#is obviously going to raise red flags

[lnfours]

us. | l.n

summary: and what seemed like fate becomes "what the hell was i doin'?" ; aka time heals all wounds, so they say, but has it been long enough for it to heal the one he left?

warnings: the highly requested part two to ‘august’, use of she/her pronouns, childhood friends to lovers, second chance romance, oscar giving lando advice bc duh, pining, language, lando absolutely word vomiting when it comes to his feelings, fluff towards the end.

‘august’ | listen | masterlist

oscar piastri took pride in being more observant rather than being the life of the party. he much rather preferred to be labeled as the 'wall hugger' rather than the wild child between him and his teammate. he let lando have that role, opting on sitting on the sidelines more often than not.

but tonight, it was completely different. the aussie driver had agreed to hitting the club in monaco tonight to celebrate charles' first home win and his own second place finish. he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on with his teammate, eyeing him as he sat down in the lounge area the group had gotten for the evening. something out of the normal for the brit.

he decided to take matters into his own hands, joining his friend on the couch. lando sent a tight lipped smile to his teammate, another red flag the aussie picked up on. he wasn't sporting his usual smile, the one that beamed. one of pure joy.

"you feeling alright, mate?" oscar asked, genuinely concerned.

lando nodded in response, "'m good, just a bit tired."

he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked out at the dance floor of people. the crowd normally lando would be in the middle of, but not tonight.

"gonna make me pry it out of you or are you just gonna tell me?"

lando chuckled softly, letting out a soft sigh, "y'know that new reporter for sky who was in the media pen earlier?"

oscar furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember your name, "think so? shit, what was her name?"

"y/n," lando said and oscar nodded in agreement.

"yeah, that's it," the aussie turned back to look at his teammate, "what about her?"

"well, a few years ago, her and i kind of..." lando trailed off, leaving his teammate to raise his eyebrows.

"you two had a thing?"

lando nodded, "yeah, she had a vacation rental next to mine in the states, and one summer we just really hit it off. y'know, we went on dates and eventually it turned into something more, and... oscar, i was in love with her."

the australian was shocked, "did you tell her?"

"i did," lando nodded, swallowing before continuing, "and i was with her when i got the call that they wanted me to join the team, and i just... i fucking left. i left without waking her up and saying goodbye. the best few months of my entire life, falling in love with someone who has never made me feel more loved and appreciated, and it all went down the drain because i fucked it all up."

oscar sat in silence for a minute, processing what the brit next to him had just told him, "well, do you still love her?"

"i never stopped," lando looked over at his teammate, his expression showing the guilt he still felt for leaving that one night, "i don't think i could ever."

"have you told her?"

he shook his head, "pretty sure she hates my guts, so, no."

oscar sighed, "listen, although she has every reason to hate you, i mean, i would too, doesn't mean deep down that she does. obviously, running into you again has probably brought up all of those feelings she worked to get over, but if you really feel the way you're telling me you feel about her, and it seems like you do, you gotta fight for it. you can't just let her slip through your fingers, again, and live a miserable life. nothing's gonna come out of it if you don't work for it."

lando sat in shock at his teammate, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. he had never known oscar to be this wise when it comes to relationship advice. he truly didn't know he had it in him.

"what?" the aussie laughed, "mate, i've been with lily for five years. you think we haven't had our own fair share of ups and downs?"

"no, i'm just amazed that at your age you're so wise." lando joked back, the two of them laughing.

"yeah, whatever," oscar waved him off, "but seriously, i mean what i said."

he nodded, "i know, i just don't know when i should talk to her."

oscar shrugged, "the sooner the better. that way you stop moping around like a sad, lost puppy."

lando jokingly rolled his eyes, pulling his phone from his pocket, "shut up."

his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of messaging you, opening instagram. but, just when he went to open his messages, your profile picture caught his eye at the top of the screen. he tapped onto the story you had posted not long ago, holding it down so it wouldn't disappear as he scanned over the picture.

you were still at the track, posting a picture from one of the offices. a video from your interviews today sitting on the screen, clear that you had stayed late to finish working on them. a caption written out on the photo.

'in desperate need of another cup of coffee'

he was up on his feet before he could even think through what he was about to do. shoving his phone in his pocket as oscar smiled at him softly.

"where're you heading?"

lando turned, walking backwards away from the lounge area, shouting over the bass of the club music playing loudly through the speakers, "'m feeling like having a cup of coffee! thanks for your help, osc!"

oscar raised his glass in a cheers motion to his teammate, watching him turn around and make a beeline for the exit. lily found her way to the lounge area, sitting next to her boyfriend and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, motioning towards his teammate.

"where's he heading?"

oscar smiled, swallowing the sip of his drink, "going to get his girl."

the night breeze in the monaco air felt nice on lando's skin, a contrast against the overly warm club he had been in. he pulled his phone out once again, searching for a coffee shop that would still be open at this hour. he found one that looked promising after a few minutes of searching, putting in the directions to it and taking off in the direction.

he ignored the hammering of his heart in his chest as he carefully placed the cup in the holders of his car. was it the best idea to show up unannounced with a coffee in hand, especially when he wasn't sure how you felt about him? probably not. but after the conversation with oscar, all he could think about was how he couldn't lose you again. how even after searching for someone to fill the ache in his heart that was put there by his own doing, no one could compare to you. they couldn't ever be you, even if they tried or if he tried to make it work. it wasn't the same.

he parked the car, heading towards the building he knew all the journalists worked in. some of them still hanging around, sending lando smiles but confusion clear in their eyes as his eyes scanned the room.

"do you know where y/n is?" he asked an older man, a guy he had recognized to be your camera man from earlier. the man nodded, pointing towards the room with glass walls. he could see you in the room, your back facing the door. headphones sitting on top of your head, clearly invested in your work. he swallowed nervously, thanking the man before heading towards the room.

you hadn't noticed he entered the room until a hand placing a coffee next to you caught your attention. you slipped the headphones off, placing them on the desk before turning to see who was standing behind you.

he met your eyes, which were also laced with confusion as you spun around in your chair. he sent you a small, nervous smile. the same smile you had given him in the media pen hours ago.

"lando? what're you doing here?" you asked, "and how did you.."

he smiled softly, "saw your story."

"what is it?" you asked, moving to grab the warm cup, "i mean, i like my coffee-"

"with light cream and two and a half sugars. the pink packets, though, not the white ones."

your heart squeezed in your chest, he remembered the way you liked your coffee.

you took a sip of the warm liquid, tasting exactly the way you liked it. you took in a deep breath, meeting his green eyes once again and you swore you were slowly falling in love with him again. it was like you were back at the beach house, back at the exact moment you had realized you were in love with him.

maybe the feelings you thought had gone away after the years weren't truly gone.

your lipstick left a pretty mark on the white lid and he scanned your facial features. in the dim lighting you were still as gorgeous as the day he met you, pretty colored eyes that complimented the color of the strands of your hair. a pair of glasses sitting comfortably on your face, remembering that you only wore them when your eyes were starting to get irritated after a long day.

your voice was soft, "lando, what're you doing here?" you asked again, still confused on why he had come, "i mean, other than dropping off a coffee, which thank you for, by the way, but shouldn't you be out with the rest of the drivers? y'know, celebrating..?"

"well, i was," lando breathed, ignoring how it came out a little shaky, “but, to be honest, i just.. really want to talk to you.”

everything he rehearsed in his head during the driver over here was going out the window with each passing second. the longer he looked in your eyes the more he wished he had never walked out of that house all those years ago. the more it was eating him up inside that he let the best thing he ever had go, that he never told you why.

you sighed, pointing over your shoulder to the screen behind you, “i really have to finish this,”

“it’ll be quick,” he was almost begging. about to get on his knees if he had to, “promise.”

you nodded, your brain yelling at you for agreeing but your heart almost leaping out of your chest at the fact that he was here. standing in front of you. right now. when he could’ve been at the club, wrapped around some other girl. but he wasn’t.

“okay, just, let me grab my things.”

he nodded, biting down on his lower lip nervously as you saved your work and exited out of the editing software. you packed up everything in your bag, pushing the chair in before grabbing your coffee from the desk.

he held out his hand, “here,”

you furrowed your eyebrows in response. he motioned to the bag and you smiled softly, “oh, thanks,”

he nodded, letting you lead him out of the office. you said goodnight to the crew that was left, not batting an eye at the looks they gave you for having the, arguably, most sought out driver on the grid tailing behind you.

once you were outside, he walked next to you. matching your pace as he looked over at you, “so, uhm, how’re they treating you at sky?”

you nodded, “good,” you smiled softly, “didn’t expect i’d work in the same sport as you, to be honest.”

“you’re telling me you didn’t follow me here to make me realize i’ve been missing out all this time?” he joked and you laughed, shoving his shoulder with yours.

“shut it,”

“sorry, too soon?”

you chuckled, “forever might be too soon.”

he chuckled with you, unlocking the doors to the mclaren. he opened the passenger side door, letting you sit down in the seat. you took your bag from him and smiled, a silent thank you, before he closed the door for you and rounded the front of the car to get in on his side. he started the car, looking back over at you, "hungry?"

you hummed, "starving."

"perfect," he said, putting in the directions for a place he knew you'd like. you rubbed your lips together nervously, watching the monaco lights pass by you. the breeze was nice, something you could get used to.

you cut through the silence that fell over the two of you, speaking over the soft music he had put on for the drive, "so, what did you want to talk about?"

he looked over at you, the red of the stoplight illuminating his face. he had grown into his features, but the boyish things about him was what you loved. the way his dimples deepened the wider his smile was, the moles and freckles that littered his skin like stars, and you had noticed the small scar on the bridge of his nose. one that wasn't there years prior, but you had grown to love. you silently hoped he'd tell you the story sometime. wanting to know every detail of his life the past few years, the years you spent watching from the sidelines.

"about what happened," he said, the light turning green and his attention fixing back to the road, continuing to drive, "i feel like i owe you a very long, detailed, explanation."

you nodded as he pulled into a parking lot, "okay, yeah," you breathed out softly, "sure."

he parked the car, turning the engine off before looking back at you. you turned to face him, giving him a soft smile as he looked at you, eyes dancing around your face before he took a deep breath.

"listen, i know it's been a while and i really wouldn't blame you if you hate my guts, but i just... can't. i can't pretend that i've lived in a world i'm completely satisfied with. and i can't bring myself to fall in love with someone else because no matter what, i find myself wishing i was with you, at that stupid beach house where i first felt what love truly felt like."

you sat in silence, taking in his rambling thoughts. this conversation definitely wasn't going as well as he had rehearsed it in his head, but it was too late to turn back now. he was sitting here, spewing every emotion he's felt over the past couple of years in front of you. it's how he truly felt. no filter, no hoops to jump through, just pure emotion and longing and hints of regret, and true apologies.

"you're the first thing i think of when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i go to bed, and hell, sometimes i even find you in my dreams because for a while that was the only place where you and i co-existed. and i'm so fucking sorry for how i left you, how i packed up and moved on with my life without even considering how you would feel. it makes me sick to my stomach to think about the fact that i've fucked up the part of my life that felt normal. that felt real, and all because i was too much of a coward to tell you what was going on. too scared to drag you into all of this,"

he was still rambling and you couldn't help the way your heart hammered against your chest. the moment you had wished for all these years finally unfolding in front of your eyes and you couldn't help the tears that were starting to prick your eyes.

"but now, you're here, and i'm here, and... holy fuck i'm still so in love with you."

his throat bobbed, swallowing down the nerves as you watched him. you were speechless, unsure how to respond to everything he had just spewed to you. your heart was caught in your throat, the tears closer to spilling over after his rambling. he had said everything he was feeling and little did he know it was the same way you had been feeling too.

after every wish and journal entry wishing he'd waltz back into your life, he finally was here. sitting across from you, and now you were speechless. unable to find the words to tell him you felt the same way.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled, looking away and straight ahead of him, almost as if he was embarrassed to spring all of that onto you, "that was a lot all at once, i'm sorry-"

you leaned over the center console, grabbing his face in your hands, turning him to face you and smashing your lips against his. the tears falling down now at the feeling of having him this close again. the familiar feeling of having his lips on yours again being enough to send them dripping down and onto your shirt.

he was quick to kiss you back, as soon as the initial shock wore off. his hand moving to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as you grabbed his shirt in your fist, not wanting to let go after he had been away from you all this time.

he pulled away when he needed to catch his breath, forehead resting against yours. you smiled softly, the two of you panting breathless and in love. he brought his thumb up to your cheek, wiping away the few stray tears that were still lingering. you leaned into his touch and he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"i love you," you breathed, nose bumping his, "so much. i never stopped, even after you left."

he smiled, his voice soft, "i'll spend a lifetime making it up to you."

you shook your head, "it doesn't matter. you're here now, that's all that matters."

"can i start with dinner?" he asked, smiling softly and brushing a piece of hair from your face. you hummed and nodded, pulling away from him as he got out of the car, jogging to open your door. you smiled and placed a quick kiss to his lips, joining your hands together. he walked with you into the restaurant, and as he opened the door for you all he could think about how he was the luckiest man on earth.

there was no way he was letting you again. you were incomparable. chemical.

[princesssmars]

thinking about princess reader and royal knight rhaenyra…

as the young princess of dorne, tourneys were nothing new to you. you’d never really cared for them, finding the blood and violence unnecessary and borderline barbaric. when you could you would beg your mother to come up with an excuse to your father to let you stay at the palace, citing sickness, weariness, anything.

but this time you had no choice. because as your family entered into the royal watching booth, politely greeting the members of your father court, your father stops before extending his hand to your guest - king viserys of westeros himself.

you’d heard many things about him, partially from overhearing your mothers gossip and from the workers talking a little too loudly when you’d sneak in the kitchens. you obviously knew he was a targaryen, his long silver gold hair and peculiar eyes telling anyone with a short distance of his heritage.

but more importantly you’d heard that he was a mostly kind and generous king, with a large portion of his people happy under his reign. there was no better option for your father to invite to his event.

you gracefully presented yourself to him, smiling when he kissed the back of your hand and gave you a polite compliment. he introduced his wife, the beautiful queen aemma, and his vibrant young son baelon who excitedly shook his hand at you and everyone else in the booth.

after the introductions everyone say down to let the people know the tourney could commence, cheers ringing as you settled into place in front of your father and next to rosalei, one of the fellow younger ladies in court who was your closest friend ever since she snuck some sugared treats to your room when the head cook had banned you from them for a week.

the even was like any other : knights got in their horses, they picked up giant sticks, then ran at each other on said horses with said sticks and tried to knock the other man down. yet again the event did nothing to entertain you, focusing on the small conversation you were keeping up with rosalei while paying attention to the ones around you. for now, your father and his guest had discovered their shared love for the histories and had veered to the animosity but occasional generosity between their people.

your father is close to getting on to the topic of a equally beneficial trade deal when whispers from the small folk take over the crowd, some standing up and pointing at a contender who had entered the fighting area. you bend over the edge of the booth to catch a look, ignoring your mother chastising your posture and manners.

it’s a knight everyone’s looking at, that’s true, but a knight unlike you’ve ever seen before. their armor is black and scarily imposing, a beautiful construction of steel with strong pleats and swoops. their horse is somehow darker than the armor, black as knight with a bright sun medallion around its neck. its only then you notice the flag in their hand, along with the dragon emblems on their armor.

"you have a competing knight, your grace?" you ask, turning your head around when you are only met with silence. the visiting kings face is red, smile so forced it looks like he’s going to quickly gain a cramp in his jaw. the queen is resting a hand on his shoulder, subtly trying to comfort him while they exchange hushed whispers.

“said…show strength…not what i meant-“

the queen tries to comfort him more before they look in your direction, along with every one else in your booth. your body goes rigid for a second before you realize they’re looking behind you, turning your body to see what was so intriguing.

the targaryen knight, poised right beneath the opening of the booth, helmeted head and joust sword tipped towards you. and even without being able to see their face you know their eyes are trained on you.

you can also tell that everyone is waiting for you to do something. so with all the farce you can muster you gently pick up your favor, raising it high enough for the people to see, and let it slide down onto the joust.

no further words are shared, the warrior staying in place for a few more seconds before goading their horse back into position. as you watch you plop back into your seat, breathing slightly stuttering at the encounter while your friend pokes and prods for an explanation for whatever that was.

even if you had the time you wouldn’t be able to say much, feeling like a warm thick jelly has suddenly made its home inside your throat. put of the corner of your you can see one of the kings guards looking at you, but before you can turn to look back at him the sudden roars of the crowd snap your attention to the game.

almost like a bolt of lighting does the warrior speed down the jousting lane, sword aimed steady at the burly man who had bested most of the other men in the contest. just when his sword is aimed inches away from the knight, then bend their body dangerously close to falling off of their horse before thrusting at just the right moment to knock the man down, the sound of galloping hooves and crunching metal all you can hear.

the cheers from the commoners is near deafening, but all you can focus on is the knight, who instead of basking in the success and praise is yet again looking in your direction. but looking back at the aghast king viserys, you can’t exactly tell who they are trying to impress.

after congratulating and thanking the people for coming and competing, and giving a personal thanks to the king for making his way down to your kingdom, your father dismisses everyone to enjoy the other tourney activities while the royal families go to prepare for later celebrations. after giving the royal family of westeros a quick goodbye, you grab rosealai’s hand and hurry out of the booth to grab a quick bite from one of the fair booths and to try to talk all you can about what just happened.

but right before you ca leave the booth you’re stopped in your tracks, no one other than the black knight standing in front of you. you blink up at them, waiting for them to speak before their hands raise to take off their helmet to reveal themselves . it’s almost in slow motion that you take in every part of their face - a soft angled jaw, pink lips, a broad nose, short silver hair -

“rhaenyra! finally, please show a bit of grace to our hosts and introduce yourself.” king viserys comes up beside you, gently scooting beside you to wrap an arm around the armored shoulders of the knight. “the last impression i’ll have my daughter making is that she’s yet another rude and british knight.”

neither of you move however, gazes locked and bodies still. only about a thousand thoughts are running through your head at the current moment.

the knight is a woman. the knight is an attractive woman. the knight is princess rhaenyra. princess rhaenyra who came up to your booth and quietly asked for your favor.

without a word spoken or breaking ye contact, the heavy hand of the princess grabs yours, physically strong but gently soft, bringing it up slowly before pressing a kiss to the back of your hand.

you’ve always been able to keep your composure in the face of extreme emotions, a necessary trait as a royal who had to make quick and harsh decisions. sadly that all seems to be going out the window as you feel your cheeks warm and your breathing get faster.

“it is an honor to meet you, princess. and even greater an honor to win a competition with your favor. i hope similar opportunities make themselves available in the future.”

her voice is melodic yet curt, no room for doubt or wrongful interpretation. you break her gaze to look down at her lips, looking back up to see her doing the same before a sly smile appears on her face.

clearly the moment goes on a little too long for comfort, the king further ushering his daughter to greet your father and mother after giving the two of you a worried look. when her body passes yours you can feel her hand discreetly brush against your side, shivering slightly at the cold of the steel even through the fabrics of your dress.

your father quickly motions for one of his guard to guide you back to the castle before turning to your guests with a welcoming but greedy smile. you can feel rosalei’s barey contained excitement as you rush out of the entryway, not before looking back one last time and seeing purple eyes already trained on your body.

maybe tourneys weren’t so boring after all.

can you tell i don’t really know shit about tourneys. sorry if some things are inaccurate i’m getting everything through hotd, asoiaf wiki, and tiktok’s 💔

[mediumgayitalian]

Nico really fucking hates capture the flag.

Well, not always. Last week was fun. Last week was the annual Everyone Against The Stolls (to atone for their crimes), and Nico got to chase Connor around at top speeds, cackling, committing his shrieking and begs for mercy to memory. That was nice. That almost made him forgive the fucker for digging a trench under Nico’s unwelcome mat for him to fall into at seven thirty in the godsdamn morning.

But tonight’s game is boring.

He’s been standing, alone, at the base of the flag for the past forty bajillion hours. He’d raised a few dozens skeletons to spar with at first, since animating them to fight himself isn’t technically against the rules, but that got dull fast. (It isn’t much fun sparring with a partner who doesn’t have a brain. He already has to do that enough with Percy when he comes to visit camp.) He’d climbed the various trees around the clearing, or at least he tried until he got reamed by the dryads for climbing on a manner that was too annoying (?), and tried his hands at a few summoning spells. Nothing held his interest long.

And now he’s just standing, doing nothing, and he’s not allowed to leave. He has to stay in this stupid spot on the off chance that someone comes stumbling over to fight him for the flag.

“You’re our best swordsman, she said,” he says mockingly, beaming the nastiest vibes he can manage in Piper’s vague direction. “We need you on our defensive line, she said. Nyeh nyeh nyeh.”

His checks his watch. He groans. He looks critically over the grass, looking for a softer patch, and when he locates it he throws himself dramatically upon it, groaning louder.

“This sucks!” he yells, to no one.

“Will you shut up!” shouts back the dryad he pissed off earlier. “For the love of photosynthesis! Fuck!”

He bites his tongue hard to hold back laughter. (If he can avoid getting his entire cabin overgrown with prickle bushes again, that’d be great.) “Sorry,” he calls, trying with everything he has to sound contrite. Convincing his father to fight the Titan War was easier, actually. Acting is not his calling.

“Hmph!”

At least listening to see if she’ll come out and yell at him again provides something to ease his boredom. Yes, he’s going to regret bothering her, but in his defense, solo guarding is cruel and unusual punishment. He’d rather sit by an outlet with a fork and see if he can poke and let go fast enough to avoid dying. That at least would be interesting.

A rustling of leaves recaptures his attention, and he pauses.

“Holly?”

When no one answers, which is odd because she’s taken every opportunity in the last hour to either insult him or pelt him with stones, he lifts his head.

“You’re not going to scare me, dude. I had my fear glands surgically removed to become a better soldier.”

Not true. Obviously. But a fun bonus of being the camp weirdo is that no one doubts anything he says. He’s working on convincing everyone younger than him that he needs weekly tributes of chocolate delivered to his door every Friday or the dead are going to take over the world. So far, it’s working.

