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shorlinesorrows · 13 days

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my jean & neil qpr agenda (part 1?)

after Neil orders the hit and Greyson becomes another Former Raven statistic for the media to go wild with, Jean ends up texting Neil. It's definitely not a thank you, but both of them know it kinda is (prob something like "you're an insufferable disease" lol)

They don't have contact for a while, but one day Neil reaches out by sending Jean the most atrocious multilingual French meme with "Kevin doesn't appreciate me or my humor, this is a hate crime"

It's sporadic from there, and maybe at one point they meet up while Neil and Andrew are on their summer road trip. Neil and Andrew end up in Colorado, and Jeremy, Cat, and Laila practically drag Jean there to see them (he'll deny that he had a good time, but he really did)

Andrew and Jean have a bizarre and interesting dynamic where they don't speak to each other often, but they eventually grow a mutual respect and shoot each other Looks about their "I'm Fine" partners. They don't mind just sitting in the same room and sharing space while they do their separate things.

When Jean and Jeremy start their pottery class, Jean takes to it like a fish to water.

He ends up majoring in Ceramics & Multimedia Art. Something about using his hands to create, rather than destroy.

He makes Neil a little exy racket charm for his keychain.

At one point, Jeremy makes a gc with Jean, Neil, Kevin, and Andrew on impulse. Jean "hates" it but doesn't leave the group chat. Andrew only stays in it because he can mute it, and it's useful for when they plan to meet up sometimes. It also makes Neil happy and it's not something he really minds

Jean also takes LOTS of pictures. With his phone, his friends' phones, a polaroid camera he gets as a gift from Cat, anything he can get his hands on. He hangs them up on his half of the room with Jeremy.

Eventually Jeremy and Jean do get separate rooms. They usually still sleep in the same room, but it's an important milestone for Jean and his recovery. Being able to have his own space, and know he's allowed to control who comes in it.

He decorates that room so much it's chaotic and beautiful and there's probably little pencil doodles on the wall next to his bed from when he can't sleep. He tends to draw daffodils :]

It becomes a bit of a tradition to meet Neil and Andrew every summer.

When they go pro, Jean and Neil end up on teams only a few hours' drive from each other. Neil and Andrew start on the same team, but the whole Minyard-Josten Rivalry is still a Thing because they're always shooting heated Russian at each other while "glaring" and no one else seems to realize it's their equivalent of flirting.

Jean thinks it's hilarious. He harasses Neil about it constantly.

Him and Kevin eventually mend their friendship, and they care about each other a lot.

Neil probably made the three of them matching "I survived Castle Evermore" shirts just to be a menace, and then Jean and Kevin have to make him swear that he'll never wear it in public.

Neil has a habit of just. Showing up at Jean's house and crashing sometimes.

Jeremy at one point jokes that he'll have to fight Neil for Jean's time in the future, but he's not really worried. They're happier when they spend time together. Jeremy and Andrew are chill with it.

When they meet up for the first time after a game between their pro teams, none of their teammates have any clue what's going on. Jean and Neil insult each other ferociously, but also can't seem to resist hip-checks and shoulder bumps and almost affectionate shoves.

Neil constantly sidles up to Jean and pretends like he doesn't know what he's doing. Jean usually responds by absently grabbing his hand so he knows where he is.

They are literally a cat and dog. Neil will deny that he's being caring or affectionate towards Jean all day long while actively attempting to be in Jean's space, and Jean practically perks up when Neil enters a room.

When their teams play against each other, they talk in French sometimes. Their checks are always a bit brutal (they know very well how far the other can be pushed before they break) but they help each other up at the end of quarters.

Jean is constantly antagonizing Neil by smiling and complimenting his striker skills while blocking him, and Neil is constantly taunting him with words that are plenty sharp, but never actually aimed for vital spots

Jean gets a service dog and Jeremy decides to name her Mr. Barkbark Flufferpants, following Andrew & Neil's naming scheme for their cats. They usually just call her "Mr."

When they make Court, the two of them practically live in each other's pockets.

Jeremy and Andrew watch both exasperatedly and amusedly (though Andrew just calls it annoyance when asked) as the two of them dance around their Big Queer Platonic Feelings

When they finally manage to actually communicate about it, it goes something like "Idk what's happening, I'm kinda obsessed with you but it is Not Romantic and I don't know what to do with that." And then "Oh thank hell, me too, I thought I was even weirder than I already am. Wanna go harrass the fbi together?" "No."

They become even more attached at the hip after that, can practically finish each other's sentences. It's like they freaking mind melded tbh.

At first Kevin gets worried that they're slipping into old habits from the Nest, especially Jean, but when he brings it up to Andrew and Jeremy, Andrew just goes "No, they're idiots." and Jeremy nods and says "I think they're in a honeymoon phase. If we see them slipping, we'll pull them out."

Kevin decides to wait and watch, and thankfully their relationship ends up being as healthy as Neil and Jean can be. There might be a little codependence going on, but they have other people and other grounding forces to help intervene if it seems to be unbalancing.

They both put each other on their emergency contacts list.

It's a common sight to find the two of them twisted into impossible positions together just doing their own things, Jean drawing, Neil watching reruns of Exy matches, whatever.

Their dynamic just becomes Jean, who genuinely grows up to be a pretty chill dude, and Neil, who's an absolute gremlin. Except they kinda absorb each other's personalities, so they're both little shits together. They fit.

There is definitely all sorts of weird conversations that they have at 2AM in little sleepovers they do together (sometimes with Kevin, Jeremy, or Andrew) because they never got that as kids.

I bet Neil mercilessly teases Jean for being allosexual, especially when he gets flustered (all in good fun, of course)

Jean just snarks back with a "shut up, I literally saw you look at Andrew like a besotted elderly man with his partner of fifty years like five minutes ago." Neil sticks out his tongue at him.

Jean actually can sometimes read the ways that Neil and Andrew show affection for each other because of how much time he spends around them, which leads to him occasionally getting confused when other people don't automatically Get It

Neil takes a while to warm up to Jeremy because he seems Too Nice, but once he does he helps Jeremy plan to absolutely torment Jean with silly little romantic gestures that make him flush all the way down to his neck

At one point Neil tries to get Jean to explain what it feels like to be sexually attracted to someone without knowing them really closely, and it leads to a really surprisingly deep conversation about attraction before it turns into neil making dick jokes.

Cat and Laila still keep in close contact with Jean, as well as Renee. They make sure to meet up as often as they can. Cat and Jean always go for a bike ride together and they all cook dinner as a group.

They're both cuddle monsters when in the right mood. They also have the convenient ability to fall asleep Anywhere when they feel safe. So finding them curled up together in weird places at home is pretty commonplace.

They're forever partners, not in the way that the world and the Nest tried to make them be, but in a way that they created themselves.

It doesn't have to be romantic to be special, and if anyone ever suggested that they should be in a romantic relationship, they would both look at that person with absolute judgement and disgust. This person interrupted their conversation. They were talking shit about someone. Neil is lounging in Jean's lap. Andrew is saying he hates them both, and Jeremy is cackling at it all while taking a low-res picture for Cat and Laila.

idk i have a Lot of thoughts and could keep going. (i might write a fic if anyone wants to read it, and I'll definitely write little snippets for myself if I get the time. )

#my qpr jean & neil agenda #all for the game #the sunshine court #aftg #neil josten #jean moreau #tsc #andrew minyard #thoughts #tsc spoilers #jeremy knox #KNAWING THE BARS OF MY ENCLOUSURE #listen they give me brainrot and I can't find the Exact dynamic i want on ao3 so i have to write about it #(also this is all written with absoutely no hate to the romantic jeaneil folks yall are doing amazing i'm so proud of you)#anyway also a cursory reminder that queerplatonic relationships are personal and vary from person to person!#They're very very cool and can look very different!#qpr concepts #qpr

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morganbritton132 · 11 months

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You said that you did not have tiktok, so you have likely not seen it but there is this series called roll for sandwich in which this guy makes a list if ingredients (like a list of types of bread that he has, vegetables, roughage, sauces, wild magic, etc) and each option has a number, so he rolls DnD dies and randomly makes sandwiches and rates them

Very popular, it has inspired a lot of spin-offs, people love it. He always starts with “Hello DnD tiktok and beyond, welcome to roll for sandwich a series were we let fate decide our lunch” it’s great.

My point is, Eddie would definitely do something like that but with one of his many hobbies and post it on TT.

I have not seen this, but I do love the concept. I do think I might’ve seen a spin-off though because my sister sent me a video of a girl using a d20 to decide which chore she was going to do next, and I can definitely see that one being used in the Harrington/Munson household.

Every summer begins with a deep clean.

Steve shampoos all the carpet. He pressure-washes their driveway. He declutters the entire top floors of their house. Eddie, if he is a smart man, cleans his studio.

Eddie is not always a smart man.

He gets distracted, or bored, or he just doesn’t want to do it, but this year, he’s determined. He makes a list of everything he needs to do and everything that he wants to do, and then he numbers it. He even starts a live-stream to give him more incentive to stay on task, and it works for a while.

He rolls the dice and gets a 4. He changes the burnt out lightbulb in the overhead light.

He rolls the dice and gets a 17. He dusts and reorganizes their record collection.

He rolls the dice, gets a 11. He paints the sword on his latest miniature.

He rolls the dice, gets a 9. He moves the couch to get the guitar picks that have fallen under it.

He rolls a 15, takes a break, gets distracted by a box of old tour memorabilia.

The chat is not helpful with getting him back on track because they are more interested in the stack of postcards that Eddie pulled out of the box. They need more than Eddie saying that Steve kept every postcard he sent him, especially when he looked at one of them and said, “Ha! In this one, I asked him to send me some dirty pictures. If I remember correctly, he did.”

An hour later, Eddie’s like, “Maybe I should get back to cleaning.”

He rolls again, scores a 20. Eddie looks at his list and reads, “Do something you want to do.”

He thinks about it for a second and then reaches under the couch and pulls out some ancient looking walkie-talkie, “Eddie to Stevie, do you copy?”

Eddie releases the button, waits a second, and then repeats himself. He does this a few times before he gets back, “What do you want, Eddie?”

“Wanna fuck?” Eddie asks. “Over.”

There’s a long pause and then Steve says over the line, “Did you vacuum?”

Eddie, who did not do that, says, “Yep.”

“Okay,” Steve says eventually. “Come up here.”

Eddie smiles brightly and tosses the walkie back down on the couch, before taking the stairs two at a time. The room descends in silence and then you hear static from the walkie followed by Dustin’s voice saying, “If you’re going to make a booty call, use your own frequency. Over.”

#Dustin texted Steve to let him know that Eddie was calling for him on the walkie and then got subjected to their phone sex #also Eddie did try to make soup once using the luck of the dice and it did not go well #Steve was sick and wanted chicken noodle but the soup was mostly onions #it was almost entirely onions and broth #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

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Ok I have a request.. what did Steve and reader do when they got back from camp? I always imagined he dropped her home but she turned up at his like an hour later and never went home because they couldn’t be apart. Bonus points for smut but I love your writing so much it will be brilliant whatever ❤️❤️

You’d been home for three hours — just.

Your bags still sat in the hallway, your shoes beside them and your call shirt still on, smelling like sunscreen and the forest. You’d walked into your home to be greeted with a plate of brownies on the kitchen counter, a note beside it from your mom, telling you she’d missed you and how she and your father couldn’t wait to see you when she came home from work.

It was the strangest feeling, standing in your family’s house and still feeling homesick. Maybe it was silence, the emptiness, maybe it was residual from six weeks at camp.

Maybe it was because Steve Harrington was only three streets over and it still felt too far.

You had six weeks with the boy, but only a few were you weren’t arguing, were you weren’t pretending you hated each other. It’d been four hours since you’d left him at the corner of fifth and Main, his car turning one way as you went the other, the taste of strawberry milkshake still sweet on your tongue and you’d both shared lunch at a diner out by Lowell, a feet touching under the table kinda first date.

He’d walked you to your car afterwards, both of you still grinning over the argument about who was paying. It was the first time you’d let him win, ‘cause he’d called you princess and it sounded so much nicer than it used to.

Softer, sweeter, sugar coated.

You’d waved at him in your rear view mirror before turning off for your street, smiled when Steve stuck his hand out his window and waved goodbye. And it was fine. You’d see him soon. Wouldn’t you?

It was new and it was different and sure, you’d had sex with him. You’d kissed him, been kissed by him, let him touch you all sweet and soft and god, he looked at you with so much fondness now it made your heart twinge.

But you were home and camp was over and the summer was coming to an end as well. Was that all it was? A summer fling? Something to do in the middle of the forest ‘cause the air was too hot and the arguing got too much?

You brushed brownie crumbs off of your mom’s worktops and frowned, heart rate picking up in a panic ‘cause you fucking missed Steve already and you weren’t sure if he’d go back to letting his grocery cart catch at your heel the next time you saw him in the store.

Pulling your shoes back on, you moved without thinking, on autopilot as anxiety took over. You could just go knock on his door, right? Ask him what this was, what would happen? What would change?

What has changed?

You stopped in the hall, afternoon sun streaming through the windows and making you feel too hot. It made the room glitter, sunbeams turning into rainbows that bounced across the floor and walls.

You felt queasy, your stomach weak, your throat thick.

But, before you could decide if you were leaving or not, someone rang the doorbell. It made you startle, heart racing even faster, loud enough you could hear it in your ears and it just about stopped altogether when you opened the door and saw who was standing there.

Steve.

He looked just as nervous as you, still in his staff shirt too, hair a little wild like he’d been pulling at it. He clutched his car keys in one hand, his car parked behind yours in the drive.

“Hi,” he choked out.

“Hi,” you croaked back.

You were both a mess with it. Too messy for people who’d seen each other naked, but there was no one else around to judge you both for that, not then.

“Uh, I— you, no. I mean,” Steve frowned, as if it weren’t his fault he couldn’t talk properly, as if he was terribly inconvenienced by the way his words got caught in his throat. “Fuck.”

You smiled, cheek leaning against the edge of the door, as if it could hide how pleased you were.

