Lando travels through the front door. You cover your own giggle with a hand as you watch the two of them kiss and almost skip down your driveway back to the car. You press your back to the door with a deep sigh, a lovestruck smile painting your face while you lay limp to let your heartbeat slow to a normal speed.

The hallway light flicks on and you shriek as your mom stares at you with a deranged smile on her lips, “Tell me everything!”

“Mamá! What are you doing up? It’s late!” You exclaim, straightening upwards with your hands on your hips, failing at distracting her from how you were weak in the knees a couple of seconds ago. “It’s okay, mija! I’ll start a fresh pot of coffee for us and you can tell me all about your date!” She rushes forward, grabbing your hand to pull you into the kitchen.

Ironically, the second date ends up being late night mini golf. Even better, you destroy them at it. It wasn’t an easy feat, they made plenty of attempts to sabotage and distract you; whether it was yelling, spooking, poking, or prodding at you as you readied your putt, but it wasn’t enough to give them a chance of catching up. 

You figure more of your mistakes were from being unable to stop laughing as the two performed atrociously. Carlos ended up polluting every water feature with golf balls and Lando couldn’t manage to finish a single hole in under 8 strokes—the highest par was 6. You patted Lando on the back consolingly, telling him to find comfort in the fact that they’re equally terrible at putt-putt golf.

The two seemed surprised at your finesse with a club, almost like they’d forgotten you work on a golf course. You may not be a caddy, but you’ve had plenty of time to work on perfecting your technique. You did well enough to place sixth on the leaderboard, the employees said that Carlos’ score might be the worst they’ve ever seen.

With their egos severely bruised, you convinced them to soothe the loss over with ice cream at a neighboring parlor. Lando was satisfied with plain vanilla and Carlos with a scoop of dulce de leche. You elected for cookies and cream, but found yourself being fed their flavors as well. 

The sugary treats were delicious. Watching them stare at your lips pursed around a spoonful of ice cream was far more delectable. Lando broke the fourth time you managed to dot a bit of vanilla above your upper lip. He choked on a whine before leaning into your space. He hesitated a hair’s width away from your lips, his shuddering exhales mixing with yours, his eyes searching for approval. Your eyes fluttered shut and Lando closed the gap. 

His lips were soft and chilled, a result of the ice cream. Warmth blossomed in your chest as you leaned into the kiss, the taste of vanilla lingering in the embrace. His hand raised to cradle your cheek as your lips brushed together languidly, the sound of your heart racing within your chest fading out as you become absorbed by the kiss. 

Lando pulls away, falling back into his seat with his chest heaving. You stare after him with wide eyes, jolting out of it when you notice you’ve dropped your spoon into your lap, Carlos’s dulce de leche ice cream spilling onto your thigh. 

“Do I get to lick this off your thigh since Lando got to kiss it off your lips?” Carlos asks, his tone half genuine, half facetious.

You kick at his ankle underneath the booth and he throws his hands up placatingly. 

“Wait–,” you anxiously flit your eyes around the parlor, “—you shouldn’t have kissed me here Lando. Out in public? Aren’t people going to recognize—”

“We’ve been the only people in here for the past thirty minutes or so,” Lando interrupts, gathering the near-empty dishes and balled-up napkins, “They’ve also been closed for twenty minutes. When you went to the bathroom when we came in, Carlos and I signed something for the owner who was more than happy to keep things quiet for his second favorite Spanish Formula One driver.”

“Second favorite?” Carlos furrows his eyebrows at his boyfriend, his umber eyes adorably confused.

“Mate,” the Brit scoffs, “I might be in love with you ‘n all but we're not going to act like Fernando isn’t the best thing that came out of Spain, besides churros.”

The unfavored Spaniard holds his hand to his chest in betrayal before his eyes narrow and he moves to assault Lando with a pinch to his chest. While you’d love to continue watching this disguised act of foreplay, you would rather be a participant than a voyeur.

“¡Cabrónes!” The two freeze, heads snapping to look at you as your voice cuts through the catfight.

“I think the owner would be even happier if you licked the ice cream off my thigh outside of his parlor so he could finally lock up, sí?”

How Lando kisses with a desperate hunger, Carlos kisses with a ravaging heat. Like he wants to roast your nerve endings with every brush of his lips against yours.

The fiery press of his mouth stokes the arousal building in your navel. His hand tangles in your hair as he directs the tilt of your head. A stuttered whimper slips from your mouth into his as your tongues glide together, a buzzing sensation tingling down your spine as his other hand squeezes your waist tightly.

He walks you backward towards the bed, his lips devouring yours as you wrap your arms around his neck, attempting to pull your bodies even closer than they are. You stumble, gasping when his hand palms your ass and it’s the first time your lips have separated since Carlos claimed them in the hallway.  He tumbles into you as his feet stumble around yours, the darkness of the bedroom not bettering the situation. He nearly sends you both to the floor instead of the plush mattress if not for Lando catching your body and a hand firmly pressed to Carlos’s chest to hold him upright, expletives falling from your mouths until balance is restored.

You rest your forehead on the older man’s collarbone as you abruptly giggle at being so kiss drunk you forgot how to backpedal. The two drivers have no choice but to laugh at the sound of your amusement, Lando cackling and Carlos’s chest shaking with his laughter. 

“I’m not against fucking on the floor,” Lando voices, the sound of his grin loud enough for you to visualize, “But—can we at least have our first time with you on this extremely comfortable bed?”

“First time?” You raise a brow jokingly, nonchalantly pulling your shirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor, “That implies you’re thinking there’s gonna be a second.”

The Spaniard steps away to click the nightstand lamp on, the room partially bathed in warm yellow light. Your eyes adjust seamlessly to the low lighting, allowing you to revel in the sight of him appreciating your exposed skin, even when covered with a plain black bra—you’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a matching pair of panties.

The younger man unclasps the latch of the garment, dragging the straps down your arms, goosebumps rising in the wake of his fingertips, and the bra lands atop your shirt. You feel his breath cascade heatedly along your left shoulder before his lips purse delicately against the brown skin. 

He nips closer to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I know we’ll be having you for more than a third time.”

Surely feeling left out, Carlos unzips your skirt, tugging it down your hips and offering a hand for you to hold as you step free of it, “Many more times. But for tonight,” the older man pauses, toying with the band of your panties, looking at you with a smirk, “We must settle on saving the floor for round two. After we have caused you to ruin the sheets.”

Internally, you scream in elation. Two men eager to fuck you stupid, for the rest of your summer—you pray they’re not bluffing. You can’t remember the last time you’ve had sex good enough for a repeat performance. Externally, you shimmy out of your panties and tug at the hem of Carlos’ button-up once you’re bare. 

“If you want me to ruin your sheets, I’m pretty sure that requires you both to be less clothed.”

Lando’s free of everything but his briefs in a handful of seconds while Carlos struggles to unbutton his shirt. The younger pulls you into bed, guiding you to lay on your back as he holds himself over you, dipping to kiss you messily, unafraid to let his moans knit with yours. By the time the older man has lost his clothes and joined the two of you on the bed, the Brit’s focus has traveled down the length of your neck to your chest. Reddened marks bloom on your bronzed skin, mottled across your decolletage in a pattern only known as desire. 

He laves his tongue against a pebbled nipple, his teeth scraping the sensitive bud, delighting in the way your body arches upwards into his mouth. Your hand pulls tightly at brunette curls, his resulting whimper at the burn of his scalp muffled around your breast, his eyes screwing shut. You loosen your grasp, unable to determine if that was a positive reaction and you’re pleased to see his eyes fly open, his gaze demanding more. His large hand envelopes your wrist, attempting to have you further mess up his hair, but the motion is halted when Carlos cocks Lando’s head backward with an unrelenting fist. 

The younger man shudders, his eyes rolling at the rough treatment. He rises to lessen the pressure of his boyfriend’s grasp, settling into a kneel between your legs with Carlos pressed to his back. The burn of his scalp subsides when the hold weakens, the tension leaving the younger man in a breath and his head droops back on a broad shoulder.

The Spaniard captivates your attention as he presses a kiss to Lando’s jaw, moving the same hand that was in his boyfriend’s hair to splay against his abdomen, a finger dipping to poke at his bellybutton, causing Lando to jolt with a whine. Carlos coos, calming the man with a rub of hand along his torso.  

“Don’t let him fool you. He likes a bit of pain,” Carlos tweaks Lando’s nipple demonstratively, letting the sight of the younger man’s arousal jumping underneath his briefs accompanied by a strangled moan speak for itself. “He’s a brat, even if he likes to pretend otherwise. A little sting is enough to remind him how to act…most times. Right, Landito?”

The man moves to hide his face in Carlos’s neck as if it’ll hide the sight of him nodding in confirmation. It doesn’t help that the meek “yes” he breathes into the muscle isn’t muffled at all.

“And because he wants to be good,” Carlos continues, pulling at Lando’s waistband and releasing it to snap against flushed, pink skin, “He’s going to keep himself busy with you while I see if I can still taste the dulce on your thigh. Is that okay with you?”

You gulp, anticipatory. “M-more than okay.”

The younger man's eyes are all pupil, ringed with stormy-colored irises as he’s lowered by your side. You were contemplating teasing him about his brat complex—but the haze of his eyes causes you to reconsider.

The gap of his teeth remains adorable even as he bites his lips, the plush skin reddened and raw from where he’s already scraped the skin off. Prolonged eye contact from him seems impossible—his gaze flits away from yours after a handful of seconds. He struggles to decide where to look, happening upon your lips, zoning out with a yearning pout. Lando is clueless to the effect of his fixation; he reignites the redness on your cheeks and the skipping of your heartbeat.

Frightened by Carlos’s spit-slicked lips brushing along the bone of your ankle, you twitch, breaking Lando’s trance. 

The Brit’s blush deepens when he notices you’ve been watching him stare without saying a word. He muffles a mortified whimper into a pillow, smushing his face so deeply into the fabric you worry he may strangle himself. You glance at Carlos for assistance and the man only nods in the younger’s direction, continuing to drag his mouth up your legs, pausing to suckle the skin of your thighs and smirking when he feels the muscles flex underneath his lips.

“Lando, chico,” you croon, petting a hand through the curls at the crown of his head, “Look at me.”

He peeks an eye at you shyly, turning to face you fully, reassured at the enamored look you cover him with.

“Besamé,” you murmur, knowing it’s something Lando’s heard plenty of times from the man nestled between your legs. [Kiss me.] 

The younger understood, rushing to press his lips to yours filthly. The frantic energy is winsome, your chest tightening at the sounds of him whining and mewling needily into your mouth. He licks into your mouth insistently, his attention devoted to tasting the remaining sweetness of ice cream on your tongue. From below, Carlos hums as his tongue polishes off the remaining stickiness on your bronzed skin.

The sounds they rip from you are muffled by the younger man, but the grunt of annoyance Carlos makes as the lingering dulce de leche flavoring of your thigh disappears is clear. He drags his tongue against your labia in one firm stroke, your abdomen undulating at the unexpected attention to your cunt. He smacks his lips, savoring, before a moan rumbles through his chest.

“Better than the ice cream,” he announces, the brown of his iris darkened with greed. 

Lando frees your lips to look at his boyfriend pleadingly, and you take the time to breathe. He left you lightheaded as he kissed every ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

“ ‘wanna taste, ” Lando begs, and Carlos pulls up to meld their lips together, and you're briefly hypnotized by the muscles of his arms contracting through the movement.

The most reedy whine escapes the curly-haired man as Carlos shares the taste of your arousal with him. Your head is filled with the sound of blood rushing through your ears, buffering at the sight of the two men feasting on your essence—what were you thinking when you agreed to be a summer romance? You’re never going to be able to recover from this, and they haven’t even fucked you yet.

They separate, Lando’s chest heaving as he licks along his lips in search of any faint traces of your taste. Carlos resituates himself between your thighs, his voice carrying a firm edge, “Wait your turn, cariño. Keep being good for me—for us, yes?”

The younger man seems small as he nods, appearing a little empty-headed at the command, but he obeys. Turning back to peck your lips sweetly, Lando trails downward to leave a few marks of his own along the column of your neck.

You grab his jaw lightly, “No marks—,” the light in his eyes dulls slightly, “—that high up.” He brightens and lowers his mouth to your collarbone, nipping at your skin, energized by your nails scratching along his scalp.

Your mouth parts in a silent gasp as Carlos joins in. He laps between your folds sloppily, his nose knocking your clit with every bob pf his head. The hand that isn’t buried in brunette curls fists in Carlos’s locks of hair, holding him steady while he prods at your entrance with the tip of his tongue.

Your brain buzzes, toes curling as the older man eats you out, the sounds of him enjoying his meal reverberating through the air, harmonizing with your cries and Lando’s snuffles as he toys with your nipples.

Carlos presses a finger inside, thrusting shallowly against your fluttering walls and his mouth purses around your bud, the suckle of his lips puppeteering your spine into arching and your hips into bucking. His stubble scratches your thighs, the scrape searing but adding to your gratification.

He curls upwards, dragging roughly through the clenching of your cunt, adding a second finger that your walls swallow voraciously. The ache of the stretch is calmed quickly by the ample leaking of your arousal and the constant attention of a tongue on your clit as Carlos steadfastly hunts for your sweet spot.

Your mewls are ragged, forced from your lungs with every press of his fingers. Your eyes flutter as pleasure singes your skin, you find the strength to hold them open as you lock gazes with the man between your legs. His eyes are characteristically wide, but they scream his commitment to making you scream.

There’s no fighting. Your head falls back when his fingers graze near that pleasure point and your eyes screw shut when he perfects the angle and massages your sweet spot with his fingertips. 

A shrill shriek leaves your lips as the penetration becomes unrelenting. He constantly presses on the button that has your thighs tightening around his head, but the temptation of taking his final breath between your legs has him doubling down, suckling at your clit forcefully as he prods a third finger inside of you.

Lando chokes, crying out loudly as your hand yanks at his curls, his hips jumping to grind along your hip, his briefs damp from where he’s been leaking. Carlos’s laugh as he watches his boyfriend desperately hump in search of friction, vibrates around your swollen bud, forcing out a squeal nearly loud enough to drown out the sound of your slick squelching around his fingers.

Abruptly, he pulls away. His digits slip from your walls, your entrance left to pucker hungrily around air. Carlos’s stare is loud as he fights the urge to press inside of you again.

The lack of stimulation is maddening. You free your hold on Lando, and he collapses onto you, body pinning yours to the bed—his weight steadying as you restrain your anger at the sudden halt.

You blink deliriously at the sight of Carlos tearing a condom wrapper open with his teeth. The slowing rhythm of your heart speeds up as you revel at the image of his hand rolling the condom down his hardened length, flushed and throbbing with arousal. 

It’s daunting. It’s been a long time since you’ve last had sex. At some point, you decided to prioritize protecting your peace rather than dealing with men who aren’t going to do anything other than ruin your PH and fail to make you cum. It doesn’t help that Carlos is well-endowed; you need to come to terms that you’re going to have a limp after this.

Lando sits upwards to watch his boyfriend drag his length through your folds, moaning in unison with you as Carlos’s tip brushes along your pulsing clit. The Spaniard grunts at the heated slide before resting at the gape of your entrance, but he looks up to you for your go ahead. 

“I-it’s been a while,” you admit tensely, covering your eyes with the back of your hand as anxiety builds in your navel.

“How long is ‘a while?’” Carlos asks, without a single hint of judgment. Lando pulls your hand off your face tenderly, revealing their compassionate expressions.

“You remember how I joked about not kissing you guys until a second date?” You toy with Lando’s fingers distractedly, and they confirm their recollection, “Well—there hasn’t been anybody that’s made it past a second date in a long time.”

“Carlos is gentle,” Lando reassures you, halting your play with his fingers to hold your hand comfortingly, “I promise. And he listens very well, and pays attention, and goes at your pace. If he doesn’t, I’ll beat his ass.”

You giggle at that, your nerves fading as Carlos yelps at the threat. This exact kind of behavior is the kind you can see yourself falling in love with.

“Ay! Yes—Lando has permission to knock some sense into me if I hurt you,” Carlos jokes, pausing momentarily before his tone becomes hopeful, “And, we would really like to be the ones who make it to a third date—I’ll follow your pace, I swear.”

The knot in your stomach tightens for another reason besides arousal.

“I believe you,” you murmur, relaxing back into the bed, raising your’s and Lando’s joined hands to press a kiss to his wrist. Lando hums sweetly at you, laying at your side again, his free hand cradling your waist, thumb brushing calmingly on your rich brown skin. 

Carlos breaches you softly—gently, as Lando said he would. The three fingers he stretched you with was a safe play. If it were only two, you would be feeling a sharp pain instead of an ache. The burn is delicious, your inhale stutters as the head of his cock pops into you.

“Joder,” Carlos curses, his jaw clenched tightly, his grip tight on your thighs, as he inches deeper. His eyes trace your complexion attentively for any sign that it’s too much. “Relax, mi corázon—let me in.”

The sweet endearment encourages you to pant through a tiny whimper. Lando’s hand pets along your navel as he sweeps a kiss across your brow bone.

“‘s big isn’t he?” He murmurs, voice breathy, “Fuck—it’s gonna be worth it when he’s all the way inside you, yeah? Stretching you out just right, touching spots you didn’t know existed. It hurts a little, I know, love. But, it hurts so good, doesn’t it? I don’t know how that fits inside me every time I take it, but it’s worth it.”

You whimper fitfully—you want to watch Carlos make him take it.

The discomfort twisting your brows lightens slightly, and Carlos pulls out before he sinks another inch in. The shallow stroke sends an appealing rush of sharp pleasure skittering up your spine and it pools at the back of your head.

A real moan is forced from your chest, and your eyes open to see Lando tucking a curl behind your ear, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, that felt good didn’t it, baby?” You can’t solely credit the burst of pleasure behind your eyes to Carlos’s barely there thrusts as he works deeper. The praise and pet names Lando seems keen to utilize should be accounted for as well. The Brit presses down on your navel with an astoundingly large palm.

His lips graze your ear as he whispers, “Don’t you wanna feel him here? All deep inside of you?” He pauses briefly, letting your imagination work before continuing. “I feel him there when he fucks me. Like he’s making room for himself, yeah? Gonna open up for him? For me? Gonna let yourself feel good, sunshine?”

Carlos’s hips meet the backs of your thighs as he bottoms out.

Choked gasps leave you and Carlos. Your skin alight, your pores flaring raw. His calloused hands rub over your hips and thighs, one settling where Lando’s was previously holding at your waist and the other amply squeezing the curve of your ass.

Behind your closed eyes, you see the white flare of heat zinging through every nerve ending, your body overstimulated at receiving pleasure in the highest, unfiltered form. Lando was right—it feels like he made room for himself. The weight of him is searing, your walls fluttering frantically as they adjust.

Your most conscious thought is realizing why orgasms are referred to as “little deaths.” Because, if him fucking into you for the first time is this good? Cumming around him has to feel akin to ascending to heaven.

The younger man turns your head towards him with a gentle nudge of your cheek. His eyes peer into you searchingly. You don’t know what he’s trying to find. You’re more concerned with coaxing him into another kiss.

You raise up with an unsteady arm, toppling forward to press your lips to his, but you miss and land near the corner of his mouth. At your disappointed grown, Lando moves to kiss you chastely, before he looks at Carlos.

The older man’s eyes are silken as they dance between you and his boyfriend. It takes Lando tugging him forward with a hand on his bicep for him to understand that you’re pining for a kiss from him as well.

The Spaniard catches the strangled mewl you make with his lips, the change in angle as he hovers over you amplifying the pressure of him within you tenfold. Delicately, he leads the dance of tongues, using the lip lock to distract you from the barely there roll of his hips.

It works, the nervous tension that had gathered in your core unraveling completely at the sensual rock. The grinds remain tender as he gradually works you up to weightier strokes and a quicker rhythm.

Your lips uncouple when your head lulls backwards, a drawn-out purr rolling underneath your chest. With your knees bending to cradle Carlos’s hips, you cast lidded eyes to the Spaniard, bathing underneath his appreciative gaze and the blissful twist to his brows as he rolls into you.

“Carlitos, fóllame,” you murmur, watching his eyes widen in surprise, “I said it’s been a long time, not that I’m going to break.” [Fuck me.]

Lando grins beside you, quieting his laughter by pressing his face into your hair. The older man flusters, a red flush spreading across his chest, and he reminds you that he’d promised to be gentle.

His dedication to his word is attractive and you’re thankful he followed through. You tell him as such, but not without another teasing jab, “Thank you for being gentle. However, I think continuing to be gentle when I ask for more might decrease your chances at a third date.”

Lando jerks upwards to gape at the two of you, frazzled, “That’s not even funny! Babe—do better!”

