#you might have to put up with a bad shift time or in my case a 6 day workweek for a bit before getting them to give u the schedule you want

[dichotomy-of-your-girlfriend]

I can't tell what here is snarky/sarcastic and what is an actual point so sorry if I accidentally misinterpret.

1. The person I was taking shots at for kinning him was a whole ass 25 y/o. I think we should be able to understand why that's wrong and off putting. A kid might not understand the weight and importance of not separating rape from his character, and say it because he's grumpy, and deadpan, and struggles with responsibility, poor self esteem, tends to pedestal, feels like they have to do everything (crazy he did 5 things over several months tho hmm.)

2. Jimmy is not a reminder of my own capability for evil. He's a reminder of the time I got SAd awesome!! People aren't scared he's a reflection of themselves. Actually, people just tend to hate rapists. Just because there isn't nuance doesn't mean there's not depth to his character. I have picked him apart and listened to other people pick him apart and there are things I also relate too In there! He is amazingly written, and the gameplay makes you uncover all of this over time and you start to shift your opinion and idea of what's happening and it's great and super cool and really well done which is why I hate him. Bc he sucks. And the did an awesome job writing a guy who sucks.

Complexity ≠ redeemability

3. "And this fear gives birth to the vehement denial of anything human in jimmy. Because If you gave him some thought, you may discover something deeply unpleasant about yourself."

Whar that we're all secret rapists?? Or something?? People don't hate him bc they look at him in a 2 dimensional way. The point is you can look at him as deep as you fucking want and he's still awful. He is human and complex and also he sucks really bad and I hate him. Again I could give you the list of things I relate to, and honestly he might be the character that resonated most with me. But my bar for likability is rape but you do you. I am so past the point in my life where I'm anything other than angry and unmoving about this as a victim. You can pull the fictional character card which has weight for sure. I think it's the REASON we get to pick him apart and talk about him as an individual because there's no real Anya. She'd take priority in that case and we wouldn't do anythjng but try to send jimmy to prison. But we don't have too because real people aren't in danger of fictional grease man jimmy. but real people feel this story really close to their heart and it's dangerous to get comfortable In the rhetoric that it's simple minded and unfair to hate him without fully examining him. Especially in fandom spaces that could influence how young people form their perception of sexual assault and criminals and if they're victims that could really fuck em up honestly. And it's not fair to police victims out of the fandom either because thjs is ultimately a story that we resonate with. And it's comforting. And it's an outlet to use jimmy as a punching bag too it's nice to see unapologetic bullying of this not real guy as somebody who never got justice.

I unapologetically hate him. And I do am off put when people like him. But not ljme we should never talk abt him or male funny videos with him or fanart where hes in it hate him like. Im not that dumb.

But it's weird to me that you had to make this entire thing about how you don't hate jimmy because you can read into all the details and fully understand his character and we're all just too simple and dumb do have done that bc WE fEAr oUr HUmaNjTy and the morally grey nature of life blah blah.

Maybe the rest of us also enjoy character analysis and looking into every nook and cranny of his being... and maybe for the rest of us the bar is rape. You're not intrinsically evil for liking him no. But I will probably go ew what and feel really nasty about it.

Appreciating his character ≠ liking him. I was talking aboht people who made jimmy their little blorbo or whatever. If tbst wasn't clear sorry bc that was the intent so I just basically read your thing as in defense of jimmy simps. Pls don't blorbo the rapist lol.

I've seen some "I low key like Jimmy like I hate what he did but I like his character" posts already and.

If that's you, this game is a commentary on people like you, and you don't even realise it. It's about how he and his actions can't be separated. If you really think he's well written or whatever the hell, appreciate the amazing job the devs did by hating him.

[gideonisms]

can I ask what your dumb menial job is and how can i get in on that shit please lord in heaven

Mail sorting second shift 👌 I found it through a temp agency in my area and it's the first job I've ever had that has not required me to speak to people all day, has paid me enough to live on, and has given me a regular schedule

[psychronia]

I've been rewatching Avatar: The Last Airbender because why not and I'm losing my mind at Zuko's proper introduction. I don't know if it's hindsight, shifting characterizations, or just me not watching this in a long time, but this was amazing.

We start off showing he's an impatient and very angry kid. Reasonable, and the sort of flaw we might expect to see in a villain. Kinda funny that he expects to go up against an adult and fully 4-Element realized Avatar, but the kid is desperate and Iroh clearly expects his nephew to get the banishment-denial kicked out of him.

What's important here, though, is Zuko's introduction to the Southern Water Tribe.

Here, we have a very intimidating entrance where his entire ship just sails through the ice right up to the village's front door. It's quite ominous and this is our first proper introduction to how the Fire Nation interacts with a foreign people.

Sokka charges, I'm assuming fully prepared to die, and Zuko casually knocks him out of the way. Okay, so clearly the Water Tribe are entirely outgunned.

He asks "Where are you hiding him?" and the people of the Water Tribe go silent. I assume they're either just too scared to talk or actually protecting Aang.

Whatever the case, it's important to note that the Southern Water Tribe know the terror the Fire Nation can inflict. We have a whole episode dedicated to tracking down a division of raiders. Sokka was able to not only identify the ash-mixed snow as signs of an incoming attack, but estimate how many ships the amount of ash measures to. These are a people who have experience being terrorized and are probably expecting something terrible to happen.

And then, after they don't answer, Zuko grabs Gran-Gran. There was a horror sting to it, and everything the tribe knows about the Fire Nation suggests that Zuko is about to threaten or straight up hurt her to get answers. Classic "terrorize the elderly" bad guy stuff.

And then...

He goes "He's (the Avatar) be about this age and is a master of all four elements!?" and lets her go.

And all of a sudden, the tension that was built up is shattered as Zuko went "I know, I'll give them a reference for the person I'm looking for because clearly they're confused and I wasn't specific enough."

This went from a show of villainy to a show of Zuko being totally socially awkward and misreading the situation entirely. Not helping is that when he does try to menace them a moment later, his fire is slow and angled quite safely.

It still worked on the Water Tribe because they're understandably scared, but all I could think of is that this was the equivalent of a playground bully trying to make someone flinch with that fake-out lunge thing.

Because the fact-and something we'll come to learn-is that Zuko is TERRIBLE at being a Fire Nation oppressor. He's capable of doing morally dubious things and is a competent fighter. But he's lousy at terrorizing people and cruelty-that's kind of the point of his banishment.

And while we can see the story paint this picture of Zuko's true character as the story goes on with hints of good and conflicting loyalties, here we get to see just how bad he is at being "the bad guys". He's still unambiguously being the villain of this scene, and it makes no real difference to the oppressed themselves, but there is a comical gap between where Zuko thinks he is, where he actually is, and somehow it still puts him on the same page as his victims just because of how terrible the Fire Nation's influence is on everyone involved.

[luveline]

𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐝 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

when an unknown intruder breaks into your apartment, you call hotch. he races to make it to you in time. requested here. fem!reader, 3.7k

cw home invasion, assault, attempted sexual assault, reader is badly hurt/held at gunpoint, please read with care for the content warnings above

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Hotch?" you whisper into the phone, your voice barely audible. 

"Who is this?" 

Hotch doesn't always look at who's calling at night, he just answers. Bad habit. You curl in on yourself where you're on your knees in the closet, trying not to wheeze breathlessly down the receiver. "Hotch, it's me. I need you to come and help me." 

"What's wrong?" He doesn't ask why you're whispering. "Are you at home?" 

"There's someone in my apartment." 

"You're sure?" 

You shift backwards into the embrace of your hanging coats and dresses. It feels as though tens of hands are petting your shoulders, a shiver racing along your spine as a floorboard creaks somewhere in your kitchen. 

"I heard them open my door. I don't have my taser, I…" You stop talking when you hear more movement, terrified you'll be discovered. Regret clings to you. How many times has Morgan offered to teach you self defence personally? "I don't know how they got inside."

It doesn't take more than that for Hotch to click into work mode. "Stay on the phone with me. Don't talk. I'm going to put you on hold to call Morgan. I will be ten seconds at most. Don't panic. Don't hang up. If you think you can leave without being seen or heard, leave, but if you can't, don't show him where you are." 

The invader's footsteps track to the bedroom. You know at once that your tired mind isn't hallucinating a bad scenario to keep you up —this is real. 

You had the hindsight to close your laptop and push it under the bed along with your go-bag, a rucksack full of clothes that you take on cases in different states as part of the BAU. You'd made a quick assessment —your job more than prepared you for this— based on the little information you had. Either the invader knows nothing about you and has assumed you'd be home, or they watch you enough to think you'd be elsewhere. If they think you're here, you're in danger of being assaulted, kidnapped, or murdered. If they think you're away, you're in danger of being robbed. One scenario is a thousand times more preferable than the other. 

You can't help but think of the horrible things you've seen. You know intimately what kind of damage one person can do to someone at their mercy. 

The hold sound is a quiet droning that freaks you out. If you can hear it, the intruder might be able to, too. Like the low hum of the fridge at night or the bumping of the dyer. 

You hang up the phone. 

"I know you're here." 

Your pulse flies through the roof. It pounds so hard you can feel it everywhere, the tip of your nose, your eyelashes. You look through the dark of your closet and panic in the fullest definition of the word. Your heart can't sustain this for long. 

You failed to think of a third possibility. The intruder watches you enough to know you're home. The BAU has a lot of enemies. Anyone could be waiting for you on the other side of the door.

"Come out and I'll be kind," the intruder sing-songs.

You type out a text with shaking hands, your message nearly illegible. 

They knowa 8m hjome. Cant talkk dontcall me

Thirty seconds elapse. A reply comes through. You smother the chirp with your chest. It sounds loud as a shot in the relative quiet. 

Police dispatch 5mins. I'm 10mins. Morgan 12. I will be there as soon as I can. Protect yourself 

That's easy for him to say. You drop your phone in defeat but scramble to pick it up again when you realise it's your best weapon. Or… You crawl to the opposite end of the closet to your shoe rack and slide the shoes apart with honey slow movements, your breath coming in quick, too-loud pants. You never expected to feel this way, you thought you'd know exactly what to do, how to react, but this feels outside of reality. 

You brace the long heel of a shoe between your fingers. Your hand is a vice. 

In your bedroom, the intruder goads you. "I know you're home, Y/N. There's only so many places for me to look, you know? But if you make me check each one, I'll be unhappy when I find you." 

What the fuck? you think. Breaking apart the fear like a knife is anger, a new shot of adrenaline. Who is this guy? You want to spring from the closet and show him how unhappy you are, but your chances of survival improve the longer you can hide. If he has a gun, that's it. You could be dead in the next two minutes. No amount of anger would save you. 

You could be dead in the next two minutes. 

thank you dpr everything, for being my friend aaron, you text. You know how embarrassing it will be to have said goodbye if nothing bad happens to you, but you also know how haunted Hotch will be if he can't get to you in time. You aren't foolish enough to unravel your feelings for him over text, but you're sentimental enough to think they'd matter to him. He'd want to know. 

If things go bad please knoeew that I loved my life and my work and you and the tram more than anything

After a moment, you add, If things don't go bad please nevrr mentiom this 

Footsteps at the closet door. A pause that feels gargantuan, the silence so heavy it threatens to snap the floorboards beneath your knees. 

"Found you." 

You leap up and throw yourself at the closet door as hard as you can, gasping when it swings on the hinges and clips your opposition in the leg. You don't think, you don't look at his face, you simply drive the point of your shoe into his collar. 

He gasps. Something hard and rigid whips upward, your neck snapping to one side as the skin of your cheek splits, gunmetal glancing off of bone. You drop down onto your ass, half out of necessity and half to get away from the pain. You can't outrun it, nor can you escape the forthcoming assault, grunting in shock as the bottom of the gun comes down atop your head. It was likely meant to incapacitate you, but all it does is hurt. 

You flip onto your front, stagger onto your hands and knees, and launch yourself up through the bedroom doorway. You only have to get away. 

He sweeps your legs from under you barely ten feet down the hall. 

You fall. Your knees hit the hallway slats and your face follows, the nerve endings in your teeth ringing one by one and your eyes tearing up as your nose makes a huge thwacking sound. Gasping, you rush to cover your face though the damage is done. Your gasp turns to a sob, hands quickly wetted by blood. 

"Stupid bitch," he hisses. 

You crawl into the kitchen. He steps on the back of your thigh. 

"I have a G43 pointed straight at the back of your fucking head."

"Good for you?" you say, eyes squeezed closed. 

You whimper as he grinds his foot into your leg. 

"Don't think I won't use it when I'm done with you." 

You shake your head from side to side. That can't be what he's here for.

You should ask him what he wants, or threaten him with the approaching police sirens. You should've tried to climb out of your fire escape. You should've set the door alarm as soon as you came home, but you're just so fucking tired lately you must've forgot. Everything feels like a chore. Right now, you're exhausted. 

"What are you going to do?" he asks you. 

You won't negotiate. You don't answer.

Forceful, no time to protect yourself, he kicks you in the side of the face. It hurts worse than the fall, that shattering pain like a firework under your skin. You struggle to keep your mouth shut, hoping that your whining cry is less audible to him than it is to you, scrambling backward toward the cabinets. You're defeated. Maybe you deserve it, for it to happen so easily. Three minutes and you're down. 

"I asked you what are you going to do, Agent?" 

"What am I supposed to say?" you ask. Even to your own ears, you sound pathetic. 

"Whatever I want you to. Now get up, honey." You cringe. "Unless you want to stay on the floor like a dog?" 

"Don't call me that," you say, wincing at the grinding sensation of your jaw. 

"What, a dog? Or… honey?" His tone is smug. "I thought you'd like that. It's what your boss calls you, isn't it? Late at night when he drops you off. Not strictly professional." 

You groan and turn onto your side. The police sirens are getting close. You live in a busy place near a main road, the sirens could be for anybody, but you need them to be for you.

"Get up, honey. You can pretend I'm him, if you like. I'll make it easy on you. I can be nice." 

You deliberate. Do as he says, or risk further agitation. Do what he says. Live to see the end of the night. 

Or drag it out. Give Hotch enough time to get here. 

"You'll pretend to be him?" you ask, sniffing. You can't tell if you're crying or there's blood on your face. 

"Aw. To begin with, sure." 

You sit up. For the first time, you look your attacker in the face. It's difficult to tear your eyes from the barrel, but you do. He has a cruel face, as tall and formidable as Hotch is but with none of his lightness. You put on your softest expression, gazing at him through tears. When you speak, the fear is real, even if you're attempting a facade. "You'll be gentle?" 

"No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?" His lip curls in disgust.

"I don't know," you mumble, looking down at the floor. "You said you'd be nice." 

"We both know you don't like nice." 

"I do," you say, finding your footing in the charade, the sorry victim, whatever he needs you to be for now. You hate giving him anything, but you know in the moment that you'll do what you need to do to save yourself from injury. "I haven't… I haven't done stuff in a long time, I can't just rush into things." 

The gun makes a quiet clicking sound as he points it with more fervour. "Like I believe that. You're probably fucking Hotchner on the side." 

There, that jealousy. He's been watching you, he knows where you live, what you want, and he's still convinced that you're fucking Hotch. It's not logical.

You cling to the threads, trying to pull apart his composure. You'd assumed him an anger-excitation rapist, unafraid to hurt you as he already has, but now you're thinking something else. 

"You think I'm sleeping with my boss? Why?" 

"Besides your constant need to be touching him? It's disgusting, you throw yourself at someone who doesn't want you. You're pathetic. I can make you better." 

You see movement in the corner of your vision. Dark hair, a stony expression. Hotch stands at the precipice of the kitchen in a bulletproof vest, a finger to his lips. Sh. 

Your relief knocks a breath out of you. The invader takes it for pain at being read. 

"Look," he says, softer. Not genuine softness, but practised. As soon as you give in, he'll drop it. You're both acting for one another, but only one of you is a profiler. "You'll forget all about Agent Hotchner once we're done. So just get up." 

You hold out your hand. His eyes light up with malice as he leans down to take it, his gun finally aimed away from your face. 

Hotch moves in. 

"Drop the weapon." 

Your attacker whirls. Hotch doesn't hesitate. Front sight, controlled trigger press, follow through. A bang like a clap of thunder fills the room. 

You flinch down into yourself. Everything goes a little white for a while, people running into the room, a gun skittling across your kitchen tile. Your ears ring from the bang of two bullets and you're sure you've been hit, you're hurting so much, but hands squeeze under your arms to tell you otherwise. 

"You're okay," Hotch says, knee against your thigh, face ducked down to meet your eyes. "Hey, can you hear me?" 

You shake your head. You can hear him, but you're far from okay. Hotch bites commands over his shoulder, holding your waist in his hands like he's worried you'll slip out of them. Tight. Too tight. You suck in as big a breath as you can manage and choke on it, coughing, the wild sting of your wounds a ringer. 

"You did so well," he says as he catalogues your injuries, his frown deepening. He tilts your head up to the light. 

"I knew you were on your way," you deflect.

"You were talking him down." 

"No, I was surrendering." 

"You didn't give in until you saw me. You weren't surrendering." 

"But I would have," you whisper, closing your eyes.

"Doing what you need to to survive isn't easy. But you do it." 

You hang your head. 

— 

Hotch winces at the sound of your skin being sewn closed. Morgan sits beside you in the back of the ambulance holding your hand, your fingers twitching between his with every tug. They dosed you and applied a general anaesthesia, but the pain is pervasive. His eyes keep moving back to your hand in Morgan's. He isn't jealous —he's annoyed with himself. Hotch should be the one holding your hand.

He should've hugged you. The absence of it feels awkward between you, though he's positive that that's the last thing you're thinking of right now.

"Will you have to set her nose?" Morgan asks. 

The paramedic shakes his head. "Not broken. Just very badly bruised. Even the bone." 

"That doesn't need a cast?" 

Hotch should hold your hand, should hug you, should be organising the scene. Should, should, should. The only thing he's managed to do since he incapacitated your stranger is watch you for signs of life. 

You're despondent. In shock, no doubt. You let your friends pass you from place to place with little more than pained sighs for input.

JJ does an excellent job of surveying the goings on, while Rossi and Reid take care of some of the bigger questions: who is this guy, what did he want, and how did it come to happen? 