Steve tried again, cheeks pink. “It’s like— you know how… at camp? It was like that?” The boy was gazing at you, eyes wide and sincere. “But now we’re here and I’m like, wondering, if it’s still like that?”

There was a beat of silence as you tried to work out what he was trying to say, but despite only seconds passing, Steve seemed to grow too impatient and it was like he finally found the words.

“I miss you,” he said, one eye squinting against the sun, like he could shield himself from any rejection if he didn’t look at you directly. “Is that stupid? Is that like, so dumb?”

Your breath hitched with his declaration and when you stopped grinning, that cheek aching sort of smile, you shook your head. Steve grinned too.

“S’not dumb,” you told him, stepping out from behind the door. You wanted to take his hand, you wanted to throw yourself at him. You wanted to see if he still tasted like strawberries, if he kissed you the same here as he did in the middle of the forest. “I miss you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. But maybe we’re both dumb.”

The boy barked out a laugh, nodding. Maybe he was braver than you, ‘cause he moved forward, let his fingertips catch yours just so he could touch you. He was all caramel coloured eyes as he gazed down at you from underneath his lashes, that sticky sweet kinda look that made your stomach drop.

“Wanna do something?”

You leaned in, toes touching his. “Yeah? Like what?”

As if you’d turn any suggestion down.

Steve shrugged, hand leaving yours only to travel up your arm, his palm cupping your elbow, coaxing you both into each other's spaces. It felt nice, familiar and terrifying all at once.

“Anything. Could go for a walk, the arcade. Maybe catch a movie, just— I dunno, hang out.” Steve swallowed, another bout of nervousness catching at his chest. “I like hanging out with you.”

“You asking me on second date, Harrington?” You grinned, even though you were trying to be coy about it, as if your last date didn’t just end a matter of hours ago, as if you didn’t want to throw your arms around the boy and ask if you could keep him.

Steve’s smile matched yours, cheeks rosy from more than just a summer spent outside. “Yeah, if you’d like.”

Your fingers caught the hem of his shirt, a shy touch that made Steve lose his breath, ‘cause he could feel you against the skin of his stomach, a barely there brush as you plucked at the cotton.

“I’d like that,” you agreed.

…

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #Steve harrington blurb #camp blurb

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georgie-weasley · 1 year

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Shenanigans F.W. x Reader

Warnings: a few swear words, one mention of abducting, and I think that's it (let me know if I missed something)

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: You and Fred pair up to get George a partner and along the way you learn your feelings for Fred might not be just friendly

Masterlist

It was a rather peaceful Saturday morning. It was a nice November morning and the cool chill in the air mixing with the warmth in the castle only made it better. You were sitting by yourself at the table with a book in one hand and eating breakfast with the other. After breakfast you planned to do some more reading and if it warmed up enough, you might even read outside. All you wanted to do was relax.

“I’ve got a plan and I need your help.” As soon as the words came out of Fred’s mouth, you could sense the trouble that was bound to follow it. He squeezed his way into the spot next to you at the table. He had a wild gleam in his eye and a mischievous smirk on his face. This was gonna be a bad one but you were intrigued. Not to mention he completely threw out any plans to relax as soon as he showed up

“Do tell Fred.” You set down your fork and book and turned to face him. It was not uncommon for Fred to come to you with grand schemes. You, Fred, and George were connected at the hip since first year. People started to call you guys the triplets since there was never a time one of you was seen without the others. You spent summers and holidays with the Weasley family and you were thrilled to say that they all loved you. Molly and Arthur saw you as another daughter and they treated you as such. You got a sweater in your favorite color with your initial each Christmas, a birthday cake each year, and you were punished in the same way. If the twins were grounded for terrorizing poor Ron out of his mind, then you were too, if you were found guilty and you usually were.

“We need to get George a girlfriend.” He smiled brightly and threw an arm around your shoulder. “He’s been so sad about the breakup and the perfect thing for him would be a new relationship.” Fred wasn’t wrong about George being heartbroken but setting him up with someone because he’s hurt over a breakup? That’s dumb.

The three of you were 16 and sweet George was a romantic that wore his heart on his sleeve. He fell in love with anyone that looked him in the eyes or was remotely nice to him. Fred was a flirt but he kept real feelings away. He was more cautious and didn’t fall head over heels for just anyone. You, well there were a few people you found attractive but you never dated anyone. No one really stood out to you. George was the only one that had any sort of semi-serious relationship out of the three of you.

“How can you possibly think that this is the right way to help him move on? Your brother could sniff out a prank a mile away.” You rolled your eyes and moved his arm off of you. “Besides, George has an open heart. What if we find someone and it goes wrong and breaks his heart again? What will you do then?”

Fred only shrugged and stole some food off of your plate. “It’s not a prank, it's just… well I don’t know a different way to say it but it’s not a prank. We’re just trying to find him someone that will love him and won’t break his heart. Come on, I know you want to.”

He was right. George had been moping around for weeks and he hardly ate. He didn’t run around causing trouble and his smile never reached his eyes anymore. It was painful to see your best friend become a shell of who he usually was. While getting him a rebound didn’t seem like the best idea, you didn’t have a better one. “I’ll do it on one condition. We don’t force anyone to like him by paying them or anything.”

“Of course not. Even if I wanted to, I don't have nearly enough money to pay someone to deal with George.” Fred smiled and kissed the top of your head. “Finish breakfast and meet me at the lake. Our quest begins in an hour!” He ran off, weaving between the students making their way into the Great Hall.

An hour later, you bundled up and met Fred. It was freezing and even though you were wearing gloves and a thick coat and a scarf, you were certain you were only seconds away from turning into a nice ice sculpture. The freckled redhead waved as he caught sight of you. He was smiling and looked positively thrilled to be starting this plan with you. “Down to business,” Fred started as soon as you stood next to him. “First we need to find out if anyone likes him or if he’s anyone’s type. Then, we can start dropping hints and start finding ways to get them together. George will be happy and then at their wedding we can come forward and tell them all the hard work we did.” It sounded like a pretty solid plan but there wasn’t much to it. Usually Fred was more elaborate, almost too elaborate.

“So what are we supposed to do, just go around and ask people if they fancy George? He’s bound to hear and pick up on it.” You rubbed your shoulders and stepped closer to Fred for warmth. “Couldn’t we have talked about this somewhere inside? I think I’m gonna get frostbite if I’m out here for much longer.”

“No, you’re going to ask people if they fancy George. He’s less likely to suspect you if you ask. He might even think you like him.” Fred laughed and removed his scarf, wrapping it around your neck. “Do you fancy George? If you do then you can just date him and everything will be better.” He wiggled his eyebrows and leaned in, poking your side.

“Absolutely not. George is a brother to me.” It was the truth. Fred was eyeing you like he thought you were lying but he didn’t say anything. You loved George but he was just never someone you saw in a romantic light. He was sweet and kind but he was a little more subdued. He was calm and reminded you of a fireplace. He was warm and comforting and made you feel safe and at home. You preferred someone louder and more outgoing. Someone that was more of a bonfire, big and full of energy and unpredictable. Someone more like Fred.

“Fine, fine, if you say so. Maybe while you’re asking around you can talk George up too. Make him sound appealing.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, tucking you into his side. “Just not too appealing. If they think you like him, no one will go for it.” If Fred wasn’t providing an incredible amount of warmth, you’d have shoved him away.

“What exactly will you be doing then? Sitting around and looking pretty?”

Fred barked out a laugh and it warmed you from within. “While I am pretty fantastic at doing that, I’m gonna start working on George and get him to a more presentable emotional state.”

“You know,” you mumbled as you wrapped your arms around his middle, hiding your hands under his coat, “we can just let him work through his emotions at his own pace and help him in a way he wants us to.”

Fred nodded and sighed. “I know and it would probably be the better idea but I hate seeing him so sad. I just want him to be happy.” Your heart fluttered at his words. Fred was loud and always smiled but he had real emotions under his happy exterior. He wasn’t like George who could be read like a book. Fred was a secret diary kept under lock and key. It was nice to hear him openly show his love for his brother.

“We can start as soon as I let you go. I think I might have frozen myself to you.” Without a warning, Fred shifted and hooked one arm under your arms and the others behind your knees and lifted you up. With a squeal, you wrapped your arms around him and held on for dear life as he walked you back to the castle.

---

Over the next week, you tried to ask around about George but either no one liked him or no one was willing to admit they liked him. On more than one occasion, people mentioned Fred and you were surprised to feel the jealousy building in your chest. You were asking about George and they kept bringing up his twin. No wonder George felt like he was living in the shadows. That was the reason you were jealous.

Fred apparently had more luck as George was beginning to act more like himself as the days went on. He was smiling more and making jokes and it made everything worth it.

On Friday, almost a week after Fred approached you with his plan, you were walking to class after lunch. Fred caught up to you and grabbed your arm, pulling you to the side of the hallway. “Y/N, I wanted to ask how things have been.”

“Not great. No one likes him or they just aren’t telling me. I’ve tried asking anyone I think might like him and nothing. I’m sure someone likes him but I haven’t found them.” It broke your heart a little to think that no one out there found George handsome or wanted to date him. He was a total catch and he deserved someone good.

“Maybe we need a new approach.” Fred rubbed the back of his head and looked around the hallway. “What about we focus on people that are George’s type and see how they feel. Then we can narrow it down a little bit more. We can start with Angelina.”

“Angelina? From the Quidditch team? Why are we starting with her?”

“She’s smart, funny, athletic, and attractive. She’s perfect.” There was that jealousy again, burning in your chest. He really felt all those things for her?

“No way. She has very clearly expressed to me that she doesn't like you. Besides, she has a thing with some Ravenclaw boy. She doesn’t want you.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. What was so great about Angelina anyway? There were plenty of other people that were all that and more.

“This is about George, not me.” Fred smirked and grabbed your cheeks in his hand, squishing them together. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not. I just mixed you two up. Just give me a list of people to ask and I’ll find out. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get to class.” Jerking your head away from his grasp, you spun around. You didn’t even make it a step away from Fred when some first year came barreling at you, slamming into your side. You stumbled and closed your eyes, preparing for impact when strong arms grabbed you by the waist.

“Watch where you’re going you little gremlin!” Fred yelled after the first year. He steadied you on your feet, his hands resting on your hips as he looked you over for any bumps or bruises. Your eyes landed first on his arms. Has he always been this fit? Your eyes traveled up his arms until they landed on his face. His brown eyes were full of concern as they continued to trail over your body. Freckles decorated his whole face, most of them concentrated around his nose. He had one that was perfectly in the center of the tip of his nose and you found yourself wanting to kiss it. That’s a new feeling. So was catching yourself staring at his lips and finding yourself licking your own. God you would give anything to kiss him, just to see what it was like. As you looked back at his eyes, you jumped a little seeing how intently he was looking into yours. “Are you ok?” His mouth was moving and you were sure he was talking to you but he sounded like he was underwater or across the castle grounds.

The bell signaling the end of the passing period restarted your senses. You scrambled to adjust your bag and nodded. “I’m fine but I really gotta go. Get me that list later.” Without a goodbye, you ran off to class. Your heart was pounding in your chest and it wasn’t because of your run. That was all thanks to Fred. Your friendship with Fred has always been a close one and while this wasn’t the first time he’s saved you from your doom, this one felt weird. Maybe it was because you had been talking about relationships so much or maybe it was because you were 16 and had hormones. Either way, you didn’t like it one bit.

That night at dinner, Fred handed you a sheet of paper after George had left the Great Hall. There were ten names listed and you had talked to almost everyone listed. “These are all the people I know George has found attractive or would be his type. Do any of them look promising?” He sat next to you and you were disappointed that he left an appropriate amount of space between the two of you.

“Not really. I haven’t asked that sixth year Slytherin but I’m pretty sure they aren’t interested. Wait, why do you have Hermione on this list?” She was two years younger than the three of you and she was one of Ron’s best friends, even if he never said that.

“She’s pretty cute and she’s smart. I thought George would go for it. You don’t think so?” Ugh, he called another person attractive. He needed to shut up and keep his opinions to himself.

“Of course not. She’s too young. We graduate next year and then if they did date he would be heartbroken to leave her.” You rolled your eyes and continued scanning the list. “Minerva McGonagall? Fred, are you serious?”

He only shrugged and looked up at the head table where Professor McGonagall was eating dinner. “Maybe he’d like how stern she is.”

“I’m going to kill you. This list is useless. I think we should just give up and let him work through things at his own pace.” You tore up the paper; if anyone saw it they would be extremely confused and probably give it to McGonagall since Fred was dumb enough to really add her to the list.

“No, I have one more plan and if that doesn’t work, then I’ll leave it alone and let George take care of it.” Fred blushed a little and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked almost embarrassed at the thought of his other plan.

“What exactly is this other plan?”

---

The next day Fred stood in the hallway wearing his brother’s sweater. The ‘G’ on his chest clearly must have been his grand plan. “This is it? You’re just going to pretend to be George?”

Fred smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “I’m also going to flirt with people and try and see how they feel.” Everything was starting to feel more and more stupid as this went on. At this point, you wanted to just stop Fred and tell him to give it up but before you could, he was off talking to a group of sixth years.

You stood back and watched, your heart growing heavy as he laid on the charm. Fred was always a flirt and he knew how to make someone’s knees weak. It never bothered you until now. It was always common to see Fred flirting at least a little. It wasn’t always on purpose as sometimes he was just nice and it came off as flirty but he never cared.

“Hey, how are you guys?” Fred smiled and leaned against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you all. I would never forget such beautiful faces.”

A Hufflepuff girl giggled and blushed, tucking her hair behind her ear. A Ravenclaw boy looked like he was trying not to fall for it but the small smile on his face said it all. “We’re alright. I’m going to take a wild guess that the ‘G’ on your sweater means you’re George?” The Hufflepuff asked.

“That would be me. You’ve heard of me?”

“It’s hard not to hear about you or your brother.” The Ravenclaw shrugged and looked at a Ravenclaw girl that had been standing a little behind him. “What can we do for you George?”

Fred smirked and shrugged, moving closer. “I just saw all of you standing here and I felt myself drawn in.” The Hufflepuff giggled again and seeing how she seemed the most interested, Fred threw his arm around her shoulders. “What are a bunch of pretty people like yourselves doing on this fine day?”