The brown-eyed man doesn’t entertain either of you with a verbal response.

A bitten-off shout is punched from your chest as his hips slam into you with vigor, your vision crossing as the older man settles into a hard pace. His cock threatens to slip out of you with every stroke out and your body jolts with every ruthless thrust inside, the maddening force turning your mind syrupy with arousal and lightning-hot pleasure.

Endless praise is voiced by Carlos between every rough grunting pant he releases. Your brain is filled with seductive words; bien chica, so tight, you sound so pretty, you can take it. 

You can only hope he hears your gratitude through your repeated moans. You dig your nails into his muscled back as he grazes your sweet spot every couple of thrusts. The sharp pain only has Carlos’s hips stuttering for a moment. He growls, his grip turns bruising as he fucks into you with abandon. Your lungs burn and your legs shake. You squirm beneath him fruitlessly, attempting to buck away from the overwhelming grind, but you're pinned underneath his body weight. Your escape attempt is noticed by both men.

Lando tuts, pressing you down into the mattress with an arm around your waist to prevent any future attempt of you shifting. “Don’t run from it, sunshine.”

Carlos laughs sardonically, and you squeal as shame crawls along your synapses at the noise. He changes the angle of his thrusts to bully that spongy spot inside of you relentlessly, “It’s not too much, no? I thought you said you didn’t want me to be gentle?”

Your body curls in distress, mouth-parted wide at the excruciating attention paid to your most nirvanic point . You try to squeeze your walls tighter around him, to afflict a hint of the unbearable pleasure he’s wreaked upon you. Your shocked to discover that he’s fucked you open so well that your cunt can’t do much more than take what he gives you.

Your wetness squelches with his motions, a thin layer of sweat accumulates on your skin and steams the air around you. The scent of sex and aftertaste of ice cream permeates your mind as your orgasm peaks. 

It bursts through you, the intensity slamming through you like a train. Your body falls limp as the pleasure overrides your control, the unrestrained screams of their names are piercing as the waves brutally crash over you. 

Carlos slams his lips to yours, your teeth clacking together painfully and you can only pant into his mouth as he messily kisses you through your orgasm and steamrolls into his own with his strongest pounding thrusts.

Spanish curses are hidden by your mouth as he lays into you, like he’s not quite done molding you to his shape. He fucks you both through it, the vigor of his grinds wearing as the spurts of his spend slows within the condom. 

His arms buckle, pushing an umphf from your chest as he falls onto you. The heaviness is grounding and you wrap your arms around him, shuddering through the aftershocks.

Lando shifts needily at your side, but doesn’t speak. He pulls the arm on your waist from underneath his Carlos’s torso and drags a finger along the reddened scores your nails carved into his boyfriend’s back, with a look in your eyes you can’t place. Is it envy? Quietly, you contemplate the ache you feel between your legs. 

“Get naked, cariño,” you rasp, finding a second wind at the younger man doing as you asked, “It wouldn’t be fair if you didn’t get a turn, too.”

Carlos nuzzles deeper into the curve where your neck meets your shoulder, his lips and eyelashes tickling your cooling skin. He misses the sight of his boyfriend wildly flinging his briefs to an unknown corner of the bedroom.

Sitting on his haunches, the Brit’s reaches to grab his cock. It’s leaking and (concerningly) redder than the skin of his cheeks from the lack of attention paid to it. He yanks his hand back as if slapped, and digs his nails into the meat of his thighs.

Oh, you think, is it too much for him or is he not supposed to touch?

You reach to close your palm around his poor, dripping length, only managing a single, loose stroke when a pained hiss is ripped from Lando’s teeth. His hips jerk back, freeing himself from barely there hold of your hand. The toned muscles of his abdomen jump as his cock flares and a stream of precum dribbles from his swollen tip.

“Fu-uck,” he shakes, “— ‘can’t. Too sensitive, ‘ll cum.”

The green and blue pools of his eyes are wet with moisture, and his chest—dotted with moles and patches of flushed skin—trembles with every inhale. The man laying on your chest shifts to trail his eyes over Lando’s form. The corner of his lips tilts into a smirk as his boyfriend attempts to hide his arousal behind a hand.

“Sol,” Carlos says to you as his eyes remain piercing into the Brit, “You should ride him—if you are able to, of course.” [Sunshine/Sun]

“Uhh…” you stutter, your attention bouncing between the two as you refrain from answering. 

The numbness settling within your cunt can be ignored if it means you get to have the younger man underneath you. Except, it looks like he’s about to cry, and you don’t want to pressure him into agreeing with your answer if he honestly can’t handle it. The teary-eyed man whimpers thinly, splaying himself on his back next to you, looking past you to meet Carlos’s eyes meekly, his voice tiny as he responds, “—won’t last.”

The Spaniard pulls out of you slowly, murmuring apologies and kissing your cheekbone when your brow twinges in discomfort. He helps you straddle the younger man’s hips, careful to support you as your legs haven’t stopped quivering.

His hand drifts between your pelvises, dragging a nail along the underside of Lando’s cock and you can’t deny the buzz of electricity that sings in your gut at the younger man’s wounded cry. The tears spill over his waterline, though he’s squeezed his eyes shut to try to stop them from falling. Carlos tuts at the man patronizingly.

“Too much, Landito?” Carlos pouts at him, “It is fine if you cannot take it. If you don’t want to cum tonight that’s—“

Lando’s eyelids spring open, looking at Carlos desperately as he babbles, “No,no,no,no—‘wanna cum. Please, ‘los.”

The seconds Carlos spends rolling protection over Lando’s cock are filled with choked gasps as the younger man cries, overwhelmed at the lightest touch of fingertips. You lower around his cock smoothly, walls clenching around him greedily, vision tunneling on the soundless bliss of his expression when your ass meets his skin.

You hum at the fullness, your mind settling at how right it feels. The first circle of your hips has Lando’s hands clawing at your hips, adding his own marks on your skin to compliment his boyfriend’s. He wriggles, overwhelmed, but bucks to meet your rolling body regardless.

He’s flushed from head to waist, fresh tears painting tracks of salt down his face before they drip off his jawline to splash on the bed sheets. Your pace remains tantric, and you don’t move more than an inch upwards to avoid testing his limits. The suckling, hot, drag is more than enough for him, if the pulsing of his cock is any telling. Your own sensitivity begins to bite at the base of your spine, your brain exhausted at the feeling of Lando pressing into the rawness that Carlos carved out.

The Spaniard must notice the way the two of you are tiring of chasing euphoria. Lando’s grinds weaken as the precipice of ecstasy is dangled in front of him, hoarse sobs racking through him as he fails to reach it on his own. Carlos splays his hand across Lando’s throat. The Brit’s whimpers pleadingly, and his mouth parts roundly as his boyfriend applies a light pressure to the sides of his neck. 

Lando shakes apart underneath you with uneven thrusts, his helpless gasps echoing through the room as you continue the grind of your hips to coax him through the bliss of release. He bodily restricts your movements when you edge him towards too-much, pulling you off of him with a single hand underneath your thigh. 

Your knees buckle, pitching over to lie face down next to the British man, who mewls sharply as Carlos pulls the soiled condom off. The heat of the Spaniard disappears, the sheets ruffling as he leaves the bed, causing Lando to make a noise of confusion.

“Water, mi amor,” Carlos chuckles, and you’re happy your face is hidden as you can’t contain your expression of envy at the endearment. He maneuvers Lando’s arms to curl around you, “I am getting us water. I will be quick.”

The younger man, as fucked-out as he is, uses a surprising amount of force to pull you into his chest as he buries his nose in your frazzled nest of hair. He uses his other hand to pull your leg around his hip and hums happily when your bodies press together without an ounce of space to spare. He squeezes you tightly, your dejected frown disappearing as you bask in his embrace, uncaring of the layer of sweat pooling on your cooling skin and the stickiness of your thighs.

There’s three cups with straws in Carlos’s hands as he rejoins the two of you on the bed. He sets one on the nightstand and holds the other two while you and Lando untangle your limbs. Once Carlos is satisfied by the slow sips you two take, he slinks into the bathroom and returns with a warm, soaked cloth to wipe the grime from everyone’s bodies. 

He’s careful about the press of the rag, paying attention to every muscle that tenses in sensitivity and tries to do the job as painless as possible. He nods in content once finished, scooping his glass up to rehydrate himself as well.

Lando bites at the metal straw, the gap of his teeth ridiculously cute even as his eyes brighten with mischief, “So…five minutes and we go again?”

“¡Que te jodan!” You cast a look of disbelief at him, “Lando you just cried through an entire orgasm and you want to go again? Already?” [Fuck you!]

The Brit shrugs loftily, slurping through the last bit of water in his cup and toothily smiling as he blinks at you in feigned innocence. His softened length twitches to attention, and you rest your head in your hand, shutting your eyes briefly for strength.

“Oh, what the hell,” you mumble, before clearing your throat, speaking louder, “I need like 15 minutes—or, until I can feel my legs again. Whichever comes first.”

Carlos collects the empty cup from Lando and sets it on the nightstand with his own. “Would you like to watch him fall apart around me while you wait?”

You choke on the sip of water in your mouth, coughing desperately to clear your throat as your eyes water from the burn. The worried look in the Spaniard’s eyes has an amused tinge to it, even as he pats you on the back in aid—you have a feeling he timed his question with your swallow on purpose.

“That’s a stupid question,” you croak, strangled, “Of course, I want to watch.”

You snuffle against a warmed patch of skin annoyed. The heat of sunlight paints your face golden, and you shift to burrow further into the warmth of limbs around you to drowsily slip back into sleep. You find yourself nodding off, but your ears become alert to the sounds of birds calling and chirping outside. 

Your body reacts before your brain as you fly upwards into a seated position. Shit! You have to go to work!

A pained whimper is exhaled as your lower body aches, sore from last night’s activities. The tangle of tanned arms fall limply around your waist at your change in position, the snores of the two men beside you uninterrupted. You carefully pry their arms away, and slip from the bed, digging through the pile of clothes on the floor, grinding your teeth at the numbness of your legs underneath you.

You dress yourself quickly, closing your eyes in thanks for Carlos forcing you into the shower before you passed out. Hopping across the bedroom to tug your skirt up, you stumble into the bathroom to examine the state you're in, pulling your shirt over your head all the while. 

Your curls are a mess, but that can be fixed at work. Lando respected your wishes of keeping his marks below the collar, but you can spot a few of the bruises on your thighs that their fingertips left. 

You curse briefly, unsure if you have a skirt long enough that would hide the mottled skin before remembering that you have a pair of biker shorts that you can slide on underneath that will get the job done. Pressing a thumb into the shape of Carlos’s thumb, you shiver at the glance of pain that sparks up your spine, swallowing tightly as you recall how it was left there.

With a shake of your head to expel the unseemly thoughts, you turn the faucet on to splash water on  your face. You need to call an Uber to get to work. Rushing out of the en-suite, you frantically search for your phone, trying to remain silent to avoid waking up the boys tucked in that ridiculously plush mattress.

“¿Qué estas buscando?” You screech frightfully at the rough timber of Carlos’ voice, spinning around to look at him. [What are you looking for?]

He’s preciously ruffled; his hair sticks up wildly, the comforter draped around his waist as he leans upwards, the planes of his tanned skin sharp in the morning hours, his eyes squinted in your direction under the brightness of the room—the curtains are wide open. 

Did you have sex—illuminated with a single lamp—with the curtains wide open? That’s a problem to fixate over later, you need your phone.

“Have you seen my phone? I can’t find it,” you straighten your shirt, your volume quieting near the end of your sentence as Lando shifts in the bed with a displeased pout that softens when he settles.

“I plugged it in here for you,” Carlos whispers, rolling to take it off the charger, flashing the marks your nails etched into his back. 

He lifts himself out of bed with a rough groan, your mouth drying as you watch him walk to you, clad in a pair of boxers that leave little (it’s not little at all, actually) to the imagination. Carlos’s hand cushions your cheek as he brushes his lips on yours softly, the delicate rhythm washing away your concerns about being late. 

Your lips break apart with a soft pop and he laughs at the discontented sigh you exhale, offering a languid press of lips to your forehead in apology. You reluctantly take the phone from his hand, your eyes bugging out as you realize that you needed to leave five minutes ago to have plenty of time to fix your appearance before you clock in.

“¡Puta madre!” you exclaim, “I’m fucked. I’m going to be so late ‘cause I have to wait for an car.”

“ —Wait for a car?” Carlos’s eyebrows twist in confusion, scratching at his stubble, “Where are you going? You are not staying?”

You throw him a soft look, turning away to figure out where your socks disappeared to, “I’m late for work, Carlitos. I can’t stay—even though I really want to.”

Carlos ah’s in understanding, assisting you in the search for your socks, his voice still croaky with disuse as he talks, “I can drive you? We are only twenty minutes away if you follow the road laws.”

You huff a laugh at his insinuation, tugging your socks on and patting at his arm softly, before gesturing to Lando in the bed, “You don’t have to. I don’t want to inconvenience you, you should be in bed with him. It’s my fault for not having my alarm properly set.”

Carlos shakes his head, rooting through his dresser for a pair of sweatpants that he pulls on, “You are not inconveniencing me. It would be rude if I let you be late to work after last night. I’m not that kind of man. Neither of us are.”

You give in as you watch him pull a plain white tee over his head—he’s too sweet for a fleeting romance. He ambles over to Lando, brushing the unruly curls off his forehead and pressing a kiss to his temple. He tucks the blankets around his boyfriend and a lick of jealousy blooms in your subconscious before you pluck it. 

Carlos grabs his own phone off another charger and stands, speaking to you warmly, “Your shoes and purse are downstairs, yes? There’s some protein bars in the kitchen pantry, grab as many as you want. I should have treated you to a proper breakfast but you do not have the time. I’m going to use the bathroom quickly, if that’s okay?”

You nod, and Carlos quietly shuts the bathroom door behind him. You breathe deeply at the situation you’ve found yourself in, and you scramble to send a quick text to the group chat telling them to cover for you and promising to cover a shift for anybody who does in the future. 

Your phone buzzes almost instantly after with an influx of messages and you click the screen off. They’re probably freaking out at the uncharacteristic vagueness of your whereabouts, but you put off responding to press your own kiss to Lando’s temple before heading downstairs, tenderly stepping to minimize the unsteadiness of your walk.

You appreciate the decor you didn’t get to see last night, the vacation home vibes blatant as you walk through; a modern twist of Spanish style decor. There’s even a fireplace you spot on your way past a sitting room.

You lace up your sneakers, grabbing your purse from the console table in the entryway before searching for the kitchen to grab a protein bar to hold you over until your lunch break. The kitchen is artful, modern in the sense of the new appliances but the colors and details of the tiled walls, clutter, and cabinets gives it a soul. It feels lived in.

You dryly swallow an ibuprofen—you always carry a few in your purse—hoping it will relieve your soreness before work. You open the pantry door, finding an assortment of protein bars and taking your time to read the labels as you hear a door open which means Carlos is heading down. You grab two bars that fit your taste and softly shut the door, unwrapping one to take a bite of now.

“Ah, I knew I would see you again,” Carlos Sr. smiles at you from the kitchen entry, chuckling at the way you jump and nearly drop the bars in your hands, “I will not lie to you, I thought it would be at the golf club and not here.”

Your lips part and seal as you search for a polite answer, but he continues speaking.

“Let me tell you a secret,” he clasps his hands delightfully, “Did my son tell you that he’s been asking me about you every time I am on the course? Papá, did you see her? Papá, when are you going back to Madrid? Aye, they’re smitten over you, mija?”

“¿En serio?” you relax at his mellow tone, enlightened by the new information. [Really?]

“¡Sí!” The older man exclaims, passing by you to start a pot of coffee, “To be honest, I thought you were out of their league last summer,” you laugh, knowing it’s definitely the other way around, “—Honestly!” He insists, turning to face you as the coffee starts to drip.

“I mean, you are in university, getting a further degree,” he shakes his head in respect of your commitment, “Those two just drive in circles for a living! I couldn’t even convince my son to drive rally like I did, ese cabrón.” [That bastard.]

You laugh a little harder at the jab on his own son, muffling it behind a hand, and he continues, “—And, when they told me they did not get your number! Ay! I was so mad at them. I told them to drop everything and go after you, but by the time they made their way up there you were already gone.”

You feel like shit about your outburst on the green. Your expression shutters, and he pats at your shoulder in comfort, “Oh. I-I didn’t know—“

“How could you?” He hums in question, “It is not your fault, if that’s what you are—“

“Mi sol, have you seen my wallet—” Carlos Jr. steps into the kitchen, words cutting off as he balks at the sight of his father, and he shouts, “Papá! ¿Qué hace aquí?” [My sunshine; Dad! What are you doing here?]

“¿Qué estoy haciendo en la casa que compré?” His dad fires back, amused at his son’s stunned question. [What am I doing in the house I bought?]

Carlos blinks at his dad before turning to you, slipping his hand into yours and tugging you out of the kitchen softly, “Let’s go; you’re going to be late, no?”

Sr. chortles as he grabs a mug from the cabinet, “¡Mijo! Hiding a woman from me?! It is okay, Lando will tell me everything. That is why he’s my favorite son!”

Carlos throws his head back with an exasperated groan, but it doesn’t hide the redness of his ears from his father’s teasing.

You stifle your smile, squeezing his hand pacifyingly, “Your wallet is in the bowl at the front. Um, if it’s possible,” you tuck a curl behind your ear shyly, “Do you have another car besides the Ferrari? I love it, but I cannot show up stepping out of that.”

Carlos snorts, shoving his wallet into his pocket and leading you to the garage, “Is a Porsche fine?”

“It’ll work.”

He gets you there in thirteen minutes, slowing the car to a crawl as you direct him to the employee entrance. You grab your purse, awkwardly pausing as you pop the door open. 

You face him with a sheepish grin, “Thank you for the ride. Tell Lando I said good morning.”

Carlos drags his eyes over your form languidly, before he nods imperceptibly, “Do you have enough time to get ready?”

“You’ve made up a few extra minutes for me with your skilled driving on the way here,” Carlos huffs a laugh at that, “So, I should be okay.”

The two of you fall back into silence, unsure of what else to say. You take the leap of faith this time around, it’s the most you can do after learning the way they tried to catch you before you left last summer.

“It wouldn’t be overstepping if I kissed you, right?”

“Ven aquí,” Carlos exhales, unbuckling his seatbelt and leaning over the console to meet you halfway. [Come here.]

His lips are swollen and textured from your’s and Lando’s combined attention, but the kiss is the sweetest and most tender one you’ve ever experienced. The soft exhale of breath from his nose stokes the butterflies in your stomach, who flutter awake as adoration pumps through your veins. The two of you part, eyes fluttering open to stare softly. He settles back into his seat, looking at your lips longingly, his line of sight broken as you exit the vehicle.

You clear your throat, “Um, I’ll text you guys when I get home later, okay? Adiós, te qu—hasta luego.” [Bye, I l—see you later.]

You shut the door and speed walk into the building before he could say anything about how you nearly exposed how down bad you are already. You hope he doesn’t bring it up, for the sake of your mental stability. The moment you step into the employee locker room, you're accosted by your friends, Isa, Lucas, and Stephanie. 

“Damn,” Lucas snaps, “I was really hoping you’d be late. I need my shift on Tuesday covered.”

You shrug, sliding past the girls to walk to your locker. “Sucks to suck.”

“¡Oye, pequeña!” Isa and Stephanie box you in at your locker as you grab your spare uniform and sport shorts, Isa stresses, “You cannot, walk in here and act like nothing happened! You show up wearing the outfit I picked out for you yesterday? Your hair is a mess! You sent the vaguest text about possibly showing up late? And, you get dropped off in a Porsche!?” [Hey, girly(i guess, idrk how to explain it)!]

Stephanie’s eyes blow wide and you rest your head into the cool metal of your locker door as she bursts, “Girl—did you get laid?!”

“Thank you for that, Steph,” you bite out, turning to look at them with the politest grimace you can muster, “Now, everyone will know exactly what I got up to last night because Lucas—,” you point behind you with a thumb, speaking loudly to drive your words in, “—Is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut.”

He raises his hands up and backs out of the locker room with a devious smile. 

Turning to Isa, you shake your head, “I do not know why you like him. He’s such a chismosa.” [Gossip.]

She rolls her eyes at you, following you as you make your way into the bathroom, “It’s not a bad thing. He tells me all of the gossip I miss out on–why are there bruises on your thigh—holy fuck! He must have big hands. Which means he has a big—”

“Okay!” You screech, running into a stall and locking the door shut behind you, “I will tell you and the girls every single detail as soon as we finish today!”

She makes a triumphant noise, her steps fading as she exits the restroom, “You better! Or, I’ll force you to listen to me wax poetic about Lucas’s eyes for hours!”