What did he want? Hotch can guess. Rage collects like the heart of a furnace, a molten cup of steel in his throat as what he heard you say plays over and over in his head. 

You'll be gentle? 

No. You think he'd be gentle? Agent Hotchner?

He'll never forget the way you sounded asking that question. Terrified, begging for a scrap of mercy. 

Emily approaches from behind. "We have a name." Hotch tips his head to show he's listening. "Paulo Danvers. He was part of a crew that installed her security parameters a few months ago. He was vetted. This shouldn't have happened." 

"No, it shouldn't have." Hotch lowers his tone, "She said she wasn't sure she set the lock." 

"It wouldn't have mattered. He disengaged it from the outside." Emily takes a few steps closer to the ambulance. "Hey. Morgan taking care of you?" 

"Don't I always?" Morgan asks, clapping your arm gently. 

You don't answer. 

"What, you're not talking to me?" Emily asks. She's not mad, the opposite. Concern lines her eyes, thin brows pinching together at the starts, though she does her best to smile through it. 

"I don't feel well," you say quietly. 

"Yeah? You're not squeamish, are you?" 

"Don't think so." 

"It's shock," says the paramedic. 

"What's your pain like?" Hotch asks. He's the only person you'll give a straight answer to. "Bad?" 

"Yeah." Your hand is lax in Morgan's. 

"I can give you slow release tramadol to last the night or codeine pretty much immediately. It's up to you. And I'm really not comfortable with releasing you without next of kin. Do you have family in the area?" 

You shake your head. "It's just Hotch. Agent Hotchner," you correct yourself, nodding at him.

"You're her partner?" the paramedic asks. He can sense the disapproval. 

"Her boss." 

"Not her partner?" 

"He's my closest friend," you say. 

He's never heard you say that before, but it's true. 

"I wish you were my boss," the paramedic jokes, turning back to her supplies as she peels off her gloves. "Maybe I'd get better sick pay." 

You're given slow release tramadol and officially pronounced to be on the mend. If he didn't have an FBI badge, you'd be spending the night on a ward. He'd prefer if you did, but you clearly don't want to be somewhere alone right now, and he just wants to give you what you want after having your choices held over your head.  

He's not offended when Emily asks if you'd prefer to stay with her. It's harrowing what might have happened to you had you not heard the initial break in, and the perpetrator would've been a man like Hotch. Tall, white, dark-haired. He wouldn't blame you for needing space from him to feel safe tonight, but he's relieved when you turn her down. 

"You don't have to act like something happened to me," you say.

Hotch clicks down the locks of his car and turns on the overhead light. You squirm in the passenger seat, looking wrecked. Your chin is split, your nose a dark purple mess cut by white splint. You have a cut on your cheek and another just above your eye. 

"You don't think something happened?" he asks, hands on his legs. He can tell you wish he would start the car and take you home without pressing. 

"No, I know, I look awful, but he didn't do anything to me." Why is it so hard to say what it could have been? "You don't have to act like I'm gonna wig if you touch me." 

"You won't mind if I hug you?" he asks. 

"No. No, I want you to." 

It's thankfully a short gap to cover as Hotch leans over the console. He's careful of your face and still you mumble a tired, "Ouch," in his ear.

He rubs your back, slow and soft. "You okay?" he asks. 

You don't answer for a while. It doesn't matter, Hotch'll sit here in his parked car for hours if you want him to, hands on your hunched back. Your face hides away. He can feel and hear your distress building, and he wants you to cry if you need to, but it'll hurt.

"Sh," he hushes you gently, "it's okay." 

"I'm fine." You sound welled up. 

"Someone broke into your home and held you at gunpoint. You don't have to be fine." 

"Yeah, I do. It's my job." 

"No, that's not your job," he says, closing his eyes. "This has nothing to do with your job. This is about something bad happening to you. Don't put walls up now. It won't work, it never does." 

He tries to back away in case you're overwhelmed.

"Wait," you say, your panic like a cough. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he says. 

You sniffle, nodding into his chest. Hotch has comforted a hundred victims of violent assault. He's held the faces of women he didn't know hoping to give them something solid to lean on. But it's different with you, because you and Hotch aren't simply friends. There's a deeper vein of affection, and tonight's event is a jagged slash against it, bringing every unbidden feeling he has for you to the surface. He can't get how scared you sounded out of his head. He knows that feeling is still there. 

"How did you get here so fast?" you asked. 

"I took the side road. And went unavoidably fast." 

You make a small, small sound. He's known you for long enough to understand what it demarcates, unsurprised when the trembling of your shoulders turns to pained shaking. Hotch holds you delicately. He's done so much in his life, made a thousand and one mistakes, used a heavy hand when he could've been sweeter. He's determined to get this part right. 

"I'm with you now," he says. "I'm sorry I couldn't–" This is harder than he imagined. He presses on. "Couldn't protect you from the start." 

"You know why I called you?" you ask, your tone similarly soft. 

Hotch doesn't bother answering. The answer is unsaid, loudly heard. 

"I knew you'd come," you finish.

He puts a hand on your neck to encourage you into place, kissing the side of your head. Hotch will always come when you call. 

That night, you ask to sleep in his room. I'll sleep on the floor, just don't want to be alone. You're in ragtag clothes he'd scraped together for you, and after helping you wash the blood from your hair and face, you're even more impossible to say no to than usual, looking small in a way you haven't before. Hotch sets you up in bed next to him and wonders if he'll ever sleep next to someone he hasn't let down. 

You put that notion straight in your sleep. Hotch lays awake sick with the idea that he's failed you, and you, frowning, snoring, covered in cuts, curl into his side. You cling to his arm so hard he's certain you're awake at first, a bouquet of bruises painted across your cheek. 

Hotch pulls the blanket up over your shoulder, planting a chaste kiss to your forehead. 

He whispers your name, not sure what he'd say if you answered. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed♡ I haven't written long form (ish) for Hotch in a while so I'm nervous but I hope it's good!! let me know also if you'd like a second part cos usually I don't feel like there's much left to tell but for this one the could actually confess :o

[andhumanslovedstories]

Last two shifts I worked, I had the same patients but was precepting (training) different nurses. So two nights in a row, I have a patient with a post-op complication (guts not moving) that the surgeons are taking a conservative approach to (wait and see if the gut starts moving). This treatment plan makes sense for the specifics of this patient, but that means we’re doing a lot of symptom management without directly treating the thing that’s causing the symptoms. In this case, symptoms are pain and nausea so bad that the patient said if they’d known this is how they’d feel after, they’d have skipped the surgery and just rolled the dice with what that colon polyp would do if left alone.

So we’re throwing meds at this patient, we’re walking them so their bowels can get moving, we’re giving ice chips and gum and cold wash clothes, we’re giving IV fluids (which is SUPER rare in the hospital right now because due to one of the recent hurricanes, we are critically low on IV fluids), we’re doing basically all my tricks short of putting another tube in this guy. And it’s working okay. Like we’re keeping pain and nausea just below “intolerable” but not by much.

That first night I have that patient, while I’m talking to the surgeon on the phone, my preceptee is in the room talking to the patient. I don’t get any new orders because most usual meds that would help are contraindicated in this particular circumstance. I’m feeling frustrated about that—I HATE when I can’t get symptoms significantly under control—when my preceptee comes up excitedly and says that the patient says they’re feeling much better after the therapeutic intervention my preceptor did. The intervention was hanging out in the room for 15 mins and talking with the patient about their hometown in Canada.

(Which, hell yeah. Very proud of that new nurse because she said one of the biggest things she wanted to work on was being less nervous talking to patients.)

Next night, I got the same patient, still miserable, and a new preceptee. We’ve got more meds this time, but still only marginal success with managing symptoms. I tell my preceptee, “next time you’re in the room, plan on staying and chatting with the patient for like ten minutes.” Next time we’re in the room, we do just that—we talk sports, hobbies, plans, past surgeries, how much this surgery sucks, just the three of us shooting the shit for a while before we have to go give pain meds to another patient. (It was a surgical floor. That night was mostly handing out ice packs and oxy.)

Anyway, the patient tells us that this chat has been the best they’ve felt all night. My preceptee comes out of the room, and my preceptee is like “wow that really was our best intervention.” And I get to be like “yes witness the power of chit chat as nursing intervention.”

Reflecting back, I’m grateful that the patient was so expressive about what we did that was working. I told the patient at one point, in the midst of their most acute misery, that we were going to give them everything we had available, and if that didn’t work, I had backup plans in mind. Like you might spend the night miserable, but it’s not because we didn’t keep trying stuff. And after I say that, the patient goes, “that was good, I like that you said that, that comforted me.” Which was very nice and convenient because before we’d gone into the room, I’d talked to my preceptee about how to make patients feel supported and cared for, even when none of the care we do is working. When we left after that, my preceptee was like “wow, you’re right, that really worked,” and I was like, “I KNOW, that’s cool right? I mean you always hope it works, but sometimes you just can’t tell if it actually does.”

I love really open patients, they are such fantastic teaching opportunities. For example, I had another patient both night who was also very open, specifically about what a bad job the hospital was doing and how everyone should just stay the hell out of their room. Considerably less pleasant feedback, equally valuable, about essentially the exact same situation that the first patient was in. Talking through that patient with my preceptees was also very useful and very easy, because the patient had been so explicit in their feedback.

It’s always odd training nurses because you don’t want bad things to happen to your patients, but you also need to new nurses to see bad things. And sometimes you get a patient assignment that is so good for teaching, it’s like it came from a textbook. Very convenient for me personally as a preceptor. Feels weird to say that about patients who are having absolutely miserable times, that their misery is useful to me, but (as preceptors normally say about stuff like this) if it’s happening, at least it’s happening where we can learn about it. Anyway, great couple of shifts to practice therapeutic communication.

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

Walk The Line.

Carmen gets a little jealous. You don’t mind in the slightest.

roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing. semi public antics.

word count - 2.5k

authors note - ask and you shall receive 😌. i’ll never get enough of roommate!carmy. i’ll be writing him forever. <3

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my writing, which generates more of it. feel free to send me a comment or an inbox, too!! thanks, my loves!! <3

series masterlist. masterlist. inbox.

He’s a little out of his depth, admittedly.

The invitation had been slid under your front door, pretty handwriting on creamy paper.

“A… party?”

“Does it say party, Carmen?”

“No, it says ‘mixer.’ What the fuck is a mixer?”

You laugh, scrubbing a mark off the final dish in the sink before placing it down in the drying rack. Carmy is sat on the counter across the kitchen, reading the invite over and over.

“Seriously, babe. The fuck does mixer mean? So it isn’t a party?”

You dry your hands and make your way over to take the paper from him, eyes scanning over it carefully.

“A mixer is like… a get to know each other thing. It’s sort of like a party, I guess, but not really. Just a casual gathering type situation.”

“Sounds fucking stupid,” he grumbles.

You smack his shoulder, rolling your eyes.

“Lighten up, asshole. It could be fun.”

“Fun? You think having a mixer with all the neighbours from our building on a Friday night is gonna be fun?”

“I think it sounds like an incredible time. My ideal evening. I can’t wait.”

You can’t even pretend not to laugh, grabbing onto his thigh to keep yourself balanced. He puts his hands on your shoulders, trying to look serious, but the grin fighting its way up his cheeks gives him away.

“You really wanna go?”

“Carm, if it’s terrible, we’ll just lie and say we’ve got plans elsewhere. We’ll run away screaming if we need to. It might be good for us though, to meet our neighbours properly. It’s good to get to know them, just in case we ever need anything.”

“What, like a cup of sugar? What is this, the thirties?”

“When you’re testing recipes and fucking them all up, you might be grateful to be able to nip next door and borrow a cup of sugar.”

“I don’t fuck recipes up.”

“No? Then why were you yelling at a lavender and oat crème brûlée last week?”

“It was mocking me,” he grumbles under his breath, hanging his head.

You can’t help but laugh, moving closer to stand between his manspread legs where he still sits on the counter. You brush a piece of hair back from his forehead, tracing your index finger in a featherlight touch down the bridge of his nose. He looks down at you, eyes glued to yours.

“I know for a fact you don’t have anything else planned on Friday,” you whisper.

He rolls his eyes but leans into your touch anyway, where you’re still tracing along the features of his face.

“You promise we can leave if it’s terrible?”

“We literally live in this building. We can just walk up the stairs and be home.”

He huffs, but relents.

“Fine. But please don’t leave me alone with all of the middle aged moms. They love me.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” you giggle, leaning in to rest your head on his chest. His arms encircle you, pulling you as close as he can.

Is this scene too intimate for roommates? Without a doubt.

Do either of you care? Not in the slightest.

✵  ✵    ·　 ✵ 　　 *  · ✵

It’s not as bad as he thought it’d be.

The middle aged moms have pulled through, actually. The lobby is decorated with fairy lights, tables covered in alcohol set up against the walls. Everyone has a drink in their hand, chatting and mingling amongst themselves.

You and Carmen walk downstairs a little late. He’d finished his shift and run home to shower and make himself look semi presentable before facing the neighbours.

“We need a signal,” he says suddenly, right as you reach the staircase. “In case of emergencies.”

“Pat your head.”

“Real subtle.”

“It doesn’t need to be subtle, it needs to be noticeable for me.”

“Fine,” he mutters, bumping his shoulder into yours. “Don’t leave me alone with that Erica lady. She scares me.”

“Yes sir,” you mock salute, slipping your hand into his momentarily. “You’ll be fine, Carmen. Like I said, we’ll just leave if it’s awful.”

It’s not awful, actually. It’s quite fun.

It’s nice to get to know the people in your building, seeing as you have lived there for a couple of years now. Carmen has been there even longer.

“Excuse me, sweetheart?”

You turn around to be met with an old lady, leaning carefully on her cane.

“Yes, ma’am?”

“I’m Dorothy. I live in 2B, and I just had to tell you that you look beautiful in your dress.”

You smile, pulling out a chair for her, which she takes gladly. You sit down next to her, spotting Carmy chatting with a couple of guys across the room.

“Thank you so much!”

You introduce yourself, telling her your name and apartment number.

“Ah yes,” she hums in recognition. “You live with your boyfriend who has all the tattoos.”

You almost choke on your drink.

“We’re just roommates,” you say eventually. “But yes, that’s him.”

“Oh, my apologies. I just assumed.”

You’re curious, suddenly. You know you shouldn’t be, but you can’t help yourself.

“Can I ask? Why you… thought we were dating?”

She chuckles knowingly before placing a hand on your knee.

“Honey, he’s got a hand on you at all times. He looks at you like you are the sun. Every time you walk past my window, you’re both laughing. Sounds like love to me.”

Her bluntness is refreshing, if not a little intimidating. No one will say it how it is more than a little old lady who can’t mind her business.

“We, uh… we’re close. He’s a good roommate. A good friend.”

She doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, chuckling as she pats your leg.

“Uh huh. That’s what I said about my husband - real good friend. We’ve been married 58 years.”

You smile, shaking your head.

“Is he here with you?”

“He’s upstairs. He can’t really leave the apartment, these days.”

“You know, if you ever need anything, me and Carmen would be happy to help.”

“No, sweetheart, I couldn’t ask you to-”

“-you’re not asking me, I’m offering. Carmen is an award winning chef at one of the best restaurants in this city. He’d be more than happy to make a meal or two when needed. And I can pick you guys up stuff from the grocery store when I go, too.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, grabbing your hand in her frail one. “You’re good kids, you two.”

You grin at her, squeezing her hand gently.

“You know where I am, if you need me.”

She nods, standing up carefully.

“I’m going to go see if that handsome Jeremy will come and fix my shower for me. He did promise.”

You laugh, watching as she makes a beeline for one of the dads stood in a huddle. You catch eyes with Carmy, who’s still chatting away with a few of the younger guys. He winks at you, all cheeky and carefree, and you can’t help but flush, heat prickling across your skin. You shake your head, smiling, winking back.

Suddenly, there’s a hand on your bicep. You spin sideways, to be met with the sight of a very handsome man. Dark hair, big brown eyes, tall - he looks slightly like a movie star you can’t quite remember the name of. You crane your neck to meet his gaze, smiling softly.

He holds out his hand to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m Daniel.”

You tell him your name, trying to ignore how his hand engulfs yours.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

You laugh, shaking your head.

“Have you lived here long? Think I’d remember a face like yours.”

Now he shakes his head.

“A month, maybe. I live in 6C. I’ve been working a lot, so haven’t had any time for introductions.”

“Ah. What do you do?”

“I’m a model.”

Of course he is.

“What do you do?”

As you start to tell him, his eyes fix on yours, not leaving for a moment. He listens carefully, both of you blocking out the noise and focusing on each other.

Turns out, Daniel is good company. The two of you find a spot in the corner, away from the noise and the wine drunk moms. The two of you laugh, joke, and talk about Chicago as if you’re old friends. Time slips away from you easily, conversation flowing with minimal effort.

“I don’t want to leave, trust me… but I have a super early call time tomorrow. If you wanted, we could grab a drink sometime, somewhere that’s not our buildings lobby?”

You laugh, nodding.

“Yeah, I’d like that. It was nice to meet you, Daniel.”

“You too. Here,” he says, handing you a small business card with his number on, “text me.”

“I might do just that,” you tease as he walks away grinning.

You’re on your way to grab another drink when a hand slinks around your wrist.

“Hi, Carmen.”

You don’t even have to turn to know who it is, recognising the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft skin.

“Where’s your friend gone?” he all but grumbles.

“He’s gone home, got to be up early for work.”

“Haven’t we all.”

“Ooo, okay Mr Attitude. You’re not having a good night? You didn’t give me the signal.”

“Would you have noticed if I did?”

You spin around to face him properly now.

“Yes, I would have. Because we’re in a tiny fucking lobby and not a football stadium, Carmen.”

He huffs.

“Didn’t think you’d notice if the building fell down, the way you were lost in his eyes.”

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Carmen, but eye contact is actually a very important part of conversation. Try it some time.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, grip on your wrist tightening.

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Wanna show you something.”

He practically drags you up the stairs, and up some more, and up some more. Eventually, you reach the roof.