The Hufflepuff, you think her name might have been Christine, glanced over at Fred. “Nothing really. I have a question, is this your real hair?” She reached up and ran her fingers through her hair.

That was a knife right to the heart. Tears started to well up in your eyes and your stomach dropped to your feet. You knew he was just pretending and all he wanted to do was help George but it was all too much. You turned around and sprinted down the hallway. Fred saw you out of the corner of his eye and called after you, ignoring the group to chase you.

You could hear him calling your name and begging you to stop but you couldn’t. How could you face him like this? Here you were breaking down all because he was flirting with some random kids. This was all so stupid. He was your best friend and that was it. He was your funny, stupid, handsome best friend that always got himself into trouble. He was loud and obnoxious and never knew when to quit but he was also so caring and protective and wonderful. He kept you safe and made you smile and made your heart flutter every time he smiled. His laugh warmed you from the inside and the sparkle in his eyes made your brain turn to mush. He was everything you ever wanted.

You were still running with no clue where you were headed when Fred finally caught up and grabbed your arm, effectively stopping your escape. Fred spoke up as soon as his breathing returned to normal. “Y/N, what happened? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You ran off crying and you’re trying to tell me nothing is wrong? Do you think I’m stupid? Tell me what’s wrong.” He took his hand off you and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Nothing happened Fred so just stop asking.” You turned away from him and rubbed your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop flowing. This was all so stupid.

Fred grabbed you by the shoulders and spun you to face him. “Please, tell me. I’m your best friend. What’s wrong?”

Best friend. He was your best friend and that was the problem. He made your stomach twist up in knots and your hands sweaty and your heart race and he was your best friend. It wasn’t like you could even lie to yourself and say you just had a thing for gingers; you never felt this way around George or Ron or any other Weasley, just Fred. You were in love with your best friend. This could ruin everything. Your breathing sped up and your hands started to shake. You had to get out of here.

“I’m done helping you Fred. I can’t do this anymore.” You slowly stepped back and tried to ignore your heart breaking as you looked at his face. Fred was frowning and he looked absolutely devastated by your words. He reached out for you and with great effort, you shook your head and took another step back. “Just, leave me alone.” With that, you ran away.

---

It was absolute torture to avoid Fred and George but you managed to do so for a couple days. George had done nothing wrong but you couldn’t risk anything. He could be helping Fred or he could be Fred. It was truly horrible to watch Fred try and get close to you. He would slip you notes in class and you threw them away immediately. He tried to catch you in the halls but you would push your way through crowds and lose him. He even tried to sit next to you at meals but everytime he did, you left. This was the best thing you could do. Now that you admitted your feelings toward Fred to yourself, there was no way things could go back to normal. You couldn’t pretend there were no feelings and while you couldn’t stand being away from him, this was the only thing preserving even a small part of your friendship. It was destroying a fair part of it but maybe this way you could still remain acquaintances and see the family. Losing Fred was horrible enough but the thought of losing the whole Weasley family, you couldn’t stand it.

After lunch on Sunday, you headed off to the owlery to send a letter home. You weren’t telling anyone about what was happening but you needed to inform your parents that you likely would not be spending the next break at the Burrow. Halfway there, a hand lunged out from behind a tree and grabbed you, pulling you over. Another hand covered your mouth. What was happening? Thinking fast, you bit the hand covering your mouth.

“Ow! Holy shit! What the hell Y/N?” You spun to see Fred waving his hand around, a bright red mark on his palm where you bit him. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you? You just tried to abduct me!” You smacked him in the chest and glared but it soon faded as you began laughing. Fred lightly pushed your shoulder and joined in the laughter. God it felt so nice to laugh with him again. After a moment, the laughter faded and your face was serious once more. “What do you want, Fred?”

He swallowed thickly and shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet. He chewed on his bottom lip, debating what to say. He was nervous. Fred always bit his lip when he was nervous. “I wanted to talk to you. It's been a couple days of you ignoring me. What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why are you taking it out on me?”

“Because it’s your fault.”

Fred’s mouth dropped open. “So I did nothing wrong but this is my fault? What kind of bullshit is that?”

You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “It’s not bullshit, ok? It’s just the truth.” You tried to take a step back, hoping to get out of this situation but you bumped into the tree.

He threw his hands in the air. “Then tell me what I did!”

“God Fred, don't you get it? I love you! I think I’ve been in love with you since I was 13 and it’s killing me because I just noticed it! I thought it was perfectly normal to think about how handsome your best friend is or how much you want to kiss them! I am madly in love with you and I was trying to save our friendship by putting some distance between us because I can't go on like this. I can’t look at you and want to kiss you and just pretend that I don’t. I can’t watch you flirt with other people and pretend like my heart isn’t being shattered every time. I can’t do it Fred. I can’t let my feelings for you ruin my friendship with you or George or Ron or Ginny or anyone else. I would rather have you not at all than watch you fall in love with someone else! I’m sorry I’ve ruined everything but I—”

Fred surged forward and grabbed your face in his hands as he slammed his lips to yours. You stood in complete shock before you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His lips moved against yours and you moved closer, pressing your body to his. Fred slid his hands to your hips and pushed you against the tree. You both parted for air but he didn’t go far; he kept his forehead pressed to yours. “You talk way too much.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t dare move. “You don’t hate me?”

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I was 12. Of course I don’t hate you.” Fred smiled and ran his thumb over your cheek. “What made you realize you like me?”

You blushed and groaned. “This is going to inflate your ego so much but when you were flirting with that Hufflepuff pretending to be George.” Fred only laughed and gave you a quick peck on the lips.

“You know, I must say I’m a little disappointed we never got George a girlfriend but I’m pretty happy with this outcome.”

“Just happy?”

“Would ecstatic be a better word?” Fred mumbled, leaning back in for another kiss.

“Sounds good to me,” you whispered as your lips met again.

#fred weasley imagine #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #hp fanfcition #hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 8 months

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Curtis and Honey Autumn This Or That 🍂

Week One: Dried Leaves or Lots of Candles

Summary- 1.2k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Curtis spoils you after a long day at school.

Warnings- Reader uses past coping mechanisms from when she was dating her ex.

THIS IS AN 18+ Only Blog

A/N- Happy Autumn Season! Thank you all for helping make this possible with all the shares and votes on the poll. If you enjoyed, please comment and give a share. Remember every Friday I will be posting a poll to help decide which fall-themed story gets posted next, a This or That. All the love!

Curtis and Honey This or That Masterlist

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet Masterlist

“I’m sure the store thought I was crazy.” Curtis muttered into the phone while Tanya on the other end scoffed.

“I’m sure your romantic gesture just wooed half the ladies in that store while you were purchasing every candle in the place.”

Curtis wrestled his door open while having the phone tucked in his shoulder, several bags in his hold were groaning at how heavy they were, threatening to burst if he didn’t hurry up getting them set down. “Maybe the guy who checked me out thought so? He also questioned if I was impressing someone or doing a satanic ritual. ” Curtis glanced around to see the house was empty, short of Binx who meowed at him from one of the kitchen stools, blinking at him lazily like Curtis was disturbing him. The black cat purred when Curtis set his multiple bags down to run a hand over his ear and gave a scritch along his jawline.

Tanya laughed hard into the phone. “What did you say?”

“Told him it wasn’t his business and handed him the cash. Let him wonder what the fuck I’m up to.” Curtis shut the door with a bump of his foot.

“Well yes, now everyone working at that store really will think you're crazy.”

“As if I care. Alright, I gotta go, Honey is gonna be here soon and I still need to clean up a bit.”

“Okay, she is going to love it Curtis, see you in the office Monday.”

“Yup, bye.” He hung up the phone quickly to slip it into his pocket. Upstairs he had a lot to do and not a lot of time to get it done.

The week seemed to never end and honestly, your nerves and tolerance for anything was at the end. The kids had been wild, and restless after their summer away. Getting them back on track with the nice weather outside and stuffy classroom inside was proving to be a challenge. Not to mention the constant reminders from the school board that they were underfunded, understaffed, and expected to give more with limited supplies. You had already dipped into your banking account to get what your room minimally deserved and to have to be told that you were expected to do better was like a physical jab.

You were just ready to tell all of them to fuck off.

But now it was the weekend, for a few hours at least you could unwind and maybe forget the school's issues. You had the newest Katee Roberts book on your kindle and you were sure that after Curtis’s week as well, the two of you weren’t going anywhere but the living room couch to decompress.

It was really all you could hope for and wanted at this point. Going up the steps, you started to mentally discuss with Curtis how a night in was all you could handle for today at least.

It was easier to expect every scenario with him, be prepared for anything, because people could be unpredictable. Jake taught you that early in the relationship. His reactions could be wildly out of control, often getting mad and upset when you didn’t want to go along with whatever he wanted to do.

Those times you would stand your ground with him, you had to be ready for kind of accusation thrown your way.

And old habits die hard still.

So now you were mentally thinking about Curtis getting angry at your suggestion, that he wanted to go out, hang with you and his friends, and how you would respond. The door swung open to a dim house. “Curtis?” You called out as you set your school bag on the floor to shrug out of your jacket.

He popped around the corner from the livingroom, his gaze swiftly going up and down you while you pulled your shoes off. “Hey Honey, how was your day? It sounded rough from your message this afternoon.” Reaching you, he grasped your coat from you to hang it up.

“Still long, didn’t really get any better. Um, did you want me to go out tonight with you?”

Curtis paused from hanging up your jacket, seeming to try to find how he wanted to answer your question. “I mean… Did you want to Honey? I was planning on staying home, I already called Paulie and told him I wasn’t tending the bar tonight.”

“Actually that's perfect for me too. I just want to stay here, crash on the couch and unwind. You know, forget this week in the laziest way possible.”

Curtis nodded as he listened, holding out his hand to you and when you took it, stepping into him, he hugged you loosely, his hands rubbing up and down your back. “I might have something that would work for you Honey.”

“I don’t know how it can be any better than crashing on the couch though?” You questioned with an arch of your brows and Curtis pressed a kiss to your forehead, tugging you with him.

“Come upstairs with me and I will show you?” He easily eased you towards the stairs, pausing to let you decide if you wanted to follow.

“I’m always up for your show and tells.” You continued up the stairs, catching his huff of a laugh at your lame school term. When you two reached the upper hallway and to the master bedroom, you caught sight of all the candles, glimmering to fill the dark bedroom in the softest of light. “Oh…” You sighed softly in appreciation at it all.

“Mmh, I thought maybe…” Curtis eased open the bathroom door to show even more glowing candles around the tub, your favorite bubbles and a glass of wine sitting on the sinks edge, a book resting on the closed toilet seat. “This would help you feel better after this past week.”

It was hard not to be moved by the gift he gave you, the offering of relaxation among hot bubble bath and flickering candles making an atmosphere that you just wanted to get lost in. “This is wonderful Curtis.” You turned in his hold to look up at him, pressing kisses to his jawline and hugging around him. “But that tub isn’t big enough for us both.” You frowned a bit, your forehead wrinkling at him having to miss out on enjoying this relaxation with you.

“Yeah, one day I plan on fixing that.” He rubbed at your back. “But how about you go ahead and soak, I can read to you?” He plucked up the book he brought in.

You really didn’t know how to react the gesture, immediately going to say he did enough already, he shook his head at you to silence you. “I’m offering Honey because I want to do this with you, not because I feel like I have to.”

All you could do was smile up at him. “I would really appreciate that.” You eased from his hold, breathing in a deep calming breath to let all your earlier worries start to drift away. Curtis let his hands slide down your sides to grasp your shirt. “Thank you for taking care of me Curtis, for loving me.”

“You make it easy to do Honey.” Was his response as you lifted your arms and he eased your shirt off you to land back into the bedroom beyond.

#curtis and honey autumn this or that #life is short so make it sweet #curtis and honey #curtis and you #curtis everett and you #curtis everett and plus!sized reader #curtis everett and reader #curtis everett x honey #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett x plus!sized reader #chris evans characters #amber writes #sweater writes #curtis everett au #snowpiercer au

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wheels-of-despair · 1 year

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@oneforthemunny's Summertime Writing Game The Title: Bad Apples The Eddie: Janitor!Eddie (and a lot of Oliver) The Prompt: 🃏 Wild Card The Summary, Since I Went Off-Script: Someone called your sweet little Oliver a "bad apple" so now you're gonna have to make a point. A sweet, delicious point. The Words: 2k Author's Note: Oliver's pretty quiet in this. It's his first summer with Teach and Janitor!Eddie, he's still getting used to them.

"Are our apples bad?"

You looked to Oliver and then to the bowl of fruit on the counter in confusion. You'd only just walked in; could he smell a rotten apple already? Has pollen season officially claimed your nose as a victim? You step closer and pick up an apple to inspect it.

"I mean, they might be a few days past their prime, but I don't think they're bad. Why do you ask?"

He shrugs. "I'm gonna go read," he mumbles and goes to his room, closing the door quietly. You pick up another apple and give it a sniff. Nothing. You turn over each apple in the bowl, looking for any sign of rot. Not even a bruise. What the heck?

And then the phone rings, and the art teacher ranting about the incompetent music teacher who better not come back next year makes you forget about the apple problem.

She keeps you occupied for the next hour with a conversation that couldn't be had on school grounds - even a nearly childless one, since you were just there today cleaning out your classrooms - and then you start fixing dinner. Oliver usually wanders in when he starts smelling food, but today, he stays put. A little odd, but maybe he's just tired. He'd spent most of the afternoon on the playground with other newly-freed kids who either belonged to fellow teachers, or been so conditioned to school that they'd gravitated toward it even now that summer had officially started. You decide not to bother him; he knows he can hang out with you whenever he feels like it.

When Eddie comes home, he greets you with a kiss and asks what's for dinner. You inform him of tonight's menu - one of his favorites, to celebrate the end of the school year - and his face lights up.

"Where's the little guy?" he asks, leaning back on the counter and crossing his arms, looking gorgeous doing it.

"In his room. He's quiet today."

"Any idea why?"