Scoffing, you tug your shirt over your head and yell back, “You already do that anyways!”

The slicked-back ponytail you gelled your hair into, has already sprung flyaways since you didn’t have enough time to set your hair with a wrap before you had to drive out onto the course. You’re almost three hours into your shift, and the sun feels like it’s at its strongest even though you have a few more hours of it burning hotter. Only twenty minutes until lunch, you remind yourself, then you can fix your hair and cool down in the restaurant's walk-in freezer.

You’ve just finished serving a bachelor party, a group of ten men who didn’t give you a hard time. You talked loosely with them, engaging in small talk because connections are everything and you never know who you might run into on the green.

Like Carlos and Lando, case in point.

The groom-to-be actually met his fiancé here. She was a bartender in the clubhouse about seven years ago, and on complete chance she ended up being the one to serve him. He was starry-eyed as he explained to you that he fell in love with her as soon as he saw her. He ordered an unbelievably expensive amount of drinks for him and his boys (the same group of men in the bachelor party), and when she slid the bill over to him, he said, “For this price, you could’ve bought me for the night.”

You called bullshit, and he looked at his friends who backed up his words; they all heard it when he said it. You watched as he took a sip from his beer bottle with a reverent shake of his head, “Now, we’re getting married next week. On August 12th, or 8/12. Which was the price of the tab that night, $812.”

You made a joke about him needing to strengthen his self-esteem if he would consider selling his body for a measly $800, and to attend an A.A. meeting because that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks that leave your system quicker than you ingested them. 

The men crowed in laughter at your ribbing of the groom-to-be, but you did seriously congratulate him on his engagement and wished him a long, happy marriage.

And currently, you’ve parked your cart for a few minutes to get over the urge you feel to cry. You're jealous of a woman you’ve never met before because she gets to love a man who’s devoting the rest of his life to her. She gets to marry him, and you’ve agreed to be nothing more than a summer romance to the men you could see yourself falling in love with.

You thank the universe for allowing you to cross paths with the groom-to-be. It reminded you of your place with the Formula One drivers and it’s a temporary one.

Your walkie-talkie crackles with the sound of your name and you sniffle deeply, blinking your eyes quickly to rid the moisture. 

“What’s up?” You chirp cheerily into the voice box, waiting for a response.

“By chance, are you missing your earrings? Over.” It’s Ryan, he takes his radio messages seriously. You tug at your earlobes, and damn, you feel naked.

“I am. Did I leave them in the dressing room?”

“You have to say ‘over’ at the end of your messages, you know that. Over.”

“Ryan...” you hold the line open to annoy him a little bit before you give in, “Did I leave them in the dressing room? O-v-e-r, over.”

“I was going to be nice to you but you lost that chance. Over.” 

You snort, intrigued to hear how he’s going to ‘retaliate.’ The two of you started here at the same time and Ryan has become like a little brother to you, against your will. 

“I just wanted to let you know that two objectively handsome men turned in your earrings to the front desk,” you shout in surprise, firing up the golf cart and slamming the pedal down to head back to the clubhouse, “Hmm…I think they said you left them at their house last night. Overrrrr.” He draws the ‘over’ out teasingly and the walkie-talkie squeals with static and screams of surprise from the other employees on the channel.

“TWO? YOU FREAK!!!” Lucas.

Incoherent screaming. Isa.

“Nobody here can call me a slut anymore!” Rob.

“Is that why you couldn’t sit comfortably at the morning meeting?!” Sofia.

Ryan’s voice crackles through, “Oh! I forgot to mention—don’t worry about stealing food from the restaurant for lunch; they dropped off a meal for you. Over.”

The walkie-talkie explodes with noise and you turn the volume to zero. You’re reporting them all to HR.

You tune out the jeers in the break room as you devour a croquetade jamón and chase it with a spoonful of rice. You send a photo of the food with a thumbs-up in the frame, to Carlos and Lando. You type out your thanks for the jewelry return and lunch. There’s no hesitation as you press send on message inquiring about when the third date is going to happen.

The third date is private cooking lesson where you’re coached through making a few classic Spanish tapas. Lando immersed too deeply and only responded to ‘Chef Lando’ during the class. Carlos ate all of the chorizo he was supposed to use on his flatbread. You terrify the actual chef with your less than savory cutting technique. Your torn apart on their fingers that night, as they take turns coaxing you over the cliff.

You decrease the amount hours you’re able to work at the golf course. You’re only on the schedule during the middle of the week–Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday—leaving you with a four day weekend to frolic around Madrid with your boyfr—with Carlos and Lando.

The fourth date is dinner and a show. It’s your first time watching a ballet, and your lucky enough to be watching the performance at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe. It’s also the first time you get railed in a women’s bathroom stall at Teatro Real, one of the most prestigious opera houses in Europe.

Lando pants raggedly as he fucks into you from behind, “Ah—shit, sunshine, you’re so tight.”

Your moan is muffled around Carlos’s cock and he hisses at the vibration, knocking his head against the stall door loudy. 

When Lando climaxes, he whimpers out a, “te quiero.” You pretend to miss it as you concentrate on sucking Carlos to completion. Carlos licks his spend from your tongue, babbling his te quiero’s into your mouth. You don’t say it back. [Te quiero means I love you, but it’s more casual, less serious in nature.]

The fifth date is pottery and you ride Carlos’s face to the image of Lando’s hands coning down his clay on the wheel. The sixth date is driving around the outskirts of Madrd’s city limits and passing the phone around to queue a song to play as you three switch between talking and enjoying the tunes. 

The seventh date is painting the mugs you made; you made two, one for Carlos and one for Lando—they each made you one as well. You’ve painted Carlos’s as a lemon and Lando’s as an orange—and homage to the sip of sunshine line they pulled on you. Lando painted a field of sunflowers for you. Carlos painted a sun with rays spilling from it, the words ‘my sunshine’ scripted into the middle of the sun.

Somewhere between the fifth and seventh date, they became comfortable with saying te quiero  to you outside of sex. 

It’s said as you serve them drinks on the course, as they drop you of at home after dates, as they cuddle with you without wanting more, as they wake you up between them in the morning. 

You give in somewhere beewen the sixth and seventh date. But, you only allow yourself to say te quiero during or after sex.

And, you stifle your sobs of anguish into your pillow at home, dreading the day you return to school and they return to racing.

Your dad enjoys the mobile car show of priceless automobiles that appear in his driveway to pick you up. Your mom eagerly awaits your renditions of your dates every night and you’re careful to edit around the explicit parts. 

The dates progress to you spending your four days off at their  Carlos Sr. 's vacation home, packing a bag with your necessities so you don’t have to risk wasting time away from them by stopping at your house. They take the time to explain to you just how much of a goat Lewis Hamilton is. Lando helps with your wash day, soaking up your tidbits of advice for his own curls. Carlos lets you soundboard ideas for your dissertation off of him without complaining, iterjecting every once in a while with a viewpoint you hadn’t considered. 

Your craving for intimacy is satiated. They twirl you around in the kitchen to Spanish ballads they sing terribly at the top of their lungs. They terrorize you on the green, choosing increasingly difficult cocktails for you to make so you have to spend more time with them instead of doing your job. You and Carlos terrorize Lando with a football games of keep away. You and Lando terrorize Carlos by hiding his shirts from him so he has to walk around topless. They don’t terrorize you in retaliation—if you don’t count their constant te quiero’s as terrorizing acts.They pick you up at some ridiculous hours when you’ve gone clubbing with your friends; making sure you chug a glass of water, helping you rinse off in the shower and moisturizing your skin before dressing you in their clothes, doing your skincare for you before putting you to bed. 

They drag their feet through helping you repack your belongings on the morning of your last day in Spain. You let Lando get away with tugging garments out of your bag every time you turn your back to him, hiding your smile as you see Carlos assist him by stuffing it at the bottom of the pile of clothes that doesn’t seem to shrink.

Eventually, they give up. Their eyes trace your form as you do your last walkaround to make sure you haven’t left anything behind. Your check ends at the front door, grabbing your keys from the bowl on the entryway table.

You sigh heavily, “Well, don’t just stand there.”

They gravitate towards you, hugging you tightly and peppering an endless amount of bittersweet kisses along any patch of skin they can reach. Lando hunches down to hide his face in your neck, and Carlos rests his forehead against yours.

“¡Chicos, calmaté!” Your giggly exclamation sounds watery, “I am coming back next year, remember?”

“That’s too longgg,” Lando complains into your neck, his voice sounding as pitiful as yours. You step backwards to cradle his face between your hands. His cheeks are ruddy and his eyes are dejected even as he smiles shakily under your touch.

“Date us.” Carlos blurts out desperately, “Ay, perdóname—May we date you, please?” [Forgive me.]

You gape at the older man, struggling to ascertain what he’s asked of you. 

Stumbling gracelessly, your hands fall from Lando’s face, who makes a hurt noise at the loss. “Date me? I thought you both said this was just a fling?”

The Brit twists his hands together at your words, his face saddening further as he corrects you, “Summer romance—fling is too harsh.”

“Too casual?” You shout, “I thought this was supposed to be casual! I felt like shit whenever I didn’t say te quiero back! I wanted more the moment we sat down at that restaurant a month ago, but I thought I couldn’t have it because that’s not what we agreed on!”

“You want more?” Carlos clarifies, his tone optimistic. 

“¡Cabrón!”  You laugh, hurtling forward to throw your arms around his neck. Relieved tears spill over your waterline, soaking into the Spaniard’s shirt. “I’m damn near in love with you guys–yes,yes,yes, I want more.”

Lando glows, blubbering incoherently with happiness and you shush him with your lips.

“I wish you had asked me days ago,” you sniffle cutely, smiling crookedly as you continue, “—’cause I really do have to leave, or I won’t have enough time to pack my things into my suitcases at home.”

You groan as you find yourself with an armful of two Formula One drivers bemoaning the unfairness of being separated from you even though they just got you.

“Mis amores, escúchame—you had me the entire time,” you coo, “We all know how phones work. We can communicate speedily with texts, and video calls, and send voice messages, and even regular calls. If we’re doing this we have to have a serious talk about it when I land in the States, yeah? Long distance is difficult, but I’m willing to put in the effort to make it work, if you two do the same.” [My loves, listen to me.]

“Phone sex isn’t the worst thing in the world,” Lando quips, smiling as he watches you and Carlos chortle at the unexpected comment.

The laughter ringing through the air fizzles out. You bite your lip, shaking your head slightly as their stares fixate on your mouth. They haven’t managed to stop ogling at your lips over the course of the month.

“Te quiero,” you state. Lando repeats it back instantly, Carlos kisses you before doing the same.

You pick up your bag from the floor, “Promise me that you’ll do your best to make this relationship work.”

Their confirmations are swift, even taking turns crossing their pinkies with yours and with themselves. Your heart sings with love. They walk you to your car. Carlos takes the bag from your hand and places it in your backseat, Lando holds your door open, making sure you don’t hit your head as you sit in the driver’s seat. 

He shuts the door smoothly, and you roll down the window to exchange your last goodbyes. 

“See you next summer.”

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© httpsserene2024 — photos used are from pinterest (edited by me). borders by @cafekitsune.

[morgana-larkin]

The more Melissa schemmenti fics the better . Could you please please please write one were Melissa does the leaning on the wall with the arm thing . Like the jock /cheerleader pose in the hallway . But with reader . I love that Melissa is bad girl with milf vibes .

So sorry that this took way longer than I thought it would. And I agree with you, the more Mel fics the better. I also put some inspiration from a fan art of Mel eating reader out with her glasses on and hair up and the creator asks for a fic about it and I honestly forgot their name. If you can let me know in the comment section so I can tag them in this then it would be appreciated! Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

On another note: I can’t believe that season 4 starts tomorrow and there’s a new episode of Agatha All Along! #spoiled

Another note: it was @dashbag-art that made the fan art of Mel eating someone out.

What She Wants

Warnings: bad girl Mel, smut, small praise kink

Words: 2.8k

You’re walking down the hallway, collecting late book returns from students. You’re on your second year of being the school librarian and you’re loving it so far. You just collected a few books from Janine’s kids and now you’re on to Melissa’s.

“Alright my little eagles, who can tell me wh-” Melissa says and then you knock on her wide open door. Melissa looks and sees you and she instantly smiles. “Hello Y/n.” She says and you blush slightly.

“Hi Ms. Schemmenti, I need to talk to a few students in your class.” You tell her and she nods.

“By all means, who do you need?” She asks.

“Let’s see.” You say and look at your list. “Milly, Dominic and Avery.” You say and the 3 students sit up and walk out the door.

Melissa watches you for a second before she goes back to her lesson. She watched you while you did your first year here and she’s been watching you more closely since you came back and started your second year a couple months ago. You talk to the 3 students and then they return to their desks while Melissa continues the lesson. Melissa gives you a smile that you return before you go to the 3rd graders.

The next period starts and you have to go back to the library to see who is where this period and return the books that you were able to get, back to their place. About 20 minutes into the new period, you’re walking to a 4th grade classroom when someone stops you.

“Hey hon.” You see Melissa say and she traps you against the wall and she’s leaning on her arm that’s on the wall.

“Oh h-hi Melissa.” You stutter out and she smiles at you, you’re holding the couple books you have close to your chest.

“Do I make you nervous?” She says and leans in closer to you.

“A-a little bit.” You say to her and she smirks.

“And why is that?” She asks, a little cocky.

You have to admit that you didn’t think this is where the day would go. You’ve been attracted to Melissa since day 1 but never went for it from the things some other teachers have told you. They warned you to stay away from her as she doesn’t always tolerate people and knows what to do to get what she wants. They also told you that she knows several guys all around the city in various fields of work so be cautious. Now she’s close to you and asking why you’re nervous around her and you don’t know what to say.

On Melissa’s end is a bit different, she can probably guess that other teachers told you a few things about her. She found you cute since you started but she kept her distance since you were new. Now you came back for another year and she knows she wants you. She’s having fun watching you squirm a bit right now for an answer. She tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and you freeze.

“Why do I make you nervous hon?” She asks again and you look up and catch her eyes and you freeze again. She had beautiful green eyes that go perfect with her beautiful face and gorgeous ginger locks.

You start looking for a way out and notice that she’s trapped you pretty good as she’s gotten closer and there’s no one in the halls to help you.

“I-I…um.” You stutter and Melissa tilts her head a bit, still smiling.

“You’re adorable when you don’t know what to say. I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that the other teachers warned you about me when you started?” She asks and you nod slightly. She hums as she thinks of what to say next now that she’s got you trapped. You take a second to look at her and see that she’s wearing the leather jacket you love on her as well as a pink low cut top and see a good amount of her cleavage. Melissa of course notices you staring at her chest and smirks. “My eyes are up here hon.” She tells you as she tilts your chin up with her free hand. She sees your eyes widen as you got caught and smiles at you. “I don’t mind you looking but not at school, we have to stay professional.” She tells you as she leans into your ear. “Come to my place after school and you can look all you want.” She tells you and then pulls back. You’re looking at her like a deer in the headlights and frozen in place. “Is that ok with you hon?” She asks and you nod your head, unable to form words. Melissa tucks another loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “Good girl.” She says and then leaves.

You hear her heels clicking against the floor and you take a few breaths. What the fuck just happened and what did you agree too? You think and you look at Melissa’s retreating form. You see a slight sway in her hips and can’t help but look at her ass. The other teachers warned you about her and now you agreed to go to her house after school today. Are you very fucked right now? You continue to collect the books and talk to students about late books right until the end of the day. When you’re packing up to go home you get a text from an unknown number.

Unknown number: Hey hon, it’s Melissa. Here’s my address

You read and then get another text with an address.

You: How did you get my number?

Melissa: I know a guy

It’s all she says and then a wave of nerves hits you. In truth, Melissa went to Ava for your number and Ava gave it to her without much thought.

You pull up the driveway of Melissa’s house and walk up to the door. You’re about to knock when you glance down and see the ‘go away’ welcome mat and you hesitate. You then decide to fuck it and knock. Melissa opens the door a few seconds later and smiles when she sees you.

“Hey hon, come on in.” She tells you and steps aside to let you in. “Dinner is in the oven and it’ll be ready in about 10 minutes.” She says as she begins to lead you to her kitchen. “Want some wine while we wait?” She asks you and looks back and sees you looking at her pictures. “Those are just some family pictures.” She tells you a little smile makes its way to your face.

“You have a beautiful family.” You say and she smiles. “Some wine would be nice.” You tell her as she leads you into her kitchen. She pours a glass for you and hands it to you before she pours one for herself. She can see you still nervous even after a few sips of wine so she walks up behind you, spins you around and traps you between her and her counter.

“There’s no need to be nervous around me hon. I’m not going to do anything to you.” She tells you as your eyes are wide and looking directly at her. You don’t answer so she talks again. “What has been said about me that’s got you so nervous?” She asks you and you gulp. “Come on, be a good girl and tell me.” She says and you have to admit that those words affected you and you tell her.

“They warned me to-to be cautious around you as you know several guys in various fields and you know how to get what you want.” You tell her and she hums.

“Well like I said before.” She starts and starts trailing a finger on your wrist up to your shoulder. “I’m not going to do anything to you.” She tells you. “Unless you want me too.” She adds and you glance down and see her outfit better. She changed into a green tank top with a jean sweater, with her hair up, and that tank top doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “You can look all you want.” She tells you as she catches you looking at her chest again. She then places a hand on your hip and moves it up your side, making you squirm a bit. “I know you have a crush on me, and I do want you as well.” She says and your jaw drops. She then leans over to your ear. “I want to claim you as my own.” She whispers in your ear and pulls back to see your eyes turn black. She smiles and leans to your lips until hers meet yours and she starts kissing you and you don’t stop her, in fact you kiss her back.

She smiles into the kiss, knowing she got you. She wanted you and like always she got what she wanted. The other teachers were right about that, she gets what she wants and knows several guys who can help make it happen. She thought it would take longer to get you but then she realised that you already have a crush on her.

She trails her fingers to the hem of your shirt and pulls it up when you don’t stop her. She takes your shirt off and then puts her hands on your bra while still kissing you. She then goes to your back and unclips your bra before yanking it off. She immediately attaches her mouth to a nipple and you gasp and put your hands in her hair. She brings her hands to your thighs and wraps her arms around them before hoisting you up onto the counter. She goes and kisses your neck and starts sucking on it, marking what’s hers. While kissing your neck, she brings her hand over to your centre and starts circling it over your underwear. You’re a moaning mess at this point and all you want is for Melissa to fuck you.

“Me-Melissa, p-please.” You say and Melissa pulls your pants down and off, as well as your panties. She stares at you completely naked for a second before separating your legs and then bends down to where your clit is. Before she dives in, the oven timer goes off, startling both of you.

“Stay just as you are, baby, this will just take a second.” She says and then goes and turns the oven off but keeps the food inside to keep warm. She returns back and goes back in between your legs. “Now where were we before we were so rudely interrupted?” She tells you with a smirk and then bends down again.

“Wait.” You say and she stops and looks up at you. “Do you mind, um…” You start but then get nervous.

“What is it, baby?”

“Do you mind, putting your glasses on?” You ask her and she tilts her head before smiling.

“Have you imagined me eating you out before with my glasses on?” She asks and you nod. “Naughty girl.” She says with a smirk before she puts her glasses on. She then doesn’t wait any longer and dives down to your pussy. You gasp out as her hot tongue finally connects with your centre. You put your hands in her hair and grab her ponytail. You’ve imagined this scenario many times before but never thought it would come true. But now here she is, eating you out with her glasses on and hair in a ponytail just like you imagined. Melissa then moves to your clit and starts licking and sucking as you moan out. She then inserts a finger inside of you and all thoughts leave your head besides thoughts of her.

“Mel-Melissa.” You moan out and you feel her smile as she continues sucking on your clit. You feel your orgasm approaching and you tighten your hold on her hair. She then inserts a second finger in you and she replaces her tongue with her palm and straightens herself so she’s face to face with you.

“I want to watch as you come undone by me.” She says seductively and you wrap an arm around her and dig your nails into her back. She can tell you’re close at that point and she starts going faster. Your mouth is hanging open and you dig your nails deeper in her back and she can feel you squeeze around her fingers. “Come for me, baby.” She says and then you come around her fingers. She slows down inside of you before removing her fingers. She then brings her fingers to your mouth and you waste no time in opening her mouth and licking her fingers clean of your juices. “Now how about we eat dinner and then I take you to my bed and fuck you with a dildo.” You hum and lean your head on her chest as you’re coming down from your high. She strokes your head and wraps an arm around your back and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

She gave you her jean jacket to wear as she thought you getting dressed was a waste of time as she’ll just take all your clothes off again. All through dinner you stare at her and her arms. You had no idea she had muscles as she usually wears sweaters and long sleeve shirts.