“Look, Holly, I’m sorry about the zombie, okay, I promise it didn’t mean to sneeze part of its brain on you —”

The rustling sounds again, only this time Nico can see that it’s not Holly’s tree, and in fact she is nowhere to be found. Alarmed, he jumps to his feet, shifting so he’s balanced on the balls of his feet, poised to attack. Is Piper’s plan failing? Has someone actually managed to make it all the way over here without getting (gently, probably, although they lost the last game and Piper gets cranky without dessert) maimed?

The rustling sounds for a third time. This time, an armoured someone stumbles out of the underbrush, tripping over their own foot and nearly landing flat on their face.

Nico has his sword at their throat in a millisecond.

“Wo-oah, Morbius. That’s probably my least favourite sword you could stab in me.”

Nico goes bright red. “I have never wanted to stab you more than right this second.”

Will, chest plate skewed to the right, quiver completely empty, and black paint smeared under his eyes, snickers. He puts a finger on the tip of Nico’s sword and pushes it away from his neck.

“The opportunity was right there, babe. I couldn’t not.”

“You really, really could. In fact at all times, you should remember these words of wisdom: shut up.”

“…Damn. Inspiring.”

Nico rolls his eyes, but the effect is somewhat lessened by the smile on his face and the obvious pleasure in his expression. He’s even feeling merciful enough to accept Will’s kiss, although his sword keeps a good amount of distance between them. (Will’s on the blue team, after all. It would be unprofessional to be fraternizing with the enemy.

…Well, too much, anyway.)

“What’re you doing here? You’re supposed to be with the other archers, sitting in trees and causing havoc.”

Will shrugs, grinning lazily. “I quit. This game is senselessly violent and I’m Against It On Principle. I’m a pacifist, you know.”

“Uh huh.” Nico raises an eyebrow. “I assume this doesn’t count you choking Cecil out in a headlock, this morning.”

Will opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again.

“Cecil is my mortal enemy,” he grudges after a moment. “He doesn’t count.”

“‘Course not. Not like you cried for two hours when he went to visit his mom last weekend or anything.”

“Will you — stop saying I cried. I barely teared up, okay. Barely.”

Nico can’t quite force down the stupid grin that pulls across his face, matching Will’s, nor can he resist grabbing the leather straps of his boyfriend’s armour and hauling him close.

“You better not be here to distract me,” he mumbles, leaning close and pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the corner of his mouth. Will hums, settling his hands on Nico’s hips.

“Nope. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Drama queen.”

“Excuse — I am the least dramatic, I’ll have you know. I’m a pinnacle of solemnity. I am a shining beacon of stoicism. I am — mmfh,” He trails off. “Okay, doing this now, mhm.”

Nico smiles triumphantly into the kiss. Will, he has found, is very easy to shut up, despite his long-running nickname of Motormouth. It’s almost like he has an off button that can be accessed only by Nico sticking his tongue in his mouth. Nico is doing his civic duty, honestly. He should be compensated for his service.

(‘Course, doesn’t hurt that Will smells, like, really good, all the time, and his lips are soft as hell and he is actually quite the kisser, in fact. That is definitely a fun bonus.)

He smooths his hands over Will’s shoulders, travelling up the sides of his neck and settling in his hair. Will keens, slightly, when he wraps a finger around a frizzy golden curl and tugs, slightly, when he scratches his nails along his scalp. The rush of power at the feeling makes Nico dizzy, and his sword clatters to the ground as he busies himself with more interesting — and important — things.

Like pulling more of those sounds from his boyfriend’s throat. Or making his knees buckle, again, like he did the other night — gods, that was good, it made Will flush scarlet and Nico feel like he was fuckin’ floating, to have Will so needy and touchy and totally at his mercy —

“Free line to the flag! Go go go go!”

Nico startles, whirling towards the sudden cacophony of noises. To his horror, what looks like half the camp, helmets shining with plumes of blue, comes pouring into the clearing, weapons raised, voices mixing in one long, victorious shout. He lunges for his sword, but before he can grab it, two strong arms tighten around his torso, pinning his hands to his side.

Immediately, he knows he’s been set up.

“Oh, you — fucker!”

He feels the curve of Will’s grin against his neck. “First shower privileges for a whole month, baby.” He noses along his jaw, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek. “Couldn’t resist.”

Nico struggles, aghast, watching the once-red flag shimmer in Lou Ellen's hold to a bright, shining blue. “I am breaking up with you, you traitor, you Iago, you vixen — ”

Will snorts. He ducks down and pecks Nico on the lips, again, and again, and then shifts to his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, his temples, his forehead, and all over his face, making louder and louder mwah sounds until Nico is laughing, punching his shoulder and shoving him away.

“Okay! Okay. Let me go, you villainous toad. We will discuss how much you’ll have to grovel for my forgiveness after Piper finishes yelling at me for getting distracted.”

Will presses one last kiss to his nose, smiling cheekily before stepping away, heading towards his boasting team. “Enjoy that lecture! Love you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Nico rolls his eyes, resting his aching cheek in his hand. “Love you too, asshole.”

[jarofstyles]

Let It Burn

Hey….. now this is unhinged and dark but I figured why not give you a bit of crazy H AND Crazy Y/N 🤭

Check out our Patreon for early access and 180+ exclusive writings

WC- 2.5k

Warnings: whew… dark Harry and dark y/n, toxic relationship and other elements, mention of murder, blood, mention of an abuser (not h), theft, they are not stable lol, breeding kink, rougher sex, tattoos, a hint of anal… it’s a ride :-)

Obviously this does not depict any real people or events!

Artwork is not mine, credit to owner

———

“Did you find him?” Fingers slid over the back of his wrist, alerting him to the woman’s presence behind him. “Look surprised to see me.”

Following instruction, he put on a believable show of raising his eyebrows, letting the smile take over his face before he brought her in for a hug. Playing a role was something the both of them felt increasingly comfortable in each and every time they did it. It should be habit by now, 3 years into it.

“I did. He’s down here, red tie in the second booth to the right.” A stealthy swipe of the button of her purse, he slipped the key inside of her bag. “It should be clear when you go up there. The combination for the safe is in your notes app.” Returning to full height, he leaned his hip against the bar. His voice spoke clearly now, letting the bartender overhear his words.

“It’s been so long since we caught up, hasn’t it? How have you been?” He flagged the man down, giving a charming smile. “Can we get the lady a vodka sprite, please? Thank you.”

“It’s been ages, hasn’t it?” She giggled, playfully swatting his chest. Like they hadn’t seen each other naked in the rumpled sheets of the bed just this morning before splitting up in order to achieve the goal they’d been working towards. “I’m so glad you reached out. I didn’t know you’d be in town.”

Creating an alibi wasn’t really difficult, all things considered.

In all fairness, so was this life of crime. The natural skills they possessed had led them to this moment, led them to one another and bonded them at the seams. A couple infamous and yet unknown, their stories told all around. The wealthy clutched their pearls at their names while sitting at the same tables as them, sharing appetizers. It gave them a sick sense of satisfaction each and every time.

“It was a bit of a surprise. I had hoped you’d still be here.” He moved a bit closer, letting the heat sizzle between the both of them. It was always like this before they completed their goal. ¾ths of the way there, their finish line was so close they could almost taste it. “We do have some history, hm?” Biting his lip, he stroked over her hip. It was always difficult for him to keep his hands off of her- his one true weakness.

“Oh, stop.” She let out another fake giggle and pushed his chest. It took everything in him not to laugh too, considering she was definitely milking it now. Realistically no one was probably listening in to their conversation, but if they were? They didn’t want to leave any room for questioning. “We do. And you know… it’s been a long time considering I’ve been divorced.”

“Oh?” A roleplay of sorts. Harry always leaned into these, smirking down at her. The sparkly eyeshadow glimmered in the low light of the bar, mascara coating her lashes with a slight smudge on her lowe lashline- giving him a glimpse of his future. He loved when she got all dressed up just for him to ruin her. Make a whole different idea of art on her face. “Well, I did hear that through the grapevine. I was hoping you’d be single again.”

Y/N shivered at his gaze. Just one look and he could eat her alive, they both knew it. They were each other's world. Their only weaknesses. A package deal since the day they’d met, there had never been a connection quite as strong as theirs and they both knew not to take it for granted.

In reality, if Y/N wasn’t single it wouldn’t matter to Harry. He’d claim her anyway. Take her again and again in the same bed her husband slept in if need be, because there was no universe that they wanted to exist in that they didn’t belong to one another. It was something a psychologist would probably deem unhealthy, but considering their professions and personalities, they didn’t plan on seeing any of them anytime soon.

“Well I am.” Running a manicured finger down his chest, she stepped into his space. Not uncommon for bar spaces, people getting closer and alluding to what would happen once they reached privacy. “Are you interested?” The coy look through her lashes went straight to his cock, a reminder of the night they’d met. It had been instantaneous, like a moth to a flame. No one else existed in the room once they’d caught eyes for each other, but they played cat and mouse in their banter. It had ended in her coming to Harry’s place and never leaving his side.

His playboy days ended the day they met. No other cunt would feel as good as hers, no one would moan as pretty, and certainly no one would be as filthy as she was. Letting the passion overrun them, letting her nails dig into his back and opening her mouth for his spit, he had met his match in the back of his car where round one of four that night had happened. Meeting each other, kissing, fucking, being partners in crime? It just made sense.

“More than.” The energy crackled between them, igniting his stomach as she brought the little red straw between her lips and sipped on the drink. “I’ve got a room, if you want to go talk up there. It would be a bit more….’comfortable.” And he did have a room-

One booked under a fake name, under a fake identity that wouldn’t be traced back to them. But they both knew Y/N wasn’t going to go straight to his room.

“I think I’d enjoy that. Will you pay the bill so we can go?” Dragging her French tipped claws down his pale skin and tiny thatch of chest hair, she sent the saucy smile up at him before letting her eyes fall down to his lips. “It’s a bit too cold down here for me. I think I’m going to warm up.”

“Go ahead, Angel.” He nodded. “Room 308, when you’re done.”

——

“You are so fucking sexy.” Harry panted, the bag of jewels and cash off to the side. His hands were too busy running over the arch of her back as she ground herself over his lap, fingers tugging his belt off.

“Yeah? How sexy am I?” She purred, head falling back as his lips ran over her sensitive throat. Teeth grazed it, making her inhale sharply before working harder to get him out of his damn trousers.

“The most beautiful… alluring… sexy…. Sensual… evil woman I’ve ever come across.” His words were kissed into the skin, both palms finding her ass and dragging her dress up to bunch over her waist. “And I own you. You belong t’me. You’re never getting away from me.”

The promise would probably turn most people off, make them scramble off his lap and ask what he meant- but for Y/N, it only made her more aroused. Being reminded that there was nothing and no one that would come between the both of them was reassuring, a welcome sensation as she managed to fish him out of his pants. “Fuck me then. Prove it.” Her taunts always worked. Y/N knew how to push his buttons, as he did hers, no surprise in when he flipped them over and pinned her down, giving little time to prepare before lining himself up with her cunt and pushing in.

The groan between the both of them was loud, but their frantic need was overcoming the need to be quiet. “Fuck you?” He cooed. “Every time I’m inside of you… I-own-you.” The last sentiment was emphasized by thrusts that jostled her body. Her toes curled as her legs fastened against his lips, the feral smile on her face growing as the hand not holding her wrists together ripped the top of her dress down to expose her tits.

“Yes, you do.” She hiccuped. “And I own you. You’re mine, and you’re so….” Her words stuttered as each deep thrust got into her stomach. “You’re so obsessed with me. You’ll never let me g-go.” Her last sentence was hissed out. “I won’t let you.”

“Never.” He snarled, rutting into her poor cunt like he was crazed. He sort of was, to be honest. Every time they did another little mission, he got increasingly turned on afterwards. Knowing they pulled it off, they they were richer, that unstoppable feeling only made his cock harder and his need more desperate each and every time. “Never going to let you go. I’d kill someone before letting you go…” he let out a crazed laugh, connecting their mouths for another kiss. “I have, haven’t I? Fucked you with their blood on my hands and you fucking loved it, you crazy bitch.” The word wasn’t an insult, but the highest praise.

Y/N moaned, nodding at the accusation. There was no way either of them were sane, not in the slightest, but they were smart. They were practiced and cunning and no one had a clue who they were. Equal obsession with one another had only resulted in a secret empire of wealth and blood that they would be craving forever.

“I did. I love when you’re mean.” Her cunt was slick and hot, clenching around him as he thrust into her with a fervor that was only matched after their missions. “I love when you hurt people for me, Sir. I love when you fuck me in their blood, I love when you-“ her neck fell back and she arched her body as he shifted and hit the spot she had been waiting for. “Oh- fuck. I love you.”

“Yeah, you do. You love me so much, don't you? Think it even compares to how much I love you…” the man panted. “Got your name tattooed right above my cock so you can see that you own it. Get it wet with your cream every fucking time….” He wrapped his fingers around her waist, pulling out momentarily to flip her over. “Let me see it- let me fucking see it.”

Y/N’s face buried in the mattress, she shakily put her hand back to ride up the dress and show the stamp above her ass marking his name. “That, Sir?” She cooed, knowing it was exactly what he wanted to see. The script that marked her ass as his as he fucked into her weeping hole, his intensity moving up as she felt his thumb trace the outline of it.

“Yeah- that’s what I want. Never going to forget who you belong to, hm? Who owns your heart, your body, your soul. M’nothing without you.” His tone darkened, spreading her ass open and spitting over her hole and pressing his thumb inside. “You’re never allowed t’leave me. I’ll follow you anywhere, I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you. There’s nothing I want without you.”

As toxic as the words were, it sent her over the edge. Hand slamming against the duvet, curling her fingers into it as she sobbed out his name, the white hot pleasure rushed over her body and shook her core. Slick dripping from her cunt and both holes clenching around the intrusions, she felt her eyes roll back as the bullying of her pussy continue.

“That’s my girl. Cum around my cock again.” He commanded. “Can’t fuckin’ wait until I can knock you up. Want you full of my babies, all the fuckin’ time.” Considering their lifestyle the babies had to be put on pause until they amassed enough wealth to feel comfortable stopping full time, but Harry had been dreaming about getting her connected to him in that way for ages. “Full of me. My cum is good, but it isn’t enough. Need to own you that way.” He was crazy, yes, but he loved her.

“Soon.” She gasped, feeling as his thrusts got harder. That talk always made him more aroused, and based off of the pulsing she felt inside of her it wouldn’t be long. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me. Gonna be the b-best. You’ll take care of us, won’t you?” She panted into the air, face turned to the side as he added another finger into her ass. Her eyes flashed with colors as he pounded into her, surely making her sore for tomorrow but neither of them cared.

“I’ll burn down the world for you.” He promised through his grunts. “For you and our little family. Watch the entire thing go down in flames like that one time…” the first time they’d realized they were as crazy as one another. When he had set the car on fire with her abuser inside of it, and she had kissed him for it. “I’ll do it again, and again, and again… fuck, I love you.” Harry’s voice strained as he felt her clench up around him. “Give it to me, baby. Give me your pleasure. I’m so fucking close.”

They needed to get the fuck out of there before their signal blockers ended and the security team caught on to the looping footage. Before the bastard they’d stolen from realized the riches he had brought with him were gone. But neither of them could stop themselves from making their own fucked up version of love before they finished and got into their getaway car.

Y/N could feel how wet she had gotten him, feel the knot in her belly expand as he bullied that one spot in her channel over and over again, each pound making her get closer and closer to the edge. “H-Harry…” she plead for him, putting a hand back for him to hold. Immediately he took it, squeezing her hand in his own.

“I know, baby. I know, you’re creaming all fucking over me. Let it go. Let me fill you up the way you deserve.” He pleaded, fucking his fingers into her as his cock followed the rhythm. “Give it to me, my perfect girl. My pretty little wife, cum on my cock.” The coaxing was low, the headboard smacking against the wall and the sound of their sex obnoxiously loud as she came.

“Oh- fuck!” The man growled as he felt the splash of her cumming on him- squirting on his cock as he fucked into her, his thrusts getting sloppy. “That’s what I wanted, you dirty slut. I am so in love with you and this perfect pussy… fuck me.” He wheezed, feeling the crest of his orgasm wash over him. “Take it, take it all.” The sloppy thrusts turned into short, rough ones. Fucking his load into her, little grunts leaving his chest as he pretended it could catch.

One day it would, and that would be the day their dangerous fun on the road would be over, and they’d begin their lives all over again.

[beiasluv]

forbidden fruit pt.2 | charles leclerc

part 1

a/n: i wrote last part at like midnight, apologies for any typos 💀 enjoyy 🤍

‘y/n l/n and charles leclerc. forbidden love, rival or lovers?’

front line mercedes driver, l/n, and the ferrari driver, leclerc, had been seen having a conversation together before the grand prix in italy…

“y/n, question for you please.”

the conference room. same old same old. lewis, you, and george were seated together in front of thousands of lenses, ready to pick each and every length of your skin just to get a piece of information they could sell to the media.

it was the day before the big race in italy, the media was catching their eyes closely at all the drivers - especially you know which two.

“..yes?”

“about the incident after the qualifying round, what had happened with charles?”

the clicking of the pens and the scratching of the notebooks were starting to get you any minute. clearing your throat you grabbed the mic closer to your mouth,

“i’m sure charles meant no harm..we’re racers..erm…rivalry isn’t the furthest thing from us.”

“are you dating charles, y/n?”

alarms were set off in your mind. it would be a crime if george and lewis couldn’t hear them. you were nothing with charles leclerc. he’s the reddest flag of all. really. you were nothing.

"we," clearing your throat and grabbing your mic closer to your dry lips. "we're not talking on any terms."

smile, y/n. smile for the cameras.

"what are your thoughts on the ferrari team this season? any comments?"

the journalist raised his hands through the crowd, his pen almost fell off his lap from the enthusiasm.

"it was always a challenge to race with any team on the track, ferrari included," you nodded. "the ferrari has a strong car, they are one of the many tough contenders. obviously, every team wishes to win...and so does mercedes," glancing a tight smile at the interviewer who took the answer down the notebook. perhaps a little bit too messy for your driver's head to decipher.

"how about when leclerc saved you? any additional comment?"

"i.."

you caught lewis shifting in his seat; his hands started to calm up together in front of the mic, seated between the three drivers and the whole internet. you could only pray your zoning out was missed by the media and you know who.

if only you could express your infinite pain of being the only female in the male-dominant sport, no paper could ever hold just a nick of the feminine rage pregnant inside you.

how come the only question you got asked was about 'charles,' 'men,' 'dating' and never the sophisticated 'performance car racing' or the ones filled with personalities?

george russell, for the record, your biggest shipper, even chipped in. he pushed the mic closer to his face and looked dead into the camera - if looks could kill - "please, this is a mercedes drivers' briefing."

the tension is sky-high, or you could say: rocket-sky-high. george settled back in his seat as you threw him a quick thankful smile. only god knows what the media is going to make up this time.

'george to the rescue'? bullshit.

"lewis, over here please."

--

"y/n, leclerc's getting aggressive. be careful for an overtake-"

"copy-"

the adrenaline is rushing, flowing, and doing whatever the heck it can in your bloodstream. pushing the pedal as hard as your baby could possibly could, the wind rushed against your face. if it wasn't for the helmet you had on, your face would've been cut like it were a thousand knives thrown at you.

looking to your right you see the infamous red ferrari again, surging with the wind and springing out against the green grass beside the track.

"leave space! you fucking-" you muttered as your fingers tick all the necessary buttons of the formula 1 car in order to keep your position above the ferrari. "what the fuck is he doing!"

praying the car tires could take a bit more, you applied as much pressure you felt comfortable on your baby for the first place behind the checkered end line. you glanced at the body behind the mask of the helmet as you continued to push and pray, push and pray.

if only you knew the ferrari was reciprocating the act.

what was important was you finishing above leclerc - mercedes finishing above ferrari, of course.

"leclerc! y/n! leclerc! who's going to win?! would he complete the overtake?!"

holding on to your steering wheel for your dear life, you saw something of a maroon color rushing to your side. perhaps it was the speed of the car that distorted your vision or was it something in your cheeks?

shut up-

"leclerc! leclerc! leclerc! ferrari have gained another victory home! ladies and gentlemen, charles leclerc!"

"fuck!"

the cracking sound from your radio chimed in your ears - at the worst time possible - "y/n! 0.02 second behind leclerc! P2!"

yeah, thanks. thanks for rubbing it in your face that leclerc had beaten you once again.

"..thanks," slowing your car down against the wind, you came to a halt after the race line; obviously at a considerable distance behind the red ferrari. climbing out and plastering on a fake smile for the media and your beloved fans.

--

the monégasques national anthem was blasted through the speaker throughout the whole podium. any fan knew this song belonged to any of the leclerc and ferrari, for now.

holding your hands in the comfort of in front of you, you tried to remain calm throughout the whole song. nevertheless, your heartbeat was beating fast for the obvious reason after the race.

the shit-eating grin was plastered on the driver standing on P1. can you even blame him? congratulations, you had beaten your rival for the longest time and were placed on P1 while wearing your infamous red suit.

while you were wearing your notorious mercedes's fire suit on your waist, just like all the drivers on the grid (and charles), you grabbed the champagne bottle as the others did so.

"good one, leclerc.”

you sprayed the champagne straight onto the monégasques’s back, maybe it was a little intentional that you shook the bottle a little harder for more pressure of the liquor.

no hard feelings, of course. you only knew his hair was soaked under the cap on his head and the tingling of the bubbles down his neck.

how unfortunate.

charles smirked back as he aimed his half-empty champagne bottle at you, "it's still not a date."

what.?

seeing you in your stunned state, he lowered the bottle to an acceptable level. leclerc cleared his throat and wiped the foam of champagne off his upper lips and chin; looking back with the biggest annoying grin on his face, "congrats on the podium. next race?"

oh, how you wish you could smack his grin off his mother fucking face again. rubbing it into your face.

the media..the media. breathe in, breathe out.