The sun is just setting, casting the city in a warm orange glow. Everything is so calm, so peaceful, so serene. It’s beautiful.

You’re admiring the view when suddenly your feet are no longer on the ground. Carmy has you over his shoulder, carrying you across the rooftop to the brick wall.

“The fuck are you doing?” you cry as he finally puts you down.

He smashes his lips to yours, choosing to shut you up rather than answer you. You kiss back eagerly, confused but not disappointed at the turn in events. Slipping your hands into his hair, you tug him into you, groaning as he grabs at your ass.

“Carmen,” you breathe, “why don’t we just go home?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he mumbles against your neck, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. When he bites down, you smack his shoulder.

“No marks, asshole. The fuck is up with you?”

Again, he says nothing, just slips his hand under your dress to run his fingers over your underwear. You part your legs instantly, leaning back into the wall to steady yourself.

“Carmen, someone’s gonna see if they come up here.”

“Well then you better come quickly.”

He slips your panties to the side, running his fingers through your wet heat. You keen, knees buckling already.

“Oh baby,” he chuckles. “This all for Daniel?”

It all clicks for you suddenly.

“That’s what-” you choke as he slides a finger into you. “That’s what - fuck - has you so riled up? Daniel?”

“Don’t say his name when I’m knuckle deep, baby. It’s rude.”

You attempt to scoff, but it comes out as more of a moan when he presses his thumb to your clit, circling carefully.

“Am I not giving you what you need, honey? Is that it? Greedy girl just wants more, so she looks elsewhere to get it?”

“No,” you justify quickly. “You know that’s not true.”

“If you can still form sentences, I’m clearly doing something wrong.”

He slips a second finger in, curling them exactly the way he knows you like.

“Carm.”

“He couldn’t make you feel like this, babe. You and I both know it.”

You’re nodding, fingers gripping his shirt tightly as if you’re scared he’s going to walk away. His lips press into your neck again, nipping along the expanse of skin.

“Say it.”

“Hmm?”

You’re dazed, mind hazy with Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen Carmen.

“Say. It.”

He punctuates his words by curling his fingers harshly. You’re seeing stars, legs giving out.

“He - he… fuck, Carmen, please.”

“So close, honey. Try again.”

You know he won’t relent. He never does, when he’s in a mood. You have to just give him what he wants.

“He couldn’t make me feel this good, Carm. It’s all for you, only you.”

“Good girl. Knew you could do it.”

With that, he speeds up his fingers, his other arm snaking around your back to keep you standing upright.

“Give it to me, baby. Know you want to. That’s it, atta girl.”

“Come for me, there we go. Can feel you.”

“Good girl, good fuckin’ girl. So pretty like this.”

You fall over the edge, clenching like a vice around his fingers as you throw your head back. There’s a sheen of sweat coating your skin, chest heaving with every breath you take. Your vision goes white for a second, gripping onto Carmy’s biceps for dear life.

You rest your forehead against his chest, panting as you try to recover.

“Jealous Carmen is kinda mean,” you mumble into his shirt.

He laughs, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know I didn’t mean it, right? You’re free to date whoever you want. You could do a lot worse than Daniel the hot supermodel.”

You pull back, looking at him carefully.

“I know. I just… I don’t know if I’ll go. Seems a bit unfair to date him when my mind is on someone else.”

You both know exactly who you mean. You both also know that tipsy on a rooftop is not the place to have that conversation.

“Did you ever master the lavender crème brûlée?”

He chuckles, not expecting the sudden change in subject.

“Yes, I did.”

“Do we have any left?”

“We don’t. But I did make chocolate soufflé this afternoon, if that’ll satisfy your sweet tooth.”

“Fuck, yes,” you grin, leaning in to kiss him tenderly.

“I’ll make you a crème brûlée in work tomorrow. Promise.”

“Will you make two extras?”

He quirks a brow in confusion, so you continue.

“We’ve got two elderly neighbours. They’re not very mobile, so I said we’d drop stuff off every now and again.”

He smiles at you, all soft and melted.

“Of course. That heart of yours is too big for your chest, you know.”

You take hold of his hand, placing it there.

“Only sometimes.”

He kisses you again before throwing an arm over your shoulders.

“Let’s go eat chocolate soufflés and drink the rest of that wine you bought.”

“You’re a mind reader,” you laugh, making your way downstairs.

Maybe he is, you think later. You don’t mind in the slightest.

[scenekissed]

law of assumption for dummies!

(reminder you aren't a dummy! you are capable doing amazing things and a being an amazing person! 💝)

hello, i'm zoe and i'm gonna give you a run-down on LOA (the law of assumption!) i am also quite new to the concept but my silly little neurodivergent brain has picked it up quickly! i want this guide to be helpful to everyone who comes across it :D

what is law of assumption?

many people think that LOA is a magical thing that only certain people can do, while that's not the case! anyone can do it and everyone does it. you assume that you're going to fail a test? well it has already happened! whatever you assume is going to happen. it is a law it is a fact.

steps for law of assumption;

decide - what is it that you want? a new phone, money , a specific person to like you? think about what you want!

affirm - now state that you have your desire (by stating affirmations

persist - embody that feeling of knowing you have your desires, do NOT look for the 3d to conform! you do not have to feel on top of the world knowing of having your desires, you can feel like this is the worst day of your life and still have your desires! why? because YOU said so! not your mother, not your friends; YOU. you have the choice to change!

it is that simple it is all that! you are a limitless being who can have anything in this world!

extra things;

remind yourself not to over-consume if you are feeling stuck, looking for answers while having it is not going to solve the problem!

when dealing with intrusive thoughts remind yourself, you are not you're thoughts! remind yourself that! :3

the saying that helps me getting out of doubting, if they can have it, so can i! why am i complicating the law when i know it is a fact?

do not look for the 3d for proof, why are you looking there when you know you have it!? the 3d is a mirror of your thoughts, the things that you are thinking/assuming are reflecting this very moment! change your thoughts, beliefs

when dealing with a bad circumstances in life, do not let them get to you, "but zo, how can i deal with this if my family talks bad about me, being a broke person or something similar?" just tell yourself that things will get better, i've been there before, just tell yourself that things will get better. because it will.

what if the thing i'm trying to get is illogical!? i really want it but i can't get because i'm told i'm limited to what i can have! girl do you know how crazy you sound? "tHiNgS bEiNg LiMiTeD" the only thing that is limited is your beliefs. you can get a billion dollars out of thin air with no question asked. you can get anything your mind desires it is easy!

i manifest small things! it feels hard getting "bigger" desires what should i do? again, you are limiting yourself! you are working like a dog because you said so! change your mindset!

how to persist? live in the 4d, the imagination. affirm if you need to! live in the end :3

the 3d is always in my face how do i fix this? ignore, you might have an annoying sibling, always bothering you poking fun at you; if you kinda put the 3d as your sibling it will be easy to ignore!

blogs that help me! (like a ton)

@therealitysculptor - manifesting, shifting blog! answers really well (i asked them something and it really helped!)

@eamour - can i say less?! their stuff is amazing! (law of assumption related things!)

@youalreadyhavefullresults - make sure to read her stuff if you have the time!

@4dbarbie-backup - i know that ada's gone but those are archives and really helpful!

people who limit their beliefs, homophobic, anti-shifters, nsfw blogs do not interact.

[wileys-russo]

filling the void (3) II a.putellas x sister!reader

prequel one two

since you all wanted to be hurt so bad here is more angst! and for the sake of the broken and left behind younger sibling support club, a little comfort and some steps forward too - song i listened to when writing was we might be dead by tomorrow by Soko! filling the void (3) II a.putellas x sister!reader

after your outburst it worried eli to watch you retract into yourself, and for an entire week bar going to work you hardly left your room.

something out of character for someone like yourself who since your sisters decided they didn't want to spend time with you anymore, had thrown yourself head first into social activities with people who did.

you still saw your friends at work and when they drove you home or picked you up for a shift, but you had a variety of excuses to avoid the dinners or hang outs you were invited to outside of that, alarming not only eli but also your friends now.

your friends had all of course been filled in on the discourse of your apparent abandonment, having assured you time and time again that it wasn't your fault.

they spent time affirming to you that it was just an unfortunate side affect of the large age gap which wasn't something you had any control over. they all did their best to make you feel supported in your emotions whilst also encouraging you not give up on the relationship with your sisters entirely.

something that probably would have benefited both alexia and alba to know, at first feeling sorry for themselves after your outburst. this was then channeled into a disapproval for these new older friends you kept close.

guards went up from both of your sisters about how these strangers were trying to replace their space in your life, they were your older sisters not these new girls hanging around.

eli had all but banned alba and alexia from coming over throughout the week following your explosion at them, warning you needed space and time and that the more they pushed you the further away you'd pull, case in point your outburst in the first place which had spawned from both of them going at you too hard and too fast.

but when the weekend rolled around and still you made no move to leave the comfort of your bedroom or the family home eli decided maybe it was time she step in a little, unable to see any change in your antisocial behaviour unless she offered a somewhat forceful helping hand.

"hija." you looked up from a book your head was buried in with a raised eyebrow. "i am going to watch alexia's game soon." eli started as you noted she was dressed in a barcelona jersey with alexias name and number proudly on the back.

"okay." you nodded with a small frown of suspicion, unsure why she was really telling you this and sensing maybe there was more to it.

"you should come with me." the woman continued encouragingly with a warm smile. "are you asking me or telling me mami?" you questioned with a sigh making the older woman chuckle.

"telling. you have not left the house all week nena and i am worried about you." her voice softened the last few words as you sighed. "mami i'm fine! i am going to see my friends tomorrow night." you promised as she hummed.

"really? that is good then." eli smiled happily as you hummed. "sí, they said if i did not come willingly they would break in here and kidnap me, so i didn't really have a choice." you sighed making your mami chuckle.

"bien. now get dressed we leave in ten minutes!" eli clapped as you made a face. "wait i still have to come?" you asked with a small groan as she nodded. "sí, i was telling not asking." the woman smiled as you groaned again but snapped your book shut.

and sure enough ten minutes later you were following her out the door albeit begrudgingly, your airpods confiscated the moment you tried to put them in, deflating even further as you slid into the car.

"don't look so miserable fresa, watching one football match will not kill you." eli chuckled throwing the car into reverse as you sighed dramatically. "i could only dream of being so lucky." you mumbled sliding on a pair of sunglasses.

"why are we here?" you questioned a little anxiously as you recognized the street she turned down a little while later. "picking up your hermana, she is also coming." eli spoke with a slight air of caution, glancing to you as you frowned clearly a little lost in your thoughts.

"mi hija i know your sisters have really hurt you i am not dismissing that, and i will not push you any further then you are ready to when it comes to letting them fix it. but you are all still my daughters and i enjoy spending time with all of you, together." eli tried to put it as gently as she could as you sighed but nodded none the less.

when you didn't say anything further eli didn't prompt you to do so, waving at alba who locked up her place behind her and made her way to the car, surprise flickering clearly across her face seeing you sat in the front seat.

"hola mami." your sister slid into the back, leaning forward and kissing eli's cheek, contemplating for a brief second whether to greet you in the same way but thinking better of it and settling back in her seat.

"hi fr-hermana." alba was quick to catch herself, eli flashing her a small smile through the rear view mirror as you hummed and mumbled back a greeting, gaze trained out the window.

you zoned out of the conversation which followed the duration of the drive to the stadium, alba trying a couple of times to include you but when she only received one word replies she recognized that was likely doing more harm than good and ceased her efforts.

you stuck out a little once you all arrived, finding your seats in the friends and family section and you were one of the only spectators sat without a jersey on.

you of course had more than enough to choose from. as you grew up alexia had gifted you with countless jerseys both for spain and barcelona.

some she'd played in during important games and wanted you to have over anyone else, and some were just spares, getting most of your immediate family members the latest kits as soon as they dropped.

but when you'd stopped bothering to go to her games you had assumed this ceased. but unbeknownst to you alexia had a whole horde of jerseys at her home for you, but at her own fault barely having spent much time with you had disallowed her to be able to gift them to you.

so even though you could have easily worn a barcelona jersey, you were still upset with both of your sisters. so to wear alexia's name and number on your back felt a little too close to home for the time being which eli had respected enough not to bring up when she'd noticed.

you'd managed to busy yourself with your phone for a good half an hour, sat on one side of your mami as alba sat on the other, the two engaged in their own conversation that your anti social behaviour prompted you not be involved in.

but everything changed when eli stood to use the bathroom before kick off, alba then taking it upon herself to slide across one seat now sat right beside you causing a small sigh to drop from your lips.

"hermana." alba started gently and you recognised where she'd be angling this conversation from the soft tone of her voice.

"alba por favor i really do not want to talk about the other night, i do not even want to be here." you exhaled honestly, watching the warm ups on the pitch and avoiding her eyes.

"then why did you come?" your sister asked curiously, propping her arm over the back of her chair to rest her head on her fist. "mami made me." you grumbled in annoyance crossing your arms across your chest with a frown.

"so you don't have a curfew and go out at all hours of the night doing whatever you want with her permission but mami can still make you come to ale's games?" alba spoke as your head whipped around to snap at her though seeing the teasing smile on her face you realized she wasn't serious.

"sí." a small smile crept onto your lips which disappeared quickly. "saw that." alba commented quietly, turning her eyes back to the pitch as yours rolled.

thankfully before you were subjected to anymore small talk eli returned, but to your dismay alba didn't move seats and instead was now sat still beside you as eli sat on her other side.

when warm ups finished alexia's eyes drifted to the crowd, spotting olga sat with a few friends and waving before looking for her family. she spotted eli with a grin, waving again as alba did the same and for a moment alexia's eyes glanced over you without a second thought.

but then they snapped right back and widened in shock, not having seen you at a game for a long time now she hadn't even realised the figure sat beside alba was you.

"mami made her come!" alba mouthed giving the captain a subtle thumbs up as you missed the entire thing, attention focused on your phone.

catching eli's eye next alexia mouthed a thank you as the older woman smiled and gave a curt nod, alexia hurrying off to follow after the team to the change room.

upset with her or not and no matter how long it had been since you were at estadi johan cruyff there was no denying your sister was a force to be reckoned with on the football pitch, and she was enigmatic to watch play.

just before she was subbed off in the second half alexia lined up near the goal when caro stepped up to take the corner, delivering the ball in perfectly for your sisters head to knock it into the back of the net.

you looked around as the crowd errupted, chanting alexia's name as you of course clapped her goal though without quite as much enthusiasm as those around you.

you watched your sister turn toward where the three of you were sat and make a weird signal with her hands, blowing a kiss at your mami before racing back for kick off.

"you saw that, sí?" alba nudged you with a grin as you gave her an odd look. "qué?" you questioned a little confused as to what you were supposed to have been looking at.

"ale's celebration. E, A, F." alba recreated it with her own hands as the strange look didn't drop from your face and your older sister rolled her eyes.

"e-" she pointed at eli beside her. "-a-" she pointed at herself. "-f." she pointed to you as it clicked. "oh." you mumbled, dropping your sunglasses down over your eyes and remaining quiet for the duration of the match.

"can i go wait at the car?" you asked hopefully, glancing to eli as the stadium had now mostly cleared and the girls friends and families were making their way down to the pitch to greet the team on their six to nil win.

"no, stay where i can see you please hija there are a lot of people around still. i think you should come say hi to your hermana, but i will not push you." eli squeezed your shoulder with a gentle smile as you nodded, staying in your seat as she headed down to the barrier where alexia was already speaking with olga and alba.

you pulled your knees up to your chest and sighed, doom scrolling through your social media's to try and pass time as you attempted to ignore the internal battle your mind was having whether to go greet your sister or not.

"well well well, hola diablillo." you jumped a little in shock as a new body dropped down into the seat beside you, sunglasses snatched from your face and placed onto her own as you couldn't help but grin.

"you are so annoying maría give them back!" you laughed reaching for them as she clicked her tongue and pushed your hand away each time you reached to take them back.

"no i think i will keep them, they look better on me anyway no?" mapi teased before pulling you into a hug. "it has been some time since we've seen you here diablillo." mapi's voice was a little softer now and you weren't sure if alexia had filled her in at all on what had happened lately.

"sí, i have been busy." you shrugged dismissively making mapi chuckle. "ohh because you are so grown up now, just a little worker girl hm? too grown up to slum it with your sisters friends at a football match." mapi teased pinching and pulling at your cheeks playfully.

as you caught up with the older girl who seemed in no rush to go greet the rest of her teammates you were too occupied to feel alexia's eyes where she watched on from the barrier.

eyebrows furrowing and a strange feeling twisting in her stomach at the way you easily conversed with her best friend, rough housing around with her and laughing, just like how you used to with alexia.

"amor." olga's hand caught her wrist as she jumped the barrier to head up toward you, giving her girlfriend a slight look of warning as alexia tugged her hand away.

"i am just going to say hi." alexia promised as olga still looked unsure but nodded, turning around as someone called her name and alexia headed off up into the stands.

"you know diablillo you are nearly old enough for some of these of your own, maybe you come over and i will bust out my gun sí?" mapi grinned wolfishly, showing you a few of her new tattoos.

your eyes lit up in awe as they traced the deep inkings which wrapped around the older girls limbs, the exact same way they had as a child when you first laid eyes on her.

"i don't know how our mami would feel about that maría, stop being a bad influence." alexia's tone was teasing but she didn't miss the way your entire body seemed to tense at her arrival, mapi grinning up at her best friend none the less.

"me? capitana i would never." mapi gasped, standing to her feet and messing up your hair before handing you back your sunglasses. "you call me and we can talk more about it. adios diablillo!" mapi addressed you now with a wink, messing up your hair before making her way down to where ingrid was waiting, the tall norweigan sending you a kind smile and a wave which you returned.

"hola." alexia recaptured your attention now, your body stiffening as she sat down beside you, your sister frowning a little as you leaned your body away from hers just slightly.

"did you enjoy the match?" alexia asked, cautious of her every word as you nodded. "sí, it was a good win." you acknowledged, resting your chin on your knee as your fingers drummed anxiously against your thigh.

"i am glad you came, i have missed seeing your face in the stands." alexia's next words sent a strange feeling through you. "you didn't even notice i stopped coming." your words came out before you could stop them, alexia deflating a little as still you refused to look at her.