“What are you staring at?” She asks you.

“You.” You simply say, not embarrassed to admit it now that she’s fucked you. “Mostly your arms. Had no idea you have muscles.”

“Most people don’t.” She simply says and gives you a smile. After dinner she brings you straight to the bedroom, she takes off the sweater she gave you and then pushes you down onto the bed. “Since you like staring at my chest so much, you’ll like what you see without anything on.” She tells you before she removes her shirt and bra. As soon as she removes her bra, your jaw drops. There they were, the objects of your gaze and they’re perfect.

“Wow.” You breathe out and she smirks before getting you on your back. She then takes her pants and underwear off as you lean on your forearms to watch her undress. She goes to her closet and puts a strap on with an average size dildo and then walks back to the bed. She goes on top of you and starts circling your clit. Once she feels that you’re wet enough, she puts some lube on the dildo and then slowly slides in you. Once she’s fully inside you, she gives you a second before she starts moving and you start gasping and moaning.

“Your pussy looks so good, just sucking this dildo right up.” Melissa tells you. After a couple minutes, as your orgasm approaches, Melissa suddenly pulls out of you and you look at her in shock. “I want you on all fours, so I can pound into you.” She says seductively in your ear and you shiver. You then get on your hands and knees and Melissa aligns the dildo with your entrance and inserts it into you. She then starts pounding into you and you fall a bit and Melissa takes advantage of that and keeps your ass lifted, giving a better angle. Once you get close again, she lifts you up so your back is pressed against her chest and she starts circling your clit while still moving the dildo inside of you. “This pussy is amazing and it’s all mine.” She says in your ear and you reach behind you and grab a hold of her hair. You come a few seconds later and your sounds get her to come as well since the dildo was rubbing her clit. You both catch your breath and lay down on the bed after Melissa takes the strap on off.

“Melissa?” You say as you look at her and she looks at you. “Was this a one time thing?” You ask her and she looks at you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Do you want this to be a one time thing?” She asks you and you shake your head. “I thought you were scared of me and now you want to see me more?” She asks you.

“You’ve given me no reason to be scared of you.” You tell her. “You did tell me that you’re not going to do anything to me.” You add and she smiles at you.

“This wasn’t a one time thing, I would like to do it again. As well as take you out on a date.” She says and you smile at her.

“I would like that.” You say and she pulls you closer to her.

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[mylittleredgirl]

unpopular opinion but i really enjoy "field of fire," the ezri dax "to catch a serial killer" episode. for all the scenery chewing and deep space nine's continued vulcan smear campaign, i'm not going to pretend it's objectively the best of the ezri a-plot episodes, but it's my favorite for what it reveals about her.

jadzia was emotional, headstrong, and sometimes impulsive (as was curzon), but ezri is reckless.

of course she is! she's young! she's unqualified for everything that has happened to her, and honestly, so are all her peers. she ran away from a fucked-up home to starfleet at a time when, as we saw with nog, they're field-promoting cadets at top speed to fill the ranks as starfleet suffers massive war casualties. she's more or less the same generation as the red squad cadets on the valiant who decided to fight the dominion war by themselves behind enemy lines.

and she wouldn't be ezri dax otherwise. the reveal in "equilibrium" is a secret known only the symbiosis commission and the starfleet offiers who were physically in the room. to the medical staff on the destiny and ezri tigan herself, the odds of rejection from an improper trill joining are overwhelmingly likely and fatal. but ezri still volunteers to join with dax! she's probably going to die in this uniform anyway, right?

jadzia was a focused, rule-following, straight-a student before she met the party worm, and it took dax a season or two to loosen her up, but ezri was probably already unhinged.

so of course she's the one who decides to take her inner murderer off the leash at the slightest provocation. sisko asks her to help odo out, and ezri somehow interprets this as feeling like she's solely responsible for finding the killer when she only took one class at the academy in forensic psychology and didn't even like it. odo and o'brien are continuing their own investigation off-screen the whole time! meanwhile, she probably had to look up the trill emergence ritual in a book. she has not read the fine print on ANY of this.

and she sticks with this crazy plan, even when it becomes clear that she's right on the edge of becoming a danger to society. but ezri's whole starfleet career, maybe her whole young life of ignoring and plotting her escape from her emotionally abusive family, certainly her whole joined experience, has been lived right on the edge.

all the scenes she has with joran in and around quark's bar to me are her technique for staying grounded in reality. they often happen after joran pushes her too far, so she uses being public as a distraction from that one-on-one intensity—even though it means she looks insane and everyone's staring at her. even joran is like ".... shouldn't you have told sisko about me?" she is full in dax stubbornness on this deeply dubious plan.

and it works!! and in the final account, i think she liked it a little: the power of playing a killer, the power of being stronger than joran, and the soft ending she has with him during reintegration.

her symbiont, her whole life on the station, her friends, her romantic interests, they were all jadzia's first, but jadzia was afraid of joran and would never have played this game. in this one way, ezri has a closer relationship to her unearned symbiont than jadzia did.

ezri's beta canon trajectory of switching to a command track is okay, but it makes me sad to think she'd ditch her chosen career entirely. i could see her getting into criminal psychology. her brother's a murderer (she hasn't unpacked that AT ALL), one of her past hosts was a murderer... with that backstory, she'd do numbers in a federation law & order procedural series. i'd watch it.

but honestly, in the federation spirit of rehabilitation, she might be uniquely qualified to treat violent criminals as well, rather than hunting them down. she could reach in and heal that part of herself and then use that experience to reach others.

[lurkingshan]

Hellooo, do you have any recs for well written bls that also deliver on the romance front? My favorites that are both great shows and great love stories are Eighth sense, Old fashioned cupcake and I told the sunset about you ( the 2nd season is great but I dont f with cheating)...

Hello! I am interpreting your ask to mean you want bls that 1) are focused on a Big Love Story as their main purpose and 2) have strong writing that nails the romance, in particular. With that in mind, here's what I would recommend in addition to the ones you already listed, sorted into a few categories.

Dramatic and Swoony

La Pluie

Two soulmates (or are they?) meet, try to figure out their relationship, and decide whether they care what destiny has to say about it. Also features an equally swoony side couple romance. This show is Big Romance all around and very much in conversation with the genre.

I Feel You Linger in the Air

It doesn't get much more epic and swoony than this show about a modern gay man who gets sent back in time and falls in love with a young heir. This one has an asterisk next to the strong writing criteria because things get pretty wobbly in the final arc, but the romance stays strong throughout and it features some of the best bl romance scenes of all time.

Bad Buddy

It's gay Romeo and Juliet, but nobody dies (though importantly, someone does get shot). This one is tumblr famous for a reason!

Romantic Comedy

Cooking Crush

The sweetest romcom Off and Gun have ever made, with a simple love story between a med student and a chef. This show has some flaws--they let a drunk monkey take over the editing booth on a few episodes in the middle--but it's well written and the romance is great.

Cherry Magic Thailand

A remake of the Japanese original, this one shocked most of us by improving on an an already solid show. It's a fantastic romance, alternately funny and poignant and sweet as hell.

Semantic Error

The perfect bl romcom doesn't exis--

Light On Me

A high school love triangle where everyone is likable and the right boy gets the guy.

I Cannot Reach You

High school friends to lovers and done exactly right. This show is so goddamn charming and funny while still managing to get to the underlying angst of this trope. Perfection.

My School President

This one is all first love and high school shenanigans and a ton of original songs that will get stuck in your head.

Comforting and Cozy

Sing My Crush

Here's one for your constant rewatch list. A story of two best friends who love each other instantly but take awhile to make it explicitly romantic, as one of them is hurt and hiding and the other is oblivious yet somehow still devoted. You will love them.

Takara’s Treasure

This is a gentle love story between two lonely people who are exactly the right fit for each other but struggle with their own insecurities.

Our Dating Sim

A second chance romance for two high school friends who meet again as adults after a bad separation. Short and sweet with just the right touch of angst to burrow into your heart.

Angst Baby

At 25:00 in Akasaka

Two actors who first met in college are cast in a bl together, and the lines between their professional and private lives start to blur. This is a really beautiful and evocative show.

Wedding Plan

A gay man who is preparing to marry his lesbian best friend to protect themselves from their families falls in love with his wedding planner. It's a classic romance trope but this show does it so well, with an added layer of queer angst that really deepens the story.

My Beautiful Man

A high school story that centers on a psychologically complex relationship dynamic that will not become fully clear to you until the end (by design, the writing for this show is remarkable). It's not a traditional romance but it is a deeply moving one, and if you like it there's a sequel season and movie that are both also great.

Theory of Love

The messy angst-ridden friends to lovers drama we deserve. Don't skip the special episode, it's one of the rare cases where the special is actually crucial to the story and not just bonus fluff.

My Tooth Your Love

This one is romcom shaped but also deals a lot with trauma, so on balance it's more of an angsty romance. Warning for dentistry (which I recently learned is an issue for a lot of folks on here).

Gameboys 1 and 2

A pandemic-era romance that starts long distance before our boys can come together in real life. Definitely watch both seasons!

Jack O’ Frost

The only bl that has ever used the amnesia trope well. A romance gone wrong that gets an unexpected second chance after an accident forces a reset of their relationship. I found the themes of generosity and forgiveness in this one really moving.

Seven Days

This one is what it says on the tin--spend a week with two teenage boys as they try out dating each other. I really love the structure of this one, and the romance is well done.

[wooeo]

Hi!! I saw your request open ^^ I just want to request an ateez member!reader in wanteez (any episode will do) but if you haven't watched it maybe behind the scenes from their mv filming?? Thank you 😚

- 💫

☼ WANTEEZ MOMENTS — ateez x f!member!reader

note, i didn’t know which ep to do so i did moments from a few

ep 1

— wooyoung thought about the question for a moment, “i think (name),, she’s not gonna run,”

hongjoong nodded, “hm. she hates running,”

4th transfer student, (full name)

#VeryPolite #ThePerfectStudent

“what warm weather we’re having today,” you commented, walking along the path. your uniform shirt was tucked into your skirt, a shoulder bag hanging by your side. the cameras followed you as you walked, “i hope there’s something nice for lunch,”

before you rounded the corner a guy in the same uniform as you walked towards you with his hands in his pockets. a few steps behind him came a hoard of boys running, screaming at you to run.

you held back a laugh and stepped to the side, so they could run past you. a few tried to pull you along but you evaded with a grin.

you laughed as they ran past you before walking after them with peppy steps. you ended up besides the first boy who had walked towards you, “eunkwon?” you read his name tag, “nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself with a bow, him mirroring you.

“you’re almost late!” the teacher shouted, “you!” he pointed at you, “who are you? i’ve never seen you before!”

you held back a laugh, smiling politely instead. you bowed politely, hands folded in front of you, “hello. i’m a transfer student. today’s my first day here,”

“ah how polite,” he said hello as well, “go ahead,”

(name) attends school successfully

“i don’t run. i hate it,” you said, when asked why you didn’t. arm wrapped around wooyoung’s. you chuckled, smoothing down you braided hair, “i think it would take a zombie apocalypse for me to run,”

ep 3

— “did you play dodgeball in school?” one of the boys asked you.

“only when we had mixed gym class,”

jongho spoke up, “noona, the dodgeball incident,”

“what’s that?” yunho asked,

you let out a laugh at the memory as all the boys listened.

“we sometimes had gym class with the boys and we would play dodgeball. you know how whenever a girl gets the ball, they boys start yelling and screaming?”

wooyoung chuckled, leaning against your arm.

“i hated it, so whenever i got the ball and they’d start shouting, i’d walk to the front line and roll it over. i told the other girls to do the same, until the boys caught on and stopped yelling.”

“did you give them the ball then?”

“yeah,”

the all burst out laughing. chuckling along, you stumbled a bit as wooyoung leaned more of his weight on you.

“i didn’t want to play in the first place. i just did it cause i had to,”

ep 9

— the boys shuffled in, laughing quietly, “(name)~” seonghwa called out in a hushed tone.

you reacted with a quiet hum, eyes closed.

“how are you feeling?”

“tired,” your voice was a low whisper. curling your body into itself, “you’re loud,”

yunho chuckled, “cute~”

san’s hand went to your cheek, stroking it gently.

“san,,”

“hm?”

“can we get something to eat?”

quiet laughter was heard but you didn’t react.

“not yet, (name). you’ll have to wait,”

you whined, hiding your face under the blanket.

requests for member!reader stuff is open !!

[creadigol]

Can you continue hero x villain teacher hero?

Thank you so much for the request! This is actually one of my favorite prompts and it was one of my first writing prompt ideas ever, years back before I even had a Tumblr. Due to my love of this one, it kinda got away from me and I wrote a lot. Like a lot. Lol.

I hope y’all enjoy! 

Part 1 and Part 2 here! 

Hero’s very shitty day was taking a turn for the better. 

This morning Hero had woken quite late (due to the extended hero-ing from last night), skipped breakfast, tripped on the curb, spilled their cold coffee, lost their parking space to a visiting mother, and almost got disciplinary action for arriving three minutes past their classroom attendance slot. 

After hearing the ‘ooohs’ and ‘ahhhs’ of various fourth graders, all of whom watched the principal reem Hero out in the hallway; Hero had finally obtained a sense of control over the class just after lunch. Of course that was after one of the kids had accidentally spilled finger paint on Hero’s chair and didn’t feel the need to tell them until Hero found themselves with a neon pink ass. 

As it was, just after lunch was their history time and Hero, not feeling too great about standing in front of the kids looking this disheveled; nor wanting to show off the new color of their pants, simply opted to play two episodes of Liberty’s Kids while the students sat on the carpet. The ploy seemed to work as not one student strayed from the carpet or asked to go to the bathroom. Hero stayed at the classroom sink, located just behind their desk, and tried to clean themselves as much as possible with the children distracted. 

Hero couldn’t help themselves from laughing along with the kids as the characters in the show told jokes and got into trouble while learning about the creation of The United States. Hero had forgotten how enjoyable the PBS show was and felt very nostalgic as they remembered the show premiering back when they were a child. Some things never age, Hero thought. 

So, all in all, the shitty day was getting better. Perhaps after the show Hero would give the kids a break from memorizing the different kinds of rocks and do a fun science experiment instead. With Hero’s powers they were sure they could make the demonstration look very cool without outing themselves as a super. Maybe they could win back their ‘awesome teacher’ status in the eyes of the kids after it had taken such a hit this morning. 

“Not exactly in style, but I must admit you wear it well.” Hero jumped and turned. How had they not heard someone come in? 

“I’m sorry?” Hero addressed the unknown adult. They turned from the sink, suddenly very aware that they had been wiping their backside with a wet paper towel. Pink was on their hands and now the floor at the attempt…not to mention still on their ass. 

Hero very nearly froze at the sight of the intimidating man. If not for their hero training they surely would have. 

He was tall, tall and brawny, but not in the typical sort of way. The muscle in his physique was evident underneath the expensive Italian silk suit; but there was also a leanness to it, like a coiled spring that spoke of agility and readiness. Hero wasn’t sure why, but they instantly felt off kilter, instantly felt tense, like when they are about to face off against a criminal or a villain. 

“Your ah…” the man smirked and chuckled, “choice of presentation…or should I say style, on your…well…” 

“Oh,” Hero noted the visitors-pass around the man's neck and felt a little of the apprehension fade. Perhaps they were just on edge due to the circumstances the man saw them in. “Not exactly my choice. This is courtesy of a young aspiring artist. She’s just too young to  know where her canvas is.” 

The man laughed jovially, “What a kind way of putting it!”

Hero heard some of the children snicker to themselves from over on the carpet, evidently finding the new stranger and their painted teacher much more interesting than the Revolutionary War. Hero tilted to one side so as to see past the newcomer and give their students ‘the look’.

“Pay attention please,” Hero chided. “You never know…I may be inclined to give you a quiz on this at the end of the day.” 

A series of ‘awwwws’ followed their remark. 

“But if you pay attention now, I might be in too good of a mood to write a quiz…”

All the kids turned back to the television with such force Hero was surprised there was no neck damage. All except for one. 

“Daddy!” 

Oh god. 

“Why hello Maria,” the man stooped down and scooped up the child who had run over from her place on the carpet. He hugged her and then placed her back down. Her stature only reached just past his waste. 

Hero felt their blood go cold. 

Daddy…Maria…

Maria, the student who was first in their class in everything but English…Maria, the student who all the other students named most popular…Maria, the student who aspired to be a veterinarian one day because she loved the class rabbit so much…Maria, the student Villain was most concerned about…

Maria, the student who was the daughter of Supervillain. 

Shit. 

“Are you here to talk to Teacher?” She asked sweetly, her gaze never leaving her father. 

The man nodded, “I am, so you best be a good girl and go back to watching what Teacher has put on.” 

She scrunched her face up in a pout, “But you’re going to talk about me.” 

He nodded as if it made no difference, “I am.” 

“So you’re not supposed to talk about people when they aren't there.” She crossed her arms and gave him a look of determination. 

The man, no Supervillain, laughed. “Is that so?”

She nodded sagely, “Yes. Teacher said so.” 

Supervillain fixed his gaze on Hero. Hero clenched at the sopping, paint dripping paper towel in their hand. 

They knew this day would come. Of course they did. But they had somehow hoped it wouldn’t. Hero was under the impression that Supervillain was not that active in his child’s life. Parent-teacher conferences had always been with Maria’s mother, who had stated that she was happily divorced, and all open houses and concerts had been devoid of Maria’s father ever since she had enrolled at the school. 

When Villain had brought up who Maria was, Hero had already known. After all, they were well connected in the hero world. 

It wasn’t that Hero purposely got Maria in their class, in fact it was the opposite. Hero tried to keep their two lives as separate as possible, but that was just how the dice fell. Hero didn’t get to choose who was in their class and Maria had been assigned to them. 

It was how Villain had found out their secret identity in the first place, their research into Supervillian’s private life had led them straight to Hero. 

Hero had said it was a small world.

Villain had said they best be careful. 

“Really? Well, I guess you better leave me and Teacher alone so they can teach me lessons like that.” Supervillain smiled at Hero. 

Maria was not deterred. 

“No, you just want to talk about my report card. But you can’t, because it’s not parent teacher day.”

Supervillain laughed again and ruffled her hair. “Not all parents need to wait for parent teacher day to talk about their children. It’s a parent’s right to bring up concerns to their children’s teachers, isn’t that right Teacher?” 

Hero gave a hesitant smile, “Yes, of course it is. Though most call first.”

Hero looked down at Maria, “You go back to the show, Maria, Benjamin Franklin’s about to speak to the French Parliament. I know how much you like him. ” 

She looked at Hero with suspicion, though with a hint of apprehension at the idea of missing anything involving Benjamin Franklin. 

Hero smiled warmly at her, “You won’t understand the book I’m loaning you if you don’t know what he did in France for the revolution.” 

Maria’s eyes lit up, “I can take your book home?” 

Hero nodded, “But only if you promise to take care of it for me. Now off you go.” 

“I will!”

She turned to her father and gave him a quick hug before hurrying back to her spot on the rug. Hero almost laughed when they saw her place her head on her fists in an effort to concentrate more on the words Benjamin Franklin was speaking. 

“Nicely done. Though I can’t say I condone bribery,” Supervillain crossed his arms, but still held the smile from before. 

“Well, at least it’s enriching bribery. I told her two weeks ago I had a book at home about Benjamin Franklin and she’s been after it ever since. I guess now I’ll have to bring it in.” Hero found themselves slipping into their normal Teacher to parent tone, though they were sure the tension in their shoulders was noticeable. 

“We’ll make sure to get it back to you just as it was,” Supervillain leaned on the desk and looked down at Hero in a conspiratorial way. Hero tried not to think about how Supervillain was taller than them even while leaning. “Now about Maria’s last report card…”

“Mr….” Hero cut them off.

“Escole,” Supervillain filled in easily, though his eyes rose. “Maria has my last name.” 

“Mr. Escole,” Hero hoped their voice held more bravery than they felt. “I didn’t want to say this in front of your daughter, but this is rather unorthodox. If you wanted to speak about her grades you could have made an appointment for later in the evening or perhaps during their lunch time…”

“Yes, yes,” Supervillain waved them off, “I meant to stop in during lunch but work got ahead of me. I’m sure you know how it is…” Supervillain gave them an up-down, no doubt seeing the old coffee spill mixed with paint and the tear in Hero’s pant leg from when they tripped earlier. “Some days are just chaotic.” 

“I know but…” Hero stopped at Supervillain’s raised hand.

“My darling Maria is too precious to be put on the wayside because of work, don’t you agree?” 

“Of course, but as I said…” In an instant Supervillain was in their face. Their tall body leaned over the desk as though there was no barrier between them. 