You shrug. "Go check, maybe you'll have better luck."

"Kay," he pushes off the counter, give you another peck, and goes to check on Oliver.

You hear a knock and then muffled voices. Can't escape the boys' club, even in your own house, you think as you clear the table.

You call when dinner is ready, and the boys enter the kitchen together. You notice that Oliver has changed his clothes at some point, but don't question it. He's a big boy, he can decide what he wears and when.

Oliver is still quiet during dinner. He'll speak when he's spoken to, but doesn't volunteer any information about his day or chime in like he usually does. You're growing more curious by the minute, but you don't get any answers until Oliver is safely tucked in.

"Alright, spill," you order, the second your bedroom door closes.

"Spill what?" Eddie asks.

"What's up with Oliver?"

Eddie heaves a sigh and comes to sit next to you on the bed.

"Somebody called him a bad apple."

"What." Not a question. You're seething already.

"Some kid on the playground asked another one if he smelled something funny, they went back and forth like a bad comedy routine, punchline was that there must be a bad apple around."

"Who was it?"

"He didn't say."

"Well those little brats better hope I don't find out." Eddie gives you an affectionate smile for your over-protectiveness.

"He's alright. He thought they meant he smelled bad."

You roll your eyes so intensely, your whole body flops back on the bed in frustration. Eddie joins you, less dramatically.

"I explained it to him… but I wish I didn't have to."

"What is wrong with these damn kids, Eddie?"

"They're being raised by the people who did the same shit to me."

You reach for his hand, fumbling for a moment before he realizes what you're doing and helps you out.

You stare at the ceiling and sigh together, breathing out all of today's frustrations.

"What are we going to do?" you ask, helplessly.

"Keep taking care of him. Hope he values our opinions more than theirs."

You turn your head toward him, and he turns his toward you. It's a comfort, knowing that Eddie understands exactly what Oliver's going through and how to take care of it, but it's also infuriating that this cycle never ends. Kids are doing the same shit now that their parents did twenty years ago, and probably their parents before them. What's the point of even trying to teach them better?

You eventually get up, dress for bed, and turn in for the night.

It's not until the next morning that you have a brainstorm.

Oliver wanders into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, when he smells the bacon and eggs. He smiles when you tell him good morning. That's a good sign, at least. You fix plates, Eddie pours drinks, and you have a nice breakfast together.

"What are you two gonna get into this morning?" Eddie asks.

"I thought we might drop by the grocery store, pick up some summer necessities and a few things for Steve's tomorrow."

Eddie's mission today is to help Steve assemble a pool. Not the fancy, heated, in-ground kind his parents had; but a modest above-ground pool just for the summer. It would probably take the rest of the night to fill; Team Munson had been invited to a soft open tomorrow, just a quiet get-together for the boys to pat themselves on the back for following instructions and sticking a hose in the four-foot pool.

After breakfast is eaten and the dishes are in the sink, Eddie takes off and Oliver goes to get dressed for today's shopping trip.

Oliver is a great shopping companion; he's great at pointing out sales you may have missed, and never tries to deviate from the list. (Eddie's a bit of an impulse shopper. Oliver is the list when he accompanies Eddie on an emergency grocery run.)

In the store, you grab a few staples that need replenishing, and then head for the produce section. You visit the discount rack, and find exactly what you're looking for. Thank you, Bradley's Big Buy. You lift a sack of apples with a fast-approaching sell-by date, and spin them around for a quick inspection.

"Aren't they bad?" Oliver whispers.

"They look fine to me," you answer, placing them in your cart. They're a little bruised, and probably mealy, but there's no obvious rot. You grab a few decent-looking lemons off the discount rack too.

You check out, carry your bags to the car, and talk about what you're gonna do this summer all the way home. When you get there, you hand Oliver one light bag and the keys, and he rushes ahead to open the door for you with your armful of groceries.

"Thank you, my good man," you say affectionately as you pass, heading straight for the counter and depositing your bags. Oliver closes the door and follows with his own, sliding it onto the counter. You pull out your bag of apples, and he side-eyes them.

"I thought we might have a pie tonight, what do you think?"

He shrugs.

"You want to wash these for me?" you ask hopefully. He shrugs again, and you smile at him. You open the bag of apples and take them to the sink, and Oliver follows. You turn the water on and demonstrate how to rinse them and then put them in the dish drainer, and Oliver pulls up his little step-stool picks it up in no time.

Oliver washes, and you begin peeling the clean apples by his side, dropping the peelings and the slices into two different bowls.

"You know, when I first met Eddie, he used to bring me an apple every day."

"He did?"

"Yup. Mr. Harrington told him that the saying is 'an apple a day keeps the doctor away', but he kept bringing them for the teacher anyway. I thought it was cute."

Oliver smiles and finishes washing the last apple, reaching forward to turn the sink off.

"You wanna help make the pies, or go play?"

"I'll help," he responds.

"I was hoping you'd say that," you wink. "Fetch me two of the glass pie plates from the bottom cabinet?"

Oliver hops off his stool and starts digging, emerging with a clink of glass and a triumphant "Aha!"

By the time he returns to your side with the pie plates, the apples are peeled and sliced and you're ready to unroll the pie crusts that have been sitting on the counter since you got home. You wipe off the glass with a dish towel and place them on the counter side by side.

"Some people think this is cheating," you explain, fitting the crust into the plate, "but I think it's one of the greatest modern inventions. You know in the old days, people spent hours measuring and mixing and blending and rolling just to make a mediocre pie crust? These taste great, they save us time, and thanks to someone's sharp eyes, we even saved $1!"

Oliver grins and watches you add sugar and spices to the bowl of apple slices. After everything is mixed and coated, with Oliver's help of course, you offer him a piece. He shakes his head, so you shrug and pop it in your own mouth. You'd been a little worried, but the apple tastes fine, and honestly… you could load just about anything with sugar and your boys would love it.

After the pies are assembled and in the oven, you and Oliver turn your discounted lemons into a pitcher of lemonade to take to Steve's. After a few taste tests and minor adjustments, you and your assistant determine that it's perfect, and you put it in the fridge to chill.

You play cards at the kitchen table until the oven timer dings. And then you pull out two gorgeous pies and set them on the counter to cool. Oliver inhales deeply from his place at the table, and you try to conceal a grin. You play another few hands while you wait for them to stop steaming, then decide to go for it.

"What do you think, should we sample it before Eddie gets home? Make sure it's okay?"

Oliver taps his chin as if he's thinking, and then grins.

"That's what I thought," you laugh, getting up to cut two test slices. You bring them back to the table, wondering when Oliver is going to bring up bad apples again. The intoxicating smell seems to have banished the thought from his mind, because he reaches for his fork and takes a bite as soon as you set the saucer down.

"Is it good?" you ask, before cutting into your own slice. Oliver nods enthusiastically as he chews.

"Still think the apples are bad?" His face falls, and he looks at the pie warily, remembering that it was made with subpar produce.

"You know, I think apples are a lot like people," you say gently, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. "Sometimes the ones that look pretty and shiny on the outside are rotten inside. And sometimes the ones that look a little different are the sweetest. Even the ones that are imperfect, or bruised, or have been banished to the discount rack at Bradley's Big Buy can surprise you... they just need a little love. And a lot of sugar." You go in for a second bite. "Oh yeah, nothin' wrong with these. Perfection. What do you think?"

Oliver stares at you for a moment, letting the speech you've been planning all morning sink in, and then a smile grows on his face. He nods and goes in for another bite. This kid is amazing.

About halfway through your pie, you hear a car door slam. A moment later, Eddie steps inside and inhales dramatically. "Is this Heaven? Is that where I am? Is that what this smell is?"

Oliver laughs and says, "we made pies!"

"You made pies?"

"Yup!" Oliver chirps.

"Apple pies?"

"Yup!" Oliver repeats.

"Multiple apple pies?"

"Yup!" you confirm, getting up to cut him a slice. "One for us, one to take to Steve's tomorrow."

"Yup. Heaven. This is Heaven."

"Come on, angel, have a slice," you place his pie on the table, and he looks at it with hunger… and then pulls you in for a kiss.

There's nothing bad about these apples.

#writings of despair #munnysummergame #janitor!eddie #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #...not a lot though #oliver munson #that's my boooy #who wants to guess what i was making when this one came to me #high five yourself if you caught that little rascals reference #and don't you come at me about my pre-made pie crusts #ain't nobody got time to be measuring flour like a pioneer

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jmdbjk · 10 months

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This week's ... Bangtan report...

Anyone feel the need to come up for air? Me too...

These two... just acting like they can go anywhere here in peace.

I can't believe they ate reheated grocery store deli pizza. At first I was like I CAN'T BELIEVE THEY ATE GAS STATION CONVENIENCE STORE PIZZA but then I learned it was a whole grocery store. On a scale of 1 to 10, grocery store deli pizza would be a 4.

I'm still speechless. The longer I think about it the more I can't believe what we've seen these past 4 days. After all this time of hoping they are living easily at home they come over here and turn the bucket over on us. Total chaos.

Aside from boat captains being dickwads (that Miss Karma wasted no time on that loser) and radio show hosts being embarrassing ignoramuses... the LUCKIEST regular people are experiencing encounters with JIMIN and JUNGKOOK in the WILD!!

We all know how excited we get just meeting other Armys in the wild but imagine being at work trying to get the soft serve ice cream machine working and you turn around and Jimin and Jungkook are standing there ready to order some greasy-ass pizza.

I'M SO HAPPY FOR THESE ARMYS WHO GOT TO EXPERIENCE THIS!

But we're still trying to decipher JK's similarities in his Seven concept styling. His hair that's reminiscent of Jimin's in his Face era... The both of them wearing a lot of similar things or even just their street clothes that are from the same designer... all of that making me ...

This trip that looks like all intents and purposes of being a weekend getaway... reserving a whole floor of the restaurant. AND TOGETHER ON SILVER DAY.... Going to a brewery. An outing on a boat. Basically roaming the back roads in New England. And JK headed to Old England.

But we might see it at some point in the future BECAUSE THEY HAD CAMERAS????

They spent all day Sunday .... doing what? Every hour, every minute, every second, you know night after night ...

Anyway...

Hobi's master plan is being revealed finally. At least that's what the twitter streets are saying. Those images were created last summer. He's had this in the works.

I love love love the two characters and the styling of this go-round of Jack in the Box.

I watched Namjoon's recent live and he said things like:

..."everyone is doing their thing and the team is being talked about" which he thinks is great... "let's each do well in our places and meet again looking good." All team members doing good.

He always looks great in his lives and now I'm convinced JK's got a potato phone with a crap camera because ALL of his lives are 360p no matter the lighting situation.

TMI warning...

Koo's got a little bit of an upper respiratory cold. It's no fun flying when your sinuses are inflamed. Give that boy some Dayquil/Nyquil. And YES I sympathy yawned with him! hahahahahahahaaa.

Watching this live... how can you be a straight up goofball doofus and also be the same JK dancing and singing "I'll be fuckin you right Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday..."?

I wonder if the slow jam version of Seven was a preview of what's forthcoming?

Jimin got a new phone. I think that's why he had trouble logging into In🌟 (so cute, in-sta). When you move your shit over to your new phone you have to re-login to all your apps.

So let me guess who's gonna turn up with the head cold in a few days? I hope Jimin doesn't have any important schedules coming up in the next week or so.

#jikook #jungkook seven #hobi #j hope #namjoon #bts chapter 2 #tae finally got that cartier ambassadorship #bangtan weekly report

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harley-sunday · 1 year

Text

August Rush [10]

Summary: You’ve known Carlos for almost as long as you have been working in Formula One but you never expected it would take you seven years and a concussion to realise that maybe you like him as more than just a friend.

Pairing: Carlos Sainz jr x reader (OFC nicknamed Pip) | Max Verstappen x reader (best friends)

Warnings: Language. Slightly NSFW.

Word count: 6.9k.

AN: This is it, babes. The final part of this wild ride we all went on almost a year ago. I’m gonna miss writing for these two but I think the story I wanted to tell got told and it’s time for them to have their happy ending. I couldn’t have done this without my Devious Friend™, my editor-in-chief, and my greatest support. eL, this one’s for you, babe ♥ And for all of you - I meant what I said last time, please feel free to come yell at me in the comments. I would love to hear what you think!

Masterlist

Despite the weather forecast predicting nothing but rain this race weekend, it’s actually quite nice when you make it to Spa on Wednesday and so you’re enjoying a walk through the paddock in your Alpha Tauri-issued team polo with your sunglasses on and an iced coffee in your hand. Something about the calm before the storm, you think idly.

Spa is- It’s hectic. It’s the first race after the summer break and so there’s always a lot to catch up on, the last remnants of silly season still echoing through the paddock and some of the announced driver changes for next year raising a few eyebrows here and there. Like you expected, the news that your team has chosen to focus on the development of next year’s car has been met with very few questions and so, except for a press conference that isn't scheduled until tomorrow morning, there isn’t much for you to do except catch up with the other press officers and a few of your driver friends.

First stop is the Red Bull garage, where you find Max joking around with some of his pit crew, comparing tans and exchanging stories about their summer holidays. His smile grows even wider when he spots you and he gives you a quick wave, motioning for you to come over, “Hello.”

You step into his outstretched arms without a moment’s thought, “God, I’ve missed you, Maxy.”

He hugs you closer, “How are you?”

“Good,” you tell him, before you let go and take a step back. “I just wanted to hear if we’re still on for dinner with your mom tonight?”

“She’s been talking about nothing else ever since she got here,” Max chuckles. “I think we’re staying in the same hotel, right?” He waits for you to nod before he continues, “Ok, so why don’t we meet in the lobby at seven and I’ll ask mum to meet us there? I think she wants to go to that restaurant we went to last year also.”

“With that housemade ‘Stoofvlees’,” you try, no doubt butchering the pronunciation. Your mouth starts to water just thinking about the dish, a beef and onion stew that Sophie convinced you to try last year and that you have thought about ever since.

Max laughs, “Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Perfect,” you agree with a nod as you start to walk backwards towards the pitlane, “I’ll see you at seven then.”