"fresa-lo siento hermana." alexia was quick to correct, trying her best to remember snippets of what you said the other night. "i know i did not and i really really want to-" she couldn't even finish her sentence before you shot to your feet.

"i need to go to the bathroom." you were gone before alexia could blink, scrambling away like a startled deer as your sister sighed and tiredly dragged her hands down her face.

there was a soft touch to her shoulder and she glanced up to see her girlfriend looking down at her sympathetically. "no luck?" olga winced slightly as she sat down and alexia shook her head.

"i barely said two words and she was gone. she looked terrified, and of me!" alexia struggled to get out with another deep sigh as olga rubbed her back.

"we talked about this ale, slow. fresa needs time and i know you want to fix it cariño but you have to let her come to you, she needs to want to fix things." olga reminded softly as alexia nodded, kissing the girls cheek appreciatively before the two of them stood and made their way back down to the pitch.

your airpods finally returned to you they were quickly stuffed in your ears as you allowed alba the front seat and slipped into the back, swaying your head a little to the music bouncing around your head as eli drove home.

you were snapped back to attention as someone tapped your knee, pausing your music and pulling one of them out, alba having turned around from the front to smile at you as you were now stopped outside her house.

"would you want to get breakfast tomorrow?" your older sister asked careful not to come on a little too strong but it was hard not to miss the hopeful look in her eye.

"i have plans already." you declined as your sister nodded in understanding. "maybe another time then." she squeezed your knee quickly and kissed your mami's cheek goodbye, thanking her for driving before she was gone.

"are you going to get in the front nena or make me drive you home like a taxi?" eli caught your eye with raised brows making you grin, unbuckling yourself and moving to the front seat, your door closing and belt re-buckling before she drove off.

"i thought your friends were kidnapping you tomorrow night?" eli hinted subtly as you looked out the window and hummed. "they are." you confirmed with a small nod.

"do you have other breakfast plans then?" "no." you sighed, sensing some sort of lecture might follow.

"i'm not ready yet mami." you added on honestly, still trying to come to terms with it all and what you thought was best for you going forward now you had some time to process everything.

"fair enough fresa, take all the time you need. but know your hermana's do love you, very very much."

~

"this is nearly done, go choose something to watch." eli nodded as you moved off the stool you'd been sat on and headed toward the living room, clicking on the tv.

"something funny? a love story? action movie?" you called out as you flicked through the genre's. "mami do you have a pref-" you glanced toward her right as there was a loud clatter and your eyes widened.

"mami! estás bien?" you were by her side in an instant, the older woman clutching her chest and rapidly shaking her head as you panicked. "mierda!" you fumbled around in your pockets, pulling out your phone and calling for help.

you rattled off quickly what was happening, your anxiety sky rocketing as suddenly the older woman fell to the ground still clutching at her chest as the medical officer on the other end of the line calmly told you an ambulance was dispatched and talked you through what to do.

"mami? mami? mami!" you repeated, struggling to breathe yourself as suddenly the older womans eyes closed and she went limp and unresponsive. the operater encouraging you stay on the line and assuring the ambulance would be there any second now.

"i don't know if she's breathing!" you cried out, unsure how to check for a pulse as rapid knocks were heard at your door and you forced yourself away from eli's limp body, two paramedics barreling in the moment you unlocked the door.

the operator now hanging up a third paramedic gently assured you were doing all the right things and eli needed to go to hospital, promising you that she was still breathing as you nodded.

"is your papi here querida?" the paramedic asked softly as you watched them carefully load your mami onto a stretcher. "he's dead." you replied bluntly, panic peaking as the other two spoke so fast you couldn't understand but they were saying but you knew it was serious.

"venga, go get your shoes and you can ride with your mami in the ambulance." the older woman squeezed your shoulder with a kind smile, repeating the words and shaking you lightly when you remained rooted in spot watching them push the stretcher into the back of the ambulance.

your worry only continued when no one could really give you any answers, only repeating you would be at the hospital soon as they lowered an oxygen mask onto eli and spoke to one another in what felt like a second language over her head.

it was worse when you finally did arrive to the hospital, your mami wheeled off and out of sight as you panicked when you were informed you couldn't go with her and would need to sign it at the front desk and wait in emergency for further information.

"how old are you cariño?" the receptionist asked carefully when taking down your information. "seventeen." you replied, eyes straying every few seconds to the doors eli had been wheeled away into as if willing she would miraculously walk back out and all would be fine.

"you need to be over eighteen to be an emergency contact and sign the paperworker for your mami. is there anyone else who could come?" the lady asked as you sighed but nodded, knowing exactly who you needed to call as you excused yourself and pulled out your phone.

"alexia? algo malo sucedió, i need you."

~

alexia thanked the gods that she wasn't caught by police as she flew down the streets of barcelona going easily double the speed limit, barely saying two words to olga before she had her keys in hand and was sprinting out the door already on the phone to alba.

finding a park she locked her car and raced across the lot, chest tightening as she stepped into the emergency department, eyes scanning the waiting room before finally spotting you.

you'd always been shorter than her but sat on the chair in the waiting room drowned in a hoodie which was two sizes too big and staring off into space you looked positively tiny in alexia's mind.

you jolted and tensed up as arms were thrown around you, alexia noticing right away and letting go trying not to focus on how much it pained her that even in the current situation you couldn't hug her.

"you have to go fill in the admission paperwork at the front desk." you mumbled with a nod, refusing to even look her in the eye as you tucked your knees to your chest resting your chin on them.

spotting alba over your shoulder alexia caught her eye and stepped away toward the front desk leaving you with her, glancing repeatedly to the two of you every few seconds as she filled in the necessary documents.

"someone will be out later with more information." was the only answer she got when asking for an update on eli's condition, frustrated but knowing that now all you could all do was wait.

"hermanita what happened?" alexia crouched down in front of you as alba sat beside you, you shifted a little uncomfortably under the intensity of their stares but sighed.

"i don't know. mami was making dinner and everything was fine, i stepped away to find something for us to watch and i looked over when she dropped something and she was just grabbing at her chest-" you began to recount, your sisters hanging off your every word.

"-she couldn't speak she didn't even yell out or cry in pain or anything she was just silent but she looked terrified. then i called the ambulance and she fell down and her eyes closed and she went limp, i didn't know if she was breathing." you exhaled shakily and paused for a second before continuing.

"she didn't respond to anything i said or did she just laid there. and then the paramedics came and put her on a stretcher and we went in the ambulance and came here. then they wheeled her off back there and wouldn't tell me anything because i'm not eighteen." you puffed out air through your nose at that last part.

"they wouldn't tell me anything either, just said someone will be out with more information later." alexia sighed wearily, standing to her feet and sitting on your other side.

"oh fresa." alba started sympathetically, stretching an arm across your shoulders intending to draw you into her side but you shrugged her off. "please don't touch me." you muttered, your sisters sharing a concerned look over your head.

"hey nena we just-" alexia tried next, her hand which sat on your leg pushed away as you wordlessly stood and moved to a different row of chairs on the other side of the room sitting back down.

"just give her some space ale, she's clearly shaken up." alba stopped alexia where she stood to follow you. "even now she runs away like she's scared. mierda we're in the hospital!" alexia snapped as alba pulled her into a hug.

"she's not scared of you alexia she's just hurt, and we both know she has every right to be." alba reminded as the older girl exhaled and sunk back into her chair with a nod, both of them watching you cautiously as you seemed on another planet just looking off into space.

"segura?" around an hour later an official looking woman in scrubs and a clipboard called out, both of your sisters up and on their feet as you were quick to follow.

"daughters?" the woman clarified as you all nodded.

"your mami went into mild cardiac arrest, she's mostly stable but still out while we run some more tests to try and determine the cause. her heartbeat is quite irregular and she's having trouble breathing on her own so we've got her hooked up to a ventilator." the woman explained reading off her clipboard.

"can we see her?" alexia asked hopefully, deflating at the shake of head that followed. "she's in the coronary ward but she's being taken for some more tests soon. once we get the results of these initial ones she's just had someone will come speak to you, but all three of you don't need to be here." you frowned as that last sentence was clearly directed your way.

"gracias but we will all be staying." alexia stepped up protectively, the woman nodding before she stepped away and alexia rolled her eyes. "hey, have you eaten?" alba suddenly realised looking at you as you shook your head.

"vamos, the cafeteria should still be open." alba encouraged as you made no move to argue with her, tucking your hands into the pockets of your hoodie and nodding.

"go call olga. do you want a coffee?" alba checked as alexia nodded appreciatively, all three of you parting ways. you seemed lost in your own head as you arrived to the cafeteria, alba bumping you gently with her shoulder and nodding for you to pick something.

anxious and uptight you simply chose a sandwich, not really wanting to eat but knowing your sister well enough that if you didn't pick something she'd just pick for you.

"coffee?" alba offered as you shook your head, quickly paying for your sandwich before she could. "hey! i would have gotten that." your sister shoved you lightly as you shrugged, alba relieved when you didn't complain about the slight touch. "i have money." you replied dismissively, moving to take a seat while alba waited for their coffees.

it would seem you were hungrier than you realised as you polished off the sandwich in a few bites, finishing right as alba grabbed the coffees and you stood to follow her back to the waiting room, grateful she wasn't trying to push a conversation.

you took your seat again on the other side of the room to your sisters, missing the way their eyes raked over you with concern at how you stared blankly off into space, not a hint of emotion present in your features.

you of course were plagued with emotions, especially a growing anxiousness toward all the 'what ifs' which came with your mami's hospitalization and all the unknown details.

but determined to prove once and for all you weren't a baby anymore you'd bottled these feelings up, keeping them under lock and key in your own mind as you did your best not to let them show.

though as more time passed that anxiety grew and grew and grew and suddenly you couldn't seem to rid your brain of all the worse case scenarios racing around on repeat, sending your body into a sort of shock as you blocked out the world around you.

shaking your head and trying to zone back in you stood, needing a drink of some sorts and remembering having passed a vending machine on your way back from the cafeteria.

alexia watched you go with a small frown, alba having somehow fallen asleep in the hard chair next to her as the time was now nearing midnight and still they'd had no further news.

the overprotective older sister in her told her to call olga and have her come pick you up and take you to their home, though the slightly quieter but more rational side knew if she even suggested that it would only upset you and you'd refuse.

when a few minutes passed and you didn't return alexia grew a little worried, shaking a grumpy alba back awake and shoving half a cold coffee into her hand before following after you.

you glared at the vending machine in annoyance as again you tapped your phone to pay and punched in the numbers for the drink you wanted but it made no move to deliver it to you.

"vamos!" you shook it hoping that might help though to no avail as again nothing happened. trying another two times you were getting dangerously close to a breakdown as all of your bottled up emotions simmered on the surface and you gave the machine a hard kick.

finally the arm moved and grabbed the drink you wanted, but your eyes widened in disbelief as it seemed to die before it could drop into the awaiting chute, the entire machine going dark.

and that, that was what caused you to snap.

a string of curses left your mouth and hot tears welled up in the corner of your eyes as you kicked the machine over and over, missing alexia appear at the end of the hallway and race toward you.

"hey hey hey." you tensed as her arms grabbed your biceps and pulled you away, delivering one last hard kick to the machine before alexia had tugged you out of reach.

"get off!" you grunted though it came out as more of a choked up broken sob as alexia's heart dropped and despite the warning voice in the back of her head she refused to let go.

"alexia let go of me!" you cried out trying to pull away but your sister shook her head. "no." you weren't sure if it was the tone of her voice, your sheer exhaustion or the final overflow of the emotions which had been simmering for the last few hours but you gave in.

it was now alexia who tensed up in surprise as you suddenly turned in her arms and hugged her tightly, fists balling at her jumper as alexia relaxed and held you.

"está bien fresa, está bien. mami will be fine, everything will be fine." your sister cooed, hand rubbing small circles on your back as the other cradled your head which pressed into her shoulder.

a nurse walking past gave alexia a sympathetic smile which she returned, whispering assuring words in your ear and holding you tightly, no different than she would when you were upset and much younger.

after a few minutes you managed to calm yourself down a little, and realising who it was that was actively holding you had you pulling away and wiping your eyes with the corner of your sleeves.

"do you want to go for a walk?" alexia offered softly, and as much as the prospect of being alone with her wasn't ideal you really weren't up for returning to the silent stark white waiting room just yet so you nodded.

"wait." alexia held up a finger, glancing around to make sure no one was around before quite literally ramming her body shoulder first into the vending machine as your drink dropped down into the chute from the force.

"needed a footballers touch." your sister smiled handing it to you as you quietly thanked her. not really with any destination in mind the two of you started to wander, a comfortable distance between you as alexia ignored the urge to tuck you into her side like she would when you were younger.

"i do not think i have been in hospital this time of night since you broke your arm." alexia chanced a conversation, sending you a look which you met with a frown.

"i didn't break it alba broke it." you muttered with a slight huff causing a smile to curl onto your sisters lips at the memory.

you were eight years old and eli was working a night shift which left you in the care of both your older sisters for the evening.

showered and dinner had you'd all been watching a movie, dirty dancing, one you found incredibly boring and made a point to tell both your sisters this repeatedly throughout the entire film.

"he's strong!" you marveled as suddenly the main actor lifted his female counterpart into the air, holding her up easily and turning her around mid air. "pft thats easy!" alba dismissed with a scoff as you lifted your head from alexia's lap.

"you couldn't do it, chicken legs." you challenged as alba shot you a filthy glare which had you shrinking into your eldest sister who'd fallen asleep not long after the movie started, having trained twice today and gotten up early for a run.

"could too!" alba shot back as you shook your head. "could not." "could too!" "could not!" "could too!" "could not!"

"cállate por favor!" alexia interjected with a tired groan, eyes fluttering open and her hand moving to cover your mouth as you went to continue the argument.

"you are arguing with an eight year old?" alexia sighed at alba who rolled her eyes but ignored the question. "i could fresa. vamos, we will do it right now!" your middle sister stood and gestured for you to do the same as you wrenched alexia's hand off you.

"what are you both doing now? she should be in bed alba!"" alexia exhaled deeply, her own bed also calling her name. "bah! in a minute. go get a run up hermanita." alba ordered as you shrugged and jumped down from the couch.

"i do not even know what is happening and i know its a bad idea." alexia sighed rubbing her eyes with a shake of her head. "vale fresa, on my count!" alba encouraged readying herself as alexia watched on with a raised eyebrow.

"tres, dos, uno!" you sprinted on one, jumping as she grabbed you and indeed lifted you easily into the air. "muy bonito. the putellas hermanas everyone!" alexia's voice dripped with sarcasm as she clapped slowly with a roll of her eyes.

but what all three of you failed to miss was alba backing up dangerously close to the coffee table, alexia noticing just a millisecond too late.

"alba watch out for the-" the brunette started to warn before your sister made contact and tripped backwards. you hardly blinked then your body was dropping to the ground and a sickening crunch was heard.

"ay dios mio!" alba sat up and paled seeing your arm as you let out a scream, alexia dropping to her knees without a second thought and scooping you up. "get the car keys now!" she barked at alba who scrambled to her feet and raced off.

"hey hey hey fresa está bien, estás bien. don't cry nena don't cry!" alexia cooed, covering your eyes so you couldn't look down at your arm which was very clearly broken, your sobs muffled into her jumper as she sprinted out to the car, alba sliding into the drivers seat as alexia sat beside her still cradling you tightly in her arms.

"ale shouldn't she sit in the ba-" "drive alba! now!"

"she might have broke it but i'm the one who got in trouble for it!" alexia rolled her eyes with a small smile as you both turned around and headed back the way you came.

"i still was the worst off because it was my arm that was broken!" you reminded with a grunt. "hey you got a cast and jenni drew all over it, closest you got to having tattoos." alexia shrugged and you allowed yourself a small smile.

"and then you yelled at jenni and made her scribble over what she drew." you chuckled as alexia groaned. "because you were not going to school with detailed female anatomy on your arm." alexia sighed.

"it was educational!" "don't quote her! it was very inappropriate for an eight year old."

"that cast was so itchy it was the worst!" you sighed with a shake of your head. "then you threw a tantrum because it was white and not coloured." alexia teased lightly as you rolled your eyes.

"because liliana also broke her arm the week after and she got a red cast, and then everyone said she was faster than me." you frowned at the memory. "sí because red is the fastest colour?" alexia laughed beside you.

"obviously alexia, everybody knows that." you sighed as you both returned to the waiting room and at the tense atmosphere you clamped up again, falling silent and returning to your chair making your sister frown.

"anything?" alexia asked taking her own seat next to alba again. "she is done with tests for the night but still out of it, her breathing is better but her heart beat is still very irregular so they will monitor her closely." alba explained with a sigh, her eyes hovering over to you.

"anything?" her younger sister echoed the question back to alexia in regards to you now. "she had a slight meltdown but she didn't want to talk about it, got a hug out of her though and then we went for a walk and talked about when you broke her arm trying to do that stupid lift." alexia explained.

"and i proved i could do it!" alba defended as alexia gave her a side eye. "alba that is what you take from what i said?" the eldest putellas scoffed as alba shrugged, though before either girl could say anything the nurse from earlier reappeared and waved alexia over.

"you and your sisters should go home. you will not be able to see your mami until she is awake and more stable which will not be before tomorrow at least. she cannot afford anything to stress her out or affect her heart rate further until we have more answers on what caused the cardiac arrest." the nurse explained as alexia frowned but nodded.

"you are her emergency contact sí? we will call you once things change and you can all see your mami. but for now go home and rest, you cannot do anything else for her right now and she is in the best place being well looked after." the nurse encouraged before leaving again.

your eldest sister quickly filling alba in you were so zoned out you hadn't even seen her speak to the nurse, staring off into space as alexia took the seat beside you and bumped her shoulder into yours softly to gain your attention before filling you in.

"okay." you nodded quietly, glancing anxiously over your shoulder toward the doors where you'd last seen eli with a pained expression. "hey, they are right hermana there is nothing else we can do. you will come home with me and stay the night and we can go and see mami once she is awake." alexia's words had you shaking your head.

"its fine just take me home, i will be fine." you declined the offer firmly.