“I am a very busy man Teacher, so I’ll get right to the point. I don’t make appointments, people make them with me. When it comes to my daughter, I honestly don’t care whether you’re on lunch or in the middle of a lecture, I’ll be here and when I’m here we will talk. And when we talk, I expect you to listen and do what I want. Is that clear?” 

By the time Supervillain was done, not only was he only an inch away from Hero’s face, but his hand had found its way to Hero’s arm. The grip was tight and bruising, making Hero’s hand that held the pink paper towel shake. 

Every part of Hero wanted to fight, to get themselves out of Supervillain’s hands, but a stronger part of them was hyper aware of the children. They couldn’t fight here. They couldn’t do anything to endanger the children. 

“What do you want to talk about Mr. Escole?” Hero asked in a shaking whisper. 

Supervillain smiled, “Maria was right. You are smart.” 

Supervillain lounged on the desk and pulled on Hero’s arm to bring them down closer. “That new repairman that’s been hanging around…what’s their name?” 

Hero looked them in the eyes with confusion, though in their mind they started panicking. 

Good god, did he know about Villain? 

“I thought you wanted to talk about Maria’s English grade?” Hero spoke. 

“I know you’ll do what you need to with that. I’m not concerned about her grades. What I am concerned with is her account of her teacher being buddy-buddy with a new repairman. One that seems to do the majority of their work only in this classroom.” Supervillain narrowed their eyes at Hero’s large ones. 

“I don’t know what you mean…” Hero stumbled when a hand gripped their throat. Not tight, but plenty threatening. They hoped to god that the children were absorbed in the show. 

“Are you saying my daughter is a liar? That there is no repairman? Now, now Teacher, remember what Maria said? Can’t be talking about her while she’s not here.” 

“I,” Hero breathed raggedly. They couldn’t let this escalate with the children so close. “Every school has repairmen. I…I don’t know what you want.” 

Supervillain squeezed a bit tighter as he stared directly into Hero’s eyes. It took all of their willpower not to look away. What if Supervillain recognized them? They used to think their costume was foolproof, but after Villain had figured it out…now Hero wasn’t so sure. 

“Are all repairmen so attentive?” 

“I don’t know. They come and do their job.” I’m more focused on the kids, Hero almost said, but stopped. They didn’t want Supervillains attention turning the children right at this moment. 

“Nothing out of the ordinary?” Supervillain’s grip on their arm was so tight it felt like it was going to break. Hero suppressed their whimper.

“Not that I’ve seen.” They shook. 

“Then why are they here so often?” 

Hero blinked away tears of pain. “The classroom was in disrepair. It has been for a while. I thought we finally had the funds to fix everything,” They lied. 

“Why no funds?” Supervillain tilted his head. 

 Hero brought their hand up to grip Supervillain’s wrist by their neck when it got tighter. It only made Supervillain shake them. 

“Why no funds?” He asked again.

“I…I’m not sure,” Hero wheezed. “I think the city cut the money during the recession.” 

The hand got tighter. Hero started to see spots. Oh god, did Supervillain see right through them? 

Hero was pulled so close that they were nose to nose with Supervillain. Hero could smell his breath and feel every puff of air that came from his nose. The way Supervillain had positioned himself perfectly blocked what was happening from the children. At least there was that. 

“I want that repairmen gone. Immediately.” He paused, his gaze unwavering, “I expect you not to tell anyone of this encounter. If you do…well Maria will be upset, but there are always other teachers. She’ll get over it.”

Supervillain unceremoniously pushed Hero away. Hero collided onto their wooden swivel chair making the whole thing topple backwards. The crash called attention from all the children. 

“Teacher!”

“Oh no!”

“Teacher are you okay?” 

“What happened Teacher?” 

Supervillain gave a fake look of shock and placed their hand over their heart. “Oh my! Kids, it seems Teacher slipped and fell. Better make sure they’re alright.” 

It was through a throng of worried children that Hero saw Supervillain slip out of the room with a pat of goodbye to his daughter. 

Hero assured the kids that they were okay, just a few bruises. 

“That’s why we never leave water on the floor,” Hero said with a smile. “It was my own doing.” 

All the students laughed at Hero’s rare klutzy moment and were more than delighted when Hero told them they could eat snacks and watch Liberty’s Kids for the rest of the day, no quiz required. 

Once they were settled once again, Hero put their head down on the desk and tried to slow their breathing. 

They had only just got their heart-beat back down when they heard one of the kids approach their desk talking. 

“Teacher slipped and fell. It was after the mean man whispered at them. Now Teacher doesn’t feel so good.” 

“Mean man?” Asked another voice. 

Shit. Not now! Why are they here now? They already practically fixed everything in the school. 

“It was Maria’s dad, but we all call him the mean-man because he didn’t help Teacher up when they fell down.”  

“Maria’s dad?” The shuffling stopped at Hero’s desk. “And Teacher fell after they talked?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Well, you better get back to the show. I think Washington’s about to cross the Delaware. Don’t worry, I’ll check on Teacher.” 

“Okay! Thanks Repairman!”

There was silence. Hero could feel Villain’s eyes staring into as they kept their head down on the desk. 

“Hero,” Villain whispered. “What happened?” 

At first Hero said nothing, then, 

“Are any of the kids around?” Came Hero’s muffle reply. 

“Nope, they’re all eating cookies on the rug.” Hero felt the air change as Villain bent down closer. Unlike with Supervillain, Hero didn’t feel threatened at all. “Why?” 

“I don’t want them to see. It’s sure to have set in now.” 

Villain placed a hand on Hero’s shoulder, “What’s set in?” Hero could hear the urgency in their voice. “Phillip said Maria’s dad was here…”

“Supervillain was here.” Hero confirmed. “And,” Hero lifted their head. Villain sucked in a breath as they saw the dark bruising along Hero’s neck and the mark on their forehead from when they hit the ground. “We had a talk.” 

…

…

…

“I’m going to kill him.” 

@crow-with-a-typewriter @stevihj @waterflower20

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hii, I hope your day/night is going well! I don’t think you’ve ever been asked this from what I’ve seen; but do you have any idea how the NRC school system works? my pea brain I cannot figure it out for the life of me 😭 I know that they have magical subjects ofc (magical history, alchemy, etc.), and they also have the more practical ones like math (unfortunately), but they also mention having electives. I know Azul and Ace have mentioned sharing elective(s) with others, which just leaves me to wonder how many periods they have or if they rotate classes around each day if that makes sense? And on top of that, the lesson chat things of the characters (including upperclassman/people not in 1A with ADeuce?) saying they’ll go along with the schedule we [Yuu] have in mind for the day.

Sorry this got to be so long and you don’t even have to answer at all, just a question that’s been in my mind! :)

As far as I'm aware, we are not told much about how class schedules work at Night Raven College. We don't know how many classes there are in a day, or if the students take the same classes every day or have them on rotation (for example, Magic History on Tuesdays and Thursdays only). We can, however, do our best to extrapolate from what we have!

We have a partial schedule shown in the Episode of Heartslabyul manga (volume 2, chapter 8). In it, we follow Adeuce, Yuuken, and Grim through the school day and right up until lunchtime. They seem to have 3 classes (Alchemy/Potionology, Magic History/History of Magic, and P.E.) and then a lunch break. In book 7 of the game, Ace is having lunch and mentions his "next class" being in the lab, though it's not said what course that is. That line (assuming the "lab class" is Alchemy/Potionology) could imply the schedule is shuffled around depending on the day, but it's at best an assumption.

We also have an idea about a decent chunk of Azul's class schedule, if you can believe that. In 3-7, we get to see his first three periods (Music, Animal Linguistics, and Potionology/Alchemy, in that order). He then goes to lunch. This would seem to imply that all students have three periods and then a lunch break. We don't know how many periods follow after lunch, but I think a safe guess would at least another 3.

In Jamil's Lab Wear vignettes, we learn that class 2-C (Azul and Jamil) take Alchemy/Potionology after Riddle's class, 2-E, does. This means Riddle and Jade take Alchemy/Potionology or some other labwork for second period. We additionally learn in Jade's P.E. vignette that he and Riddle have P.E. for fourth period, which must be after lunch. This implies that required courses are likely taken with students in one's grade level and maybe homeroom, as this is true of Jamil/Azul and Riddle/Jade combos. This doesn't appear to hold true for electives like Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles and Poison Making/Poison Refining, which receives a mix of students.

Classes at NRC appear to be back-to-back, with everyone sharing the same lunch period. This is because we often see many of the main cast in the lunchroom at the same time (book 1 when Yuu sees students from every dorm, book 7 when the first years chat about Mickey, etc.). There aren’t big breaks in the middle of the school day aside from lunch, as far as I’m aware.

I would be hesitant about treating Lessons as 100% canonical, as the gameplay elements of TWST sometimes contradicts the lore we are given in the story and voice lines. For example, you as the player are able to put first years, second years, and third years in the same Lessons when, in reality, this would not be feasible, especially not ALL the time or whenever you want them to be merge. Some courses would have prerequisites that the first years have yet to complete, and not everyone would realistically be choosing to take the exact same electives. Additionally, second years and third years would have to be taking different sections for some subjects which cover entirely different content than what is given to first years. (For example, students don't learn about the Righteous Judge until Magic History II, which you take in your second year. This is why the first years don't know who the figure is when asked about him in Glorious Masquerade.) It’s true that sometimes there are joint classes for PE and even lab classes, but you as the player would not reasonably be able to dictate when those joint classes happened or who else is in attendance.

I'm sure that some of the information dropped in Lessons are true (ie lines from the characters' Chats and the lines they drop during the actual Lessons/when they're gaining stars). However, the things directed at Yuu are dubiously true in my eyes since the pre-Lesson lines are directed as much at the player as they are to Yuu. They're lines meant to make the player themselves feel like they're forming friendships with the boys and participating in learning with them even though this (again) wouldn't make complete sense in-universe. Yuu can't use magic, so they wouldn't be able to participate in upper-level classes which require the use of magic. They wouldn't be following second and third years to those classes. It's also nonsensical to think that the school would allow for any student to just make up whatever schedule they feel like doing on the spot for the entire year. I believe the wording is like this ("Oh, I'll do whatever you want to do, Yuu!") for Lessons to, again, give the player a sense of freedom, and feel like they're taking initiative to bond with their favorite characters.

That being said, here's what else I could find regarding NRC's curriculum:

Crewel heads the Science department, Trein the Humanities, and Vargas Physical Education.

Students are not allowed to use UMs/signature spells during class. They are, however, allowed to use general magic if directed to by the instructors.

First year students focus more on concepts and theories. The older students have classes which involve more use of magic than theory.

There are sometimes joint lessons, or classes running concurrently with one another with students of different year levels involved.

History of Magic/Magic History seems to be a required course; its materials are divided up into different sections and taught based on your year in schooling. The Righteous Judge, for example, is covered in year 2.

Flight/Flying is described as an elective class; not many Pomefiore students take it.

Alchemy is another required course; it seems to provide the base knowledge for potion making before students qualify for other more complex science electives. For example, Crewel berates the first years for touching equipment in the manga and instead has them identify plants.

Potionology (or Magic Pharmaceuticals) seems to be a potions making class.

All students must take Physical Education.

Some students remark on sharing electives with others. For example, Ace and Sebek are in Enigmics/Magic Analysis together, Deuce and Epel are in the same Flight class, Vil and Cater and Lilia take Poison Making/Poison Refining, Silver and Kalim share Astrology and Practical Magic, Jamil and Azul have Potionology, etc.)

Though all 22 NRC students have/will have an Apprentice Chef card, we don't have confirmation that they all took the elective in the main story canon. The exception is Sebek, who has a line in book 7 stating that he's glad he took the Master Chef course.

NRC offers electives like (Visual) Art and Music/Musicology, which encourages and expands one's imagination. This is important because spellcasting is enhanced by having a strong imagination.

The TWST 4koma shows us that third years are able to infuse their artworks with magic, thus bringing them to life. It seems that first and second years do not attempt this magic yet.

There is an elective called Animal Languages/Animal Linguistics, but the name is broad and doesn't specify which animals you're learning to communicate with. This appears to be similar to a real-life foreign language course.

Practical Magic involves using spell formulas in order to achieve a practical goal, such as autocleaning. This is a required subject; failure to pass means you are held back one year.

Enchanting objects is described to be a "basic, rudimentary magic" that even first years are capable of performing.

Physical Training and Swimming seem to be P.E. electives.

Electives we don't have much information about: Protection/Defense Magic, Summoning/Conjuration, Biology.

Master Chef/Culinary Crucibles is an elective designed to give the students the practical skills to provide nutritious meals for themselves. This and P.E. are meant to help keep the mages healthy and in good shape to perform their magic.

Enigmics/Magic Analysis is a mathematics-based course. Ace describes it as solving logic questions using formulas.

Ancient Magic involves reading old texts and deciphering their meaning.

Astrology involves reading the stars and using them to make predictions.

Third years must choose between Poison Making/Refining and Changes & Comparisons of Abbreviated Spells in Ancient and Modern Magic History as an elective. The latter is a lot of writing and making chronological tables.

To graduate NRC, students must complete mandatory off-campus internships in their fourth and final year; this is a structure common among magic schools. Third years attend an orientation meeting in the springtime to prepare them for the application process.

Internships begin in September, around the same time classes start. There are three periods for the internship; students can choose to remain at the same site or take up to three different internships, each lasting 3 months.

A student's internship site options will vary depending on the individual's electives, class credits, and grades.

Some internships require special technical exams and/or interviews. It is also possible that some internship sites will scout desired students in advance. This was the case for Idia, who was given several internship offers after his presentation at a cultural fair.

Each quarter, fourth years must receive an evaluation of B or higher, as well as submit a written report about their experience. A student must receive credit in at least 2 out of 3 internships in order to qualify for graduation.

There is a final exam you need to pass for graduation.

[kazumist]

EPISODE 17 ✿ ENDEARING

YOU + ME = LOVE — A DILUC SMAU

masterlist / prev ep / next ep / wc: 794

it was silly, really. 

it was silly ever since diluc realized his feelings. he suddenly finds everything about you so endearing. he finds it ridiculous how he feels himself get all giddy when you’re not even doing anything. he finds it ridiculously endearing that the simple thought of you is enough to make him feel this way.

with finals approaching, all you and diluc do is technically just review the coverage of your exams. and when you’re lucky enough to finish early, you two would just stay at your spot in the library and kill time. “professor barnes is the literal worst, i swear!” you complained. professor barnes, your teacher for practical research, isn’t really the best. he tends to skip his class (you once thought it was ironic that he was the one cutting class instead of his own students). “let me guess, he didn’t turn up for your class with him again?” diluc asks.

“yeah, and as per usual, we just sat in the classroom like total idiots because we haven’t received any feedback yet about our draft for chapters one and two!” you complained to him again, groaning in annoyance as you felt diluc rub a hand against your back—his personal way of showing comfort.

“if you’d like…” he starts.

“nope! nuh-uh. you are not going to be the one who’s going to review our draft.” you knew immediately what he was going to suggest. and you shut him down as soon as you can. as much as you admire how diluc is so dedicated and hardworking, you don’t really want to be a burden.

“but i don’t have much on my plate right now.”

“liar. kaeya told me that you guys are busy with your capstone project these days.” 

he tilts his head at you, confused. “you’re friends with kaeya?”

“who isn’t friends with kaeya?”

“fair enough.”

“but seriously, diluc. you don’t have to do it. professor barnes will get the consequences of his actions soon enough. thanks for the offer, though; it’s appreciated.” a sigh escapes your lips as you lay your head to rest on the table, using your arms as a pillow. “i’m so tired," you mumble.

“you should rest for now," he says in a softer voice this time.

“don’t you have class after this?” you moved your head to his direction so you could look at him. diluc stares back at you. you had a few strands of hair covering your vision and diluc had to resist himself from brushing them away and tucking them behind your ear. “our prof just left us with an activity since she had an errand to do.” he said a bit late.

“are you done with it?” 

“not yet.”

“huh? why not?” your voice was a bit… muffled? or a bit hard to decipher because of your position. but diluc understood you word for word nonetheless.

“i guess you could say that i’m a bit lazy at the moment.”

“you? lazy? are you really the diluc ragnvindr that everyone loves and adores?”

“oh, shut it.” he playfully rolled his eyes at you with a smile.

not too long after, you dozed off. leaving you and diluc in a comfortable silence. no one was around the floor you guys were in as usual. this time, he finds the courage to brush those strands of hair away from your face.

it’s alright to be selfish every once in a while, right? he thought.

he glances at you and observes your sleeping figure. you looked peaceful as you slept. calm breaths came in and out of you. is it silly of him to think that you look so pretty right now, even though you were just napping? diluc couldn’t formulate the right words to describe you back then. but now he has one.

endearing.

everything that you do or say is just so… endearing to him. diluc didn’t know that one could have such an effect on him. hell, he didn’t even expect to fall in love in the first place. during his years in school, he was only surrounded by people who would fall in love. never did he expect that he would end up being included in its population.

but if he’s going to be honest? he wouldn’t ask for anything more.

time ticked by and diluc sat there by your side during your whole nap. he simply shot a text at one of his classmates, saying that he wasn’t feeling well (he thought of saying that he got diarrhea, but he thought that would be too exaggerated) and that he wouldn’t be able to accompany them on their errand. so maybe skipping is a bit worth it.

after all, he was with you. and that was enough for him.

taglist (open): @ryuryuryuyurboat @g4bbyyy @kizakiss @quackimilktea @mochiboo123 @thystarsshine @cerisescherries @jamieexistss @the-ghost-0f-t0m0 @aethion @dottoreworld-page @naishite @sleepyeri @staaarhin @eroxotckv @kiyiiaarchived @fallenssun @lolmeowing @dorryx @astolary @kissingkzuha @axerrri @a1-ic3 @lottierulez @livelaughlovekuni @sorcerersseestars @whipped-for-fictionals @morganadorodo @briluvspnk @venderretta @xiaosoneandonly @angeilix @morgyyyyyyy @kazioli @the-massive-simp @qtange @tiredjxnna @yuminako @acheronie @sn1perz @akitokisser @siu-ssi @artri-ad @hyeinszn @saeskiss @bubblegum-angelquartz @boomie-123 @moni11032 @sandwichmyonetruelove @cherrybb-ily @itztaki @dontmindtheevie @hotgirlshit5 [1/2]

[respectthepetty]

Pride Petty Watch (SOTUS) 1/5

The crowd picked two blacklisted shows for me to watch during Pride, which were Love in the Air and The Untamed, and so even though I finished the first, I've stalled on the second, and it's all because of the beast named SOTUS. I watched this show when it aired in 2016, but I don't remember any of it. All I remember is that I'm very mad at it, yet this was the wild card show that was unlocked during the voting, so instead of fearing this show so much that I cannot bring myself to finish The Untamed, I'm going straight to the big boss, and fighting this demon NOW!

It's me and the gear in a battle until the very end, and even though I cannot remember a single thing about this show, as soon as I pressed play, all the hate in my body rose to the surface, so I already know this is going to be a ~journey~

First and foremost, I'm going to give this show and Krist a compliment because I HATE Arthit, which is exactly what I should be doing in the first episode. He is 🎶The Worst🎶 and he leans all the way into it. He snarls. He yells. He forces a girl to give him her number through mere power dynamics and sexism, and this isn't just 2024-me thinking this. 2016-me knows that this character is written well because the worst thing Arthit can think of doing to another man is making him say he is gay.

Then to casually whisper in that man's ear that he could find him a skirt to wear . . .

Arthit really is the epitome of the homophobe-to-homo character and I can't believe that it worked in 2016 since I feel that was late for a character like this to still be a love interest, yet it's still working so well in 2024 because here I am, pissed, pressed, and ready to fuck him up for being the douchiest bro in this damn cafeteria. It's refreshing how much I'm allowed to hate him.

Because even the way he screams Kongpob's name with his student ID every fucking two seconds is setting me off.

And I'm very disappointed in BL Land for only ONE video existing of him screaming Kongpob's name, and it's only the times from the first half of the first episode. Thanks, OP, but we are slacking!

But, honestly, if I had a boy who looked up at me like this every time I screamed his name, I'd probably be a lot worse than Arthit. You know, instigating fights and hands on me or something like that.

And now I'm questioning this series because if these two would just choke each other out then kiss, I would be fully for it and enjoying all my snacks along the way. I'd be fine with Kongpob telling the entire room he would make Arthit his bitch, but Kongpob instead says he'll make Arthit his wife, and . . . the vibe is not as kinky as I need it to be to support all that is being thrown at me from these two.

Which is why I'm heavily shipping Kongpob with M! Kongpob got in trouble for having two books, one which was M's, and had to say he liked men. Now, they are drunk at this table with homophobe Arthit and the hazers are staring them down while Kongpob is just holding M's face.