***

“Oh my God,” you roll your eyes and lean back in your chair, savouring the taste of your final bite. Holding your hand in front of your mouth then, because you still have some manners left, “That was so good!”

Sophie and Max share a look before they both let out a laugh and Max continues telling you about his holiday in Brazil, after you’ve already told them a little about your time in Mallorca, leaving out a few choice details of course.

Dinner with Sophie and Max is nice, it always is. You don’t get to see Sophie that often and when you do it’s usually just a quick hello in the paddock after quali or before the race and so to be able to sit down with her and Max and have a couple of hours to catch up is a small treat in and of itself.

When Max excuses himself to go to the bathroom, Sophie leans forwards and waits until he’s out of earshot before she softly says, “There’s something different about you, Pip.”

You smile and look down, trying to avoid her curious gaze because you know if she looks at you long enough you’ll just spill everything. Instead you trace the rim of your water glass with your fingers and shrug, “I’m just really in a good place, I guess. Work is going well and-”

“Hmm,” Sophie agrees half-heartedly, seeing right through your act. “It’s ok if you don’t want to tell me yet, sweetheart. I know how exciting it can be to keep something to yourself for a while.”

“Yeah,” you nod and look up at her, smiling almost apologetically, “I think I should tell Max first-”

She reaches over the table and puts her hand on yours, “Whatever it is or-” she smiles, “Whoever it is, I’m sure Max will be fine.”

“I know. It’s just-” you take a deep breath.

“He cares about you so much,” Sophie looks up then and when you follow her eyes you see Max making his way back to the table. She leans in closer, squeezes your hand and whispers, “He’ll be fine.”

***

During the drivers’ interviews on Thursday, pairing Pierre with Mick and Yuki with Fernando, you stay in the media room for all ten interviews like you always do, smiling when you see Carlos and Daniel walk on stage.

You’re all the way in the back of the room but still Carlos’ eyes find yours and the smile he sends you makes the heat rise to your cheeks. Daniel is too busy cracking jokes with one of the journalist to notice anything but then Carlos gets asked what he did over his summer holidays, which he answers with a very vague, “Not much, I enjoyed having some time off while also making sure I kept up with the training schedule,”, and all of a sudden Daniel’s all over him with cheeky grins and cheesy winks that are meant to let everyone know that, as far as Daniel’s concerned, Carlos is not telling the full story.

For a moment you’re worried Daniel knows- Something, but- He couldn’t, can’t he? Still, you clear your throat loud enough to catch Daniel’s attention and when his eyes land on you, you tell him to cut it out with a miniscule shake of your head.

He furrows his brows and you know he’ll give you shit for it later, but for now you’ve averted the crisis because the next journalist is already asking Carlos what he thinks of the weather forecast for this weekend and if he’s worried about the race being delayed.

***

“What was that all about, babe?”

You startle a little when Daniel’s warm breath hits your neck and so you curse quietly, which in turn makes him laugh, turning a few heads in your direction. You try to smile apologetically, knowing it’s best not to have the pinnacle of F1 journalism on your bad side.

“Bad conscience, huh?” He pinches your side and puts his mouth even closer to your ear, “So come on, spill the tea, what were you and Sainz up to this summer?”

“Nothing,” you whisper in his direction. “I just didn’t think it would be good for either team if they found out during a press conference that an Alpha Tauri employee spent their summer at a Ferrari driver’s house. There’s a time and place for that, Dan.”

Daniel sucks some air between his teeth, “Yeah, that could get nasty real’ quick, huh?” He slings his arm around your shoulder then and holds up his other hand, extending his pinky to you, “Pinky promise nothing happened?”

You don’t hesitate and hook your finger behind his, “Pinky promise.”

“Good,” he says and oddly enough it sounds as if he believes you because he nods to the podium then, “Let’s hear what these two have to say for themselves then, babe.”

You follow his eyes towards the podium, where Max and Charles are answering some rather boring answers about strategy and their expectations for this weekend.

***

Carlos finds you in the Alpha Tauri hospitality early on Friday morning, the paddock still relatively quiet and not too many other drivers yet around. It’s been your race week ritual ever since he moved from Toro Rosso to Renault and so you were already waiting with an espresso for him and a cappuccino for you. It’s weird, having to act as if you’re still just friends because God, you really want to kiss him. To distract yourself you keep playing with the charm on your bracelet.

He notices, of course he does, and says, with one raised eyebrow and a rather mischievous grin, “If you would just tell him we could- You know-”

“Carlos-” You add a dramatic sigh for full effect. “Later. Ok?”

“Later today, or-” Carlos lets out a laugh when you throw him a look, “What? I need to know how to plan my day, cariño. Can I kiss you? Can I not ki-”

“Carlos!” You put your hand over his mouth and look around rather panicked, hoping nobody has heard him. It doesn’t seem anyone did, “You are a menace, you know that.”

Carlos wiggles his eyebrows and nips at the palm of your hand.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” You let out a sigh and pull back your hand, “I will tell him after the race, ok? I promise.”

He pouts. Of course he does.

You shake your head but can’t help but laugh, “Two more days, babe. You’ll manage.”

“Babe?”

Shit. You turn around and try your best to act cool, “Hi Lando.”

Lando seems unimpressed and points at Carlos, “What are you calling him ‘babe’ for?”

“She’s angry,” Carlos says before you even have the chance to come up with an excuse. When Lando looks between you and Carlos and back, looking more confused than ever, Carlos leans in and whispers, “Did you never notice she calls people ‘babe’ whenever she tries to get her point across even though she knows you’re not gonna listen?”

And, oh damn if that isn’t the truth. You just never knew he picked up on that.

Landos squints at you but doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and just as you’re convinced he’s not buying it he starts nodding enthusiastically, “She does!”

“Lando!” You playfully smack his chest, “You’re supposed to disagree, babe.”

Lando’s eyes widen and then he lets out a cackle, “You’re literally doing it right now.”

You can’t help but laugh but throw Carlos a quick wink when Lando isn’t looking and mouth a quiet, “Nice save.”

***

While the first free practice is rather uneventful, FP2 has Max losing control of the rear of his car and spinning out at Malmedy, hitting the wall. Despite that he still manages to set the fastest time and so you’re not too worried about him or the car, although you still send him a text to make sure he’s ok.

It’s nearing the end of the day and so you’re busy gathering your things when you hear your name being called from outside the garage. When you look up and see your best friend standing there, waving enthusiastically, you can’t help but run over to her and throw yourself at her for a hug, “Hi friend!”

“Hi babe,” she hugs you closer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” you admit easily enough.

She lets go then and puts her hands on your arms, “Now tell me, how are things with that boy toy of yours? I want to know everything.”

“Flo,” you warn through gritted teeth, a quick look around to make sure Pierre isn’t within earshot, “not here.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “During dinner then.” She looks at you expectantly, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let me just grab my things-” you say and nod towards your bag and jacket. “I do want to get changed first though, so we’re stopping at my hotel first, ok?”

“Ok,” she echoes, the word dramatically drawn out, “but you're driving.”

***

“So yeah, friends with benefits,” you conclude your story of your time with Carlos.

Flo eyes you suspiciously but doesn’t say anything.

“We’re just having fun-” you try again but it sounds rather unconvincing and you hope she’s not going to push it. You feel terrible lying to your best friend but you really want to tell Max first and so you add with a cheek grin, “-and great sex, so win-win.”

“Hmm,” she hums, leaning back in her chair, a glass of wine dangling between her fingers. “There’s something you’re not telling me, though.” A wicked grin then, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out.”

“Counting on it,” you challenge her, holding up your glass. “Cheers, babe.”

***

Saturday has a change of weather and all of a sudden you find yourself waiting in the garage, the first qualifying session delayed by fifteen minutes because of the rain that’s absolutely pouring down. You’re not really needed for qualifying but you like to show your support to both Yuki and Pierre and so you tend to hang around anyway.

When it’s finally time to get started, you find your way to the TV screens lining the wall and watch the first round of quali unfold with Pyry, Pierre’s trainer, standing next to you, absolutely towering over you. Flo is standing on Pyry’s other side, nervously chewing on the cuticle of her thumb as her eyes are glued on the screen. You know Spa holds some horrendous memories for her and that she’s not just watching Pierre but Charles as well and so you stand next to her and take her free hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Together you see Yuki getting eliminated after the first stint and Carlos and Charles stranding in Q2, while Pierre and Max advance to Q3, where a crash from Lando brings out the red flags after only a few minutes of racing, which means Max takes pole and Pierre starts sixth on the grid tomorrow.

***

You’re in the media pen with Pierre once qualifying is over and zone out a little when he’s answering questions from Ziggo Sports because their reporter Jack has a very roundabout way of asking something that’s always rather simple. You can’t wait to get out of this cold and so you’re sort of daydreaming about the hot shower waiting for you in your hotel room. It’s then you see Carlos walking over to Sky Sports who are lined up next to where you’re standing and you can feel your heart skip a beat because God, he looks good.

He catches you looking and throws you a wink, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair, knowing exactly what it does to you.

You quickly avert your eyes and try to focus on Jack’s next question but it turns out the interview is over and thus so are Pierre’s media duties. You walk back to the garage together in silence, both of you lost in thought. Before he disappears into his driver's room to get changed, you remind him there’s a scheduled post going up on his Instagram in an hour or so and then continue on towards the Alpha Tauri offices to collect your bag so you can head out and call it a day.

You’re in a relatively quiet part of the paddock when you feel someone walking up behind you and before you can even turn around there are two hands on your hips, gently pushing you into a dark corner in between the Alpha Tauri and Ferrari garages. You gasp, ready to punch whoever has grabbed you but then you hear a low chuckle that you’d recognize anywhere and so instead you turn around and gently slap his chest, whispering a berating, “Carlos!”

“What?” He tries to act all innocent while grinning wickedly, “There’s no one around, cariño. And I really, really want to kiss you. If I have to wait until Sunday evening I won’t survive.”

You let out a giggle, hiding your face against his chest, “You’re so dramatic.”

“It’s why you love me,” he counters almost instantly. “Let me kiss you?”

“We can’t-” you try but you know it’s a losing battle when he puts his fingers under your chin and tilts your head back, making you look up at him.

He licks his lips and lets his eyes fall to your mouth, “Please?”

You don’t say anything but instead push yourself up, brushing your lips against his, letting out a tiny whimper when he kisses back, hard. Soon enough you feel yourself getting lost in the kiss, your hands sneaking into his hair, wishing you could stop time for just five minutes or so.

Carlos has just slipped his tongue inside your mouth, making you moan a little, when you hear a manic laugh coming from somewhere close by.

Both you and Carlos pull back at the same time and you hold onto his arms as you look around him, trying to find the culprit. Maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe they were laughing at something else. Maybe it’s-

It’s Pierre.

Oh shit.

You curse quietly and step to the side, rounding Carlos, arms outstretched to your driver as if any sudden movements will set something in motion you’re not ready to deal with yet.

Pierre shakes his head, still laughing, and holds up his phone, snapping a picture, “C’est chaud ça, hein?”

“Pierre Jean-Jacques Gasly,” you warn him, using your best mom-voice as you slowly walk towards him, “don’t you dare. Delete that.” Dropping your voice then, hoping it will get your point across, “Now.”

It’s no use, his fingers are already hovering over the screen, his lips curled up in a manic grin, “Oh, this is so good-”

“What are you doing?” Your voice is a little high-pitched but Jesus, if he puts any of this on Instagram-

It’s then he looks up and when he sees how close you are he tries to act very innocent all of a sudden, dropping his smile and shrugging, “Nothing.”

You take a deep breath, trying your hardest not to panic, “Give me your phone.”

“What? No.” Pierre takes a step back and hides his phone behind his back.

“Cabrón,” Carlos says from over your shoulder, his voice low and a warning there that makes a shiver run down your spine. “Give her your phone.”

“I didn’t do anything stupid, ok? I just wanted proof. So I can collect my winnings-” He seems to realise his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth and he tries to cover it up by adding, “It’s not online, I swear.”

You look at him in shock, starting to connect dots you’re not sure you want to connect, “Winnings? What? Do you have a bet going on or-?” It’s then you remember your call with Flo, where she told you to figure things out before Spa and- You can’t believe Pierre and Flo would actually bet on you getting together with Carlos. Then again- You shake your head, figure you can worry about that later. Your first priority is getting Pierre’s phone and if he wants to piss you off some more by not giving it to you, fine. You’ll go get it yourself.

Out of nowhere you lunge forward, pushing Pierre against the back of the Ferrari garage and distracting him with a well aimed flick to his cheek-

“Oi!”

-and reach behind him, taking the phone and running back to hide behind Carlos. Pierre’s phone is locked but of course you know the code and so you pull up his last used app, a little surprised to see it’s Whatsapp, and open the most recent message thread, which is a group chat called “Chili and Pip 2021” and for a brief moment you wonder how many previous group chats there have been that they had to add a year to the name. You file that away for later because there are too many contacts in the group for it to just be him and Flo. Jesus.

The last message Pierre sent in the chat is the picture he took, showing Carlos’ back and you behind him, looking absolutely livid. The message he attached a very eloquent, ‘Busted!’

“I can explain-” Pierre tries, and at least now he has the decency to look a little guilty.

“I want you-” you point his phone at him, “-Flo, and everyone else in this fuckin’ group chat in my office in ten minutes,” you tell him through gritted teeth, stepping in front of Carlos then to make your point. “And I’m keeping your phone so you can’t pull any more bullshit, Gasly.”

“But-”

“Nine minutes and forty seconds,” you warn him, turning on your heels then and hold out your hand, waiting until Carlos takes it before you tug him towards the Alpha Tauri building.

When you reach your office, you can’t help but laugh, “Oh, this is going to be fuckin’ awesome.”

Carlos seems confused.

You let go of his hand and lean against your desk, “I know this is not the reaction you expected but- Ok. So. Honestly? I’m actually not surprised they made a bet out of it, I mean- It’s- It’s what we do. When Charles and Flo first started to realise that maybe they liked each other as more than friends, Pierre and I bet on how long it would take him to make it Instagram official so- I won, by the way,” you add with a grin. You wave your hand around, “Not really the point. Anyway, the thing I’m most upset about is that I didn’t figure this out sooner-”

“Why?” He looks at you like he’s afraid you’ve lost your mind, which honestly, after the way you’ve been rambling, you can understand.