"will do, 16."

--

"congratulations on P2,"

toto patted your back as he entered the mercedes's headquarters. how lovely it is to see his drivers bundled up in his room, once again, after a race 'gone wrong.'

"what is it this time," he sighed as he lowered himself to his chair, not ready to be resigning the team principal position for a therapist for his driver.

the room was your comfort zone, safe to say. the picture of toto's kid, susie, and all of his essentials to complete the job for a team principal. crashing into his room with george wasn't an abnormal thing in your team, nor was it the first time of your career with him.

"they kept asking if you're dating charles, huh?" toto grinned as he faked wipe his mouth for the dramatic effect.

"i'm sick of it-"

the environment of the room shifted - for the better, surprisingly. also. did you mention the fact that this room felt more like a therapy session than a team principal's room?

and. wikipedia got it wrong, it was: toto wolff, team principal and CEO of mercedes, and a part-time therapist.

perfect.

"i'm sure we've put on a great fight," toto nodded towards you, the unspoken tension of the media was killing you inside out.

"i'm sick of the media, toto-"

george shifted next to you on the black sofa, "who knows, they're just trying to write a story out of nothing."

"it'll be the death of me if I have to continuously declare my love life on the internet," resting your head back on the back of the couch you did.

the coldness in the room was cleared by a bit as george snaked his arm around the back of the couch, he whispered into your ear, "you don't have a thing for charles..do you?"

"i hate you."

--

"night, toto. night, george."

bidding toto and george goodbyes, you grabbed your bag from the floor and beeline for the exit door.

the hotel bed is calling your name like a mantra at this point. the race was mentally and physically exhausting, what could be better than a nice, warm bath and a soft bed waiting for you?

the sky was pitch black, darker than your deepest thoughts in solitary, but the pitch was never dark. thanks to the eyes-scorching light to illuminate the track during the night races.

“sup lando..sup daniel”

“good race, l/n.”

walking past a couple of drivers, quick and friendly nods were exchanged as you head for the garage for your beloved mercedes.

and for the love of god, the eyes of the ferrari next to your mercedes were ignited.

how could this get even better?

making your way into the garage, you tried to be as quiet as you possibly could. digging in your purse for the key was a painful ride to ride.

'ah, found it.'

your fingertip dug into the muscle memory as you press the button you hoped was coded with 'unlock.'

fuck.

how gracious of mercedes to make the unlocking sound so loud. so loud that it caught the attention of the ferrari driver. so loud that leclerc's neck flicked towards the sound of your car and you swore you could feel his grin growing.

the second slowed down by a quarter as you seized the handle for the door and swung your bag and body inside the car. perhaps it was not fast enough for the P1 winner today as he made his way next to your car before you could even shut the door. ignoring his steps as he teasingly walked over to his ferrari and played with the key in his hand.

"you put up a great fight for the first place," he grinned. "next time.." he opened his ferrari,

“eyes on the track, l/n.”

"how-...don't you worry about it, leclerc," you scoffed, hiding the beating of your heart. fucking hell- stop beating so fast-

raising his eyebrows in one quick, swift motion, he entered his ferrari, "of course." the driver was fully engulfed by the shadows of the vertical door, but his eyes were still looking into yours, "nice drive today."

"you too."

--

your phone screen screamed it was 2 in the morning, but who cares? the tiktok on your phone was a little more entertaining than seeing charles off the track - okay, maybe a lot less - but the thing so addicting about tiktok was a life mystery for you.

curling up to your side, your phone was plugged into the wall next to your bed, your hand starting to get numb from holding your phone for too long.

asmr. f1 edit. asmr. f1 edit. asmr. f1 edit. you were going to go mad. for the love of anyone, if you see one more edit of charles leclerc on your fyp, you are going to throw your phone out-

honestly, you wouldn't lie that you enjoy an edit of yours once in a while, but hell, charles leclerc..fucking leclerc...who told him that he can look so fucking fine after a horrible race from the ferrari?

you were almost tempted to slam your phone on the nightstand and get some sleep for the night. also. who cares if you wake up late tomorrow?

knock..knock

"oh, come on," you cursed. the audacity to knock at 2 in the morning?

you swung yourself off the comfort of your hotel bed and tiptoed towards the door of your room. your pajama short and oversized t did not help with providing the necessary warmth.

peaking through the cat-eye, you saw the last thing you were expecting.

charles leclerc, in the flesh. he was leaning one of his arms on your door as he was about to raise his hand for another knock.

"gasly! open the door-"

"have a problem, leclerc?"

gosh, you wished you could take a pic of how terrified he looked. shit. was he looking at the unbearable state of yours, or what? short shorts, oversized t, and your hair-

"y/n- i'm-"

squinting your eyes, you adjusted to the light of the hallway, "gasly's not here."

silence engulfed the air between you like a buffet. he continued to stare blankly at you. gosh- could he stop with his dark, green, eyes- fuck. "…leclerc?"

was it the tension or your ears going deaf - you weren't sure - that made you couldn't even hear his - probably lame - excuse of why he knocked at your door at 2 in the fucking morning.

what did matter was the blabbering of his mouth traveled through one ear and straight to the other, just like an f1 car, speeding on any straight path-

"-i think i'm fucking in love with you"

"charles...don't."

charles stopped - his breathing, his steps, his brain, and whatever he could be conscious of. you started - started leaning onto the door, started clutching the other hand to the door blocking the other half of your heart from his.

"what d'you mean 'don't'?" leclerc's mouth was gaped, letting the least amount of air in to keep his heart beating - for you.

retracting your hand, and the door, away from him; you still found his hand in the comfort of over yours, the one that you held onto the door to not fall onto the wooden floor of your hotel room.

every breath you took was a sharp nick on your lungs, but you've managed to heaped out, "i'm sorry, charles-" just in time before your lungs would betray you.

"why?...why?...please-"

"why? -really? why?"

finally regaining the willpower to look back at him, and not cry, you were greeted with his reddened eyes, "what the fuck do you want with me-?"

"you- you could go around and tell me all these nice things in front of my face and- and god knows what you've been calling me behind my back-"

his grip on your hands tightened as he opened his mouth again, but you cut him short- "it drives me crazy- fucking crazy that you act all so nice to me when we've fought our whole lives against each other."

"...what ever happened to all of your loathing glares when i'm on the podium?"

who cares what the sleeping people, ghosts, or whoever the fuck on this floor hears. you were done with cradling your heart as far away as you could from the pitch. it was stupid. fucking humiliating, at least, that you've found yourself back - back at the start.

all the effort to fight for your place on the grid as the only female driver and all of your effort to carry your dignity above all the scandals came crashing down just for a second of your selfish desires. was it so bad to want love from someone who really cares for you all your life?

dancing, kissing, crying, loving. was it so hard to deny when it is literally in front of your fucking face? under the reddest flag of all.

you wished and prayed every day that the races would be over soon so you could stop seeing his shit-eating grin, his eyes, his remarks, his cologne filling the air whenever he walked past.

charles stood in silence, unmoving, as if the time had stopped. if only you knew he was trying- trying to find the right word to express this weird sensation in his brain, his chest, his fucking heart. they all just ended up tangled in italian, frech, and english. mon amour. my life-

"..is that how you really think of me-" he felt slightly betrayed by his wrong tone, but even more by your thoughts.

"you think- y/n- you think i'm just trying to tick you off the podium?"

"..are you?" wiping the tears that betrayed you and escaped from the comfort of your eyes. "look- look at all the headlines- 'mercedes and ferrari.' is this really the- the condition you want to love under?"

"i'll love you under any condition i want," he breathed shakily as he continued to hold the door of your room open. who cares about the ruffled sheet you left or your phone uncharged by the bed?

"there's nothing between us-"

"you have a girlfriend for fuck's sake!"

"it's a PR relationship! and who cares what the media thinks? i'm not doing ferrari any good by confessing my heart raw to you-"

"you think mercedes is getting anything out of this but rumors? i've fought the press for all my fucking life from the scandals inside the pit-"

"this isn't about mercedes, and this isn't about the goddamn media-”

charles ran his hand through his messed up hair, "and I would have thought you knew that..."

"maybe- maybe i don't. maybe i'm too scared to love again. maybe i'm too scared of what would happen if we ended on a bad note. maybe i'm a coward for not wanting to open my heart for you.

-maybe i'm stupid...for you"

"you're not stupid," he said- decreasing the gap between you two, trying his hardest not to reach to wipe your tears.

"we won't work out," you sighed. "we'll focus on our drives, we'll fight, you'll leave."

"please," charles grabbed your waist and pulled you in, once again - you gave in. "i'll make it work."

all your walls came crumbling down as you broke down like a dam on his shoulder. you buried your face onto his chest and gripped his shirt until you didn't care it would crease. a mantra of apologies came out of charles's mouth that you wouldn't even waste an energy to decipher.

his hands found their natural comfort in your lower back, rubbing in lines of traces and tracks you'd spend the rest of your life trying to decipher.

tucking a piece of your hair behind, he kissed all of your tears away. his mustache which had grown since the karting days grazed your skin like they were made for each other. his cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling too much like an idiot in front of your hotel room..106.

you were still gripping his shirt hard, as he closed the space between your lips and his. it seemed like all of your walls were crushed to the point of no returning; towering over you, he pressed his body against yours like there was no more- like the last lap of the race.

the level of oxygen in your lungs was starting to set off an alarm in your head, but you didn't care. you were kissing the reddest flag of all in the grid and you were not regretting anything.

pulling away for air, he smiled against your lips; sending a wave of breath onto your chin.

"you have a lot to explain to toto."

"i'll have my ways..."

oh my goodnesss. if you like it, please do whatever you want to, I’ll appreciate it 🫶🏻

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, luvv 🤍

tag: @leclerclvr @buendiabebeta @be-your-coffee-pot @al-luvx

[coryosmin]

Personal Secretary -

Young President Snow x Secretary Reader

About: President Snow is someone that prides himself on being a loyal husband and amazing President to the country of Panem. However, he does have quite the sweet spot for his secretary.

word count: 2,300

Warnings: NSFW Content, MDNI, cheating (not on you), unprotected sex, p in v sex, praise, quickie, etc.

“Gem of Panem,

Mighty City,

Through the ages you shine anew.”

You stood at your desk with a hand on your heart as the sound of the Capitol’s anthem played over the speakers. It was eight o’clock in the morning, the time the President had arrived at his office. This was a routine that happened each and every morning, to show one’s respect for their country and the mighty city of the Capitol.

“We humbly kneel,

To your ideal,

And pledge our love to you!”

Everyone was facing the flag of Panem, speaking the words to the anthem in unison as it played across the building. A few years back, barely anyone knew the anthem. It was a song made during the dark ages and only recently had it been brought back when Coriolanus Snow came into power. Something about showing pride for one’s home.

“Gem of Panem,

Heart of Justice,

Wisdom Crowns your marble brow.

You give us light,

You reunite,

To you we make our vow.”

You had always felt prideful for your city. Having been born and raised in the Capitol, gone to the Academy, gone to the University, you had been a star pupil in the eyes of your educators. Your family had been quite prominent but it was your skill set that really made you become the right hand woman to the President of the whole nation of Panem.

“Gem of Panem,

Seat of power,

Strength in Peacetime, shield in strife,”

You had gone to school with Coriolanus Snow, though you were a year behind him. You worked hard to make something of yourself outside of your family’s affiliations. Your family was known for investing in high fashion items, owning many of the high end fashion stores in the Capitol itself. And while your father had wanted that life for you as well, you wanted to become something else. And you did.

“Protect our land,

With armored hand,

Our Capitol,

Our life.”

When the anthem ended, you all went back to your work. It wasn’t easy being the secretary of the President. His schedule was quite tiresome most days. And today most certainly was one of those days. You focused on the papers set in front of you, sorting through them and seeing which ones were important enough for President Snow to take a look at. By ten in the morning, you knocked on his office door to give him his schedule.

“Come in,” came the authoritative voice that was Coriolanus Snow. The President of Panem had been elected about a year ago when he was just twenty-four years old and recently married to Livia Cardew, a woman he simply married for convenience and nothing more. In fact, he hated Livia Cardew quite a bit. Though she doesn’t know that and the nation doesn’t need to know that. And now, here he was, twenty-five years old and working hard to ensure that the country is running smoothly. And you? You were very patriotic towards your President.

“I have your schedule for the rest of the day, sir,” You said as you walked into the office, closing the door gently behind you and walking over to his desk. President Snow was sat at his desk, dressed in a navy blue suit with a red rose in the pocket. His hair was slicked back, making him look even more handsome than usual. Your heels clicked with each step you took and Coriolanus was very obviously staring you up and down. “And a list of messages to give you,” You added.

Coriolanus licked his lips before looking at your face. “Go on,” he said, using a hand to signal you to speak.

“You have lunch today with the new Head Gamemaster to discuss ideas for eighteenth annual Hunger Games at twelve p.m, a meeting with the mayor of District One at one p.m, a phone call with the Head General at two p.m, and an address to the nation at three p.m about the sewage system,” You explained, looking down at your notes before looking back up at Coriolanus. “After that, you have a Gala to attend tonight at eight o’clock with your wife who is wondering if you will be coming home for dinner.”

Coriolanus sighed, running a hand over his face as he thought over everything. “That’s quite a lot for today,” He exclaimed. “Tell Livia I will not be having dinner with her tonight.”

You nodded your head. “Right away, sir,” you said, giving him a polite smile.

“You’ll be attending the Gala as well, correct?” Coriolanus asked.

You nodded your head in confirmation. “That’s correct, sir,” You replied. “My whole family will be attending.”

“Good,” Coriolanus smirked at you. “I’ll see you later then, Miss L/N.”

“I’ll see you later, President Snow,” And with that, you left his office to get back to work.

When you arrived at the Gala dressed in a ravishing black dress that accentuates your curves, you knew that you were officially the best dressed at the event. Your hair was down and styled to perfection. Your makeup was done elegantly with a red lip. You walked into the event, immediately greeted by other prominent families within the Capitol. You greeted each and every one of them with a smile and a kind greeting. Only the best from a high member of society.

You looked around the room, noticing President Snow across the room with his wife standing next to him. His eyes were immediately on you. You gave him a smirk as he did a slight tilt of his head, signaling to follow him. He excused himself from Livia before walking towards the bathrooms. After a moment, you followed.

Your relationship with Coriolanus Snow is a bit of a complicated one that had begun when he was voted in as President. Being a year below him during school, the two of you interacted only briefly. But he hired you based on your family’s name and your high grades from the University. After your hiring, it was safe to assume that there was more to it. He would always look you up and down, taking in your beautiful form. And you didn’t hate it one bit. Coriolanus was an attractive man. And you were very patriotic.

About two months into his presidency, the two of you stayed late to work on an address that was going to be given the next day. A late night with your boss with dinner had led to the two of you talking about anything and everything unrelated to work. And that night, he fucked you on his desk without any regrets. That was the start of an affair that neither of you wanted to end.

You made your way to the bathroom, knocking on the door. You heard the faint “come in” of Coriolanus’s voice. Before walking in, you looked around to ensure no one else was looking. You opened the door, walking into the room before quickly closing it behind you and locking the door. As soon as you did so, Coriolanus was pinning you to the wall, his lips immediately on yours.

You let out a soft sound, kissing Coriolanus back with the same hunger and passion he was giving you. You brought your arms up around his neck as he wrapped his arms around your waist. “You look so beautiful tonight,” he murmured softly, pulling away to look into your eyes.

You gave him a soft smile. “Thank you,” You said, kissing his lips. “You look quite handsome yourself,” You added, looking at Coriolanus’s dark green suit.

Coriolanus sighed. “Livia wanted me to wear it,” He said, slightly annoyed, “I think it looks horrendous. But I must be a supportive husband and follow through with my wife’s wishes.” Coriolanus dipped his head to kiss your neck, using his hands to explore your body.

You laughed, nodding your head. “What a wonderful husband you are,” you said a bit sarcastically.

Coriolanus hummed against your skin. “The best, really,” he said just as sarcastically. He lifted your dress over your hips. You chose not to wear anything underneath the dress which Coriolanus believed to be an excellent decision. “This is quite helpful,” he murmured softly. “Makes things easier.”

“Did it just for you,” You murmured back.

“You’re so good to me,” Coriolanus said. He pressed himself against you, letting you feel his hard on through his trousers. “We have to be quick,” he said a bit unhappily. Coriolanus didn’t like to do quickies as much as he loved taking his time with you. He adores making you feel just as good as you make him feel. “But I promise tomorrow evening will be ours,” he added.

“I’ll hold you to that promise,” You smiled. “How do you want me?”

Coriolanus unbuttoned his pants enough to reveal his hard cock. He too wasn’t wearing any underwear. He licked his lips as he thought about your cunt. “Turn around for me.”

You obliged, turning around with a hand on the door of the bathroom. Coriolanus wrapped an arm around you, dipping his head to kiss your neck as he guided his cock to your entrance. He eased himself inside of you, causing the both of you to let out shaky breaths. You put a hand over your mouth to avoid moaning. “You’re so wet for me,” Coriolanus whispered into your ear, moving his hips slowly at first. “Wish I could take my time with you.”

“Always ready for your cock,” You whispered back, licking your lips.

“Mmm, yes you are,” Coriolanus replied, snapping his hips faster.

You gasped, trying to keep yourself from moaning like a slut. There were people just outside the door and it would be an all-time scandal if the people of Panem found out that the President was having an affair with his secretary.

“Gotta stay quiet for me, baby,” Coriolanus said shakily, thrusting his cock in and out of you tight cunt at a relentless pace. “Ah—fuck, you feel so good,” he almost whined in your ear.

You didn’t reply, not trusting yourself to not moan loudly if you uncover your mouth. Instead you met his thrusts with your own movements, his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly. Coriolanus was moving hard and fast, burying his cock inside of you so good. You threw your head back, closing your eyes in the process.

Coriolanus began kissing your neck, sucking on your pulse point. “Gonna cum inside your tight pussy,” he whispered against your skin, thrusting his hips frantically. You could tell that Coriolanus was very close with how breathless he sounded and how he was holding back his own moans. You felt yourself getting closer, the repetitive thrusting into your g-spot sending you close to the edge.

“Gonna cum, oh my god—“ Coriolanus whispered harshly, close to just moaning out loud as he started spilling inside of you.

With a gasp, you clench around Coriolanus’s cock, gushing as you come. You felt the liquid dripping down your leg as you arched your back against Coriolanus. He fucked you through your orgasm, rocking his hips to milk the both of you. And when you both finished, he pulled out, immediately stuffing his cock back into his pants and zippering them. You were both breathing heavily as you took a moment to just lean your head against the bathroom door. Coriolanus, oh-so-kindly put your dress back down perfectly before turning you around and wrapped his arms around you.

“I needed that,” he murmured into your ear as he pulled you close to him, kissing the top of your head.

You smiled lazily, leaning against Coriolanus as you hugged him back. “Me too,” you replied. “They’re probably wondering where you are,” you sighed.

“Mmm,” Coriolanus made a noise of acknowledgment. “I wish I could just take you home,” he said, breathing in deeply.

It was always moments like this that made you wonder if Coriolanus Snow, the President of Panem, loved you. He always treated you like he had the utmost feelings for you. He would take you out for dinners, buy you gifts, care for you in such a way that only a lover would. But ultimately, you knew that wasn’t the case. Because Coriolanus Snow was incapable of loving another person. That’s what he told you, at least. Regardless, you didn’t mind it whatsoever. Because you’re his secretary, his true right hand woman. And that’s all that mattered, right?

After a few moments, the two of you pulled away and gathered yourselves. You cleaned yourself up, making sure nothing was on your legs while Coriolanus fixed his hair. He gave you one soft kiss. “I’ll see you,” he murmured against your lips.

You smiled, kissing him back. “See you, sir,” you replied.

Coriolanus smirked before walking out of the bathroom. You stayed back for a moment, fixing your lipstick and your hair in front of the mirror. And after a minute, you walked out and back into the party as though nothing happened. You glanced at Coriolanus, who was talking to some military official, and then looked at his wife, who was looking at you.

That’s when you knew Livia Cardew wasn’t as oblivious as she made herself out to be. And you? You simply winked at her and smirked before turning your attention to a random Capitol citizen.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Treat You Better IV

Laia Codina x Reader

Summary: The Conti Cup

“Keep winning the- Y/n!”

Lessi flinches as you dump ice cold champagne down her back before spraying it in Vic’s face.

You laugh and so does Alex. You wiggle your way between Fara and Lessi as Alex calls for you before you leave.

“Good game, y/n,” Alex says and you grin at her.

“Great game. Love winning some silverware at the end of it.”

You’re on such a high as you hold the now empty champagne bottle in your hand.

“Obviously, Victoria and Alessia were saying about how much the match meant to the club and the fans but you had an absolute stunner of a game. You picked out Foord, who picked out Blackstenius. Tell us about it.”

You shrug. “Yeah, I don’t know what to tell you. I was running, I felt the defender at my back and passed to Foordy. She deserves all the credit for getting it to Stina and Stina, of course, for winning us the match. There’s not much to mention. The Conti Cup’s back where it belongs.”

Alex laughs. “Would winning be your favourite moment then?”

You shake your head. “Nah, it was seeing Laia running around in one of my spare boots.”

That shocks a laugh out of Fara too. “It was your boot?”

“Yeah. I always bring spares in case my sole breaks. Just lucky that we’re the same size.”

“And it looks like Codina’s waiting for you now. I’ll let you go, y/n.”

You wave goodbye and immediately crash into Laia. She laughs as her arms wrap around you, leading you back to the rest of your teammates. You lean into her easily. You know that tomorrow, you’ll be achy but you don’t care right now. You’re pumped up on adrenaline and high on life and the sweet smell of Laia’s perfume.

“Winning looks good on you,” You say to Laia,” No matter how many times you you do it.”

She grins at you, a soppy, puppylike smile that has you cradling her cheeks softly.

“I think I prefer winning with you then with anyone else.”

You grin right back at her, winking. “Obviously the Conti Cup is far superior to the World Cup.”