"i wasn't asking. you will stay with olga and i tonight and we can talk more about it tomorrow, its late and i think we all need some sleep. i will sleep better knowing you aren't in that house by yourself." alexia spoke softly but firmly, admittedly surprised when you gave in with a curt nod, making no move to argue.

"and you will call me as soon as you hear anything?" alba stressed as alexia sighed tiredly, unlocking her car for you to get into a little while later. "sí. as soon as i hear anything you will know!" alexia promised, drawing her younger sister into a hug before alba walked off to her own car and alexia slid into the drivers seat.

respecting that it didn't seem you were in any mood to talk alexia didn't try to make you, having already paid for her parking she slipped the ticket in and pulled out of the lot.

you watched the dimply lit streets of barcelona fly past in a blur, music filling the somewhat awkward tension in the car helping it to ease a little and before you knew it alexia was parking in the garage of her complex.

you exited the car and followed her into the elevator, still not a single word shared between either of you as your sister twirled her keys around on her finger and you both stepped out onto her floor.

alexia hadn't even turned the key in the door before it was swinging open, olga stood there with a sympathetic smile as you shuffled inside, wrapping your arms around yourself a little awkwardly as your sister kissed her girlfriend hello and closed the door.

"hermana do you want a shower? something to eat? drink?" alexia tried with a smile as you shook your head. "i'm tired." you hinted heavily, shifting from one foot to another and sending olga a small smile.

"vale, spare rooms all made up." alexia nodded behind you and with a quiet good night mumbled you were gone, door closing after you with a click as alexia seemed to deflate now you were no longer there.

"vamos mi amor, you look exhausted." olga encouraged softly, grabbing her girlfriends hand and alexia made no move to fight as she was pulled to her own bedroom, quickly changing and laying down in bed before filling olga in on everything.

"hey that sounds like some steps forward cariño? even just baby ones." the younger girl smiled softly as alexia hummed, the two finished speaking about eli and now moving onto you.

"and she came to your game, no?" olga continued as alexia shrugged. "because mami made her, and she'd rather talk to mapi than me." a slightly jealous pout curled onto her lips making her girlfriend chuckle and run a hand through her hair.

"she posted about going to the game? thats something." olga tried again as alexia gave her an odd look. "where? i did not see that." your sister frowned as olga grabbed her phone and clicked into instagram.

"see? shows she is not embarrassed to be at your game." olga showed your story as alexia's frown deepened and she was quick to grab her own phone from the nightstand.

"i don't see it?" your sister showed that your profile showed no story, comparing it side by side to olga's screen.

"amor what does this mean?" she pointed to the green trim around the edges of your story on olga's screen. "its on her close friends story." olga explained as alexia's eyes widened.

"she has a close friends story? why?" "a lot of people have them for privacy and stuff hermosa, especially teenagers." "privacy?" "sí, they might post stories that they do not want all their followers to be able to see so they have a close friends story where they can control who see's certain things." "and you....you are on her close friends." "sí, and lo siento mi amor but it looks like you are not."

"qué! i'm not going to show her stories to mami!" alexia scoffed as olga avoided her eyes. "why would she not want me on her close friends? i am a cool older sister!" alexia protested, clearly spiraling at this new information

"what? you want to say something, what?" alexia sat up a little and pressed her girlfriend who sighed. "querida. te quiero, mucho mucho mucho." olga started, grabbing alexia's hands in hers and kissing her knuckles.

"but you are...awkward ale. very very awkward!" olga winced as alexia's mouth formed a small o and she pulled her hands away. "no i am not! i play for barça, i go to fun events, i go to restaurants and bars and i travel and take nice photos. i take lots of photos of you all the time! i'm cool, i am!" alexia spiraled further as olga grabbed her hands again.

"you are thirty alexia, she is seventeen. i am sure its not personal! you are very cool amor, very cool." olga cooed in an attempt to soothe the blonde who scowled, crossing her arms and laying back down in bed.

"you are to your hermanita probably just...a little too old for her close friends story mi vida." "olga!"

~

you jolted upright in bed, body drenched in sweat and chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath, tucking your knees up to your chest and rocking slightly with your eyes closed.

you hadn't had a nightmare in years but the one you'd just awoken from after the day you'd had meant your entire body was rigid and coiled with a cocktail of anxiety and dread.

being in your older sisters house in a bed and room that wasn't yours was not helping in the slightest. as your eyes adjusted to the darkness you kicked off the unfamiliar sheets which felt sticky and foreign against your skin.

managing to slow your breathing down a little you found your throat was dry, stripping off your hoodie and quietly leaving your room. a quick glance down the hall showing alexia's bedroom light was off you made a beeline for the kitchen.

you checked a few different cupboards before finally finding the glasses, doing your best to be quiet as you filled it with water and chugged it down, not hearing the soft footsteps which followed yor own.

"hermana?" you jumped a foot in the air and just caught the now empty glass by your fingertips as you nearly dropped it, grabbing at your chest and bending over a little as alexia stepped more into view.

"don't do that!" you warned in a harsh whisper, filling up the glass again and stepping aside as alexia grabbed her own glass and did the same. "lo siento. why are you up?" your sister asked with a concerned frown as you pointed to the glass in your hand and took a seat at the counter.

"did you have a nightmare? you only used to get up for water in the middle of the night when you had a bad dream." alexia asked softly once a few minutes passed and you hadn't made a move to return to your room.

you stayed silent as alexia leaned on the counter, not wanting to push you but watching the look of internal termoil clear on your face as your hands gripped the glass sat in front of you.

"if mami died i'd be all alone."

your words caught alexia off guard, a horrible sinking gut wrenching heart crushing feeling settling in her stomach as neither of you moved or spoke a word for at least a minute.

then once she seemed to snap out of the trance she'd been sent into she was rounding the counter, the thump of her glass against the counter bringing you back down to earth too and before you could take a breath there were hands either side of your face.

"no, no no no no. fresa you would never ever ever be alone. i would not let that happen no matter what i promise. i love you mi hermana, far too much to ever let you be alone. i would do anything for you!" alexia whispered out, holding your face firmly in your hands and her heart ached more seeing the tears pool in the corner of your eyes.

"then why did you stop trying to show me that? i have felt alone for the last year alexia! i felt like i have only had mami for the last year!" you could barely get your words out without your voice cracking, alexias stomach plummeting.

"because i am stupid and selfish and i saw you having friends and a life and i assumed you didn't need me around as much which was so wrong. i stopped checking in, i stopped making an effort and i hurt you. it is my biggest regret fresa, and not a day will go by where i will not wish i could change what has happened but i can't!" alexia's own eyes bore into yours filled with remorse.

"i know you are grown up now, but you will always be mi baby hermana. the same baby i held when you were born, watched learn how to talk and walk and whose hand i held when i walked you to school, who would steal my clothes or hide my boots so i didn't have to go to training because you would miss me and you couldn't come with me." alexia rambled, too far gone now to stop herself from word vomiting.

"the same baby who copied everything i did and snuck into my bed at night because you didn't like to sleep alone, who i would carry to the car when you fell asleep under the table at christmas dinner, who i tried to force to like football and accidentally knocked your front teeth out when i hit you in the face with the ball." alexia exhaled and finally stopped to take a breath before looking like she was going to continue.

"alexia." you sighed and pulled her hands away from your face.

"i know you and alba are trying, but it is really hard for me to see it as sincere when i tried for so long to tell you how i felt and neither of you listened." you spoke calmly, having swallowed the tears which wanted to burst forward.

"it is late and i am tired and it has been a really long night, i can't talk about this with you right now." you stood to your feet and went to leave, your sister grabbing your wrist gently as you paused.

"nena you would never be alone, vale? never." her lips ghosted your forehead but you were grateful she didn't pull you in for a hug, worried that would be the thing to tip you over the edge still actively swallowing back tears.

nodding at her words she let you go and the both of you returned back to your rooms though sleep didn't grace either you nor your older sister, both laying now wide awake and staring at the ceiling.

and alexia meant every word, she would fix this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

four

[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)

⌕ prev | join taglist | feedback & requests | upcoming chapters | table of contents | sip of sunshine | next ↻

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? Pap��, 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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[sunkissedscribbles]

Mattheo Riddle's Guide To Win Y/N's Heart

pairing: mattheo x fem!reader (house not clarified)

genre: fluff

tw: my bad writing

word count: 1532

summary: mattheo's desperately trying to lure you in by using psychological tricks on you.

a/n: okay, this one might not be the best, but it's sweet. also, i wrote this in the middle of the night lol

masterlist

dividers by @chachachannah

It all started a week ago when Mattheo strutted into the Great Hall in the morning with that stupid, confident grin plastered across his lips.

“It’s 7:30. In the morning,” Theo raised an eyebrow at him as to why he was in a good mood so early for his liking.

“I have the master plan to get Y/N to date me,” Mattheo stated proudly, to which Enzo and Theo shared a look, and the latter snorted a laugh.

“And how are you gonna do that, Casanova?” Pansy chimed in too.

“Psychology,” Mattheo shrugged simply, deeply believing that his master plan would work perfectly.

He read in Enzo’s book that if you want to be appealing to a woman, you should sit across her at a table and if about to win a man’s heart, you should sit right beside him. So, the first trick he tried was sitting across you at the table in all cases, even if it meant two people — including you — sitting on the one side and five people squeezed together on the one across because Mattheo wanted to sit across you with millimeter accuracy. First, you didn’t understand it one bit. You only sensed Mattheo growing weirder by the day and your friends having more fun directly proportionally and putting two and two together, you realized these two are actually related.

The next thing was wearing red. Now this one was a hilarious one; on Tuesday afternoon when you, Enzo, and Mattheo were due to study together for Arithmancy (which, may I mention, Mattheo only took up because you did so too), Mattheo slumped down on the chair across you at the table in the library, wearing a Gryffindor hoodie.

“What on earth-“ Enzo shook his head in disbelief but you had to fight back a loud outburst of laughter.

“Hi, Y/N,” Mattheo grinned confidently but you shook your head with a grin still lingering on your lips.

“Whose is this?” you nodded in the direction of the hoodie hugging his upper body.

See, the problem with wearing red was that he didn’t own a single clothing piece of the colour, so he had to think outside the box and be creative for this one.

He looked down nonchalantly and shrugged with that familiar smirk. “Longbottom’s. I’m sure he doesn’t mind.”

Enzo buried his face into his hands next to you, trying to hold a groan back from escaping as your mouth hung open and your eyes widened. “He doesn’t know?”

“His door was open…”

You, knowing Mattheo, lifted your eyebrows in disbelief as he clearly didn’t tell the exact truth.

“Well- it wasn’t open, but soon it opened magically and I took it as an invitation…”

“You Alohomora’d his door to get a burgundy hoodie for Merlin-knows-what?”

“Well, y- wait. Burgundy? This is red,” Mattheo shook his head as he stiffened. He was convinced it was pure red — boys and their eyes for colours, huh?

Enzo snorted a laugh finally, knowing exactly Mattheo was trying to use the ‘red makes you appear more attractive’ law of psychology on you and he technically failed.

“No, darling, this is burgundy,” you chuckle which by the way, Mattheo found adorable, even in the middle of his embarrassment, plus, you called him darling — so he took it that you actually fell for his trick and, well, for him too.

But of course, there were things in Enzo’s psychology book Mattheo didn’t even think of doing. This was, for one, playing hard to get. Because he knew his eyes would have failed him every time he’d tried to close you out, and he knew exactly how well you were able to see right through him. You being concerned about him was also a problem with this because as Pansy once absent-mindedly drew his attention to how you noticed people’s energies shift pretty quickly, he had to close this option out completely.

Another one was putting on a cocky, intimidating, or prideful look because of the same reason; you noticing the energy shifts, and because no matter how hard he’d tried, that stupid grin had grown on him and your sight only fueled it.

He tried mirroring your body language, too. You were leaning forward at breakfast, tiredly resting against the wooden dining table? He was sitting opposite you, sitting as if he was actually in your mirror. You ran a hand through your hair? Guess what, he had to scratch his head. Even when your leg was bouncing nervously under the desk in History of Magic, he sure mirrored it.

You weren’t oblivious to this either, and you knew something was up — but you simply thought he was playing a prank on you. And your friends being awfully quiet whenever you brought up how weird Mattheo was being around you only added to your suspicion.

“I see” was a common way for him to start whatever he had on his mind. Because, research by MIT showed that women were more attracted to men who used the phrases “I see,” “Okay,” and “Yep.” And for him, he used them until he’s grown sick of them.

But of all the things he’d tried, his favourite — and yours too — was touching. Touching you had always lightened his day, even if it was just a tap on your shoulder to enquire about the time. And his touch provided reassurance for you, whenever he touched you for even a split second you knew you had someone to count on, someone to be comforted by. When you were tired in class he had a shoulder to offer for you to rest your head on (not Theo though because he could go fuck himself rather than sleep on his best friend’s shoulder, respectfully, in the best friend in question’s opinion.) When you were anxious, he chose to put his quill down and not take notes, rather have his hand comforting you by rubbing little circles on your thigh just above your knee (and sometimes a little too high), having his arm around you or playing with your hair, saying he’d borrow your notes later to catch up, which he never did.

However, things haven’t changed for two more weeks. And, as time went on, Mattheo grew more and more desperate, seeking the moment he could finally hold you in his arms and kiss the life out of you. He was waiting for the moment when he could confess his love to you — or, which would have been more convenient, and a whole ego boost for him, to have you come crawling by yourself, singing odes about him. But he realized it was a rather unlikely scenario that lived rent-free in his head.

“That book sucks,” Mattheo complained to Enzo one evening in the common room frustratedly as he sank into the green velvet material of the couch.

“Why so?” Enzo didn’t even look up from his Transfiguration essay he was desperately trying to put a dot on the end of for an hour.

“‘Cause I tried everything! And Y/N still doesn’t have a clue how I love her,” he let out a grunt as he let his head fall back against the backrest of the sofa and rubbed his closed eyes tiredly. “She’s still not into me.”

“I am into you,” your voice came down on him like a rain of cold ice. After nagging for two whole weeks, Pansy agreed to fill you in about what Mattheo called his master plan, and you finally understood what it was all about.

Mattheo’s eyes shot open to see he hasn’t hallucinated your reassuring words in that sweet tone you always talk to him with, and to make sure you are very physically standing there. He quickly got up from where he was and sat on the couch next to Enzo, who seemed to be in a completely other world with how concentrated he was on his Transfiguration homework.

Mattheo quickly made his way over to you, standing just a few feet apart with that stupid grin already growing on his lips as he took you, your gorgeous figure, bright smile, and shiny eyes in. “Are you now, princess?” He asked in a tone sweet like honey while tugging a strand of hair behind your ear.

You rolled your eyes at him before taking a step closer to the point that your chests were grinding against each other, to Mattheo’s biggest pleasure. And before he knew it, your lips came crashing against his in a long-awaited kiss and his arms slithered around your waist so naturally like they were made to be resting there. However, you pulled away after a few seconds before it could’ve got a little too carried away. “Did you really steal Longbottom’s hoodie so that I’d find you more attractive?” You chuckled with a touched but still a little mocking smile.

“Borrowed it. I returned it after you told me it wasn’t the right colour,” he rolled his eyes at you too, but he was the happiest guy on earth right then and there because he had all right to wrap his arms around you like a shield, protecting you from the world and its horrible people.

[astralnymphh]

YES PLEASE. BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE?? 90’s?? SIGN ME UP. WHERE DO I PUT MY NAME??😖😖🙏

- 🩵

a/n + cw; OMGG AN EMOJI ANON i haven't seen you guys in a hot minute, but YESSS BLOCKBUSTER ELLIE!! specifically x customer reader. it's a cute duo! and let me relay why from my very scrambled 3 am jot-down. was going to make this a blurb, but it better translates through something more structured. ++ SFW! kinda mean!reader tbh (but ellie likes that), very fluffy you might squeet, quickly written, awkwardness, ellie being a nerd. [first pic from amoaeIIie on pinterest]

Imagine Ellie, in her blockbuster getup, leaning her butt into the edge of the register counter, jamming to whatever is playing on her hand-me-down walkman; earsbuds in, eyes downcast, head bopping slowing - soundly unaware of you awaiting service on your over-due rental. "Hello?" your volume divides the soft ambiance of the store, but it isn't enough to rope Ellie's mindspace from the clouds. Calling out again, "Hell-looh?" you extend beyond the cash register and wave your hand - nothing, nada.

How the hell has this girl not gotten her ass fired yet?

After numerous roadblocks, a brazen last resort comes into play. You cut around the counter briefly to take things into your own hands (literally) because you have not the time, nor the patience, for her slacking off.

Beryl eyes drop sharply to the walkman in her pants pocket when a single earbud is spooled from her ear, assuming it fell - but to her surprise, it hung low from your finger, and a glance above that finger was your face. Risen of one brow, flat-lined of your lips; impatient.

And her entire focus blanks out when you begin to speak, curtly and satirically, "Hey, I know busting out your Dad's old walkman in public makes you feel cool and whatnot, but you're on the clock." handing the slim cord back over to a stunned girl, flushed behind the pop of her freckles. Maybe your tone of voice sent her higher into the clouds, past a coven of angels, because her lips part narrowly and remain still for a single second - save two or three. Or maybe it's 'cause you specified it as her 'Dad's' which was.. spot on.

And whatever excuse she had quickly cherry-picked for you, hesitated audibly in her throat before it split from it, "O-Oh, right, shit sorry - was about to end my shift n' thought the store was empty. My bad." scrambling to stuff the other earplug in her pocket and avert all attention to you. Very eagerly.

"Looks like you've got a late fee on this one.." her pitch pummeled deeper, and coarser as she concentrates on the clunky screen she hunches slightly to use. Scrunching the freckles of her face together, hogging the blue-lit screen. Poor girl probably forgot her glasses at home. "Annnd are you looking to rent the sequel?" she peeks her auburn head from the screen and holds up the cased movie, tracing her index over the plastic cleft, tapping twice. "To this - it has a second part."

There's no denying it: she is cute - and guilt rolls your guts around for being so snippy and sullen to her earlier. But based on her demeanor growing enthused the second she saw what movie you had in hand - she doesn't seem to care a hoot.