But let me actually rewatch this show instead of reflecting on how GMMTV messed this enemies AND lovers premise up twice (looking at you, Dangerous Romance) because right now, this show is trying to make me believe the girls would not wave hello to a babyface Off.

Once again, back to the actual rewatch, and because I don't remember a thing about this, I don't know if Wad is good or bad, but him busting out this move when Prem told him to apologize was equivalent to an older white Southern Christian woman telling someone to have a blessed day, so I felt that shade through the screen!

And I'm not victim-blaming, but I do actually think Kongpob and Arthit are trying to push each buttons to see who will break first and fuck (up) the other one because this is not a sane answer to "why did you stay?" when the possibility of the hazers physically harming someone is extremely high.

I only see my Kongpob and M ship now because when Arthit asked if anyone knew M, Kongpob immediately stood up and knew his entire life story. I have known my best friends for decades, and I still could not recite half of that information. Kongpob, what are the heterosexual reasons for you know any of this information about M?

JAN!

Once again, Arthit is 🎶The Fucking Worst🎶 because instead of just taking his L, he made Kongpob say everyone's damn name, then ripped up May's name tag, only to scold Kongpob for giving her his, and now the kids are passing out from his ridiculous physical activities! As a member of a Greek-letter organization who was hazed because that was the culture of the time period, Arthit is being soooooo messy!

Hear me out - Kongpob and M would be so good together! Arthit is the antagonist. Kongpob is the protagonist who meets a sweet quiet boy on his first day of orientation. He helps the sweet quiet boy come out of his shell and watches over him. He cares for him. THEY FALL IN LOVE!

But instead I'm getting a love interest who nominated Kongpob because he knows he is cute, yet can't admit it because ~internalized homophobia~ Ryan from The OC would have never treated Seth this way, and they were in the early 2000s. What is your excuse, Arthit?! The show wants me to hate you, and for that, I'm thankful.

But I could never hate Minnie! Arthit came up quick like he was protecting the boys from Minnie being a predator, but Minnie would NEVER! I could never fear Minnie with the bisexual scarf? And now MDL is telling me the actor has only acted in one other series and that series is Deep Night. Gold star resume, and I truly mean that.

Look at them. LOOK AT THEM! Tell me they don't look good together. Tell me they wouldn't have wrecked every other ship. This is why I need GMMTV to let these MEN (no longer boys) kiss their homies. Kongpob x M. Singto x New. I ship it.

*punching walls and ripping doors off hinges* Kongpob gets kicked out the group and the FIRST one to stand up for him is the boy he loves (it's canon to me and IDGAF what the story's gotta say about it). Quiet and sweet M finds his voice just so he can ask to have Kongpob back. THEY ARE IN LOVE!

Arthit is wildin' out here trying to gaslight Kongpob with this bullshit of "if you keep helping out your friends, then they'll never stand on their own." Sir, you wanna fuck Kongpob so bad, you look stupid.

AND KONGPOB SAYS IT!

I cannot stress enough how kinky this is and could have been if 2016 BL Land was allowed to lean into this because Kongpob has already established through his actions that he likes showing up for the punishments, and here he says the quiet part very loudly - Arthit likes punishing him.

Taking a break from the kink to point out that GMMTV was always going to get My Love Mix-Up because in 2016, May's friend said that "In Japan, if you write down the name of your crush on an eraser and use it, that person will love you"

Then we have May asking for an eraser and keeping it just so she can write Kongpob's name on it. But who gets upset about it? M! Because he loves Kongpob and I'm not accepting that he likes May just like Atom realized he liked a boy instead of girl eight years later. M loves Kongpob. That is my truth!

And here comes the kink lite again! Kongpob could leave. He doesn't have to take this verbal abuse from Arthit. He doesn't have to eat that damn spicy ass plate of food. He doesn't have to finish it either because Arthit gets up and leaves, yet HE DOES! Because he likes this treatment. This makes sense if it's sadomasochism, and that will guide me through these next couple of episodes.

Because the decision to make Arthit the one who likes pink milk is a choice, and now I want an entire TED Talk on how Arthit is probably the most well done homophobic bully with internationalized homophobia falling in love with the boy he is bullying.

Because, joke's on him, the guy he falls for is into that kind of shit.

And all of this happens so we can end with Kongpob getting pink milk for himself after he finished an entire spicy meal that he didn't need to since he enjoys being punished should make me so happy, but the show is trying to lighten Arthit's behavior by having him pay for the bill (and get the freshmen food, and having been hazed himself, and blah blah blah) instead of just letting the toxicito be toxic and Kongpob being into it.

I never thought I'd write this, but I don't want Arthit to be tamed. I want him to be so much worse.

[hannicorpse]

ʚ♡ɞ hopelessly devoted to you : episode seven - fboys

previous | masterlist | next

pairing : frat members yang jungwon x female reader

warnings : smoking, drinking, karina says the word fuck a lot

wc : 2k

preview : jungwon was always known as one of the more persistent members of the epsilon nu frat. so when he ran into you for the first time, he just knew he couldn’t get enough of you. even if you couldn’t be together because of your warring friend groups. but that doesn’t mean they had to know. right?

taglist ! @firstclassjaylee @13tter @yjwxfxr @nctislifue @yizhoutv @jwonistic @seunghancore @sol3chu @qettalos @unhakki @i03jae @gyuvision

from niya ; the song referenced is fck boys by blxst

just as promised, you were getting ready to go to the party hosted at epsilon nu’s frat house. or as they called it, the ‘traphouse’. you and karina always found that corny. nonetheless, you’ll still attend.

as soon as you walked out your dorm with ning, you saw the rest of your friends already waiting outside.

“i’ll drive?” you said, grabbing your keys before closing the door.

“i mean, you’re the only one who knows where it is.” aeri grimaced.

the final destination was not far from the girls dorms, but it was still far enough off campus that you wouldn’t be able to walk.

as soon as you parallel parked the car off the sidewalk, you led your friends towards the front door of the house.

“it’s so weird being here after so long.” karina mumbled, as minjeong, ning, and aeri admired the scenery in awe. “sometimes i forget that you guys have never seen the house.”

“i mean, we weren’t necessarily invited. like, you were heeseung’s girlfriend. and i swear sunghoon has been trying to get with y/n for ages.” minjeong pointed out as aeri agrees.

“seriously? i pretty much grew up with sunghoon. i can’t say he’s ever seen me like that.” you scoffed, before going up to the ‘bouncer’ who stood by the front doors.

“name?” he asked.

“y/n lee?” you questioned, assuming your name should’ve already been on the list. you ignored the complaints from your friends in the background as two random girls shoved past you, immediately being let in.

“there’s no y/n on the list.”

“you’re kidding. can’t you just let us in? i know sunghoon. mark lee is literally my brother.”

“nice try. you don’t know how many times i’ve heard that tonight. can you just tell me what sorority you’re in?” the bouncer says as he looks you up and down.

“alpha epsilon.” you groaned, growing annoyed as he turns around to make a call.

“i’m being told that no one from alpha epsilon is allowed into the epsilon nu frat house as of last year.”

“this is ridiculous..” you mutter, pulling out your phone to text jungwon.

barely a minute went by before your knights in shining armor came out from the house. “yo, what are you doing? they’re with us. did you even bother to check that exclusive guest list?” jungwon scolded the bouncer, as he tapped on the top of the clipboard, which clearly read your names on it.

sunghoon peaked his head out from behind the door, motioning for you all to follow him into the house while jungwon dealt with the bouncer.

“sorry about that. he’s a transfer student. normally we don’t hire freshmen but, duty calls.” he shrugged. “there’s a cooler out back, non alcoholic drinks in the fridge, and food on the island. welcome to the traphouse. didn’t think you guys would make it.”

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.” karina rolled her eyes with sarcasm, before waving her hand for you and your friends to follow her to the kitchen.

before you could follow, sunghoon grabbed your arm. “i got you a little something.” he winked, pulling you to a more secluded area.

you walked with him as he pulled you, but you turned around to look for your friends so you’d know where to find them later. at a party like this? they wouldn’t leave their spot. but you didn’t miss the way they all looked at you suspiciously, whispering amongst themselves. “they’re definitely fucking.” minjeong muttered.

sunghoon sat down on the couch, gesturing for you to sit next to him.

you put your head on his shoulder as he rolled a blunt for you, leaning into his warmth. “why aren’t you looking for jungwon?” he whispered teasingly.

your face fell. “who told you?” you asked, almost immediately dropping the lit joint he held out to you when you jumped up from your seat.

“riki.” he shrugged, taking a hit since you didn’t seem to do so yourself.

“he told riki??” you exclaimed in fear, running a hand through your hair. “this is bad. who else knows?” “just us. but i pretty much found out myself. you guys are really obvious.” he murmured, blowing the smoke past his lips before holding the blunt up to yours.

you took a long drag, blowing the smoke up towards the ceiling. “nothing even happened. all we did was talk. do you know what would happen to me if they found out? my friends already hate me for talking to you. what am i supposed to do?” you ran on, visibly stressed.

sunghoon grounded you. he was always good at that since you were younger.

“can you relax?.. this,” he emphasized the joint he held between his two fingers as he let you use it, “was supposed to calm you down, not rile you up. i’ll help you with jungwon. it’s clear you have a fat crush on each other. so don’t stress. and your friends? they need to learn the world doesn’t revolve around them and their feelings. you knew me before you met them anyway.”

“you.. you’re actually right. but, still. i’m just scared. i really have no idea what would happen if they knew. like, karina literally loses her appetite if you mention anyone in epsilon nu.” you sigh, allowing yourself to sink into the leather couch.

“your usual goods doesn’t seem to be working for you.” he teased.

“i’ve grown a higher tolerance for this.” you scoffed, playfully flicking his shoulder.

“i’ll swing by at lunch to drop off a new strain next week. we got some of that strawberry cough stuff.” sunghoon laughed. “stay here, i’ll be back.” he informs you, putting out the forgotten joint.

as soon as he left, karina and ning came up to you. “don’t tell me you’re fucking park sunghoon.” karina sighed in frustration, speaking through her teeth.

“i’ve said this before and i’ll say it again. he’s practically a brother! i’m not even interested in anyone right now.” you frowned.

“you can fuck whoever you want. but it can’t be someone in epsilon nu.”

“i’m not trying to?” you exclaimed in genuine confusion, almost anger. karina was ready to talk again, but immediately stopping herself, closing her mouth as sunghoon came back.

“we’ll talk later. come on ning.” karina scoffed. you watched as ning gave you an apologetic look, gesturing how bad she felt.

“karina seems to be on one.” sunghoon joked, attempting to lighten the mood. “how would you know?” “she doesn’t really talk when she’s mad.”

you stared blankly at him. “how would you know?” “seriously? she was here almost every day because of heeseung.”

sunghoon sat down on the couch with two red solo cups in his hands. he held one out to you, letting you smell it before you took it.

“gosh, that’s strong. the hell is this?” you grimaced at the alcohol stench.

“vodka. grey goose, specifically.” he smiled. “no kidding.. this is crazy. that’s like, 6 shots in one cup.” “it’ll definitely get you there. that’s what this is for.” sunghoon emphasized the other cup, raising it to show that it is half full with strawberry fanta.

you hesitate at first, but pound the vodka before immediately taking the chaser.

“that was terrible.” you coughed out.

“one more?” “..”

by the time the party was already over, you were crazy drunk. your friends were already waiting in your car. good thing you gave ning the keys.

sunghoon offered to walk you out, but jungwon came racing towards you to beat him too it. “nooo, i’ll do it!” he slurred, probably more drunk than you were.

“where were you the whole night?” you whined, as he held your waist to help you get up from the couch.

“sorry babyyy i was dealing with the guy that was giving you a hard time.” he chuckled, pressing his nose into your neck as you walked towards the door.

“thank you wonnie.” you smiled, before reaching up to cup his cheek.

you stared into his big and round eyes. jungwons pupils dilated as you looked at him, his cheeks flushing a rosy color.

his breath hitched as he felt you coming closer, before you eventually sealed your lips together into a soft kiss.

you could taste whatever he was drinking at tip of his tongue. you were practically leaning into jungwon now, so his hands held your waist to prevent you from falling over.

jungwon pulled away, licking his lips before letting you go, holding the door open for you.

“such a gentleman.” you laughed as you were stumbling over yourself.

ningning was waiting outside for you, ready to catch you and walk to the car.

“come on, you’re drunk.” she smiled, helping you settle into the car next to aeri, who gave you a neutral look.

“we’re never coming back here again.” karina sighed, putting the car in ignition before turning out into the road.

[abhorsenkatiel]

Just finished watching the new Adventure Time: Fionna and Cake and I really want to say how much I appreciated the way they handled the Simon and Betty relationship.

I legitimately cringed when they when went into depth about the beginning of their relationship. It was established back at the end of the original series that Betty had made a big sacrifice by giving up her expedition in order to stay with Simon, but now we also learn that she was a student and he was an established professor who she deeply admired when they met. The love between them was genuine, but there was also a very clear power imbalance. I cringed because I believed this would just go unacknowledged, as it does in so many stories, as if the authors are not even aware that such a power dynamic would have an impact on a relationship regardless of how real the love is. Or worse, that such (gendered) power imbalances are a natural thing to be expected in romantic relationships and are therefore not worth commenting on.

But then we get to episode 9, literally titled "Casper and Nova" after the hit-you-over-the-head-with-a-hammer obvious metaphor, and it becomes clear that it was absolutely the writers' intention to highlight and critique the power dynamic of Simon and Betty's relationship. Betty had already realized her part in the tragedy back in the original series, that she had given up her own life too readily and that she regretted it. But now we finally get acknowledgment of Simon's part, that he was irresponsible with Betty's love and devotion. That he didn't see how much he was taking and took for granted how much she was giving up. His tragedy is not that he passively lost Betty to some outside force, but that he made active choices which eroded her autonomy and didn't notice until it was too late. That their relationship, despite being genuinely and passionately loving, was unbalanced from the start, and he used that to his advantage and her detriment even if it was unintentional.

The gendered dynamic of this story is important too. I've met so many women throughout my life, even some who are my age now, who when you ask them about their lives come to a point where they shrug and say some variation of, "and then I met the man who I altered the course of my life for" and that's the end of their story. I remember hearing those stories when I was a child and something about the expression those women made or their phrasing, or their tone of voice gave me a visceral negative reaction. Some of them were openly bitter about it, and told me to never make sacrifices for a man, but even the ones who weren't bitter, who seemed to be happy in genuinely loving relationships, would still give some sense of longing or regret when it came to that part, like they were still thinking about what their life could have been.

It's a common story for women. Even now it's still an expectation that we give up everything for love. It's romantic sure, but I appreciate that we have a story that really makes you look at the tragic side of it as well.

[gilverrwrites]

Forget yourself, surrender your mind.

Black Mask/F!Reader, 2.5K ft. Platonic Jason Todd/Reader AN: So, this is based on a series of frankly depraved, evil, beautiful asks [one], [two], [three], [four]. Thank you so much anon/s! It's been tittering on complete for a while now, but I've been hesitatnt to post if as a I feel like it's missing something, but I can't quite put my finger on it. Maybe I'll post an amended verison at a later date. Hopefully youse don't feel the same, and/or enjoy it anyway. CWs: Swearing, power imbalance, sexual misconduct - Roman is a H/R nightmare, drug use, non-graphic violence, bad drug trip, non-graphic torture, non-graphic blood, manipulation, forced exhibition, public/humiliation, degradation, dumbification/infantilization, a LOT of daddy kink, objectification, isolation, edging, hair pulling, one sided co-dependency, unhealthy coping mechanisms, self-destructive behaviours, very abusive relationship. I am being way over-cautious with this, but basically DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!

“He makes my fucking skin crawl.” Your lips are pulled into a tight scowl as you read the latest text from your boss Roman. “Look at this shit.”

Wear something extra pretty for your shift tomorrow, doll. I have something special planned for you.

Maybe you could understand if you were one of his working girls, you presume they're being paid to fuck him as well as the clientele, but you’re his fucking club's accountant. Despite this, or maybe because of it, he seems to get his kicks trying to coerce his way in your pants, and the more you reject him the more it spurs him on.

Jason considers the message with a frown before snatching your phone and scrolling up. The more inappropriate messages he sees, the more pissed off he looks. Most of it is much of the same, comments on your body and attitude, sometimes it’s worse, pure and unadulterated filth. Occasionally he throws in a legitimate work-related message, which requires an urgent reply. You’re certain he only does the latter to ensure you’re still checking each and every message.

“I told you not to take the job, and I keep telling you to quit.” He finally replies, handing back your phone and crossing his arms. The stormy expression and his imposing stature might be enough to scare anyone else into caving, but this is Jason. Your best friend Jason. You’d been through thick and thin. You’d watched him drunkenly recite Jane Austen in nothing but socks and a fuzzy pink towel for Christ's sake. He doesn’t frighten you. “He’s a creep, why do you keep working for him?”

“The pay is insane.” You reply instantaneously because it is. You’ve almost paid off half your student loan in a matter of months. And that’s on top of all the gifts. You know you shouldn’t take them, blood money and ill-gotten gains blah blah blah but some of it was just too good to turn down. Not to mention the dope. The perks of the job really outweigh the cons, you can deal with Romans vulgar attitude towards you, at least until your loans are paid and your savings account is bloated.

You love Jason dearly, but he’ll blow a fucking gasket if he found out you were taking bribes and drugs from Black fucking Mask. For a casino owner, he’s always been a bit of a stickler. So, you keep that secret for yourself, and you don’t feel bad about it. He has his secrets too. Unfortunately, real life isn’t like an episode of The Sleep Over Club.

“I worry about you.” Jay is still looking at you with that scrutinising glare, too bad it won’t work on you.

“I can handle Roman.” You roll your eyes as you attempt to reassure him. “Really Jay, I promise. He’d have to kill me before I would give him what he wanted.”

That felt so long ago. A far off memory that you hadn’t thought about since before the turning point in your relationship with Roman. It was laughable really. Kill you? Roman saved you.

He’d told you Red Hood was responsible, but you can’t really remember. You’d been high on a bad trip; a newbie had cut the stuff wrong apparently. All you can recall is being lost and alone, unable to command your own body when a bright light hit you out of nowhere, your ears were ringing, and then there was a gun in your face and finally Roman, your knight in a skull-shaped mask.

He’d made let you watch when he’d dealt with the idiot who fucked up the formula, and again you don’t want to remember much, just all that blood, all the screaming, and the thought that you never wanted to be in that position. Red Hood on the other hand was still at large, still a risk, but you weren’t scared of him. Why would you be scared of him when you had Roman. To protect you of course.

All he asked for in exchange was your unwavering submission loyalty.

It was good for you, Roman had helped you in a lot of ways. Keeping you safe, taking the weight off your shoulders. He’d made you realise what an uppity bitch you’d been.

It had been hard at first, accepting what you really are, who you belong to. It went against your core values to swallow your pride and comply to his whims, but you learned that he knew what was best.

The drugs help too. They make it easier to ignore the looks you get. At first, they made you uncomfortable; pitying glances from your former co-workers, judgement and disgust from strangers that cut deeper than you’d thought, mostly lust-filled leering from Roman's followers and his business associates.

But your objectification made Roman happy, and a happy Roman kept you safe happy.

You’re not sure when it happened but eventually, you stopped working, and not worrying about all those numbers felt good. “Don’t think about the money baby just pick whatever you want.”

After numbers came reading, “Those are some big words, why don’t you just point to the pictures.”

Then Roman cleverly pointed out that you didn't need a phone. Carrying around a phone usually meant carrying around a bag, and the ugly old bag you'd had since college really clashed with your pretty dresses.

Besides, what would you do with a phone? Text? Words are hard. Videos? Too much fake news out there, it would only scare you. Call someone? Who? You had everything you need right here.

Giving up decision-making came so naturally after that. “Don’t worry Princess. Daddy knows what you need.”

Roman Daddy helps a lot, he keeps you in line, reminds you of your place. Sometimes you need a firm hand and he’s never been afraid to give it to you. But mostly he just keeps you grounded.

Like now. It would be easy to focus on the hard sticky floor digging into your knees. To feel shame at wilfully allowing someone to treat you like this, at the idea of being watched in such a degrading position by the patrons of the bar or the man on the other side of the table. But you have Daddy to keep you focused. The scratchy feel of his slacks on your cheeks, his fingers in your hair, petting you like a good girl.

The best part is the muskiness of his crotch against your nose. He smells so yummy! It’s a challenge not to stick your tongue out and taste him. The last time you’d done that you’d gotten carried away, drooling all over him, making a large wet patch on his expensive trousers and getting drool everywhere. He’d punished you by having you clean up as much of the remaining excess with your mouth. That meant sucking at the velvety pillowed fabric of the chair and licking the filth-trodden floor. You’d hated every second, but you’d been happy to do it, eager to convince Daddy to keep you.