She laughs. “That’s right! It is!”

Laia looks the most pretty when she’s smiling, you think. You can spend hours just watching her smile. It didn’t matter where. She was stunning even when she ranted about her farm back home and her cows.

You make your way back to the others, weaselling your way closer to Caitlin and Katie. As expected, Katie’s found an Irish flag from somewhere. It’s draped over her shoulders as the cup is passed around.

She flings one right at you and you knot it around you like a cape too. Laia reaches out to adjust it and you peak down at her mismatched shoes.

“They’re comfy, right?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, they are. I might take them back to Spain with me.”

“Oh, yeah? If you’re taking my shoes, can I take yours?”

She pretends to think for a moment before teasing,” I suppose you can. If you score then it’s like I scored, right?”

“I’ll dedicate my next goal to you then, luv.”

The crowd is roaring and there’s still adrenaline in your veins so you lean closer and kiss her. Your relationship wasn’t a secret, not really. Not if people really looked. You had no issues with kissing Laia in public.

Everything was perfect. You would be returning to North London in red with the almighty Conti Cup in your possession and your girlfriend in your boots.

The cup was placed in your hands after you and Katie had run up to present it to the fans together, twin Ireland flags flapping in the wind.

You looked at her in confusion.

She rolls her eyes and very pointedly raises her brows towards Laia.

You know what she means now and you grab Laia’s hand. You force it around the other handle of the cup and start to run.

She’s dragged with you for the first few metres before she’s sprinting forward with you. The wind blows in her hair and your flag fans out like a cape.

The fans are chanting your name. They’re chanting Laia’s name too.

They’re chanting your names together as your thrust the cup skywards.

You’re grinning at the crowd before you’re pulled into a kiss right in front of them.

You kiss back and you don’t even care when Katie sprays you with champagne.

[somanyratsinthewalls]

Self-Doubt (+18)

Pairing: Sanji x Fem!Reader

WC: 2600

MINORS DNI

Summary: Sanji isn't himself after being rescued. You help him work through his big feelings

CW: HURT AND COMFORT. trauma? sex, oral sex, MOMMY KINK, boob suckin, unprotected sex (don't) creampies (also don't) and pet names.

(Not proof read my edible kicked in)

— — 

After successfully rescuing your cook from Big Mom’s clutches, there was something off about him. Sanji wasn’t the same flirty, playful man that had left you at Dressrosa. He seemed distracted all of the time, like he was lost inside of his own head as he absentmindedly stirred pots and pans on the stove. His constant fawning over you, Nami, and Robin had slowed dramatically and hell, he barely even argued with Zoro anymore… that was the biggest red flag.  You cared for your crew mate and friend deeply, so you were determined to help him out of this slump. 

Your attempts at getting him to open up to you had repeatedly failed. Each time you asked him if something was bothering him or even just asking how he was doing, he would fake a smile and tell you not to worry about him. You couldn’t give up, you had to try harder. 

One afternoon, you catch Sanji in the kitchen preparing for dinner. 

“Smells good in here!” You say in a sing song voice you enter the galley and see your favorite cook at the counter chopping carrots. 

“Y/n, darling, thank you. Anything you need?” Sanji briefly looks up at you to flash you a tired smile. 

“Hmmm maybe…” You stroll into the large pantry and root around. 

“Y/n if there’s something you desire, I’d be happy to fetch it for you, no need to dig around in there…” Sanji puts his knife down on the cutting board with a huff. 

Before Sanji could step towards the pantry, you emerge with two wine glasses and a bottle of white wine in your hands. 

“What do you say you shuck a couple of those oysters in the ice box and we can enjoy them with this,” You wiggle the wine bottle in Sanji’s direction. “Like we used to back the day? I know they’re your favorite. Remember when we’d have to put a chair under the door handle so Luffy wouldn’t come in and slurp them all down?”

Sanji chuckles lowly and shakes his head. 

“Yes how could I forget? We would get so drunk, too…” He cracks a genuine smily briefly before it fades from his lips. “I’m not hungry. But if you’d like some, I can prepare some for you.”

You sigh.

“I don’t want them by myself. Will you at least have a glass of wine with me?” You smile and step closer to him. 

“I can do that.” Sanji reaches into his pocket and retrieved his wine key. He takes the bottle and glasses from you. He opens the bottle and pours two large glasses full. 

“Ice in yours?” Sanji asks. 

“You always remember how I like things.” You nod and smile. 

Sanji plops a few ice cubes into your glass. You raise yours. 

“Cheers to having you back.” You say as you tip your glass in his direction. 

Sanji hesitates, but eventually grabs his glass and clinked it with yours wordlessly. You both sip your drinks. 

“If you don’t mind, darling, I have to finish preparing for dinner. You can stay if you’d like, but I can’t say I’m much of a conversationalist as of late…” Sanji throws a dish towel over his shoulder and continues his work on the vegetables. 

“It’s fine. You don’t have to talk. I just like being around you.” 

Sanji nods and you watch him cook in silence for the next hour. As you observed him, you notice the heavy grey bags under his eyes, it was now clear that he wasn’t sleeping. Every now and then he would reach up and rub at his neck, obviously sore and aching. You hated seeing him in such a state, but he made it clear he wasn’t ready to talk and you weren’t going to force it. 

Once Sanji finishes the meal, you head out and gather the rest of the crew for dinner. 

The meal was wonderful as always and your rowdy crew filled the room with raucous laughter and conversation. Once everyone had their fill of food and drink, they thanked Sanji and filed out of the dining room to entertain their own evening activities. Most of your crew mates had gone to bed, but since the night was clear and warm you decided to lay out on the deck and look for shooting stars with Chopper. 

“You see those 5 big stars over there?” You say as you point into the distance. 

“Yeah, I think so!” Chopper wiggles his ears. 

“That constellation is called Pablo the Reindeer Warrior! He was a famous big strong reindeer who saved a city from destruction and became a hero!” 

“Wow! Really?!” Chopper looks over at you. 

“No, haha. I had you there!” You throw your head back and laugh. 

“Aww, y/n no fair.” The little reindeer pouts. 

“Sorry little buddy, it was too easy.” 

After a few minutes go by you see a shooting star. 

“Chopper did you see that!?” You turn to the side and see the tiny doctor fast asleep beside you. You smile and scoop him up in your arms and rise to your feet. You carry Chopper to his bed in the medical bay and tuck him in tightly. You yawn. It was late, but you wanted to see if Sanji was still doing dishes before you headed off to sleep. 

Sure enough, as you enter the galley, Sanji’s slender figure was slumped over the sink finishing up the dishes. 

“Hey San-“ You stop once you hear a sniffle. 

You go silent and don’t move any further. Was he… crying?

“*sniff* y/n, it’s late.” Sanji chokes back something like a wet sob. “You should head to bed. *sniff*” Sanji says without turning around, right hand covering his face over the sink.

“Sanji… you’re… not okay…” You say softly as you approach him slowly. “And that’s okay… you just have to let someone help you… we’re a family and you don’t have to do anything alone…” You reach his trembling form and reach up to gingerly touch his shoulder. 

Sanji jerks against your touch. You recoil your hand. 

“No! Don’t you get it! I fucked up! I am fucked up!” Sanji removes his hand from his face, revealing red, wet eyes. “I put everyone in danger and it was all my fault…” Heavy tears spill over and cascade down his porcelain cheeks. 

You immediately pull him into you and put your hand on the back of his head to push him into the crook of your neck. You wrap your other around around his shoulder to keep him close to your body. He cries harder. 

“I can’t sleep, y/n… I keep having nightmares… It’s just too much…” Sanji breathes out into your skin, now wet from his tears. You stroke his hair. 

“Sanji I understand why you might feel like that, but I promise you no one resents you for anything. You were doing what you thought would save us. We’re all just so happy to have you back.” You coo soothingly into his ear. 

“You shouldn’t have come for me, I’m not worth it. I’m a disgusting monster…” Sanji sobs 

You rub circles into his back. 

“Hey, out of all the disgusting monsters we’ve fought over these years, I’m pretty sure you’re very low on the list.” You joke. 

Sanji cries harder. 

“Oh come on, you know I’m kidding. You’re not disgusting and you’re not a monster. Imagine Luffy hearing you say this? You know he wouldn’t stand for it.” You state firmly. 

Sanji’s sobbing slows. 

“Hey… why don’t you stay with me tonight?” You ask. 

Sanji pulls back and looks in your eyes.

“What?” He questions. 

“If you stay with me, you won’t be alone if you have a nightmare. You’ll feel better if you get a decent night’s sleep.” You wipe tears and snot from his princely face. “Please?” You persist. 

“I… Ok…” Sanji resigns. 

“Good, when you finish cleaning up, come to my room.” You push his hair back and retreat to your bedroom deep inside the ship. 

You wash up and slip on a large clean shirt and boy short panties before you slide into bed. You sigh and stretch against your comfortable sheets. 

*knock knock*

“Come in!” You holler from your bed. Sanji meekly peeks his head into your room and you smile and wave him in. He had cleaned up his face and combed his hair, his normal three piece suit swapped for grey sweats and a white tee. 

“Hi!” You sit up in bed and pat the spot next to you in bed. 

“A-are you sure you don’t want me to sleep on the loveseat?” Sanji asked as he pointed at the couch in the corner of your bedroom. 

“Sleeping on a sofa isn’t going to make your quality of sleep any better. Shut up and get in here, cook.” You roll your eyes. Sanji delicately slides underneath your fluffy purple comforter and takes his place beside you. 

“Good. Now get some sleep.” You reach up and turn out your bedside lamp. You settle yourself in, facing inwards curled on your side, how you always slept. You listen to Sanji’s nervous, heavy breathing for a few moments before he spoke. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes?” You open your eyes and look up at him. 

“Could I… hold you?” He asks with a shaky breath. 

“Of course. Come here.” You pull Sanji’s head down to lay between your breasts and he wraps him arm around your waist. You throw your leg over his hip and begin stroking his hair. Sanji couldn’t help but nuzzle his nose deeper into the crease of your breasts through your shirt. You smirk. After a few minutes of innocent cuddling, you feel Sanji’s hand on your side slip up your shirt and caress your naked back. The next thing you notice is the very slight grinding up his hips up into you. He was so cute like this, you couldn’t help but want to let him play… Maybe this is what he needed?

“Here baby…” you quickly pull back and remove your shirt, breasts falling into Sanji’s face in the process. You lay back down and pull his head back to your tits. “Go ahead and suck, sweetheart…” You guide his lips to your erect nipple. 

“Y/n yes…mmmpphh…” Sanji moans around your pert bud, continued to rut his hips into you. You arch your back and sigh at the sensation of his plush lips on your breast. 

Sanji sucks hungrily at your tit as he brings his hand to knead and squeeze at your other one. 

“Mmmmph.. thank you.. so perfect…” Sanji mutters as he pulls off your breast to give the other one the same attention, a sloppy string of saliva now connecting them. Minutes went by with Sanji just desperately suckling your chest, little whimpers leaving his lips every now and then…

“Feels so good, sweet boy, so good for me…” You coo as you tug at his hair. 

“Hmmppph… fuck… thank you mommy….” Sanji groans into your chest. 

You eyes snap open. 

*Oooooh, so that’s what he’s into… you know what? That makes sense…”

It might not be something you were used to, but you were happy with providing Sanji with whatever he needed in this very moment. You pull him gently by his hair out of your breasts and look into his glassy eyes. 

“Wanna be a good boy and fuck me, Sanji?” 

“Gods, more than anything.” Sanji bolts upright and sheds himself of his shirt and sweats, long cock standing at attention. You snap out of your daze staring at Sanji’s large member and shimmy off your panties. You spread your legs wide to entice him to enter you already. Sanji hovers over you. 

“Fuck me, Sanji.” You buck your hips up at him. 

“I can’t… not yet…” 

“What?” You sit up on your elbows. 

“Gotta taste you first… smells so nice…” Sanji drops to his stomach between your legs and spreads your glistening lips with his fingers. “Fucking pretty…” Sanji sighs before diving into your cunt and attaching his lips to your clit. You yelp out in surprise and pleasure. Sanji makes out with your clit as his saliva and your slick dris down the rest of your sex, soaking your skin and the bed under you. You writhe and moan under his tongue as your feel him start to play with both of your holes with his wet thumb and forefinger. His finger teases your soaked pussy as his thumb applied pressure in circles around your tight ass, all as he slurped on your clit. You found yourself hurtling towards an explosive ending very quickly. 

“Shit, Sanji!” You cry out and grip his hair as you cum violently all over Sanji’s face. The moan he let out as you released on him might have been as loud as your own, it was filthy and pornographic. 

Sanji takes one last lick of your sex before coming back up to hover over you. 

“You’re really fucking good at that.” You laugh and wrap your arms around his neck. 

Sanji chuckles and leans down to give you a passionate kiss. The flavor of your orgasm on his lips was making your head spin. 

“Wanna fuck you now…” Sanji whispers as he pulls back from you. 

“You can fuck me baby, I wanna feel you…” 

Sanji straddles one of your legs and pulls the other to wrap around his hip, turning you slightly on your side. He wastes no time in pushing his swollen cock into your seeping hole. Sanji stutters and gasps as he bottoms out inside of you, overwhelmed at the feeling of your warm walls sucking him in so tightly. 

“Y/n… fuck…” Sanji pants and pulls out of you just slightly, admiring your slick coating his shaft already. 

“So good baby, you stretch me out so good…” You purr as you run your hand up and down his chest. 

“Shit…” Sanji pushes back in, all the way to his pelvis and grinds into you, making sure to press into your clit. He continues grinding his hips in circles against yours. 

“Yes! Just like that, so fucking good baby!” You cry out and throw your head back, this particular position had Sanji able to stimulate all of your senses. 

“A-ah- Fuck! You’re squeezing me so tight! A-are you gonna cum?” Sanji stutters as he tries to keep his pace while fucking into you. 

“Yes honey, I’m gonna cum. Keep going, make mommy cum, baby- Ah!” You cry out and your dam bursts all over Sanji’s legs and pelvis. 

“Mommy! Fuck, ah! Can’t hold it, gotta.. gotta fill you! Please!” Sanji shouts as his hips move more erratically. 

In your post orgasm daze you whisper out a short “cum in me, please” and Sanji does just so with a loud groan, surely heard by everyone on the ship. You whimper as you feel him shooting rope after rope of thick white into your womb. Once his body stopped shaking on top of you, Sanji pushed himself off and flopped down next to you in bed. 

“Y/n…” Sanji turns to you and grabs your cheek. “Thank you…” 

You shake your head. 

“Don’t thank me. I’d be doing this with your no matter what had happened. You mean so much to me…” You look up into Sanji’s blue eyes. 

“I… I don’t deserve you…” Sanji looks away. 

“Hey.” You tilt his chin up to you. “No more of that. I thought I made that very clear.” You giggle and place a quick kiss on his lips. Sanji smiles. 

“I’ll never leave you again. I promise.”

xx

[wardenparker]

American as Apple Pie

Jack Daniels x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12k Warnings: Cursing, food/alcohol, meddlesome friends, mention of shooting/guns but the context is carnival games, cheesy flirting, Jack being Jack. Fingering, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex. Summary: Going to a Fourth of July party with your girlfriends turns out to be an unexpected whirlwind. Notes: It wouldn't be a holiday without a little fic to celebrate. Independence Day seemed best acknowledged with a heavy dose of Jack's good natured charm. 🎆🎇💗🤍💙

The Statesman Fourth of July celebration in Louisville, Kentucky is one of the biggest and loudest in the area. It was an excuse to drape everything in red, white and blue, perfect your Uncle Sam costume, and play Lee Greenwood’s ‘Proud to be an American’ on repeat. There is a special whiskey barrel that is opened every year since its founding in 1919. Huge grills are rolled out to cook hamburger and hotdogs by the thousands as it’s an open party for everyone. Ending in a spectacular fireworks show that lights up the sky.

Some friends wanted to go. Girls from the office who were looking for a more festive holiday celebration than watching their siblings' kids play in the pool and playing cornhole while their aunts bitched about grocery prices. Not having anything better to do, you had thrown on the only red, white, and blue clothes you had in your closet and punctuated the look with red lipstick just for fun. Maybe you'll have one too many and flirt with a cowboy. That wouldn't be too bad.

The bolero he normally wears around his neck with the button down and sports coat had been traded for an open collared shirt, a print of U.S flags on them. His normally painted on jeans exchanged for white shorts and cowboy boots changed out with boat shoes. Still, the black Stetson is firmly on his head, although the mustache was still impeccably groomed and no one would mistake him for anything but a cowboy as he drinks from a long neck bottle to beat the mid afternoon heat.

The music filtering through speakers all over the Statesman Distillery property is obviously country, but the actual number of Stetsons in the sea of guests is staggering even to a Louisville resident. It's that time of the year, you suppose, making your way toward one of the many drink carts with your friends as you scope out the crowd.

“Weeeeeellllll, holy shit.” Tequila whistles, twisting his neck as he looks over at the margarita cart, smirking at the choice of drink. “Get a good look at the shorts on those legs.” He nods, making Jack follow his gaze to the group of women who obviously just arrived.

"God bless the USA." Rum pronounces solemnly, only lifting his Stetson from his head to place it over his heart in salute to the group of four ladies in the tiniest shorts he's ever seen that are now getting their drinks.

“Goddamn I love the summer.” Jack whistles, winking at the one in the red top when she looks over at them. “Happy fourth ladies!” He calls out, lifting his beer towards them.

"Happy Fourth!" You call back, raising the frozen margarita you've just been served in their direction as you friends giggle mercilessly around you. The three men who are not bothering to censor their ogling are dressed in some of the worst outfits here. Tiny white booty shorts on one, a stars and stripes Kiss the Cook apron on the tallest, and the third wearing neon red shorts and a muscle tank depicting a bald eagle wearing sunglasses that says You Free Tonight? underneath.

"Rocks Paper Scissors for the tall one?" You friend Madi proposes to the group, eyeing the youngest and buffest of the men like he's the snack she didn't know she was craving.

“No, you can have him.” Tina snorts. “I’ve got my eye on the one with the eagle on his shirt.” She admits, drooling herself at the virile display of man, who can also enjoy themselves.

“Have fun,” you snort, shaking your head and focusing on your drink. “I came here to drink and to line dance very poorly, not to get picked up.”

“Why can’t we have it all?” Madi asks, giggling when the one in the apron motions the group over when no one has looked away.

“I’m not sure white shorts is the guy to break my dry spell,” you mumble to them with an amused grin as the four of you strut over to the men who were watching you. “And you two already called dibs on the others.”

“If you don’t want him, I’ll ride his mustache.” Sandra snorts, smirking slightly at the group of men. “I’m sure my fiancé wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure.” Tina giggles. “We’ll just call Brad up and let him know you’ll be late for dinner because you found a cowboy at a party.”

“He’ll understand.” All of you laugh, knowing that he definitely would not understand. He loved her completely and was lucky enough that she was just as crazy about him. Their wedding is only three months away.

“Ladies.” Kiss the Cook tips his hat gallantly and lets his eyes sweep over every single one of you. “A very happy Independence Day to you beauties.”

All three men clock the ring on the statuesque brunette’s hand and immediately understands that she is off limits. The other two tip their hats as well and Jack grins. “Can we offer you something to eat?”

There is a split second before you look over to fully take in the third man of the group that you’re apparently now hanging out with, and instantly regret the snap judgement made from yards away just a minute or two before. He’s only smaller by comparison, broad shoulders and a strikingly cut jaw accented by the aviator sunglasses he’s wearing and leading down to biceps as thick as his neck and hands that — fuck, if you’d seen his hands beforehand you wouldn’t have said a damn thing, he makes that beer bottle look like a doll accessory. “Ah—We—um, sure,” you manage to blurt out, nodding self-consciously and absolutely aware that your friends are never going to let you live down getting flustered in front of the cowboy.

Madi grins at the way you are suddenly tripping over yourself to accept the offer of a burger. “If we’re gonna eat, maybe we can know who is offering us a plate?” She asks, smiling flirtatiously at the taller man holding the spatula. The three men chuckle. “We go by our work nicknames.” Jack offers, pointing at Rum to start. “Ryan, also known as Rum. Because he can get any party started.” He introduces him with a grin. “Next, we have our ‘kiss the cook’, Luke, who we call Tequila. He thinks he can make clothes come off.” Tequila rolls his eyes and shoves Jack slightly as the older man tips his hat towards you girls. “And I’m Jack, otherwise known as Whiskey.” Tina grins. “Why do they call you that?” She asks, making Jack chuckle. “Because I go down as smooth as the finest whiskey.” He boasts, tipping his aviators down so his eyes find you again and he shoots you a confident wink.

“So you work here then, I assume?” Guys who work for a distillery having boozy nicknames it’s so far off base, but Jack’s declaration that he ‘goes down like the finest whiskey’ has you thinking mustache ride thoughts all over again and if you could do it you might just slap yourself for something so obvious. On the other hand? No man should be able to make a wink look as smooth as he just did.

“Only if you want us to.” Rum smirks at Tina and tips his hat back slightly. “Otherwise we can be whatever you want. Spies, cowboys, hell, maybe all three.” Tequila huffs a cough and slaps Rum on the back. “Are you ladies burger or hot dog kind of women?” He asks, changing the subject.

“I think there’s a rule that you have to have a hot dog on the Fourth of July, isn’t there?” Tina replies, batting her eyelashes pointedly.

“Absolutely.” Tequila agrees. “Now the question is-“ he points the tongs at all of you seriously. “Are you a chili cheese dog person or a peppers and onions person?”

The question sparks a full culinary debate, as Tina insists only mustard is necessary, Sandra and Madi are fans of peppers and onions any way they can get them, and you just shrug over it all because there's no point in trying to be dainty with a hot dog. A chili cheese dog is the only way to go.

Jack chuckles as the girls are chattering, except the one in the red. “You are awful quiet, sugar.” He comments. “Not choosy?”

"Very choosy," you tell him, laughing a little about how involved your friends are getting in this debate with the other two guys. "Chili cheese dog every time. But my friends like to pretend that it's possible to be dainty while eating a hot dog. I'd rather enjoy something delicious."

