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sevensoulmates · 1 day

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Buddie 7x07 "Ghost of a Second Chance" Meta

So sorry for the delay! This one took me a minute due to life/work stuff happening, but here it is! A doozy! This episode had a lot of parallels with the other characters storylines happening so bear with me here! This is mostly going to be about Eddie.

This episode deals a lot with past trauma, specifically bringing up stuff that some of the characters haven't dealt with in a while or seemingly had already dealt with in the past. Maddie with Doug's abduction, Bobby and the apartment fire, Eddie and Shannon. All of these are re-introduced in this episode, but it's important to note that they are NOT resolved, mostly Bobby and Eddie, and will likely continue into the rest of the season. Maddie reacts the most noticeably to her trauma being triggered, and of the three, she's the only one who has actually managed to work through that trauma from the past, so while it does affect her, it does not cause her to self-destruct like Eddie and most likely Bobby will.

As many of us predicted, we theorized that it was going to get much worse for Eddie before it would get better. And this episode has put Eddie on that path that will likely take him towards rock bottom if Ryan and Tim's interviews and teasers for his 7b arc are to be believed.

The first big parallel to Eddie's storyline is the woman and her baby being abducted by a man with mental health problems who allowed a past trauma with his ex-wife/child to reach a dangerous point. While Eddie's actions in this episode are not placing a woman's life in danger, it does parallel how in pursuit of soothing his own pain, Eddie and this man, are prioritizing their own feelings, over the feelings of a woman stranger (Kim) and an innocent kid.

I was already anticipating many many Shannon call-backs in this episode, but the writers dive in immediately by having Chimney intubate Catherine. This is the same heavy choice Chimeny had to make when Shannon was hit by a car, and Chimney was interim Captain. He had to make a choice to either intubate Shannon, effectively taking away her last chance to say dying words or to not intubate and allow Eddie and Shannon to exchange final words. With Shannon, Chimney does not intubate, but with Catherine, he does. This could possibly indicate the need for Eddie to make different decisions this time around if he wants to survive this new catastrophic plotline.

This was an interesting way for the writers to give us a kind of "speedrun" of introducing us to Marisol a bit more. I know that the ENTIRE fandom has been bugging over the fact that we "hardly know anything about Marisol other than DIY and Nunnery", and now they're giving us more information, but notably it's all very surface-level information. It makes the scene feel like Eddie's trying to get to know her for the first time instead of this being a woman he's been seeing for about six months at this point.

While 7x05 did indicate to us that Eddie is trying to get to know her all over again, it really does drive home how little effort Eddie has put into trying to build a relationship with her, which is then further proved by the rest of the episode. All of this demonstrated very clearly just how little investment Eddie has had in ANY of his relationships after Shannon's death. It's probably supposed to make us think "Oh, that's because he only ever truly loved Shannon!" but in reality, the Eddie-Shannon onscreen relationship was very tumultuous, and they spent most of their relationship (even during their time pre-military) away from each other. All in all, the topic of how well Eddie knows the women he's with, and how much effort/investment he puts into his relationships (including Shannon) are being pulled into question here. And I think it's being done to show the audience that Eddie has only ever dated and married women as a duty and not something he actually does because he wants to be with the women as people. Once again, this includes Shannon.

Before Marisol can even finish her two truths and a lie, Eddie interrupts, starting to dictate the conversation again, and Chris is the one who has to step in, reminding Eddie that this moment is about Marisol. Eddie has been the one to lead his relationships with both Ana and Marisol, almost to the point of steamrolling over them. A similar thing happened in his relationship with Shannon, where Shannon notes that Eddie is always making decisions for them without consulting her, including going to the military, or moving Chris to a new school, etc. and how that was always a giant issue in their relationship. While this moment is not Eddie purposely steamrolling over Marisol, it does show that again, Eddie has a myopic view of relationships with women, where he's constantly trying to steer them towards something that he wants without really letting the woman have any agency. Shannon had to physically leave him in order to get any agency of her own.

Additionally, the choice to have the get to know you game be "two truths and a lie", inherently implies dishonesty, or at least makes us think of lying. And considering that becomes a theme for Eddie this episode and likely in upcoming episodes, it's also indicative of the general theme of not knowing someone and not being honest with them. It could've been "twenty questions" or something not involving purposely lying, but instead it's two truths and lie, and Eddie is now about to be involved in a whole bunch of lies.

I've seen others point out that this line is clearly meant to compare Marisol and Shannon. Shannon, Chris and Eddie had a tradition involving smores, one that Chris and Eddie were trying to keep alive only last season when they visited Shannon's grave. This line is meant to show us that Marisol is not Shannon, and as Eddie actually gets to know her, this is more and more evident. It's no fault of Marisol's, but it's likely what is sticking in Eddie's head, right before he ends up meeting Kim. Eddie, once again dictating what he wants Marisol to be rather than accepting the truth of who Marisol is, exclaims that obviously Marisol has had smores because Shannon loved smores. But Marisol is not Shannon, and Eddie is always comparing his partners to Shannon in unhealthy ways.

While this line is clearly a joke, nothing is done without purpose in TVland, and this is another one of those times where even though Eddie's joking, it's actually telling of how he actually feels. He's already had one foot out the door with Marisol for the last 3-4 episodes, and now it's the smores that makes him say "we can still leave her" because who Marisol is, does not align with who Shannon was. But the thing is, I have a hard time believing that Shannon was even who Eddie truly wanted, at least not without expectation or pressure. Shannon is an Ideal, and no one, not even Shannon herself, can live up to it. No woman is supposed to or can reach this Ideal, because (in my opinion) a woman is not really what Eddie wants deep down in his most hidden of unconscious desires.

"You two aren't going anywhere". Oh, the dramatic irony is killing me here. Because not even a couple of minutes later, Marisol has lost Eddie for good when he sees Kim. The death bells have already been ringing from the very beginning, but this is the final death knell that has been rung. Even if Eddie stays with Marisol through most of this arc, their relationship will end, as will his relationship with Kim.

Eddie and Kim lock eyes and he's reminded of Shannon instantly. Because of that, this relationship is dead before it even begins. A moment later, Christopher calls out "Dad!" just like he did when Shannon and Eddie were on the beach, interrupting Eddie's thoughts.

Marisol notices Eddie acting weird, asks if he's alright, he says he's fine, and she calls him out, asking "is that the truth or a lie?" He promises he's fine, but we as an audience know that's a big ole lie. This has been the case for years, and it's interesting that it's coming at this point in the season. The early half of the season we saw Eddie the "happiest" he's ever been. And I can't help but wonder how much of that was true happiness, and how much of that was just putting off thinking about it. It's easier to lie and say he's fine, that his relationships are fine, that his relationship with Shannon was fine. It's harder to admit the truth, that he's not okay, that his relationships with Marisol and Ana were unhealthy and his relationship with Shannon was the unhealthiest of all. It's easier to place the blame on his unhappiness on missing Shannon, instead of admitting that it's his own choices that are making him unhappy.

Another theme of this episode is internalized biases and misunderstanding the current situation due to being blinded by the past. Maddie misses crucial details of her call with Catherine because she was looking at it with too much bias about her own situation with Doug. Eddie also misremembers his past with Shannon, but instead of recognizing his mistake like Maddie, and trying to look at it objectively, Eddie lets that bias from the past effect his current decisions, which is already resulting in a mistake by cheating with Kim and will likely result in more mistakes the rest of this season.

Maddie heard what she expected to hear. Eddie is seeing in Kim what he expects to see from Shannon. Both lead to really bad outcomes.

Eddie goes back to find Kim/Shannon, and they meet. She looks similar but not really the same (btw, kudos to the makeup team, wow). She has similar facial expressions (nose scrunches, giggles, etc.) and she asks him if he's looking for something specific. And the answer is yes, he's looking for Shannon in Kim, just as he was looking for Shannon in Marisol and Ana.

This is very obviously a sexual innuendo, which is interesting because their first real interaction is showing more of a "sexual" chemistry, than anything really romantic, or soul-connecting. It's a clear harkening back to how Eddie would use sex as a way to stop fights between himself and Shannon. It's also one of Eddie's biggest distancing tools. He used sex to distance himself from Shannon and from Marisol, as an excuse to not address problems, or just simply to not get to know them. And given that Eddie was having sexual dysfunction issues in his last major episode, this is meant to provide a juxtaposition to that. Sort of a "Hey look Eddie couldn't get it up for Marisol the Nun but he can get it up for the Shannon look-alike". On the surface, this might be to show us that Eddie really only has sexual chemistry with Shannon, but if you look below the surface even a little bit, you'll realize that his sexual relationship with Shannon was also deeply dysfunctional, but in its own way.

The answer is no. Eddie does not trust Kim because she's a stranger, but this line is meant to remind us that Eddie very much DID NOT trust Shannon for most of her arc in season 2 and even up until her death. It's a callback to the line in season 2 Merry Ex-Mas where Eddie says he "forgives Shannon but doesn't trust her" and Shannon says something along the lines of "Eddie trusting her enough to have sex with her, but not enough to let her see her own son". Kim is hitting all the lines that are meant to remind Eddie of rose colored "Good times" but are meant to remind us, the audience, of all the issues he had with Shannon.

This moment of Eddie and Shannon on the beach is meant to represent Eddie's "happiest" moment on-screen with Shannon when she was alive. Eddie remembers it that way, as kissing Shannon and finally having his family back together. But in actuality, it was the start of the end for them. Shannon thought she was pregnant, paralleling the time when they accidentally got pregnant as teens and both of them had to put their lives on hold and commit to a marriage that might not have been the ultimate right choice for them. If any of you remember, this is also the moment where Eddie and "signs" and the "universe" are connected for the first time. Eddie asks for a sign, and Shannon says she's pregnant. In my personal opinion, this was supposed to be a sign for Eddie to not get back together with her, given how traumatic it was the first time around, but he ignores it and tries to push down his feelings. "Life is like a vat of chocolate, it pulls you down but it's comfortable". And when Shannon very clearly stated she wanted a divorce, Eddie did not really seem to accept it...and the universe took Shannon away permanently. (Again, I want to reiterate this is all about fiction I'm talking about here not irl, okay? This does not apply to real life) The universe tried to warn Eddie, to bring him a sign, and when he ignored it, as he always does, the universe decided it needed to take Shannon away permanently.

And now here we are again, 6 years later, with Eddie ignoring ALL the signs over and over and over, and setting about down this path with Marisol that literally everyone knows will not make Eddie happy, and what does the universe do? It throws him the biggest wrench it could by bringing someone who looks/acts like Shannon back into his life. Kim was brought in by the universe (the writers) to show Eddie that his relationship with Shannon was not as wonderful and amazing as he remembers it....and he ignores all of the signs yet a-fucking-gain. I get the feeling that this arc with Kim is going to end VERY. VERY. badly for Eddie. I think we should all be preparing ourselves for that.

Eddie is making active duplicitous choices here. He's lying about being in a relationship with someone else, lying about being a single dad. And it's not the first time he's said something like this (see the "taken for now" line in 7x04), further demonstrating how he's always had one foot out the door with Marisol.

I also want to point out that Eddie lying and deceiving Kim and cheating on Marisol is not meant to be the show saying "this is good! this is who Eddie's supposed to end up with!" The writers know how most people feel about cheating. Most people are 100% aware that cheating is morally wrong, and by Eddie making these decisions, they're not supposed to show that Eddie is inherently a cheater or a bad guy. He's acting OOC on purpose. The writers want us to see Eddie lying and cheating and want us to clock that Something is Very Very Very Wrong and that has to do with Eddie's romantic relationships, Shannon, his perception of Shannon, his perception of his past marriage, and his expectations of himself.

We, as an audience, are not supposed to be enjoying this. We're meant to be uncomfortable.

911 is doing something really interesting lately with their pointed use of Full First Names vs. Nicknames. When I heard this my first thought was actually of Ana and how cringe it was to hear her calling Eddie Edmundo all the time. Shannon actually never once called Eddie by his full name. If anything, Eddie calling himself Edmundo here, introducing himself by it, is once again supposed to trigger the audience's "Something Is Wrong Here" mode. I was also going to mention how this is also something a lot of people have felt with Tommy's constant use of "Evan" instead of Buck. Some people like it, some people don't, but everyone can acknowledge that it's odd and unusual.

Even as he's flirting with Kim, talking more about "stimulation", Eddie is holding an "S" for Shannon. I think when Kim told Eddie her name, a sharp K, very far away from the soft S of Shannon, it was a slight shock to him. If her name was something similar like Sherri or Sheila or something, Eddie could've lived in the fantasy more. Her name being Kim momentarily broke the illusion, hence him looking down at the S for Shannon.

Eddie is remembering the first time he slept with Shannon after she came back into his life while he's sitting at the table with Marisol, completely ignoring her. But not only that, as many people have pointed out, he's misremembering. The walls in the background are recent, with the new teal color and his new bed. Shannon's hair is a cross between dark and light, almost like a mix of Kim and Shannon, and--and this one rocked my world--they had sex right side up.

Many have pointed out how it's odd that Eddie and Marisol's sex scene harkened so similarly back to his one sex scene with Shannon, where they both ended up at the tail end of the bed, upside down. People have often discussed Eddie and his upside-down sex as a metaphor for unhealthy sexual connection, for misconnection, and right side up sex to be healthy sex. To find that he is thinking of him and Shannon in his memory of being right side up has been pointed out by others to be yet another example of Eddie's rose-colored memories of his past with Shannon. In his memory, he views his relationship and sexual relationship with Shannon as this Amazing and One of a Kind thing, hence the right-side-up sex, but in reality, it was upside down, it wasn't healthy.

He's looking at his relationship with Shannon through a veil of the present, chock full of regrets, would've/could've/should've's, and two almost-failed relationships. Not to mention that he literally was just having extreme sexual dysfunction with Marisol not even two episodes ago it's very likely that his remembering this passionate, voracious, unquenchable thirst for Shannon is also brought on by the fact that he's having sexual issues with Marisol. It might also be him wanting to remember that he does and did have desire for sex with women...as long as they're Shannon or reminding him of Shannon. This is not at all supposed to be something that is represented as healthy for Eddie, and I don't believe the show is trying to put across that message.

Eddie remembers his sex with Shannon, and when he decided to "bring Shannon home for Christmas". Even in this scene, the focus is not on the two of them as a couple. He doesn't talk about how much he missed her, or how it feels good to be close to her again. He talks about how he wants to reunite her and Christopher. "Santa" in this present day and age is bringing "Shannon" home for Christmas, by bringing Kim into Eddie's life.

Bringing it back to Maddie's storyline, with the Big Bad Kidnapper of this episode. He was encouraged by his sister to move across the country for a fresh start after his wife and baby left him due to his own abusive actions (assumed, but the sister did say they were "afraid of him"). We don't know too much of the details of this man's story, but it does show a clear parallel to Eddie too, with his wife leaving him to move across the country too (though she left their son with Eddie because obviously, Eddie's not abusive like this man). But the man's sister was hoping that this move would mean he would "stop looking for them". Eddie ends up doing the same thing with Shannon metaphorically. He never stops looking for her in all of his romantic relationships, hurting other women like Ana and Marisol, in the process.

The man is so clearly a parallel to Eddie but in the worst most devolved way. Eddie has been seeking out a Mom for Chris for years, even when Shannon was alive. It was never about Shannon, wanting her, loving her, needing her because he's so deeply in love with her. No, it was, and still is, always about the mother she could be for Chris. It's the same thing he did with Ana, and with Marisol. I'm not sure if this thing he's doing with Kim will eventually lead there too, or if it won't make it that far before it gets blown up in his face. But Kim cannot be a new mother for Chris, even if she wants to be. Christopher would clock that she looks like Shannon, and might feel betrayed, like Eddie is actively trying to replace Shannon, which I doubt Christopher would take well. So what is Eddie's endgame here? In my honest opinion, I don't think he has one. I think he's acting on pure emotional hurt, and desperately seeking out a balm, and not considering the consequences of his actions.

Just like that man was hit dead on with the literal consequences with the police, I think Eddie's gonna be hit HARD as a result of these mistakes. I feel like it might be something really bad, possibly involving Christopher. If "isolation" is going to become the thing he might have to contend with Christopher being really really angry with him in whatever way that takes form, and the rest of the firefam not being happy with him either. I think Eddie's going to be going through another arc similar to where he was emotionally in season 3a with the streetfighting arc.

Just how like the man who abducted her was a parallel to Eddie, Catherine herself is also a parallel to Eddie. She's clearly in pain, but she refuses drugs that will make her feel better. She feels she has to stay awake and endure the pain as a comeuppance, similar to how Eddie felt he had to endure his pain like a man because he deserved it. She feels her husband will hate her, just like how Eddie feared Shannon would hate him for what he did. He fears Shannon would never forgive him, but just like Catherine, even worse is the fact that Eddie has yet to ever forgive himself. No matter how many times people tell her it's not her fault, no matter how many times people tell Eddie he's a good father or a good person, they will never believe it. That guilt still rocks them, and for Eddie, it's been the monkey on his back every day LOONNGGG before Shannon even passed. Likely he's been dealing with it from the second he found out he got her pregnant. Even though Catherine's daughter was returned to her, she will still likely feel guilty, just as Eddie's guilt has lingered and festered and turned to rot the longer it's gone unchecked.

It'll only be once Eddie can let go of that guilt, let go of Shannon, and forgive himself, will he ever be able to actually start healing, and making the right choices for himself.

Many people have pointed out how this parallels the scene in 3x03 with Christopher and Eddie coming to Buck's house after the tsunami. That was a moment where Buck was feeling "lost at sea" and Eddie and Chris came in to be his "life raft that gets you home." And now Eddie's the one lost at sea. He thinks he has to find Shannon when really all he really needs is here with Buck and Chris. Eddie and Chris are "late", but eventually, they will find their way home to Buck.

Have y'all ever heard the phrase "where there's smoke, there's fire"? It means that if there's a rumor or something being said about a topic, there must be some back story/truth in it. It's what I point out every time the show "jokes" about Eddie's sexuality or lack thereof to women, Eddie ready to leave Marisol, etc. They're in the script because there's a kernel of truth to them, even if it's still nebulous (or smoky) at the moment.

Additionally, Buck is making a new lasagna recipe (a metaphor for his new found bisexuality and MM relationship with Tommy) and something about it is not working. In the same way that I've been theorizing that there is misalingment in his relationship with Tommy, we're now seeing that lasagna (like in 6x01 where the couch theory was introduced) is yet another metaphor for Buck's relationships. He had 3 at that point in time (as well as 3 failed attempts at lasagna) and now he's here in a new relationship, and something about it isn't working, he just doesn't know what. I'll reiterate, it's not the bisexuality, but rather the person he's in a relationship with. This being told once again to Eddie, in Buck's kitchen, with Chris present, is driving home the point once again.

Eddie, on the other hand, is aligned with Buck. He knew ahead of time to order a pizza for them. This isn't usual, given that Buck's a good cook, and has cooked for Chris and Eddie many times. Eddie being attuned to Buck right now is meant to show that he can sense these things about Buck, even when it's not conscious.

"To be seen… to be found… isn't that what we're all searching for?"

Buck assumes Eddie's meeting with Marisol, and Eddie does not correct him. I've seen other people mention how this feels like Eddie is cheating on Buck, and not really on Marisol, and in my opinion, that all comes down to who is Eddie more emotionally intimate with. He already feels super disconnected to Marisol, even more so in this episode, but we've spent the first half of this season establishing how Buck and Eddie are closer than ever. So Eddie lying to Buck feels like the real cheating here, because Eddie has only ever given himself fully to Buck, in all his messed up glory. He's never given that to Marisol, or Ana. And he most definitely never gave that to Shannon.

Side note, I loved the cologne line because it implies that Buck knows how Eddie smells, and that smelling him now is something Buck is enjoying. Him saying they won't wait up for Eddie further cements the domesticity of the scene. Buck has a full relationship with Chris outside of Eddie, but they also have a strongly established bond all three of them. In an episode where Eddie assumes Marisol must love smores despite her never having tried one, Eddie inherently knows that Buck's struggling with lasagna and needs to order a pizza.

Eddie and Buck's flirting--because that's what it is-- feels natural. More so than the flirting with Marisol in the beginning of the episode, and more so than with Kim-Not-Shannon that was moored down by the reality that Eddie is severely projecting all of his major issues onto her. Buck and Eddie have an easy rapport filled with mutual support, inside jokes, gentle ribbing, synchronicity and above all, friendship and trust. THAT is why the betrayal of Eddie with Kim only a few moments later feels so stark and like a huge blow to the audience.