“So we could have messed up their wagers,” you explain. “We could have pretended to have gotten into a big fight or- I could have made up a boyfriend, you know? Just, mess with them a little.”

Carlos visibly relaxes and nods, admitting with a shy smile, “Pierre once bet me that Charles would cry during his first podium.” He shrugs and his smile grows wider then, “He lost.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I should have known this would happen. Ugh-” you let out a frustrated sigh but then clap your hands together, “Ok. Here’s what we’re going to do-”

***

“Everyone here?” You look at Pierre, who nods. You’re not convinced, “Where’s Max?”

“Max isn’t in on this-”

Oh, thank God.

“-he doesn’t know anything about this,” Daniel pipes up from where he’s leaning against the wall. “We know how protective he is of you and-"

“Ok. Thank you, Daniel.” You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing when you see Daniel shrink back against the wall like a naughty schoolboy who has been told off by the headmaster. You’re leaning against your desk, hands resting on the cool surface on either side of you, and look across the room.

All the usual suspects are here; Pierre, Charles, Flo, Lando, Daniel- You’re a little surprised to see Yuki here but then again, are you really? You know from experience that Pierre can be quite persuasive and so he probably bullied the younger driver into taking part. No, the one that surprises you most is Rupert, Carlos’ personal trainer. When your eyes land on him you shake your head, hoping it conveys your disbelief, “Really Rupert?”

He laughs and shrugs, “I’ve been seeing you two-” he says with a nod towards Carlos, “- dance around each other since his first year in Formula One, darling. I’m honestly surprised it has taken you this long to figure it out.”

The rest of the drivers in the room nod in agreement. Flo even has the audacity to throw you a look that says ‘Told you so.’

“Anyway,” you continue, focusing on Pierre again. “Since you seem to be the ringleader, Gasly, please explain what’s going on here?”

“Well, I-” Pierre runs a hand through his hair and looks at Flo for backup.

“No. nu-uh.” She shakes her head, “This was all you, Gas.”

His eyes widen in shock at the betrayal by his friend, “Do I need to remind you about-”

“You do not,” Flo bites back. “We both know what happened that night.” As always, they only need half a word to have a full conversation. Flo crosses her arms in front of her chest then, “You’re the one who created the group chat, non?”

Next to her Lando and Yuki nod but then Pierre throws them a warning look and suddenly their shoes are much more interesting to look at. Lando, at least, has the decency to blush.

“I can’t believe you’re going to let me take the blame for this,” Pierre says under his breath before he turns back to you. “Fine. Ok. So-”

You hold up your hand to get him to stop talking and shake your head, “I don’t need all the details. Just tell me who got it right and how much they won.”

Pierre shrugs, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth, “I did.”

“Hey. No,” Yuki says then. “You said race day at Spa, Pierre. It’s not race day yet, is it?”

“Exactly,” Flo joins in. “So I won.”

“No. No, no,” Lando jumps in and points at Flo, “You said before Spa. So technically you both got it wrong.”

You let out what you hope is a frustrated sigh, “Ok, so did no one get it right, or-”

Charles shakes his head in reply, “No. But I think Pierre is the closest.”

“That doesn’t count though, does it?” Carlos says from where he’s standing next to you and when you risk a glance in his direction you can tell he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

“I guess not,” Charles agrees quietly, hanging his head.

“Ok, so then the money is ours,” you say with a shrug as if that settles it. “Perfect.”

A round of protests starts across the room, Pierre arguing that that’s not how it works, while Yuki suggests using the money for a new bet instead, and Lando saying that because you weren’t in on the bet you couldn’t possibly win.

From the corner of your eye you see Daniel push himself off the wall, drawing your attention with a quick wave, “Babe, it has been swell, but Michael’s waiting on me for some guided meditation or- Whatever. I gotta skedaddle out of here.” He reaches into the pocket of his jeans then and pulls out a folded fifty Euro bill, reaching over Yuki to hand it to you, “I’ll make sure Michael pays you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Michael’s in on this as well?”

“Yep,” Daniel nods. “He had you down for Abu Dhabi, by the way-” he throws you a wink, “-So I’ll let him know he’s way off.”

“Sure. Ok. Whatever,” you reply, not surprised. Daniel is just about to open the door when you call out to him, “Dan?” When he turns around you lock eyes with him, “Not a word about this to Max, ok?” You look at everyone in the room then, “I mean it, guys. He can’t hear this from you.”

A chorus of, “We know,” echoes across the room.

“Good.” A smile then, “Thank you.”

“So,” Pierre starts hesitantly, testing the waters, “can we go now, or-”

“Well first of all, you are an idiot for thinking we would announce our relationship on race day.” You scoff, “Have I taught you nothing in our years of working together?”

Pierre hangs his head and repeats from memory, a mocking tone to his voice, “No important news during race weekends. We wait until we’re in between races before we put out personal news.”

“Exactly.” You push yourself off your desk then, “And second of all, it looks like you all owe me fifty Euros, suckers-” you hold out your hand and grin, “- so pay up.”

***

“I really should go see Max,” you tell Carlos once it’s just you and him, and an unexpected three hundred Euros in your back pocket.

“Do you want me to come with you?”

You think about it for a second and then nod, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

“Ok,” Carlos presses a kiss to your temple. “Do you know where he is?”

“Probably still in the garage,”

Carlos laughs, “Yes, I think that might be our best shot.”

***

Sure enough you find Max in the back of the Red Bull garage, going over some data with GP. You walk up to him, Carlos waiting outside because even though they tolerate employees of the sister team in here, you’re not sure it would go over well if you invited one of Red Bull’s main competitors into the lion’s den.

“Max?” You smile as he looks up from the screen and nod towards the pit lane, “Can I talk to you for a second?”

He looks at GP, who nods, “Yeah, we are done here anyway.” Max follows you outside without asking questions and if he’s surprised to see Carlos standing there he doesn’t show it and instead looks at you expectantly, “What do you want to talk about?”

“So,” you draw out, hoping a few extra seconds will help you find the right words, “I have to tell you something. And I need you to not freak out-”

“I won’t-”

“You freak out, Max,” you tell him with a kind smile. “Remember when I told you I missed my flight from Amsterdam and caught a ride with that guy who was driving to Paris so I could take a train from there?”

“Yeah, but that was of course dangerous, Pip,” Max berates you, arms folded in front of his chest now. “He could have been a murderer, or-”

“Yeah, ok,” you hold up your hand to stop him. “This is not that, ok. I am not in danger, so-”

“I’m not going to freak out,” Max says with a heavy sigh, “but you are getting on my nerves. Just tell me what’s going on.”

You take a deep breath and risk one last glance at Carlos, who gives you an encouraging nod, that does nothing to calm your nerves, “CarlosandIareinarelationship,”

Max furrows his brows, “What?”

“Carlos and I,” you repeat, slower this time. “We’re together. In a relationship. It’s very serious, at least uh- For me it is. And I uh-” you know you’re rambling but you can’t seem to stop, “I think Carlos is serious about it as well. I mean, he gave me a bracelet so-”

“Pip,” Carlos puts his hand on your arm and shakes his head, a smile tugging on his lips, “stop.”

You blow out a breath and look at Max, trying one last time, “Carlos and I are in a relationship.”

Max stays silent for a bit but then deadpans in that way only he can, “I of course know.”

“I-” you echo, confused. “You know?”

“Yes.”

“Ho- How?”

Then, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever, “I saw you kissing in the paddock earlier today.”

“Huh.” You look at Carlos, still panicking a little, pointing from you to him and back, “He saw us kissing in the paddock.”

“Seems like he did,” Carlos answers calmly as if somehow he knew Max knew all along.

“Did you know he saw us, or-”

Carlos shakes his head, “I did not but-”

You turn back to Max, “And you’re ok with this?” You’re not sure why you’re trying to self sabotage here but the question comes out almost on its own.

“Of course,” Max looks from you to Carlos as if he’s confused why you’re even having this conversation.

“Ok.” You nod, relieved, “Ok. Cool. Uhm-” you look at Carlos and shrug, “Well, I guess that’s that then.”

“That doesn’t mean I won’t seriously hurt you if you ever hurt her,” Max says then, looking at Carlos with that determined look he gets whenever he tries to get his point across.

“I know, cabrón,” Carlos agrees easily enough. He claps Max on his back, “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

***

EPILOGUE

It’s after Abu Dhabi and its controversial last race, where Max beats Lewis on the last lap and thus wins the championship, after post-season testing, after a hug goodbye and a promise to stay in contact over the winter break to both Yuki and Pierre, and after a quick stop in Monaco where Max gets off his plane and wishes you safe travels, leaving you in the hands of his trusted cabin crew, that you find yourself on your way Mallorca once again.

This time Carlos is waiting for you at the airport, standing a little to the side so as to not draw attention to himself, a black baseball cap drawn over his eyes, and his hands in the pockets of his jeans. You spot him before he sees you and you swear your heart skips a beat the moment he looks up and you lock eyes with him.

God, you’ve missed him.

Sure, you’ve seen him just about every other weekend since you left Mallorca in August but other than some stolen glances in the paddock, your regular coffee dates, and some very spicy text messages and phone calls, you haven’t actually been with him and it’s gotten more and more difficult as time went by and so it takes everything you have not to run up to him.

Instead, there’s a chaste hug when he greets you, knowing the airport arrivals hall is too much of a public space to do anything but.

It isn’t until you sit down in the passenger’s seat of his car that’s parked in a far away corner in the garage, that he leans in and kisses you fiercely, tongue running between your lips almost immediately. You open your mouth greedily, your tongue chasing his into his mouth before you lick the inside of his cheek, savouring his taste.

Carlos pulls back then and mutters something in Spanish that you don’t quite catch but can figure out the meaning of soon enough when he steps back and rounds the car, leaving you to catch your breath on your own. When he steps inside he throws you a look that makes you shiver but doesn’t say anything, instead starting the car and backing up out of the parking space.

You put your seatbelt on and turn towards him in your seat, whispering a quiet, “Take me home, Carlos.”

***

Carlos circles your nipple with his tongue, making your arch your back, and you can feel him smile against your skin when you let out a quiet moan. He’s cupping your other breast with one hand while the other has two fingers inside you, slowly scissoring you open as his thumb rubs circles over your clit.

You haven’t even made it into the kitchen yet because he’s got you flush against the wall in the hallway, your dress pushed up to your hips and your panties discarded somewhere between the front door and here. “Carlos,” you sigh, your hands cupping his face and guiding his mouth back to yours, the kiss drenched in want and need and-

“I don’t care how we do it,” Carlos says against the corner of your mouth, “but I’m done hiding you from the rest of the world, mami.” He pulls back a little and looks at you, pupils blown wide, “I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

You hum in agreement, throwing your head back so he can kiss his way back to your chest, your hands in his hair now to keep him in place. “All yours, baby,” you whisper, your voice a little hoarse. You cry out when he adds a third finger without warning, your eyes flying open when you feel him drag his mouth from your breasts to your stomach and further down, watching as he drops to his knees and laps at your clit, “Fuck, that’s it. Right there-”

He looks up at you and actually winks before he slides his hand behind your knee and pulls your leg up onto his shoulder for better access.

The quiet whimper you let out when he pulls his fingers out of you is quickly replaced by a moan when you feel his tongue slide inside and he starts eating you out for real. You grip onto his hair a little tighter and grind your hips against his face, quietly pleading, “Don’t stop,” over and over and over again.

***

“Can’t we just stay here forever,” you muse quietly, your fingers ghosting over his chest, sometimes playing with the charm that’s hanging from his necklace. Behind the curtains the sky is a vivid orange, casting a faint glow into the bedroom that makes it feel like you’re in a movie. “I’ve saved up a nice bit of money and I’m sure you don’t have to work like, ever again-” above you Carlos chuckles, “-so I think we could make it work.”

“Maybe. But I know mamà would kill us if we don’t make it home for Christmas, cariño,” Carlos reasons, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “so-”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you agree quietly. You look up at him then, “Speaking of Christmas-I have an early Christmas present for you.”

Carlos raises his eyebrows, “Oh?”

You reach over him and grab your phone, pulling up the app you use for scheduled posts and angling the screen towards him, “I want to post this tonight. I’m done keeping you a secret.”

He takes your phone from you and scrolls through the five pictures you’ve edited, showing a curated timeline of your relationship since August, the first one a picture of him that you secretly took yesterday, when you were waiting on your food in a café in Cala d’Or, the rest of them selfies of you and him throughout the moments you shared together until now. His smile grows wider when he reads the caption before he looks at you again, “You sure?”

“Very,” you confirm easily enough and push yourself up so you can let your lips ghost over his. “We’ve waited long enough.”

***

“Ok,” you refresh the page to confirm. “Done.”

Next to you Carlos nods, “Good.”

You’re on the couch in the living room, your feet resting in Carlos’ lap, both of you enjoying a glass of red wine. Before you even have a chance to lock your phone it rings, the name of your best friend popping up on your screen and you can’t help but grin when you show Carlos before you accept the call and put it on speaker, “Hi Maxy,”

“Pip-” his voice catches and so he tries again, “Pip, I think you made a mistake.”

“What are you-”

“You posted to your public account,” Max continues, panic seeping through his voice. “I don’t think- This should of course go on your private account. What if anyone- Oh Godverdomme” he lets out a shaky sigh, “you already have a hundred likes. You need to take it down, Pip, before-”

“Maxy,” you interrupt him with a smile, “breathe.” He’s still rambling and so you try again, “Max Emilian Verstappen, stop. Breathe. And go to Carlos’ profile.”

“But-”

“Do it.” You bite your lip to keep from laughing, Carlos already looking at you with a very bemused smile. In your head you count down, waiting for Max to understand, from three, to two, to one, to-

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” you agree easily enough, knowing Max has just seen the same caption with mostly the same pictures, on Carlos’ page. Except for the first one, where Carlos opted for a picture of you and Piñon sleeping together in the garden.

“So this was on purpose?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“And the team is ok with this?”