Jack grins at your answer and points a finger up to tip his hat back on his head. “No, you just gotta jump in and devour it.” He hums, his smirk slightly dirty.

"Whoever put you three in one place today is a menace," you inform him with a deeper, rounder laugh. "But I totally agree. The only way is to jump in."

Jack chuckles, leaning in a little closer to you. “Not true.” He coos. “We were brought together for a good time.” He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer.

It can be both," you concede, getting a whiff of an expensive, musky cologne under the grill and sunscreen smell that hangs all around this booth.

“Well then.” Jack snorts, tapping his bottle against your margarita glass. “To being a menace.” He offers with a smirk.

"Here." A long sip of your drink hides a flustered grin, but you don't mind having run into someone this charming and handsome right off the bat. You and your friends will wander away in due time, and they'll become a fun anecdote for the office, and probably material for the spank bank of each and every member of your group as well.

“So what made you decide to join our little celebration?” Jack asks without any sense of irony despite the bash being massive. There are bounce houses and carnival style game booths set up. Along with all kinds of food and drink.

"Girls' day out." Ordinarily you might feel bad for Sandra, being slightly singled out while the other three of you are being shamelessly flirted with, but she's chatting with Kiss the Cook as well and having a grand time. "When your day is office, home, and back again, sometimes a party is just what you need."

“Oh I understand.” He promises, even if his work is not as traditionally boring all the time, there are plenty of days that the paperwork tedium gets to him.

"Your days are probably a lot more fun than ours." Without knowing that you're reading his thoughts, you just decide to make conversation and enjoy whatever comes from it.

“Some days. Others it’s slower than molasses dripping off a spoon.” He likes the fact that you aren’t just flirting, there’s interesting conversation blooming. “Although I’m enjoying right now.”

"This must be one of the more fun workdays each year." Why wouldn't it be? There are half-dressed women all over the places, and whatever the orientation of these three might be, they're all definitely interested in women. You sip your drink again and find that your head tilts slightly in his direction instinctively. "We're not going to get you in trouble, are we?"

“Nah.” Jack waves away your concern, secretly touched that you would be worried about that. “Well just call this….public relations.” He teases, winking at you again. “How does that sound, sugar?”

"Like you should be a politician," you snort, but honestly you don't mind. It's been a while since you just flirted for the hell of it and it's fun.

Jack wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Sugar, you are breaking my heart.” He groans. “I would never want to be lumped in with those lyin’, thievin’ scumbags.” He shakes his head and puts his beer down to lay his hand over his heart. “I’m a patriot.”

Somehow that only makes you laugh more, and when you meet his eyes again it's with warm cheeks and a bright smile. "My apologies," you hum, tipping your margarita in his direction again like a salute. "We'll stick to drinking and flirting. No filibusters today."

“Now hold on….” Jack leans closer and chuckles. “Depends on what kind of filibuster we are talkin’ about.” He drawls. “Some of them can be a good time.” His eyes slide up and down your body suggestively.

Raising one eyebrow at him, sip your sour-sweet vacations through the bright pink straw and smirk. “You want to have a prolonged speech that stalls all activity about my body? Seems counterintuitive, cowboy.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “I don’t think you understand darlin’.” He leans in even closer. “We ain’t talkin’ during my filibuster, we’re just prolonging the main event.” He explains.

One second your head is tiled and the next second you're clamping your mouth shut on a bitten lip. He's just gone from casually flirting to casually painting a mental image that will last you weeks. "You're pretty sure of yourself, cowboy," you hum when you remember how to speak again.

“Have to be.” He admits, truth more than cockiness in his words. “You don’t have to accept, but….” He smirks. “You could always consider it your patriotic booty.” His pun is horrible and he knows it, but he uses it proudly. With the same confidence he wears his Fourth of July outfit.

You snort before you can stop yourself, shaking your head at him as you wave off the laugh as good natured. "That's awful." The play on 'patriotic duty' is absurd, but somehow he manages to make it circle back to charming in a way that is fairly impressive. From most guys it would just sound cheesy or plain bad.

“It is, isn’t it?” He agrees with a grin. “Really awful.” He reaches for his beer again and finishes it in one long swallow.

"Worst line I've heard in a very long time." Even though you're agreeing, you chuckle and shake your head. Why the hell not? When was the last time you just cut loose and had some fun? Can you even remember? "It's...not a no, though."

“Hmmmm.” He lifts a brow and smirks at you again as he reaches into the cooler next to him for another beer. “Well then, I better make sure that you are fed, sugar.” He tells you. “‘Cause you might be in for a hell of a night.”

"You promise a girl a hell of a lot." But for some reason you don't think he's lying, or even exaggerating that much. Maybe it's wishful thinking, you can't tell, but Jack fixes up your hot dog with flare and hands it over just as you finish your margarita.

He takes your empty glass and chuckles. “Would you like another frosty margarita? Or perhaps the blackberry old fashions that are being made?” He asks, pointing to another stand just a few feet away, featuring the ‘87 single barrel that Jack loves.

"I think I have to have whiskey this time, don't I?" Given his nickname, it would almost seem rude not to. Especially when you've decided to encourage him. At least you've been polite enough not to let your eyes wander down and inspect those tiny little shorts he has on.

“Right away.” Jack gives you a two fingered salute before he spins on his heel and hurries towards the booth to collect you the best blackberry old fashion you’ve ever had.

Sandra scrambles over during the momentary pause, searching your face for anything besides the focused attention you're paying to the cowboy's ass as he walks away. "Are we rescuing or retreating?" She murmurs, hot dog in hand but ready to bounce in a heartbeat if you need it. "Actually?" Glancing up at her, you offer a sideways grin of defeat. "I think I'm gonna hang out a while. Hot-but-cheesy cowboy kinda got to me. I wanna see how this plays out."

“Really?” Her brow shoots up and she grins at you. “Takin’ that mustache for a ride?” She teases. “I’m jealous. He’s got a fantastic one.”

"I'll tell Brad to grow one before the wedding," you tease, barely managing not to snort again with laughter as Jack heads back your way.

“Ladies.” Jack smiles with a charming aplomb as he hands you the old fashion he had made for you, and offers Sandra the one he had gotten for himself.

"Oh, I'm alright." Sandra insists, smiling her thanks but not taking the drinks. "Designated driver. I had my one and now I'm set for the day." That smile flashes over at you, and she squeezes your hip gently but encouragingly. "I think we're going to wander. You want to come?"

It's a clear chance to break away if you have suddenly changed your mind and you want to, but you shake your head and lean over to kiss your friend's cheek. "I'll catch up with you guys later," you tell her, though at present you aren't actually sure if you will or not.

“I’ll keep her entertained.” Jack promises when your friend’s eyes turn towards him and he can read a slight warning in them. “And return her to you when she’s bored with me.” He adds.

“You have our numbers,” Sandra reminds you. “One text and we come running.” She blows you a kiss before stepping away, satisfied that Jack will at least be respectful as well as pretty, and that’s worth its weight in gold.

“You don’t have to stay.” Jack hums. “But I’ll make sure you don’t regret it if you do.”

"Promises, promises," you sing song, but rather than letting the moment get heavy you take a first bite of your hot dog and groan happily.

He chuckles and lets you enjoy the hotdog, admiring the way you save a dollop of mustard before it escapes and takes a sip of his drink. “After you eat, are you wanting to dance or maybe play a few games?”

"Either." Pleased with the idea that he might put a little more work into this than just fucking you and having a nap after, you end up smirking a little before the last bite of your food. "Both?"

“Done.” He agrees easily, holding out a napkin for you like a gentlemen. Other agents have taken over the grills because Tequila and Rum have magically disappeared with your friends. “Games first, let your hotdog settle.”

Gone in mere minutes, you make sure you haven't smeared your mouth with mustard or chili before picking up the drink he brought you and motioning ahead of you toward the rest of the fair. "Lead the way, cowboy."

The first booth is one that all the agents have been warned to throw. It’s the shooting gallery. He grins as he cocks his head to the side. “Whatcha think?”

"I can't say I'm much with a gun. Besides maybe a Super Soaker." The big plushies and toys behind the counter look just as inviting as they're supposed to, though, and you shrug. "But what the hell. Think you can give me a few pointers?"

“Let’s see how you do and maybe I’ll help you win a prize?” Despite the warning, Champ won’t be too mad if he shows off just a little. Especially since all the prizes have been paid for by Statesman already, leaving the game free to play.

"I have a feeling I'm about to embarrass myself for your amusement." Despite that, you laugh and take your place at the booth. The moving targets are fairly standard — bright yellow duck-like figures that do not resemble the actual animals but look more like rubber duckies that will fall over on the track when shot. "Here goes nothing," you decide, figuring that if you get even two you'll be extremely proud of yourself.

Jack uses this to his advantage and presses close behind you, holding your elbow up. “Steady.” He murmurs in your ear.

"Hell of a thing to say to a girl when you're that close," you mumble, but the smirk in your voice is obvious.

“I can always say more.” He teases playfully, nudging your arm up slightly. “Be a good girl and take a deep breath.”

It's almost frustrating how well that works on you, making you inhale sharply and shallowly at the words and completely giving yourself away before you can follow the direction and inhale slowly like he's told you to.

You miss, but it was actually closer than Jack had figured the first shot would be. “Good job!” He praises, reaching for your hips and shifting your core slightly, brining you back against him more. “Try again, sugar.”

Whatever the cologne is he's wearing, it reminds you of a campfire in the middle of a forest and that might be fogging your mind more than helping you concentrate. Again, you inhale deeply and squeeze the triggering, putting far more work into this silly shooting game than you need to but finding that you actually clip one of the targets this time and manage to almost knock it over.

“Almost got it.” Jack hums in approval. “Let’s see you knock that same one down.”

Utter concentration isn't possible with him pressed up against you, but you breathe again and call yourself to order, managing to breathe and aim and drop your elbow and all of those other things in just the right harmony to actually knock over one of the targets on the next try. It's not enough to get you a prize, but it's enough to have you doing a little wiggled dance of celebration that all the effort paid off.

Jack chuckles, happy with your achievement. “Good job, sugar.” He praises. “You did a good job.”

"Not bad for an accountant," you joke, turning a little to beam at him.

“Not too bad at all.” He winks, nodding to the game handler as they set the target back up. “Now I want you to pick out which prize you want.” He tells you, taking the gun from your hand.

"Cocky." You smirk at him but glance back at the booth and consider the options hanging from the top of the booth. Right in front, there is a white teddy bear with blue and red stars wearing a Statesman t-shirt. "How about that one right there?"

Jack hums in approval and looks towards the attendant. “Ten shots in a row.” The kid, who can’t be more than seventeen explains. “Knock all ten down and you win the prize.”

There's no way he'll do it, but you step far enough away to give him room and wave one hand toward the little metal duckies. "Show off for me, cowboy."

Jack settles his hat more firmly on his head and since it’s ten shots, he picks up another gun to have one in each hand. “Oh I will.” He promises as he sends both weapons twirling around his trigger fingers in a smooth gun trick.

Despite literally asking him to show off, your eyes still widen with the trick and you're left half-giggling and half-staring as he knocks down every single target with grace and seemingly no effort at all.

The targets are easy and Jack might have been showing off just a tad by alternating shots with both hands, making sure that you know he’s just as accurate with both hands. The targets are down and he turns towards you with a grin. “Your prize, sugar.” He bows as the stuffed bear is handed to you.

More than a little surprised by the display that was just put on for your benefit, you choke out a laugh, thank the kid running the booth, and positively curtsy to Jack in exchange for the bow. “Alright, I admit it,” you laugh in utter surprise, leaning forward to press a kiss to his cheek like a fairy tale princess bestowing a token. “I’m very impressed.”

“Good.” Jack smirks slightly and looks at the bear. “I think it’s always important to impress a lady.”

“Consider us deeply impressed indeed,” you joke, holding up the bear beside you like it might have had an opinion in the matter all its own.

Jack smirks slightly. “Do you want to play some more games or dance?”

“I don’t see how we could do any better at the games.” ‘We’ here meaning him — your own performance was dismal but that hardly matters. He’s smiling at you like he wants to make you scream in the best way possible and you want to see if he moves as well on the dance floor if he claims to in bed. “Let’s go dance.”

“Yes ma’am.” Jack takes the hand that is holding your drink and carries it for you. Looping his arm through yours so you can still hold your bear. “We’ll let him watch and learn.” He jokes, motioning to where other stuffed animals are resting while couples cut up the large dance floor.

“For when all the other bears decide to have a hoedown of their own?” That’s about the cutest thing you can think of — aside from him — and you grin at the idea. “I like that. Teddy Bear Hoedown is like a sequel to the Teddy Bear Picnic.”

He chuckles and you go over to the large table, setting down your bear in a particular spot. “He will be safe.” Jack promises you.

“So full of promises today.” The little coo in your voice is teasing, but maybe that’s just how he is? Reassuring and protective is not a bad combination in a man. Not at all.

“My momma always said never make promises you can’t keep.” Even with your drink in your hand after he presses it to you, Jack sweeps you up in his arms to take you out to the dance floor.

“And you always do what your momma tells you to, like a good southern gentleman.” It’s just a guess, but as he twirls you around to settle against him, cradling you in his arms so you can drink and dance while you away with the slower tempo song that’s playing, you just have to grin. “Very smooth,” you admit without a hint of begrudging in the compliment.

“Sugar, all my moves are smooth.” Jack boast, smirking as he gently glides around the floor with you, taking special care not to jostle your drink. The next song will be faster, but right now, the breathless couples are resting slightly with the bluesy sounds of Patsy Cline crooning to them.

“I’m starting to get that.” Not that you mind. Coming to this whole big carnival for the holiday was just for fun after all. But you glance over at Jack after taking the last sip of your drink and find your smile going a little lopsided. It isn’t the booze. He is that handsome.

He hums, his voice a little rusty as he starts to quietly sing along with the song. Only slightly off key as he serenades you with a grin on his face. One that tells you he’s well aware that he’s not the best singer, but he enjoys being a little silly.

Maybe it’s silly. Or maybe it’s human. Maybe it’s because it’s both, you start singing along with him, quietly and just a tad off key. Two silly, awkward, imperfect little people out there on the dance floor swaying in each other’s arms and singing ‘Walkin’ After Midnight’ to each other like a chest moment from a 90s romantic comedy. It’s impossible not to look at his lips at least a few times, both of you grinning when one of you flubs a lyric. And at the end of the song when he twirls you around again to land tight against his chest? The only possible place you can look are his eyes or those lips again, like a magnet pulling you in.

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes drop to his lips, basically asking for him to kiss you. He leans in slightly right before the song changes and is incredibly peppy. A song to line dance to. “Oops.” Jack smirks.

One another day or with another man it might have annoyed or frustrated you to be more or less cockblocked by a deejay. Today? With Jack? Your answer to it all is just to snort in amusement at how pleased with himself he looks and let yourself get all swept up in the dance. It was barely an hour ago that you met him. It does no one any harm to spend a little more time together before things get frisky.

The beat is easy to dance to and despite the fact that you might not know all the steps, Jack does. “Just follow me, sugar.”

The trouble with line dancing is that if you don't know every move you end up looking like an idiot, but you nod and decide to put a little bit more trust in him for the time being. If you were about to kiss the guy, you should at least be able to do that, right? "I'm with you," you promise him, knowing you can keep up.

Jack files into the natural line that forms, partners slightly in front of their men and everyone starts to move together. ‘Heel, toe, dosey doe, come on baby. Let’s boot-scoot.”

Able to pick it up step by step, you follow Jack's lead for movement and watch the couple in front of you the once or twice you get confused, until you're very smoothly and easily moving through the dance with glee. It's such a simple thing but so welcome, and utterly fun to boot.

You are laughing and that is all that matters as Jack grabs your waist to pick you up and spin you around before setting you back down in time with the other couples on the floor. “Having fun?”

“Every second I possibly can,” you answer with a light, bubbling giggle. He’s a strong lead — which is wonderful in a dance partner but gives you ideas about what he could be like in bed. Not to mention how strong he is…

“Good.” Jack is almost ninety-nine percent certain that he is taking you home tonight, but he wants you to enjoy yourself.

"And I hope you are, too?" Glancing back at him as he turns you, you raise one eyebrow at him in question.

“No doubt, sugar.” Jack is a shameless flirt, but oftentimes it’s not leading to more than that. Unless it’s his mission to seduce a target. This- this is just for him and he likes that you are having fun with his corny nature. “Best damn party I’ve been to in forever.” He promises. “Company makes it good.”

“Company is what matters.” And maybe it’s the silliness of it all again, but you throw him a wink before the dance has you turning again. He seems to like a like cheese with his flirting, and frankly that just makes it more fun for you.

The song finishes up and Jack decides that he will twirl you around once more and dip you down low, just to make you giggle. People clap and he grins at you over his aviators. “Another dance, or another drink, sugar?”

“One more dance?” He’s far too much fun like this, with moves even you have to admit he can be proud of, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to give that fun up just yet. Besides which…it might be a bit embarrassing for the guy whose nickname is Whiskey to find out you’re a bit of a lightweight.

He waggles his brows when the song turns to another slow one, meant to press bodies together. “Never turn down a chance to hold a beautiful woman close.” He promises as he tugs you in.

“I don’t believe you do.” It may be a small moment of teasing but the fact that he doesn’t take himself too seriously speaks volumes to you. Relaxed and confident are too things that don’t always compliment each other well — it can come off as pure arrogance whereas he’s cocky in a way that is a bit cheeky and fun. Everything about the man is over the top. “But then,” you hum, winking for good measure. “Neither do I.”

“Really?” Jack’s grin blows into a fully devilish smile and he looks around speculatively. “And which beautiful woman would you choose?” He asks with a chuckle.

For his amusement, you make a show of surveying the room even while you’re pressed tight up against him, and nudge him slightly when you spot a cute girl in the corner being talked at by some other guests she doesn’t seem to be too interested in. “Do you see the cute little redhead over there?” Your own nose points the way to him when you nod. “In the corner? She’s at a table with a blonde, but these two guys keep trying to flirt with her. I think she’s talk rather be flirting with her blonde friend.”

“Good call.” Jack snorts. “That’s Grenadine.” He explains. “She works at Statesman too.” It’s interesting that you seem to have an eye for agents.

“Does everybody get a booze related nickname?” You ask, amused at the idea of it. If you all got accounting nicknames, things would start sounding weird very fast at the office.

“Mixers count.” Jack chuckles. “It makes it easy when there’s twelve John’s working around the place.” He reasons.

"Fair enough, I guess." That does, logistically, make a bit of sense. And frames Statesman as a fairly whimsical place to work in the process. After twirling around the dance floor a little more, you hum softly to yourself and lift your head, raising one eyebrow in question. "Did you always want to work in the booze biz?" He seems silly enough to appreciate the phrasing, and you grin. "Or do you want to be something else when you grow up?"

“Just wanted to raise some hell.” Jack admits with a chuckle. “Was in the Navy for a little bit. Found out I like the freedom of the private world better.”

“Rules.” You huff dramatically, blowing a raspberry to make him laugh. “Who needs ‘em?”

Jack laughs, a full belly laugh of good humor. “Exactly.” He agrees. “Plus the pay is better.”

“There’s that too.” A nod of agreement comes on the end of your own laughter. “Distilleries pay well? I can’t say I’ve ever thought about it.”

“Good enough to buy corny outfits for the Fourth of July picnic.” He jokes, taking his aviators off and turning them around to perch on your nose.

“That’s what your shorts need!” You tease, cackling out loud and pushing his sunglasses a little further up your nose. “Ears of corn! The perfect symbol of Americana.”

Jack laughs again. “I’ll have to see if I can order some for next year.” He hums.

"Perfect." The grin you aim at him is almost blinding. "I guess I'll have to come back and see if you found any."

His smug smirk deepens and he waggles his brows. “Yeah?” He asks. “Maybe I’ll have to model them for you.” He suggests. “Make sure they are cheesy enough. Rum talked me out of my Daisy Dukes of Freedom.”

"Oh my god..." You barely manage not to snort with laughter over that image. "Do I want to know?"

“Silkies.” He explains. “Running shorts in the military are…brief.” He hums with a grin. “I had some American Flag ones but then Rum was complaining my upper thighs were too white to wear them.”

"Your friend's objection was your lack of tan?" That only makes you laugh harder, and by the end of the song you're practically clinging to each other as you share that laughter between you. "I dunno, Jack." With your lips pursed, you correct yourself. "Whiskey." He's sure as hell smooth, so why not just use the nickname? "I think you might have to do a little tanning so you can wear them again."

“Well I left my speedo in Italy.” He chuckles. “So how do you suggest I tan?”

That opens up a whole new line of questioning, but in this moment you just flash him an even bigger grin. "Nude, hopefully."

He pretends to be shocked, mouth opened and he reaches for his chest as if he is clutching pearls. “Why I declare!” He drawls. “That is such a scandalous suggestion.” His lips curl into a smirk. “I love scandal.”

"I had a feeling you might." The song is over, your revolving has stopped, and as the next — much more upbeat — song begins, you tilt your head slightly to the edge of the dance floor. "You wanna go be scandalous, Whiskey?"

“Is that an offer?” He asks, lifting a brow and giving you a chance to change your mind. He loves to flirt and have a good time, but he wants it to be enthusiastic.

Hadn't he caught you staring at his lips maybe fifteen minutes ago? Was it really only just a few dances since then? It seemed like days spent basking in his energy and charm. Ah well. Why the fuck not? The Founding Fathers were all freaks anyway, might as well celebrate their way. "Yes."

Well, sugar…” Jack sweeps his hat off his head and holds it over his heart. “You just made my damn year.” He promises with a wink. “And I guarantee I’ll make yours.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that, cowboy.” Something tells you he’s bragging with plenty of proof to back him up, but you still give him a crooked smile as you dig your phone out of your pocket. “I’m going to tell my friends not to wait for me.”

“I’ll go collect Mr. Bear for you while you do that, sugar.” He nods and sets his hat back on his head and moves away so you can text your friends privately.