Eddie sees Kim, and all he sees is Shannon's face, but I have to give MASSIVE kudos to the hair, costume, and makeup department here because they couldn't make Kim look ANY more starkly different from Shannon. In the scenes at the store, Kim is dressed more professionally, in lighter more inviting colors. And then here, when Kim can take off the customer service mask, and be fully herself, we see that she dresses in darker clothing, pants, and jackets with her hair up in almost an alternative-punk style. It's a MASSIVE contrast to Shannon who was almost always dressed in lighter, warmer colors, in shades of orange, yellow, and warm pinks, with minimal makeup and long flowy dresses or soft sweaters. Shannon's hair was almost always down and flowing around her face with her bangs. Kim's hair is completely up, totally out of her face in a severe bun look, without any bangs. She could not look father from Shannon if she tried. And yet, Eddie is not seeing Kim, he's not seeing the individual woman who's probably really lovely, the woman he's inherently hurting by using her to be reminded of his dead wife. No, all he sees is Shannon, and he's 100% willing to tank his whole life just to get a bit of that feeling back.

Eddie is on his way towards rock bottom, and this episode is only getting started. The glass is going to shatter extremely hard, and I worry for what the consequences will be for Eddie for all this, because there's no way he's escaping this without deep cuts. He will likely lose Marisol and Kim in one fell swoop. As for Buck, Chris and the rest of the 118, that's yet to be seen. But we know Eddie's parents show back up later on, so they could be coming in with the steel chair, likely to hit Eddie harder when he's already down. After all, the originator of "Don't drag him down with you, Eddie" is none other than Helena Diaz. This season is giving very strong season 3/4 vibes, and if that's the case, it's possible Helena and Ramon are going to pose a problem by the end of the season like they might've done in season 4 if things had gone as originally planned.

I'm worried, scared and excited to see how this ends up for Eddie. But I'm also hopeful. I see a light at the end of this tunnel. After all, it's always darkest just before dawn.

Thanks for reading my meta!

#911 abc #911 meta #buddie #buddie meta #eddie diaz #eddie diaz meta #season 7 #buck x eddie #meta

175 notes · View notes

gloomwitchwrites · 6 hours

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Congrats on 1k! Could you please do Simon Riley with SFW Alphabet. I need all the *feels* please! :)

Thank you! And I can certainly bring the feels.

Simon is such a complex and interesting character. I love reading and analyzing other peoples' headcanons about him. Everyone has a different take on the character, and this bit is just me rambling. Thanks for sending the request in!

Word Count: 1.3k

1k Follower Event Rules

SFW Alphabet Template

ao3 // taglist // 1k follower event masterlist // main masterlist

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

For Simon to show affection, there must be trust. Whether a friend or lover, Simon needs time to build a solid relationship with someone before he drops some of those walls. If he’s cracking jokes with you, you have Simon’s respect and trust. Simon isn’t a gift giver, but he does listen, which is his greatest strength. His form of affection is listening to you mention something off-handedly, and then doing the thing that you need without asking.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Simon would be an awesome best friend, but getting there would take time. Those barriers need to come down first. How would a friendship start? By you adopting him as your new best friend without him having a say. Just look at how his relationship starts with Soap. I don’t think I need to say more.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Simon enjoys cuddles with a romantic partner. Does he enjoy it all the time? No. Not really. He’s more of a “use me as a pillow and I won’t move” sort of person, but after falling asleep? He’ll curl up next to you immediately.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Simon absolutely wants to settle down but isn’t particularly worried about when. Just because he wears a mask, is lethal in the field, and has trauma doesn’t mean he doesn’t want the things that come with settling down. He knows he can be a better partner and a better father than what he grew up with. Simon is immaculate in the field, and I can’t see him not bringing that into his everyday life. Cleaning is a chore to him but he’s efficient. Cooking is hit or miss. Terrible or just okay at most things, but he’s particularly good at a few things.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

Quick and blunt. Simon doesn’t mince words. He’s to the point, even if it hurts him (or you).

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Simon longs for commitment. He needs trust to build friendship and then a relationship beyond that. How quick? That depends. Simon will either know right away or it might dawn on him suddenly.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Simon knows when and how to be gentle. Sure, he’s a beast of a man, but there is a reason he often stands back and listens before speaking. This man processes information quickly and knows what needs to happen depending on the situation. That doesn’t mean he always gets it right. Physically, not a problem. Emotionally, Simon struggles sometimes with making the correct call.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Not a hugger. Hates hugs. If Simon is hugging you, you’ve won.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Quickly, if Simon knows what he wants. Simon will say it deliberately, but it might slip during a moment of passion.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Simon can get jealous but only when he thinks someone is moving in on what he believes is his. If this is a romantic partner, that jealousy isn’t directed at them but at the person trying to weasel their way in.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Passionate. Rough. All-consuming. Simon likes kissing the palm of your hand or the inside of your wrist. He loves it when you trail kisses down his neck.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He’s good with kids. Simon is the guy at the function that all the kids climb and jump on because he doesn’t put up a fuss. He’s a big tree for them to hang on. Outwardly, he might seem annoyed, but Simon enjoys it.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Depends. If there are things to do Simon will easily fall into routine. If there is nothing planned for the day, Simon loves a lazy, cozy morning.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

When he’s not working, Simon enjoys his sleep. He’d be the one trying to drag you to bed. If you’re with him, he doesn’t want to sleep alone.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Simon is slow to reveal things. Trust takes time with him, and even those he deeply trusts don’t know everything about him. For Simon, it depends on the person. He trusts Soap and Gaz, but he’d not going to dump his entire history on them. Price, for example, likely knows a lot more. If Simon is dating someone or married, that too will likely be different.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Simon is not quick to anger. Even in the field he’s mostly a calm cucumber with a bit of spicy pickling when he wants to appear intimidating. For Simon to get angry—like actually angry—there has to be a betrayal of some kind.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Simon doesn’t forget anything. He listens, he hears, he processes, and makes decisions. He considers everything important and if he cares about you, what you say matters. He’d remember your coffee order, the birthdays of your immediate family members, and even the things you say in passing.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Simon’s favorite moment in your relationship is when you said “I love you” back to him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

Extremely protective. Because of his military career, Simon views threats differently from the average person. Old enemies might come circling back, but he’s more worried about your personal safety. He’s likely to make sure you’re hammering something in the wall correctly than watching your every step.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Tons of effort to the point it almost appears seamless to you. I keep stating this over and over again, but Simon is a listener. He keeps tracks of everything in his head, especially dates and any anniversaries, and knows what to gift you because he’ll hear something you mention off-handedly and then just present it like it’s not a big deal. Every day tasks are not an issue for him. If something needs done, Simon does it and you don’t need to make him a “list.” Nah. Simon sees a task and completes it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Might shut down if he feels cornered or attacked. Will not listen if you try to give him directions and he’s the one driving. Smoking just to keep his hands occupied.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Simon is not vain. He is cocky, and he knows he’s attractive, but he doesn’t obsess over it. Skincare routine? Yes, but it’s simple.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Partially. Simon is used to being alone and working alone. That isn’t new for him.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Major sweet tooth. Loves chocolate cake.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Dishonesty. Lack of accountability.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Simon is a dead body in bed. When he’s asleep, you cannot move him, and he tends to spread out.

taglist:

@glassgulls @km-ffluv @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @spicyspicyliving

@childofyuggoth @miaraei @coffeecaketornado @wren5650 @aykxz98

@kayden666 @unhinged-reader-36 @pearljamislife @miss-mistinguett @keiva1000

@cherryofdeath @pertinentpostmortem @enfppuff @cinnabeanz @berarenado

@rogerrhqpsody @josephquinnschesthair @saoirse06 @therealbloom @ninman82

@no-oneelsebutnsu @marispunk @thewulf @lxblm @ferns-fics

@ooldcardigan @beebeechaos @enarien @xxkay15xx @sw33tsnow

@kessi-21 @makayla-666 @lifes-project @burn1ngw00d @heeheehoohoohahahihi

@lulurubberduckie @ravenpoe67 @jade1605 @contractedcriteria @lovely-ateez

@gingergirl06 @kidd3ath @leed-bbg @blackhawkfanatic @suhmie

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ohbabydollie · 1 day

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currently imagining a jaded, deadpan lit teacher!schlatt. super intelligent, incredible teacher that all his students adore and love to learn from, but they all swear to god they’ve never seen him smile once

then comes along absolute ray of sunshine teacher!y/n, probably teaching some kind of fine art, and it is just like a moth to a flame. he cannot stay away from you!

you meet for the first time in the teacher’s lounge and he’s a little taken aback, he doesn’t know what it is about you but something makes his little brain flip a switch and it’s all sunshine and rainbows. not much longer after that, you start becoming friends, sharing cool little things about your interests or the subjects you teach.

he does a pretty good job of hiding these feelings from the kids, just because he wants to keep that side of him private from his students, but one day he slips up. you sneak in during a class of his during your free period to return a book he recommended to you. when you walked out, he had no idea that he was smiling but apparently the students noticed.

“mr. schlatt, were you just smiling?”

“finish your essay.”

also am i allowed to be 🥥 anon

ofc, welcome 🥥 anon

before you came along schlatt was the most obviously exhausted and stressed teacher, but his students loved him.

from stapling mcdonald’s job applications on failed tests to talking about his cats. his students very clearly loved him and adored him, but he just seemed so sad in a way, especially when one of them got him to talk about his dating life.

single, with multiple failed dates under his belt

then you transferred to the school after the last art teacher had quit.

he had heard about you from his students, the new young single art teacher making sure to emphasize on the single part, but he always told them to focus on getting their assignment done over focusing on the teachers dating lives.

he really didn’t care for you, probably would be done in a few weeks if you couldn’t handle how rowdy and rough some of these kids could be. he gave you a month at best.

then you came into the teacher’s lounge getting snack after snack out of the vending machine as he watched in silence. not out of judgement, but he was just mesmerized completely

the concentration on your face as you punched in number after number watching the snacks fall before grabbing a cardboard box to place it all in was all so adorable to him, he didn’t even realize he had been staring until you looked over at him with a big smile.

“hi, i don’t believe we’ve met!” you chirp, “i’m y/n the new art teacher” you say extending out a hand for him to shake. he politely takes it, giving you a semi-awkward smile

“i’m jay, i teach english in b103” he says feeling himself turn red

“oh wow! i’m only down the hall from you, my room is c102” you say parting from the hand shake and picking up your box “well i’ll see you around” you say pushing the door open

and just like that you were gone as soon as you came

and schlatt had a new goal in mind, you

the next period he had came back better than ever. his normally deadpan and tired voice had more excitement and life to it and his students noticed for sure, waiting until the lesson was over to pry into him, but they all got the same response.

“jus added a shot of expresó into my coffee this mornin” he says starting to grade the assignments from his last class.

they had assumed that was it, nothing more to it until the next week where he seemed to be radiating with joy, when they pried into him again all he said was, “jus had some coffee from my favorite spot this mornin, nothin else”

he hadn’t mentioned it was with you.

over the next few months they noticed more and more change, fixing his hair more often, wearing his nicer clothes and whatever he could to look better.

as a student asked “so who’s the lucky lady?”

you had walked in holding a book, causing the room to fall silent. you practically floated to his desk as everyone watched you.

“hey, thanks for letting me borrow your copy, it was really good” you say handing him the book

“oh..it’s no problem, anytime” he says softly as you smile

“ ‘kay, well i’ll see you later, oh and your glasses are a little smudged” you say heading to leave as he watches in awe.

once you’re out, he’s taking off his glasses, smiling to himself with a small chuckle as he cleans them off, basking in the moment, completely forgetting his students were there until someone speaks up.

“mr. schlatt, are you smiling?” he asks teasingly before schlatt immediately drops the smile and goes deadpan again

“finish your assignment before i fail you”

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff #🥥 anon

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brucewaynehater101 · 2 days

Note

I do have a few more examples! Tim offers Mister Freeze unlimited funding to help his wife on the condition that he sometimes helps with other projects. He hires Harvey Dent to be his personal lawyer (not that he needs one). Blood Sport, Death Stroke, Dead Shot, and many other mercenaries are hired to "break into" Drake Industries to hunt down and "kill" Tim or "steal" important information in order to test his companies defenses and tell him exactly how they got in so that he can patch any holes. He hires one to break in every 2 to 3 months but never the same person in a year. Like if he uses Deathstroke in August he can't use him again until January.

Tim also doesn't want to force these rouges to move far away from their homes so he opens up branches in Metropolis, Central City, Star City, and others too. Anywhere he opens an office for Drake Industries, crime rate always plummets thanks to him hiring all the Henchmen and giving them stable jobs that pay at minimum double the minimum wage of the area plus really good health insurance and other benefits. They even have dental and 4 months paid maternity *and* paternity leave! The desk work may not be as exciting as their previous jobs but boy is it safer.

Also I would like to make one note. DI is one of the few major cooperations in America that openly does *not* donate to the Jusitce Leauge. Tim is still salty about Bruce Quest and during an interview where someone asked how much he donates to them, Tim said, "oh I don't. At all. It's not that I don't believe in them, I do, uts just. There's already so many places funding them they don't need me. But you know who does? The younger generation of heroes. Did you know that The Teen Titans only get funding through the Justice Leauge? I don't think that's very fair so I donate to them. I donate to Young Justice. I track down and do research on dozens of younger heroes who aren't part of any organization and check to make sure they're doing good in their community and then I directly donate to them. Superheroing is expensive, just look how much the JL spends on it! Could you imagine? Being fresh out of high-school, working a minimum wage job, and having to make your own suit and gadgets while also paying for *college*? The stories I have heard from some of them! This one poor kid, he told me that he had to use this roll of regular fabric he found in a dumpster because buying a roll was to expensive! Of course I sent him to a super hero tailor on my own dime, after all he just wanted to help his community saving kittens from trees and stopping local mugging. But still, small heroes like him are important. After all, didn't Superman start by saving cats from trees? Didn't Green Arrow start by stopping a mugging? Didn't Batman himself start by stopping a purse snatching? You never know who the next big hero will be in 5 or ten years."

I might have gotten a bit to into that rant. Listen. Listen this is a subject close to my heart. Small Time Heroes Are Important!

My gods, I love this so so much. You combined two tropes I love: Tim using Business to fund social programs/decrease crime/hire ex felons and criminals, and Tim turning his back on the JL after the BruceQuest.

Added with Tim funding small time heroes???? This is phenomenal

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!!#dc au

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happilysmythe · 2 days

Text

❥ 𝙥 𝙥𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧

trent frederic.

word count: 4.2k

warning: explicit content

"she wet in the shower" — gunna

A/N: this was an anonymous request for trent smut w/ a college student. so of course, i had to add some angst—makes it more fun. not to mention how much i love him, so who am i to deny it?! hope you enjoy! :)

- - -

“Do you think you’ll be able to come out soon?”

Trent’s hopeful tone of voice rang through the phone as you held it up to your ear, sitting comfortably in the quiet bedroom of your apartment. A pang of guilt washed over you. You already knew the answer, and it wasn’t the one he was looking for.

He and you first met when you were a freshman in college. He was a sophomore. You started dating quickly after. Now, you were a senior and he was playing in the NHL halfway across the country. But you lived in Wisconsin, so it wasn’t often that you got to see each other. It was difficult for him to visit during the team’s breaks, especially when the rest of his family was based in St. Louis. And you, on the other hand, were far too busy with work and school to make the extensive trips out.

“I don’t think so,” you finally sighed, pulling your knees into your chest. “I’ve been so busy, and I just—fuck, I miss you, but I can’t. And I’m so tight on money right now.”

“I’ll pay for it,” he pushed.

“Trent, I can’t,” you frowned, resting your chin on your knee. “Believe me—if I could, I’d already be there by now. It’s just…too much.”

A beat of silence followed, and you could practically picture the dejected look on his face. You knew he was still there—the soft noise of his breathing that came through the receiver told you so—but he waited to speak. He was running through any possible solutions in his head, yet not a single one was worthy of voicing.

“I want to see you,” he finally spoke. “I’m sick of only talking to you through the goddamned phone. It feels like this isn’t even real anymore.”

“Not real?” you asked, lips parted in shock. “Trent, what part of this isn’t real?”

“I—I don’t know. Look, I,” he breathed, “it’s just hard to watch all of the guys have their girlfriends here while mine is eleven hundred miles away and has barely even met any of them, alright?”

“Oh,” you spoke quietly, nodding your head as you took in his words. “So that’s it, huh? That’s the problem, isn’t it?” You fell back against your headboard, “You finally admit it, then. It’s because I’m not like them.”

“I never—”

“Oh, save it, Trent!” you shouted. “We knew this was what it would be like when the time came and we agreed to stay together. We agreed to make it work. Do you have any idea how much I’ve sacrificed to even be able to visit and see you when I do?”

You swallowed thickly, “I have juggled so many things in the past year and all I wanted was a little bit of sympathy from you. Christ’s sake, Trent, I know it sucks. I know, okay? But I am trying so goddamn hard to find the time to just talk to you like this right now!”

“That’s my whole point,” he retorted firmly, his voice irritated. “It’s like I never see you anymore. And when I come back, I have to decide between seeing you or my family, and you always make me choose them. So it’s pretty fucking frustrating to see everyone else have their girlfriends or their wives there when you barely get to talk to yours,” he took a breath. “This barely feels like anything anymore.”

“What, so you’re just going to act like I’ve never done anything for you? Like I haven’t been working day in and day out to make as much time for you as I can? I did everything for you when you still went to school here and this is the thanks I get?” you firmly stood your ground. “Yes, Trent, I know I’m not there. I know that. And god, I miss you more than anything—”

“Then come.”

“Jesus Christ, Trent, I can’t!”

You shook your head and sat up on your bed once more. You could only be thankful that you lived alone in your off-campus apartment, with all the back and forth you were having. “You can’t come here, and I can’t go there. That was the understanding when we agreed to make things work,” you lectured. “And trust me, it hurts me too. Fuck, it hurts to see people I don’t even know with their boyfriends. So don’t act like you’re the only one who’s hurting from this.”

“If this is making it work, then I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Trent—”

“I’m just,” he shook his head, “god, I’m tired of this.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the fear of what he’d say next slowly beginning to tear at your heartstrings. Although you hadn’t seen much of each other in recent years, Trent meant the world to you. He’d done just about everything in his power to keep you happy before he moved. And even after, he tried to see you as much as he could; as much as time would allow.

So the thought of what he might’ve been getting at made you sick to your stomach.

“You cannot put this on me,” you told him through the phone, fingers tightly gripped around the metal as if dropping it would make you lose him for good. “You have no. Right,” you swallowed, nostrils flared and teeth gritted. “It’s so fucking unfair.”

“You know what’s unfair?” His question lingered in the air, and you kept your mouth shut. It wasn’t something that you were meant to answer. So you waited.

“Being forgotten.”

And that was your final straw.

“Fuck you,” you sobbed, a tear cascading down your cheek. “If this whole long-distance thing wasn’t enough for you, then you should’ve just broken it off before.”

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not the one that left you, Trent.”

Your phone was face down on the bed almost instantly after you hung up. Any emotions you were desperately trying to suppress came to the surface, bringing you to tears as you buried your face into your knees. It all finally came to a head, and you couldn’t bear the outcome. Heavy sobs left your lips, pried relentlessly from your throat as guilt ripped through you. Your body refused to let up for even a second; not until every last drop of emotion was ripped from you.

And finally, once it was, you lay restless in your bed until morning, mind unable to escape the intruding idea of never seeing him again.

Hours turned into days, days into weeks of not hearing from him. Since that night, you began to work yourself harder, picking up hours to fill up the time you’d be alone. You couldn’t let yourself think about it, or else you’d break.

It had been almost a month since. You heard a knock on your door as you were headed for the bathroom, about to shower after another long shift. You were prepared for it to be another one of your friends. They’d been showing up at your door for days, trying to break you out of your funk, which only irritated you further. You sighed and tightened your robe, then walked to the door and swiftly opened it.

“For the last time, I’m fine—”

It wasn’t your friends.

Surprise laced your expression. Trent was standing on the other side of the doorway, hands stuffed into his pockets. His body was tense as he stood silently.

“Trent,” you finally whispered.

He stepped closer, eyes boring into yours when your head tilted back to look at him. His lips parted to speak, but you gave him no such chance when you threw your arms around him. Any emotions that you’d suppressed immediately surfaced, tears streaming down your cheeks as you buried your face into his chest.

“Shh,” he cooed, hands rubbing gently up and down your back.

His hand came up to your cheek when you pulled back, using his thumb to gently wipe it dry. The warmth of his touch radiated through the skin and you felt a sense of familiarity, of comfort being in his hold again.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried softly, your arms tightening around his midsection.

“God, no, don’t,” he hesitated, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, “please, don’t apologize. None of this is your fault.”

He frowned, “It’s mine. I shouldn’t have acted like such a baby.”

“But I just got angry. I didn’t even consider how you’d—”

“Hey,” he sternly interrupted, pulling your body into his. “This was on me. I knew how busy you’d be when we decided to stay together. I was upset that I couldn’t see you and I blamed you for that,” he breathed. “You didn’t deserve that. Not after everything you’ve done to make this work. I didn’t do my part.”

Another tear fell from your eye, burning the skin in its path. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel like this wasn’t real anymore,” you frowned.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just…dumb.”

“And I blamed you for leaving when you had no choice.”