And it worked!

The memory of it, helps you to stave off the urge to make out with his clothed groin right now. What doesn’t help is the throbbing clit between your legs. Daddy edges you multiple times a day but rarely does he let you cum, that way you’re always wet and needy and ready for his cock. The punishment for trying to get off without him? More proof of Daddy's brilliance. The thought of it dampens any impulse to alleviate the constant ache. You’d broken down and apologised before it even began, begged him to make it stop but he’d had you sit through the whole thing; an hour with your legs open, completely exposed to the False-Facers. No fucking, but otherwise they could do what they liked, touching, slapping, pinching, spitting, and that they did. Your lesson had been learned; that your pussy wasn’t yours. It, along with the rest of your body belongs to Daddy, not you and he can do as he pleases with it.

The hand in your hair suddenly tightens its grip, drawing you from your thoughts and guiding your head back to look at Daddy as he asks; “What are you think about baby?”

“You!” You smile at the sight of his handsome mask.

Cold glass brushes against your lips and you open up, tilting your head back to allow him to pour the sweet liquid in. It burns as it passes through your throat and makes your eyes water. You think you didn’t like cocktails like this before, but Daddy says you love them, and Daddy is always right.

“Good girl.” He coos, making you feel all warm and fuzzy with pride. “You’ve been so well-behaved today, why don’t you come sit on my lap and meet my new friend.”

“Thank you, Daddy!” You clamber to get closer to him, sitting across his lap and leaning the side of your head against his chest. You’re enjoying his warmth and the feel of his hands on your body when you hear something odd. A deep voice shouts a word you recognise but can’t define and it pings around the empty walls of your tiny brain.

“This is Jason Todd.” Daddy’s still talking, big words you don’t care about like ‘shareholder’ and ‘investing’ as he finds a place to settle his wandering hands. One supports your weight, cupping your ass. The other shamelessly gropes your breast, twisting and pinching your pert nipple through the sheer fabric of your dress. A loud, pornographic moan escapes your glossy lips as you relish in Daddy's attention until you hear that word again.

“It’s me. It’s Jason.” It’s the same voice, chipping away in your unconscious. “It’s Jason Todd.”

Jason. Jason Todd. Another sound that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Jay-son Todd.

Jay-son.

Jay.

Finally, you look at the stranger, his mouth is moving. It’s his voice you’d heard before, he says the word again and you think you should know it, but you can’t quite grasp it.

“Have you met Jason before, baby?” Daddy's hold on you tightens, biting into half-healed wounds partially hidden by your clothes.

At the same time, the stranger barks, making you jump. “What the fuck?”

And then that word again and this time it clicks.

It’s your name.

You forgot your own name.

Shame hits you like a bucket of ice water. Trickling through your body in waves as it all comes back to you. And the man, that’s…

“Jason!” Your best friend Jason. “What are you doing here?”

God, what must he think of you; doing tricks like a damn dog for Daddy a man you swore you’d never let touch you.

“Looking for you.” He’s on his feet and towering over you in seconds. He has such a substantial frame. You always thought you’d recognise it anywhere. “I haven’t heard from you in months.”

Months? Had it really been months?

“Your phone line is dead. I went to your apartment and all your shit was on the curb. You’ve not been paying your bills or watering your plants. I thought you were dead.”

Concern is etched into his blue-green eyes and it’s too much. The indignity of your behaviour, the guilt at making him worry, making him come here looking for you, all those words. So many words. Roman says your brain isn’t meant for lots of words.

Jason grabs you, his meaty hand clutching onto your upper arm and attempting to pull you toward him. It does not have the desired effect, the rational part of your brain snaps under the stress of the overwhelming situation like he’s shining a spotlight on you in your most vulnerable moment, like he’s attacking you, and you can think of nothing in this world you want less than to go with him.

“Daddy!” While Jason’s tug is enough to send a jolt through your body, to your relief it isn’t enough to pull you from Daddy's arms. Instinctively, you pull his arm closer for comfort, unaware of how you’d been digging your nails into the sleeve of his suit jacket until you utilise it as a safety net. “Make him stop.”

The look on Jason’s the man’s face is that of pure horror. It hurts to look at, so you nestle deeper against Daddy's chest, soothed by the way it shakes as he chuckles, despite the evident venom lacing the sound. His neck is a deep shade of red. Angry veins bulge with each beat of his battery-powered heart. “You heard her, kid. Take a hike.”

“I’m not leaving without her you sick fuck.” And then the man puts his other hand on you, this one cupping your face, encouraging you to look at him. He’s trying to console you. Instead, he frightens you. “You don’t have to stay here. Whatever he’s got on you, we...”

You let the words pass in one ear and out the other, with no desire to retain any of it.

Daddy is not going to like this. Not only had the scary man tricked him, but now he’s touching you. Trying to take you away. Daddy is really not going to like this.

The man tries once more to snatch your body and this time he succeeds. You squeal as your body harshly lurches forward. Your fears are cut shut, however. Daddy protects you, grabbing you ruthlessly by the throat and kicking the back of your heel. You go limp, allowing his vice-like hold on your neck to lead you back to the floor.

"You Wayne's think you own every fucking thing." Daddy strikes the table with his fist, and something wet slashes into your face, followed by a loud shattering sound. You don't care.

"Don't compare me to him. He's got nothing to do with this."

"Like father like fucking son. You're under my roof boy, and you have the nerve to put your hands on my shit!"

It’s becoming a spectacle. People are watching. You don’t want to look, don't want to listen.

Closing your eyes, you kneel in front of the booth, settling your head onto the warm space where Daddy had been sitting.

They’re both shouting, it makes your head hurt. Something cool is seeping down your face. What sounds like a gun goes off. Once, twice, three times. You don’t care. You don’t want to care. You want to go back to ten minutes ago when your head was empty, and your Daddy was happy.

His lingering scent helps you find that headspace until he returns.

“Look at me.” Once again, he uses your hair to yank your head back, directing you to face him. Despite the way you wail in surprise, the sting is a welcomed reassurance that you’re where you belong. Dark red blood mars his white suit. You don’t look for a body or an injury. You just keep looking at Daddy. “Oh, my poor baby, you’re shaking. It’s okay, Daddies here.”

Daddy puts you at ease.

[invece-sto-sdraiato]

My experience of watching House MD with my mom (a government certified dermatologist):

It was surprisingly such a bonding experience for us, now that I think about it. It was kind of our thing. I would ask her many questions about the technical stuff (biology lover here) and she would explain all of it to me. There were so many days when we would just discuss whatever happened in an episode, for hours. She didn’t mind any of the malpractice stuff (compared to what happens in Indian hospitals sometimes, house barely scratches the surface)

And I used to get so….idk exasperated at house’s cynicism towards others, while she didn’t give a thought about it. This is a woman who is currently in an administrative position (Associate Professor, to be exact) and she’s told me about the absolute shit some of her colleagues/subordinates have given her. I mean, she’s seen it all. She’s probably met people like house.

Coming back to the technics, she used to talk admiringly about how (mostly) accurate the med stuff was, and how there’s a lot of research gone into the writing of the show. And house’s discussion with the others using a whiteboard. I think that was what really made her like this show. I’ll elaborate.

This happened today:

Mom: “Last week, I was asking my students about the different dermatological diagnoses they’ve encountered in recent cases. And then, I asked them if any of them had ever watched House.” (She occasionally teaches post-graduate med students)

Me: “Really? Uh…. you asked them if they’ve watched House…of all the possible medical dramas?”

Mom: *eye roll* “Anyways, some of them said yes. And then I explained, how their method of determining the differential diagnosis is quite useful. Listing it all on a whiteboard, you know, it helps to clearly see where you stand and how to further proceed from there. And House gives the others freedom to express their opinions and doubts.”

Dad, suddenly: “He’ll list all possible diagnoses, and there’s times even when he has to strike out all of them. But none of them show any frustration and they keep brainstorming until they find the correct one. That can be so useful in daily life, you know?”

Me: “huh, I suppose you’re right.”

Dad: “They’re using something known as the ‘first principle thinking’ in psychology. It means that you refrain from making assumptions, and you go right to the basics, to find a solution.”

So. Idk what to say now. Maybe just that I have a lot of good memories pertaining to House. But obviously, being the teenager that I am, I was very interested in the hilson side of things (even if those two are seriously fucked up) but I also loved watching House for the technical stuff and used to get pretty excited if I even knew a bit about whatever illness was in an episode (a nerd’s a nerd 😅) sorry for the long post.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.2 K Warnings: none Prompt: As Hogwarts days begin, challenges arise, with exhilarating morning flights, and laughter filled environments. Secret struggles surface but a caring gesture from Remus and the Marauders promises to uplift spirits and forge lasting bonds. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Good times

As you walked inside the Gryffindor common room for the first time Lily was sitting on the couch, but stood up the minute you showed up “There you are! I was worried sick!” She told Remus, gave James a look of disdain and turned back to the taller boy  “I thought you’d be faster to bring her here.” 

“The staircase wasn’t cooperating,” Remus explained. “We had to use a different path.” 

“At least you didn’t get caught.” She said taking a deep breath and sitting back down on the couch, now finally relaxing a bit. 

“I brought some food from the kitchens,” said Peter, pulling out a kerchief tied at the top and placing it on the table in front of the fire. “It’s just some scones with cream and jam, but I thought we might get hungry.” 

“Thanks, Pete,” Lily said as she untied the knot and the top and grabbed one of the little treats. 

Then the portrait opened again, letting someone else inside. 

You stood just behind Remus, turned towards Lily rather than the entrance but the moment you heard that voice, you froze. It's Sirius.

“Excellent job guys!” He said with a bright smile. Remus turned to him and shot a warning look, to point out they weren’t alone. Sirius saw Lily and nodded “With the evacuation of the great hall–“ he corrected “It was brilliant how you handled it, Lils, Moony, you’re both top tier prefects.” 

James rolled his eyes but then a smile appeared on his face, a very James-like smile in fact, filled with charm and mischievousness. “We’ve actually got something to show you.” He said and unexpectedly pulled you from behind Remus in a way that you’d end up facing Sirius instead. 

And damned merlin, Sirius was even more beautiful than you remembered. You’d like to think you’d made peace with the idea of being ghosted, with the idea of never seeing Sirius again, but standing right in front of him, now taller, with broader shoulders, longer hair, and the same stunning eyes, made you want to apparate to anywhere but there. So you just awkwardly smiled and waved, hoping he wouldn’t just storm out of the place without even saying a word.

“(Y/N)? What… what are you doing here?” He asked with a frown.

“Hey to you too, old pal,” you said, struggling to not sound as awkward as you felt. 

“She’s here Pads!” Said James excitedly, “She’s gonna study with us!” 

“Yeah,” Peter added, “She transferred this year like you wished she would back in the day.” 

To that you raised an eyebrow, you’d seen his friends get excited when you introduced yourself to them, but it seemed weird that after ghosting you, Sirius told his friends he wished you were a student in Hogwarts “And here I thought you’d never want to see me again,” you said with a bit of a teasing smile towards him, trying to hide the doubt that still lingered in your brain. Could it really be that it had all been some kind of misunderstanding? 

“What?” He asked, visibly confused.

“Since you never replied to any of my letters…” 

He seemed shocked for a moment and then exhaled in a defeated tone “Walburga.” 

“Your mom?” You asked frowning before it downed you “Your mom.” 

He nodded “I did always wonder why you never tried to reach out.” 

You thought about what he said for a moment and then smiled “Seems like we have a lot to catch up on then.” 

Then James placed an arm on top of Sirius's shoulder “And I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to do that, but now we must go to bed. Tomorrow we’re flying first thing in the morning. We gotta practice before we open the tryouts.”

“Which positions are you missing?” You asked him before anyone had the chance to stop you. Once James started talking about quidditch, it was hard to get him to shut up again.

“We lost a keeper and 2 chasers,” James explained “They were from 7th and graduated last summer.”

“And you fly in the mornings, always?” You asked surprised. 

“Gotta stay in top shape, I’m the captain after all.” 

“Oh, that’s amazing. Mind if I join you tomorrow? I wanna test my luck on the tryouts.” 

He raised an eyebrow “Which position?” 

“Uh… I used to play seeker,” he winced at that, “but I’ll try for keeper I guess, I’ve got good eyes for catching things,” you replied with a smile. 

“Careful Potter, she may come take your place!” Sirius teased, “All though, for all I know she might be terrible at flying.” 

With Sirius teasing you like that, it was as if all those years hadn’t gone by, no resentments, no suffering. Just the two of you, continuing on where you left off. “Oh, isn’t that right? You promised me a race a couple of years ago, but that never played out.” 

“Is that a challenge?” He asked but when you were about to reply Lily stood up and placed her arm over your shoulder. 

“Might have been,” She said “But we must now go to our room,” she said pointing at you and herself “and you must go back to sleep if you really want to wake up at 5AM.” 

“5 AM?” Frowned Sirius. 

“Classes start at 7 tomorrow, if you want enough time for flying and breakfast, you’ll have to get up then.” She said before dragging you towards the stairs.

You turned your head, finding it hard to stop staring at Sirius, it was almost like a dream. “Good night boys,” You said, waving at them as you followed behind Lily, Sirius also had a hard time to stop staring at you as you walked next to the red headed girl. 

As you were halfway up the stairs she whispered “It’s a terrible idea to challenge Sirius like that, knowing him, he’ll make a spectacle of the race.” 

You stopped for a minute, looking at Lily with a cocky grin “It’s only a bad idea if I lose.” 

She rolled her eyes with a smile “I barely know you, and so far I can tell you’re just as thick headed as that lot,” she said as she nodded towards them. “Let’s go, I’ll show you our room.” 

“We’re together?” You asked with a smile. 

She nodded, mirroring your expression “We were the only room with only 3 girls.” 

Inside the room were Mary and Marlene, Mary was sitting on her bed while reading a book and Marlene was drying her hair with a towel near a door, which you assumed would be the bathroom. “That’s your bed,” Marlene said, pointing at the bed closest to the door. “It was here when we got to the room, that’s how we figured you’d be with us.” 

“That and the trunk with your name on it,” said Mary looking up from her book “We thought you’d gotten lost in the ordeal, but Lily told us you were with Remus.” 

“We would’ve gone out to find you otherwise,” added Marlene. “Lily wanted to go even if you were with Remus but we told her you’d be alright.” 

“You wanted to go get me?” You asked, turning towards her.

“I felt responsible for leaving you on the stairs,” she explained “I didn’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” 

“Thank you,” You told her with a smile. Lily went for a shower and you started to unpack your stuff. Marlene approached you when you pulled your broom out and you talked about quidditch until Lily was out of the shower, at which point you let Marlene have the broom and went for a shower yourself. 

When you were back in the room Marlene had already placed your broom on a broom stand on the wall. “It deserved to be admired,” she’d said when you noticed and you nodded with a smile. After that, you’d all gotten comfortable in your beds and the lights were turned off.

“Good night girls,” You said with a smile, after months of feeling lonely, you finally started to feel like you belonged somewhere again. And you were so glad the hat had placed you in Gryffindor, with these girls, who had been all incredibly nice to you, and you were even happy you’d met Remus and his friends, who seemed like they would get you in so many adventures and mischief. 

In the morning you were awoken by a small little metal bird picking on your face lightly, it was your mom’s gift before you got to the school, a very elegant cuckoo clock, she’d bought at a furniture store in Diagon Alley. Even if it took you a minute to fully comprehend what was going on you silently stood up and changed, pulling a thick wool sweater over your head and a pair of training pants, thick and sturdy in case of falls. All though, because they were the same you had since you were in the team back at your older school, they were a little tighter than you remembered. Perhaps you really had a growth spurt over the summer. 

 You grabbed a pair of goggles, your broom, and sneaked out of the room without making any noise. James was already in the common room, tapping his foot as he looked up at the stairs, hair just as messy as the day you’d met him. He looked up at you and smiled. “How is it that you take less time to get ready than Sirius?” He said and then took a deep breath “I guess it  is because it’s Sirius who’s getting ready.” You raised your eyebrows in response “He’s brushing his hair,” James complained. You just laughed, longer hair’s harder to care for, but being told about Sirius’ vanity by his roommate was just hilarious. That was when Potter noticed your broom “Is that a Dark Nimbus?” He asked, staring at it from behind. 

You nodded “Brand new, mom got it for me to try and make me feel better about moving.” 

He stood up and got closer to take a look at it “It’s stunning!” He said with a smile as he accommodated his glasses to see better. “I have a Starmist,” he said pointing towards his broom behind him. “I got it last year, I'd like to see how she fares against your Nimbus.” 

“Well, we’ll get to see it today,” You replied with a smile, that’s when you heard a door close and the two of you turned towards Sirius, who was walking down the stairs with a SweepFire he’d had for a couple of years, but that looked well cared for, it had been James’.

“Why are you wearing green?” He asked as soon as he saw you. 

You looked down at your sweater and saw it change to burgundy right in front of your eyes, frowning and turning towards him “Did you just… magic dyed my sweater into a different colour?” 

“Can’t be seen flying around with someone wearing Slytherin house colours,” he said as he continued walking towards the door “It’d ruin my reputation.” 

You raised your eyebrows and gave James a questioning look, he just shrugged in response and followed behind Sirius, you caught up with him shortly after. As you walked down towards the patio James told you all about being Team Captain and how he had to make sure everyone was in top shape. “After the tryouts, it’s not just gonna be flying in the mornings, we’ll have practice at least 4 times a week with the whole team.”

Once on the patio, the three of you got on your brooms. And per James’s instructions did 5 laps around the castle. It was a chilly morning, so you were glad you’d put on the thicker sweater. Once you were done James pulled a quaffle and you all passed it between each other. At some point, He shot it a little farther behind you and you had to fly back to get it, bumping into Sirius and causing him to lose balance.

You responded quickly, stabilising his broom with yours and pulling his arm to stop him from falling, he’d managed to catch the quaffle with his other hand. James had flown towards the two of you as quickly as he could but by the time he arrived you were already pulling Sirius back up and laughing about it. “Maybe we should get some of those muggle hooks so you don’t fall off your broom,” you told him with a small knock on his arm. 

“Hey, even without them, I’ve caught it more times than you!” He said with a proud smile. 

“Not true!” You said trying to take it from his hands “That was my catch!” You nodded towards the ball in his hand as you attempted to grab it, Sirius used one of his hands to keep you back while he stretched the other arm to maintain the quaffle out of your grip. 

“This one? But it’s in my hands.” 

“No! I caught you, you caught it, it’s mine by right of catching you first.” 

James raised his eyebrows at the exchange and smiled mischievously as he flew towards Sirius' other arm and grabbed the quaffle, flying as fast as possible in another direction. He loved flying, like he always had, but he loved the fact that his best friend was genuinely smiling even more. It wasn’t very often that Sirius smiled like that since he’d run away from his house over the summer.

“Oi!” Sirius complained as he saw James fly by and then turned towards you with a look, with a small smile and a raise of his eyebrows he communicated his plan. 

You nodded mirroring his expression and the two of you turned your brooms towards James, flying side by side to corner him. 

Once by his side, the two of you threw your hands toward James and tried to take the ball from him. Sirius managed to take it and from slightly above shouted, “Whoever gets to the courtyard with the quaffle in their hands wins!” He then threw the ball as far as he could. 

You smiled at that and plummeted towards the direction the quaffle was thrown. You caught it just before it reached the floor. 

James, who was still stunned by having the ball stolen from his hands so quickly, saw the entire thing from his broom “Wow!” he said genuinely surprised “She’s really good.” He then flew towards Sirius, who had already managed to take the ball from your hands. You managed to get your hands on the ball again and flew backwards towards James. 

“Hey, James!” You called the boy, flying upside down above him “Would you mind telling me where the courtyard is?” You asked politely. 

He gave you a pouty look and flew upwards, taking the quaffle back in an unexpected movement. And as he flew ahead turned back with a teasing smile “Sure thing (Y/N), I’ll take you there!” He shouted before flying towards the courtyard with the quaffle itself in his hands. 

“You cheat!” You shouted with a grin and flew behind him, trying to catch up. Sirius was already hovering close to the courtyard and was planning to stop James by flying in front of him, but didn’t realise you were flying so close behind him that the moment the three of you were close enough you all crashed onto each other and started falling a few feet towards the grass. 

“Arresto Momentum!” Someone screamed from the courtyard and the three of you froze for a moment, once you moved again the impulse forced the three of you towards the grass, pulling a couple of metres of it along with the you. The brooms had gone flying in all directions and then, you all ended up tangled against each other. 

“James?!” Asked Lily who had been the one to cast the spell. “What in the bloody– Are you wankers?!” 