Sliding open your phone, the group chat you have with your friends is full of photos, videos, and excitement shared between them during the day. You’ve been apart from them longer than you expected but they seem to be having a ball — though Rum and Tequila don’t feature in any of the photos or videos so it seems like you’re the only one who stuck with an interested fella today.

Don’t wait up for me, ladies. You type out, and send along a selfie of you wearing Jack’s aviators with him picking up your prize bear off the table in the background. Gonna save a horse by riding that cowboy.

The answers that come back are swift and all congratulating you. Teasing you about your quick change of mind.

Yeah, yeah. I’ll give you all the gossip tomorrow. You write back, barely smothering a grin and you have to bite your lip to keep it at bay. I’ll send you guys a photo of his place and the address when we get there. If you never see me again, tell the cops it was the cheesy pickup lines that convinced me to go with him.

Jack watches you giggle as you put your phone away and walks back to your side with the bear. “See? Safe and sound.”

"Both of you." And something tight and gnarled in your heart seems to breathe more easily in a way you don't quite understand. It's an excitement you haven't felt in a very long time. "Lead the way," you say, accepting the bear happily when Jack deposits him in your arms.

“Did you ride with your friends, or do you want to follow me?” Jack’s Bronco is close to the party, having been here for hours bringing in coolers and helping to set up. He pauses by it and taps the side. “Give you a ride to your car if you want?”

“We all rode together, so I guess I have to beg a ride with you.” Saying it out loud makes it feel very real, but for some reason you’re not nervous. There is a tingle of anticipation and excitement but no worries.

Jack nods and opens the door to the passenger side for you. “Then let me give you the address of where we are going.”

“Thank you.” For both the door and for his understanding, you offer him a soft smile as you climb into the Bronco. So many men these days take the sensible precautions of women they’ve just met as an insult. It’s nice to not have to skirt the line and simply be upfront with him.

He smirks at you as he whips out his phone and opens it up to air drop you a location. “Nothing but details, sugar.”

“Which is the same thing the girls are gonna say to me tomorrow,” you tease, sitting back in the buttery soft seats as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“Then I better make sure you got nothin’ but good things to say.” Jack chuckles.

“I guess you’d better.” And you wink, even though the promise makes you squirm slightly in your seat.

“I don’t live too far.” Jack converses as he drives, wanting to you at ease. “That way I can be in the office easily in an emergency.”

“Like oh no, the whiskey isn’t old enough yet?” You ask, confused as to what kind of emergency a distillery could possibly have.

He chuckles. “Or the storage tanks collapsed and flooded the complex in raw, unbarreled whiskey.” He counters. “Thieves. Corporate spies.” He doesn’t get into the extra security Statesman has, that would be a little much for you to understand.

“Corporate spies. Thieves. You make it sound so…” Searching for the word, you notice he never even gets on a highway to get back to his place. He’s simply driving through a suburb as ramblingly as he pleases, and then turns down a long country road. “So very much like the beginning of a self-discovery novel, where the main character is just a lowly employee who finds out their job is really just a cover for something illegal or magical.” Grinning at him, you turn in the front seat and look at him instead of the drive. “Need an accountant? The place sounds fun.”

“Never know, maybe we could.” He chuckles, knowing he would enjoy seeing you around the office more. Might actually want to sit behind his desk more often if he could expect a view like you.

“Never know,” you agree, but your attention is quickly diverted by the little white-painted farmhouse with its picket fence and big shady trees outside that he pulls up beside. “It’s so cute!” You exclaim, having expected to see him living in something huge or deeply masculine. A house you’d see on Yellowstone or picture Clint Eastwood outside.

“Thanks.” He shoots the house a proud smirk. “My great-grandaddy built the place with his own two hands.”

“I love it even more now.” Madi would point out that you’re a sucker for a family story, and she would be right.

Jack is proud of the restoration and tasteful updates that have been done to the old place, an homage to the past. “Then you’ll love it when I tell you that they are buried up on that hill.” He chuckles, pointing to a little fenced off area around a large magnolia tree.

“Being a sentimental man runs in your family. I do like that.” When he pauses in sliding out of the Bronco to open your door and raises an eyebrow at you, you fluster. “Not that I assume you might be sentimental about me,” you clarify immediately. “Just that I appreciate a man who isn’t afraid to be passionate.”

“Sugar, that is something you’ll get to witness firsthand.” He promises as he climbs out and saunters around the front to help you out.

It’s a beautiful little place he’s got, and when he helps you out of the car you can see the wrap around porch does go all the way around, and that the house has been added on to in back. Maybe the second level was an add-on as well, you can’t quite tell. But it speaks to generations of love and stubbornness to stay here and add to this old place instead of moving or building new, and you like that. Loving and stubborn isn’t a bad combination by any means.

“Do you want a drink?” Jack offers. “Water, Coke?” He doesn’t just want to ply you with alcohol, so he offers other things, even though he is walking towards the bar cart in the corner.

“You can make two of whatever you’re drinking.” Whether that’s alcoholic or not, you have a feeling you’ll be putting your glass aside in favor of paying attention to other things soon enough.

“Hmmmm.” The countertop ice maker is put to use after you tell him this and Jack adds a little flair to his movements as combines orange vodka, pineapple juice and peach schnapps into a shaker and mixes it up before straining the cold alcoholic drink into two glasses and floats some blue raspberry vodka onto the top. “Here you go sugar.” He hands it to you with a wink.

“Do you have friends called Vodka and Schnapps, too?” It’s just a light tease, but he poured and mixed and assembled the drink so deliberately that you found yourself mesmerized by his movements. “Or one with the same name as whatever this drink is?”

“There are colleagues by those names.” He admits with a grin and takes a sip of his drink and groans in approval. “But this one was made just for you.” He hum. “I call this ‘Lick Her Right’.”

“Shit, Jack.” You end up smothering flustered giggles as you have your head at him and try a sip of the fruity sweet cocktail. It’s every bit as delicious as you expected and doesn’t taste a thing like alcohol — which probably means it’s the strongest drink you’ve had all day.

He chuckles at your cute little giggle. “Sweet with just a touch of twang,” he murmurs, stepping closer to you and leaning in to nuzzle his nose against your cheek next to your ear. “Just like the best pussy.” He murmurs in your ear. “Like I’m betting your pussy tastes.”

“Need you to do one thing for me before I let you find out,” you murmur, finding that just as you expected you’ve only had a few sips of the drink before something much more enticing has been presented to you.

“And what’s that, sugar?” Right now, he will offer you the moon. Give you whatever he needs to be able to strip off those tiny shorts of yours and drape your legs over his shoulders for a private Independence Day celebration.

“You’re gonna need to kiss me, cowboy.”

He laughs, tossing his head back and reaching up to take off his hat. “Much obliged to, sugar.” He promises before he swoops in for a kiss, his tongue still cold and fruity from the cocktail as he slides it into your mouth.

He’s playful and enthusiastic, two things you all but demand from a lover, and your arms slide around each other with greedy intensity as the rest of the room goes blank around you.

Jack’s drink is all but forgotten when he sets it on the table and pulls you closer, letting your body press against his as he plunders your mouth and groans in happiness that you accepted his invitation to come back to his place.

The half-wall behind you becomes the perfect thing to lean back against as Jack presses in, holding you as close as he is holding the last shred of decency you’ve got as you plunder each other’s mouths eagerly. You’re damn lucky your glasses didn’t get so thoroughly tossed aside that they fell over and stained his rug, but right now all you care about is chasing that sticky sweet taste from each other’s tongues.

His hands slide under your tiny little tank top, fingers pinching the back of your bra strap and unhooking it with one hand while the other slides under the cup to posses one breast. Keeping his tongue tangled with yours as he moans at the soft fullness of it, the hard nipple against his palm.

It's so smooth you might have barely noticed the movement at all, except his hands are hot and callused and the touch of them on your skin makes you moan into the messy kiss with enthusiasm. Nothing but the perfect heat and heaviness of him can penetrate your mind at this point — and that includes the heaviness growing hard in his own shorts as you both do your best to stay as pressed against the other's body as possible.

Jack presses his cock against your tiny shorts, grinding into you as he paws and plucks at your tit, pulling the most beautiful sounds from your throat as he slides his other hand to your neglected breast to give it the same treatment.

Pressed between Jack and the wall, your own hands wander freely. Mapping his body from broad shoulders down to slim waist, there is no hesitation there when you slide one hand into the back pocket of his shorts and pull him forward, inviting him to grind into you just as much as he likes as he swallows your moans.

There’s nothing wrong with a little over the clothing humping in Jack’s mind. Grinding against you and squeezing your tits as he kisses you is just the warm up for the night, although it feels pretty fucking good as you pull him closer.

The world has gone the most gorgeous shade of blank, narrowing down to just Jack, and when you finally can’t breathe in any more of him and have to break the kiss for air, the matching groans you let out are sweeter than any other sound.

You’re gorgeously giving and soft. Yielding to him. He reluctantly releases one breast and pulls back just a bare two inches to slide his hand between to you pop the button open on your shorts. His hand immediately sliding inside to delve into your panties.

“Fucking—” The rest of the curse, whatever it is, gets swallowed up by your moan as his thick fingers make quick work of finding your slick and swollen clit to draw circles around it that have you seeing double.

You’re wet and nothing is sexier to Jack than a wet pussy on an eager woman. He groans into your mouth. “Already so wet.” He rasps. “Want to see how much wetter you can get.”

“Before I dehydrate?” You huff, growling into a kiss with ferocity and angling your hips to try to get him to slide his fingers inside you. Not that it’s been very long at all since he first kissed you, but you’re on fire with wanting him and have been for hours. “Or before you finally fuck me?”

He chuckles into your mouth and bites at your lower lip. “Both?” He teases, rubbing your clit again before he finally gives you what you want and slowly sinks two fingers into you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Shaking as he twists his wrist and presses the heel of his palm against your clit, you’re even more pinned against the wall behind you than you were a second ago. Far from finding it confining, your fingers dig into Jack’s broad shoulders with enthusiasm as you cling to him in that moment.

“That’s it.” He groans, feeling your walls pulse around his fingers and he hums in approval. “You’re little pussy likes my fingers.” He coos. “Why don’t you cum on them for me?”

If you could ever cum on command, it would probably be right now. It would be for the pair of thick fingers curled so perfectly inside your cunt every time he pumps them inside you that your vision whites out a little at the edges. It would be for the man who makes you simultaneously tense and limp with need. As it is, your toes are curling in your sneakers and you're about damn ready to flood his hand any second while the only sound you can make as an incoherent moan.

“Sugar, sugar, sugar.” He groans. “You’re so close.” He continues to finger you, loving how your eyes are rolling back. “Just let go and give it to me.” He begs. “I want to strip you down and eat your pussy, but I can’t until you cum for me.”

The absolute whimper of frustration on your lips and hearing what's coming next mighty really be what does it. What has you moaning his name into the warm evening air and holding onto him so tightly that your fingernails leave neat little half-moon shapes at the base of his skull. When you cum it's full force, with shaking legs and an arching back, and all you can think — when you eventually get your thoughts back after the fireworks subside in all your nerves — is how fucking glad you are that you took a chance on going home with this man.

Jack loves to see a woman cum. Always beautiful and you are no exception. The hollow of your throat is the perfect place to moan his praise, the white shorts he’s wearing becoming damp and showing it as he leaks pre-cum into the material. His fingers are soaked and making the most obscene sounds as he pumps them into your cunt until your entire body sags against the wall and is only held upright by his pinning you there. Then he slows his wrist and ease you to a stop as you pant his name. “Good girl.” Jack rasps against your throat. “Now I want to see what kind of mess your pussy made.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a second,” you huff, giggling under your own breath and a little dizzy. If he can do that with his hand, the rest of him is going to reduce you to a puddle. “Stripping is tricky when my legs are wobbly.”

He chuckles and pulls his hand out of your shorts to grab your thighs. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” He promises, pulling you up into his arms and guiding your legs around his waist as he pulls away from the wall to carry you through the house to his bedroom.

It only encourages you, which you’re sure was his intention, you steal kisses and swoon at this strength as you carries you down a hallway. By the time he turns into his room you’ve found the spot on the long column of his throat that makes him moan when you suck on it, and the bruise you’ve left there will be sure you remind of you every time he looks in a mirror for at least the next few days.

Jack’s bed is large, inviting and it’s not as heavily masculine as you might expect. The comforter is pillowy when he lays you down and smirks as he pulls back to look at you. “Now it’ll be easy to strip you down and not worry about those legs, except for how they look on my shoulders.” He boasts.

“I think I’m past the point in my dignity where I can dispute that,” you tease, wishing he hadn’t stood up fully because now he’s too far away for you to grab.

Jack unbuttons his shirt and shrugs it off his shoulders. Revealing the shape of his hard cock pressing through the white shorts and he grins down at you. “We will just have to have an undignified time then.”

“Deeply undignified, I hope.” You agree, letting your eyes wander down the length of his body and darken all over again at the sight of what is waiting for you.

“Is there any other kind of sex?” Jack snorts, quickly unbuttoning and stripping down his shorts to groan in relief when his cock bounces free.

If you were going to debate with him, whatever argument you had gets lost on your tongue. He's a mouthwatering sight — veiny, cut, and curved just right so you know you're not only going to have him pulsing against your g-spot later but you're going to be cross-eyed and breathless while he's at it. "Fuck I hope not," you grin, licking your lips. "At least not tonight."

He smirks proudly and kneels on the bed, shuffling closer to reach for your shorts. He drags them over your hips along with your panties while you lift your hips so he can slide them down your legs and toss them on the floor. Eager to spread your thighs and get a good look at that slick pussy.

Sure it was only five minutes ago that your legs were shaking in his living room, but when he very surely moves your ankles to open your legs wide on top of his bed, your fingers drop between your spread legs without hesitation. His eyes on your pussy have you craving touch all over again.

There’s only your shirt left and Jack hates for the material to conceal your tits from his eyes, so he slides his hands up, grabbing the hem of it to pull over your head, unable to resist dipping his head down and lapping at a hard nipple.

It was barely a scrap of a shirt and this is so much better — tits free for his attention and back arching up to meet his mouth just as eagerly as he dips his head. The cool air in his room makes your already hard nipples peak even tighter, but all you can think about is the heat of his mouth and the heaviness against your thigh. Every inch of him feels incredible and he's not even inside you yet.

He lavished attention on one, then the other before he pulls away with a pop and a grin as he starts to slink back down your body. Intentions clear as he scrapes his teeth over the top of your mound and pulls your legs up onto his shoulders to cradle his head.

"Jack..." his name is a whine from your lips as he kisses the insides of his thighs, and one of your hands fists in his hair to tug encouragingly at the short strands.

He chuckles and blows a little air on your pussy to hear you whine again, your hips jerking up to try to meet his mouth. “Now, let’s get down to the business at hand.” He intones seriously. “You’ve got a pretty pussy that is begging to be eaten.” He looks up into your eyes and winks. “And I’m just the cowboy for the job.”

He dives in like a man starved, making you feel like every single woman whose pussy he tried to eat over the years must have denied him otherwise there wouldn't be any reason to be this voracious. That first lap at your slit has you gasping sharply, eyes rolling back in your head and tugging tighter on his hair in needy, silent gratitude. You'll be lucky if you can form any words beyond his name in all this. His name and endless repetitions of 'yes' or 'fuck'. But that's all you need.

Anything that Jack sets out to do, he does with vigor and eating your pussy is no different. His hands are wrapped around your thighs, pulling your hips up to his month as he devours you. Wanting to feel the sting of your hands pulling at his hair while his tongue carves a path through your folds.

He means to overwhelm your senses entirely and he's doing a damn good job, right down to how tightly he manages to hold you in place while he leaves no part of your soaking wet pussy untouched. Maybe at another time you might have fought of wrestled or taken some of the lead, but he's swept you away so entirely today that all of your usual sass is reduced to whimpers and moans under his attention. Probably because the attention of that long tongue of his is well worth submitting to.

He had been right, you do taste delicious. Making him even more ravenous as he explores what makes you whimper and whine his name as his tongue laps at your swollen clit.

Every time your hips twist or roll to beg for a specific kind of friction. he seems to be anticipating it. He reads the waves of your body like it's a second language, intuiting what you need and giving it to you with growls and groans of his own that vibrate through you and make you see wave after wave of stars.

His mustache is coated with your juices, his chin slick with them, and still he continues to devour you. Licking into you and pushing his tongue into your pussy like he is starved for you, his hooked nose pressed against your clit as he groans in pleasure.

It doesn’t matter how long you lay spread out like this. Or how long Jack spends devouring you like you’re his new favorite dessert. The walls could crumble down around you and you would still be begging for more.

Jack can feel your body start to tense, your thighs tightening around his head briefly and then relaxing only to do it again. He holds them loosely, wanting you to squeeze him and he rolls his tongue back up to your clit to lap at it.

The second time you cum for him isn't like being carried away on an ocean wave. Even the arch of your back is like being washed out to sea, and the roaring of your blood in your ears making you feel like you've just crashed on top of a wave in some dramatic engraving. It's like all of your senses are both being hugged tight and being blasted wide open and you're drowning in every sensation but your nerves are tingling with life as you float back down to earth in his bed.

Humming softly, the pads of his thumbs rub your inner thighs, soothing you as your breath starts to slow down. You had screamed loud enough to wake the dead. A feat that has Jack feeling mighty smug as he watches your closed eyes bounce around under your lids.

"Fucking hell," you manage, once you stop panting and have the presence of mind to push up on your elbows to be able to see him more fully.

Smirking up at you, he winks as he unfurls himself from between your thighs to rest on his knees. “How are we doing so far?” He asks, even though he knows the answer. “Feeling patriotic yet? Or should we really make you see fireworks?”

"I think we'd both be missing out if we gave up now." After all, you've barely done a thing for him. And if his cock feels half as good as it looks, you refuse to miss out on that.

“I have to admit, I’m dying to know what you feel like around my cock.” Jack confesses, his hand squeezing his cock and pumping it lightly.

"I think it's time for you to find out." There is a smirk curling in the corner of your mouth as you sit up, and with one hand beckon him closer. "Don't you?"

“Yes ma’am.” He hums. “Do you want to save or horse, or see if I can hold on for eight seconds?” His brow arches in question and he wonders what you will say.

“On your back, Jack.” You grin up at him, already shifting over to switch places. Even if this isn’t where you end up, you want to ride that handsome cowboy for at least a little while.

“Never say I don’t follow a lady’s orders.” Jack drawls as he lays down, tucking one hand behind his head and the other still pumping his cock languidly.

“Not if you know what’s good for you.” That smirk stays in place as you straddle his hips and lift yourself up, braced for your cunt to be so wet from his attention that he slides inside you right up to your throat.

Jack helps, holding his cock up for you line up. “Take your time, sugar.” He coos, watching you with a predatory gaze. “It takes time to make sure you are seated right.”

“Not too long.” A moan escapes your lips as you sink down, but you take him at a slow, steady pace. “I’ve been thinking about this all damn day.”

“And here I thought I couldn’t be the one to break your dry streak.” He teases, having read your lips from the margarita stand with the assistance of his glasses. He had turned off the special features before he put them on your nose earlier.

“Were you spyin’ on me earlier?” The best you can do with him halfway inside you is to raise one eyebrow as if you vaguely disapprove, but it doesn’t hold a single drop of water when you let out a shuddering little gasp and take more.

“I can read lips.” He admits with a grin. “Don’t worry, sugar, I didn’t hold it against you. Just made me want you more.”

"Now I feel like I ought to have made it harder for you," you purr, but the truth is that he'd had you from the first real smile. Not the smirks, not the intrigue of just being handsome in general. The first time Jack genuinely smiled at you, you had felt your heart beat a little faster. Now it's your pussy that's reacting to him, though, and you shift your weight to lean back and give him a long view of your whole body as you start to bounce on his cock. Whatever his reason for being interested in you, it is well worth it.

“Jesus Christ.” Jack hisses, sliding his hands up to your tits again. “You are such a pretty thing, so fucking beautiful.” He groans, admiring the view as you use him.

"View can't be as good as mine." Panting between each word is the only way to get them out, because your mind is so fuzzy all over again from how good he feels that all you can focus on is how well he fills you.

He would have to disagree, but you steal his ability to speak when you roll your hips and squeeze him tight. All he can do is groan and squeeze your tits harshly before sliding his hands down to your hips.

"Hold on, handsome." It doesn't take more than a few movements of your hips to establish a rhythm, and one that you're both thoroughly enjoying. With Jack's fingers curling insistently into your flesh, you pick up the pace and let your eyes slide shut in bliss.

Jack groans your name again and again when you fully seat him inside you. Giving you the encouragement and praise through the panted words.

It's a damn good thing that his bed isn't an antique like his house. Once you get going, with his encouragements and your own seemingly insatiable thirst for this man, it would be a damn shame to sacrifice an heirloom to your shared lust. The sheer power and force of your enthusiasm with his strength makes it feel like you're going to fuck each other into the stratosphere to begin with, there's no reason to lose furniture.

“That’s it, sugar.” Jack slaps your flank in encouragement and moans when you roll your hips down at little harder. “Fuck, you do know how to ride a man, don’t you?” He counts his lucky stars you wanted to come home with him. “Ride me hard.”

He might have been the one to make the joke about lasting the length of the ride, but you have no intention of getting bucked while you're on him. The prominent veins of his cock scrub your walls like they were made for you, bringing deeps moans and shuddering growls of his name from your lips with every bounce and rock of your body on his.

Bracing his feet on the bed, Jack tilts his hips up, changing the angle and he chokes out a sound of approval when you squeal in pleasure. “There it is.”

It's the exact angle you need to have the head of his cock battering against your g-spot with just the right amount of pressure, and right now you're prepared to swear that no one has ever managed to find the spot that perfectly before. Just like his fingers curling against it earlier, your vision whites out as your eyes slide shut again and you could swear this is what being on fire feels like as you cry his name out in that quiet little farmhouse.

When your pace stalls, Jack picks up the slack. Driving up into you while your walls convulse and you shake on top of him. Groaning out your name raspily as he works himself towards that same peak you are currently cresting.