He sighed deeply, urging your head to his chest. “It’s only a month left until you’re out, right?” he asked and you nodded, confirming his inquiry. “Okay. So we only have to tough out one more month of this…And then it’s over.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” you finally spoke, leaning into him. “I am, too.”

You finally leaned up to kiss him and he quickly reciprocated, pulling your chest flush against his. His head craned to the side, deepening the kiss and turning it into something more than just making up lost time. You jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. He hummed against your lips, fingers gripping the underside of your thighs to support your weight.

“I was about to,” you muttered between kisses, “shower.”

“Explains the robe.”

He began walking forward, carrying you down the hallway as you remained perched on his waist. The soft material of the robe slid off of your thighs, exposing them to the cool air and allowing you to feel his bare palms around them. The ring that sat on his right index finger dug into the soft skin as he reached the door to your bathroom.

“Got room for one more?” he teased as he lowered you to your feet.

“Maybe,” you giggled in response, hands resting atop his shoulders. “Who’s asking?”

His fingers toyed with the belt on your robe, slowly beginning to loosen it around your waist. He lowered his head, forehead nearly touching yours, and softened his voice, “Someone who hasn’t been alone with his girlfriend in a long time.”

“Hm,” you considered, fingers dancing along the back of his neck, “I think something can be arranged, then.”

The robe’s soft fabric fell open as he let go and brought his hands to his shirt, removing it in one go. With that, you slipped the rest off and stepped into the shower, then quickly turned on the water as he rid himself of the rest of his clothing. As you waited, you shampooed your hair, thoroughly rinsing it out and basking in the warmth of the water over you.

It wasn’t long before the curtain opened and in stepped Trent, who had discarded all but his silver chain, including the ring he wore just moments before.

“God, have you gotten bigger?” you asked, hands traveling up his arms. “Or has it been that long?”

“Maybe you’ve just gotten smaller.”

You rolled your eyes promptly, chuckling softly before leaning up to kiss him again, allowing the hot water to cascade slowly down your back. You flipped your bodies around and his hair grew darker as it slowly dampened, curls dissipating as they flattened atop his head. You were quick to run your hands along his upper body, palms grazing the skin of his chest down to his stomach. Your touch earned a groan of approval from his lips as you and your body swiftly moved down.

Down to your knees, even, right in front of him.

A few soft, teasing kisses were pressed to his tip before you drew his cock into your warm mouth. A large hand snaked into your hair, roughly gripping the wet strands as he turned just slightly, back now facing the wall. The hot water coated his body, allowing your lips to glide smoothly along his length, teeth lightly grazing the skin.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he drawled, hand setting your pace as the steam from the water rose up around you.

Slowly, he began to pump his hips, tip hitting the back of your throat with each gentle thrust. His head drew back, pressing against the cool, wet tile as he sucked air through his teeth. Your nose nearly came into contact with his pubic bone as you took as much of him as your mouth would allow. But as much as he would’ve wanted to, he refrained from forcing you down.

Instead, he relished in the feeling of your pretty little mouth wrapped around his cock again for the first time in months.

Deep breaths left his mouth in the form of groans, his lips parted and face contorting with pleasure. Soon his head was off the wall again as he looked down, driven wild by the sight before him—his girlfriend on her knees in front of him, looking back up at him through tattered lashes, sporting stains of mascara that ran down her cheeks.

It was nearly enough to send him over, and you felt him growing more tense. The grip on your hair tightened as he sped up your pace just slightly, a choked moan escaping your lips and humming against his skin. His free hand darted out and pressed firmly against the fogged glass door, aiding him in maintaining any sort of composure he could conjure up.

Just as he was about to warn you of how close he was, you slid him out of your mouth. When your eyes flitted up, they were met with his disapproving glance, chest rising and falling as he breathed deeply.

“Why did you stop?”

“To irritate you,” you scrunched your nose. “But mostly to tease you.”

Light kisses were intricately pressed to his tip, the action just perfectly denying him enough sensation to fulfill his needs. But enough to make him ache with want, with need; the need of release. Of breaking the taut line holding him together. He was on the brink, and you knew it, but you were denying him.

How cruel.

Maybe it was a form of payback for the argument he started a few weeks before. For making you think you were broken up for all that time. Something like that, he convinced himself. All he knew was that you had every intention of making him wait, and he had no choice but to accept it.

“Mm,” you hummed, the fingers of one hand curling around his length and the others around his thigh as your lips trailed the same torturous kisses down to the base and back up. His hand brushed through the dripping wet strands of dark ginger hair atop his head, feet planted deeply into the floor below him.

Unfortunately for you, he wasn’t the only one who craved his release. And fortunately for him, you were finally willing to give him the satisfaction.

So you drew just the head back into your warm mouth, tongue swirling around the swollen area tactfully. Soft lips glided along his skin as you slid them further down on him, and the line finally snapped like a twig. The aftermath flooded your senses, his taste gathering on your tongue as the sound of his groans filled your ears.

And his traces went smoothly down your throat with a prompt swallow.

“Fuck,” he finally managed, eyes following you as you rose to your feet.

“That,” you started, licking the remainder from the corner of your mouth, “was for that phone call.”

“Yeah?” he asked, a smirk settling in on his face.

“Mhm,” was your sharp-tongued response, bringing a grin to his lips. You reached for the conditioner, “And you deserved it.”

He nodded as you squeezed a bit into your hand, afterward lathering it in your hair. He brought his hands up to your head and tilted it back, using his fingers to rinse out the cream gently.

“Maybe I did,” Trent hoisted you up, an involuntary gasp falling from your lips.

“—But now it’s my turn.”

Your back pressed against the cool tile as he turned your bodies to the side, water now hitting him at an angle as he pinned you up. You breathed out sharply from the force at which you hit the wall, lips parting as your gaze fell on his grin-inhabited face.

The heat formed beads of sweat on both you and Trent’s foreheads, mixing with the hot water as it continued to fall behind his body. He leaned up and connected his lips with yours, a hand running through your equally wet strands before sliding down your tense figure. The other locked fingers with your own and roughly pressed the back of your hand against the tile above your head, drawing a needy moan from your throat.

Your free hand slid up his front and came into contact with the cold, wet metal of his chain. God, you loved it. And he knew it, which was why he never took it off at moments like this; whether it was the tag tapping against your cheek as he thrust into you or it pressing into your skin as your back arched against him, or even just the sight of it poking out from under his shirts, it set you ablaze, similar to many other things about him. Like his hair. Or his hands.

Or the head of his cock as it dragged along your soaked folds, teasing you until you begged for more.

Which, oddly enough, was exactly what was happening to you then.

“Trent—fuck,” the words weakly fell, “please.”

His lips were at your neck, working the soft, damp skin just as you did to his body just minutes before, only now the added pressure of him at your entrance came into play.

“What is it, hm?” he mumbled, trailing down to your collarbones and back up.

“Need to feel you,” you breathed heavily, “now.”

Lips stretched into a grin against your skin just before he pushed himself into you, allowing you to sink down onto him properly. Your hands quickly lifted and tenaciously gripped his shoulders for stability. His head lifted from your neck and fell back, mouth open as he exhaled deeply from the pressure of you enveloping him. He was hardening at an unfaltering rate from the sensation, and his mind was running a mile a minute.

Because no effort he made to relieve himself when he was alone could ever replace the feeling of your inner walls constricting around him.

And fuck, did he miss that feeling.

Finally, your boyfriend was buried inside you again. Finally, he was stretching you out again, occupying every last inch of space that your body would allow. The feeling was all too familiar, but that was what you loved most; how perfectly he fit you, and how it was still able to make you see stars, regardless of how many times you’d felt it before.

His hips instantly moved in a controlled rhythm, leaving no time to exchange pleasantries. Hard thrusts drove your vulnerable body up the wall, large hands now having moved to your hips, fingers pressing firmly into the wet skin.

He wasn’t going to waste any time taking things slower, softer as he normally would. Oh, no—there was no time for that. He needed you oh, so desperately at that moment—to take you. Hard. Fast. That’s what months of deprivation did to a guy like him; a guy who hadn’t felt the touch of his girlfriend in so long that it hurt.

Luckily for him, he wasn’t the only one starving with want.

So the payoff was all the sweeter for the both of you as each torturous thrust forced the tip of his strained, desperate cock to brush just against the right spot within you. Various expletives filled the fogged air of the bathroom, sounding in the form of your weakened voice. Nail-shaped craters formed on the skin of his back while he roughly pistoned his hips forward and back, relentlessly pushing your back against the slick wall behind you.

“So glad you live alone and not on that fucking school ground,” he mumbled, pressing kisses to your exposed shoulder.

Usually, he was more gentle with you, and you’d grown accustomed to that. You liked it that way. But you couldn’t deny how much you loved, in contradiction, the times he decided that gentle wasn’t enough. That it simply wouldn’t do. When all he could think of was the burning desire to pin you to the wall and fuck you dumb with pleasure because he was so damn starved from not seeing you as often as he should. Because he knew better than anyone else that you could take it.

You’d no doubt have prints on your back from the incessant pressure of him pressing you against the tile behind you, and you briefly considered the thought. It left your mind quicker than it came, however, because it wouldn’t be the only thing left behind on your body from the exchange that night.

They’d pair nicely with the marks that extended from your neck to your collarbones.

“Close, Trent,” you muttered, head falling forward and resting atop his shoulder. “I’m…fuck, I’m close.”

A phrase that had become so familiar to him, so routine, as if it were some sort of perverted Bible verse you’d been trained to memorize. One that he’d never get sick of hearing because he knew that every time he was the reason for it.

Of course, you didn’t have to say it, because he already knew you were there. And if you weren’t, someone ought to have explained to him why you felt so tight, all of a sudden.

“Come on, baby,” the words rolled off his tongue languidly, “let go.”

So you did, clenching around him and crying out with a weakness that laced your voice. White hot pleasure surged through your body as he fucked you through it, his thick cock continuing to provide you more pleasure with each calculated thrust than any store-bought substitute could manage. Calloused fingers grasped urgently at the swell of your hips, the hold on you firm enough to keep you stable as you shattered around him for what felt like the first time in years.

Not a moment was wasted before ropes of hot liquid emptied into your stomach, thoroughly coating your waiting, sensitive inner walls. A satisfied groan exited his lips, the sound low in your ear, and you were sure it was the hottest thing you’d ever heard. A hand traveled up to his wet locks, pushing his head forward and allowing your mouth to envelope his in a deep kiss as his hips slowly, carefully came to a stop.

His tongue explored your mouth as if it had never been in its vicinity before, head tilting to give himself easier access. Meanwhile, he pulled out and began to lower you down, the muscles in his arms straining as they held you up for support. Your feet were once again planted on the wet, slippery floor of the shower as your spent body remained still between his large frame and the tiled wall behind you.

He pulled away and stepped back, sliding his hands off you as he turned the knob behind him to increase the water’s temperature. Then, he moved in the stream’s direction, arms reaching outward and pulling you toward him. Your back quickly came into contact with his firm chest, metal pressing against the now patterned skin as his hands placed themselves atop your slick skin.

A pair of soft lips peppered gentle kisses from your neck down to your shoulder, fingers rising to brush your hair away. The scalding hot water hit his back and extended to your exposed shoulder blades, effectively relaxing the tense muscles of your worked bodies. After all, it had been quite the bit of time since either of you had been in such a position.

“I love you,” he murmured, lips brushing against the skin of your ear as his hands ran down along your arms beside you.

Your head fell back against his chest, “I love you, too.”

He leaned down to press another kiss to your lips, arms wrapping around your waist and his hands finding purchase on your stomach, allowing him to inch your body closer to his. Both his and your eyes then fell shut as you settled into him.

It was all so…intimate; intimate in large contrast to the last time you spoke to him before he showed up at your door looking for forgiveness. And of course, he received it, because the whole disagreement was fueled by the sole fact that he simply missed the woman he loved.

The same woman who stood in his embrace as they fell into a comfortable silence, minds focused only on the sound of the water and the steam slowly rising around them.

#trent frederic #trent frederic fic #trent frederic imagine #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader #boston bruins imagine #boston bruins #hockey fic #hockey #fanfic #t. frederic

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dark-frosted-heart · 2 days

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I Love You, I've Sinned - Azel

As usual, can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this

One day during my stay in Tanzanite, I wound up becoming a servant to God—

Emma: Prince Azel…Is it true that you deliver divine punishment to people?

When I asked Prince Azel about this after handing him something he had me fetch for him in town, rather than giving me his usual smile, he scowled.

Azel: What did you see while out in town?

Emma: There was theft in the market today. The criminal was immediately captured by a passerby—

~~ Flashback ~~

Male onlooker: How dare you…Never did I expect that there would be such a ruckus in God’s own land.

Female onlooker: You will face divine punishment. Our Living God will not forgive you.

~~ Flashback end~~

Emma: —It seemed like everyone, the thieves included, feared “divine punishment”.

Azel: Absurd.

Emma: Have you ever threatened people across the country in the past?

Azel: That slander deserves some reparations.

Emma: I can’t say anything at all can I…

Azel: Don’t talk nonsense unless you want to experience divine punishment for yourself.

Emma: Ah, so divine punishment does exist.

Azel: Who knows?

After checking what he had me get for him, Prince Azel placed the jute bag in a corner of the crumbling ruins.

The temple which was supposed to be the Living God’s home, was as shabby as ever.

(Prince Azel’s a two-faced god, so it’d be scary if he actually did deliver divine punishment…)

Azel: Have you ever sinned?

Seems like Prince Azel’s in a good mood if he’s continuing the conversation even though he said not to talk about nonsense.

Emma: Probably…not

Azel: You’re lying.

Emma: Why do you say so?

Azel: Because no humans are without sin.

Emma: …Wouldn’t that mean everyone’s been imprisoned before?

Azel: Has anyone ever told you how empty your head is?

Emma: This is the first.

Azel: Have you never been exposed as an idiot before?

(You have a response for everything…)

Prince Azel leaned against a wall in the shade.

I followed suit and took a sip of water out of my flask.

Azel: Only acts that violate the law aren’t sins. Sins are actions that deserve God’s divine punishment.

Emma: So only God has control?

Azel: Is that so bad?

Emma: …No.

Azel: Simply put, anything you think you’re guilty of is a sin. Surely you’ve also been guilty of something to some extent. Whether it’s telling small lies, hiding things from others, or doing something to hurt someone unintentionally… As long as you’re alive, it’s hard to avoid them.

Emma: Well when you put it that way.

(Then, looking back, I probably have too)

(Sins that I need to apologize for…)

Azel: Confess your sins to God, and through receiving divine punishment, all will be forgiven. Perhaps that’s why people seek God…How laughable.

(Hm?)

Mysterious, starry eyes look at the flask in my hand.

Emma: …I’m not giving it to you?

Azel: Stingy.

Emma: I don’t want to hear that from a greedy god.

Azel [polite]: Ahhh, then at this rate I will dry up and die.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: For a human to treat a god so cruelly…That’s god abuse.

Emma: …

Azel [polite]: God abuse is a felony and the charges cannot be compared to any that has existed to this point—

Emma: OKAY! Then in exchange for the water, please forget that the reparations demanded earlier ever existed.

Azel [polite]: Of course. Thank you very much.

(Can’t believe you put on the god act in times like this…)

When I handed Prince Azel the flask, he started drinking immediately.

(I don’t mind giving him water, but…does Prince Azel care at all?)

Feeling restless somehow, I turned my gaze away from the mysterious god and toward the ruins.

(...)

(If god abuse is a sin, then…)

(There’s one guilty sin I remember)

—That night.

When I came to, I found myself in place with half-bloomed roses.

(I’m here again…)

The usual dream in the usual place, but today, there was something unusual.

At the end of the countless paths stood a figure.

That person sat improperly on the oak table where a book usually was, and as I walked down the path, he turned from the large full moon in the sky toward me.

Azel: We ran into each other in a dream? …Give me a break.

Emma: That’s my line. It’s not like I enjoy running into you either.

(I heard that dreams have some deep psychological meaning, but…)

(I wonder if seeing Prince Azel means he’s occupying my mind that much)

(...That being a good or bad thing’s another story)

Azel sat on the table with one knee up and looked down at me cheekily.

It was like the dream world enhanced his mysterious, inhuman appearance.

Emma: …You’re not here to deliver divine punishment, are you?

Azel: If you’re feeling guilty then maybe.

Emma: …

Azel: You are.

Emma: Who knows…

Azel: Sins are forgiven when you confess. It’s easier to let it out than to suffer in distress, that’s just how it is.

Emma: …

Azel: Say it, then. If you seriously ask for forgiveness, then I’ll deliver divine punishment to you. …It’s not a free service though.

(That’s why he’s so oddly assertive)

Emma: Nevermind then.

Azel: No, ask for forgiveness. Or else this dream won’t end.

Emma: That’s a threat!

Azel: Talking back to God like that’s asking for more to be added on to what you owe.

(...If Prince Azel wasn’t a real god, then I could ignore him)

Tanzanite’s living god was a true god, recognized and revered as sacred throughout the continent.

Even if the face he showed me was different from the face he showed the public, I wouldn’t dare to ignore God’s word.

Emma: …Will you listen without getting angry?

Azel: That depends.

Emma: To tell you the truth… The other day, I saw you taking a nap. Even when I got closer, you didn’t wake up, so… …Out of curiosity, I played with your beautiful, silver hair.

Azel: …

Emma: I’m so sorry! But it felt really nice to touch!

Azel: That’s a grave sin.

When I tried to run away, Prince Azel lept off the table and stopped me with a hand on my shoulder before jabbing my cheek.

Emma: Please stop! The jabbing really feels like you’re going to hollow my cheeks out!

Azel: Accept your punishment. I noticed your eccentric behavior though.

Emma: Then why didn’t you wake up?

Azel: I wasn’t in the mood to entertain you.

(A very Prince Azel-like reason)

When he finally released me, I rubbed my cheek.

(Even though I suffered…my heart definitely feels lighter)

(I can’t let him off easy…)

Emma: Have you ever sinned, Prince Azel?

When I asked the question in retaliation, he shrugged in exasperation.

Azel: How could a god sin?

Emma: At it again…

Azel: If there’s no one to punish it, then it’s not a sin. If neither man nor god can punish me, then no one can punish me for my sins.

Emma: …

Azel: Perhaps one day God will commit a mortal sin. When that time comes…I wonder who will sit on the Throne of God and punish me.

Prince Azel’s mutterings melted into the dream space.

(That…doesn’t sound like a joke…)

Emma: Leave it to me. If it needs to be done, I’ll do it.

As if to dispel the mysterious aura around the god, I made a proud declaration.

Emma: I hope your cheeks will be able to stand it.

Azel: That doesn’t sound like a big punishment to me.

Emma: Stay complacent while you can. I have a mean slap.

Azel: …No one’s asking you to slap me.

Emma: If it doesn’t hurt, then it’s not a punishment worthy of being divine punishment.

When I pretended to slap him, Prince Azel smiled condescendingly.

However, there didn’t appear to be any ill intentions behind the smile.

Azel: If God were to sin, then it would be a sin on a different level from humans. Possibly enough to wipe out an entire country. Punish that sin if you can…Actually you might do that.

Prince Azel looked up at the glittering moon in the dream world.

I still wasn’t sure about the meaning behind that melancholic look on his profile.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikepri jp #ikepri translations #azel radwan #ikepri azel

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042502 · 14 hours

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ೀ⋆｡ wrong boy - chris y matt sturniolo.

₊ ⊹ summary. you seek to satisfy your sexual desires with your classmate matt, but he is so slow that you end up hooking up with chris.

₊ ⊹ content. player reader, here nick, matt and chris are not brothers, Sex in the car, semi-public sex, explicit kisses, affectionate display in public, among others.

₊ ⊹ author's note. My first language is not English, if you notice any errors you already know why. If you want to read more about the boys, I leave you the m.list here.

"No" You roll your eyes as you hear Nick refuse. "I don't want him to hurt you, okay?" You laugh through your nose and Nick turns serious. "Okay, I know we've only known each other for a short time, but I consider you a friend and I know Matt..." You cut him off.

"You've known Matt for exactly the same amount of time you've known me," you claim.

"It's different, I can assure you that this will end badly"

"Why? Because Matt likes another girl? Please Nick, I don't want to be your fucking girlfriend, I want to fuck him." You make fun of him.

"Alright."

The situation is the following, Matthew was a pretty boy from college, he was deeply in love with Michel who only saw him as a friend, that hurt Matt quite a bit.

You had started to talk little by little with Matt, you had a clear intention, but it was easy for you, because even Matt has made it clear to you.

"I don't want something serious, you know? I'm not interested in romantic relationships."

"That seems fine to me"

Since then they were seeing each other, but despite Matt's words, he has been using you as an intimate diary. Sending text messages recounting his entire day as if that would really matter to you, believe me, you didn't care at all. You weren't interested in knowing how his day was, which is what he had for dinner, you weren't even interested in knowing how he was doing academically.

It seemed like a waste of time to know during the day if they were just going to fuck, but you haven't said anything to him about it.