"Out of stock," replied you, indifferent-sounding - and strking; crossed arms, bent knee, stiffly-standing. Comparable to a millpond. "Guess I won't be the only person with late fees." you take a breath to jest, shaking loose strands of hair from your eyes.

"Haha," you're no world-class comedian; that joke wasn't all that funny, but the need to hurl any affirming noise at you, was necessary. Relenting to reflex. What can she say? Love at first sight! "Yeah, that seems like the agenda these days," Ellie sighs out, molding the plump of her lip under her teeth and reshapes it into a dorky smirk. Isn't she just a sweet chocolate-box of adorability?

"Hmm, bummer."

That hum and word trips into her ears, knocking some brain-cog, and an idea limns her features; they glow wide. "Actually - um, I've got a copy of the sequel at my place. Technically it's my Dad's, but.." her pitch fluctuates, mindlessly thumbing the case between two fiddly hands. "Maybe you can - if you want, not pressuring you or anything - come over?" she throws a pointed thumb backwards, motioning a potential future. "Watch it? If you weren't planning on watching it with somebody else."

Slick trick to seeing if you're single; of course you'd watch movies with your boyfriend - or girlfriend.

"Hmmm.." you hummed longer this time, and this time it admitted the mushrooming of an almost aggravating anticipation in her belly. Like you meant to torture her with 'hmms' and nothing but 'hmms' as your answer hung high in cloudy abeyance, until, "What's the name on your tag - ah, Ellie."

"Yeah?"

"Ellie," you confirm her name twice, and speak it to enthrall her full-scale attention. Made it sound fucking sugary sweet, through a swirly whisper and a twist of your head. "If you can give me a discount, or a full wipe on that late fee, then yes. It's a date."

Light panic ensues. "Date?" she croaks and laughs it off, "I mean - pshh, guess that's one way to put it." backtracking to her hunched, elbows-on-the-counter pose.

"You put it that way."

"Yeah, I just.. didn't wanna admit that." immediately, she uncurls her spine again, relaxing her muscles to somewhat peer at you. "Sure. No more fees." Rounded eyes lost - adamant on indirectly staring at you and the space below you, because Goddess forbid a stroke of idiocy flickers through her while gawking at you.

The store runs dead-quiet in the background of your conversation, leading you to one golden question. "Your shift over after this?"

Oh damn, her cheeks are pink. "Uh-huh," bet she's oblivious to that red-hot beam nearly bursting the seams to her face, too. Nasal lines fold as a severe smile tugs, shadowed by her bent thumb poking at it. "Takin' my car?"

And that's how you pick up girls at a video store in the 90s - the Ellie Williams way.

this isn't even the full idea

[sincerelyneo]

hickeys | z.cl

❯ summary: Your boyfriend, Chenle, is competitive. And even though the comment about you giving better hickeys than him was a joke — he’s always up for the chance to prove you wrong. Yes, he loves you, but that doesn’t mean he’d let you get away with thinking he was bad at something — especially not something you claim you’re better at than him — so he settles it.

�� pairings: chenle x fem!reader

❯ genre: established relationship, very suggestive, fluffish, very slight minor angst, reader is slightly inexperienced.

❯ words: 2.9k

❯ tags: 18+ minors dni!, marking/hickeys, a lot of kissing, light petting, chenle is sulky, brief mentions of jealousy, chenle and reader have a hickey competition idk????

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” your boyfriend huffs, shaking off his coat as the two of you usher through your shared apartment. 

He’s pissed — scrap that — he’s beyond fuming. He’s angry that the guy at the coffee shop you frequent every morning thought he could ask you for your number the moment he slipped away to the bathroom.

He just can’t seem to quite understand it. It’s not like you were alone — you and Chenle had walked in together. And Chenle knew the guy on the counter knew who he was because, for the last three months of your relationship, the two of you had made it a habit to get coffee at that same cafe on your street corner every morning. 

“He probably just didn’t realise we were together. Don’t think too hard about it babe,” you say wrapping your hands around his waist as he hangs up his stuff on the coat rack.

Chenle rolls his eyes before turning around. He’s upset you’re trying to brush this off, but he knows it’s not your fault so he still places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. Then, he unwraps your hands from him and walks to sink into the soft black couch, pulling out his phone and scrolling through it. 

You know he’s still pissed but is pretending not to be. You see the harsh way he’s gripping his phone case, and the way his eyebrows keep knitting together, and the frustrated sighs he keeps letting pass through his nose. 

But the whole thing is silly really — but you know he doesn’t see it that way. And honestly, if the shoe was on the other foot, you’d be beyond pissed too. 

“He didn’t realise we were together my ass,” he mumbles.

You cross your arms over your chest as you stand in front of him, “are you seriously jealous right now?”

He sees the way you’re smirking at him, teasing him, and he hates it. 

“Being jealous would mean he has something I want-” he puts his phone down on the spot next to him and leans forward on his knees, eyes fixed on you “-I already have you. He should be jealous of me.”

You let that comment slide with a roll of your eyes.

“He might just be new, LeLe, and he might not have seen us walk in together.” 

Chenle knows that’s not possible. He knows the barista was not some new recruit — he was the same guy he’s clocked eyeing you every time he seemed to be on shift. Your boyfriend hated the way the man's eyes would flick to your lips as you ordered; and the way he’d let his hand linger for too long when passing you your change. 

At first, he didn’t mind it. He was proud to have such a beautiful girlfriend that was so unaware of the effect she had on other people. What bothered him was when he made a point to wrap his hand around your waist, tight, and the man didn’t care, still making advances at you. 

Yeah, that’s what pissed him off. 

“It doesn’t matter, he should have seen that hickey on your neck and minded his own fucking business,” he growls. 

Your eyes widen, remembering the way your boyfriend lightly feathered kisses down your neck before sucking down, only hard enough to leave a light bruise as replacement when he pulled off with a pop, last night.

It’s then you realise he’d made sure to do that to you every single night for the last three months — even if you weren’t having sex that night. And even though the mark would be slightly faded come the morning, you still reprimand him for it. 

In fact, your boyfriend had never expressed an interest in marking you until you had started your morning coffee ritual. And then it clicks. 

“Zhong Chenle, have you been marking me on purpose?!”

Your sulky boyfriend sheepishly sinks back into the couch, lips pursing into a line. Your hands go to your hips, and so do his eyes, as you wait for a response from him. 

“It’s not like that, Y/N, I swear, it’s just…he…ugh…I don’t know,” he’s starting to get flustered and you can’t help but giggle at him. 

You take the seat beside him, holding his hands in yours. 

“You’ve been giving me hickeys every single night to prove that I’m yours?” you ask, a smirk twitching at the corner of your lips. Chenle nods, making you smile. “Well, you’re not doing a very good job at it if guys are still hitting on me.”

You’re joking, trying to lighten the mood and add a smile to his face, but he doesn’t find you funny. The minute the words leave your lips, Chenle’s eyes darken, and the hold you have on each other’s hands tightens. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

He drops your hands immediately and turns his body to face away from you. You realise you’re making the situation worse and can’t believe your boyfriend’s being so sulky about something you thought was a none issue. 

“Oh come on, Chenle. I’m just playing around,” you bring your hand to his cheek to turn him back to look at you. He brushes your hand away, but stays facing you — you’re thankful for that at least. 

“Sounds like your saying I give bad hickeys,” he mumbles. You have to laugh at him, he’s being ridiculous. “It’s not funny.”

You roll your eyes, “No, I’m saying maybe I should give you the hickeys from now on to clear up everyone’s confusion.”

“You think you give better hickeys than I do?” His eyes have narrowed on you.

You knew of your boyfriend’s competitive nature, and now he’s giving you a look he only ever really gives to Haechan when the two of them play video games; or Jisung when they’re playing basketball. But now, he’s directing that look at you, tense jaw, tight fist, slit eyes. 

He looks so hot like this, all riled up, confronted and pissed off at you. You can’t help but swallow the lump in your throat and clench your thighs together as your pussy flutters at the sight. 

“Chenle, I’m playing with you-”

“You’re challenging me,” he corrects, leaning in to brush against your skin. He whispers discreetly in your ear. 

You don’t dare to make a sound, feeling the pit in your stomach rise. He takes his middle and pointer fingers and taps them against last night’s purple mark. He pokes his tongue out of his mouth then you feel his wet lips brush the spot. Your breath hitches and Chenle laughs, the throaty sound vibrating on your neck so good you almost moan. 

“This isn’t good enough for you, huh?” he pulls back to examine his work. His fingers are rough as he rubs up and down against the mark, cooing as he soothes the soft spot of your skin. Once he stops, you gasp as his hand grips your jaw so that your eyes meet his. “Think you can do better?”

“C-Chenle,” you breathe out as his grip keeps you in place. You love the dominance the gesture exerts. 

His other hand grazes up your thigh, his thumb caressing the inner part of your skin. The touch is small, but it doesn’t stop your body from going on fire. 

“I think we should put this to the test, don’t you think?” 

“W-W-What do you mean?” You can’t think straight, not with his hand inching closer and closer to your panties. And you know the minute he reaches them, he’ll tease you about the wetness already pooling there. 

“I suck your neck, you suck mine,” he nuzzles back into your neck now, his breath fanning over you as he whispers low. “See which one of us is really better.” 

You shove him back because you can’t believe what he’s saying. Chenle never lets you mark him, not with his job, so you’re in a state of disbelief. That and you just couldn’t take any more of him acting like this without jumping his bones right there on the couch. 

"That’s not fair, you know you have more experience than I do,” you object. 

Chenle huffs, “You’re the one who started this by saying I give bad hickeys.” 

“I never said that.” 

“Might as well of.” 

He’s impossible. 

"And besides baby, have you ever heard of quality over quantity, you could prove me wrong-” his touch comes back as he nuzzles in closer. “I don’t think you will, but I’d love to go see you try.” 

Now it was your turn to feel challenged. If this was how he wants to play, then fine. You were gonna do this, and you were gonna give it your all proving him wrong. You narrow your eyes and lick your lips. 

"Alright, fine. But I’m going first,” you turn your body a fraction to meet his direction. 

Chenle tilts his head back upright and looks at you with shock. You glimmer a grin, knowing he wasn’t expecting you to agree so soon.

“Bold for someone who was just complaining about having a lack of experience,” he teases and you scowl. 

"Ever heard of quality over quantity?" You mimic him.

Then, you're tilting his head and leaning into the crook of his neck. You start off gently, easing in very calm and slow. His lips gently part at the plush feeling of your lips. You’re taking your time with it — and it’s killing him. You don’t suck or bite just yet, only gently kissing him in very calming spots. 

You begin to pick up speed starting to suck but keeping a gradual build. You moan into his skin causing vibrations to ripple through him making him grunt. When you pop off and look at the red mark starting to bruise on the side of his neck, you smile. You look down to see his cock straining against his jeans — and that does wonders for your ego. 

“Don’t get too smug-” he pulls your hips closer to him. “It’s my turn now.” 

Your stomach starts to turn in your nerves as you straighten your back so you’re closer to his head level. Your chest gently rises up and down as his hands start gripping your thighs. He’s so close you notice just how good he smells. 

You felt a brief exhale from him, humid air gliding down the arch of your neck. You gently shallow out your breathing, and that’s when he leans in to make contact with you.

You force your eyes to stay open, wanting to bask in the feeling of his warm contact on your sensitive skin. Your boyfriend was also one cocky motherfucker, so you refuse to let a sound slip from your mouth or allow your eyes to shutter in ecstasy. 

His first initial touch is wet and warm. And when he starts moving, he begins slowly with very tender kisses. He does that thing you love when he moves up closer to your ear knowing that’s the spot that gives you the most pleasure. 

You know this isn’t a fair battlefield. Chenle knows all the right things to do that have you squirming and writhing underneath him — and God did he know it. You’d never given him a hickey before, so you were already at a disadvantage. 

His kisses keep getting heavier, parting his lips with a subtle suck between his teeth, sending sharp shocks through your body. He notices you jolt and starts soothing the skin with a lapse of his tongue after.

Then he starts integrating suction, right below your ear. He sucks with a roughness he knew  you enjoyed, breathing heavily in an almost pant. You couldn't help but allow your eyes to feather shut against your will. You bite the inside of your cheek, refusing to make a sound and feed his already large ego. 

His hand grasps your side, gripping you firmly right below your rib cage. The touch applies heat to your stomach, the pleasure of his fingers digging into your sides. He sucks on different places until he’s back up to lace under your ear. You bite your cheek harder as his hands start gripping your bare thighs more aggressively.

Those hands start creeping further up your skirt until his left-hand rests above your panties. He takes your earlobe between his teeth, and at the same time, his hot breath huffed right into your ear. You uncontrollably shiver and tilt your head back a bit, making him smile against you sadistically.

"Aren’t you fidgety?" He whispers, as his hands start teasing the material. He loved to gravel a choppy exhale against your ear, knowing the sound and feeling always made you shiver.

“Because you’re not playing fair, Chenle,” you grip his hand, stopping him. 

He knows he’s not — but he doesn’t care. The only thing he cares about right now is winning and hoping you swallow your words. 

“Really?” He asks, “I don’t remember us having any rules.” 

His face is flush flat right against your cheek, his deep breath exhales on your skin as he loves every minute of you squirming. 

“W-We didn’t, but this is c-cheating,” you finally let out a whimper and want to curse yourself after trying so hard to fight it. 

“What’s cheating?” He asks innocently, his hand moving back to the wet material between your legs. 

“This,” you grab hold of his wrist, but you're not strong enough to stop the way he teases your waistband and glides his rough digit above your pubic bone. 

“What’s ‘this’?” 

“You’re not allowed to touch me like this. It’s cheating!” 

Chenle laughs but doesn't remove his hand. And deep down you didn’t want him to — despite your protests. Instead, he greedily makes you take your own hand, which was white-knuckling your other thigh, so he could have full access to spread your legs open. Your chest was rising now, eyes looking down at the large ring-covered hand brushing between your thighs. Chenle’s eyes flicker with lust, and you’re certain yours do too. 

He curls his lips into your neck, satisfied. The gentle noise of euphoria he had gotten out of you was enough to fuel his fire, because from there he started going harder. He continues grunting against your ear, lacing down just below it to leave what you assume to be violent marks. 

His large hand curls into your underwear rather than just sitting on top of it. You cussed under your breath, stomach jumping. 

He doesn’t touch you, leaving his hand to just linger before your folds. It causes a burning heat between your legs so much that you couldn’t help but shift in your seat. Your body was screaming to be touched at this point.

"Are you sure you want to consider this cheating?" Chenle coaxes in your now sensitive ear. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules now, would I?” 

You know he’s lying. He’s never given a fuck about rules. Ever. 

You shake your head, trying to shift and cause any kind of friction you could get, but Chenle snaps his hand from out of your panties. 

You’re so overwhelmed at this point but in the best way possible. His lips continue to massage your neck in rough-tempered ways, his hand only rubbing the skin of your thigh but they’re almost quivering.

“Please Chenle,” you whine. 

The game had completely left your mind by now. His hand eventually moves to your core, and he cups you over your panties. You uncontrollably let out a struggled moan, being too turned on to handle anything right now. He delicately grazes his fingers up and down your covered pussy. 

"Still think I’m bad at this?” He talks into your neck.

"I-I never—”

Chenle’s fingers suddenly — but finally — slip into your underwear, making you gasp when you feel him graze your naked folds. Your body flexes in startle, but even the lightest touch from him felt so good.

"You’re wet.." He whispers, pulling his hand back out.

You hated the way he kept doing that. 

You pull your head away from his lips, making him lock eyes with you. When he did, his face dropped a bit when he picked up your lustful expression. His eyes flick to your chest, rising up and down. 

His hand stills on your thigh, "Still think you’re better at this than me?”

Fuck no. 

You shake your head violently making him grin. There’s more amusement in his eyes than you would have liked but right now you don’t care — you just needed him. 

He takes the fingers that have toyed with you and taps them against the wet spot on your neck. He coos, rubbing over the stinging skin.

"Think this should be enough to keep him away from you.”

You bite your lip and nod. You can’t see the damage just yet — but the way he’s just been ravaging your neck — you're sure he’s done a number on you. 

Your chest is still rising up and down. Core aching and body screaming at you to beg for him. 

"Say it, baby," He tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "Say I won, and I’ll touch you…”

You don’t waste a second more, your body on fire with need. 

“Of course, you won, Chenle! Now hurry up and fuck me!”

[writer-freak]

Period Care | Lads men x gn reader

Characters: Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel

Warnings: Gn reader ,mentions of reader having mood swings,period cramps, english isn't my first language, haven't fully played the game yet so these maybe aren't 100% accurate

A/n: I wrote the Zayne headcanons for my bestie and I ended up deciding to also write for the others. I actually planned on writing a Valentine's fic but I haven't finished it because I was busy preparing for my Valentines date.

Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated and really motivate me to write more <3

Zayne:

Zayne as the dedicated partner that he is has a period tracker for you on his phone. He uses it so that he can be one step ahead, ready for when your period comes around just to ensure that he is fully prepared.

He is like a walking pharmacy, he always has your favorite relaxing tees and painkillers on hand. In general, he has a period product stash, just in case you have forgotten to restock or were caught off guard. Just in case he has a secret supply tucked away.

He is a doctor so obviously he is offering some medical insight. He will probably explain to you the medical technicality with periods and all that kind of stuff. Would be the first one to tell you to see a doctor if you have bad cramps. 

He would probably also recommend some gentle Yoga stretches that are supposed to help with cramps

He has some hidden sense for your emotional needs. Somehow he always perfectly knows when to help you out and when to give you some space while on your period.

But of course, while he is a doctor and gives you a lot of practical solutions, he will also give you lots of physical affection if you need it.

He'll wraps you up in his arms holding you close and giving you all the kisses that you want. He might be a bit exhausted from his demanding job but Zayne is dedicated to being there for you.

Even if he's barely able to keep his eyes open he'll stay by your side offering you comfort and support.

Okay, now imagine this.