It's so easy to fall forward, bracing yourself on his chest with both hands and letting him take over the pace. Your third orgasm ripples through you so sharply and definitively that you practically scream, but his arms are there to catch you and pin you to his chest while he races toward his own pleasure.

It only takes a few driving thrusts until his holding you tight, locking his arms around you and grinding up into you. Your name is moaned into his ear as he floods your fluttering pussy with his cum. “Fuck sugar.” He groans. “Little pussy is milking my cock like a dream.”

"I'm afraid..." You're both panting, and you rest your forehead on his rising chest for a beat and giggle to yourself. The flow of endorphins is making you feel so light you could fly. "I've been neglecting her. She was hungry."

“Pussy like that needs to be seen to frequently.” Jack chuckles breathlessly and strokes your back as the sweat clinging to your bodies starts to dry and cool. “I’ll be happy to make sure that happens.”

"Oh yeah?" In the bliss of the moment, when you pull back to look him in the eye, it's like you're seeing a completely different side of the needy and addictive man who was pushing you up against a wall a mere hour ago. This Jack is soft at the edges, boyish and gleeful, not to mention beautifully relaxed as he cradles your body against him. "Thinkin' about asking me out, cowboy?"

“Considering it.” He admits before that soft smile curves into more of a smirk. “I think it would be my patriotic booty to keep you satisfied.” It’s the repeat of the joke from earlier, but completely worth it because of how cheesy it is. “What do you say, sugar?” He asks. “Want to make everyday Independence Day?”

"I think it's only right." Stretching slightly, the tip of your nose nearly touches his and you dip your head barely lower to hover above his mouth. A single centimeter of movement and you would be kissing him. "It'd be a damn shame to never ride my new favorite steed again."

“Damn shame.” He agrees. Since you’ve been in his house, the sun has slipped below the horizon and he reaches up to cup your cheek just as the first muted boom of the fireworks from Statesman is heard. “Happy Fourth of July, sugar.” Jack murmurs before he crushes his lips to yours, happy that he had decided to go to the celebration rather than taking a mission. He had never had a better Fourth than this one.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

My Masterlist!

[bad268]

Cheater

Aftermath Affair Pt. 2

(Lando Norris X Reader + Oscar Pisatri X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 1

Requested: Nope, happy 5 years!

Warnings: Cheating (obviously), Ava Small is the same ex from Breaking News, Song reference: Cheater by The Vamps.

POV: Second Person (You/your/They/them)

W.C. 1687

Chapter Summary: Oscar can't handle keeping this a secret. It's not fair.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

<-Part 1

~~(^Both from Pinterest)

He could not stand it. Oscar met you for the first time two weeks ago at Silverstone, and he learned that you and Lando had been together for nearly 7 years. It made him feel guilty knowing what he knew. 

Years ago, this one girl started showing up at every race. Oscar was convinced that was his girlfriend. They were closer than normal friends would be, so Oscar just assumed they were together. Lando even introduced her to Oscar!

Ava Small was her name.

For the past two years, he had the hotel rooms next to Lando, and by the sounds of it, he definitely thought Lando was with Ava. They were at it at all hours of the night, and honestly, it was annoying. She was always hanging off his arm in the garage, overly clingy, and very quiet on the track, but that all changed after hours. Oscar is one to admit that he has called customer service to submit noise complaints on more than one (more than 100) occasions. 

And when he met you, he felt dread. He knew he was going to have to tell you.

–

It was another race week later before Oscar had gathered the courage to text you. He had added you on Instagram when he found out who you were, and you followed him back immediately, saying that you were a text away. Any friend of Lando’s is a friend of yours, you said.

He looked at his phone skeptically. Was he really ready to ruin your relationship? His answer came immediately when he heard the same sounds he’d been forced to listen to for the last two years. That’s when he was reminded that he was not ruining anything and bit the bullet.

“Hey, I know it’s late, but I need to tell you something,” His message read.

You saw it immediately since you couldn’t sleep, and it immediately raised red flags. You typed out your reply just as fast. 

“Of course! Here’s my number,” Followed by your number, and it didn’t take long for an unknown number to call you. “Hi, Oscar. What’s wrong?”

“I need to tell you something about your boyfriend,” He rushed out. Oscar couldn’t even bring himself to say his name. You could hear him walking around, and on his end, he was walking out of the hotel down the street. He did not want to be in the same vicinity as Lando when he was letting you know what was going down. Especially because Ava was at the track again, and Oscar was more than certain they would start banging while he was on the phone with you. He took a deep breath before blurting out, “He’s a dead end.”

“Why?” You laughed as you sat up straighter in your bed and turned a light on.

“If I tell you why, it’s gonna make you cry,” He sighed as he sat at a park bench. 

“Oscar, I’m an adult,” You chuckled, thinking nothing of his reaction, “I can handle it. What’s going on with Lando?”

“He’s got a secret, and he’s telling you lies,” He whispered as he glanced back at the hotel. He could clearly see an outline of two bodies on the same floor he was staying on, and it made him sick. He snapped his attention to the ground as he tried to find the best way to put it, “I just think you should know what he’s capable of.”

“He's capable of a lot of things, Oscar,” You chuckled dismissively. He could not understand how it was not clicking for you yet. You thought it was a joke or Oscar calling to tell you random things about Lando. It was cute to you, but Oscar was sweating bullets. He was just going to have to blurt it out.

“Lando has another girlfriend!” He rushed out, and it met with silence on your end. Your heart was stopped as you tried to absorb the new information. Oscar got nervous and started rambling, “I needed to let you know because I hear them through the hotel walls every weekend. I just met you, but I know you don’t deserve this, and you need to let him go.”

“How long has this other girlfriend been around?” You asked after a beat. 

“Two years,” Oscar answered. “He introduced me to her at the first race last season, and she’s been at almost every race since. He walks around the paddock with her like she’s his everything, I didn’t even know about you until you showed up in Silverstone. I asked Logan, and he also thought she was his girlfriend. Max, Daniel, Charles, Carlos, George, and Alex all thought she was his girlfriend because apparently that is what he told them.”

“And no one ever told me,” You trailed off in disbelief. You hung out with George and Alex off the paddock with Lando, and they never seemed to question your appearance. They also never told you about this other girl despite knowing that you were with him since karting. 

“That’s what I'm here for,” Oscar joked lightly, but it went over your head, “Honestly, maybe this won't be as bad as you think. I mean, do you really want to stay with someone who cheated?”

“Oscar, I’m gonna go,” You whispered. It was all just too much, and you just needed to process everything.

“Alright,” He consoled, “I’ll be here if you ever need to talk or anything. I care about you.”

“Thanks, Oscar,” You replied with a tight smile before hanging up the phone. You were angry and sad and upset and numb all at once. You wanted to throw your phone. You wanted to destroy everything you shared with Lando. You wanted to scream, cry, and throw up all at once. 

You felt blindsided. You felt hurt. You felt betrayed. You felt used. And most importantly, you felt wasted. You wasted seven years of your life with this man just to end in heartbreak.

A part of you didn’t want to believe it. But then again, why would Oscar lie? 

You wrote out everything. It was something you always did when you were overcome with emotions. You wrote out everything Oscar told you, and everything you were feeling. Maybe you would look back on this and laugh. About halfway through the letter, you realize you never knew who he was cheating on you with.

You quickly looked at your phone to type out a quick message to Oscar’s now saved contact.

“What’s her name?”

“Ava Small.”

Part of you knew that’s who he would say. Ava was a partner for Quadrant and now, McLaren, and when you first met her, you had a bad feeling. You wished you had told someone, anyone, about that feeling now.

You needed to see this for yourself, so the following week was another race since it was a doubleheader. Lando flew straight to the next location, and you worked it out with Oscar to stay with him. You did not want Lando to know you would be there. You wanted to see or hear what he would normally do if you weren’t with him. 

You hid away in Oscar’s hotel room all day for the entire weekend. No one saw you and alerted Lando, and nothing had happened.

It was Sunday night, and you would be flying out the next night. Nothing happened the entire weekend. You weren’t even sure Ava was with Lando this weekend. Your brain switched to thinking Oscar was now manipulating you, so you stayed up late that night overthinking everything. Oh, did you wish you didn’t.

Around 2 in the morning, you heard noises coming from the room directly behind your bed, causing your head to snap back and look at the wall in disbelief. You gently shook Oscar awake, who was asleep on the far side of the bed.

“Oscar, you were right,” You whispered, but you don’t remember talking. Oscar tiredly looked up at you before moving to sit up against the headboard and pulled you in for a hug. You couldn’t feel anything. Not the hand of Oscar running up and down your arm. Not the tears that fell down your cheeks. Not the tightness in your chest. All you could do was sit there in Oscar’s hold as you listened to the infidelity occurring in the room behind you. 

“I can help you,” Oscar whispered at some point. You didn’t acknowledge him, but he was more thinking out loud. “I can help you move out from your place with Lando. You can stay with me until you get on your feet. I can…I don’t know what else I can do to help you right now, but we can worry about that another time. I could help you find a better replacement! Maybe not immediately, but eventually we can!” 

“I need to go home, Oscar. I need to get away from him, now,” You whispered finally as you weakly tried to push away from him.

“I can help with that! I can help you get to the airport and help you back to your apartment,” He replied eagerly as he started grabbing his things from around the room.

“I need to be alone, Oscar,” You pressed, finally looking at him. Your eyes were red, swollen, bloodshot, and full of unreleased tears. Waterfalls of tears were evident on your cheeks and accumulated in a puddle on your shirt. Your lips were red and swollen from biting them, trying to stop your sobs. Your nose was red and raw. You did not want to be seen by anyone. You just needed to be alone and figure out your next steps before anything else. “I appreciate you, Oscar, but I need to be on my own for a while.”

“I understand,” Oscar said apologetically, knowing he needed to back off. It was clear you were broken, and it hurt him to see you like that. “Text me every once in a while? Just to know you’re alive? You text me if you need me, got it?”