The days passed and Matt still continued to use you as an intimate diary, the funny thing was that when they were in college he pretended he didn't know you.

“This pretty boy…” You catch the straw of your little juice box between your lips and take a sip.

"He's really pretending he doesn't know you," your friend speaks, still next to you, looking at Matthew in surprise.

"As if last night he didn't torture me with his stupid talk about his miserable life" Your friend laughs at you and you throw away the empty juice box. "I'll teach him to play cards well..."

The next few days continued the same, Matt tortured you at night by telling you about his stupid day and the next morning in class he pretended that none of that was happening. But I was already starting to use your cards.

You walk through the hallways towards Nick's group of friends, Matthew was never with them the moments before entering class, he was a few meters away talking to Michel's group of friends.

"Hey babe, you look great today!" Nick greets you and you greet him back.

Not to be rude you greet the rest of your friends, you could feel Matt's heavy gaze in the distance.

When you enter the room you leave Nick's group and return to your friend. I congratulate you on your play.

"It's not over yet, listen, we've been doing this stupid thing for two weeks where he tells me his fucking life and then I'm a complete stranger. We haven't even had a damn sexting." Your friend makes fun of you and you snort in annoyance. "But if he does things this way I'm going to make him suffer until the last second"

You promise. Nick has been keeping you informed about Matt's non-relationship with Michel.

He told you that Matt is still insistent on her, but that Michel doesn't seem to budge.

"Chris has gotten involved." You widen your eyes when you hear Nick say that. "Chris has told him that he is taking too long to move on with you, that if he continues like this you will go after someone else"

You smile and play with your pencil in hand. You had a good ally on your side and of course you were going to use him.

"Christopher is handsome, you want us to do this quickly... Okay let's motivate Matthew a little."

The following days you have been talking a lot more with Chris during classes, from greeting him in the morning, asking him for help with some notes, and you have even shared extra hours together.

It didn't take long for Matt to notice the sudden closeness you had with Chris.

You had left Matt speechless, things haven't changed Matt continues pretending that they aren't speaking and you continue talking to Nick's friends.

However, they have made some progress, Matt has invited you to breakfast during the break. Even so, he has secretly taken you to a place not so common at the university.

You haven't asked him, but you assume that he doesn't want to be seen with you or precisely that Michel doesn't want to see you together.

During one of the classes you are outside the classroom waiting for your friend, Nick comes out the door with his friends. They greet you and you greet them too. But then Chris talks more.

"Are you waiting for anyone?" He asks you and you nod, answering that you were waiting for your friend, but Chris narrows his eyes "aren't you waiting for a certain boy in particular?"

"No." You respond and they just keep walking away from you.

Your friend finally comes out and you walk through the hallways together, but Chris's words have left you thinking, you quickly text Matt asking if he was waiting for you. Instantly answer yes, you look at your friend.

"Oh no, you're not thinking about leaving me here alone"

"I'll leave you with the rest of your friends"

You abandon your friend and go to meet Matt, you were disappointed that it was just another silly coffee together accompanied by stupid talk. Not even a fucking kiss. Then Matt named Chris and that got you on your nerves.

"Do you want to talk about Christopher seriously?" The question came out so hard from your lips, Matt looked at you innocently and you sigh. "Well, let's talk about him then. He's really hot, I mean, Have you looked at her fucking legs? I would really let myself be choked by those damn legs. He really is hot"

Not even provoking Matt had kissed you, you were getting fed up with how slow it could be.

On a completely different day you were with Nick's friends chatting about trivial things, but your concentration was on Chris.

You were talking very animatedly with him, he's a fun guy. They joke around a lot and it makes you have a good time.

While you were chatting with him about one of your notes, you noticed someone walking around. Even Nick noticed it.

"I hope you understood it, at least I knew how to solve it that way" Chris hands you the note sheet.

"Thanks for your help Chris" Chris gives you a smile without saying anything else.

"Shit! Sit the hell down Matt!" Nick shouts towards Matt who was standing right next to him.

"I don't want to sit, I'm just waiting for the teacher to help me." that was a big lie.

"Just sit down will you" Nick pushes the chair next to him for Matt to sit and he does so, including him in the round.

The conversation continued normally, at times everyone made fun of Matt and then they just talked about trivial things.

But then you talked about chat groups and asked the guys what they talk about in that group.

""They must talk really dirty things there." Chris denies your words. "Come on Chris, I'm sure they send pornographic links."

"Oh no, we just talk about sports" Chris replies.

But you knew that wasn't true, Nick recently sent you a survey they did in that group. Where the main topic was you.

The question was simple, will Matt fuck you? Yes or no. But that wasn't so relevant, there was another survey besides that... Will Chris fuck you? For some strange reason that has motivated you more about it.

You knew you had a chance with Chris, but would Chris be able to do something with you even though he's talking to Matt? You had a big doubt.

"He told her" Your mouth opened wide and you began to laugh shamelessly. "Listen, he literally told her it would bother you if I fucked her." Chris had asked Matthew that.

"Tell me what the hell he answered"

"Matt has told him that it doesn't bother him, but please, it's obvious that it bothers him."

Everything was going wonderfully well, although Matt still continued to use you as a diary, they have been hinting at a kissing situation.

It seemed so childish to you, they should be fucking not creating a kissing situation. It annoys you that Matt is so childish. That Friday morning Matthew finished his price early, you thought he would leave first thing in the morning, however, he didn't.

Your inbox was full, they were messages from Matt, saying he would wait for you. You decided to screw it up and finished your work until the last hour of class. You haven't even hidden the texts from him, during class you've been talking to everyone except Matt.

When you finish you take your belongings and begin to say goodbye to your friends, you approach Chris and give him a hug and when you get to Matt he was a little resentful. For making him wait for nothing, since you would leave.

Once you're in front of Matt you smile at him and give him two small punches on the chest, Matt was frozen at your touch.

"Not coming?"

"Of course, let me grab my things first" Matt was extremely nervous, he awkwardly grabs his belongings and quickly says goodbye to his friends to keep up with you.

They went to a desolate place, you knew that today would be the day where they at least kissed. But Matt was talking too much about his damn life again, she was fed up.

"What does this tattoo mean?" tired, you follow his game, you have no choice. Maybe they wouldn't kiss.

Matt starts a long talk about his tattoos, your head was only thinking that if they kiss you should do something so that he will never forget about you. After that you would throw him out of your life, you were clear that he would never fuck because that would mean waiting another year with this step.

You were so immersed in your thoughts that when you realized Matt was getting dangerously close to you with the intention of kissing you, in an agile reflex you pushed him away. Matt swore under his breath.

"You didn't just do this to me" his tone of voice was completely different, he was upset. "You know it took me a lot to get the courage to do it and you just push me away"

"Oh Matty, were you really going to kiss? I didn't think we would do this... I'm seriously surprised" you use a silly and innocent tone.

You touch your leg, approaching him, but Matt was really angry.

"Forget it" still he tried to stay sane and not be violent with you.

"Do you really want us to forget about it?" Your body was leaning towards him.

Matt looked into your eyes and you could only smile evilly.

"No, I don't want us to forget shit" Matt took your face in his hands and joined your mouths in a hot kiss, full of desire.

The kiss wasn't bad at all, it was so hot, you definitely won't regret provoking it. The next few days you have been ignoring Matt, only talking to him as much as necessary.

"Great, they kissed, now wait another four months and maybe I'll hold your hand." your friend mocks.

"Forget it, today I'm going to leave all this shit" your friend looks at you, raising an eyebrow. "Believe me, I'm not going to wait another long months for us to fuck, I can't stand him continuing to use me as a diary."

"What are you going to do to leave him?"

"You just wait"

At night while Matt was again talking to you about his daily life, he mentioned Chris again. You knew he would, you've been talking to him too much that morning.

Matt was going completely crazy, you were completely toying with him.

And that's how you won, of course Matt looked bad. He didn't understand a damn thing what happened. You take a sip of your smoothie as Nick gapes at you.

"You... I thought he would be the one who would screw you, but you just made Matt fall in love with you and you threw him out of your life like a fucking toy"

"That's right, we haven't even fucked, what a damn disappointment"

"They just kissed, Matt really is so slow at this stuff."

"Don't worry, I've got this figured out" you smile as you play with the straw of your smoothie.

For the next few weeks, Matt has been distant from you, completely filled with resentment toward you. But that doesn't affect you in the slightest, you had other goals to achieve. And you knew this couldn't go wrong...

"Shit Chris!" You curse and clench your bottom lip between your teeth.

Chris was fucking you carelessly in his car that is parked a few meters from the university.

His hands were all over your body, damn, it was what you were wanting. You could feel his warm cock moving in and out of you, but you needed to take control.

You climb on top of him, leaving your breasts bare right in front of his face. You take off the stupid cap and Chris buries his face between your breasts, kissing them.

You spit out your palm and look for Chris's cock to jerk him off a little, when Chris moves away from your breasts he pinches your nipples mercilessly.

You guide the pink tip of Chris' cock to your entrance and moan in pleasure as you feel him fill you completely.

You place your hands on Chris's bare shoulders and gain momentum to jump, your ass shaking rhythmically on his cock.

Your eyes were on Chris, you loved seeing him frown and bite his lip from time to time. While letting out some complaints. Chris's hands were on your ass occasionally helping you with speed, giving you some butt cheeks as well.

"Are you going to come pretty boy?" You ask him while holding one of your hands tightly to Chris's cheeks.

“Fuck, you're a fucking slut” Chris blinks and his blue eyes lock onto yours.

You let go of his face and put your hand on his cheek, Chris's face turned around from the blow and then he slowly came back and bit his lip looking at me.

He forces you to stop your jumps and you raise your butt, leaving it in the air. He moves his hips against you, penetrating you roughly.

"Fucking Christopher!" Your nails dig into Chris's shoulders.

"Are you going to come, you fucking whore? Huh? Are you going to do it?" Chris grabs you by the neck and puts a little pressure on his grip.

"Oh Jesus! Christopher!" One of his hands hits your butt and you reach climax, Chris continues with his hip movements that were even faster than a moment ago, thanks to the friction and your orgasm that embraced him completely he releases inside you.

Your exhausted body slumps onto Chris, your hands leaving his shoulders and wrapping around Chris. Your head falls into the crook of her neck and you can smell the fragrance of her expensive perfume.

Chris had his hands on your hips, while his chest rose and fell trying to regulate his breathing.

You kiss his jaw.

"I really needed something like that, you haven't been bad at all" you praise him.

"You went with the wrong guy to begin with," he scoffs.

Then they knock on the car window and they both look out.

"Get out of the fucking car and for God's sake get dressed!" Nick shouts, making you laugh.

The following days have been quiet, Matt flees from your presence and on the other hand, you and Chris have been giving each other glances full of desire. You have to admit that he has fucked often.

"So you're fucking Christopher, wow, let me stand up" Your friend stands up and leans, capturing the attention of some people around.

"You really covered my damn mouth, I thought you would fall in love with Matt and he would be stupid to you. But it has been quite the opposite" You look at Nick who was sitting in front of you with a book in his hands.

"You say Matt has fallen in love with me?" You smile sideways and Nick looks at you over his glasses and slams his book shut, leaving it carelessly on the table.

"Don't play with him, he's had enough, he still doesn't know you're fucking Chris." This information was pure pro.

"Oh Nick, don't worry, I won't tell him anything" you laugh and Nick just curses himself for having said too much.

At the end of class you are usually the first to leave the place, but this time you are waiting for your pretty boy.

"Hey kid" you approach Chris who was walking towards the exit accompanied by the rest.

He smiles at you as a greeting, you hug him to walk together. Nick was walking behind you next to Matt, you could hear them talking.

"Do you have plans today?" You ask Chris and he scratches the back of his head.

He didn't expect you to invite him in front of everyone to fuck, because until now it was something private for both of you.

"Not really, what do you want to do?" He answers, you smile happily and catch Chris's arm with yours, causing your breasts to carelessly touch his arm.

"Cool, do you want to go to your house or mine?"

"Chris, you said we were going to get a haircut today," Nate, who was walking ahead of you, intervenes.

"Will you cut your hair?" You run your free hand through his messy hair. "Too bad, I love your hair like this, but you'll look sexy with a new cut."

"You can fuck later," Nate jokes.

Chris looks at you in disgust, but you give his arm a squeeze and they stop in the hallway.

"Don't worry kid, we'll see you later" you release your grip on Chris's arm, stand on your tiptoes and leave a short kiss on Chris's lips.. "Send me texts later" with that said you advance far from the rest.

Nick sees Chris's expression, he was just smiling while joking with Nate about it, on the other hand Matt was blank.

“I'm sorry Matt, but I have to go” Nick pats Matt on the shoulder empathically and runs to catch up with you.

When he manages to find you, he asks you for explanations about what happened. "I didn't know you were dating Chris."

“We don’t,” you reply.

"So why are you kissing him in front of everyone, Matt was there. You said you wouldn't tell him that you're sleeping with Chris."

"I don't know, I said it, plus Chris has already talked to Matt about him sleeping with me and Matt has told him that he doesn't mind" you remind him.

"Well, okay, that's true," Nick admits. "Anyway, you know he has feelings for you and you kiss Chris in front of him like it's nothing."

"Nick, I told you he wouldn't play with me and this is what happens to him because he's fucking insecure. "I should learn more about Chris, maybe then someone will fuck him." You continue walking, leaving Nick behind.

You smile victoriously.

₊ ⊹ author's note. Thanks for reading, remember to leave your like, a comment and share with your friends. Are you interested in being part of the taglist? Leave me a comment below and I'll add you.

₊ ⊹ taglist. @luverboychris @l34n @sturncakez @imwetforyourmom @hotreaderliin @tillies33ssss @sturnioloxlver @jnkvivi @stvrniolowh0re @adirtylittleheart @ilovechrisssturniolo-deactivate @melonjollyranche @sssoniaswiftt @ecliphttlunar @jetaimevous

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precious-little-scoundrel · 1 day

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Am I Still Your Favorite Escape?

Gale & Maureen -requested? ✔️

As a new year and a new unrelenting malaise settles over the prisoners in camp, Maureen Kendeigh finds the journey from viewing Gale Cleven as her prize collector’s item to the man others suspect she loves most harrowing indeed.

Note: y’all wanted handjobs and I gave ya one, with a twist, and yall wanted more of what Maureen is thinking during this time and so you got it. Along with 6k of other dynamics and plot and feelings, buckle up 👐🏻

Warnings: 18+ smut, female fingering, some cum play, semi public sex acts (not trying to be exhibitionists, but the place is packed ok?) erectile disfunction, not the most supportive attitudes towards partners feeling out of sorts, BUT ALSO!! Please note the typical universe warnings apply with an addition in this chapter being a discussion about terminating a pregnancy, those discussing it disagree strongly and due to religious beliefs one refers to it as “murder”. No action is taken in this chapter. There are hints of Buck x Bucky in this one, although can anyone actually define for me wtf was going on!? Because by Buck x Bucky I just mean they’d die for each other and that’s stronger your average marriage and Bucky maybe should look away when his friend gets some midnight loving, lol.

Maureen had been enthused at the outset. Not that she cared that much for subversion, but she enjoyed the feeling of mischief that their new task carried with it. Camp had proven dull, worse in many ways than she had even expected. She had expected there to be work if not recreation, and while there was some, then the winter months came all too soon and nothing about their shelters or their clothing were suitable for sustaining outdoor productivity.

Which meant she -and the others, she supposed it was only right to admit the others were no better- she had been cooped up in here during a never ending snowstorm outside, watching Gale sand his little board in a room muggy with pungent sweat and stale breath. They were packed on top of each other in here and any attempt to get fresh air earned one a case of frostbite.

That bit of wood was going to become a radio, Gale had told her, and she believed him. With all her heart Maureen believed him. But there came a day when watching Gale fiddle with a safety pin stuck atop a board became unarguably boring. So much so she had begun to insist she be allowed to help Brady and Crank haul in the hot water and assist in what went for “cooking” in this place. Johnny didn’t let her near his precious concoctions after having ousted Benny from the same, but he did let her hand him bowls and generally act useful at mealtimes.

She kept him entertained with stories of picnics in exotic places, safari’s where they cooked out of the back of her father’s jeep. Brady had them eaten all his terse quips about her not knowing how to manage in straitened circumstances and instead asked her endlessly about rhinoceros habitats. It served to entertain her for awhile, too.

Bucky had recovered after a few weeks abed, his movements remained stilted and she could still carry more water than his ribs allowed -a point she made to him daily as he swatted at her from his bunk- but as he recovered he became preoccupied.

Ida had also recovered, though not as thoroughly, having gone well over a week without so much as drinking water in her insensible state. She was weak, feverish and upon at last being plied with nourishment, she puked it right up. It was little cause for concern considering her illness, but as she grew stronger and her stomach remained contrary, some unease began to grow. By Christmas her brother Johnny had taken over the cooking in an endeavor to make something palatable but the woman was hardly the sort to be picky over her victuals. Benny and Brady’s watery soups were alike and they both came up within fifteen minutes of being eaten.

So then, their little room smelled of sweat, breath and vomit. Her brother and Hambone made mention of Crosby, it provided levity for a few days and Maureen was fast to join in. Until Ida had her at a private moment, the men in the hall or else out with latrine duty, and then she asked Maureen if she’d had her menses.

Offended at the implication that Gale Cleven would allow her any more than a mouth or handful of himself, Maureen hotly insisted she had. Three of them in fact, since arriving. She had the bloody rags to prove it.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, when there began to be a very segregated group of men hovering and debating amongst themselves that Maureen began to second guess such an inquiry as more than moralistic judgment. Their Red Cross packages arrived with canned goods and bland crackers. Bucky began to bargain for the latter with a gambler's gusto -before inevitably handing his loot to Ida. Ida herself began gambling fiercely, for smokes.

Ida had never smoked in her life.

And now the place smelled even stronger of one more cigarette, sweat, breath and vomit.

The smokes seemed to help her, or at least, Maureen noticed her puking less by New Years. The early part of the new year brought new misfortunes, the confiscation of Cleven’s prized radio and a rash of miscarriages amongst the women. A rash was perhaps an exaggeration -only three or four, by Maureen’s count, and between her’s and Ida’s and Cleven’s discreet insistence, such incidents were passed off to the wary guards as heavy menses.

Maureen realized then that those were pregnancies from their guards, a possibility that she had not considered as she had not had reason to worry about it. That is, until Ida Brady caught her again at a moment alone, and asked her in the closest thing to feminine fluster that Maureen had ever seen her in, if she’d ever had reason “in your expeditions, as it were…” to possibly “eliminate a -poor decision?”

Being quite puzzled by this inquiry, and only picking up on the vague aspects -something she admitted to Ida straight away- Maureen admitted she drank most of her poor decisions away, a strategy that hadn’t failed her yet and she wished was at her disposal in this frozen mud pit.

“I’m speaking of- romantic decisions. Poor ones.” Ida had tried again, yearning for understanding in her voice.

Maureen remained nonplussed.

“A child, Maureen a-a pregnancy have you ever?” Ida hissed out at last.

“Gosh no.” Maureen sputtered, “I’m not a full idiot. Why would you ask? I strike you as enough of a harlot?”

“I’m merely looking for -remedies.” Ida pinched at her nose, a motion Maureen was familiar with watching in Gale when he was overwhelmed.

“Who needs it?” Maureen scoffed, quite sure that the odds didn’t stand many more girls suffering from the same, the poor food and rough conditions having ensured it for them.

Ida took her hand away but closed her eyes, mouth folding to a straight line. “I do.”

“Oh fuck.” Maureen plopped down beside her on the bunk in disbelief, they both stared at the opposite wall and its identical beds with rumpled bedding and starlets pasted on the walls. “Fuck.”

“They’re getting very stupid about it.” Ida said at last.

“What do you mean? Who?”

“The boys.”

“You’ve told the boys?” Maureen cried out, infuriated.

“They guessed, already, for God’s sake must even this be about you, too, Kendeigh?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“It means while you’re bored and very vocal of it, some of us might die-“

“-we could all die in this shithole-“

“-or! Or worse,” Ida cut in fiercely, “have someone die for us by being idiots. Bucky is full of schemes of -of running off into the sunset. I suppose after he levitates us over the barbed wire with his magic carpet. I don’t know, but I- Maureen I know that if I go on much longer, it won’t just be me in danger. They’re either going to risk something terrible or get punished for not reporting me.”

“So what?” Maureen asked dully, having been excluded from an obvious inner circle regarding the issue and having now been accused of being trivial in her own sufferings, it smarted and she could not deny the flicker of unfairness she felt over it. “Want me to shove a coat hanger up you? The others too chicken?”

Ida visibly recoiled beside her, putting more space between them in the bunk. “I’m not going to- to kill it.”

“What kinda remedy doesn’t?” Maureen sassed, if they were to talk no longer in flippant pleasantries, she could do that.