The moment you saw her you started laughing, so much so that you didn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so openly, you were almost crying. Sirius and James laughed alongside you, as Lily stared with apprehension. You soon realised you had your head on top of Sirius' back and your feet under James’ torso. When the laughter died out the three of you helped each other stand up. You had scraped your knee and leg, James had scraped his arm and Sirius’ lip was parted. 

Lily started scolding you once you were up “Look at you three! You could’ve gotten seriously hurt!” She said and then gave Sirius a warning look before he made it a joke of his name “You can’t pull (Y/N) into your dangerous games like that!” 

“But she started it,” complained Sirius brattily “She almost threw me off my broom.” 

“That was an accident!” you argued back with your finger raised. “I was gonna catch the ball.” 

“You shouldn’t reverse without looking first,” he said with both of his hands raised in defence “basic flying principles.” 

“But I did look! You appeared out of nowhere.” 

Lily rolled her eyes and took a deep breath as he saw the two of you bicker. Then James started to look around “So who won?” He asked with a frown, to which Lily crossed her arms and stared at him. 

“Well, I had the ball right before we reached the floor,” You said.

“Yeah, but it fell off your hands as soon as you took it from James and bounced back straight to my face,” He said pointing at his parted lip. 

“ALL RIGHT! “ said Lily, shutting everyone up with a clap. “Nobody won, you’re all losers, now, I’m gonna take (Y/N) back to the room so she can put on her uniform before breakfast. I’m sure Marlene should have something to put on her scrape.” 

“What about mine?” Asked James pulling his arm up with a pout. 

“Well you can take care of it yourselves, after all you know full well where the nurses’ office is,” she responded and pulled you towards the castle. 

“Please tell me you will be more careful next time you fly with them?” She said stopping you before you reached the stairs and looking straight into your eyes “I know it can be tempting to play their game but, James and Sirius don’t have a straight sense of danger, I swear they’ve been to the nurse's office over 100 times each.” 

You nodded “I got caught up in the fun,” You said as you started to feel the pain in your leg once the adrenaline faded “Lily, I hadn’t flown like that in, years,” you admitted “I wasn’t thinking when I launched myself behind Potter and then Sirius came out of nowhere,” you told her “I couldn’t break on time.” 

“On quidditch games there’s supervision. Who knows how much worse you’d be if I hadn’t been there!” She said finally exhaling. You looked down and nodded. Then she leaned in closer “But I do believe you won,” she whispered with a small smile motioning for you to follow behind her. 

That left you stunned. Up until that moment, you’d thought Lily was all about following the rules and not having all that much fun, especially since she was a prefect. But that moment proved you wrong. Oh the adventures you’d have with her in the castle, they all awaited you. 

Lily took you back to your dorm where you took a really fast shower and changed into your uniform. Marlene didn’t really have anything for your scrape but Mary did, she wanted to become a Mediwitch so she’d been testing some simple potions back at home and gave you one. The pain had gone in an instant but the area still looked scraped when you pulled your socks over half of it. After that, the four of you walked towards the dining hall together to have breakfast. 

Once you arrived you saw the boys sitting all together on the farther side of the table, along with most people of your year. There was an empty spot next to Remus, who had his head buried in a book, so you sat next to him, Lily plopped down right next to you while Mary and Marlene sat in the front. 

“How are you?” asked Remus as Lily talked about the schedule with Beth and another girl from your year, you looked at him confused and he nodded towards your leg “Heard about the fall, how Lily saved your asses,” he explained. 

“Oh,” you replied “Well, It’s alright, looks a lot worse than it feels,” you said pointing at your leg, “Mary gave me some cream potion ting to put on wherever the pain comes back.” 

“Want some chocolate?” He said, pulling a small bar from his pocket “It always helps when I’m feeling beaten down.” 

You nodded, he broke a piece off and handed it over to you. It was rather soft from his body heat, but you preferred soft chocolate to the hard bars so you enjoyed it quite a lot “How are the boys?” You asked him. 

“Oh don’t worry about them,” he told you “They’re used to being scraped all over, they said they had lots of fun tho, it was nice seeing Sirius happy about morning flying, he usually complains about James forcing him to wake up early and ruining his beauty sleep.” 

“Beauty sleep?” You asked while holding back a laugh “With those words?” 

Remus nodded, smiling too “You’d be surprised by the kind of things he says sometimes, with his posh vocabulary. He’s like a princess.” 

“Well I mean he does look like one,” you agreed and tensed right after, but Remus only nodded while glancing at Sirius. 

Then Lily gently tapped on your forearm, “hurry and finish up,” she said, nodding at your plate, “our first class starts in 15, and we still have to walk there.” You nodded in response and started munching on your toast faster, gulping down your tea along the way to help the bread soften in your mouth. 

When everyone was standing up you grabbed your leftover bread, threw some hazelnut spread on it and bent it from corner to corner, to take it along with you. And then you followed everyone towards your first class.

 In the classroom, a very small teacher, standing on top of a podium, awaited for you to arrive. He introduced himself as Professor Flitwick, but you quickly realised that he had only done it for you since everyone else already knew him. He mentioned something about how in this class you’d learn wordless magic and started to explain the basic concepts of it. You, as the rest of them, took notes of the things the teacher was saying with your quill. 

After Charms, you had Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall, which had been, in all honesty, rather complicated for you. While you were certain McGonagall was a brilliant teacher, you had a hard time grasping the art of turning teapots into ferrets and ferrets into teapots, and that was without even thinking about the fact that down the line, you’d have to transform people into animals too.  

Your third class was divination, and while you were relatively good at it, you were never really attracted to the art of predicting the future, since you’d had bad experiences in the past. Divination is only fun if you’re guessing good things that will happen, like who will win the Quidditch Championship or small things like “It’ll rain tomorrow.” But when you guess sad or tragic things, people stop liking it, and you along the process, that’s why you had dropped the course back in your old school. Unfortunately, you couldn’t do that here, since it wasn’t an optional class. 

A tall dark skinned professor walked inside the round classroom that stood in the farthest part of the North Tower. He was wearing a long green robe and had a very mysterious aura going around him. “My name is Aurelius Spellman,” he said in a very deep voice “I’ve met some of you before, some of you are in my class for the first time ever, but, be certain, I know each and every single one of you.” You were sitting next to Marlene in that class and you raised your eyebrows at her in a poking manner, she giggled.

“McKinnon, (Y/LN), Would you mind sharing the joke?” He said turning to face you. You instantly sat straighter and shook your head, “I’d like to see if what I’ve heard from Professor Ashbourne is true, she wrote to me all about your talents.” He said, giving you a stern look. 

“I have no talent sir,” you lied, Ashbourne had been your divination teacher back in your older school, she had continuously pressured you to pursue your abilities until you predicted something that made you quit it for good. You did not like Professor Ashbourne one bit. “My predictions are rarely any  accurate, I’m especially bad with classic fortune telling such as Xylomancy and Arithmancy.” 

“What about cards?” He said placing an old Spanish deck on your table. 

You took a deep breath and pushed them back “I thought we were going to follow the curriculum,” you said steadily, “Don’t we have to do runes first?” 

He raised an eyebrow at you “Miss (Y/LN) is -in fact- correct, 10 points for Gryffindor, this first unit we will be looking at the art of reading ancient runes. Please open your books on page 50. Potter, start reading, will you?” You exhaled the moment he started paying attention to James’ reading instead of you. 

At the end of the class, he divided some stacks of runes and handed them over to the students at random. You had to study their meanings and write what the runes would mean when combined with other things. It was really easy since you had already done runes in your old school, but you were thankful you weren’t actually reading someone’s future and had just a random set of runes instead. 

Once the class was over you rushed outside as fast as possible, escaping while some girls walked towards the teacher to ask him about the meaning of some runes, you really didn’t want him to call you regarding the whole Ashbourne thing. You had walked down the stairs so fast you didn’t even realise you’d left everyone behind, you leaned back onto a wall and allowed yourself to rest for a bit, heavy breaths becoming softer the more time passed. 

Remus spotted you from a couple of steps higher as he walked down, and after noticing your distress decided to approach you. “You all right?” He asked softly, as if not to startle you. 

You turned to him and blinked a couple of times before you managed to ground yourself. This was Hogwarts, that was Remus, and you only had to read random runes here, you didn’t need to predict anyone’s future. You nodded in response. “I got wrapped up in my thoughts for a moment,” you excused yourself “I’m not a big fan of divination.”

“I don’t know about your old professor, but Spellman will not pressure you into anything,” he reassured “Besides he already has a star student of his own,” he said nodding towards a small Ravenclaw girl with thick-rimmed glasses who was passing by. 

“Sybill?” You asked, raising one of your eyebrows.

Remus nodded, tilting his head towards you as he spoke “last name is Trelawney.” 

“Hold up, that Trelawney?” 

He nodded again and then smiled “Let’s go get some food, I wanna show you something,” he said and started walking downwards. 

You eyed him suspiciously and followed behind. Instead of taking you to the great hall, he took a deviation, walking down a long spiral staircase until you arrived to a long passageway. There seemed to be nothing but a couple of portraits there. Remus approached one of them, used his wand to make a little pear on the painting to move, and all of the sudden, the portrait opened itself like a door would, just like the entrance to the Gryffindor common room. 

There was a rather narrow and short passageway, and finally, you found the kitchens, an enormous room, about the same size as the Great Hall, with tables positioned in the exact same layout. “The elves use the tables to magically take the food from here to the great hall, it’s right above us,” he whispered as he noticed you observing. 

He then kindly asked some of the domestic elves there to pack some food for you. You saw Nimbletwist among them and waved at her. She smiled and waved back. Once the food was ready the elves handed them over to Remus and he thanked them. You followed behind him as he led you outside. When you approached the door of the castle he pulled a small paper plane from the inside pocket of his robe and swished his wand over it. The plane took off towards one of the halls. 

You frowned as you looked at the plane fly off “The boys?” You asked. 

He nodded, “So they bring dessert.” From then he walked out and guided you through the grounds all the way to the lake.

He pulled out a cloth and extended it over the floor “A picnic?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. 

“It’s a wonderful day,” he said with his arms wide open. 

You looked up with a bit of a frown. “It looks like it may rain soon.” 

“This is England love, it always looks like it might rain soon,” he said plopping down on top of the cloth and pulling out some of the food the domestic elves had prepared. 

Which reminded you of something you wanted to ask “Do they just… give food to whoever asks nicely?” You asked. 

“Most of the students don’t know where the kitchens are,” Remus explained. “Peter found them in second year when we were exploring the castle’s secret passages, he befriended the elves, they give us food whenever we ask them now.” He said as he patted the side for you to also sit on the cloth, you complied. Once you sat beside him he pointed at the lake “Whenever I’m feeling down, I like to come here,” he explained “The giant squid comes out every now and then, it’s relaxing to see him swimming around without any worries to perturb him.” 

Sitting next to Remus, with the light watery breeze, you thought back to the day you’d met him, and how he’d looked like a pirate from the cover of a spicy novel to you. He still looked as handsome as one, but he had much more depth than just a hot pirate. Layers, you thought, this boy has so many layers. You turned to look at the lake and saw the giant squid he’d been talking about. It floated aimlessly for a minute and then went back under the water, it really was as peaceful as Remus had described. 

As you stared at the water you grabbed one of the pork pies and started munching on it “Oh, these are incredible,” you said as you took another bite. 

He nodded “They’re Sirius’ favourites, thought you may like them,” he said as he grabbed his own. As the two of you talked about charms and transfiguration James, Sirius and Peter arrived. 

Peter, who was carrying a basket in his hands, sat down next to you, and turned to Remus as he grabbed a pork pie, “You brought her to your spot.”

“Yeah, she seemed like she needed it,” Remus replied with a shrug, “you guys brought the desserts?” 

Sirius and James were quick to sit in front of the three of you, closing the circle completely. “I got some of those meringue pies you really like,” said Sirius, looking at Remus attentively “and chocolate pudding too.” 

James nodded “he used all his charms on the kitchens,” and then he turned to you “By the way, the Gryffindor tryouts will be on Friday at four,” he said giving you a look “I’ll see you there, yeah?” You nodded in response, “But you won’t get any special treatment just because we’re friends,” he said in a warning tone, you laughed. 

“Yeah right, of course, the Gryffindor Team Captain can’t have a bias,” you replied with a smile as you gave him a small nudge and finished your pie. 

“Which class do we have next?” Asked Peter.

“How do you manage to keep your head in the clouds all the time Wormy?” Asked Sirius as he threw himself back, letting his hair sprawl on the grass, looking absolutely carefree as he took a piece of chocolate fudge to his mouth, looking absolutely prince-like, as always. 

“Wormy?” You asked, turning to Peter. 

“It’s a long story,” he exhaled, “short for Wormtail.”

“Wormtail? Now that’s even worse!” You said with a frown. “But you all gave weird names to each other right? Sirius is Pads, and…” you turned to Remus “You’re Moony.”

“Padfoot actually,” corrected Sirius as he took another bite of his fudge and then pointed at James “He’s Prongs.” 

“Wow, and that’s what you call your friends? I wouldn’t wanna be your enemy…” 

Remus chuckled lightly, looking amused and eventually turned to Peter “It’s Herbology?”

“Herbology?” you asked, turning to Remus with a frown. 

“Last class of the day too, why?” 

“I’m… exceptionally good at getting plants to die,” You explained “Theory and memory, that’s no problem, but keeping them alive… Let’s just say… it’s not among my talents.”

“Wormy’s really good,” said James “And Evans, I’m sure they’d give you a hand.” 

“Last year he kept my plant alive,” Sirius said in agreement “And Moony’s, when he was out of it.” 

Remus pulled his sleeve up a bit and checked his watch, which let you see he had some more scars up his arms as well, “All right boys, time to get going, we need to be at the greenhouses in 15.” 

Sirius took a deep breath and sat back down, joining the rest of you as you put everything back in the basket, Peter held it as the boys guided you to Herbology. 

Marlene was the first one to spot you as you were entering the castle, and she called in for Lily, “Hey Lils, she’s not lost, she was with the boys.” 

At that moment you left the boys behind and walked towards them, “you were looking for me?” You asked her when you stood in front of her. 

“Marlene mentioned how uncomfortable you were at divination, we were waiting for you at the great hall and when you didn’t arrive we started to worry, in my first year I got lost rather often, and some parts of the castle can be very dangerous,” she said stressing the last bit. 

You were moved by how caring Lily was of you, you’d met the girl only a day ago and she’d been more worried about you when she’d thought you got lost than your damn parents when you were exploring muggle London for a week, touching your house only for a dash of sleep before disappearing pretty early in the morning, Lily would be a great mother, you thought. “The boys took me for a picnic,” you explained, “that’s why we didn’t go to the great hall.” 

��She nodded “I should’ve guessed, you’ve gotten chummy with them already.” 

“Well, they are fun to hang out with,” you shrugged, “and of course, I already knew Sirius.” 

“You did?” She frowned, to which you nodded. 

“Met him a couple of years ago on a family vacation,” you explained. 

“Hold up! A couple of years ago? Are you talking about Sirius’ vacation in Mexico?” 

You nodded, “yeah, why?”  Lily started laughing 

“Sirius was hung up on you almost the entire year,” Marlene said as she caught up with you “We knew he’d met a mystery girl when Peter accidentally let it out.” 

“Oh, Was he?” You said with a cheeky smile “You girls are just giving me more fuel to tease him.” 

“Please do! He literally had all the girls crying because he kept ignoring their love letters. Throwing them to the fire and eating the treats he was sent. I was tired of girls asking me to introduce them formally.” 

You laughed while shaking your head, “Ahhh.. this is gonna be a fun year.” 

Soon enough, you all arrived at your classroom. The teacher introduced himself as Mr. Folly and started explaining some of the curative benefits of Spellvine and how it was especially helpful for potions to treat pain. You noticed Mary was especially attentive in class, you guessed it had to do with her goal of becoming a Mediwitch. While you wrote down all the special needs and care specificities of Spellvine the teacher handed everyone their own seed. It was going to be the course’s objective to grow said plant from scratch. 

After class, you went back to the common room and Lily decided to show you the way to the library, so you could do research for homework. Inviting you again to her and Remus’ study group, she said the first session would be on Wednesday. Eventually you went back to the Great Hall and you had dinner with everyone and finally, went back to your shared room.  

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Raead more Marauders Fiction

A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

[whatever-letmebe]

Sex is Not for Everyone, Actually

Playboyy is a show all about sex. Half of the characters are horny, gay college students, the other half are equally horny, equally gay (former) sex workers. At first glance, Zouey is an outlier. He is a quiet art student who likes to watch hentai but has never had sex with another person. He’s the only virgin in his friend group and gets teased for it. His friends are so invested in “helping” Zouey lose his virginity that they hire a prostitute for his 21st birthday, despite Zouey making it very clear that he doesn’t want that. [Virginity is a harmful construct and I’m using the term here deliberately btw.]  Zouey's 21st birthday is where episode one of Playboyy begins, aptly titled “Sex is for Everyone”. 

So Jump, the guy who Zouey’s friends hired, shows up and tries to do his job but it doesn’t go well because Zouey is anxious and uncomfortable and Jump is pressed for time and inpatient. [Side note: I don’t know much about allosexuals but I’m pretty sure that many of them would not be excited about having sex with a stranger while handcuffed and with no time to prepare for it. But in Playboyy, all the other characters would totally be down for that, which makes Zouey the odd one out. This is also the first “fantasy crashing with reality” scene, which is a main theme of the show. I’ve pointed out two more examples of it here.] Zouey tries several times to gain some control over the situation and lead it in a direction that’s actually comfortable and pleasurable for him. They sort of get there, in the end. Jump agrees to pose for Zouey and then Zouey starts jerking off, but their time runs out before Zouey can finish. Jump leaves in frustration that he didn't make Zouey come (which normally means he won't get paid) and Zouey is left with the experience of his personal boundaries being crossed and his sexual fantasy being ridiculed.  

It has nothing to do with you. If I hadn’t escaped to jerk off, that policeman would have raped me. - Come on, you’re exaggerating. - I am not. I told you that I’m not into this.  

I know I’m not the only ace person who watched that first episode of Playyboyy and felt very seen. The way Zouey is treated by others throughout this episode - the othering and invalidation he encounters when he talks about his (dis)interest in (specific ways of having) sex as well as the pressure that’s placed on him to conform, is something many of us are painfully familiar with. 

You didn’t want to have sex with me but you wanted to draw. You’re sick. 

Jump shames him. Captain says he doesn’t get why Zouey “won’t have sex with anyone or jerk off to humans”. And Teena assumes it’s about Zouey feeling insecure so he offers words of encouragement.   

You know, the first time I had sex, I came before I put it in. Noone is good right off the bat. [..] You need to practice. [...] It’s okay. Take it slow. 

Many aces have heard similar things and gone through similar experiences especially as teenagers and young adults. It can seem like everybody around us is obsessed with sex. Not just their own sex life but also the sex life of everybody else. When we get asked who we find hot or when we will finally have sex, “nobody” and “maybe never” are not accepted as answers. Not having sex is weirder than gay sex or BDSM or smelling underwear because sex is for everybody, it is a universal need and a sign of maturity, or so we are told. That’s what compulsory sexuality is. It sucks and it especially sucks for us aces who will never “grow up” and meet the expectation of sexuality that people have of us. It’s perfectly fine to go through your life without ever having sex with anybody but it can be hard to believe that when we have internalized the idea that not having sex means there is something fundamentally wrong and broken about us. 

Do you know the concept of epistemological injustice? My mind was kinda blown when I first learned about it. Epistemological injustice describes the injustice of 1) not having access to knowledge about your own experiences, which includes the fact that certain experiences are not being researched and 2) the knowledge you have about yourself and the world not being  believed or trusted. Knowledge is power, after all, so controlling and limiting knowledge is a way to limit and control power. How can we as aces even begin to understand ourselves, how can we recognize and challenge compulsory sexuality, when we don’t learn about the existence of asexuality and don’t hear about the lived experience of other aces? 

Noone in Playboyy ever suggests to Zouey that he could be ace - most likely because noone  knows about asexuality - and when Zouey says that he doesn’t think sex is for him, he is not taken seriously. That is epistemological injustice. It would be very hard for Zouey to figure out if he is on the ace spectrum because he doesn’t have the knowledge, the vocabulary, to understand himself in these terms and he is (implicitly) told by others that he cannot trust his own thoughts and feelings around his sexuality. In Zouey’s case, a lot of his hang-ups around sex seem to stem from anxiety, self-consciousness and possibly a negative past experience, so the advice he receives from Teena is actually relevant. For an ace person who doesn’t want to have sex, though, the same advice would not be helpful at all and could even reinforce the self-shame and self-doubt many have dealt with at some point in their life.