“I’ll try.”

~~~

Part 3 ->

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[idlerin]

love sick — 05. it’s all cliché and full of obvious red flags

romance 101; guideline #18 — before anything else, to love someone is to love yourself first.

the squeak of the ball hitting the ground and shoes sliding across the vinyl flooring were the sounds you heard as you spent the past hour or so watching grown men consistently smashing a ball. you were one to play your roles well but you did not find that much of an interest in sports in general. you understood why people enjoyed them but it never really became your “thing”. as you watch your quote-en-quote boyfriend on the court, you’re beginning to see the appeal.

you had eyes, it was no wonder why so many people fell for suna rintarou if you only consider his physical attributes from afar. maybe it was his gaze? It was the kind that lures you in, he doesn’t look particularly interested most of the time, perhaps that was why people get a kick when he reacts differently. people have their preferences so you wouldn’t put it past them to be attracted to suna’s kind, those who make you want to learn more about them because of how reserved they are.

you look at your phone to check the time, it is 1:30 pm, their practice was supposed to end early. “early” because they began at around 6 in the morning, you could never even imagine running in the morning.

you sighed, it wasn’t like being in the gymnasium was that bad. your friends, atsumu and kageyama were here too since they were part of the team but other than that you were a total loner. sure, there are some other people here with business you don’t know of and some just there to watch and you could probably approach one of them to get some company… but that meant you had to further the conversation, you usually do have a lot of things to say but that’s exactly the problem.

your mind wanders to a conversation you had with a person the other day instead, their name was… hayami? yeah, it was hayami. she wanted to approach you about this certain situation she was in. her friend of four years confessed to her and she didn’t know what to do because she didn’t know if she liked him back in that way. throughout the years she’s had several “what-ifs” about liking this friend but it was never really a strong emotion. now that he’s confessed to her, she doesn’t know how to properly respond and she ended up running away from him. she's afraid he thinks she hates him now.

the first thing you told her was that it was okay to feel confused because she didn’t have to name a proper emotion for it right now, being “sure” of liking someone can take time. you advised her to tell him that she needs time to think first so he isn’t left hanging and that whatever she decides what to do, he should be able to understand. hayami voiced out her worries that she didn’t want to hurt his feelings because of how much she treasured their friendship. you replied by stating that not saying and telling what she meant from the beginning could hurt her and him more in the long run.

“head in the clouds?” a voice you’ve recently become used to reach your ears. you jerk your head back only to see suna in front of you, a towel slung over his shoulder.

“are you done?” your shoulders resigned from the previous bit of shock at his presence, you really were too lost in your thoughts.

“yeah, i’ll just get some things from the changing room,” he said, you nodded while your eyes drifted behind him. atsumu was wiggling his eyebrows at you and you resisted the urge to grimace.

“i’ll go with you,” you exclaim, sick and tired of sitting on the bench.

“didn’t know [name] the sweetheart was such a perv,” suna raised a brow at you.

“excuse you?” you asked, confused.

“i’m going to change,” suna deadpanned, “if you wanted to watch i’d let you.”

you shook your head, at a loss for words for once in your life, “that was obviously not what i meant, but i’ve already had my hands on you, right?” you smile, recalling yesterday when you bombarded him with a hug acting like a girlfriend who missed her boyfriend very very much. your mind was then brought back to your cupcakes which were unapologetically ruined, you mourn your hours of hard work, “so what’s a little sight-seeing?” you continue to tease, standing up.

now you’ve made him speechless, he thought he could win? hah not as long as you still have your wits about you.

“nice to know you think i’m such a view, i’d assume you enjoyed yourself for the past few hours then?” suna started walking before you could retort, you were left to follow him with a small smile on your face due to amusement.

on your way to the lockers, you saw kageyama still practicing, he really could not catch a break, wasn’t practice over? meanwhile, atsumu was making grand gestures towards you and suna, and you wished you had something to throw at him. unfortunately for you and fortunate for him, you only brought your phone out with you today (you had no classes, okay, you initially planned to catch up on some reading today, ann liang’s this time it’s real—which was coincidentally about fake dating as well—was waiting for you at home).

“hey, what were you going to give me today?” you finally ask, you didn’t get to properly talk about it with him since he was busy training. you were leaning on the wall next to the entrance of their changing rooms, he was the only one in there so it was fine to act casual.

it took a minute or two before suna finally came out, duffel bag over his shoulder where the towel once was and cloth scrunched in his hands. said cloth was then tossed to you, you almost dropped it since your reflexes aren’t that quick.

“my extra jersey, wear it on the game this sat,” suna said casually as he watched you hold his jersey up, the number 7 plastered on it, the name suna on the back. how many times have you read and watched main characters in books and films cheer for their significant other while wearing their jerseys? now you are going to partake in that sports romance trope, how funny reality can be!

“oh is that all? what else do we do for today?” your head tilts to the side.

“i heard there’s an event in the campus grounds today, i was thinking we could go there since there would be a lot of people,” suna urged you to start walking and follow him with a simple nudge of his head.

“alright, i’ll warn you now though i didn’t bring any money,” you said with a skip in your step, still clutching the shirt since you don’t have anywhere to leave it in, “can you put this in your bag first, though?”

“who said you were paying?” he said casually while taking his jersey and placing it in his bag for a second.

you froze for a moment, “could you stop acting like a k-drama male lead?”

this made suna chuckle, he chuckled, you don’t think you’ve even seen the man smile, “you caught on quickly, huh? osamu’s been recommending me shows so that i could ‘learn by example’ whatever that means.”

right, you keep forgetting the suna is in the same friend group as atsumu and his brother, you know there’s this other guy in the group too named omiomi something? atsumu wouldn’t shut up about him. you’ve met osamu briefly before but you wouldn’t say that you were properly acquainted with him, you do see him a lot on campus because you get startled by how much him and atsumu look alike.

“i’m a matchmaker, i’m clearly well-versed in all forms of romantic media,” you say in a ‘duh’ tone.

“you can carry us then, acting romantic isn’t for me,” suna shrugged.

“no, you have to do your part,” you insist, as you step out of the gymnasium.

“what you want me to hold your hand or something?”

“that would be a good start,” you say, holding your hand out to him. he stares at it as if it’s some unknown species, and then he wordlessly extends his hand to intertwine with yours.

masterlist — previous | next

❥ fun facts !

it was only recently that [name] got addicted to strawberry flavored drinks.

semi has gigs weekly that [name] always goes to watch.

atsumu once during april fools convinced osamu to wear matching clothes from head to toe and wear matching caps to see how many people would confuse them for each other.

love sick ! a suna rintarou social media au

synopsis. cupid! calling cupid! as the resident matchmaker slash hopeless romantic of tokyo university, you are the person people look for to get love advice or to set them up with the love of their lives. when suna rintarou comes to you asking for the opposite, to help fend people away from trying to get with him, to the extremes of even asking to fake date you, you couldn't refuse! mostly because you did owe him since he was on the receiving end of a bunch of your clients’ unsuccessful love efforts (hey, you do warn them your matchmaking only has a 62.3% success rate).

a/n — gotta love a man that insults you (just kidding, suna rintarou is the exception).

taglist is OPEN ! + (1/2) @yas-mjm @agirlwholovesalot @yenqa @fairywriter-oracle @noideawhothatis @alienvarmint @renardiererin @cheezitwh0re @yaboiithewreck @zephestia @nicerthanu @wolffmaiden @2baddies-1porsche @bluegrey02 @qualitygiantshoepsychic @lylovw @fo-love @cloudsvna @haruskatana @apinu @coyloves @rockleeisbaeeee @geombyu @girlkissersco @reveusecherie @mwhahahalasagna @megumiif @erenjvegerrr @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ris-krispie @kamikokii @complexivelovely @justabreadslice @hearts4faey @yuzurins @eleanorheartschishiya @hearts4itoshi @justsomeonewhoyoudontknow @rijhi @sleepystrwbrryy @snail-squasher @seiamor @wave2love @le000xxgrd @iuspired @theidontknowmehn @linmabbe @rntrsuna @tenaciouswritersheep

if i can not tag you, please change your mentions settings to “everyone” thank you!

[toskarin]

A question of curiosity - assuming you play them due to your involvement with a bunch of them, what are your favourite kinds of characters (be it mechanically or narratively) to play in TTRPGS? And do you have any associated anecdotes to go with them?

courtesy readmore

mechanically kinda depends on what's on the menu, but if it's combat-focused, I personally really enjoy characters who "deny" things

not really the kind of character who I'd ever expect a GM to put in their element on purpose (I usually make a conscious effort to remind the GM of things I'm capable of so that I don't trample on any fun setpieces) but definitely the kind of character who modifies objectives just by being in play. I also like magic-users in concept, but that's more of a flavour thing

I think that's reflected a good bit in the kind of narrative play I enjoy, too. when I make a character, I prefer to do it with the rest of the party in mind, less to make the character "compatible" and more to make them sharply contrast in ways that encourage the other characters to have moments where they can reaffirm who they are (both in narrative and out of narrative)

there's a fine balance to strike here. on one end of things, you risk yes-manning so hard that the party quickly becomes a problem solving engine with a single striking surface. on the other end of the things, you risk being The Chaotic Neutral Guy

the space in the middle there represents the characters that people often want to regularly interact with, but rarely want to play. the sort of character who isn't actively disruptive, but raises a lot of red flags when they suddenly show enthusiastic agreement for what you're doing. the kind of character you almost need a diminished sense of discomfort to play without getting in your own feelings about

I adore playing characters who are catered to find plot hooks in other players' characters and tug them just enough to pull them to the surface

most parties have characters who disagree on things that aren't easily resolved. that's always fun, but (because people courteously tend to avoid conflict) it's very rare for those conflicts to come up without GM prompting, and "create productive conflict between two characters without leaving out the rest of the characters or starting a fight between players" is often an equally uncomfortable situation for a GM

lots of fun directions to take it!

have an arc that would benefit from a character taking charge but their player doesn't feel comfortable just Doing That? it helps to have someone else try to take charge who obviously should not be allowed, just to get everyone behind the alternative

have someone with a pure heart who doesn't really get to show that in a party of players who don't want to be mean? maybe someone who's a little more morally-compromised could give them a window for explaining what they actually believe

have a character who's part of some mysterious cult that nobody else is going to find the time to look into? the party could benefit from having a nosy character to justify cracking open that backstory

GM needs to fuck something up to remind the party of how dangerous things are? why not add to the mood by showing what your often-cold character looks like when something manages to actually upset them

[WARNING: DOING ANY OF THIS WALKS THE PRECARIOUSLY THIN LINE BETWEEN BEING COMPELLING AND BEING ANNOYING]

observant readers (well, those who have followed for a while) might have noticed I periodically go on rants about the much-maligned "evil character in a good party" and how both sides of the argument represent a communication and courtesy breakdown. that also very much ties into this sort of thing. I won't go over Tolerable Villainy 101 again, but you get the idea

distilled, I like playing the sort of thoroughly worldly bastards who often end up important in their own right, but mostly on accident, by virtue of being important to what makes other characters compelling

[cursed4myhubris]

There's some DPxDC angst that's been buzzing in my head for a bit: A pretty common pairing in this fandom is Jazz and Jason, but uhhhhhh have y'all considered there is a similar but very different DP character we could slide in here?

All of the bats keep an eye on Arkham. Obviously anyone who moves to Gotham to start working at the asylum of all places would probably raise a couple of investigation flags. Now Jason is going to look into their newest doctor - Penelope Spectra.

Imagine Spectra sneaking away from Amity Park and ending up in Gotham - I mean the place is filled with despair, depression, and the worst mental health facility in America - she'll fit right in. And then she runs into Jason Todd - someone who smells like death and is filled with so much rage, well she's gonna sink her teeth in. The volatile concoction will keep her young and beautiful for a long time. So she draws him in, saying all the right things and keeping up the act till she has him wrapped around her finger. She whispers honeyed words in his ears as she turns him against his family, the Red Hood becoming even more angry and deadly, after all "we both know there's only one way to truly clean up the streets of Gotham".

On the other end of this, does the Batfam realize what's going on? Did they know Jason was dating someone? Do they trace it back to her? Or are they worried for her, that in his new angrier state that she might be in danger next?

Anyway that's all I really got for now. I just think they'd be absolutely the worst together. This has just been occasionally buzzing in my head and I had to get it out. Hope it infects all of you as well!

[liaarxse]

tr boys when y/n has issues accepting that they actually do love her

Yesterday, today and tomorrow

Characters: Nahoya Kawata, Manjiro Sano, Kazutora Hanemiya

Warnings: Fluff, a bit of angst in Kazutoras part

A/n: Literally pulled out the biggest smile when I saw this request. Also, yes, Nahoya again. I just love writing for him. idk why (cuz he a crackhead)

P.s: Remember, it was said multiple times that Toman doesn't hurt women, sunshines. Don't think they'd break your precious hearts. They'd be just a bit hard to deal with <3

—NAHOYA KAWATA

Okay, we've all seen that one best/worst boyfriend chart our friend Ken Wakui made.

Personally, I threw a fit when I saw who were the worst.

Then I thought about Nahoya. He seemed a bit like a fuck boy, you get what I mean? Yeah, no.

Then I thought about it again

I examined the post a bit more after I found it in English and read what Takemichi said. If Mikey and Kazutora would be the top worst because they're reckless, Nahoya would obviously be even tamer

So personally, I believe Nahoya is in the top three just because he has a carefree type of living way. Like, he isn't scared of fighting, killing, and all. I mean, he probably IS scared to kill but doesn't show it.

How's he a red flag again? I don't believe them.

But for one, he'd never cheat on you. He'll be loyal as hell. Maybe if he wasn't in a relationship in one of the time skips where it showed the top members he'd fuck around with chicks (straight hair grown up Nahoya gives me fuckboy energy), but since the change and he's now working with his brother In their ramen shop? Get that thing out of your head.

Because for him to get in a relationship, he must dearly love and respect you.

Keep in mind that he also has to trust you since, in one way, if you're not to be trusted and/or are somewhat dangerous, he's putting his brother in danger as well.

But that's besides the point.

He loves you.

It's painfully obvious

He protects you, he trusts you, he spoils you in his own ways

He loves you

Maybe it's past relationship trauma that causes you to think it's all a facade

Which brings us to today's scenario

You're in Nahoya's room since his brother is out all day and you didn't bother to fix yours

You were looking around his room while he was testing the new straightener you got him since his broke

Examining the objects around you, your eyes land on a frame right above his toman uniform. It was of you two

You wondered why he would frame such a picture on the wall over his gang uniform. You mostly didn't like it because you hated the way you came out in the picture

Getting off his bed, you walked over to the opposite wall and stared at the picture for a good minute

Nahoya noticed that from the reflection on the mirror in front of him, but his smile just grew a tad bit more and returned to straightening his hair

You pursed your lips together in thought and reached to grab it

"Oi!" He exclaimed with a giggle. "Hands off."

You flinched when he suddenly spoke and turned to him with a raised brow

"What? Why?"

"Because," He turned around to face you. "I know you'll throw the pic away."

You weren't going to lie. If you stared at it for a bit more, you would've made the paper rip itself. You hated how you came out!

"But I look horrible!"

"I know." He laughed, but it quickly died down to a chuckle when he saw you glaring at him. "I'm kidding, babe. You look hella cute!"

You quickly turned around to hide the blush that appeared on your face. Crossing your arms, you were still staring at the picture

Being too caught in the act, you didn't realize when Nahoya finally finished straightening his hair and came up to you. He loosely wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, mockingly copying your slightly frustrated face

You noticed that and rolled your eyes with a soft groan, which earned you some snickering from him. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling his own to yours

"Why did you frame this?"

"Because it's special."

"How is it special?" Your voice grew confused. It's just a picture, nothing much

"Reminds me of the main reason I never give up."

Your blood went cold. What?

"What do you mean by that?"

"You're my main priority, babe. You, your safety, your smile." He chuckled at how cheesy he sounded. "That's why I framed us right over my gang uniform. Every time I have to change for a brawl or even just a meeting, I'm reminded of the smile that will greet me in the end and will always be there."

That didn't sound like Nahoya. For a moment, you even thought if that wasn't just some doppelganger

Until he smacked your ass

Yeah that's him

He loves you, and without realizing it, he just made all your problems fade away

Looking at the picture now, maybe, just maybe, it isn't as bad as you thought it was.

+ Your little twin girls found the picture in some box while playing and made fun of how you both looked. It was never to be seen again. It was under your mattress

— KAZUTORA HANEMIYA

So. Second worst boyfriend on the list.

Let's be honest, if your love language is quality time this won't work

Not that he won't want to spend time with you, but Juvenile? Sorry baby, they stole him from you

Kazutora loves you so much. He'd kill for you, and he'll die for you. No questions asked. He once even tried to break out from Juvenile because he couldn't take being far away from you anymore.

You visit him every day for as long as you can, bringing him gifts, telling stories, saying how much you miss him

But sometimes you wondered, does he love you?

"Baby!" A happy Kazutora exclaimed when you finally entered the meeting room and waited for you with a happy smile to sit down, on the opposite side of him, thick glass keeping you both separate.

"Hey, baby." You chuckled, adjusting in your seat.

It wasn't a lie how excited he was every day to see you. Sometimes, like today, he'd make you small diy gifts and show them off to you, explaining every minor detail from the inspiration, materials, hidden message, time taken, everything

And you kept them all on a special separate shelf in your room

"So that's my gift for you today! Do you like it?"

"I love it, 'Tora."

It was a small origami rose, which was actually very well made, considering he had to use his imagination

You both talk for a few moments before the chattering died down. You knew what that meant and quickly wiped the already falling tears

You hated this

You hated how close yet how far he was from you

You just wanted to break the damn glass and embrace him, never letting go

And he damn well knows he wants it too

But he can't, and neither can you

He was recently taken in, 3 years ago

Which means he'll be out in 7 years

Which felt like a lifetime for both of you

His biggest fear was you'd find someone new and leave him

Which he wouldn't even be mad about, considering he just ruined both your lives

But you stay consistent, you visit every single day, and even if you don't manage to, you always send him gifts and make up for it when you see each other.

But people's patience runs out at some point, and that point is today

You never meant to say this

You never meant to question his love for you because you both knew it was there and growing every passing day

So why did you ask? Was it the loneliness you felt every time you stepped out of the room and he wasn't there by your side? Was it the thrust to just be able to hold his hand? Was it the pain you felt every night where, instead of saying goodnight to him, you turned to a frame with a photo of him and said it to it?

You didn't know. He didn't know

The only thing you remember after that was the sound of glass shattering, alarms going off, and Kazutora hugging onto you as if it was your last minute on Earth.

You just cling to him, never wanting to let go again

You felt the tears fall when he kissed you, feeling all his love attack you in that one moment before the guards arrived and took him away

Your little moment lasted around 10 seconds, probably even less, but it felt like eternity to both of you

Visits were banned for a week until they changed the glass into an even more thick and unbreakable one

You dashed to the building the second they opened visiting hours again

And to be fair, even if that cost him 4 more months in juvenile, it was worth it when you finally managed to continue with your lives after his sentence

+ Your younger son thought it was funny while your older daughter cried her eyes out. I think you have 3 kids instead of two.

— MANJIRO SANO

Ah, yes. Our favorite dark impulse.

Listen, Mikey has to have FULL trust in you to even think about dating you. We're talking about Draken type of trust, if possible even more.

If Mikey falls for you, he will hit like fucking bedrock

If you don't reciprocate his feelings, he'd be hurt, but if you do, you're stuck for life

Mikey loves hard, and it's been proven so many times

It's the same as Kazutora. He'd kill for you.

Don't make him prove it. Just don't. You know, he knows, and everybody knows Mikey will do anything for you

So why ever question it?

You loved Manjiro, and he loved you. It was way too obvious to the point Emma already planned your whole future together

You knew that, but you always had this 'what it' thought in the back of your head, messing with you and you hated it

It was a normal afternoon. You were out with Mikey, just roaming around the city, eating at restaurants where they don't have flags so you brought your home-made ones, and spending way too much money on things you don't need

It was fun and all, just spending time together until he got a message from Draken which quickly brought him to his senses

He didn't want to leave you, but he had, so with a quick kiss on the lips he was off

You waved him goodbye with a smile and called up Emma and the girl just magically teleported to you in 10 minutes

She just loves you too much

Probably fought with Mikey for your hand at some point

You were having a blast with her until you both finally settled down at a café and talked about, just, anything and everything

You decided to share your thought with Emma and she quickly jumped, reassuring you that Mikey loved you with all his hesrt

She started showing you messages he's sent her about how he felt, what to get you and all sorts of things

But our beautiful Emma had her own 'what if' thought and when Mikey got home she instantly jumped on him

It was like, 1am when you heard his bike's engine roaring from outside your window. You got up and were met with a smiling Mikey and no more sleep for tonight

"Wake up, sleepy head. We need to talk."

The moment you got down to him, you were already zooming through the streets of Tokyo, but not in a racer-fast manner, just enought so you aren't like slugs on the roads

"Emma told me that—"

"I'm sorry, Mikey... I didn't mean to—"

"Please let me finish."

He talked for like, a whole ass hour. About everything that includes you both.

He brought you to tears ngl

His words just hit so deep that the thought immediately disappeared

Maybe it was he words of affirmation he used, the quality time he spend riding all night with you to ease your worries, the gift he gave you when you watched the sunrise and the fact you woke up in your bed later on with a small letter from him and a chibi drawing of both of you at the corner that kept a smile on your face till the end of you days

And you damn well know you lived one long ass life with Manjiro

And I'm kinda surprised to be honest

Not because you could've died while he was in Toman or anything, but because your kid is 3 times worse than Mikey.

+ Your son found his old gang uniform and wore it to school. The next teacher-parent conference was one hell of a trip.

[fortunapre]

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𖧞 16+, swearing, mediocre writing, use of Y/n

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𖧞 oscar piastri x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𖧞 (scene ii) 1.7k

𝐀/𝐍𖧞 thanks for reading and sticking with me, as i’m writing this in listening to christmas songs. is that pathetic? ❄️ 𝐏.𝐒 i got the chess idea from Nicole’s interview on the Red Flags Podcast. Honestly, Oscar gives such chess-prodigy vibes.

Go back? (Scene i) click here

𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𖧞 scene ii 𖧞 (𝐂𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐅𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫)

Tuesday, December 11th

I woke up with my pillow on the floor and my blanket halfway off the end of my bed. I was a mess, but last night was easily the best sleep I’d gotten all year.

Last night, after a delicious dinner made by Nicole Piastri, I went straight to my room and cuddled up with a book. Granted, I never got past page 1 because I fell asleep immediately. The heat of my blanket against the cold and the hot tea I had made had me nodding off and slipping into a dream within seconds.

Now that I’m awake, I barely remember falling asleep or the dream I had. As a matter of fact, it took me a few seconds to even remember where I was.

After fixing my bed, I took my half empty cup of tea and walked downstairs to the kitchen to get a new cup but was instead met with a wall of muscle. This made me spill my day-old tea on whoever was in front of me and made me so surprised that I almost fell, if it wasn’t for the arms of said wall, holding me still. Once I gained my balance I looked at who I bumped into, fully ready to start apologizing.

“What, is this your first time with legs? Why do you keep walking into me?” I then realized I’d ran into the one person I was hoping to avoid.

“Shut up, Oscar. You’re the one walking into me. Maybe use your eyes for once.” I retorted, walking past him while shoving his shoulder. Oscar turned around, tongue in his cheek, obviously annoyed. Good.

“Yeah, sure.” He replied, following me into the kitchen. “I guess it’s also my fault I now have peppermint tea all over me, yeah?”

I just then realized the big wet patch on the front of his white tee, clinging to his chest. It took a lot of effort to look away from the outline of his muscles thanks to the shirt now sticking to his abs. Gross, I tried to convince myself.

Once I moved my eyes from his abs to his face I saw his expression. His eyebrows were raised and a smirk played on his lips. I just rolled my eyes and turned towards the sink to rinse out my mug. “Might as well have been your fault, you're the one standing in the middle of the walkway.”

He just rubbed his eyes out of annoyance and opened the fridge, giving up on the argument. I just ignored his presence and began making more tea, the smell of peppermint filling the kitchen.

The parents walked into the main room, all dressed and looking like they were planning on leaving.

“Are you guys going somewhere?” My brother asked from the stairs. Him and my sister looked like they just woke up and stood on the staircase.

“Yeah, me and your mom are heading into town with the Piastris. Did you guys want to come with me?” My dad answered. The twins excitedly ran back upstairs to get dressed, meanwhile I just shook my head, not wanting to go anywhere.

“No,” I answered. “I think I’ll just stay back and read or something.” I smiled at my parents hoping they’d understand.

“Oh, are you sure-” my mom began but Nicole stopped her.

“Oh, let her stay, mate. She’s obviously tired.” Nicole took my side. “Besides, her and Oscar can spend some time together. I doubt he wants to go shopping, huh?”

My eyes widened at this and looked between Oscar and his mom.

“Ok, hon.” my mom said, wrapping a scarf around her shoulders. “We’ll be back in a bit.” But I was still caught on having to stay home with Oscar.

“Wait. I didn’t mean-” I tried, but was interrupted.

“Alright, have fun guys.” Oscar quickly cut me off, with a smile to the group of adults. My eyebrows furrowed at Oscar’s words and his seeming nonchalance at having to stay home with me. I was staring at the side of his face, hoping he’d look at me because what the fuck. The twins raced down to the door in seconds, bundled in winter coats.

As the group left out the door Oscar turned his head and spoke so that only I could hear him. “Relax. The cabin’s big, stay out of my line of vision and we won't have a problem.”

Later that day, the rest were still gone, longer than I had thought. I was in the main room, on the couch, cuddled in a blanket, watching a random show on cable. It was insanely boring and as the couple on screen started making out under mistletoe, I went on my phone. Jeez, how long is this scene? I looked up and the two were still lip-locked.

From behind me, I heard Oscar walk out of his room, downstairs and stop right behind me on the couch. When I looked up he had a grimace on his face, watching the romantic scene on the television.

“What in the world are you watching? Christmas porn?” He joked, looking down at me. I just rolled my eyes at him and grabbed the remote, turning the tv off. “You keep rolling your eyes, they’re gonna get stuck.”

I almost rolled my eyes again but decided against it. “What do you want?” I asked sharply, wanting him to leave. “What happened to ‘stay out of my line of vision’?” I said, craning my neck to look up at him above me. He just smirked and stared at me.

“Nothing,” he finally replied, “I just was bored.”

“Yeah, well. Go be bored somewhere else.”

“You know you have to be around me all month, right?” He walked around the couch and jumped on the couch, stretching his legs over my lap. I shoved him off, making him almost fall off the couch but he caught himself. I looked at him and saw he had changed. Instead of a tea-soaked shirt, he was now sporting a black hoodie and gray sweats. The hoodie sleeves were pushed up, showing his forearms. On top of an outfit change he must have also taken a shower, given his hair was a bit damp, clinging to his forehead.

“Whatever,” I said finally. “It doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.” When he didn’t say anything I looked away from his outfit and to his face. His eyes were on my legs, eyebrows furrowed. Only then did I realize my blanket had moved, showcasing my comfy, yet small, pajama shorts. I warmed at his stare and quickly covered back up with my blanket.

He shook his head like he was trying to shake the image out of his mind. My cheeks were definitely red, but I ignored it, going back to my phone. Minutes later, oscar was still in the same spot and when his silence got unbearable, I looked up from my phone at him.

“Well?” I asked. He broke his gaze from the floor, looking at me. Still, he didn’t say anything.

“Let’s play a game.” he finally spoke. His voice had somehow dropped a bit lower and his eyes were boring into mine. “I’m bored.” He added.

“What?”I was confused. “What game?” I was fully expecting him to answer with a video game or monopoly but he surprised me.

“Chess.”

“Chess? Do you even know how to play?” My eyebrows shot up, as I asked him.

“Of course I know how to play.” His voice was still deep, and he still held his stare. I shivered under his gaze.

“Ok. Let's play.” I answered quieter than I expected. I had no idea what I was about to get myself into.

We sat on the floor, the chess board between us and I left the blanket on the couch, having gotten too warm. Oscar had let me be the white pieces, because ‘I'll need all the help I can get,’ according to him.

As I was about to move the first Pawn, Oscar stopped my hand. Right when he touched my hand to stop my movement, he immediately took it back and ran it through his hair.

“What?” I asked, confused. “I know how to play…”

“Yeah. I know you know how to play it’s just that…” he began. His hair was all messed up from running his hand through it. And damn if it didn’t look good. I never considered it fully, but in the back of my mind, I’ve always been aware of Oscar’s attractiveness. He’s a racing driver, he’s got to stay in shape and all that, so obviously he was… well. He was definitely in shape. And his brown hair and brown eyes were a nice pairing to his sharp jawline. I was in deep thought, mulling over Oscar’s looks, when a hand waved in front of my face.

Oscar was waving his hand in front of my eyes, breaking my trance. Instead of bringing up the fact that I was so obviously checking him out, he just held that god-awful smirk and motioned to the chess board. My cheeks grew warm, yet again.

“Did you hear me at all?” He asked, the corner of his lips tugged upwards, having caught my stare.

I cleared my throat and nodded. “Yeah, you said you wanted to do something else, but didn’t you just say you wanted to play this?” I asked. “We just got it set up, what are you changing your mind about?”

“No. no, no. That’s not what I meant. I meant, like, we should add a twist.” He replied.

“What, like strip-chess,” I teased. His smirk dropped and he grimaced.

“What? No! I meant we should ask the other person a question after every move.” Oscar said, surprising me.

“Um,” I thought about it. Why would he want that? I don’t have anything to ask. I thought to myself about possible questions he would want to ask. “Sure, why not.” He smiled at my agreement and rubbed his hands together like he was getting ready.

“Alright then, Y/N.” he said, “let’s play.”

(SCENE iii) click here!

pinterest-piece 𖧞 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐬

[assassyart]

I know he sacrificed his life at the end to save the universe, but I always found a but weird that after he killed Ratchet in a fit of rage, he didn't seem to regret what he did like ik he was probably thinking he could fix this when he saves the lombax but still tpu would've thought he would've had a "what have I done moment?"

I also find if weird that the great clock isn't a time machine and yet it can go through the past by 6 minutes

Ah. Yay. :) I love talking about Alister Azimuth's thinking process. Thank you for the invitation to rant about this!

The end of A Crack in Time is one of the best parts of Ratchet & Clank, period. It has two incredibly emotional scenes, and every character is so well done. Buuut there is obviously one part of the ending that sticks out, and that's when Alister Azimuth killed Ratchet. This was the moment the player finally realizes just how far gone Azimuth is and that all of those flags were, indeed, bright red. To understand why he made this decision, we have to get into Azimuth's mindset. It's important to note Azimuth's decision wasn't just a fit of rage.

Azimuth had revealed to us that he does not view this current time he is in as "real" and, as such, has been treating everything he does and everyone he meets as temporary until the present gets back on track and he fixes his mistake. He sees talking to Ratchet about the past as pointless because it'll be "fixed," so why does it matter? (But even he can't stop himself from gushing about Kaden.) He even declines to help the Vullards while they're being attacked by the Agorians until they offer him something he needs to reach his goal. He views everyone as just another stepping stone to reaching his goal. He's detached himself emotionally from this world because it is not real to him.

This is similar to how Nefarious views everything in ACiT as well, just less exaggerated and silly. In a way, the two are pretty similar. Nefarious copes with his loss believing he can rewind time to "wrong" the "right" while Azimuth copes with his mistake, chasing after the idea that he can still fix it. Both are consumed by their failures in the past.

While Azimuth does try to care about Ratchet, it's clear that he doesn't let himself care that much about any one individual more than his goal. He doesn't even care about himself making it out alive after being captured by Vorselon— he only cares about fixing his mistake (and pushes this duty onto Ratchet as well). He is still putting up that emotional wall between him and Ratchet, so he won't get attached. Because to him, Ratchet won't exist once he "fixes" his mistake. This Ratchet he is currently fighting alongside will be gone, replaced by a completely different person— a Lombax that got to be raised by his father and mother, and never had to face the hardships "Ratchet" went through.

In Azimuth's mind, once he achieves his goal and fixes the past, this "Ratchet" will die. There is no point crying over someone you already accepted will not exist. He will simply care about the Ratchet that he will "save" in the past, not the one he doomed in the present.

Azimuth believes The Great Clock will fix all of his problems. Ratchet going back into the past to find out what happened to Orvus only strengthens Azimuth's belief that this will work. It has to. He does not even want to entertain the idea that it won't work, because that would mean he'd have to sit with himself and think about all of the awful things he did to get to this point.

"For the Lombaxes," he says, as he kills one of his own. "For Kaden," he says, as he kills his best friend's son. "To fix the past," he says, as he ruins the present.

It's only when he is faced with the fact The Great Clock won't fix his problems, that Ratchet (just like Kaden) is desperately trying to salvage the mess he made, that he has doomed the universe... that is when he realizes that he was chasing after something that was never going to work. You can't run from the past. You must learn from your mistakes. Azimuth wouldn't listen to Ratchet, just like how he wouldn't listen to Kaden. History repeated itself, and now his mistake was going to get Ratchet killed. All of his guilt from everything he did washes over him at once. He apologizes, but that doesn't change anything.

And he knows that. Azimuth's redemption comes from the fact that he doesn't run from this mistake. He faces it head-on, and his last words break the emotional wall he had set up before—

"Take care of yourself, Ratchet."

He's finally acknowledged the past can't be fixed and that he's doomed Ratchet to being the last Lombax yet again, but his final words are one of care and hope. He sacrifices himself for Ratchet and the present. In this action, he atones for his mistake.

And gah. This character is so amazing. I hate him. I love him. He's one of the best characters we have in the series, and I could fill an entire video essay just babbling on and on about this beautiful ending. Every character in this ending can be dissected for their choices, and this ending has definitely impacted the series far more than any of the others. I would dare Insomniac to top this ending, but I think it's dumb to even try. There's no topping this.

The game itself might have some flaws, but this ending is just perfect. I'd change absolutely nothing about it. What a banger ending to a banger character.