“I’m just asking for help.” Ida’s jaw wobbled, her voice a wreck of desperation and Maureen could see with a small and ugly bit of satisfaction that the woman was truly close to losing her grip. It was satisfyingly human. As was her reaction to a remedy after asking for it.

“You come to me because you think I’m loose enough to know, and then you have the nerve to be appalled when I do.” Maureen pointed out, “That what all the smokes are for?”

“Yes.” Ida put her head back in her hands.

“Just won’t budge; huh?”

“No.” her voice sounded like she might be crying but there was no telling with those hands in the way.

“It would be stubborn.” Maureen muttured, thinking of the goddamn Brady family as she knew them. “Why won’t you get rid of it? You want to get rid of it-“

“-I don’t understand why it’s hanging on!” Ida’s wail came out garbled between her fingers.

“So let’s -unhang it.”

“I can’t. Kendeigh -I can’t.”

“I know it’s risky, but I know you’re not scared of dying.” Maureen muttered, attempting to understand.

“Candy I cant, I can’t murder it.” her voice had dipped into a sacrosanct whisper.

Maureen huffed in confusion, a substantial amount of pragmatism warring with what tiny bit of sympathy the threat left her, “It’s a German’s, at this size no more than a blo-“

“It’s a life!” Ida snarled back at her so viciously Maureen contemplated the likelihood of her having gone fully mad, “And it’s mine.” she rebutted, pointing to her chest fiercely.

“So you’ll let Bucky and Gale die for you, die trying to get you out of here but you won’t try to fix it yourself.” It was how Maureen saw it, and if she were to be accused of suggesting murder, she might as well have her side put out there, too.

“That’s how you see it?” Ida muttured, looking utterly defeated.

“If Gale dies over this, I’ll wring your neck myself. Keep smoking.” she advised with a shrug, “Maybe catch an elbow to the gut if you can.”

Ida pulled her hand away again to look at her, she’d definitely been crying then, red nosed and watery eyed, but she looked less aghast now than she had at the mention of the coat hanger. Maureen didn’t think she wanted condolences about it, or a pat on the back. Come to think of it, Ida was getting plenty of that sort of doting from the boys. No, Maureen didn’t feel like she needed that from her, and something sour and twisted in her heart made her loath to give it.

It worsened as the days went by, as Maureen observed their once innocuous routines with new eyes, noticing the boys' furtive plans, their hovering concern, their brought in provisions -offerings fit for a queen. It was understandable to show such care for her in her state, and ostensibly no one deserved it more than Ida Brady. But it left Maureen feeling adrift, like an afterthought, someone whose greatest challenge was their boredom. And ever looming were those great risks the boys bantered about like it were all a low stakes game of cards.

She plays thirty to forty sets of cards with Hambone, decimates Benny at chess, cleans the pans, even mops the goddamn floor. All to keep busy, perhaps even to spite Ida whose one assigned task is the floors. She cannot be accused of boredom or idleness if she has done all her own tasks and others’ besides.

In her spare time she would like to go with Bucky, to be of use in collecting things for Gale’s new little project, his precious crystal radio, but where women go -there go guards and attention and soon, the sheer mischief of the naughtiness of Gale’s construction wanes as she is left laying in her bunk watching him wiggle a clothespin around for the fifth day in a row. She had been so understanding for the first four. Even though she had contemplated a tiff with him over not informing her of Ida’s state as soon as he knew, she had been merciful and instead settled for holding the copper wire for him and brushing his cheek when he didn’t actively shy away in concentration.

He mumbles about needing to give it his full attention, about her needing to keep a lookout, about the danger of getting caught. She asks if it’s worth it then, anything that might get him killed is her enemy, even if it’s a little clothespin on a board. He looks at her like she’s from mars, unable to fathom why she wouldn’t understand its necessity. And he doesn’t come to bed until an ungodly hour of the night and immediately, upon settling in their bunk he is asleep, much to her chagrin.

She would have liked a kiss, a hand between her legs even more. She would have settled for those whispering little chats they’ve indulged in ever since Bucky laid atop Ida and all rules were broken -they’ve shared a bunk and as the winter gets worse, no one bats an eye. In fact, everyone’s stacked two for one, male and female alike. Brady and Hambone snicker and whisper in their bunk every bit as much as she and Gale do, Maureen is sure of it.

Instead Gale falls asleep. And he does it again and again, night after night. Bucky rummages on his own for supplies. Brady frets over Ida. Only so many people can play makeshift bat gammon in the hall. It does not pass the time. And Maureen grows ever more restless.

She feels expectantly happy when Gale’s work is finally complete, his finished product constructed and the moment of truth comes. They crowd around and wait with baited breath as his finger tunes it. And Maureen knows she is fully awful for her relieved feelings when it does not work. He can’t be killed for it if he scraps it. And he will come to bed at a reasonable hour now it is useless. The shake of his hand makes everyone else feel helpless in the face of his ever steady composure cracking, but while Maureen has no acceptable remedy for Ida’s plight, she does for Gale’s, and she waits for darkness with the relieved excitement of a child on Christmas Eve.

Gale does indeed come to bed, the radio not fully scrapped but heartily abandoned and hidden with its various parts in sundry places. And when he slips beside her, his nose is cold and he touches her like he has missed her. He pulls the covers to their chins, tucking them in with a small giggle, she is suffocated by it and yet he persists and this has gone on all winter until now it is their inside joke and he does it just to make her laugh, and when she laughs so does he, a honest little giggle of a thing, and she misses him worse than ever even as he pressed along the length of her.

It isn’t safe yet, not everyone is asleep but she bides her time with kissing him and he returns her caresses ardently, a thorough press of his lips and his tongue unreservedly sliding into place alongside her own, his hands warming up as they clasp her neck, turning her head upon their pillow. She wonders if they are loud even at this, but she was never the one to care, it’s Gale who objects and who hushes them, who makes them wait, who insists on being courteous even in hell, who only allows himself to lap at her when the place is abandoned or else full of the atmospheric noises of masculine snores.

Maureen does not mind waiting for him, or rather -she does, but he is implacable about it and when she attempts to persuade him otherwise she is oftentimes swatted and put in her place like a wayward child. Such correction holds a charm of its own when it is Gale Cleven administering it, but tonight she feels close to madness if she does not get her way so she allows him to kiss her as the quiet and steady breaths around them herald the unconsciousness of their brethren. She grows bolder, throws her leg over his hip and tugs at his buttons, hands rucking up his shirt and parting the heavy flaps of his coat. He is as burdened with layers as a Victorian maiden and Maureen enjoys the hunt for warm skin, the way he looks as ravished and expectant as any girl while she gropes at him, when she finally reaches him he always shudders, a full bodied thing that jerks even his neck.

Tonight she parts his layers feverishly and he mutters her name, again and again and his hands are clumsy at her shoulders and no progress is made on discarding her own clothing but she pays it no mind, she is direly hungry for him. Any touch of him, to make him shake and melt and pay tribute to her.

“Maureen.”

She finds the button of his trousers right at his heaving naval and she exults at the feel of the fine trail of hair beneath her fingertips.

“Maureen.” his voice grows urgent and she doesn’t heed it, he counts on her never heeding it.

She wiggles her hand beneath the waistband of his boxers and skims the hairy plane of his pelvis before laying her hand on what she needs and -he is as limp as a dead mouse. She holds the chubby thing for a good long moment, very much like it were some useless rodent she had caught and must now dispose of, and she is filled with confusion.

“Maureen-“ he mutters again against her unmoving lips and she realizes with misery she mistook his pleading for a different sort.

It is not that she’s never felt him soft, on the contrary, there was a long time in the early days -when she wanted him and he wanted a promotion- that her hand would find its way between his legs, in a jeep or a bar, beneath the table while he helped her with her calculus. Once she felt him she became mildly obsessed, he was always tucked to the right and he was so substantially long and full beneath her palming, even in repose, that her determination to have him was only further cemented by it. Again and again her hand made it into his lap and again and again he would rebuff her, sometimes with startled propriety, occasionally with long suffering disbelief, more and more with almost parental disapproval.

Each reaction had been as satisfying to Maureen as if he were swelling into her palm. And soon enough, he was doing that, too. His hand growing a beat too slow before he grabbed her wrist, his mouth still twisted in dry reproof but his eyes began to burn. He was unbothered no longer and it was not much longer after that he was not even resistant.

Ever since, she could count on him to perk, to respond, to validate her own want of him with his own for her.

The fact it was in many ways a tortured surrender on his part only drove her madder, made her desire burn brighter, made the succumbing of the good, the right, the proud man all the more intoxicating. And again, as if they’d never shared all that, he was now as warm and floppy as a dead dormouse.

“Maureen.” he begged, half expecting tears again like her first night in the stalag, wincing as her hand squeezed him meanly, jerked at him a few impotent times in an effort to fluff him.

Her hand withdraws and he holds his breath, ready for a scene or a rebuke. His gut twists miserably, at fault twice over and yet -not really. But that never mattered with Maureen. He says her name again but she is still and deflated, and after a moment, she merley rolls over, giving him her back.

That is how he knows she is hurt, were she angry she would not have shrunk from being crueler than a few angry tugs. The silence is new and it makes Gale’s stomach swoop in an odd terror, like his next decision might rescue them both or plunge them off a cliff.

“Maureen.” He tries again, his hand on her shoulder, squeezing and trying to turn her back.

Her shoulder jolts up sharply to displace the gesture. “I’m not cold.” she informs him as she rolls further away towards the wall, and her tone is icier than the weather outside. He’s stunned, she’s never once ignored him, no it’s always ever been an escalation of her demands for his interest. Hell, even in Africa she had said she was cold and the presence of her head on his shoulder disrupted his tan, he got no end of grief from the boys about it.

Confused and mildly hurt himself, although he doesn’t know why, not beyond some tickling sense of unfairness about being blamed for being a bit out of sorts in the place, Gale takes his hand away and moves to lie on his back, to keep from crowding her. He thinks that in the morning he will explain to her how he is preoccupied with the radio, that his gut feels in constant free fall from the plans to escape, that everyone is riding on him for this thing to work and he just proved tonight he’s perfectly worthless at it. Nothing but buzz in his ear echoes around in his head and he replays the sound of that failure again and again, justifying her frustration with him. He thinks he’ll explain this all to her in the morning. And also-

-that he is cold.

He’s so damn cold from the anxiety and being still at his work at the table for so long his hands and legs go numb that he simply cannot imagine feeling bothered at this moment, cannot imagine it and it would seem that neither can the little guy. He doesn’t deserve a reward, not for fucking up at the one thing they’ve got going for them. He catches Bucky’s eyes when he rolls over, having taken up night shift over Ida due to insomniatic tendencies. He wonders strongly if Bucky would be as disappointed in him, if he is already. Just wait until next morning, Gale thinks, when I get to admit I’ve got no second plan. If it doesn’t work as is, no amount of fiddling is gonna make it better.

That settles heavy in his gut but does nothing for the swooping feeling, there is merely a loadstone in his belly, plunging downward in a perpetual free fall, and in his dreams the accompanying soundtrack is radio static.

There is a tiny sliver of freedom in the morning -and it does not come every morning- when Maureen has noticed there is still and quiet yet the morning routines are in place. Lazy and weak, the prisoners do not rise with the sun, although some stir and moan and try to meet the new day head on. The guards unlock the doors and yet many choose to lay abed. So many in fact that Johnny Brady ceased making breakfast at that hour as with so few ready to eat it, the ordeal became a waste. He does often fetch water for morning pit baths and teeth brushing, the occasional splash on the face to wash off the sleep.

Maureen has often contemplated these little slivers of time as a chance to break free. Not of the compound, that endeavor holds no fascination to her, but rather out of this combine and out from under the watchful eyes of people who know her all too well. Or think they do. They don’t, they very obviously don’t. And she’s losing all sense of who she is to be known by as the days go on.

She listens as Johnny gathers the buckets and milk pails, always gentle with the clanking metal, vestiges of the considerate boy his mama raised still clinging even in this place, and he hands an allotment to Hambone who is awake with him and less considerate.

Then there is the hushed flurry of beratings and the sleepy protests of trying one’s best.

They leave together, and they leave the door adjar as usual, to come back in quietly if needed. They’ll be gone for at least fifteen minutes, then they will come back and then Brady will leave again to run his two goddamn laps around the compound while that testicular looking bald headed doctor clocks his pace. Maureen doesn’t think Johnny likes running track or ever did it before, but he and Ida both took it up, the latter probably to get rid of the child and the former maybe to stay warm. The doctor didn’t care about the timing of Ida’s laps and soon she began to grow too large to risk attention by keeping Johnny company.

Now Johnny runs his timed laps alone and the only motivation Maureen can imagine for it, beyond the over-familiar assessment of his limbs by the doctor, is the chocolate he earns from it. Priceless sugar to keep up his specimen’s strength in this starving place.

Chocolate Johnny regularly gives to Ida. Though for Christmas he made them all a mashed chocolate pie on a tin plate and it had honestly been the kindest and loveliest Yuletide treat anyone had ever given any of them.

Maureen has considered running with him, trying her luck and seeing if she can win chocolate herself. Maybe that would make Gale smile. She doubts the doctor would care, he’s curiously uncaring regarding the existence of females in camp.

Maureen knows all these sounds of morning routine by heart, can track the progress of each stage of the routine while feigning sleep, motionlessly facing the wall.

Gale has no need to feign, it would seem. He is not snoring but he is whimpering and muttering in that annoying way of his that only occurs when he’s in deep. She used to think it cute, she now thinks it helpful to judge if he is able to catch her at her scheme.

-useless fucker with his useless radio and his useless cock, making her feel useless-

Careful as a cat, and with as much grace, Maureen rolls herself upright, and uses the slats of their upper bunk to balance her weight, keeping the mattress from giving a tell-tale dip. She swings from one slat to the next, carefully crouching when the movement jars the whole frame but Benny stays asleep below her and Gale makes no move to arrest her. It’s a feat to drop soundlessly to her feet after such a climb in a full overcoat, but she manages it. Her boots are under Benny’s bunk and she fetches them with no small amount of terror, but despite his shifts and erratic movements, he does not catch her.

She takes the boots into the hall, which is gratefully empty, and fastens them there. Taking her woolen cap from her coat pocket, she puts it atop her head while tucking in her hair, and fastens her scarf high over her nose, and knows that she is about as inconspicuous in form and feature as the next man. When Brady is bundled similarly his eyes appear as gentle as a woman’s and Maureen knows her own are no longer half so beguiling, not with their pale lashes and absence of cosmetic relief.

Perhaps she’s grown so wane and bland Gale has even lost the ability to pretend attraction. He always was fastidious about cleanliness and order, fussy and volatile when she took him unawares. In fact, when she had first managed to get so far as to undo his pants, to fondle his half hard length, to pull him from the slit of his drawers, to tug his shaft to orgasm, it had been beside the antiseptics. And that had some sort of parable in it, she thought now. Recalling how she’d had to talk him down off a panic as soon as he had shuddered and given her the sought after reward, hot and sticky and plentiful as only a virgin’s would be. He was not comforted until gauze and betadine was used copiously to clean her hand, and the nurse was later puzzled as to why when she entered only one had needed treatment, but both left stained with the orange stuff.

Back then a word, a flick of her eyes would have Gale in full pursuit, bodily if not mentally. She could wage a war with his ever so impeccable spirit and win it with the help of his own flesh. Now? Now he couldn’t even respond, not even pretend it. And he’d tried to warn her and she’d thought he’d been begging and she realized he wanted to stall her, keep it from her, one more thing.

These thoughts carried her dozens of rows down, combine after combine, lost in a flurry of snowflakes that were turning gradually pink as the sun rose. It was beautiful here before all the footprints ruined it.

At the far end of the sector, outside the last combine before the fence that separated them from the Brits, Maureen spotted a huddle of men gathered around a fire pit. She hadn’t known those were even allowed, not doubting that its proximity to the fence had some other subversive reason beyond warmth, and if she thought it then the guards must have. Yet here it was alright, jugs hung over it from a makeshift spit and crackers impaled and being toasted on the same. Maureen’s mouth watered, as much at the thought of genuinely smoke flavored food as she did at the heat. She was still undecided as to her course of action when a loud guffaw, followed by a familiar and harsh curse made her startle.

Polish airmen -or, at least by way of America. They would be sat out in the cold at dawn and they would toast their crackers. Maureen had frequently used her brief passes from Thorpe to terrorize other officer clubs, finding the joy of it a great distraction and some of the girls had joined her at it. She was usually greeted in such escapades with shock or even disgust but the men’s flailing helplessness in the face of a female serviceman always served as a full quota of contentment.

No one had terrorized her back as good as she gave until the Poles. And then they had bought her a drink, and lamented with her that she had not become a fighter pilot. Because Maureen still held a flame for the small craft, resentful that her decent piloting had been considered too poor for the clunky birds, for she knew she wasn't all bad, it was merely those awful forts and their terrible bulk. The Poles had agreed and bought her another drink, and tried to seduce her to their squadron. That had been a happy night and she’d come back to barracks so late as to break curfew, and chatted Gale’s ear off in drunken joy about her wonderful time and her new friends.

Maureen now eyed the fire in the snow and the group of foreign speaking men around it and tugged off her cap, allowing her hair free. And she sauntered up with calculated aimlessness, as if she were indeed only checking out their s’mores to ridicule them compared to her combine’s delicacies. It was effective, they defended their crackers vehemently and she remained derisive, this called for a demand that she try them and so she did and admitted they weren’t too bad but were too dry to be gotten down her throat. So they then passed her coffee and she had to squat to receive it and then she was given a seat to finish it and before long, she was one of the huddle and her feint at leaving them was argued against so heartily she knew she’d won, and so she stayed and played cards and told stories and drank hot water with boys who had been born over here but were in many cases educated not far from her house. And when afternoon came and went she stayed, and when evening fell and the guards became stricter with the perimeter and their fire, she snuck in with them into their combine and there played drinking games despite the violation of curfew.

For the Poles had liquor in this hell hole. And that, Maureen thought, was the true measure of a great nation, their capacity for ingenuity and irrepressible spirits.

Gale entered his own combine in the falling dark with the persistent press of a gun barrel at his lower back, right about at the kidneys, he figured. It was the only thing possible to persuade him to keep from looking, and the others were filing in right ahead of him, saving him a bullet their only motivation for abandoning the search. The guards locked the door after them, and Gale’s chest heaved in panic at the thought of her out there somewhere and locked out and him locked in.

“Fuckin’ Kendeigh.” Murph grumbled but without any heat,

taking himself to his barracks.

Bucky kept pacing up and down the hall with his hands in his hair, snapping at anyone who dared clog his promenade. “Jerries said it was time for bed -so get in your goddamn beds!”

“Why would she do this?” Gale begged him again and Bucky huffed again at it, furious for him.

“She give you grief last night?” Bucky asked wisely, the loyalty in his voice soothes Gale, as does the structure of his sentence, it suggested it wasn’t his fault. And Gale wanted to believe that and he just as strongly he knew it was wrong of him.

He had been in the wrong and he didn’t deserve Bucky’s sympathy for this or the damn radio. They’d been talking of repairs every spare minute of this day that hadn’t been taken up with trying to find Maureen. And while Bucky could remain as adamant as he wanted, that it wasn’t his fault that his radio didn’t work -it didn’t change the fact that his failure now meant Bucky was gonna try something awful instead, like climbing the fence with a pregnant woman on his shoulders. And it was all because Gale couldn’t fucking make a connection. Just as he couldn’t connect to his own body for Maureen and now she’d probably gone over the fence too, or got shot trying.

“So fuckin’ unless.” He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and mashed the tears away.

“She call ya that?” Egan barked, and Gale didn’t need to see his frown to know he was about to track down Kendeigh to punch her, not rescue her.

“No, don’t need a dame to tell me what’s what.”

He didn’t see it coming so he was reasonably startled when he found his hands dislodged from his eyes and his face suddenly collided into the weave of a musky sweater, Bucky’s hand gripping the nape of his neck like he were a child. That hand was so damn large Gale could imagine he was young again and his father was holding him. “Somethin’s gonna come to you,” this reassuring rumble was light years away from his father’s belittlements and he shuddered, “I’ll get you new wire or somethin’ but just- ain’t your fault, Buck, and that goddamn parakeet needs snow down her pants if she can’t see it too.”

No one pretended to sleep that night, even once the lights were out. Ida sat up in her bunk with her brother beside her, a telling lack of sympathy being expressed for Maureen’s self inflicted plight. Ida had spent her own time at the radio and while it hadn’t done much good, it had gone some way to reassure Gale she didn’t see anything amiss. It ought to work.

Small talk was kept carefully low in the bunks, and Bucky kept a firm position on Gale’s bunk, sitting upright with his legs slung over his friend’s boney knees, affectionately trapping him in a lying posture. Bucky had taken to entrapments here in camp, perhaps the barbed wire inspired him.

They had already given Benny his fair share of chiding for not going out with Maureen that the morning, although Brady’s report of her absence in the time he had fetched water plainly represented someone not wishing for accompaniment -or, as Brady so helpfully reminded of the obvious, her desire to obey Cleven’s long standing order on the matter.