It's early in the morning and you are curled up in bed battling with cramps straight from hell. Before Zayne heads off to his shift in the hospital he slips into the kitchen makes you a hot water bottle and gathers everything that you could need. He brings them to you and gives you a kiss on your forehead telling you that he will come back as soon as he can.

Zayne will do whatever you need and will be especially good at giving you practical advice. And even if you ignore his advice his explanation will at least put you to sleep.

Xavier:

Xavier is the epitome of patience and care, he is your dedicated partner during your period.

 He's not just there, he is really present offering you a comforting presence. 

There is just something about Xavier that makes you feel safe almost like sinking into a warm hug. He really is a master at cuddling, wrapping you up in his arms, and napping alongside you.

Xavier tends to be a bit forgetful about the timing of your period. But when it's actually there he is by your side, doing whatever it takes to make you feel better.

Oh did I mention that voice of his? It's just so calming. 

If you need a distraction from some cramps Xavier's soothing voice and words will ease your mind lulling you into a peaceful sleep. And when you wake up you'll find him right beside you, probably also asleep. 

He in general just relishes in keeping you close and caring for you during this time. Even if he doesn't fully understand your mood swings he remains calm and understanding trying to support you in every way he can.

Also, any medication you need he is gonna immediately get, if he doesn't already have it, and whatever your craving he is gonna bring to you. 

I think he would maybe like to pet your head or play a bit with your hair to help you relax if you are fine with it.

And I can't forget to mention his hands, if you ask him to put his hands on your tummy to help with your cramps he will do so immediately. And in general, he would give you back or tummy rubs if you ask him for them.

Xavier just wants to do whatever you need during that time and is a very caring and dedicated partner.

Rafayel:

Rafayel tends to only realize that you have your period when you are more on edge than usual. He isn't really thrilled about you being in a bad mood but he rolls with it, kinda finds amusement in your crankiness, and uses it as an opportunity to playfully tease you.

With teasing, he will especially do this if you are being extra clingy, but he also uses your clinginess as an excuse to be extra close to you.

He'll wrap you up in his arms and always refuses to let you go until you feel better, he loves the extra cuddle time.

While on your period he would use darker bedsheets to help avoid staining.

He isn't exactly an expert about periods but he always stocks up whatever you're currently craving or your general favorite snack just in case.

If you need painkillers he's on it, he wants to make sure that you have everything you need to help ease your discomfort.

He can't really stand seeing you in pain so he will try and shower you with extra affection, peppering you with kisses and gentle touches, claiming that it's just for your relaxation.

Playful banter is kind of his love language. Beneath that, he really just wants to make you feel better but it includes a little bit of teasing and complaining from his side.

I imagine him preparing you a nice bath if you want to, bringing you into the bathroom, and telling you that you should relax. If you ask him to join you he would probably tease you about how you just can't be without him.

But actually, he just waited for you to ask, so he happily joins you while relaxing in the tub.

And if you thank him for helping you so much during your period you could see him getting a little embarrassed, his ears turning a faint shade of pink.

Rafayel all in all is just really affectionate and loves using your period to soak in extra attention and affection from you.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

[folkloresthings]

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track two: wendy.

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

. . . SEPTEMBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. september twenty—seventh.

liked by niallhoran, lizzymcalpine and 761,320 others

yourusername first song from the good witch! i wrote wendy after a day huddled under my duvet rewatching every adaptation of peter pan that exists. it’s all about falling for lost boys and trying your best to see the best in them even though your heart tells you better. it’s about not making sacrifices even though you want to, learning to put yourself first despite how much love might blind you to do the opposite. what about wendy!

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user STOP these songs are going to tear lando apart i just know it

charlottesiine wendy darling 🤍 lock the windows!!!!

user is lando her lost boy 😭😭😭

REWIND… AUGUST 2022.

for just under three years, heaven was all you knew. lando was a dream, all wrapped up in his love for you and forever devoted to your attentions. maybe the effect of being locked up together for months as the pandemic reigned had given you both a taste of stockholm syndrome and left you with nothing else to focus on. or maybe it was just time.

the beginning of summer break was when you felt the first shift. every other year, lando whisked you away on a holiday to the sunniest place he could find. he wined and dined you, making up for all of the lost time between the racing season and touring. only, this time, he had booked a trip to ibiza with max and his friends.

“what about me?”

“i don’t see them that often either, you know that,” he defended.

it was understandable, you supposed. he liked those kinds of places, you didn’t. so while he partied there, you spent a little extra time in the studio. but then it was a week in spain with carlos, another in croatia with daniel. the compromise came in the form of monaco. you would take some time off, leaving your london flat behind, and come stay with lando in his monte carlo apartment.

you were all excitement, until you realised your time there was scheduled around lando’s meetings and dj sets and boys night out. the desperation to be close to him trumped all else and so you followed him around like a lost puppy, forever blinded by the sweet kisses and doting promises.

“i’ll take you to dinner tomorrow night, just me and you,” lando would murmur in your ear, letting your frustration subside long enough to let him go back to his friends.

it took that whole month in monaco to realise that this is what lando wanted: someone to follow after him and live for the short term magic, only to be let down by the endless maybe’s, trusting that he’ll catch you when you fall. it terrified you, and yet your undying love kept you playing along.

“i have a show in brixton next week,” you told him on your last morning in monaco, shoving the last of your clothes into your case. “it’s low-key, for some of the really devoted fans. i got management to put your name on the list.”

lando zipped up the last of your belongings, soft thumbs caressing your cheeks. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you grinned happily, uncaring for whatever doubt sank in your stomach when it was just the two of you, his lips soothing on your warm skin. he loved you, truly.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—first.

liked by nicolacoughlan, hozier and 780,629 more

y/nupdates y/n in brixton tonight! 21/8 🤍

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user the intimate shows w her are my fav 🥺🥺🥺

user mother!

user was lando there? i heard she gave him a shoutout

⤷ user she sang feels like this and dedicated it to him!

⤷ user yeah but it seemed like she was looking out for him in the back when she said it and it didn’t look like he was there ☹️

⤷ user ouch 🥲

“are you alright?”

it’s the first thing you ask when he answers the phone, and you know it’s horrible that you hope something bad has happened — but it’s better than the truth that weighs heavy on his lips.

“i’m so sorry love, i meant to call you earlier,” lando groans through your speaker, your dressing room door clicking closed behind you. still in your stage outfit, you await the excuses. “the flight was delayed and then cancelled. i would get the next flight but i’ve got that thing tomorrow evening.”

“oh, i see.” your eyes sting.. “are you back in the apartment now?”

“huh? oh yeah, i just got an uber back from the airport and i’m ordering some food now.”

if you had the energy to scoff and argue you would, for you can hear the distant bouncing of club music on the other end of the phone, most likely muffled by where lando has hidden away in the bathroom.

“that’s nice,” you whisper, picking anxiously at the skin around your nailbed. “well, the show went really well. i think that—”

“babe, you’re breaking up. i’ll call you tomorrow okay?” lando’s voice raises as the bathroom door on his side opens to let the loud music peek in. “i’m sorry again.”

“okay, bye,” you sigh, but the call ends before he can even hear it. sinking into the small sofa of the dressing room, curling into yourself, the tears flow over your perfect makeup — fading the lipstick you’d chosen just for him.

you couldn’t live like this, is what your friends told you when you spent your evening crying on their sofa. but you loved him, and you would follow him to the ends of the earth. you could be married soon, waiting up at night for the sound of the door unlatching. it’s a life you could have and you knew it — even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—second.

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 722,784 others

yourusername a week in neverland

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user boyfriend lando pics!!!

carlossainz55 so great to see you!👸

⤷ yourusername time for you to come to london now!!!!

⤷ carlossainz55 ✈️🏃🏻💨

user ofc lando brings her to the track even on summer break 🙄😅

landonorris my wendy darling ❤️

⤷ user does this make lando peter pan?

⤷ yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user still sad we didn’t see lando at the london show :(

writers note: did i promise this new chapter ages ago? yes but just be happy you guys have it now 🫶❤️‍🔥

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

[five-rivers]

Art Nouveau Chapter 1

@scarletsaphire

Set in my 'Painting in Different Colors' series!

Danny and Frostbite had just finished their spar and were walking back to the main hall to have some frozen chocolate (much better than hot chocolate) when a group of yetis waved them over.  They looked like they'd been arguing with each other, but they didn't seem angry, just frustrated with each other.  

“What is it, Driftice?” asked Frostbite.  

Danny trailed after him, feeling a little awkward.  Was this something he should be overhearing?  Or was it some intra-tribe thing he should bow out of?  

“Flashfreeze thought there might be a color shift spinward of us, near the false horizon.”  He gestured towards that edge of the island.  

“I am not the only one who thinks there has been a change.”

Frostbite looked in the direction Driftice had indicated.  “What kind of color shift?”

“Purple, I think,” said Flashfreeze.  “Or blue, perhaps.”

“I see,” said Frostbite.  “Great One, do you detect any such change in color in that direction?  Your eyes are different from ours, and may see it more sharply.”

Danny, who had already been looking in that direction, shrugged.  “Maybe?  I think it might just be that there are a lot of doors over there, though.”

“We could get out the telescope,” said Frostbite.  

Some of the other yetis made faces of distaste at that, but Danny perked up, levitating slightly.  “You have a telescope?  What kind of telescope?  Can I see it?”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.  He shot a look over Danny’s head, which Danny chose to ignore.  “It’s a rather large one.  Quite impressive, if I do say so myself.  I think you would like it.”

Danny nodded.  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a telescope I didn’t like.  Unless it was, like, broken.  Or bad.  But you wouldn’t have a bad telescope, I’m sure.”

“Then we’re decided,” said Frostbite.  “We’ll see the telescope.”

“Yes!” shouted Danny, pumping his fist.  “Telescope!”

“It is this way,” said Frostbite, waving Danny towards the buildings and caves that made up the village proper.  “We keep it put away so it isn’t damaged.”

“Cool,” said Danny.  “So, is it a reflector or a refractor?”

“A refractor.  It is made of ice.”

“Of course,” said Danny, nodding.  “The lens and the tube and everything?”

“Yes,” said Frostbite.

“It must have really thick lenses, then, since ice has a lower refractive index than glass.”

Frostbite gave a great shrug.  “It is what it is.  We tend not to work with glass outside of medical settings, so the lenses seem to be the correct thickness to us.”

That made sense, overall, and for a short time, he just followed after Frostbite, glancing at the yetis behind him.  “What’s the big deal about the color being different, anyway?” he asked.  

“No one has spoken to you about the turning of the ages?” asked Frostbite, sounding surprised.  “Princess Dorathea?  Lord Clockwork?”

“Nope,” said Danny.  “Haven’t heard of that before at all.”

“One moment, Great One,” said Frostbite.  He called to the other nearby yetis, and started giving them instructions, directing them to one of the larger caves.  Together, they started the work of extracting the telescope.  

“Can I help?” asked Danny.  

“In this case, it is best to leave the work to those who know how to handle the telescope.  Now, where was I?”

“You mentioned the ‘turning of the ages?’”

“Yes, that’s right,” said Frostbite.  “Where to begin…  The Infinite Realms are made up of ectoplasm.  Ectoplasm is substantially different from normal matter.  So, the laws upon which it works are also different.”

“Sure,” said Danny.  The physics of ectoplasm was one of the things his parents studied.  He had a passing understanding of how it all worked.  

“Instead of, say, quantum spin, or quantum flavor, particles of ectoplasm might be better described in terms of color and character, qualities that go hand in hand.  On occasion, the character and color of the Realms shift.  The shift begins in one location, then spreads, until it has reached every corner of the Realms.”

“So… Ectoplasmic particles don’t have spin?”

“They do, to some degree, but that subject would require a great deal of additional explanation.  The important part is the change.”

“Right.  The change in color?”

“In color, but also in character.  In mood, or aesthetic, some might say.  Others might call it theme.”

“... I don’t get it,” admitted Danny. None of those things sounded very scientific to him.  

“Let me attempt to explain from a different angle,” said Frostbite.  “Every so often, the ambient ectoplasm of the Realms undergoes a change in color and character, which is called the turning of the age.  As the two are related, the color of the ectoplasm indicates to us the character of the coming age.  The character being how the Realms as a whole both look and behave.  The aesthetic, if you would.”

They followed the telescope up a nearby hill.  

“You are aware that different cultures had different views of the afterlife?  Some very similar, some very different?” 

Danny nodded.  

“Some of that is caused by natural portals during the relevant time periods leading to different Realms, but the larger differences can be ascribed to the portals leading to different ages.  For example, the popular conception of Hell was likely inspired by a red age.  During red ages, temperatures grow more extreme, islands crash together to form larger landmasses, ghosts take on a more monstrous, demonic mien and become more aggressive.”

“Wait, so this shift affects ghosts, too?”

“How could it not?  Like anything else, we change with our environment.  When the laws of nature change, we must adapt to them.  That being said, the internal ectoplasm of individual ghosts rarely changes color.  Yours will, in all likelihood, remain green.”

“Well, I guess I'm glad Flashfreeze thinks it's purple, then.  Red sounds kind of awful.”

“It might still become red,” said Frostbite.  “It is not at all uncommon for the color to change before the age has completely turned, or for an age to last only a very brief time.”

“So, turning into a demon is still on the table.”  As if he didn't already have enough trouble with his reputation back home.

Frostbite laughed, and patted his shoulder.  “Yes, but red ages have their good points, too.  They are exciting ages of alliances and camaraderie, and many a quiet injustice has been revealed and overturned in a red age.  But we ought to see if there even is a change in color before we speculate any more on the age to come, hm?”

“Okay,” said Danny, watching as the yetis heaved the immense telescope into position.  The white ice sides, taller than he was, twinkled in the light of the Zone.  

Flashfreeze looked through the eyepiece first.  They seemed to look for a long time, but then they stepped back and nodded, decisively.  “I was right,” they said.  “It isn't doors.  The ectoplasm over there is turning purple.”

.

“Okay, will you tell me what a purple age means now?” asked Danny, aggressively stirring his frozen chocolate with a spoon made of ice.  The telescope had been swarmed by yeti scientists immediately after Flashfreeze had made their pronouncement, and Danny hadn’t gotten a chance to look through it at all.  

“Yes, yes,” said Frostbite.  “Yes, but purple ages, or violet ages, are not nearly as easy to define or predict as some others.  They can be highly variable.”

“But they’ve got to have some common points.”

“That they do.  The principle commonality is rules.”

“I thought all of them shared rules.  All of the ages where the colors were the same, I mean.”

“Well, yes, but purple ages tend to apply more rules, and to a greater degree.  Rules similar to Frailties.”

Frailties were curses imparted by the five great rivers of the Ghost Zone.  The Styx, which bound one to promises, the Acheron, which defined uncrossable boundaries, physical and social, the Cocytus, which engendered weaknesses, the Lethe which granted forgetfulness, and the Phlegethon, which caused something like addiction, a dependence on a stimulus, most often blood or fire.  

“So, instead of demons, it’s more like vampires?”

Frostbite chuckled.  “I do not believe that has been the first guess of anyone I have ever explained this to.  Then again, I haven't explained it all that frequently.”

“Not vampires, then?”

“Vampires would not be out of the question, actually, what with their rules regarding thresholds, their diets, sunlight, and all the rest.  There was an age of vampires that was purple.  But most people think of fairies and the fae, not vampires.”

“We’re going to turn into… fairies.”

“Do not sound so skeptical.  There are a great variety of fairies, hence why purple ages are so unpredictable.”

“But fairies.”

“Or elves, or fae, or a variety of other subsets of such creatures.  Take unicorns, as an example.  While usually universally violent, when a purple age comes over the Realms, they become tamable by virgins.”

“That’s still weird,” said Danny.  

“The tendency towards rules extends to social structures as well.  That’s how it always is in these cases…  Last time we made all sorts of roles and positions and held all sorts of elections, competitions, what have you, in order to fulfill them.  Hierarchies.  Royalty and nobility are very popular in purple ages.  There is a great tendency to titles and epithets, as a depressingly common frailty is that of being bound by one’s true name.”

“Which river does that?”

“In most ages, it is a rare interaction between the Styx and the Acheron.  But in purple ages…”  Frostbite shrugged.  “Every age has something common to it that is rare elsewhere.  For example, cyan ages - that is the color between blue and green - tend to have a greater number of half humans.”

“Really?” asked Danny.  

“Truly,” said Frostbite.

“Do you think we’ll have one of those, soon?”

“Impossible to say.”

“What about red ages, what do they have?”

“Wars, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right for demons.”  He shook his head.  “What else should I look out for, in a purple age?  Or is it too unpredictable?” he added, remembering some of Frostbite's earlier comments.  

“Ah, well, beyond the emphasis on rules…  Any turning of the age comes with physical changes.  It may be quite some time before you see any, the change has only just begun, but it would be wise to keep your eye out.”

“Do you think that it'll affect my human form?” asked Danny, frowning over the brim of his cup.  

Frostbite frowned as well.  “It may.  There are unfortunately few studies on the matter.”

“You'll probably be seeing a lot of me, then.”

“A silver lining, no matter how the coming age unfolds.”

Danny looked away and drank his frozen chocolate to hide how hard he was blushing.  

.

“So, you’re going to shrink and grow wings?” asked Tucker, raising an eyebrow.  

“I mean, maybe,” said Danny.  “I could also become a vampire.  Or maybe a werewolf.  Those have a lot of rules, too.”

“And Tinkerbell-lookalikes aren’t the only kind of fairy,” said Sam.  “Elves, hobgoblins, and banshees are all kinds of fairy, too.”

Due to various construction noises at Fentonworks - apparently something about the change of age had tripped some detector or other, and Danny’s parents were very excited about it - Team Phantom had retreated to Jazz’s usual haunt.  The library.  Specifically, one particular reading room in the library.  It was very cozy, with the three of them, and verged on tight when Jazz was in there.  

Of course, as soon as Danny had thought that, Jazz returned with a teetering stack of books.  She dropped them on the table as soon as she shut the door.  

Tucker sneezed.  “Blegh.  Dust.  This is why hard drives are the superior form of data storage.”

“Books can’t be defeated by magnets or overheating,” pointed out Jazz.

“Sure they can.  It’s called fire.”

“Is… is this an RPG book?” asked Danny, tugging one of the books out of the pile.