You let out a laugh, “Max, I love you but if you really think we posted this without running it by our bosses first I wonder if you even really know me.”

“Yeah, ok, that’s fair.” You can just imagine the way Max hangs his head. “Well, in that case I didn’t call.”

You can hear him start to say his goodbyes and so you quickly say, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

It stays quiet on the other end of the line for a few seconds but then you hear him let out a heavy sigh that you know is fake because you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Of course. Congratulations.”

“Thank you, Maxy,” you say with a self-satisfied smile. “I’ll call you on Christmas Day, ok? Love you.”

“Ik ook van jou.” He clears his throat then, “Oh and Carlos?”

Carlos leans in, apparently not surprised that Max knows he was listening in, “Yes, cabrón?

“You’re very lucky to have her, mate. Don’t fuck it up.”

Carlos shakes his head even though Max can’t see him and looks at you with a warm smile, his hand wrapping around your wrist and his thumb rubbing the charm on your bracelet, “Never.”

Once you’ve said your goodbyes you put your phone on silent and toss it aside and when Carlos looks at you with a frown, you grin, “Everyone else can wait until tomorrow.”

“God, I love you,” Carlos mutters as he leans forward, swinging one leg over your hips so he’s lying on top of you, holding some of his weight off by resting on his elbows. He looks down at you and dips his head then, finding your mouth with his.

The kiss is different, slower, like you’re both desperate to savour every minute because you know there’s no rush. Not anymore. You let your hands run through his hair and when after a while he pulls back and collapses on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath hitting your skin in regular breaths, you wrap one leg around his waist and let out a content sigh, feeling your eyes grow heavy when you whisper, “I love you.”

“Te amo, mi reina.”

- FIN -

#Carlos Sainz x reader #F1 fanfic #CS55 #Carlos Sainz imagine #Carlos Sainz jr #Harley Sunday x Carlos Sainz jr

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sleeby-anon · 8 months

Text

Fae!Wilbur Soot x reader

Afab gender neutral reader

A unfinished drabble done in the discord server I figured I’d better post it to help the lot of you through the content drought. It’s incredibly unorganized. Based on the idea of how fae get drunk off honey.

This is NSFW: Minors piss off. Uhhh aphrodisiacs and tipsy pretty fae boy

One passionate night spent with loving murmurs and fingers tracing skin, and as he is admiring your body for the umpteenth time, his eyes shining something sadistic before grabbing the little jar, dipping his fingers in and dribbling honey all over you.

He’s tracing patterns into your skin with the stuff and looking at you with this sadistic grin before he’s dipping his fingers back in and dribbling the stuff all over your clit and vagina—it’s soft, and syrupy, and you are about to ask what he’s doing before he’s eagerly lapping at your folds—with a vigor you have not felt from him in some time

He’s calling you honeybee, honeycomb, as he’s pressing the sweet sticky stuff into your skin, then kissing you with the taste of honey and you still on his tongue

He’s lapping up the dribbles of the honey on your body before pressing bruising kisses into them. And his magic is becoming more wild, you can feel it. From the soft grass peeking through the floorboards and the soft little flowers reaching up to graze your arms, the way a warm fall breeze seems to whistle through the air even through your windows are shut, and the smell of sun nourished wind-kissed fruit are being exposed through the air like the crackle of a lightning storm—the honeys is definitely driving him more wild

You don’t even wake up the next morning feeling sticky from the honey—there is a absolutely passed out Wilbur (who is curled into you) and a near empty jar of honey

Getting to the point where you hide it from him—partly because he’s a honeyholic—but if he finds it he will be rubbing it along your arms, and then spending near hours massaging it into your skin, and kissing off the excess—you are his honeybee, and you should be nothing but sweet at all times

And it’s not like you need to go and buy raw honey—he’s fae—he literally knows of several hives—plus if you know an apiary nearby they almost always have honey for the one who is giving them flower clippings that make their hives go wild.

And on a few select days in the fall, you’ll surprise him with baklava, or honey milk teas, and stars above if you wanted to have sex you could have just *asked*

And dear gods does he want to spoil you. He want to bathe you in the finest of springs and then drip the summer warmed honey in between your thighs and across your chest—kissing it into your skin as you tremble from his touch alone.

And how he wishes you could be effected by the honey the same way the honey effects him his magic gone wild, the way the only thing he cares to hear is the way you moan his name like a prayer—honey on your lips, sweet and intoxicating and all he can think of is more

Eventually he does some magic digging and find an enchanted honey that works as an aphrodisiac to humans, to regular fae it’s like the strength of a strong wine. And by god is he excited to use it on you.

The minute you get home—absolutely dead on your feet, Wilbur is pulling you outside to his faerie circle, the one through the thick of the enchanted woods and with the falls nearby and he’s murmuring to you, to let him take care of you for tonight, just one night. And you are so tired, and the thought of being taken care of doesn’t sound so bad, so you acquiesce

And he’s pulling off your clothes while pulling you into one of the pools by the falls. He sits behind you, pulling your head back until your hair is floating in a halo around your head in the water, and he’s softly massaging your face, paying special attention to your jaw and temples before pulling you up, your back to his chest and he’s taking great care in cleaning you of the the wretched modern world

And all the while he’s humming. Something old, something ancient—a melody lost to time—but you can feel yourself relaxing, becoming more at ease from the shitty ass day you had—the tension leaving your shoulders

The next time you open your eyes, you feel him dragging two fingers across your chest—you believe it must be honey, he only dragged two fingers like that across you for one reason. Only this time, after smearing it across your chest, he tipped your head back and murmured not to swallow any of it. You knew it’s wasn’t his semen or anything—but the immediate taste of sweetness on your tongue, it wa a honey. After a few seconds of him pouring it into your mouth he stopped and you swallowed.

You weren’t sure what the reason was for him sharing his precious resource (especially when he couldn’t kiss it off of you) but he was currently massaging your scalp and finger combing through your hair in the water. It didn’t seem all that important to think right now

And he’s pulling you out of the water, an oddly warm fall breeze drying your naked body and your hair somehow carefully braided back, with the littlest of branches and fall leaves woven in.

And he’s pulling you his circle, still humming that melody that makes your thought process become soup, and the moss in his circle softens your step, and the grass grows tall around the stone and mushroom circle—as if shielding you from prying eyes. You vaguely feel the dribbling of more honey across your chest, before it being smeared into your stomach, and a healthy dollop spread between your thighs.

But for some reason, this time unlike the other times, you felt warmer, more comfortable, and the places where the honey touches made the area crazy sensitive to touch, and you nearly moaned something obscene when he began massaging the honey into your sex.

And then he’s kissing it off of you, the feeling too intense to describe, as you writhe and gasp and moan out his name, over and over he kisses the honey off you a bit slower, letting you feel nearly everything.

The residue of his spit and the honey leaves you trembling, as he’s stretching you out with his fingers—using more of the honey as lube, and it’s such an intense and exhilarating form of pleasure that tears are leaking down your face—it’s all so much—and it’s overwhelming but you can’t say no.

#sleeby anon #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #nsft #fae wilbur soot

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p1-f1 · 10 months

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Flowers

Pairings: Kenny x Shy!Reader

Readers Gender: None implied, pet names like princess used

Warnings: Not proofread (bro doesn't have the time)

WC & Notes: 1.8k // I really liked making this one, thank you Cas <3

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

The flowers of the Summer market seemed to glow from the sun. Baskets of pink, yellow, orange, all lay in front of you. It was beautiful. As was the entire market. Fruits, vegetables, any produce. It was a lovely sight you enjoyed every time summer came.

Except this time was different. Instead of your bag hooked around you, it was on Kenny's shoulder. His arm around your waist as the two of you walked through the peaceful market.

Sure you had brought friends along, but to you, Kenny was more than a friend. He was your best friend, and possible crush. Not that he'd ever know. If you tried to talk to him about that, you wouldn't be able to get a sentence out. Stuttering and blushing like a mess. That's the effect this boy had on you.

The blonde looked down at you, offering a sweet smile you loved. You were so adorable in his eyes. So quiet and reserved. Always shaking your head or hiding the moment a suggestive comment or joke is made.

Kenny knew you had a crush. Had ever since 4th grade. You two had met when Cartman pulled you into whatever shenanigans, but soon found out that you were too shy to do what he wanted. Kenny wouldn't stop looking at you. Wouldn't stop flirting with you. It drove you wild, and your reactions made him crazy.

You were perfect in his eyes. The way you style your hair, the way you dress, even the way you walk. It drove him crazy. Because to him, you were an angel. Something that could do or say no wrong in his eyes. And the fact you couldn't even think about something suggestive without blushing made him suspect it further.

And not only those, but the small things made him head over heels. When a suggestive comment was made, you would hide your head behind your bag or nearest friend. (Often being him, he wouldn't stop touching you.) How you never forgot anything he said. When he was feeling sad, you were there. Letting him cuddle you and vent about his feelings.

Just being around you was therapy enough. So this market, was a perfect situation to ask a question which had been burning through him.

His arm around your waist tightened, leading you away from the crowded place and to a small table near a fountain, where people often sat to cool down.

"Kenny? Are you tired?"

You mumbled softly, looking up at the boy.

"No, I just.. I just wanted to sit with you for a while, sweetheart. Talk, yknow?"

Oh, the way those nicknames he gave you came out so smoothly melted you. If only he could also call you his.

"Okay. What about?"

He chuckled, taking your bag off of his shoulder and putting it next to him.

"Would you want to come back with me today? Or are you busy?"

Sadly, your roommate, Kyle, had decided that today would be a cleaning day. As soon as you got home, he would be there, with a mop or broom ready. He wasn't all that bad, he let you have breaks often, and always let you choose what you wanted (thankfully never making you clean bathrooms)

"I'm busy. Sorry, Ken."

Kenny let out a sigh, but gave you a reassuring smile.

"That's okay. Just uh, tell me when you're free. Okay, y/n?"

"Of course."

☆★☆★

Coming home from the market, you sat your bags down at the door. You didn't even have to look for Kyle. He was sat in the kitchen, on his phone, waiting for you.

"Have fun at your date?"

"It's not a date!"

You squeaked out, a small heat in your cheeks at the thought of Kenny really taking you on a date.

"Whatever. Broom or mop?"

A sigh left your mouth as you walked into the kitchen. Looking over at Kyle with his stupid smug smile looking back.

"Broom."

After a few hours of cleaning with Kyle, he finally let you have a well deserved rest. Instead of staying up, you figured going to bed a bit early tonight was a good idea. You had to meet up with Kenny the next day.

☆★☆★

It seemed like yesterday was a week ago, because instead of those white clouds and blue skies you had seen yesterday, a mix of greys and whites were in the sky. Also a few occasional raindrops.

Opening your phone, you clicked on that small orange image of Kenny's contact.

"Hey. Did you wanna hang out?"

"Coruse I'll see u innnn 20."

"Okay. See you then."

It was funny how fast Kenny texted back, like he was waiting for you to text him or he had your notifications on specifically. (He did) As you started to walk, the rain went from a few drops to pouring down. Wasn't it your lucky day.

You started to run down the sidewalk, trying your hardest to pick up the pace to not be soaked. Right as you were turning to Kenny's apartment complex, you slipped. Falling on your ass.

A hand reached out, and you could only hope it was Kenny as you reached up and pulled. They pulled you up easily, and you could finally see that blonde head of hair and those concerned eyes.

"Y/N? You okay?"

His worried voice warmed your body, a nice feeling came whenever you heard it.

"Yeah, I'm uh.. I'm fine."

You managed to squeak out, noticing the boy dressed up, or you think so at least. Kenny didnt have much nice clothing, so it was hard to tell.

He looked nice, and just looking at him made a part of your cheeks blush pink and heat up. Those nice jeans. Not the ones he wore everyday, no, these were more tight fit and not loose at the bottom. And instead of a t shirt or tank top, it was a button up you could assume he managed to buy from Walmart on sale.

It wasn't the highest quality, but it didn't have any holes or stains. (Somehow)

"Hey, do you want to come inside?"

"Sure! Yeah!"

You nodded, flustered. For some reason, it felt different from other days. Kenny wasn't even acting more flirty, less, if so. Surely it wasn't just the way he dressed. Was it?

Walking into Kenny's apartment, you could tell his roommate is a life saver for cleaning. Because his room was not the cleanest. It was a lot cleaner than the last time you came, but, that didn't change the fact that it was far from clean.

"Here. I think I have some of your clothes in my closet."

He handed you some of your clothes, a simple bottom and top. You took the clothes, a shiver sent down your spine as you and him brushed fingers. Seriously, something was different.

You knew you had a crush on the blonde, but was it this intense? No, couldn't be.

After you changed, he sat you down, and looked nervous? You were worried now. Kenny was never serious.

"Let's go out. Sound good? Yeah? Come on."

He rushed you out, hardly letting you get a word in before you were walking down the stairs of his apartment complex. It was concerning how he wouldn't let you talk.

☆★☆★

The two of you were walking down the street, his arm wrapped around your waist from the side. This made you flustered enough, avoiding eye contact with him the entire time, head glued to the floor.

You didn't even know where he was taking you, before you saw his old truck. He chuckled, tilting your head up to look at it. The dusty thing he'd had since high school.

Kenny opened your door for you, letting you sit down before he ruffled your hair and closed the door behind him. Next thing you know, he was next to you, driving down some backroad with his hand rubbing your thigh and knee.

As if you weren't nervous already, he added rubbing your thigh to the mix, which made you blush and stutter. He liked seeing you flustered and nervous all for him. It made him feel special.

"Sweet heart? You all nervous because of me? Come on… look at me. Let me see that pretty little face of yours." (Muahaha get called pretty loser/j)

You barely managed to glance over and meet eyes with him, too nervous to do so. But, sadly, he did catch a glimpse of your blushing face.

"Oh, doll, you're blushing? How sweet. I'm flattered."

The blonde let out a small giggle, god he was adorable. You wanted to squish and kiss his stupid adorable face so bad.

"We're here, honey."

As your hand reached from the door, somehow, Kenny had already gotten to it first. His hand swatted yours, opening the door for you like the 'gentleman' he is.