It was probably close to 0100 when a great commotion sounded outside, followed by a crash bang of the combine’s main doors being thrown wide and the rhythmic tread of jackboots had everyone pouring out of their bunks and standing at the ready, -they weren’t sure for what, but it wasn’t something you wanted to be caught lying down for. Gale wrenched open the door, expectancy already perfectly in place on his face until he caught sight of Kendeigh, hauled like a child between the guards and one of their captains met his eye with unimpressed disdain.

“This we found in wrong sector.” he explained, gesticulating to Maureen with a gloved hand, “Sleeping under combine steps. I have told you, Major, I cannot guarantee safety of your females when they are alone, something happen to them, you blame me but I told you! Cannot guarantee.”

“Understood.” Cleven gave him his soberest nod, feeling ill and angry and watching warily for the next move, wondering when he could get his lost package back, yet not wanting to appear eager.

“Discipline, major, discipline!” The Captain insisted and Gale felt Bucky’s heat searing at his back as he pressed forward, taking the German’s eyes away from Gale’s, preventing something rash.

“Oh believe me, sir,” Bucky drawled as he pressed forward, the guards posture confidant and lax, “discipline will be met.” he took the brave step of gripping Kendeigh’s coat flap in his hand and tugging her forward, a movement that yanked her free of the gaurds’s grip.

“Met?” the officer was confused, anger and annoyance tinged his repetition.

Bucky shook Maureen meanly by her coat in emphasis of his statement, “Discipline!” he agreed, insistent.

“Well?” It appeared the officer intended to wait until it was meted out.

Bucky stalled and Gale caught Maureen’s panicked eyes even as her nose flared rebelliously with measured breaths, trying to get on top of it all. Gale felt himself pushed to the side abruptly, having to catch himself on the door as Ida Brady strode past him into the hall, the book she’d been perusing still clutched in her hand.

“Child.” she muttered loudly for the officer’s benefit before raising her book and striking Mauree square across the face, one cheek and then the other as the blow sent her staggering, sharp thwacks with the flat side of the volume.

Maureen took the reproof with good grace and a stunned whimper, Bucky’s still supportive clutch on her jacket keeping her from making a fully pathetic scene and melting to the floor.

“Go, in, get in bed.” Ida snapped her fingers, pointing to the door and when Maureen took a second too long to collect her spotted vision, Ida raised the book again and Maureen needed no more incentive, knowing if Ida did not deliver it the guards would.

She tumbled over the barracks threshold like a bedraggled orphan, hair snow drenched and cheeks throbbing, her jacket muddy and undone.

“Well done.” Johnny Brady greeted with montone venom and only Benny Demarco’s well placed foot tripped her and prevented her from clawing his face off in long suppressed spite.

She landed inelegantly on her face, elbows bent just enough to catch herself from a truly ugly splat, she was gathering herself for another spring when the troop of her officers sounded and the door closed and quiet fell over the place, lethal and accusing.

So the Germans had let her off easy then. Maureen drug herself up to her knees and suddenly wished she hadn’t, it felt too close to contrition.

She staggered upright, ignoring the indignity of having to push up on Brady’s knee to do so. Once on her own two feet she raked muddy fingers through her hair and smiled at her superiors, tired but dandy. They looked pissed and that was to be expected.

“The hell did you go?” The others seemed to acknowledge Gale had some right -or maybe it was responsibility- to address her first and it was leveled at her even more scathingly than she had braced for.

“For fresh air.” she chimed, leaning against a bunk brace, arms crossed easily.

“Sleepin’ out? Sneakin’ out?” Gale stormed on and Ida actually took pains to bypass him and climb into her own bunk, her merciful discipline administered she seemed to wash her hands of the business, “Flagrantly disobeying my expressed orders! Answer me! The hell were you thinking?”

“I wanted to get out,” she leveled back at him, her smirk grown sharp and practiced and debutant-worthy, “I wanted to be somewhere else besides in this stinking, miserable cabin with its miserable, stinking occupants. Nothing but a bunch of self righteous, maniacally focused dreamers who can’t have fun for shit.”

As soon as she said it, no regret came, only a feeling of utter validation. Indeed, what had changed since she had been gone? Ida was still sick and pregnant, Johnny was still fussy, Benny was still playing at cards, Bucky was still pushing Gale harder than any over the radio and her Cleven was cleaving to the damn thing like it were his god.

“I mean, tell me if I missed something essential!” She scoffed, “Some great development occur? Or was I needed for some great task you all missed me so desperately during? No? Didn’t think so. Because we don’t go anything in here except talk about getting out like it’s actually plausible and I’m sick as fuck of it and I-“ she pointed to herself, voice growing in volume as Gale’s own fury seemed to wane into something shocked and scared, “I have spent my day with men who have ingenuity and good humor and liquor, because they aren’t hopeless fucks like us. The Brit’s have a tunnel started, the Polish have one too along with a bathtub of potato peel vodka, and we have a pregnant colonel! Sto lat!”

It was terribly quiet for a moment, half the cabin's occupants intent on appearing discrete and the other half stunned into a sort of mortified offense.

“You gonna thrash her or am I?” Egan finally broke the tension, his head turning lazily to look at Gale, his mouth was grinning like he was eager and it made Maureen’s bruised cheeks flame. It seemed to be some private joke, Maureen could only tell by the way Cleven’s eyes widened in warning protest at his friend before biting his lip and sniffing harshly. Then the lights cut again and the place was plunged in darkness, it brought Maureen both relief at the obscurity and a strange feeling of terror at the pitch black surroundings. She still hated the dark, ever since those Gestapo cells.

“Take that filthy shit off and get in your bunk.” Gale’s voice so near and so sudden startled her, and it wasn’t rebellion that made her lag in response but he seemed to take it that way, the snap of his finger seeming dangerously close to her nose, and she felt his fingers pluck at her muddy coat, “Now, don’t test me, get in, now.”

She peeled it off and let it flop heavily to the floor before kicking off her boots with the same carelessness, and then taking a step up, digging her frozen toes into Benny’s mattress and hauling herself up to the next level, laying down with a shiver in the cold sheets. The quiet sounds of rustling and bedding filled the place, the others putting themselves away for the night too, but to her relief no one seemed to be murmuring about her. Then the bunk creaked again and the unmistakable feel of someone climbing in beside her made her gasp.

Gale, of course it was Gale, laid himself out atop her, like he planned to keep her there by his weight alone like Bucky had with Ida, and an odd feeling suddenly took possession of Maureen’s chest, one she hadn’t felt all day: she felt undeserving. His head was hard and awkward against her clavicle but she didn’t want to budge him, secretly and utterly grateful he was being kind, that he was not ignoring her. Maybe Ida was right and she was childish but if that were the case, what was to be done about it? She was as she was and she needed him, so tentatively after a few minutes, she withdrew her legs out from under his own and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him close all along her like they were mating, she meant it as a hug and she felt him limp and heavy between her thighs but she did not withdraw.

Gale waited patiently until the snores began, wind whistling outside so loudly it would cover their whispers, and she shuddered to think of herself being petty enough to try to sleep in that icebox. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” he rasped at last, raising his head a little and trying to get a read on her in the semi dark. “Maureen, you can’t worry me like that, please.”

“I’m tired.” her voice was weak from the effort to hold back an ugly sob.

“You've been tired before.” he soothed, “What about today? What about last night? What’s all this? C’mon, you can tell me, I need ya to tell me.”

Maureen sighed raggedly, always a sucker for his cajoling voice, more so when she knew she deserved and expected the thrashing. “You don’t need me that way. You don’t need me at all.”

Gale dropped his head a little, his hand reaching up to pinch his nose, humiliation and impotence warring with need to assure her. “I'm sorry about that.” he settled for, “I’m too fucked right now, I admit it. It’s all just, it’s a lot, we’ve all got a lot goin’ on. You too, I know, I’m just not right up there, Maureen. Doesn’t mean I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me during the day and you don’t need me at night.” she had tried to dissuade herself of this painful reality, truly! -but those were the facts as she saw them and it hurt her worse than him.

“I’m doing this for you!” he begged, his large hand cupping the side of her throat and she would love to think it a caress but he was only trying to make a point, one she contested vehemently in her heart. “I won’t be okay until you’re safe, baby.”

Maureen scoffed, thick and bitter, she had no child, she had no threat, she didn’t need to get out. “I don’t have any reason to get out!” She seethed back, “What’s in it for me? Besides you dead and me too, maybe I’ll get sent back to the Gestapo. That’ll be lark. I don’t need to get out, Major, I need-“

Gale was panting in her face, hot and hurried as her own ire rose with each word, “What do you need?” he goaded, and she could hear him lick his lips.

“I need you to pay attention to me.” she said it.

And to anyone else it would have sounded the most petty thing of all, but to Gale Cleven it was something he already knew deep down when he wasn’t so caught up in the imminent might-be’s of their situation, when he wasn’t needing to save Bucky from himself, or Ida from being put down or Johnny from whatever Greek hell that doctor had enlisted him in. He knew Maureen needed him, not his brains or what he could give, not really, she just wanted his flesh, and he had never bartered in that currency before her, having always assumed it was cheap if not with love. He was not sure he was loved but he knew it was not cheap, whatever it was they shared. And he knew she needed him. Just as he needed her, even though he could not manifest it as he wished.

He could kiss her, though. That he could do.

She did not expect the plush press of his lips when she saw him duck his head against the halo of window light. He kisses with intent and with reproof and the part of her that enjoys his anger begins to thrum to life as mercy and justice both battle in his kiss, his tongue all forgiveness and his teeth implacable rightness.

“Why?” she whines at him, feeling herself need and yet he lays between her legs useless as a girl, “why’re you when you can’t-“ she has insulted him enough today, she trails off with surprising tact.

“Don’t mean I don’t need you.” his voice has gone gruff like it does when he holds her head firmly and grinds his once hard cock down her throat, “Don’t mean your boy don’t want you.”

And that’s all she needed, really.

Along with the feeling of his fingertips walking down her bare stomach, his hand somehow sneaking its way through her layers undetected until now. It awakes a trail of fire down to her core, her core that is already ablaze by his kissing, his neglect, his language.

“My baby.” she moans in ascent, loudly and exultant and a little mournful.

“I gotchue, I got you.” he swears into her mouth and his hand wastes no time in slithering between her legs, elegant fingers cupping her and smearing her arousal around beneath his fingertips.

“Fuck them into me.” she begs, his hand swiping and rubbing at her heat until her hole clenches in desperation, wanting the burn of a stretch.

He is used to her instructions, they’d have accomplished nothing these last months without them, he is able to obey without ceding one bit of control in the kiss and the dichotomy of it, of him, makes her spiral as long fingers plunge, three at a time into her like he’s mad at her, and she cums from it alone with a hoarse cry of shock. He leans up and over her, hair aglow in the dim light and his hand beginning to slam again and again between her legs, forearm hard at work before he brings his wrist to her mouth.

“Bite.” he tells her, an offer and an order and she does, repaying him the vicious assault below her waist where she is tugged apart and jammed at with all too much finesse, his thumb swiping at the apex of her slit everytime he plunges knuckle deep. Gale knows by now the signs of her peak but he pushes beyond it, adds his pinky until all four digits wreak havoc and makes her go again. She uses his wrist out of necessity not to wake the whole place. The sounds of her squelching may have done it for her.

He pets her after, his palm warmed up by his work and it cups and soothes her as she jerks and jolts and settles, and his nose nuzzles her own sweetly, murmuring her name again and again just how she likes it.

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again.” he begs between smooches and Maureen feels entirely too weak to deny him.

“Ok.”

“Promise?” his tone and his hand grow firm again.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” he sighs beside her and she thinks she could fall asleep now he’s wrung her out. He pets her a few moments longer, as if loathe to pull his hand free. He cups her one more time, collecting her wetness in the crook of his fingers before at last he does, carefully bringing his hand up and out of her waistband. He holds it in front of himself for a brief moment as if debating how to enact his thoughts, and she watches him curiously because he does not lick his digits clean like usual, perhaps she is too soiled tonight, even for his devotion.

Instead she watches him roll onto his back, hand still aloft and glittery with an obscene amount of sticky pleasure and his other hand trails to his own fly, popping the button deftly with his left hand and tugging down the fastening. Her breath catches in her throat, suspense and arousal at the familiar motion making her perk once more. Gale shimmies his clothing down his thighs until she can see him just barely, lying fat and peaceful against his thigh. He deserves a little peace, she thinks, now that she is not so cross with him.

She holds his gaze in startled suspense as he locks eyes with her, wanting her to stare when he moves his wet hand down and wraps it around himself, smearing her juices all over his soft member, clear and creamy swirls rubbed into the pink meat of him, down to his very balls.

“There,” he manages between her kisses as she assails him anew with desperate appreciation, “you’ve still got me. I’m still yours.”

She drags her hand down there to feel the sticky evidence of his promise, to rub and fondle him as he lays dormant in her palm. She has often snickered to him that he is too tidy to ever fully have sex, he has had qualms over even what they do with their hands, their mouths as well. He was pleased she could swallow only for the mess it prevented. She’s often told him he’ll find coupling a filthy business and he oughta brace himself. This tacky feeling under her palm is the closest they’ve ever gotten to the act, her fluids touching him there, drying on him. She appreciates the gesture, more than here heart can bear to ponder: she also knows he’ll regret it.

“I’ve got some amends to make.” she acknowledges after giving him one last kiss and checking that the coast is clear. Egan is doubtless still awake as usual and perhaps Brady, but it can’t be helped and she doesn’t give a damn. “Try to be quiet -don’t think too hard on it, it’s fine if this is all it is.” she preemptively cautions before he can realize what she intends.

She slinks down the length of him, careful not to jar the whole bunk, careful to keep a low profile to the blankets before dipping her head in the little nest of covers shoved around his thighs. Despite her assurances Gale makes a keening noise of confusion when her tongue darts out without preamble and licks up the seam of his balls.

“Maureen.” he sounds half strangled but his hand flies out, not to prevent her, but to pet her lustrous hair. She feels utterly content in that moment and continues her quest to tidy him up.

“You hate being sticky.” she reminds in a whisper before gently sucking on his soft tip, she can feel his belly heaving in relaxed sighs, the connection not fully alive and yet, potent all the same, he pets her hair more firmly and even pushes her head down further and she gets the hint, abandoning his soft cock head for the chubby vein beneath, licking stripes of herself off him.

“I’m sorry I hurt you.” she whispers to the inanimate little thing, remembering how meanly she squeezed it the night before. “I swear we’re still friends.”

Gale vaguely registers her apology to his bits and bobs but he is genuinely more distracted by two glinting shards across the room that have to be Bucky’s blazing eyes. Trained right on him. Holy hell, he feels himself shake and the closest thing to a twitch animates between his legs before he throws his hand over his eyes and pretends he is very alone. He pets her head more purposefully, long, feminine strands slipping through his fingers.

John Egan once put a bet on how long it would take these idiots to learn they were in love. It was once all a bit funny. And now, seeing in a dim haze what appears to be the ritual of making up, it’s not so funny any more. Today could have gone far worse, any attention to the women was bad attention and having Ida have to make a scene while hiding a belly like that was nearly criminal in Bucky’s mind.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t glad for Gale. No, he was so glad he was half jealous watching, imagining more than even seeing. He wondered if Maureen knew how much she loved him, he wondered how it compared to his own, and he ached like hell.

Next morning Gale woke up with a sore spot on his chest from the weight of her head lying there all night, and to the tinkering sounds of the metal water jugs being jostled. There was a laugh and a responding “shh” and another stifled laugh following. He rolled his head on the pillow and blearily cracked an eye open, taking in Brady and Maureen over their task. Or at least, Johnny was trying while fighting some whispered bit of comedy that Maureen continued despite Johnny’s wheezing protests and incompetent fumbling with his handles.

“You ain’t bein’ quiet, if ya think you are.” Benny’s grumble from the bunk below said what Gale was thinking, but he was too relieved to see Maureen awake, cheerful and integrated again to complain.

“I’m telling him about a Romanian girl in the other sector, met her yesterday.” Maureen stage whispered and Brady began to lose it again, muffling his whole face into his sleeve, milk pail abandoned on the floor so he could laugh. “There’s a fence between and she’s a fighter pilot but she’s seen him at his laps and she wants him.”

Benny stayed quiet a minute before his own laugh started and Gale could feel the vibrations of it from a whole bunk below. “She put in an order or somethin’?”

“Practically.” Maureen drawled, “She was so relieved to meet an American so arrangements can be made for my fellow. She has cows back home Johnny, she’d trade ten for you. Those big Eastern European cows, straight from a storybook, it’s worth consideration.”

“Grab your jug.” Johnny insisted instead in a small wheeze as he collected his own and strode out, looking behind to ensure she was following and beginning to laugh at eye contact. Maureen threw her head back and guffawed that ugly little cackle of hers as she went out.

“I think we missed part of the first act.” Benny observed about the joke from below, Gale didn’t know what talent it was but his co-pilot always seemed to sense when he was awake, no checking needed.

“Yup.” Gale puffed into his pillow, not giving a damn about the content of her material only that some material was back.

Someone else who was shit at playing asleep was John Egan. Gale slunk out of his bed quietly to not awake everyone else and went over to the sprawled out form of his friend, Ida tucked behind his back and the wall, genuinely asleep despite the nicotine she had coursing through her. Gale reached out and flicked at an overgrown curl dangling over his friend's face, the return momentum of it tickled his nose and he sneezed on compulsion.

“Sleep well?” Gale asked as Bucky stared up at him, betrayed and crinkly faced.

“Was.” he accused.

“Talk?” Buck proposed in a monosyllable and he watched Egan’s raw morning eyes shutter closed into something as readable as millponds.

“Yeah, sure.” There was a series of grunts and heaves of effort as Bucky righted himself and finally pushed out of the bunk, “Hall?” he asked while contemplating just how little he wanted to don boots right now.

“Hall’s fine.”

They went out together, it was quiet in the hall despite the awakening rustle in the various rooms off it. It stayed quiet once they’d both taken a wall to lean against because Gale Cleven wasn’t good at broaching topics despite his bravery to initiate their surroundings. Egan had a sense what this was about, but then, things usually weren’t about the thing they were about, they were about another thing reflected in the thing and that’s where he got lost. But watching Gale Cleven take in a breath five times only to exhale and chew his lip got a little tedious, even by his standards for how much he enjoyed watching his Buck at anything.

If this was about being observed last night, Egan sure as fuck wasn’t gonna take the blame for seeing shit in a packed dormitory. Or, combine, barracks, whatever. So, a sentence like -sorry I watched you get licked at like a bowl of milk last night- didn’t reflect his sentiments at all. And he’d never lied to Buck, not once, except maybe about not social engineering his way onto planes during rough missions. So instead he went with an easy going, “Must be nice to almost get everyone killed then get rewarded for it.”

Gale’s eyes sharpened instantly but the harsh retort Egan panted for didn’t come, instead something tired took over and Gale pinched his nose. “We’re all goin’ a little looney in here.”

“Are we?” Bucky hummed combatively, “How you crackin’ up these days?” it wasn't fair his Buck had all this weight on him and a fussy woman besides.

“I’m havin’ an affair with a fellow officer.” Gale recited in a devastated montone, and Egan hadn’t expected such transparency. Not in criminal language.

“Well,” he ceded, “there is that.”

“And occurrences like last night are gonna need to keep happenin.” Gale was informing him and Bucky didn’t know what to do with that, his tone was that of an officer but his soft blue eyes flicked with a plea to be understood. “To keep her -tame. Some sorta sane. She’s like you, she wasn’t meant for this place.”

“Just last week you told me nobody was.” Egan pointed out just to be contrary but he couldn’t help his grin and Buck caught sight of it before he could suppress it, knowing the banter and its innate kinship was back.

“I need you to promise me somethin’.” Gale went on, a nervous hand rubbing at the back of his neck and Bucky perked at the sight of that tick.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to promise to wait a week before you try anythin’.” Gale said, “You said I’d come up with somethin’ and I will, but I need a week Bucky. Give me that, can’t let you leave here without any direction of where to head toward. Wait on that radio, don’t you go off gettin’ yourself shot and Ida, too.”

A week in this place felt like a year, a week with an ever swelling woman felt like an eternity of valuable, crucial time. Bucky ran his bare toes over the splintering wood and tried to focus on the way the wood shards pricked at his frozen toes. “Alright.” he agreed, couldn’t help himself when Buck was looking at him like that and telling him he didn’t want him to die. “Alright.” He repeated more forcefully just to see Gale’s face clear and some old expression of peaceful relief smooth out his worry lines, not as much as Maureen’s tongue could do, Bucky wagered, but it was a little relief of his own he could give. “But you make a poor incentive for obeying you.” he pointed out cheekily, shoving off his wall to advance on Gale and shove a finger in those still full cheeks, “You gonna reward me if I disobey an’climb over on day six?”