Jazz blushed.  “It’s– Well, yeah, but it’s something people did research for.  It’s all based on actual folklore and modern takes on that folklore.  I thought it would be easier to digest.”

“Gimme,” said Tucker, reaching for it.  

Danny moved it out of his reach.  

“I’ve also got the Encyclopaedia of Fairies, Collected Celtic Folklore, and a bunch of fairytale collections, of course,” said Jazz, ignoring Tucker and Danny as they wrestled over the book.  “Do you want The Dark Side of Fairytales?”

“Yes, please,” said Sam.  “I think I’d lose it trying to work through the others.”

“I was thinking we could list common weaknesses,” said Jazz.  “Physical characteristics are probably too varied, but the list of what works against fairies should be a little bit easier.”

Tucker managed to get the book away from Danny - via treacherous use of Danny’s ticklish spot - and Danny decided not to push Jazz by using his ghost powers in the library.  Sulking, he took the encyclopedia.  That, at least, would be organized.

.

“I regret all my decisions,” said Danny.  

“Is there any weakness here that isn’t contradicted by something else?” asked Sam.  

“Iron, I think,” said Tucker.  “I haven’t found anything that contradicts iron.  Unless, you know, fairy knights wear steel armor.  That’d do it.”

“Well,” said Jazz, with forced cheer, “we can still take the most common ones and test them regularly, to make sure they don’t trip you up later, right, Danny?”

“I guess,” said Danny, eying an illustration of a troll.  “I hope I don’t wind up looking like that.”

“Don’t say that,” said Tucker.  “You’ll jinx yourself.”

Danny let both the book and his head fall to the table with a thump.  

.

“Have you noticed anything?” asked Jazz, a couple weeks later.  

“No,” said Danny, as he had every time.  “I haven’t even gotten into the bathroom yet.  Give me a break.”

“I just think that you should probably get checked up.  There could be internal changes.”

Danny, who had just endured an interminable week of sex ed in health class, groaned.  “Don’t say that, that’s gross.”

“It’s not gross, it’s just the way things are,” protested Jazz.  “I know you haven’t had a chance to go since Mom and Dad started in on… whatever… but I think you really should.  Your health is important.”

“Fine,” said Danny.  “But later, and only if I can get past Mom and Dad.”

“That’s all I’m asking,” said Jazz.  

Danny felt like she was asking a lot more than that, especially so early in the morning.  He liked the Far Frozen, but it was, as the name suggested, far away.  The commute would eat up his weekend.  

“You guys’ll have to patrol without me, you know that, right?”

“It’s fine,” said Jazz.  “I’ve been practicing, and it’s been quiet.”

It had been, too.  Danny mumbled something like agreement in response and slipped into the bathroom.  

The first thing he did was poke the various iron bits that he and his friends had scraped together, on the premise that no one knew what ‘cold iron’ really meant.  There was a horseshoe nail, a broken piece of wrought iron, some regular iron filings, steel screws of various types, a lump of iron ore, and, Danny’s favorite, a tiny iron meteorite in its own case.

(Danny had taken to carrying that last one around in his pocket during the day and putting it away at night.)

None of them had given Danny so much as a rash.  That done, he checked his ears.  They weren’t pointy.  Teeth.  They weren’t sharp.  Fingers.  Had the right number of joints.  Skin.  Still a pale pink.  Eyes.  Blue, with round pupils.  He ran through the same check as Phantom, although that one naturally had different results. 

Either way, he couldn’t find any changes.  He hadn’t even grown taller, as far as he could tell, which was too bad.  He was among the shortest in his grade, although luckily not the shortest.  That honor fell on Mikey. 

He sighed.  He almost would prefer the changes to just happen already.  But he knew better than to say anything like that out loud.  

He grabbed his toothbrush.  If he really was going to the Far Frozen today, he’d need to get ready.  

.

The Ghost Zone looked different.  

Not a lot different.  The sky was still mostly green, islands and doors still floated lazily about, and small ghosts flitted to and fro.  There was, however, a haze of sweet-smelling purple mist in the air, and the grass growing on the ground had taken on a more natural hue.  

There was also a change in the quality of light and temperature of the Zone.  Most of the time, the Zone felt timeless, as if it was stuck in an eternal, neon night at the bottom of a very deep cave.  But today, it felt a lot like stepping outside on an autumn morning.  Which, incidentally, was what it was back in Amity Park.  

It was weird.  Not bad, but… weird.  Definitely weird.  

He took off towards the Far Frozen, making note of other small changes as he went.  Doors and islands, at first glance largely unaffected, seemed to be clustered closer together.  Several of the trees he passed looked alive, rather than dead.  The wind, when it blew audibly, sounded musical.  

Yes, Danny was definitely leaning towards fairies rather than vampires.  

However, Danny was only about halfway to the Far Frozen when he came upon a lair that simply should not have been anywhere near there: Clockwork’s tower, Long Now.  

Once he recognized it, he hovered for a few minutes, trying to figure out why Clockwork would be here.  None of the reasons Danny could think of were very good.  He rarely put himself so directly on someone’s path unless it was important.  And, in Danny’s experience, important often meant calamitous.  

It was a lot less disturbing when he went looking for Clockwork.  

Nevertheless, Danny shook himself and flew to the tower.  If Clockwork needed him…  Well, it was important.  Reaching the Far Frozen could wait.  

He touched down outside the large double doors, which opened immediately, and went in.  The atrium of the tower was empty, however…

Danny crouched down to look at the floor.  The last time he was here - about a month ago - this floor had been plain stone.  Now, it was inlaid with graceful swooping patterns that reminded Danny of vines, or maybe visualizations of how planets moved.  They were still somewhat indistinct, half-formed, but they described a path.  After another moment of hesitation, Danny followed.  

The path traced a spiral through Long Now, leading Danny through rooms he didn’t know existed.  As Danny went, the purple haze got thicker and thicker, to the point where Danny could swear he tasted lilacs on his tongue.  Finally, though, it deposited him in a circular courtyard.  

There was a garden in the courtyard, and at the very center of it was a tree.  Both the garden and the tree were divided into quarters.  One, had plants and trees just starting to put up new growth, and young, early spring flowers.  Another was rich and bright with full foliage and the buzz of summer insects.  The third looked much like Amity Park did now, wreathed in the golds and oranges of fall, with fruit growing on branches.  The final one was wintery, cold, but still vital with winter-blooming flowers.  

The tree at the center was partially in all four quarters, and looked it, with one quarter of the tree in bloom, a quarter in full leaf, a quarter bearing fruit, and a quarter bare.  

It was a very Clockwork garden.  

What wasn’t like Clockwork, however, was the number of other guests.  

Frostbite was there, and given the other two, Danny flew over to him as quickly as he could without damaging any of Clockwork’s plants.  The others were Fright Knight and Undergrowth.  

Clockwork, meanwhile, had his back to them, looking up at the tree.  

“Doubtless, you are all wondering why I have summoned you here,” said Clockwork, turning away from the tree to face them.  To Danny’s surprise, he was sporting a pair of legs.  He eyed them with interest.  He’d never seen Clockwork with legs before.

“The thought had crossed my mind, meddler,” said Undergrowth.  

“Before it is fully set, an age can be manipulated,” said Clockwork, gliding across the ground with small, even steps.  “Influenced.  Changed.  Not at all easily, but I have put the first building blocks into place.”  He waved his hand through the air, purple swirling after it.  “I intend to do so in your favor.”

“For what purpose?” asked Frostbite, just a touch of a growl in his voice.  

“I am not sure you would believe me if I told you.”

“I would,” said Danny.  

Clockwork smiled.  “Mischief, mainly.  I have few enough chances to divest myself of some of the Observants’ control.  This, establishing a hierarchy that they are not party to, is one of them.”

“And what hierarchy would that be, Lord Clockwork?” asked Fright Knight, his voice almost as deep as Frostbite’s.  

“The seasonal courts,” said Clockwork, gesturing to the corners of his garden.  “Summer and Winter, Fall and Spring.  The wheel of the year, all things moving in order.  With this changing of the age, seasons will come to the Realms, as will night and day, and the phases of the moon.”

“And you’ll make yourself stronger by marking the passage of time,” said Undergrowth.  “I see how that helps you, but I have no interest in that.  How will it help us?”

“Seasonal courts must have their rulers,” said Clockwork.  “I think you would serve well as the King of Summer.  And, you, as Champion of Autumn.”  He turned slightly to Fright Knight, and as he did so, his hood fell back, revealing silvery white braided hair and pointed ears.  

Actually… Clockwork had stayed in one, young and relatively handsome, form this whole time.  If Danny looked closely, the other three ghosts around him also looked more… polished, maybe.  It’d take a lot of work to make Undergrowth look like anything but a plant monstrosity, but he had more flowers growing from his vines.  Frostbite’s fur looked shinier and sleeker.  Even Fright Knight seemed less tarnished and bloody.  

Danny raised his hand to his own ears.  They weren’t nearly as pointed as Clockwork’s, but the taper was detectable.  Had the concentration of purple ectoplasm here accelerated the change?  Or had it happened when Danny first came through the portal?

“As for Chief of the Winter Court, I do not think I would ever find anyone more suitable than you, Chief Frostbite, who have managed the Far Frozen well for these past centuries.  And, finally, for our Prince of Spring, one who embodies youth, change, and life.”

Clockwork had, without Danny realizing it, gotten close enough to touch Danny’s face.  He flinched back, surprised.  

“I have ice powers, though,” said Danny.  

“As there is snow in spring,” said Clockwork, unconcerned.  

“And… I’m not sure about the responsibility.”

“You could be a figurehead.  But the symbolism is necessary, to wrest control from the Observants.  Even now, they are attempting to force things onto a path more suitable for themselves.”

“I don’t know…”

Undergrowth scoffed.  “It hardly matters.  I accept your proposal.  It has been some time since I ruled, and it’s high time I do so again.”

Clockwork nodded.  “Then stand in summer, King Undergrowth.”

“I will take on this task as well,” said Fright Knight.  He walked to the autumn section of the garden and drew his sword, setting the tip in the soil.  

“You’re doing this much, just to annoy the Observants?” asked Frostbite.  

Clockwork tilted his head to one side, regarding both Danny and Frostbite.  “There are some other forces at play as well, admittedly.  Rest assured, this path leads to the greatest good.  I cannot reveal more than that.”

“Then I accept,” said Frostbite.  “But be warned: if I should discover treachery at the end of this path, it will not go well for you.”

Well, Danny could hardly say no after all of that.  He still had to check.  “So, the greatest good?”

“That is correct.”

“And saying no, that wouldn’t lead to something on the level of, you know.  Dan.”

“Not on his level, no.  Not for you.”

Danny squinted at Clockwork.  He had to wonder if that careful phrasing was a way to get around a restriction on lying.  

But Clockwork had helped Danny, more than once.  Even if Clockwork wasn’t being entirely honest, Danny should at least return the favor.  

He scuffed his feet against the garden path, then looked up.  “What do I need to do?”

[straylightdream]

what am I missing?

act thirteen: “You’re my everything.”

feat: bang chan x f.reader, seo changbin x f.reader, han jisung x f.reader

↳ in your mid to late twenties you’re left wondering if you missed your sexual awakening. With a the help of friends you start to really find yourself.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole angst, a little fluff, body image issues, and self doubt, cussing all smut warnings listed below for what is in this story.

series masterlist

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐚𝐧: please let me know your predictions for what is going to happen.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: for the story as a whole, oral (fem & male receiving), piv, unprotected sex, groping, threesome, use or traffic light system, choking, and spanking, the mc calls herself a slut more warning to come. Soft but dominant jisung, kinda sub reader for jisung. Being tied up during sex, anal play, use of a butt plug, names such as baby, princess and good girl

Work was long and you were relieved when Changbin asked you to join him and the boys for pizza and beer at his house. You had been picking up more shifts than normal since you were trying to save some money. You showed up before Jisung arrived. Chan was taking a shower after coming over after working out.

Standing in the kitchen with Changbin you listen as he’s telling you about a song he’s been working on. There is something about Changbin when he’s passionate about something that you find so attractive. He absolutely loves making music and loves talking about it. You could listen to him talk about it for hours.

“It’s been awhile since the three of us hung out,” he says changing the subject.

“I know things have been different recently.” You can’t help but wonder if your sexual activities with the boys are ruining things. Things have definitely been different because of it.

“It’s not a bad thing that things are different,” he says.

“I’m trying not to overthink things,” you keep telling yourself you can’t get in your head right now. You start to overthink things you feel like you might mess everything up.

“Before the boys come in here I wanted to ask if I could see you again, just the two of us.”

“Of course you can. We haven’t really gotten too much alone time.”

“I know work has been pretty crazy and I’m trying to let you see the other boys. I’m trying not to get jealous of them getting time with you.” You had no idea Changbin was trying not to be jealous about you seeing the boys. You thought he was completely fine about everything being casual. “Let’s plan a date night soon.”

Before you can say anything else Chan walks into the kitchen dressed in a pair of sweatpants a black hoodie. Without saying a word he pulls you into a big hug. There is something about the way he’s always hugged you that has made you feel safe. He gently kisses your forehead earning a smile from you.

“Hey you.”

“Hi, Chan.”

“So the pizza should be here soon, and Jisung is about five minutes away with a case of beer,” Changbin speaks up. You pull away from Chan looking over at Changbin. He just gives you a crooked smile.

Jisung arrives right before the pizza. You help Changbin step up the coffee table with plates, while the other two boys are opening bottles of beer.

Sitting down on the couch you aren’t expecting Chan and Changbin to move quickly to make sure they get to sit next to you. Changbin sits next to you first. He puts his hand on your thigh and squeezes it before shooting Chan a glance.

Jisung doesn’t move. He stands in front of the coffee table with a smile across his face as he watches everything unfold. Chan sits on the other side of you trying to act casual.

“I’m just gonna sit in this chair away from whatever that was,” he laughs before sitting down.

Jisung flips through Netflix as you all work on eating your pizza. The whole time you’re watching the anime Jisung put on it’s like Chan and Changbin are trying to make their presence known. Changbin’s hand never leaves your thigh. Occasionally he’ll rub your thigh and then every so often he’ll squeeze it. Chan on the hand gets comfortable and leans against you.

Throughout the whole night you can feel Jisung watching what is unfolding. The whole night both the boys stay close to you.

When exhaustion finally starts to hit you know it’s time to call and Uber to come get you. You help the boys clean up the living room before hugging Jisung goodbye.

“Did you want me to give you a ride home?” Chan asked, standing by the front door.

“Do you mind swinging by my place?” You planned on calling a ride to pick you up.

“Come on, I'll take you home.”

You walk over to Changbin who is watching you carefully. He pulls you into a tight hug. “Can I ask you out on a date?”

You pull away slightly while he’s still embracing, “yes.”

“Thursday night let’s go out to dinner.” He kisses the top of your head before pulling away.

“Okay.”

“You ready?” Chan says catching your attention.

Walking down the street to Chan’s car he walks close to you. You can’t help but feel like your night with Chan is far from over.

“So did you want to have a sleepover?” He asked, breaking the comfortable silence.

“At your place or mine?”

“We can go to your place.” The idea of another sleepover with Chan made you very happy. You love being able to fall asleep in his arms. Your place is a short drive from Changbin’s apartment. Chan parks his car and waits for you with his hand out. He wasted no time lacing his finger with your leading into the lobby of your apartment.

Walking into your place Chan comes inside locking the front door.

“You can make yourself at home. I need to shower.”

He raises his eyebrows and smiles, “can I join?”

“Didn’t you shower at Changbin’s?”

“Taking a solo shower is very different from showering with you.”

“Okay you can join.”

Waking into the bathroom you slide the shower door open and turn on the warm water. You strip away your clothes quickly. You look over at Chan who is doing the same. He’s left standing there on full display. His naked body is absolutely mouth watering. You can’t help but feel self conscious about how soft and squishy your body is compared to his.

“You’re so hot,” you can’t help but blush saying this to him.

Cutest smile spreads across his face as he eyes wander your bare body. “I think you’re hot too.” There is something about the way Chan looks at you that makes you feel confident. Right now standing in the bathroom naked with him you don’t feel like you need to hide your body or any part of yourself from him. He steps forward taking your face in both of his hands before he presses his lips to yours for a kiss. Pulling away he’s wearing that same smile, “we should get into the shower.”

Stepping into the warm water you can’t help but let out a sigh. Chan walks in closing the door behind him.

“Can I wash your hair?”’ He asked.

You've never had a man ask to wash your hair before. You simply nod your head before stepping fully under the warm water.

He pours your strawberry scented shampoos into your hair and gently massages your scalp. Turning around you let the warm water wash away your shampoo. It seems like Chan has every intention of keeping this shower innocent. You step away from the water and wash your body with sweet scented body wash. You watch Chan carefully as he closes his eyes letting the warm water cover him.

This feels so intimate without being sexual. He moves away from the water letting you step under the warm water.

Turning off the water Chan steps out of the water and hands you a fluffy towel. You both dry off before getting ready for bed. He gets dressed in only a pair of boxers, and you put on underwear and just an oversized shirt.

The moment your body hits the bed Chan pulls you towards him. Curling up close to him you rest your head on his chest. His hand slowly runs up and down your back. It doesn’t take long before you drift off to sleep. The last thing you hear is Chan whispering, “good night baby.”

-

Sleep doesn’t find Chan as easily as it does you. He continues to rub your back gently as he listens to your breathing slowly even letting him know you’ve fallen asleep.

There are so many things he wishes he could say to you but he knows he can’t. He hopes you’re asleep and don’t hear him as he says one of the things he’s been dying to say. “You’re my everything.”

Regarding my taglist: I’m tagging so many people like 300+ people and the the amount of reblogs and interactions I’m getting compared to my taglist make me quite sad. I kindly ask if you request to be tagged that you interact with my writing. It takes me a really long time to make sure I tag everyone. Im going to start removing silent readers and blank blogs to make tagging easier. If anyone wants to be added to this stories taglist I have decided to close it for now. I can’t add anymore people unfortunately. Im really asking for interaction if I’m spending the time to tag you.

Thank you to anyone who has been replaying to the post and reblogging them.