"I always get the door for you, Y/N. That's the rule."

He was so serious about a silly rule. Made him even more adorable. And when he pouts, just more kissable.

"Come on, baby."

He lifted you out once again, and then you saw where you were. A flower field. Flowers just like the ones at that summer market you took Kenny to.

Beautiful reds, yellows, oranges, and even some pinks mixed with beautiful whites and the green stems of the plants. It was beautiful, if you died you're sure this would be heaven.

Your eyes sparkled, looking around. You had already spun in a circle multiple times, so in awe of this beautiful landscape that looked like it was out of a painting.

Kenny chuckled softly, taking your hand and walking further into the field. The two of you came up to a hill that when climbed, showed you just more beauty.

He sat you down on the hill, smiling softly with a look in his eyes that could only be described as lovingly.

"Y/N."

You looked up at him, snapping back from the blue skies and pretty flowers.

"Yes?"

Kenny held your hands in his, smiling softly.

"You're the sweetest, most amazing person I've met. I don't know if I'd be as happy as I am now if I didn't meet you. And anyone who would get to be with you is the luckiest person ever. So… can I be that lucky?"

It seemed you had froze, pink cheeks, eyes full of awe, and just overall surprised. You tried to speak, but only broken vowels and sounds came out of your mouth.

"Princess?"

After a while of you just struggling to speak, you finally got out a word.

"Yes!"

Kenny chuckled, pulling you to him. He hugged you tightly, arms around your waist and yours around his shoulders. The blonde rubbed your back, whispering soft loving things into your ears mixed with the giggles of the two of you.

And you just sat there together, happy with the small snickers of you and him, the sound of the wind hitting the trees, and the smell of flowers.

#kenny mccormick x reader #south park x reader #kenny mccormick x y/n #pifi writes

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jokeroutsubs · 6 months

Text

ENG SUB translation: JOKER OUT: The audience knows we’re a real thing, not just a three-minute performance.

Original article from Serbian website Zoomer.rs: http://zoomer.rs/joker-out-publika-zna-da-smo-realna-stvar-ne-samo-nastup-od-tri-minuta/

Translation by @moonlvster

JOKER OUT: The audience knows we’re a real thing, not just a three-minute performance.

Before the frontman of the Slovenian band Joker Out knelt in front of a Serbian audience last Friday and on their request sang “Đurđevdan”, the popular band that gained international recognition at this year’s Eurovision received a Golden Record for the single ‘Carpe Diem’. On this occasion, Zoomer spoke with Jan Peteh and vocalist Bojan Cvjetićanin, whom the Serbian audience especially like because of his background. Bojan and Jan told us that they look at their Eurovision success from a distance, reveal details of their tour, as well as when the awaited third album is coming out.

Which city has been the most memorable one on the tour so far? Where would you like to perform and haven’t had the chance this time?

We liked it the most in Ireland, England, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Serbia, Croatia and Slovenia. This year we’ll miss a few countries we’d like to go to, which are Italy, Spain, Portugal, Morocco, there’s plenty. I think next year we’ll perform in some of the countries we missed this year. Nothing is confirmed, but the team has hinted at us about the possibility of going to Australia, America and Japan next year. We want to return to many countries, especially ones in the region. It’s really intimate, homely, the audience is warm, they greeted us better than we could’ve expected. Just love.

That means next year is reserved for a tour too, can we expect some new music or will you be busy with gigs?

The first half of 2024 we’re going to live in London, where we’re going to create and record the new album. In March and April we’re having a month-long tour, then summer festivals and at the end of the year another headlining tour. So a new album is coming out next autumn. We hope. (laughter)

Is it true that the new album will be in multiple languages?

It is. It’s going to be in at least three languages, which are, of course, Slovenian, Serbian and English, and it’s possible we’ll throw in more.

The unexpected boom after Eurovision has, on the one hand, given you a stepping stone, and on the other hand perhaps forced a prefix that isn’t always appreciated in the music world. What do you think of that?

I would absolutely say that it was a stepping stone for us. I believe that our result shows we’re not just Eurovision participants, but we have proven to the public that there is some sort of story and a longer period in which we have been creating and that this is a real thing, not just a three minute performance. The fact that we are coming to Europe, that people are buying tickets to our shows and singing our songs for an hour and a half, is enough of an indicator of Eurovision was a catapult for us as you could wish for, and that we have passed that moment of a few minutes.

Do you maintain friendships made at Eurovision?

We hang out a lot, yes. With Käärijä, Luke Black and many more, Monika from Lithuania, Let 3, we keep in touch with the guys from San Marino, we even performed with Wild Youth on our UK tour.

Where do you like to spend time in Belgrade?

Jan has only been here for performances, but I spend the most time around Cetinjska Street, I’ll say Marsh. (laughter)

What do you think about socially engaged music, are there any topics you particularly care about?

As a band we agreed not to take a political stand. We’re a group of musicians and we always speak out if a violation of human rights is in question, but for other political matters we’re not the right people to ask. We don’t think it’s fair for us to influence people because we have opinions. Just because we’re famous and have some kind of influence, we don’t have to be objectively right. In terms of social topics, we already sing about them in our songs. Our job is to bring people together into one space and to create a feeling of closeness, love and unity in them.

#joker out #bojan cvjeticanin #jokeroutsubs #jan peteh #kris gustin #nace jordan #bojan cvjetićanin #jure macek #kris guštin

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 4 days

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Everlong: Vampire!Elliott x Reader

You only noticed it recently.

Standing in the middle of the fence bordering the barns and coops, your eyes gazed over the animals lazily lounging around in the summer sun. Numbers rattled off in your head as you tried to count them the best that you could, stopping when you were sure you’d counted them all only to scoff and start over. Maybe you were double counting? Maybe you were messing up since they were all padding around the packed dirt and grassy fields you tended to? You instead counted heads instead of groups of feet and hooves. Your count kept showing that your barn animals were all present, but your coop animals were missing a few tails. A few cottontails, to be exact.

Entering the two coops, you dug through the nesting hay and searched in all of the nooks and crannies you could find, only to come up without the two rabbits you were missing.

Worry bubbled in your gut, suddenly afraid that maybe something had gotten into coop at night. A fox? A wolf maybe? You’ve heard howling every now and again in the woods, but you’ve never seen them before. If it had been a predator, you were sure that the coops would’ve been trashed, both birds and rabbits completely missing rather than just two of your older rabbits.

Maybe they had gotten out? It seemed odd, but you couldn’t push past the idea. Scanning the fences for any sign of the bunnies digging, you worried your bottom lip. You’ve seen the wild rabbits around plenty of times, so you knew they would at least have some company in the shrubbery around town. You just hoped they would come hopping back soon, especially before winter came. In your search, you had accidentally brushed your fingers against a sharp piece of wood jutting out from the fence, knicking at your fingertip and drew a bit of blood.

You decided to finally settle this, lay it to rest as the sun started to beat down on you. You wafted the loose collar of your shirt to fan the sweat beading at your face. It was too hot for you to be out here worrying. You waved your hand a bit, the pain quickly throbbed before dulling as you pat the little bit of blood on your spare rag.

You trekked back to your farmhouse, hoping to spy your husband standing on the porch like he has done multiple times. He always stood there with a glass of something cold for you to drink and a beaming smile waiting to tell you about all of the progress he’s made with his writing. But as you walked up the cobbled path you laid down by hand, you slowed your pace when you realized Elliott wasn’t there.

Come to think of it, Elliott hadn’t really been around much.

Your stomach churned even more with worry as you stepped up onto the porch and entered your home. Sighing as the air-conditioned living room greeted you with open arms, you shucked off your boots and padded towards the bedroom in search of your husband. You fell asleep before he had gotten into bed and woke with him still fast asleep beside you. You weren’t sure if it was because of the drawn curtains, but you remember having to look at him a little longer as he seemed to be paler. You hoped he wasn’t getting sick.

You peered into the bedroom, expecting to see your husband in bed still if he really was sick only to see the sheets had been neatly made, the blankets had been cold for hours.

You next peered into his study, the cutout room that connected to your bedroom you both had converted so Elliott could have a little space all to his own. The cabin on the beach was still his, you just felt bad that he would have to trek there if he wanted some alone time or to write in peace, so you fixed up the room just for him. But the wallpaper and wood both seemed dim when you opened the door. The books stacked on the desk were all opened, scribbles written all over in dark ink, the papers he had been writing on for his next novel had been left nearly bare long enough for dust to start to form on the parchment. How long had he not been writing?

Something had to be wrong.

Something had to be wrong and you felt horrible for not noticing it sooner. You had been busy all spring helping Gunther with the museum and collecting all of this wood and stone to help Robin with some projects for the town that you had failed to notice your husband was going through a depressive slump.

You jumped a bit in your skin when you heard lithe footsteps start to come down the stairs. You hurried into the living room just as Elliott had finished his descent. He was suddenly startled out of his thoughts, almost as though he wasn’t expecting you to be home. He looked sickly, like he was developing a pretty bad flu, and he looked as though he had lost a bit of weight.

But just the way he looked at you made your heart ache like someone had stabbed you with a burning hot knife.

It was some terrible concoction of dread and annoyance and maybe even disgust. It felt as though he was looking at you like you were all of a sudden the bane of his existence. It was like you were a stranger in his house. Like you were prey that stupidly walked into the lair of the predator.

You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in attention. You instead swallowed the lump that was slowly forming in your throat and made eye contact with your husband.

“Are you feeling okay, El?” you questioned firmly, afraid of your voice wobbling.

He took his time to answer you, almost as though he was debating on what to say, whether to tell you the truth or lie to not hurt your feelings. Either way, it was going to sting.

“Why do you ask?”

His voice was a little hoarse and scratchy, like he hadn’t drank water in a few days or he had been hacking up a lung just seconds ago. You narrowed your eyes a bit. It was still your Elliott, that’s for sure; Answering a question he didn’t exactly want to answer right away with a question of his own. At least you now knew he wasn’t an alien replacement. He started to make his way past you, probably to lock himself in his study to be alone for awhile.

“You don’t look so good. I can call Harvey, see if he can make a house call-”

“No,” he cut you off with a pointed glare.

He started to walk past you. You swore you heard him mutter something under his breath along the lines of ‘He can’t do anything.’ He suddenly stopped in his tracks, shoulders squaring as he stood up straight like he had been shocked to life. He barely moved his head just enough to glance over his shoulder at you, a look of what seemed to be… fear was painted on his face.

“Are you- Are you bleeding, (Y/n)?” his voice was soft.

You turned your hand over, glancing down at the finger you had just cut by accident not even ten minutes ago. It had already clotted with a dark crust, but you could still feel a little bit of pain radiating from it, throbbing down the length of your finger until it buzzed numbly in your palm.

“Yeah- I caught it on sharp splinter when I was checking the animals.” You suddenly perked up. “Speaking of, you wouldn’t happen to know where two of the rabbits are, do you? They’re missing from the coop.”

The look of dread worsened on his face when you asked him that one little question. You saw him eyeing the small cut on your finger like you had the plague. He rubbed at his jaw and mouth and avoided your gaze.

“No- No I-,” Elliott’s words died in his throat.

He suddenly started walking away from you. It was a shock, annoyance bubbling in your veins at his avoidance of your questions. You followed him back into your bedroom before he quickly entered the bathroom. The bathroom door slammed shut, echoing through the house. It startled your cat who was lazily following behind you, the poor thing scurrying off into another room.

“Elliott,” you called, not ready for this to be over. He didn’t answer, but you heard the door lock shut. You didn’t know if you were more pissed off or worried by his behavior. You stepped up to the door, fist ready to knock only for your blood to suddenly cool. You pressed your hand flat against the hardwood door and sighed. “Elliott, tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

Little did you know that on the other side of the bathroom door, Elliott was standing there with his hands pressed against the wall on either side of the doot. His forehead pressed into the wood as he nosed the crack of the door.

He could smell you.

He could smell every bit of you and it made his shoulders and hands quake.

He can smell the salt of your sweat drenching the collar of your shirt, the fresh dirt that clung to the cuffs of your pants.

Your blood coursing through your veins.

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly drier than the Calico Desert as he ground his teeth. He felt soft pricks against his bottom lip, eyes wincing as his fangs ghosted against the door.

He can’t lose control.

His hands clenched into tight fists, veins bulging in his forearms as fought tooth and nail to keep his sanity from slipping. His body washed over in a gleam of cold sweat. His heart was barely beating, his body felt frigid and boiling at the same time. He’s never been so hungry before, one bite couldn’t hurt-

No.

Elliott yanked himself away from the door, turning away and catching himself on the vanity sink. He gripped the marble edges so hard he almost cracked the stone. He caught a glance of himself in the mirror; He could never get used to seeing himself like that in any reflection. His pallid skin replaced his hearty tan, the veins seemingly painted on his skin, the deep ruby eyes that overtook his emerald hues. Just the way his clothes seemed to droop from his lithe form weakening and the strands of auburn that slipped from its tie, he looked like a disheveled monster, the fangs glistening in his mouth were just the cake topper.

‘When were you going to tell your lover what you really are?’ his subconscious cooed in his ear.

He should’ve told you years ago when you both were still flirting with each other- No. He should have never gotten with you in the first place. He’s heard all of the horror stories that came when a vampire tried to romance a human, they all never ended well. Why did he think this would be different? And now, here he was, trapped in the bathroom that seemed to slowly close in on him as the regrets started piling up left and right.

It was getting to be too much.

His mind was racing and he was just so hungry.

You knocked softly, but in his head, it felt like you were smacking the door with a frying pan. His temples throbbed, his eyes burned, his mouth ached. He could practically taste how sweet your blood would be on his tongue, and that cut on your finger wasn’t doing him any justice.

“Elliott? Can you let me in?” Your voice was so pained. It hurt him listening to you be so worried about him when you should be terrified. You should be terrified of what he’s hidden from you for years. You should be terrified of what he did to those poor rabbits. You should be terrified about what’s in your bathroom right now. “Please?”

He could feel his sanity pull taut and thin like a piece of fragile thread.

And it snapped.

#stardew valley #elliott stardew valley #elliott x farmer #elliott x reader

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