Gale rolled his eyes, an expression all too pretty with his cheek distorted by Egan’s rough fingers, his eyes wary and loving all at once, Bucky had missed that look, it was coy as hell and one of his favorites on his friend. “Don’t count on it.”

💋 Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, please feel free to scream in comments or the inbox, I love it and wanna hear it all. Trust me, nothing is “too dumb”. Your thoughts mean the world to me.

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#masters of the air #mota #mota fanfic #mota oc #mota imagine #john egan fanfiction #Gale Cleven fanfiction #bucky egan fanfiction #Buck Cleven fanfiction #gale cleven x oc #those who can #integrated au

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widowsistersandfriends · 1 day

Text

It's Time To Smile

Request: I’m so bad at asks sorry, but could you maybe write something for Scarlett/Florence/Lizzie (or a combo, up to you) x reader with some really gentle twords? Any ideas you’ve got are totally cool, but maybe tummy focus? Yikes sorry I’m the worst at asks but feel free to experiment!

Summary: The reader is a stunt double in the new Avengers movie and is struggling with her success in landing her stunts. Lizzie, Florence, and Scarlett know a way to cheer her up (lee!reader x ler!Scarlett x ler!Lizzie x ler!Florence)

Note: Thank you so much for this request! This is my first time writing for these three, so I hope I did okay! Hope you enjoy :)

Word Count: 1393

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You were working on a new role in a movie, but not the typical one people think of. You were the stunt double for Scarlett’s character Natasha in this new Avengers movie. Even though you weren’t one of the main stars or anything, you knew your role was crucial for the success of this movie.

Your athleticism and training had prepared you well for this, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any challenges. As much as you practiced, it was still difficult to land some of the stunts and you were starting to get frustrated with yourself.

You sat alone during a break from filming, head in your hands. You were quietly whispering to yourself to get it together. While it was unlikely, you knew it was possible for them to replace you with someone better.

You were deep in your thoughts when you heard a voice.

“Y/N? Are you okay? What are you doing here all alone?” Lizzie asked, slowly approaching you.

“Oh, it’s nothing, I’m fine,” you said, waving her off.

“You don’t look fine,” Lizzie commented, taking a seat next to you.

You waited in silence for a bit, not knowing where to start. Lizzie knew your gears were grinding, so she gave you some time to think.

“It’s just…I don’t feel like I’m doing my job well enough,” you said with a sigh.

“Why do you think that?” Lizzie asked.

“It’s just that these stunts are really hard, but it’s my job and I can’t even do it right,” you said with frustration.

“Hey hey, it’s okay. We all know how difficult it is, and that’s exactly why we have you do them. We can do some stunts, but we can’t do them to your ability. None of us are here to judge you because you’re here to help us do what we can’t,” Lizzie comforted, while patting your back gently.

“I know, I’m just really hard on myself and I want this movie to do well,” you said, resting your chin in your hands.

“I promise you, you’ll land those stunts and we’re gonna break the box office with this movie,” Lizzie said, still rubbing your back gently.

You nodded, showing that you acknowledged what she said.

“Do you believe me?” Lizzie asked.

You thought for a second before responding, feeling more playful now.

“I don’t know if I can trust someone who can’t do their own stunts,” you said cheekily.

“Oh you little turd! You’re not even my stunt double!” Lizzie responded, now curling her fingers to scratch and wiggle against your back.

You were caught off guard and yelped, arching your back and quickly trying to twist away from her.

“Stop!!” You pleaded weakly, backing up against the couch you were sitting on.

Suddenly, Scarlett and Florence entered the room, hearing your pleading and thinking something was wrong.

“What’s going on?” Scarlett asked, worried that you were hurt.

“Your little stunt double here was lacking some confidence, so I comforted her, but then she decided to be brat,” Lizzie said, smirking as you were squirming from her squeezing the back of your neck.

“Lehehehet mehehe gohoho,” you giggled, reaching up to remove her hands, which just gave her access to poke you in the ribs. You let out a bark of laughter before curling up into a ball.

“Wanna help me tickle her to pieces? Lizzie asked Scarlett and Florence.

“Yeah, I think she needs some cheering up right? She was sad earlier?” Florence teased, approaching you with an evil grin.

“No! Never!” You declared stubbornly, clamping your mouth closed and refusing to smile.

“Natasha 2.0, you know you’re outnumbered right?” Scarlett said, helping the other two pin you to the couch.

Florence sat on your legs and began lightly tickling your feet. You squeezed your eyes shut, bucking against them to throw them off.

“Awwww, what’s the matter, Y/N? Ticklish?” Scarlett asked, slowly rolling your shirt up.

She began to add in on the tickling, spidering her fingers up and down your sides. You let out a snort, but quickly covered it up as a cough.

“I heard that Y/N,” Scarlett said, narrowing her eyes down at you, as you avoided eye contact.

Lizzie joined in, holding your arms above your head and using one hand to tickle your armpits.

All three of them tickling you was too much to not smile, which you reluctantly broke out into one.

“AWWW there’s that smile,” Lizzie cooed. However, a smile is all they got…for now.

“We gotta find her weak spot to really make her break,” Florence commented, now getting off of your legs.

“Where’s your most ticklish spot hmm?” Scarlett asked, eyeing your torso.

“Why would I tell you that?” You asked, struggling to escape.

“Because we need to hear your precious laugh and make sure you’re all cheered up,” Lizzie said, poking around your torso.

You flinched when she poked around your stomach and quickly pushed her hands away.

“Oh? I think I found itttt,” Lizzie teased, as she brought your hands above your head again.

“Scarlett? Wanna do the honors? She’s your little mini me after all,” Lizzie suggested.

“Scarlett no!! I trusted you!” You croaked, begging her to not tickle your stomach.

“Oh I’ve so gotta see this,” Scarlett said with a grin. With that, she took her ten nails and dragged them over your soft bare stomach, making you twist and jump against the sensation.

“I’m hardly even doing anything,” Scarlett giggled.

“I knohohow buhuhut ihihit tihihickles,” you giggled, unable to hold them back.

“Oooh I hear some giggles,” Florence teased, as you blushed.

Without warning, Scarlett began to wiggle her fingers as fast as she could over any part of your stomach she could reach.

“WAHAHAIT STAHAHAP PLEHEHEASE,” you screamed, attempting to yank your arms down.

“Stop what? Tickling you? Making you laugh because you’re so extremely ticklish?” Scarlett teased, as you thrashed and jerked on the couch.

“YEHEHES STAHAHAHAP IHIHI CAHAHANT STAHAHAHAND IHIHIT,” You squealed, as she began squeezing the sides of your stomach.

You felt your eyes begin to water, so they gave you a quick break.

“Are you gonna let me go now?” You scoffed.

“Not with that attitude,” Lizzie commented, and switched spots with Scarlett.

“Noooo plehehehease,” you begged, unable to handle much more.

“Please tickle you some more? You got it!” Lizzie said cheekily, as she bent down to blow three consecutive raspberries right over your belly button.

You screamed with laughter, eventually having it go silent.

“Wow that’s good,” Florence commented, as you rolled your eyes.

“Want some more?” Lizzie asked.

“NO! STOP I MEHEHEHEAN IHIHIT AHAHAHAHAHA,” you screamed with laughter, as she blew more raspberries all over your tummy.

“Wait, I wanna try something,” Florence said, switching spots with Lizzie.

“I promise this will be the last tickling you get,” Florence said, but you were unconvinced.

Florence slightly folded your waist band down, just enough to expose your lower stomach and waist.

You shook your head in fear, out of words to say or beg.

“Cat got your tongue?” Florence asked, before using her two index fingers to scratch away at your waist, causing you to twitch and jolt every which way, while you begged for her to stop through your laughter.

“Two fingers is all it takes? That’s insane,” Florence commented, as she now spidered all over your lower tummy.

“MEHEHERCY OHOH MY GOHOHOD,” you cried, struggling to get any more words out.

“Oh alright, you’ve had enough,” Florence said, and got off of you.

The three girls helped you sit up and got you a cold cup of water.

“Feel better?” Scarlett asked.

“From being sad or the tickling?” You asked.

“Both,” the three of them all responded.

“I do,” you said with a smile.

“Even if it was torture for you?” Lizzie teased.

“It wasn’t even that bad,” you said, trying to play tough.

“Really? Do we need to remind you how ticklish your stomach is?” Scarlett asked, as you quickly said no and jumped away from them, leading to lots of laughs at your expense.

You guys eventually resumed filming for the day. Maybe there was magic in those tickles, or the threat of them, but you were able to master every stunt you did that day and the movie ended up being a big success.

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arrowettexx · 13 hours

Text

DC CHARACTERS THANOS SNAP HCs :

KON-EL :

-Kon-el to nobody’s surprise infact DID NOT survive the mf snap.

- thanos put an order out for Kon-el to specifically be snapped out of existence.(due to pure annoyance)

- bro would lie and say he survived and was just “In HiDInG”

- bro would be in sm denial

-gaslight people into believing he was a threat to thanos and that’s why he was snapped 💀

CISSIE KING JONES:

-cissie king Jones DID survive the thanos snap

-Girl did NOT care that half of the world was gone.

-ends up finding roy harper and Jason when deciding to try and find Tim and any other batfamily members at the Wayne manor

- news flash… bitches were nowhere to be seen so. Ykw that means ? NEW CRIB!

-they all just don’t care that half the world is gone together

- then it hits her. HER MOM IS GONE!?

-she celebrated and in fact again did.not.care💀

- 5 years later everyone came back ..

-bitch.was.PISSED.

-her mom was there to annoy her once more 🥲

ROY AND JASON

-roy and Jason some how SURVIVED the thanos snap.

-they were together when it happened and let me tell you these two boys DID NOT NOTICE FOR A ANTIRE MONTH.

- found out only when jason called the wayne manor for money with no response .. cissie randomly answered with a voicemail saying “hoe the moneys gone. We all poor out in this bitch now” a day later

-but Jason and Roy had already BEEN broke so they took this as a middle ground and went on with they’re merry lives

-Roy and Jason want to the manor because.. they know where home at😖

-5 years later everyone re appears BROS DID NOT NOTICE AGAIN. they were just like “yo”

- Let’s just say the boys weren’t too much help with letting everyone who has vanished in on what tf happened.

BARRY ALLEN

- Barry Allen DID NOT survive the thanos snap

- honestly thank god tho. I don’t think bro could handle another issue.

- bro had to deal with the speed force.Flashpoint,doomsday, and apocalyptic war. Bro took this one off

- when he’s back tho.. awh man. . The boy feels awful

- had to process the fact that he left iris again during that 💀

- besides those factors, he takes the news that he’s been magically gone for five years pretty well, he’s no stranger to time jumps.. just this time it wasn’t on his own accord

- he sure as hell does everything he can to help anyone and everyone get things where they were before.

-he reunites with the Justice League and force them to help in any way possible

-they agree

-he’s so sweet I love him.

SHAZAM AND JOHN CONSTINTINE

-Billy batson DID NOT survive the thanos snap…

-shazam on the other hand DID!

-Billy was starting to vanish and in a panic yelled “SHAZAM”

-no more vanishing!

-5 YEARS HE WAS STUCK IN THE ADULT BODY…

- boy was terrified to say shazam again..

- to his luck Constantine had survived, and begged him to put a spell on him that made him unable to speak the word shazam so he could never turn back on accident.

-John allowed Billy to come back with him to the house of mystery, after all, Billy was technically a magic user

- the world of magic technically had nothing to do with earth and the snap so Billy came in handy when it came to Constantine’s deals and quarrels with demons.

- Constantine saw the snap as natural selection and was okay with it.

- until he found that zatanna had been on earth and did not survive the snap.

- he drank a lot after that.

- five years later Billy got the spell removed and was able to BE Billy again

- Billy was over joyed at seeing everyone again.

-Constantine was… well ..Constantine.

STATIC SHOCK

-Virgil Hawkins DID SURVIVE the thanos snap!

- Virgil was lucky asf in this case bc the power/electricity was def not 100% working

-Virgil was going around using his energy to provide light to homes, power to hospitals ect,

-believe it or not he chose to stay on his own during the blip.

- he figured it would be better not to get attached when the chabce of survival was now somewhat lower

-didn’t even try to contact anyone

-(boy didn’t wanna face the facts on who he would never see again)

-at year four he kinda gave up and ended up somewhere in bloodhaven.

- a part of him was praying that Barry Allen was alive and would (selfishly) turn back time

- when everyone came back? He was kinda angry?

-he lowk was mad that everyone had to suffer through those 5 years and the blipped ones didn’t.

- he found nightwing (he was blipped aka DID NOT survive the snap) and tried to pick a fight with him for being so joyful during all this (granted he didn’t know-).

- he understood it wasn’t the worlds fault tho and just tired to do his best with helping explain to everyone what had happened.

- (at the end of the day he’s just a teenager )

- he took some time to re adjust to everyone being back. But eventually found peace

SELINA AND DUKE

-selina Kyle and duke thomas DID both survive the thanos snap!!

-they were with eachother on a bat fam mission when all of a sudden *POOF* they were all gone except for duke, Selina, Kate and Damian

-Kate and Damian almost immediately went their separate ways without notice

- Selina didn’t panic, in fact she was pretty calm with all of this

-Thomas on the other hand.. HE WAS A MESS

- full panic mode on his part

- after a little calming down they went to Wayne manor to find nobody they’re either.

- they stuck together travelling to metropolis to once again find nobody except for Lois lane who did survive.

- they all co existed together (lot easier to live there than gotham without the bat so)

- when they came back DUKE WAS SO HAPPY he cried .

-Selina was calm as always as they made their way back to gotham where ALL HELL WAS BREAKING LOOSE ON THE STREETS

- people were so confused

- everyone went back to Wayne manor (dick, Tim, Steph, babs and the rest of the blipped batfam) to find Cissie , Jason, and Roy living there and those three were SHOCKED.

- “awh man now we gotta move out!!”

- big family reunion for the batfam 💗

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giotanner · 2 days

Text

After reading Batman 206 #147 and browsing through some online comments, I felt sorry that some thought the story somehow diminished Damian Wayne to highlight Tim Drake.

Speaking as a fan of Tim Drake, I believe he deserves recognition for his merits that have been overlooked for all these years. People reading comics in recent years found Tim useless, and… I get it. It wasn't clear what he was up to; he seemed like an outsider not included in the most important parts of the story. Which… rude, right? With the emergence of Jason and Damian, Tim seemed lost in terms of character development. They brought him back as Robin, but he seemed sidelined, without good writing.

Now, Tim Drake was one of the Robins who

1) chose to be Robin

and

2) uncovered the vigilantes' identities and knew he had to become Robin because Batman needed him as his partner.

It all boils down to this, and the last issue shows how this harmony between Tim and Bruce is crucial. This agreement between a young man who had to work hard because he wasn't a "natural," things didn't come easily to him, yet he persevered.

All of this is to say that I don't understand how this is damaging to Damian Wayne.

Let me explain my point of view: Damian blindly trusts Bruce, his father. And an abused child (by the League) who then grows up in a "healthy" environment (bat-family), where a father loves him… will struggle to find fault even though everyone tells him otherwise.

Sure, Dick is an important figure, and what happened to Jason during Gotham War is a wake-up call. BUT. At the same time, Damian is a fourteen-year-old boy who has finally grown from being that defensive, angry child.

Please, let's acknowledge that his character has had development. And precisely because of this development, he has more trust in Bruce Wayne. HE FEELS SAFE. Sure, he's Robin, and he's a detective, and he's intelligent, but he also trusts his father. And unfortunately, this leads him to make mistakes.

Instead, Tim in canon lies to Batman; he was that kid who wanted evidence first: that's how he discovered Batman, that's how he found out Bruce wasn't dead but lost in time.

It's not bad writing in my opinion. It's not a way to weaken Damian and highlight Tim. No. They are just two different characters who have grown in different ways. So I'm loving how this story is continuing.

#tim drake #damian wayne #dc comics #the point is we forgot Tim somewhere and when he comes back it always seems like it's “to cause damage to Damian” but it's not #that's because we're so used to lazy writing now where it's other people doing something (Dick Jason Damian)#and so when we then instead have every thousand thousand years something that Tim does...#it always seems like a “but we could have gotten Jason Dick Damian” to do this!#ehhh yes obviously #bat family #batfam #tim drake robin #batman 147 #batman and robin #bruce wayne #batman comics

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httpiastri · 12 hours

Text

PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER TWO (JEDDAH)

genre: angst, fluff, comfort, etc.

word count: 6k

warnings: hmmm nothing except heartbreak in several scenes lol

author's note: guys im really sorry but im pretty mean to paul here..... like it got to the point where i rewatched jeddah videos of him and physically felt ill because i was mad at him LMAO 😭 but we'll get through this together!! this was supposed to include some other scenes but it was long enough as it was sooo 😶 summary for this chapter ig is yn feels very torn between her boys, and so do i. hope everyone has a good week (it's finally race week again aaaaa) !! 💗

also i think the next chapter might be shorter because i just wanna get it out already and i don't have a lot to write about in it hehe, fingers crossed that i can finish it soon<3

(alsoooo i proofread this a few days ago but i just cant find the energy or time to do it rn, praying that there are no big issues…. if there are, i would be so thankful if you could send me an ask or message etc 🙏)

series masterlist

"i still can't believe i missed out on the top ten again. and by just three hundredths, even..."

pepe shakes his head as you both make your way out of the campos truck, dragging a frustrated hand through his hair before pulling on his red bull cap. you can't help but chuckle – he's been like this all day, and all evening yesterday. you understand it, though; finishing just outside the reverse grid pole once again must feel frustrating.

not that you can relate. with a much better qualifying session yesterday in your second-ever qualifying in formula 2, you managed to snatch an eight-place finish. in other words, you will be starting third in today's sprint race, and just the thought of the probability of getting some big points sends tingles through your entire body.

"you'll get it next time," you say with a pat on your friend's back. "i mean, look at ollie. from p-nowhere last week to pole yesterday. that can be you next time around."

you've just come out of your morning meeting – morning meaning starting at ten and ending around noon – and now you're finally getting some lunch in the red bull hospitality. even during a race weekend like this, with mostly evening and night sessions, you still managed to oversleep and almost didn't make it in time for your meeting. you didn't get to have any breakfast, you had to run all the way from the shuttle to the truck, and you even forgot one of your racing boots as well as your phone in your hotel room. thankfully, you'll still have time to go back to the hotel before the sprint race, but walking around without your phone feels like being naked.

"speaking of ollie," pepe starts as you turn left and head into the formula one paddock. "are things between you two... alright?"

your eyebrows furrow together at the pause in the middle of his sentence. "why wouldn't they be?"

"well, i..." he stops again, and it makes you want to shake him. "i heard something. but it doesn't matter."

"who are you to decide that it doesn't matter?" you scoff. "tell me."

pepe sighs – he knows fighting you over this is a losing battle. you're way too stubborn to let go of this. "i heard that you were having issues. that you aren't happy, or something along those lines..."

you stop in your tracks, brain working in overdrive to comprehend what your friend is telling you. not happy with ollie? why would you not be happy with him? "who told you this?"

pepe stops in front of you. "i heard it from kimi, who heard it from... paul."

"what?" your eyes squeeze shut as your hands interlace on top of your head. "why would kimi come to you? instead of asking ollie himself?"

"you know kimi," pepe starts instantly. "he's young and gullible. i think he wanted to go for the see-if-the-best-friend-knows-anything strategy instead of asking ollie straight out." his hands squeeze your shoulders softly and you look up at him, a hint of a pout on your lips. "i guess he was scared that ollie would get mad at him or something."

"it's just-" you sigh. "it doesn't make any sense, does it?" pepe is just about to say something more when you cut him off with a dismissive swat of your hand in the air, stepping away from him and continuing your walk down the paddock. "let's just forget about it. i need lunch."

pepe stands frozen for a few moments before hurrying up to you again. he can't quite read your mood – you look unbothered, but he can't help but notice the slight touch of redness of your ears and the way your eyes seemingly can't focus on one thing for long enough. there's no way you can be over it already.

with pepe shutting up for a little while for the first time ever, you're left all alone with your thoughts as you continue your stroll. you know you should've asked for more information; you should've asked for details, for exactly what kimi said and how he worded it. you probably should also ask kimi himself for what paul told him. but right now, it's like a shadow is clouding your vision.

how dare paul say something like that? he must've known that the rumors he made up would spread like wildfire, as they always do in the formula paddocks. the snowball effect can make something tiny become huge, which is why you're always cautious about rumors. but apparently, paul doesn't care about that.

you're far too enraged to think even straight, and that's why it takes pepe pulling your arm to make you stop walking. you frown – to be fair, your frown hasn't left since it appeared a few minutes ago – but when you realize what it is that he's pointing at, both your frown and your jaw drop.

there's a swarm of journalists and fans following a ferrari driver down the road in front of you, which isn't all that uncommon. both charles and carlos are always incredibly popular. but what blows your mind is the fact that when you finally catch a glimpse of the driver's face, it's neither of the team's main drivers.

it's ollie.

"ollie! mate!" pepe yells, his arm waving erratically over his head. it takes a moment for the brit to find the owner of the voice, but he's tall enough to look over everyone else, and he's soon making his way over to you both. "i know you're popular, but this all seems a little excessive, don't you think?"

"i don't know what happened, as soon as the news came out..." ollie lets out a chuckle before turning to you, eyebrows raised at your expression. "i've called you like a hundred times, what have you been up to?"

"i left my phone at the hotel-" you begin but cut yourself off and shake your head. "wait, what news?"

when ollie starts speaking, time slows down. the entire world around you goes dark, the only thing you can hear being ollie's explanation of how carlos needs surgery and the call he got as he was having lunch. you feel lightheaded, almost like you could faint, when he speaks his final words. "...and they said i will be the one to replace him. i'm driving the formula one grand prix tomorrow."

you don't waste any time before throwing yourself into his arms, a loud squeal passing through your lips. "are you kidding me?" you exclaim, hugging him even tighter. "this is incredible, ollie! oh my god, i..."

"i can't really believe it myself, to be honest," ollie says, shaking his head as you part from the hug. pepe slaps his shoulder, congratulating his friend. "i would love to stay and chat, but i need to be in the car for the last practice, and i have a lot to get done-"

"go! go!" you usher, softly shoving him away back towards the journalists and fans who are still waiting just a few meters away. "we will talk later, okay?"

"of course."

and then you watch him leave – your boyfriend, the soon-to-be formula one driver – with a much lighter heart. this definitely helps you forget about all of the things regarding paul.

at least for a little while.

but of course, pepe stops your train of thought. "does that mean i get the reverse grid pole?"

you've never ever been to the ferrari garage before, so as you stand in the middle of it, you have no idea where to go or what to do; this is completely new territory. thankfully, you got a vip-pass from ollie before he ran off for his pre-practice duties, so at least you have the privilege of looking like a fool inside of the garage instead of right outside the doors.

a fool dressed in a red bull race suit, even. great.

you were in the middle of preparations for your sprint race when ollie texted you, and since you still had some time before the race started, you made it over to the other side of the paddock as quickly as you could. but unfortunately, that meant that you didn't have time to change your outfit into something more discreet.

"you don't look like you belong here, miss," a voice rumbles from behind you. your heart stops in your chest, and you're ready to improvise an excuse or find an escape route when you turn around – but luckily, you're met with chris, ollie's manager, standing there.

"thank god you're here," you say, letting out a sigh of relief. "do you happen to know where ollie is?"

"he's borrowing carlos's room. it's right down the hall and to the left."

you quickly thank him, turning again and making your way down said hallway. the room is easy to find, the two big, red fives on the door sticking out among the white walls. you're glad to find it unlocked, but you still knock a few times before sticking your head inside.

"sweetheart? can i come in?"

ollie is sitting on a massaging table, elbows on top of his legs and head resting in his hands. his eyes are stuck on the floor, but you take his silence as a yes.

"i got your text," you say, tiptoeing inside and shutting the door behind you, careful to not make any loud sounds to scare him. "how are you doing?"

when he still doesn't answer, your heat rate picks up. is something really wrong?

you make your way over to him, hands finding his cheeks and softly tilting him up to look at you – and you swear you've never seen him look this wrecked before.

not after his worst crashes, not when he lost the rookie championship last year. once again, you've entered completely new territory, and your heart breaks at the sight of him.

"ollie, talk to me," you plead, biting back the pout that starts to form on your lips. it's so painful to look into his eyes, but you can't back down. not now, not when he needs you this much.

"i'm-" his voice cracks but he shakes his head, clearing his throat. "i'm so nervous, i don't know what to do."

it's like he's oozing anxiety, and his heavy sigh is like a stab in your chest. ollie, your usually so calm and collected boyfriend, is probably going crazy over this – you know him well enough by now to understand that he's definitely freaking out even more on the inside than what he shows or tells. "i get that. one hundred percent. but," your thumbs begin to stroke over the skin of his cheeks, along his jaw, and then finally across his eyebrows, to which his eyes flutter closed. "this is your dream. it's been your dream since forever, and now you finally have the chance."

ollie sighs, but nods. you're getting to him.

"and it's not just any car, it's a ferrari. do you realize how cool that is? do you realize how many people would kill for an opportunity like this?" you smile at the sight of him with his eyes still shut, eyelashes resting atop his cheeks, messy fringe covering his forehead. even like this, at his most stressed state, he's completely gorgeous. "you would've killed for an opportunity like this just 24 hours ago."

"but what if i ruin it?" his voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, shoulders slumping forward. "what if i go out there and i'm shit, and then they realize what a big mistake they've done by even putting me in the academy? what if-"

"it won't happen." his eyelids slowly open and he looks up at you, seemingly not even the slightest upset that you cut him off. "you're too good to do that. you'll get in that car and it will feel like your second home, just like it always does."

finally, a small smile makes its way onto his lips. it's only been a few minutes since you came in, but he seems much more relaxed now, leaning into your touch completely. "i'll try my best to make you proud."

you pout. "i'll be proud even if you end up with a slower lap than your pole lap from yesterday."

a laugh bubbles from his chest and he stands up from the table, opening his arms wide and pulling you in for a tight hug. his heart is still beating louder than a drum in his chest when your ear is pressed up against it, and you're almost worried it will jump out any second. but his breaths are much more controlled now, and his mind seems much lighter.

he presses a long kiss to the crown of your head, arms squeezing you tight. "i really need to go, because the sprint starts in..." you shoot a quick glance to the clock on the wall. "forty-five minutes. my team is going to kill me. but go out there and show them, baby."

and that's exactly what he did.

though, that's not the only thing you were correct about; your team was indeed furious when you finally made it back to the campos garage. your main engineer, who was supposed to help you get strapped in and fix all of the last details with the car over fifteen minutes ago, was apparently so angry he left you to do everything yourself. it's not that you didn't know about your schedule; you just needed to be there for ollie before his big debut.

everything works out in the end, at least according to you, and you're soon settled in your car on the grid, waiting to go on your formation lap. however, you've barely gotten as much as a glance from anyone on your team. you can't help but press the button to activate your radio. "i'm really sorry, guys. i just... had to do something."

"hope it was worth it." the voice of one of your engineers booms through your earpieces instantly, the sternness in his tone sending a shiver down your spine. "we got a huge fine because you were so late to get into the car, so..."

another of your engineers speaks up. "let's focus on the race instead now. no need to fight."

maybe it was because you got to visit ollie right before the race, or maybe it was just starting third and having a good car. either way, the sprint race was one of your best races in a long time. not only did you pass richard verschoor starting one place ahead of you into turn one; you also overtook paul, who started from pole, before the end of the first lap and got to lead your first laps in formula two ever.

dennis came around to steal the lead from you, but just landing yourself a spot on the podium was enough for you to celebrate. when you scored a second-place finish where the guy in first place was one of your former academy members, it didn't really matter that the guy on the third step of the podium was your ex-boyfriend.

going through all media duties is always exhausting, but it's usually never as dreadful as it is today. sitting in that press conference, knowing that your boyfriend is starting his first ever formula one qualifying in just a few moments. you have to literally bite your tongue not to pull a valtteri bottas and ask the journalists how q1 is going.

when you're this busy, you don't really have any time to think about paul's rumors. though, something about it continues to loom in the back of your mind all evening. especially when he speaks in the press conference, despite how hard you try to not even look at him, and especially when he's asked about ollie.

as the press conference finally comes to an end, you're not the only one who wants to hurry out of there to watch the rest of the qualifying session. you and the rest of the podium trio find a big screen that's showcasing the session, and you all insist that you should stay and watch, despite the f2 staff members' continuous attempts to squeeze the last drops of content from you.

they keep stuffing their phones and cameras in your face, throwing all kinds of questions about ollie your way, but you refuse to budge. you won't let them ruin this moment for you.

you're sure they've gotten quite a lot of embarrassing pictures of you teary-eyed while admiring your boyfriend's results, though.

you follow the timing board like a hawk, but something breaks you out of your trance. "who are you watching?" your head snaps to the direction of the voice – the f2 instagram admin with her phone pointed to paul.

as if you all haven't been watching and chatting about ollie for the last ten minutes.

you try not to, you really do, but you can't help but roll your eyes at the sight of paul. he's trying to look all innocent, hugging his trophy to his chest as his big, blue eyes blink up at the screen in the distance. a year ago, you would've just thought he was adorable – but today, this frustrates you more than anything. "i'm watching my dear friend ollie," he starts, eyes finding the camera so easily.

dear friend, huh? a dear friend is someone you spread rumors about?

the next time he speaks up, you have to physically bite your tongue to not yell at him. "the guy who gave me one position on tomorrow's grid."

you turn your head away in pure disgust. how could he say something like that? is that the only thing he cares about, places in his starting grid for tomorrow's feature race? is he serious?

you want to escape, to just storm off and never speak to him again. but instead, you force yourself to take a deep breath and focus back on the thing you're here for. ollie is doing so well; when q2 ends and he has driven his last lap, he misses out on q3 by just over a hundredth of a second. he almost even manages to knock out the legendary lewis hamilton, his fellow countryman whom he's been following for as long as he can remember, in his first-ever qualifying session.

you've never been prouder.

"honestly, as long as i can just bring the car home without wrecking it completely, i'm satisfied."

you give ollie's hand a soft squeeze at his words, fingers intertwining as your hands rest on top of the hotel cafeteria table. your other hand lifts your sandwich to your mouth and you take a bite, chewing it down quickly before giving him a nod.

you know his statement is meant as a joke, but you know it's just as much of a truth as a lie. driving an actual ferrari f1 car is his biggest dream, and even just making an alright race probably is enough to make him happy. there's no pressure on him, no one is expecting him to perform a miracle or even score some points.

but at the same time, you know he would never be satisfied with himself if he "just" brought it home safely. ollie isn't like that; he's way too stubborn, too determined, too much of a sore loser. it's what makes him. no matter what he says, there's always going to be something inside of him telling him that he needs to do better.

"i think you'll score your first points today," you tell him with a shrug. "i can feel it."

"don't say that, we don't know anything yet."

a shake of your head in combination with that smile of yours is enough to make some hope spark in him. "well, you have the car for it," you start. "and you have the skills."

ollie stays silent, letting the distant chatter of the other hotel guests having their breakfast fill the air. the cafeteria is emptying out by now, but new faces have been dropping in for a long time now, most of them walking by to give ollie a pat on his shoulder or a quick "good luck, mate".

you put down the last of your sandwich, leaving it behind with the fruit rinds and other scraps on your plate. "but don't think too much," you hum, eyes softening as they land on his. he's trying to contain his worries and anxiety as much as he can, but the slight tilt of his eyebrows and the way his gaze tends to dart away every once in a while tells a different story. "it's just driving. it's just what you always do, no problem."

you hold your glass of orange juice up to him and he gets the hint, clinging his own glass to yours before downing the last of its contents.

you're just about to speak up again with new words of affection, but an icy feeling spreads through your body at the sight of paul entering the cafeteria. the feeling soon turns into real nausea, and you can't even remember what you were supposed to say when you realize that he's making his way towards the two of you.

you want nothing more than to stay and keep encouraging ollie, but you can't take it at this moment. you stand up from your seat, giving ollie's fingers one last squeeze. "i forgot that i have a meeting soon," you make up. "so i need to go. i'll come see you before the race, okay?"

he doesn't even get to say bye before you've stormed off.

unfortunately, you have to pass paul in order to make it to the exit, but you make no effort to even recognize that he exists. you keep your gaze straight ahead.

karl, paul's physio, does a quick greeting from you though – as well as a confused look at the candle pressed into a pastry in one of the hotel's yogurt bowls – but then, you're off to hide in your hotel room until you're needed at the track for race preparations.

of course paul had to come by and ruin everything yet again.

with a good race from yesterday in the bag, you thought you could keep the momentum into today. however, that didn't turn out to be the case.

when a trident driver hit you from behind in the first lap, you lost a few positions instantly and after that, it was a bit too tough to recover. you had opportunities for overtakes, and the car was good enough to go through with them, but you never could. you kept slipping up, making rookie mistakes, and falling back even further. it even got to the point where your team came on the radio to remind you to focus on the road.

but no matter how hard you tried, it wouldn't work. the entire race, something else clouded your mind.

or, more specifically, someone.

every time you even caught a glimpse of paul's silver car, it was like something in your mind short-circuited. the memory of your conversation with pepe, the thought about paul running around and spreading rumors about you in the paddock… you couldn't push the thoughts, or the anger, away.

other times, back in the day, you were always good at turning your anger into something positive for your races. if you were upset with your father for something he said about red bull or the junior program, you went out there and proved him wrong. if you heard that another driver had complained about how you just got your seat because you were a girl, you made sure to dominate the race.

your stubbornness was always your biggest strength. but today, it was like your tank had run out. as much as you wanted to completely crush paul, you didn't have the capability.

at least paul didn't have that good of a race, either.

the second you get out of your car, you storm off towards your garage. you know you'll probably get a lot of shit for your performance your entire debrief, but if you can at least get over with it sooner, then you can forget about it and refocus on the next race weekend. plus, you really want to catch ollie before he's away for his f1 debut.

thankfully, you're not the only one getting criticized during the debrief; the team is not very happy with pepe's start, nor his DNF. after they've gone on and on about how costly this weekend has been for the team for an hour, you're finally released, but not without one last reminder to "think about what you're doing here and whose time you're wasting".

it's natural to lose all energy and confidence after a race like this. but the second you're back in ollie's arms, it's like the world around you just disappears. he's always been the best at keeping you grounded.

you've probably never hugged him this tightly before, but you can't help it. the second your arms wrap around his neck, you pour everything you have into the embrace.

he looks so good, so handsome and professional dressed up in his ferrari race suit. not just his prema suit with the ferrari logo on it, but an actual ferrari outfit. he looks like a real f1 driver – and the realization that he indeed is a formula one driver now brings tears to your eyes.

"hey," he says around a chuckle. "don't cry on me, woman."

"i won't..." you reach up to wipe away a drop from the corner of your eye as you pull away slightly from his embrace, shaking your head. "i won't. i'm just so proud of you."

"why are you so sappy?" the scene in front of him brings a huge grin to ollie's lips – he finds you equal parts adorable and hilarious. "i'm just going out there to drive a car. no biggie."

"no biggie," you repeat with a scoff, dabbing your other eye quickly before doing your best to blink down your other tears. earlier today, you were the one saying all of this was no problem. and yet, now he is the one who has to convince you of it. "right. it's just your passion, the thing you love. but i'm still proud."

an engineer catches ollie's attention above your head, sending him a certain look that has your boyfriend nodding before giving you one last squeeze. "i think i should-"

"of course, go," you usher him, retracting from his arms. "i'll be here after, no matter what happens." he nods, and he's about to leave when you speak up one last time. "have fun, okay?"

"always."

who would've imagined that ollie would not only score points in his first ever f1 race, but also win driver of the day, have the most overtakes, and score a seventh place as the second best british driver of the race?

well, you had imagined everything from him coming last to winning the race by horse lengths. and yet, this was all so unexpected. if someone had told you on wednesday that ollie would score six f1 points three days later, you would've laughed in their face. but now, it feels like it's been a long time coming.

you weren't allowed to stay in the ferrari garage for the actual race – it would've been a pr nightmare for everyone involved – so your nerves were all over the place since you weren't able to hear ollie's radio messages, info about the strategies, and so on. at least you get to wait right outside the garage with jamie, chris and his dad david, being the first to congratulate him after such a good debut race.

he looks completely worn out when he finally walks out through the door, but you can almost feel the pride and happiness radiating from him. his sweaty hair rests messily on top of his head, and an ice vest is draped over his body already to cool him down from the insane heat. and, most importantly, the smile on his lips is bigger than it's been all week.

ollie looks like he doesn't ever want to let go of his dad's hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of david's neck for a long time. you can only guess what things the father is whispering in his son's ear, but when the result is ollie pulling him even closer, your heart expands in your chest.

when they part, it's jamie's and chris's times to congratulate the point-scorer, and when he pulls away from his manager's arms, his eyes land on you. you're pulled into his embrace in just a second, a giggle slipping past your lips when he lifts you up into the air and spins you both around. his strong grip around you never eases, not when he sets you down on your feet again and not when he starts speaking.

"i knew it would be hard, but..." he shakes his head, a sweaty fringe brushing against the side of your head. "my entire body is ruined. like, it doesn't hurt because i have so much adrenaline, but i'm going to be in so much pain later. my neck and my shoulders and-"

another one of your waves of laughter cut off his ramblings, and he joins in once he realizes what he's been doing. when you finally pull apart slightly and your hands come up to cup his cheeks, you're just staring into his eyes for what feels like forever.

your boy, the f1 driver.

"this is from your mum," you whisper to him, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "and this is from your sister." a kiss to his other cheek. "and... this is from me."

ollie has to crouch down slightly because even when you get onto your tippy toes, you can't reach all the way up to his forehead. but once you press your lips against his skin, all of the hidden tension in his eyebrows disappears. he's like putty under your touch.

"i'm so proud."

ollie's groans are muffled by the pillow his face is pressed into, head twitching when your thumbs press into some tense areas of his neck. you shush him jokingly, like a mother comforting a crying baby, but your movements never halt.

ever since he got out of that car, he's been complaining about how sore he is. especially his neck and shoulders, and all of the muscles that were most affected by the g forces. you don't blame him, however – he's got a free pass for pretty much everything for the next week, you think – but you decided to be a nice girlfriend and help him out. the strings of whines and swearwords he keeps letting out don't seem to be stopping anytime soon, though.

the lotion on your hands is enough for you to be able to glide your fingers across his upper back, along his shoulder blades, all over his freckled skin. as you're straddling his lower back, you can reach pretty much all angles of his upper body, and the knots in his muscles seem to be disappearing despite how painful your massage seems to be.

eventually, ollie tilts his head to the side, his blushed cheeks decorated with lines from the pillow underneath him. his slight pout is on full display and his tired eyes flutter closed as he speaks. "hey, y/n?"

"yes, ollie?" you reply, your thumb pressing into one especially stubborn knot in his right shoulder. ollie stays quiet for a few moments and takes a deep breath, almost as if he's gathering courage for something.

"you know that i love you right?"

the world around you stops.

everything freezes.

he loves me?

your breath hitches in your throat at the words. it's the first time he's ever said them, and though it's not the most uncommon thing for someone to tell their girlfriend of over six months, they make your head spin.

a mishmash of thoughts clouds your mind. they won't shut up for even a second. but the loudest thought is the only one you shouldn't have; it's about the only person you can't be thinking about right now.

the way that your mind instantly wanders off to paul is frankly embarrassing, but you can't help it. he's the first boy you've ever loved, the first person you've ever uttered those three words to. the only one. and no matter how badly you wish you could just forget about that and move on, he's still a part of you. he's your only real experience of love.

and this just isn't the same.

you want to say it back to ollie, you truly do. but at the same time, you don't want to say it if it isn't true – it's not fair to him.

ollie senses that something is up. your signs aren't exactly subtle, anyway; your movements have stopped completely and he can't even hear you breathing anymore. "hey, i'm sorry-"

"don't apologize," you interject instantly, shaking your head as you start to climb off his body. "you did nothing wrong. i'm the one who's sorry."

"stop that, you shouldn't be." he turns around, staring up at you with those big, brown eyes of his. "i don't expect you to say it back if you don't want to. i just..." he lets out a low sigh. "i wanted you to know, i guess."

you sit still for a few moments, before leaning down to place a kiss on his rosy cheek. "thank you." another pause. "it means a lot, you know?"

"well, you mean a lot to me."

and he does to you, too.

but is that enough?

ollie loves me.

he actually loves me.

he told me today after the race, and... i didn't say anything. i just sat there like a complete moron.

i couldn't say it back. i just don't feel what i felt for paul yet.

what's wrong with me?

why don't i race like i used to? why can't i control my emotions? was the sprint race yesterday just luck? did i really deserve that podium?

why does paul still affect me this much? why is he always there in my thoughts – when i'm racing, when i'm with ollie, when i try to sleep...

i have a perfect boyfriend and a great car, so why do i feel like everything is falling apart?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername p2 in the sprint 🥈 big thanks to the team for the hard work!! and i got to witness the rb p1-2 up close, congrats redbullracing 💙 also check slide 4 for an appearance from me and my former family on f1tv <3

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user y/n and the prema staff during the driver's parade 😭 they're so cute

→ user her referring to them as her family, byeeee

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user why is no one talking about the last slide???

→ user because i can't talk while i'm crying, sorry

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user great job this weekend y/n !!! thank you for signing my cap 🥺

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user loved to see her celebrate the red bull double podium even after a hard feature race ❤️

→ user she had to balance out the post with that max and checo pic 😭 would've been just ollie & prema otherwise

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user ollie looks like a baby in the second pic 🥲

→ user just a little boy playing with his toy cars

→ yourusername i had to hold his little teddy bear during the race to make sure it wouldn't get dirty

→ user stopppp you're so real for sharing that

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